Inside the Potions classroom.
Lucien was toying with an uneven sphere. As the gears turned, the grooves and tal pillars on the sphere's surface moved in a rhythmic pattern.
At the sa ti, he subtly adjusted the internal components with his wand. This was a simplified puppet core he had made the night before—sothing that could serve as a power source for golems or chanical constructs.
Because it was so simple, the power it could provide was also limited—probably only enough to drive a chanical animal the size of a cat or dog at most.
But that was sufficient; he only needed to create an alchemical chanical animal, with no specific requirents for size or function.
Hmm, the core itself was fine—just basic Alchemy forging and chanical knowledge.
However, when it ca to assembling the body and enabling movent, Transfiguration would be required—specifically, solidified Transfiguration.
Otherwise, the chanical construct would only function under his control and would require him to frequently cast spells to maintain the Transfiguration effect.
In the end, refining chanical animals and mastering solidified Transfiguration—tasks that had initially seed like two separate goals—were essentially one and the sa.
"Lucien, what's that in your hand?"
Lucien looked up. Ron, sitting in the front row, was staring at him with curiosity—or rather, at the spherical core in his hand.
"Just a little toy I made on a whim. What, are you interested in this sort of thing?"
"You made it yourself? Lucien, you're really amazing! Hehe, my dad likes Muggle technology—especially complex chanical constructs—so I know a little about them."
Lucien nodded. Right, Ron's dad had modified a flying car, and Ron himself was bold enough to fly it to Hogwarts with Harry in their second year.
He glanced at the seat next to Ron.
"Harry's not here yet? Class is about to start."
Ron shrugged.
"I called him this morning. He said he'd get up after a bit more sleep. He was morizing sothing last night—he wasn't asleep before I fell asleep, anyway."
Lucien felt a bit awkward. It seed Harry really had been working on the morization task he'd assigned.
That boy wouldn't be late, right?
Today was the combined Potions class for Ravenclaw and Gryffindor—Lucien had been looking forward to so drama in the front row.
Ding-a-ling-ling—
The class bell rang.
Lucien looked toward the door.
Sure enough, the first to float in was Old Bat himself.
"Put away anything unrelated to Potions. Roll call begins now!"
"…"
"Harry Potter."
No one responded. The classroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
"Weasley, where is Potter?"
Ron, as if summoned by the King of Hell, trembled all over.
"P-Professor, Harry—Harry had a stomachache and went to the washroom!"
"Oh, is that so."
"Gryffindor, five points deducted."
Lucien could already hear the anger in Snape's voice.
He hoped Harry rembered to take the Potion before arriving—and didn't forget to take off his glasses. Otherwise, he'd be in for a rough ti.
"This lesson, we will be brewing a Stomach-Soothing Potion…"
"…"
After more than ten minutes of explanation, Snape finished introducing the effects and brewing process of the Potion.
"…The sll of Entwining Stonegrass is pungent. If you're sensitive, tearing up and nasal congestion are normal reactions. Don't make a fuss when that happens!"
After giving his final instruction, Snape glanced at the empty seat beside Ron.
A cold voice slipped from between his lips, "Weasley, you had best explain it to Potter. He seems to be in great need of this Potion."
Hearing this, Ron nodded frantically.
Lucien, seated behind him, heard him mutter softly:
"Harry, hurry up and get here! If you don't co soon, I'm going to die…"
Lucien shook his head. At this rate, they'd be talking about two casualties.
It seed he really should cut back on the amount of howork. Making sure the students got enough sleep was clearly necessary.
Just as Lucien was about to start preparing the ingredients, he caught a glimpse—out of the corner of his eye—of soone sneaking into the classroom.
Hmph. That boy finally showed up.
"Oh, it seems the one most in need of a Stomach-Soothing Potion has arrived."
Even though Harry was tiptoeing and Snape had his back to the door, the cold sarcasm in his voice—barely suppressing his anger—echoed through the silent classroom.
Lucien saw Harry visibly freeze in place.
Wow, truly ears as sharp as a bat.
Snape turned around, his icy gaze locking onto Harry. Words slipped out through clenched teeth:
"Eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds late, Potter. Your sense of ti has also flushed down the—"
Suddenly, Snape's words cut off.
It was as if a venomous snake had choked on its own poison just before striking.
Harry, who had been hunched over, suddenly lifted his head and t Snape's cold gaze.
Unfortunately, Lucien couldn't see what was happening from his angle.
Snape was facing Harry—but that ant his back was to Lucien.
Though Lucien couldn't see, Harry saw everything clearly.
Snape's eyes, which had been as cold and sharp as a snake's, suddenly turned dull… then confused.
After a full ten seconds of silence, Snape finally spoke. His tone was still cold, but with a noticeable stiffness:
"Po… What were you doing just now?"
Snape's question made Harry pause. Wasn't he just late?
But out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Ron, frantically gesturing at him, mouthing sothing he couldn't quite make out.
With almost no hesitation, Harry said firmly, "The washroom, Professor. I suddenly had a bad stomachache before class."
Lucien clearly saw Ron in the front row let out a huge sigh of relief, his tense shoulders slumping.
So this was the unspoken bond between good mates—one dared to lie, and the other dared to back him up.
"Hmm, go sit down."
"You can ask Wes… ask Grafton about the earlier explanation."
Harry was a bit confused by Snape's correction, but he still walked over and sat down next to Ron.
"It really worked? Lucien was right!"
Hearing Harry's quiet murmur, Lucien also noticed his bright erald-green eyes—no longer obscured by glasses.
Hmm. A teachable student.
While processing the ingredients, Lucien explained the effects and brewing thod of the Stomach-Soothing Potion to Harry, and reminded him about the precautions when handling Entwining Stonegrass.
Harry quickly got to work. Even though he'd avoided punishnt just now, based on past experience, Snape would most likely still co looking for an excuse.
Only two or three minutes had passed.
Snape, as if already irritated, stood in front of Harry's desk and asked condescendingly:
"How should Armadillo bile be processed before use?"
Harry's hand, which was working on the Entwining Stonegrass, paused. But thinking back to the fact he had morized this point just yesterday, he reminded himself there was no need to panic.
He looked up and answered confidently, "Filter it three tis with an ice crystal funnel."
"How should Crimson Blood Tree bark be collected?"
"First—first use a Freezing Charm, then cut with a golden knife after cooling."
"What can be obtained by mixing Absoluted Bird Droppings and Mandrake root?"
Caught off guard by the sudden, off-topic question, Harry couldn't answer. At the sa ti, the strong odor of the Entwining Stonegrass began to sting his nose.
His eyes started to water, and he instinctively wanted to look down.
But Lucien's earlier words flashed through his mind:
"…Even if you cry, you must keep staring at him…"
Harry, fighting back tears, stubbornly straightened his neck and looked Snape directly in the eyes.
"I don't know!"
The almost shouted reply, however, didn't provoke much of a reaction.
Snape rely stared at him—at those eyes no longer hidden behind glasses, at those eyes that looked just like Lily's, at those eyes filled with tears...
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