School life was simple for Aaric. He settled in quite nicely.

Aaric caught the attention of Professor Flitwick in his first class and made quite an impression on the professor.

Potions classes were with Slytherin. Snape entered with his usual gusto and began his speech.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Aaric rolled his eyes at the speech but knew what the guy said was true. Simon was a potion master, and Aaric had seen bizarre potions wizards were capable of making. All those things were possible if one was good enough.

Snape clearly favored his house, deducting points from Ravenclaw students for the smallest mistakes and ignoring errors from Slytherin.

“Have you done anything involving responsibility in your life? I am wasting my time on you dunderheads trying to teach you how to make potions.”

He was berating a Ravenclaw girl for a small mistake. She was on the verge of tears.

“How about instead of insulting and demeaning someone who cannot speak back to you because of your position, you actually use your words to teach her?”

Aaric could not bear to listen anymore and spoke up.

Snape’s lips curled into something between a sneer and a smile.

“Tell me, Mr. Hawthorne, do you often mistake arrogance for intellect? Or is it simply that you believe your family’s name grants you the right to challenge authority?”

He stepped closer, voice dropping into a near-whisper that carried across the silent classroom.

“You presume to lecture me—on how to conduct my classroom? On how to deal with incompetence?”

He flicked his wand, and the cauldron nearest to Aaric stilled instantly.

“Perhaps next time, you would like to take over the lesson and teach this dunderhead how not to confuse crushed snake fangs with moonseed?”

He straightened.

“Five points from Ravenclaw for insubordination. And I suggest you keep that silver tongue in check, Hawthorne—unless you’d prefer I test the limits of your courage and your grades.”

Aaric’s expression remained calm, but there was a quiet fire behind his eyes.

“I wasn’t lecturing you, Professor,” he said evenly. “I was asking you to teach, not belittle. There’s a difference.”

Around the room, students held their breath. Daphne, across the table, gave Aaric the barest shake of her head—but didn’t look away.

Snape’s eyes narrowed further, his voice now like ice slicing through glass.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw,” he said softly. “And a detention.”

He turned his back with a swirl of his cloak, but there was no satisfaction in his posture—only something darker, unsettled.

Aaric said nothing more. He simply returned to his notes, back straight, face unreadable.

Snape did not bother the kids after that and even answered some of the students’ questions.

They were making Boil-Cure Lotion. One of the ingredients was cowbane essence.

“Professor, I hear cowbane essence is used as a magical pest repellent too. What is it most useful against?” Aaric asked.

Snape answered, “Doxy swarms and Niffler digging.”

Aaric grinned and replied, “Thank you, Professor. It’s clearer now that you’ve explained it properly.”

A sour expression appeared on Snape’s face, but he couldn’t do anything.

“Thank you for helping me,” said the Ravenclaw girl, Alice Marwood.

Aaric smiled at her. “You are welcome.”

“How about the hero enjoy detention now?” sneered Snape as he appeared behind Aaric. “Sorting out spoiled potion ingredients should do.”

Aaric did not protest in detention and did his work diligently.

Snape checked students’ homework and then began brewing a potion.

Later, Snape stepped out, saying, “You have 15 more minutes, then you may leave.” He didn’t wait for a response.

Aaric looked at the potion Snape was making. It was Elixir of Mindfire. Snape was even using phoenix ash—an optional ingredient used to increase its efficacy.

Right now, it was boiling and would need to boil undisturbed for the next half hour.

There was one thing Snape hadn’t considered, though, thought Aaric.

The phoenix ash is pushing the burn rate too hard. It’ll overshoot clarity and begin to distort.

This was a basic lesson taught by Simon to Aaric. And though Snape was a master potioner, even masters overlooked basic lessons.

On the nearby ingredient tray, his eyes caught sight of an unopened vial.

Mindshade stabilizer. Subtle, rare, not usually added—but it could buffer the burn phase. Bring the potion to clarity without compromising potency.

Aaric lowered the heat slightly with a silent cooling charm. Then, one drop of stabilizer.

No flash. Just a subtle shift—the fumes cleared, the potion steadied.

He returned to his work.

Snape came back minutes later. He stopped and stared at the cauldron. A pause. Then a charm.

The potion glowed—stronger than before.

He said nothing at first. Then, without looking at Aaric:

“You’re done. Leave.”

Aaric packed up. At the door, Snape spoke again.

“Next time, don’t touch my cauldron.”

A beat.

“Unless you intend to finish the brew better than I did.”

He didn’t turn. Just added,

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.”

Aaric gave a nod. “Understood.”

And walked out.

Daphne was waiting in the common room.

“How was it?” she asked.

Aaric shrugged. “Less painful than expected. Learned a bit. Improved his potion.”

She blinked. “Wait—you what?”

“He was burning it too fast. Phoenix ash needs buffering. I fixed it.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m practical.”

She smirked. “If you’re done risking your life, can you help me with Charms?”

“Only if you follow me first,” Aaric replied, standing.

He grabbed her hand and tugged her along.

They entered the seventh floor, in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet.

Daphne chuckled at the painting, but then saw Aaric pace around the wall and grew confused—until a door appeared where the wall had been.

“Come in,” Aaric beckoned.

She followed Aaric inside and was surprised to see a room full of books and a practice area. It was the perfect room for practicing Charms.

“My dad told me about it,” Aaric said. “He found it when he was studying at Hogwarts. I didn’t believe him at first and thought he was messing with me. Seems he wasn’t.”

He was lying. He knew about it because he was a reincarnator.

Daphne was surprised. “So this is the secret Charms practicing room?”

Aaric clarified, “It will mold to your tastes. When you’re pacing that wall, just think of what you want the room to be. Come in. Let’s practice.”

Aaric helped Daphne with the Charms she was struggling with.

He then copied some books that weren’t in the library or syllabus and gave one copy to Daphne.

“You can’t take the books out. You’ll have to copy them. This charm will help you copy a book to a blank one.”

He then taught her the Scribblifors Replicata spell.

A/n : thoughts and stones my people

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep