Chapter 32 — The Coming Potions Class
Professor Corvey stood at the kitchen doorway, a pleasant smile on his face as he regarded Russell calmly.
"Professor," Russell greeted, recovering quickly from his initial panic. "You're here for a midnight snack too?" he asked lightly. If he was caught sneaking out, best to act honest about it.
"Not quite," Corvey replied, his voice smooth as still water. "You see, Hogwarts itself is a treasure trove of secrets — full of hidden passages and enchanted doorways. Some say that within them lie the relics of long-dead wizards."
He glanced toward the pear-shaped painting that concealed the kitchen entrance. "By chance, I discovered that portrait was enchanted. I didn't expect it to lead here — to the kitchens of all places."
Then, in a calm tone that carried a quiet authority, he added, "You should head back to bed, Mr. Fythorne. I won't deduct any points tonight. Goodnight."
The heavy door creaked shut behind him.
And as it did, the professor's smile vanished, replaced by a hard, icy expression.
He stared at the pear painting for a long moment more, eyes glinting with thought, before finally turning and disappearing into the dark corridor.
---
"Russell, you're too good to us," Rosen said between greedy bites of roasted chicken, speaking through a mouthful of food.
"Wait, wait—what?" James nearly choked on pudding. "You got caught in the kitchens by Professor Corvey and he didn't take a single point?"
Despite both claiming they weren't hungry, the moment Russell brought back trays of warm food, they'd swarmed him like starving pixies.
"That's exactly what happened," Russell said dryly, watching them devour the feast. "For Merlin's sake—slow down, would you?"
James let out a satisfied burp and rubbed his stomach. "All right, fine, maybe I was a little hungry. But once you came back and the smell hit me—I couldn't help it!"
"Whatever you need in the future, just say the word," he declared proudly, thumping his chest. "A roommate who brings midnight snacks? That's a gift from the gods."
Rosen nodded solemnly in agreement, too busy chewing to speak.
Russell couldn't help but chuckle. Boys' friendships really were simple—one shared meal, and you were brothers for life.
---
A flash of red light grazed past Russell's hair.
"Your aim's terrible, Cedric," Russell said with a grin, raising his wand. "Expelliarmus!"
Though it was technically a disarming spell, the power behind it rivaled the Killing Curse in intensity.
The scarlet bolt struck Cedric square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward three steps before regaining his footing. His wand arced through the air in a graceful spin, landing neatly in Russell's outstretched hand.
"What's wrong with you today?" Russell asked, frowning as he returned the wand. "You seem distracted."
"Nothing," Cedric replied with a faint, bitter smile.
"Oh, don't tell me," Russell said suddenly, his expression lighting with realization. "Did Cho Chang turn you down?"
Cedric sighed. "She said she's too young and not ready for dating." He looked genuinely troubled. "That means I've got no chance, doesn't it?"
"Oh, Cedric," Russell said dramatically, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't lose heart so quickly. Maybe she's just shy. As long as she hasn't given you the 'nice guy' card, there's still hope."
"The what card?" Cedric asked, confused.
Russell smirked. "When a lady is grateful to a handsome man, she says, 'I wish to repay your kindness with my heart.' But when she thanks someone… less handsome, she says, 'You're such a good man — I shall repay you in my next life by working as your ox or horse.'"
"So," he concluded gravely, "being given a 'nice guy card' basically means rejection."
Cedric blinked, then nodded in awe.
Russell's lips twitched — it took every bit of self-control not to burst out laughing.
Because Cedric was clearly out of sorts that morning, their spell practice ended rather quickly. Still, Russell's proficiency with the Disarming Charm improved noticeably.
[Name]: Russell Fythorne
[Status (Active)]: Triple Experience — Duration Remaining: 00:43
[Class]: Muggle-born Wizard
[Magic Level]: 2
[Constitution]: 2
[Skills]:
Running (Lv.6) — 689 / 3200 (Epic Trait: Sprint)
Cooking (Lv.5) — 628 / 1600 (Epic Trait: Golden Legend)
Swimming (Lv.2) — 26 / 200
Levitation Charm (Lv.4) — 378 / 800
Bat-Bogey Hex (Lv.3) — 315 / 400
Scouring Charm (Lv.3) — 337 / 400
Disarming Charm (Lv.1) — 58 / 100
…
---
The morning light streamed through the arched windows of Ravenclaw Tower, carrying with it the crisp scent of pine. On the celestial-patterned carpet of the common room, seven bronze stars flickered faintly in rhythm with the buzz of conversation.
Rosen broke a piece of a Chocolate Frog and began dropping the fragments into his teacup, watching as they melted into the amber liquid.
"I heard Professor Snape deducts house points the way normal people sneeze," he said matter-of-factly, stirring slowly. "Last year, a Hufflepuff stirred his potion the wrong direction and got punished by copying Advanced Potion-Making in Latin—ten times."
James scoffed. "That's nothing. My dad works at St. Mungo's, and he once met a bloke who got expelled by Snape himself. Now the poor guy twitches every time someone says the word 'counterclockwise.'"
"That's terrifying," Rosen said with a satisfied sigh, sipping the now pitch-black chocolate tea with a look of bliss on his face.
Terrifying? You look positively delighted, Russell thought dryly. Ravenclaws were brilliant, yes—but they also had a flair for exaggeration.
If Snape truly had the power to expel students at will and traumatize them into the hospital, he'd be running Hogwarts by now—no need to defer to Dumbledore.
Then again, he mused, it wasn't just Ravenclaws who loved to stretch the truth. Malfoy once bragged about dodging a Muggle helicopter on his broom, and Ron Weasley claimed he'd nearly crashed into a hang glider.
"Actually," Russell interjected, "I heard Snape doesn't yell or take points right away. He just appears behind you in total silence while you're brewing. Then—bam—he speaks, you panic, spill something, and that's when he pounces."
Cho Chang had just entered the common room and overheard the conversation. Amused, she walked over with Marietta Edgecombe in tow.
"Cho, don't listen to these two," he said, closing his copy of Magical Draughts and Potions. He'd been reviewing the text just in case Snape decided to single him out during class.
"Say what you will," Rosen muttered, pulling something shiny from his pocket. "First Potions lesson of the term, I'm not taking chances. I've brought five good-luck charms—each blessed to ward off misfortune. Hopefully one of them keeps Snape's gaze off me."
He spread them out dramatically on the table: an assortment of mismatched trinkets, all different shapes and colors, glinting like cheap carnival prizes.
Russell couldn't help but sigh.
Ravenclaws—top of the class in theory, bottom tier in superstition.