Hogwarts: Knight Wizard

"Professor, what are you thinking about?" 

Edward, who had quickly sorted all the ingredients, was already standing to the side with his hands at his sides. 

"I'm wondering when you'll finally manage to finish such a simple task!" 

Snape let out a cold huff, carefully inspecting the neatly sorted pile of ingredients, trying to find any mistakes. 

But every portion of the ingredients was measured perfectly, leaving even him unable to find fault. 

Narrowing his eyes, Snape shifted to questioning Edward about the steps for brewing the Forgetfulness Potion. 

"Tell me, how much moonstone is needed?" 

"Powdered, about one teaspoon." 

"How do you prepare valerian root, and what's its purpose?" 

"Sliced, it mainly has a calming effect, preventing headaches during memory erasure." 

"Do you slice sopophorous beans?" 

"The skin of sopophorous beans is tough and hard to slice. It's best to crush them." 

"When do you add mistletoe berries?" 

"After adding the sopophorous bean juice, on the fourth clockwise stir. Adding them too late can make the potion hallucinogenic." 

… 

Snape went through nearly every step of the Forgetfulness Potion's brewing process, stopping just short of having Edward demonstrate it himself. 

But Edward showed no trace of impatience. He calmly recalled the knowledge in his mind, answering each demanding question with precision. 

Some of his answers came from textbooks, others from his mother's guidance at home. 

At the same time, he marveled at Professor Snape's extraordinary expertise in potions. 

Strictly speaking, Edward relied on his enhanced memory to recite textbook knowledge so flawlessly. 

But Snape had no such advantage—he relied entirely on his own talent and intellect. 

"Not bad," Snape finally said, tossing out two curt words after exhausting his questions. 

"Though you've got the nerve to talk back to a teacher in class, it seems your brain works a bit better than those reckless Gryffindors." 

"Can I take that as a compliment, sir?" Edward's lips curved into a slight smile. 

He felt this was as close to special treatment as Snape would ever get. 

"Take it however you want," Snape replied, his face still stern. "But having a brain doesn't mean you can disrupt classroom order. Not even students from my own house get a pass. Understood?" 

His gaze locked onto Edward's green eyes, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. 

Smart, kind, with a strong sense of justice, exceptional potion-making talent, and a touch of stubbornness about the things he believed in. 

Aside from gender, the boy before him was strikingly similar to Lily. 

He'd even stood up for an outsider, risking conflict with his own housemates. 

Would Lily have been like this if she'd been sorted into Slytherin? 

This thought brought another person to Snape's mind. 

Anri Morgan, Edward's mother, who had helped him a few times when James Potter had pranked him. 

His gaze grew distant, as memories of several figures intertwined and overlapped in his mind. 

At least this boy was promising—far better than that insufferable Harry Potter. 

"You may leave, Mr. Bedivere." 

With a swish of his robes, Snape returned to his desk and picked up a quill. 

Edward, however, wasn't ready to leave just yet. He was about to ask a question about potions to enhance physical condition when Snape suddenly handed him a note. 

"Madam Pince: Please provide Edward Bedivere with all necessary assistance to borrow Powerful Potions." 

—Severus Snape 

"Go to the library and borrow this book. Study the first chapter. Next Friday, at this same time, I'll personally test your progress." 

Edward's eyes lit up instantly. 

Powerful Potions. He'd heard about this book from his mother. 

It contained many dangerous, controversial, and mysterious potions, requiring advanced brewing skills. Its terrifying illustrations even depicted some of the potions' effects. 

Both on the market and at Hogwarts, it was considered a restricted book in every sense. 

Was Snape giving him special treatment? 

This teacher's not so bad after all—just a bit prickly. 

Whatever the first chapter held, Edward was certain it would include what he was looking for—a way to enhance physical condition. 

"Thank you, sir. Have a great weekend." 

Edward carefully tucked the note into his robe, gave a respectful bow, and left. 

… 

Hogwarts had a curfew, so students couldn't wander the corridors at night, but there was no lights-out time. 

In each house's common room, enchanted fires burned all night, making them a popular spot for students on Friday evenings. 

Right now, the silver-and-green Slytherin common room was filled with students from various years. 

Some were intently studying green liquid in test tubes, as if conducting dangerous experiments. 

Some couples sat cozily by the glass windows, quietly watching the Black Lake's aquatic creatures and listening to the sound of waves. 

Others had set up a game of wizard chess. 

Despite the crowd, the room was far from noisy, with only faint whispers of conversation. 

This was mainly because prefect Gemma Farley was working on her assignments in a corner. 

A group had gathered on the sofas by the fireplace, mostly first-year students. 

Though they kept their voices low, everyone could clearly hear their conversation. 

They were obviously talking about Edward Bedivere. 

"What kind of face do you think he'll have when he comes back?" 

Malfoy lounged on the sofa, his expression dripping with schadenfreude. 

This was the happiest he'd been all week. 

Edward had been called to detention by Professor Snape! 

The gloom of the past week had vanished, and Malfoy felt energized, ready to tackle next week's flying lesson with confidence. 

"It's Snape, so probably a miserable one," Crabbe and Goyle chimed in, making exaggerated grimaces. 

Pansy, tossing her short hair, asked incredulously, "Is he crazy? Forget any Slytherin—even those reckless Gryffindors wouldn't dare openly defy Snape in class." 

"Crazy? Maybe," Blaise Zabini said, pulling up a stool to join the discussion as he passed by. "But I don't have much say in this. If it weren't for that 'crazy' guy, I might've been strangled by Devil's Snare in my first week." 

"Come on, Blaise, you're not seriously grateful just because he saved your life, are you?" Malfoy sneered. "Mark my words, he'll cause even more trouble—just like that annoying Harry Potter!" 

"Speaking of trouble, I seem to recall someone losing 25 points for our house on the first day. Anyone care to remind me who that was?" 

Daphne leaned lazily on an armchair, her laurel pin glinting faintly in the firelight. 

Malfoy's face turned redder than the flames. 

"Daphne, it's only been a week, and you're already smitten with that pretty boy?" 

"Malfoy, even your venomous tongue can't deny the fact that Edward's earned more points this week than all of us combined," Daphne said, too bored to argue further. 

"The Greengrass motto is to use everything to your advantage. Hanging around him beats losing points with you, don't you think?" 

"You—!" 

Everyone, including Malfoy, fell silent. 

Slytherins were undeniably cunning, but they also had a strong sense of house pride. 

Unlike Gryffindors, who didn't care about losing points, Slytherin had won the House Cup for six years straight. From the head of house to the prefects to every student, they all wanted to continue last year's glory. 

And that glory wasn't just because of Snape's favoritism. 

In Slytherin, how many points you earned for the house largely determined how much respect you commanded. 

"Just you wait! I'll earn more points than Bedivere ever will!" Malfoy muttered under his breath. 

"But for now, let's see how dejected he looks coming back from detention. I bet he'll slink back to the common room after everyone's asleep—" 

Just as he was about to gloat again, the other students' gazes drifted behind him. 

"Did I just hear someone talking about points and detention? Did I miss something?"