After leaving the flying broom with difficulty, Grete secretly made up his mind to hollow out Professor Tom as soon as possible and develop his own flying technique.
This flying broom really hurts your butt.
If Hogwarts is not short of funds, why don't they want to replace these old flying broomsticks with new ones?
Even if you don't replace it with a new one, isn't it okay to go back to the factory and renovate it?
Few of the seat charms inlaid on it are still intact.
Except for those who really love Quidditch, basically no little wizard can climb off the broom with a smile on his face.
Also, Gryffindor and Slytherin, especially Slytherin.
Almost all of your family are purebloods, well-off and pampered.
How can I endure this kind of torture? Shouldn't I wave my magic wand and be more bossy and ask my family to donate a batch of flying broomsticks to the school?
I just know how to sit around and fight with the people in the Lion Court every day, and don't do anything serious.
In other words, Hufflepuff is the friendliest of the four major houses.
Watching Gretel staggering, rubbing his ravaged buttocks, he moved towards the tower with difficulty.
A little badger actually chased him and stuffed him with a bottle of herbal ointment that was said to be prepared by Professor Sprout to relieve congestion and relieve pain.
There was no time to say thank you, the little badger stuffed the things and ran away.
Well, I owed a favor. After much thought, Grete decided to repay the favor by teaching the little badger the secret recipe.
But after thinking about it, since he started school, so many professors have given him a lot more or less.
Dumbledore's notes, Professor McGonagall's school emblem, Professor Flitwick, as the dean, I don't know how many times he recruited young men.
Only the arrogant Professor Snape would use harsh words to criticize him even though he was trying to make a small fuss about him.
After enduring the potion for so long, not even a drop of it came out of him.
Even now, seeing that his skills are becoming more and more proficient, he has begun to be treated as a strong man, asking him to help with the potion orders placed by others.
Grete felt that the more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He was probably being prostituted for nothing.
Because even if you are a potion master in the field, you must pay enough wages to recruit apprentices. Even the potions prepared by the apprentices can be kept as their own.
Gretel, who aspired to become a big capitalist, could not stand this anger, so he decided to have a quarrel with Snape.
It's okay if there's no salary, and it's okay to treat him as a strong man. At least you have to turn a blind eye and let him come back with a few bottles of potions that he brewed.
Really talking about the success rate, the potion materials he saved must be tens or hundreds of galleons.
——
"How did you grow your brain, Mr. Harry Potter? You should really get the head of a troll. I think it would be much smarter than you are now."
Gretel looked at the billowing smoke coming out of Snape's office and the two people standing at the door of the office, and immediately turned around and left.
He only knew that Friday nights had been Harry's private time for the past few weeks.
Little did he know that on Friday afternoon, he was already experiencing a mental beating from his father's love rival.
If he had known earlier, he would never have chosen such an embarrassing time to come to Snape.
"Mike Grete, come here."
Snape was truly worthy of being called the Bat Monster. Even if he didn't look back, he could tell that the person coming was Gretel.
There was no choice but to come to this embarrassing scene.
Snape was clearly still angry, while Harry was picking his fingers sullenly, as if he was severely shocked.
Snape used a cleaning spell to clean up the messy office.
"Mr. Potter, I hope you will see Mr. Gretel's operations clearly next. I don't want you to make such a stupid mistake again."
When the three returned to the office, Grete saw the still smoking crucible.
When I got closer to the crucible, I saw a burnt brown mass at the bottom of the pot. I stirred it up and smelled it, and then looked at the shape. It should be that the hellebore syrup, a necessary material for the moderator, had been boiled down.
Gretel couldn't help but exclaimed in his heart, what a good guy, he is indeed the son of Bai Yueguang Cinnabar Moles.
He is only in the first grade, and you ask him to learn how to prepare a demulcent that is almost mandatory in the O.W.LS exam.
Professor Snape, please wake up, Harry is just an ordinary first-year student.
Do you think that everyone is just like you, a half-blood prince who has been gifted as a potion master since childhood?
"Have you seen what the potion is?" Snape said in a sinister voice.
Okay, let’s start testing me again.
After discovering that Gretel was really gifted (crossed out, cheated), Snape became even more strict with his teaching methods.
From time to time, he would take out a failed potion and ask him to identify what kind of potion it was, and also to analyze the potion ingredients.
"The ingredients for the demulcent are half a small silver crucible of water, a moonstone ground into powder, 10 porcupine quills and a unicorn horn ground into powder, and one-half of a valerian root.
A pint of hellebore syrup."
Obviously, Gretel's answer satisfied Snape.
"Get the potion and operate it yourself," Snape's voice was almost squeezed out of his nasal cavity, "Mr. Potter, open your eyes and see how others operate it, although I don't expect you to be a monster.
The same brain can remember."
After grinding and sifting the moonstone, porcupine quills, and unicorn horns respectively, weighing them according to the required amounts, and storing them separately, Grete began the next step.
Snape struck Harry gloomily from the side, "Did you see that I have processed all the materials in advance and put them in convenient places to prevent mistakes during the work?"
…
When the hellebore root syrup was added, Snape coughed slightly, reminding Harry to pay attention to Gretel's operation.
Not wanting to criticize Snape for being such a arrogant person, Gretel carefully controlled the flames so that the potion would barely boil.
When the seven minutes are up, immediately add the hellebore root syrup to turn the potion into turquoise color, and continue to keep it boiling until the potion emits silvery white steam that indicates success.
Set aside to cool and serve.
"Mr. Potter, do you understand? Do you need me to help you replace the head of a troll?"
"Yes, Professor, the flames were too high when I added the hellebore syrup." Harry replied honestly.
It was the first time Gretel saw someone whose pupils could contain two emotions of admiration and frustration at the same time.
Perhaps because today's blow to Harry had fully demonstrated his venomous nature, when Snape turned to Gretel again, there was a rare hint of gentleness in his tone.
"Well, Mr. Gretel, I remember that today is not the day for your confinement. What are you doing here?"
Gretel couldn't say that he was here to negotiate, because he had already slipped a bottle of demulcent into his pocket when it was packed.
The strange thing is that Snape clearly saw it but did not stop it.
Gretel had reason to suspect that Snape was giving Harry eye drops, but there was no evidence.
Grete, who was feeling guilty, naturally couldn't say anything, so he had to interrupt: "Nothing, I just thought that Professor, you probably haven't eaten, so I came here to see if you need me to go to the restaurant and bring you a meal."
"When did you see me having dinner in the office?" Snape's tone showed no fluctuation at all.
In order to avoid being angered, Gretel quickly slapped him and walked away from Harry.
In Harry's pitiful look for help, Gretel gave him a helpless expression and ran away in a flash.
Until leaving the underground, Snape's inhuman troll sarcasm could be heard.