When Dylan reached Professor Snape's office, he knocked lightly twice.
"—"
The next moment, the door moved on its own and opened a crack.
Dylan could see Snape sitting at the desk inside, his expression dark, looking as if he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
He blinked, cautiously pushed the door fully open, and stepped in.
"Good morning, Professor. You're up really early."
"Come in. Don't bother closing the door. You'll be leaving very soon."
A flicker of mockery passed over Snape's face.
"As for getting up early… I've heard that when you go pester the other staff, you chase them from morning till night as long as there's no class. Naturally, I wouldn't dare be late for you."
"…"
Such passive-aggressive sniping was almost endearing.
Dylan smiled.
"Thank you for coming in so early to wait for me, Professor."
He swung his backpack around to the front and pulled out a notebook.
His notebook.
He took out a quill as well, but before he could walk up to the desk—
Swish.
Snape tapped his wand, and a chair appeared.
Dylan dropped into it without the slightest hesitation.
"Mr. Hawkwood, I hope dragging myself out of bed will earn me something of value, and not a stream of empty prattle."
In fact, Snape never slept in and never lazed in bed.
He only said it because he wanted to say it—it gave him an excuse to sneer at Dylan, nothing more.
But if any ordinary first-year had been sitting there listening to that low, squeezed-from-the-throat voice echo through the office, they probably would have been scared witless.
Dylan's smile, however, did not fade. He opened his notebook and flipped quickly to the section on Potions.
"Professor Snape, when I started looking deeply into Potions, the first thing that really puzzled me was this—"
Snape's brows twitched together slightly, then slowly arched upward, drawing a faint line at the corners of his eyes.
His dark gaze swept over, cold and appraising, fixing on Dylan.
Utterly indifferent and dismissive.
Dylan took no notice and went on. "In fact, whenever I study any branch of knowledge, I can't help trying to probe its essence."
"What exactly is your question?" Snape's voice was slightly hoarse.
Not a rough rasp, but like silk that had been brushed with sandpaper—low yet strangely smooth.
He controlled his volume perfectly; without raising his voice at all, he could make it fill the entire office.
"From the basic principles of magic, are potions affected by outside forces?"
Snape frowned. "It sounds profound, but it's meaningless."
"Of course potions are affected by external factors. All right, Mr. Hawkwood, get out of my office. Now."
He could not hide the impatience on his face after hearing Dylan's question.
And of course, he did not bother trying to.
But Snape had noticed something else as well:
this boy had nerves of steel.
Usually, with other students, a single look was enough to make them curl up like frightened quail.
On Dylan, that cold stare might as well have been a joke.
Every other child felt ashamed under his venomous tongue.
Except this one.
And he was a professor; he could hardly start casting curses at a first-year.
"You've already wasted enough of the Potions master's valuable time. Your House will—"
Before he could finish,
Dylan did something even more unexpected—he cut him off.
"Professor, you haven't quite understood what I actually mean."
Dylan's expression was serious; he completely ignored the growing darkness on Snape's face and continued, "By external influence, what I really mean is…"
"Whether potions might be affected by the movement of the stars and the phases of the moon."
At that, Snape actually froze.
His greasy hair hung over his pale, severe features, his thin lips usually pressed into a cold line—yet now they curved just a fraction.
His previously gloomy expression eased a bit. The tight line between his brows loosened slightly, and his eyes opened wider.
"So you've dabbled in celestial motion as well?"
Snape raised his long, bony hand. With a flick of his wand, the half-open door swung shut with a soft click.
Little tsundere.
Dylan hummed inwardly.
Snape's brows drew together again.
He looked deeply at the boy in front of him.
As a skilled Legilimens, he was not about to use Legilimency on a first-year.
But he could clearly sense the excitement radiating from Dylan.
Mistaking it for smugness, he said coldly, "What, do you think you know a great deal?"
Dylan blinked and shook his head at once.
"Of course not. I haven't even finished reading everything in the school library. How could that count as knowing a lot?"
He meant it.
At that, Professor Snape's expression eased a little, his voice as deep as a cello.
"The stars and the moon are often believed in our world to hold great power. Exploring their connection to potions—"
"Requires an in-depth understanding of the properties and brewing mechanisms of potions themselves, and touches on ancient magical lore and the use of mysterious forces."
"It's good that you've thought of this. But you're reaching far beyond your grasp. With how little you know now, even if I gave you part of the answer, you wouldn't understand it."
Dylan smiled faintly. "Since you've given me a 'yes,' then let me share my guesses."
Snape said nothing either way, just looked at him—
but he did, at least, stop spitting venom.
"As far as I know, the specific magical fluctuations released by the motion of the stars could resonate with potion ingredients."
"That might affect how well the components fuse, how their properties are unlocked, as well as the timing and duration of their effects. All of that could be influenced by stellar trajectories."
"As for the shifting phases of the moon… I think the waxing and waning of its energy, and the changes in its nature, might be connected to the beginning of a brew, the course of its reactions, and the strength and stability of its final effect in ways I can't yet fully see."
The muscles in Snape's face tightened almost imperceptibly, tugging at the tiny lines by his eyes.
A flicker of surprise flashed through his dark eyes.
His lips pressed tight and dipped faintly before returning to their usual line.
"Your mind, at least, is not quite as witless as a troll's."
"Uh."
Dylan looked at him.
Was… was that praise?
"Since you've genuinely put thought into potions and the stars, I can tell you a few things."
(End of Chapter)
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