Luna tilted her head, searching her memories for a moment.
"I think potions are a bit like painting... Maybe my technique isn't quite there yet, but at least I can make the colors look a bit livelier."
"So I tried to fix it... Wyzett once taught me how to use ritual magic with the Water-Making Spell. I thought it might help, so I worked it in."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "That was your own idea?"
"Yes," Luna nodded. "I just go with my instincts... If I think the color's too pale, I add a little more, make it prettier."
…
The bell rang for the end of class, and the students bolted from the dungeon as if fleeing a rampaging troll.
Luna packed up her books at a leisurely pace, tidied her desk, and strolled out with Amica.
Snape watched their shadows stretch and vanish down the corridor, his expression growing distant and conflicted.
This way of brewing by instinct...
He'd seen it before, long ago, in his own student days.
A red-haired, green-eyed girl—beautiful as a lily.
She'd always trusted her feelings, followed her own path, obsessed over ancient magic, ignored the standard steps for brewing, yet still earned Slughorn's praise...
A tremor of anguish twisted Snape's features. His eyes burned with pain.
Suddenly, he clenched his fist and struck his chest, hard—once, twice, again. Each blow landed with a heavy thud.
His nails tore the skin; blood smeared his palm and dampened the black fabric of his robes.
But the robes were pure black. They hid the blood perfectly. It didn't matter.
Footsteps echoed outside—the Slytherin students heading back to their common room.
Snape schooled his face back into its usual cold, implacable mask. He glanced at the darkening stains on his palm, then pressed his wand to the wound.
A cool emerald light wrapped around his hand, knitting the torn flesh closed.
"Mundus Totalus!"
He gave his wand a flick, casting the cleaning spell he now used more than any other. The blood vanished from his palm and robes, leaving not a trace behind.
He reached into the basket and picked up a potion bottle labeled with Luna and Amica's names. "Those two siblings… tsk."
Ever since hearing the tangled histories of the Elder Wand, Wyzett had been paying extra attention in History of Magic. Whether he'd ever need the knowledge or not, it never hurt to remember more.
Even with a perfect record of magical history in his mind, listening to the professor's retelling always offered new insights.
This morning had been a strong start. Not only had he learned a new magical theory—cube theory—from Professor Sprout, but he'd also arranged to begin his Animagus training with Professor McGonagall on Saturday afternoon.
On the way to the Great Hall, Wyzett jotted down a few notes, listing the flaws in his Scouring Charm button.
The button could only be used a handful of times—after about ten people, it reverted to a beetle. That was a glaring shortcoming.
He needed to find a way to dampen the spell's incantation. That was another area for improvement.
Making the Scouring Charm button more versatile was also on his mind.
The Scouring Charm itself was incredibly useful, but the one he'd fixed onto the beetle button could only clean the user, not just anything he wanted. It was far too limited.
As he made his way down the stairs, Fred and George appeared at his sides, peering over his notes.
"Oy! Planning to make magical gadgets, are we?" they chimed in perfect unison.
Fred slung an arm over Wyzett's shoulder. "So, our dear materials consultant, got any questions? We're always happy to help!"
"Absolutely!" George draped himself over Wyzett's other shoulder. "Trying to make the Scouring Charm last longer? That's right up our alley!"
Wyzett's curiosity was instantly piqued. "Oh? Do you have any good tricks?"
George pulled a face. "Now you're just being formal! No need for 'please' with us. Only Peeves ever makes Filch say 'please'—and we're practically family!"
"Exactly!" Fred nodded, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Where'd you disappear to last night?"
"Last night?" Wyzett blinked. "You two were out as well?"
Fred grinned. "Care to guess where our common room is?"
George added, "Or who lured Filch away?"
The feud between Filch and the Weasley twins was legendary. But with Peeves, it was the opposite—he adored the twins and often ran interference so they could escape Filch's clutches.
"But you know what really surprised us?" Fred continued. "You ran off so fast!"
"Yeah! We were about to say hi, and you'd already vanished down the stairs!"
"Did you find a new secret passage?"
"We saw you just—poof!—gone!"
"You've got to share any new secret tunnels!"
"We're actually on the hunt for a new base ourselves."
The twins rattled off their questions, barely pausing for breath.
"A new base?" Wyzett asked, bemused. "Wasn't the old one good enough?"
"You used to love it there! Said Filch never found it," he pointed out.
Fred waved a hand dismissively. "Times change, dear consultant!"
George grinned. "Thanks to those Swedish goodies you brought back, we're bursting with ideas—just need a bigger place to work."
Fred nodded. "Once we find a new secret base, you'll be the first to see it!"
"Meow…"
A harsh, grating yowl echoed down the corridor.
A scrawny, dark gray cat slunk into view, glaring at the three of them with eyes like yellow lanterns.
Its throat rumbled with a warning, eerily human in its intent.
This was the caretaker Filch's beloved pet, whom he called Mrs. Norris.
Filch and the cat were inseparable—sometimes even patrolling the corridors separately. If Mrs. Norris caught anyone breaking the rules, even the slightest hint, she'd alert Filch in an instant.
Most students—especially those in Gryffindor—hated the man-and-cat duo with a passion.
The twins spotted Mrs. Norris and let out a synchronized sigh. "Oh, what a drag!"
Fred glanced around. "If the cat's here, Filch must be close by…"
A furious shout echoed from the moving staircase. "What do you think you're doing with that? Hand it over! That's contraband!"
"Looks like someone's in trouble with Filch…" George shook his head, feigning pity. "Time for us to make our grand entrance!"
Wyzett asked, "Need a hand?"
"Not at all!" the twins chorused, flashing matching grins.
George winked. "This is between us and Filch…"
Fred nodded, utterly delighted. "Honestly, we wouldn't miss it for the world…"
🔥 Want to read the next 50+ chapters RIGHT NOW?
💎 Patreon members get instant access!
⚡ Limited-time offer currently running...
👉 [Join on - patreon.com/GoldenLong]