Harry Potter: Don't Touch the Badger's Plants

In the deep night corridors, tired, hurried footsteps echoed through the castle.

Snape had just finished guiding sixth-year students taking N.E.W.T. courses and was hurrying toward his office. As Hogwarts' Potions professor and Head of Slytherin House, he was truly overwhelmed with responsibilities.

Just teaching young wizards of various years consumed enormous amounts of his time. Besides that, he had to guide promising students individually. Then there was the time needed to prepare potion ingredients for classes. This meant he had to squeeze out precious moments even for potion research topics that genuinely interested him.

As for trivial matters like washing his hair, those had to be postponed even further.

"Damn it. The flobberworm mucus is almost used up. Several years' worth of Potions classes tomorrow will need it—I need to process some..."

Snape frowned, then his steps halted abruptly. He suddenly remembered that he had assigned Ciel the task of processing flobberworms. He wondered how the boy was managing with it.

Snape's steps turned toward the Potions classroom. He already had expectations in his heart. Such a heavy task, plus flobberworms were disgusting and easily caused itching. Ciel had probably already quietly slipped away.

If that were the case, he thought with satisfaction, then I could legitimately deduct points from Hufflepuff, and even Professor Sprout wouldn't be able to say anything.

Thinking this, Snape quickened his pace. But when he approached the Potions classroom, his steps gradually became hesitant. So late at night, why were the lights still on in the classroom? The light even cast shadows through the doorway.

Snape took a sharp breath, a thought arising in his mind. "No way? Ciel Sprout, he's still processing flobberworms?!"

Then Snape shook his head repeatedly, unwilling to believe this. "Impossible. He must be slacking off. I know—he must have heard my footsteps and then started working to gain sympathy from me."

Snape snorted coldly, showing an expression of having seen through everything. He quickly walked into the Potions classroom.

In a few steps, he reached the basket of flobberworms and looked at Ciel, who was sweeping the floor.

"Ciel Sprout, didn't I tell you to process flobberworms? Why are you sweeping the floor?!"

The next moment, when Ciel saw Snape, his face lit up with genuine joy.

"Professor Snape, you're finally here! Actually, I'd really like to process a few more baskets of flobberworms. But I've already finished them all. With nothing to do, I could only clean the classroom first."

As he spoke, Ciel said repeatedly with enthusiasm, "Professor, give me a few more baskets of flobberworms!"

Snape paused, his brain struggling to process this unexpected response. What did he mean by "finished them all"? That was a whole basket of flobberworms—tedious, boring, disgusting work that made people itch all over. How could anyone do this for an entire night? And even enjoy it?

But immediately after, Snape saw bottle after bottle of processed mucus in the basket. His pupils contracted slightly. Not only because Ciel had actually finished processing the flobberworms, but also because the quality of the mucus was considerably higher than he had estimated.

This young wizard had actually processed each one carefully and with full concentration?

Snape opened his mouth, suddenly finding himself speechless. According to his original plan, should he deduct points from Ciel? That wouldn't be right—he had to be reasonable. Or should he tell Ciel that he didn't need him as a Potions assistant and would find someone else?

Snape felt conflicted. After all, if it were other young wizards, even fifth or sixth years, they might far exceed Ciel in potion-making skills. But for something like squeezing flobberworms, would they be willing to do it? Probably not. Not to mention being as meticulous as Ciel.

After a moment, Snape quietly developed a new idea. Why not let him work a few more days? Yes, that's right—exploit him for a few more days. Doing such heavy labor every day, I don't believe he can keep it up. When he can't persist anymore, I'll naturally kick him out.

So Snape said with studied indifference, "Your flobberworm processing is barely acceptable, still quite rough. Watch carefully—this is how flobberworms should be processed."

He brought another large basket of flobberworms and personally demonstrated for Ciel. Snape's movements were fluid and graceful. With a gentle touch, crystal-clear and viscous mucus was squeezed from each flobberworm. The quality of this mucus was obviously several grades higher than what Ciel had produced.

Seeing this masterful technique, Ciel showed genuine admiration. Snape was indeed a Potions master. Although his magical strength was formidable, potions were his true specialty. No wonder both Dumbledore and Voldemort valued him so highly. This processing was simply artistic.

Just watching once, Ciel felt something stir within him. The insights from processing flobberworms earlier seemed to deepen. Even on his system panel, the silver luster appearing on Magical Perception Enhancement spread faster.

Ciel felt joy surge through him. At this rate, with daily trimming of discarded brooms, plus processing potion ingredients given by Snape, then observing Snape's techniques and harvesting rewards from Goldfish Vines, the moment for Magical Perception Enhancement to advance to Silver Tier wouldn't be far away.

By then, his magic would receive comprehensive amplification!

So Ciel quickly threw himself into processing the new basket of flobberworms with renewed enthusiasm.

Snape returned to his office, noting the earlier hour than usual. Thinking about how he wouldn't have to do those low-level, tedious tasks anymore, his mood improved considerably. Today he had more time than usual to research potion topics that truly mattered.

As for finding opportunities to deduct points from Hufflepuff, this was temporarily pushed to the back of his mind. "Tomorrow," he told himself. "If Ciel makes mistakes in his work tomorrow, I'll deduct points from Hufflepuff then."

This thought flashed through his mind, and Snape's attention immersed itself in the profound study of potions.

The next day, Snape examined the full large bottle of flobberworm mucus Ciel had provided. He noticed that its quality had improved slightly again. This mucus would be enough for him to use for two weeks.

A trace of satisfaction flashed in his eyes, but he showed nothing on his face. Instead, he brought another large basket of porcupine quills and told Ciel to finish them today. This way, he could have over three complete hours tonight to devote to potion research.

As for deducting points... "Wait a bit more. When Ciel makes some mistake processing the porcupine quills, I'll deduct points then."

The third day, the fourth day... unknowingly, a week passed.

Snape had gradually become accustomed to Ciel helping him process those trivial materials, allowing him to squeeze out time to invest in topics that truly required precious brainpower. So much so that on Friday, he suddenly realized he had completely forgotten about deducting points from Hufflepuff, causing Slytherin to still lag behind in the House Cup.

But after a moment, Snape consoled himself: "Next week. Definitely next week. After Ciel finishes processing the materials I need for next week this weekend, I'll definitely deduct points from him next week!"

But at this time, Snape received an unexpected leave request from Ciel.

He took a deep breath, showing bewilderment in his eyes, his tone rising several degrees. "What? You want to take leave today?"

Snape tried hard to keep his face stern, not letting any unusual expression show. "Reason," he said coldly.

Ciel showed a genuine apologetic expression. "Professor, the exclusive spell Professor Flitwick developed for me has been completed. This spell is very important to me, so I'm afraid I'll have to be absent today."

Snape stared at Ciel for several long moments, frowned deeply, and turned to leave. Only a dissatisfied grunt remained in the air: "Hmph."

As Snape walked away, he felt distinctly disdainful. An exclusive spell developed in a week's time—what rare treasure could it be, worth this little badger's attention? Developing spells—I could do that when I was in school. If this little badger begged me, I might even design a more powerful spell for him. Hmph, no vision. Foolish!

At this time, Ciel was completely unaware of Snape's internal monologue. His eyes were filled with anticipation as he quickly walked toward Professor Flitwick's office, eager to see what magical innovation awaited him.

(End of Chapter)

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