Chapter 226. Adrian Wesson's Potions
When Adrian Wesson was escorting the Thestral back to the Forbidden Forest, something stirred in the forest's depths, unnoticed by anyone.
That beech tree moved again.
On its trunk, the bark slowly writhed, and a wrinkled human face surfaced once more.
Those eyes were half open, half closed, as if drowsy.
"Here it comes…"
The low, hoarse voice echoed through the trees, startling a few crows from their perches.
Next, the ground began to tremble faintly; thin cracks opened in the soil around the roots.
After a brief silence, the expression on the face in the bark suddenly turned utterly exhausted, the wrinkles sinking deeper.
"Tired…"
The face gradually sank back into the rough bark, as if it had never appeared at all. The Forbidden Forest returned to silence.
Of course, Adrian Wesson knew nothing of what had just happened to that beech; he had even forgotten the tree existed.
After Care of Magical Creatures ended.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed back along the castle corridor for the common room.
At this moment, Ron kept sneaking glances at the little box in Hermione's arms.
"That's from Professor Wesson, isn't it?" he asked curiously. "What treasure's in there?"
"Just some potions." Hermione still held the box close. "He thinks I might get very tired, so he gave me a bit of help."
"Tired?" Ron looked puzzled. "How would you be tired?"
Hermione sighed. "If you actually listened in every class, you'd need these too."
Ron shut his mouth.
Harry, hearing Hermione's answer, immediately felt this must have something to do with Hermione's timetable.
But he didn't bring it up again.
If Hermione didn't want to talk, he wouldn't force her.
Giving your best friend some personal "space" was important.
"You'll really like the professor's potions," Harry changed the subject, smiling at Hermione. "He makes his potions in all sorts of flavours, and they all taste pretty good."
Yes—within Adrian Wesson's own potions system, flavour was a very important element.
He especially liked to make the same potion in different flavours to suit different tastes.
Of course, many people felt this was a lot of effort for little thanks.
"Really?" Hermione said in surprise. "I've had some truly foul cough potion in the Hospital Wing before."
Ron nodded in agreement; he had drunk that same cough potion.
It tasted atrocious—like soup boiled from stinky socks, enough to make one retch.
Unable to resist, Hermione opened the lid of the box, took out a tiny vial, uncorked it, and sniffed lightly.
"Oh—like Sherbet Lemon." Her eyes lit up.
"Let me smell," Ron said, stopping to lean in as well.
Walking ahead, Harry turned back to look at them and chuckled. "The stuff you drink in the Hospital Wing is most likely brewed by Snape. His potions are like the man himself, with a mouldy cellar reek. There's no comparing them with Professor Wesson's…"
Ron snorted with laughter.
"Too right," Hermione agreed.
However, as they looked towards Harry, their expressions suddenly froze.
Puzzled, Harry stared at their suddenly rigid faces. "What is it? What are you—"
Hermione frantically signalled with her eyes, forming the words without sound: "Be…hind…"
In an instant, Harry realised, turned slowly, and felt the blood in his body turn to ice.
Severus Snape was standing less than a foot behind him, black eyes glittering with danger.
Clearly, he had heard every word Harry had just said.
Harry thought, appalled, Why does Snape walk without making a sound?
"Er… hello, Professor." Harry gave Snape a strained smile. "We were just heading to the common room. Goodbye."
Snape, however, had no intention of letting Harry off.
He curved his mouth into a cold smile—more frightening than his scowl.
"What a vivid metaphor, Mr Potter," Snape's chilling voice sounded. "It seems you have a unique perspective on potions."
Ron went white beside him; Hermione clutched her box of potions tight.
"Thirty points from Gryffindor," Snape announced softly, "for insulting a professor."
"You can't—" Hermione still tried to protest.
"Oh?"
Snape stepped up to Hermione and looked at her, eyes like ice.
Hermione went rigid, finding it hard to breathe.
Then Snape slowly stretched out his hand, took the Sherbet Lemon–flavoured vial from her, and held it up to scrutinise for a few seconds.
"Heh." He gave a disdainful snort. "A pointless contrivance. I can scarcely believe this was brewed by a former student of mine."
Harry caught the key in Snape's words at once.
A former student?
Did he mean Adrian Wesson?
"Potions is a precise and rigorous discipline," Snape's voice drifted along the corridor. "Any ingredient that does not aid the effect is a superfluous encumbrance. 'Improving' the flavour is a foolish idea."
He gave the pale yellow potion a slight shake; contempt flickered in his eyes.
Hermione's lips trembled; she seemed about to retort, but under Snape's frigid gaze she held her tongue.
Harry and Ron also wisely said nothing.
They knew that if they talked back now, they would lose far more than thirty points.
Seeing the three make no further move, Snape gave another cold snort, tossed the vial casually back to Hermione, swished his robes, and left at once.
Only when his figure had completely vanished did the three of them breathe again.
"He really is terrifying, isn't he?" Ron said, still shaken.
Harry nodded in agreement.
Snape was indeed difficult to get along with—and had it in for him in particular.
Hermione, however, was still standing dazed on the spot.
"Don't take Snape's words to heart," Harry said, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "Professor Wesson's potions are the best at Hogwarts. If we had a choice, who'd ever want to drink Snape's horribly foul concoctions?"
As soon as he finished, Harry glanced anxiously over his shoulder; he truly dreaded Snape suddenly appearing behind him again.
"That's not what I'm upset about. I know Professor Wesson's potions are excellent," Hermione sighed. "Gryffindor lost another thirty points because of us…"
"What does it matter?" Ron said carelessly. "In tomorrow's Potions lesson, I expect we'll lose more."
Hermione shot him a fierce glare.
That was absolutely not a comforting thing to say.
"That's not exactly helping," Harry warned Ron gently.
Ron shrugged—he was only stating the facts.
Fortunately, with Hermione around, they could always earn the points back in other classes.
After the unexpected run-in with Snape, the three hurried back to the common room as fast as they could.
Hermione drank her potion and went to rest. Harry and Ron kept an eye on Scabbers.
To their relief, after drinking the Rat Tonic, Scabbers immediately quieted down, no longer scurrying or squeaking.
Within just a few minutes, he was sleeping peacefully in Ron's pocket.
Ron finally let out a long breath of relief.
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