On the long table, Jack Taylor asked curiously, "Jeremy, where did you go? I didn't see you early this morning."
Jeremy gave a brief response; he was hungry and eyed the roast potatoes eagerly.
"I went to Hagrid's hut. I've never seen anyone so tall."
Prefect Sinclair leaned in conspiratorially, eyebrows waggling. "You noticed too? Some people say he's half-giant. In Ravenclaw, though, we figure he's got a lot more giant blood than that. Otherwise, how would a giant and an ordinary person even—"
Thwack!
The senior girl beside him smacked him hard on the head with a book.
"Enough, Henry! They're still children!"
She turned back with a polite smile. "Hello, I'm Prefect Eleanor Brown, fifth year."
Prefect Brown turned and greeted Jeremy and the others with a friendly smile.
Under Prefect Brown's glare, Prefect Sinclair had no choice but to move to another seat, enduring the snickering of the surrounding students.
Jack looked around in confusion, not understanding why Prefect Sinclair had been hit, and tried to press further, but Jeremy changed the subject.
"Taylor, our first class is Potions. Did you preview it?"
"Just call me Jack, Jeremy. I looked at the first lesson last night. The boil cure isn't difficult. I saw my mother brew it at home. I helped process the ingredients a few times, and she even gave me some pointers. She said the boil cure isn't very hard, but there are things to watch out for during the brewing process. I asked her several times, but she wouldn't tell me."
Jack was a bit frustrated, but Jeremy understood why.
He guessed that parents probably treated the potion splashing up when a student added porcupine quills before extinguishing the flame as a kind of rite of passage, just like everyone kept the Sorting ceremony a secret.
Prefect Brown smiled but didn't explain either.
Soon, everyone finished breakfast. Prefect Brown gathered the first-years, made sure everyone was present and no one was left behind, then led them to the Potions classroom.
Jeremy really appreciated such a responsible prefect. Seeing the Gryffindor first-years at the next table over, noisy and chaotic and seemingly unsure where to go, he felt immensely grateful he was in Ravenclaw.
At least Ravenclaw allowed students who wanted to study seriously to exist; they wouldn't pester you to go out and play.
Suddenly, Jeremy spotted a red-haired boy. He didn't seem to be a first-year. He had the cheerful, open demeanor typical of Gryffindor, but without the recklessness and impulsiveness. His eyes were bright and steady, making him stand out among the Gryffindor students.
Jeremy thought he guessed who it was.
"Bill Weasley. Classic Gryffindor pure-blood family. He's three years younger than me, but we're friends. He's different from the usual Gryffindor."
Prefect Sinclair appeared out of nowhere, whispered close to Jeremy's ear, then vanished just as mysteriously.
First-year Potions was shared with Hufflepuff. The young witches and wizards from the two houses totaled over thirty.
Jeremy noticed there were about seven or eight Slytherin first-years. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were similar, with fifteen or sixteen each. Gryffindor had the most, over twenty.
Class groupings were probably arranged for balanced numbers.
But with such a large gap between Gryffindor and Slytherin, he wondered if Gryffindor might take the chance to bully Slytherin. Hopefully, they wouldn't end up fighting.
The dungeons lacked natural light but weren't dim. The steady, widespread glow of magical flames brightly illuminated the tables. Jeremy reached out and waved his hand; he noticed that within the table's range, no shadows were cast. It was like the shadowless lamps in an operating room, which greatly facilitated potion making.
"I am teaching you Potions because I hope you will experience the charm of magic and feel the wonder of potions, not so you can wave your hands around foolishly like a stupid Mandrake. Now, open your textbooks. The boil cure, the instructions are on the blackboard. You will collect your own ingredients. Submit one acceptable potion to me before class ends."
Professor Snape's low, silky voice suddenly came from right behind Jeremy. Sensing the anger in the words, Jeremy felt he was the one being scolded.
The young witches and wizards in the classroom were startled and quickly flipped open their textbooks. After seeing what ingredients were needed, they all rushed to the ingredient cupboard in a swarm, afraid that if they were too slow, Professor Snape would berate them.
"Line up. One at a time. Do you need your humble teacher to teach you such a simple rule!" Professor Snape seemed even angrier. He swished his wand sharply a few times, manually organizing the students into a line.
Under Professor Snape's undisguised, disdainful gaze, Jeremy collected his ingredients, returned to his table, and began preparing them.
"Hey, Jack, aren't you going to prepare your ingredients?" Jeremy noticed Jack's actions out of the corner of his eye and grabbed his hand to stop him.
Jack snapped out of it and released the snake fang he was about to drop into his cauldron. He glanced back to confirm Professor Snape wasn't nearby, breathed a sigh of relief, and then said with a hint of grievance, "He's so intimidating. My mind went completely blank, and I forgot the entire brewing process. Thanks for reminding me, Jeremy."
Seeing Jack had regained his composure, Jeremy let go and started preparing his own potion.
Grinding snake fangs into powder. No problem. Simple.
Preheating the cauldron. No problem. An iron wok needs preheating for stir-frying too.
Four measures of snake fang powder. No problem. He'd set it aside in advance.
High heat for ten seconds, medium heat until steam rises, then extinguish the flame and let it cool after boiling. This is the key point. Mark it.
Potion making and cooking had similarities. Although Jeremy's culinary skills were average, he knew that heat control was very important in cooking and greatly affected the final taste of the dish.
Just like when stir-frying shredded meat: if the heat is too low, the gamey smell doesn't cook out, and the whole dish has to be thrown away.
Jeremy continued reading. He also needed four slugs and two porcupine quills.
How to prepare them? Hmm, it wasn't written.
Jeremy hesitated. Even when making soup, you don't just throw whole ingredients into the pot, do you? You cut them into chunks or slices. At the very least, you need to wash them.
These slugs and porcupine quills even had dirty dust on them.
Thinking that he would be learning Potions from Professor Snape, Jeremy simply raised his hand to ask for guidance.
Professor Snape, who was keeping a close watch on them, arrived quickly. Seeing that Jeremy hadn't processed any of his ingredients yet, his dark eyes showed displeasure. "Does the esteemed Mr. Pringle have an issue with me, or with the blackboard? Why have you not started preparing your ingredients when everyone else has?"
Jeremy wasn't afraid and asked seriously, "Professor, I would like to know what the optimal fineness is for grinding snake fangs. When heating the cauldron and adding ingredients after extinguishing the flame, is there an optimal temperature? Are there specific speed requirements for stirring? Why don't slugs and porcupine quills need preparation? Would slicing or grinding them into powder improve the potion's effectiveness?"
Jeremy's cooking skills were mediocre, but he had watched many cooking videos and remembered quite a few tips.
For example, marinating shredded meat with starch makes it more tender.
For pork, the first fry should be at sixty percent oil temperature, without stirring, just gently pushing. The second fry should be at eighty percent oil temperature.
Frying some pepper in the oil before cooking makes it more aromatic; remove the pepper immediately once it changes color.
Adding a little white vinegar when braising meat helps tenderize it, and so on.
He believed that to truly master Potions, precision in ingredient preparation and the meticulousness of the brewing process were essential skills he must acquire.
He also thought these questions would surely catch Professor Snape's attention.
Sure enough, Professor Snape's eyes widened slightly. Then, his eyelids lowered as he gave Jeremy a brief, scrutinizing look. Finding nothing amiss with Jeremy, he let out a puff of air through his nose. His voice was slow but laden with threat.
"That is not something you need to know. Now, immediately, begin brewing your potion. If I do not see an acceptable potion from you before class ends, you will cost Ravenclaw a small, insignificant ten points."