Inside the Potions classroom.
Lucien toyed with a bumpy little orb, its surface slots and tal pins pulsing rhythmically with the turning gears.
At the sa ti, he used his wand to make tiny adjustnts to the internals—this was a simple puppet core he'd whipped up last night. It could power a golem puppet or so chanical contraption.
Since it was basic, the power output was limited—probably enough to drive a chanical animal the size of a cat or dog, at most.
But that'd do the trick. He just needed to make an alchemy chanical animal; size and features didn't matter.
Yeah, the core itself was solid—just pure alchemy forging and chanical know-how.
But when it ca to assembling the body and making it move, that's where transfiguration ca in. Specifically, permanent transfiguration.
Otherwise, only he could use the thing, and he'd have to keep recasting the spell to maintain the effect.
So, brewing a chanical animal and mastering permanent transfiguration looked like two separate tasks, but really, they were basically one and the sa.
"Lucien, what's that thing in your hand?"
Lucien looked up. Ron from the front row was staring at him curiously—or more like at the orb in his hand.
"Just a little toy I threw together. Why, you into stuff like this?"
"You made it yourself? You're amazing, Lucien. Heh, my dad's a fan of Muggle tech gadgets, including all sorts of complicated chanical things, so I've picked up a bit."
Lucien nodded. Yeah, Ron's dad had modded a flying car, and this kid was no slouch either—second year, and he was already flying one with Harry to Hogwarts.
He glanced at the spot next to Ron.
"Harry not here yet? Class is about to start."
Ron shrugged.
"I woke him up this morning. He said he'd get up in a bit. Looked like he was cramming sothing last night—anyway, he wasn't asleep when I conked out."
Lucien felt a bit awkward. Sounds like Harry was tackling the morization howork he'd assigned.
The kid better not be late. Today was Potions with Ravenclaw and Gryffindor together, and he was counting on so front-row drama.
Ding-ding-ding—
The bell rang for class.
Lucien eyed the door.
Here we go—first in was the old bat.
"Put away anything not related to Potions. Roll call starts now!"
"..."
"Harry Potter!"
No response. The room was dead silent.
"Weasley—where's Potter?"
Ron, like he'd been called by the Grim Reaper himself, shuddered.
"P-Professor, Harry—Harry's got a stomachache. He's in the loo!"
"Oh, is he."
"Gryffindor, minus five points!"
Lucien could already hear the anger simring in Snape's voice.
Hope the kid rembers to pop a potion and ditch his glasses before he shows up, or he's in for a rough ti.
"Today's lesson is brewing Stomach-Calming Solution..."
"..."
After about ten minutes of explanation, Snape covered the potion's effects and brewing thod.
"...The sll of knotgrass is pungent. If you're sensitive, tearing up or a stuffy nose is normal—just don't co whining to !"
With his final warning, Snape glanced at the empty seat next to Ron.
A cold voice squeezed through his lips:
"Weasley, you'd better explain this to Potter. He could probably use a batch of this potion."
Ron nodded like his life depended on it.
From the back, Lucien heard him muttering under his breath:
"Harry, get here quick, or I'm done for..."
Lucien shook his head. At this rate, it was gonna be one corpse and two ghosts.
Maybe he should cut back on the howork a tad. Kids need their sleep.
Just as Lucien was about to start prepping his ingredients, he caught a shadowy figure sneaking in from the corner of his eye.
Whoa, the kid finally made it.
"Oh, looks like the one who needs the stomach potion most has arrived."
Harry had been tiptoeing, and Snape had his back to the door, but the cold sarcasm laced with barely contained fury echoed through the quiet room anyway.
Lucien saw Harry's movents freeze up.
Wow, bat-like hearing, alright.
Snape whirled around, his icy gaze locking onto Harry as words spat from his lips one by one.
"Eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds late, Potter. Your sense of ti must have rushed off to—"
Suddenly, Snape's words cut off.
Like a viper choking on its own venom.
Harry, who had been hunched low, suddenly lifted his head, eting Snape's cold eyes with his own.
Sigh, bad angle—he couldn't see.
Snape was facing Harry now, which ant his back was to Lucien.
Lucien couldn't make it out, but Harry could see just fine.
Snape's snake-like glare, which had been icy, went blank—then confused.
After a solid ten seconds of silence, Snape finally spoke, his tone flat but a bit stiff.
"Pot... what were you just doing?"
The question caught Harry off guard. Hadn't he just been late?
But he caught Ron gesturing wildly at him from the corner of his eye, mouthing sothing exaggerated.
Without a second thought, Harry said firmly:
"The loo, Professor. I had a sudden stomachache before class."
Lucien clearly saw Ron up front exhale in relief, his tense back slumping.
That the kind of bro telepathy? One makes up the story, the other rolls with it.
"Hm. Take a seat."
"You missed the explanation—ask Weasley... ask Grafton."
Harry was a little puzzled by Snape's instructions but slid into the seat next to Ron anyway.
"Could it really work? Lucien's right!"
Lucien caught Harry's quiet mutter and saw his eyes—glasses-free and a brighter green than usual.
Yeah, the kid's teachable.
As he worked on his ingredients, Lucien explained the stomach potion's effects and brewing steps to Harry, including the knotgrass warnings.
Harry hustled to prep too. He'd dodged the initial chew-out, but based on past experience, Snape would probably grill him anyway.
Sure enough, just two or three minutes later...
Snape lood over Harry's table like he couldn't wait, asking from on high:
"How do you prepare armadillo bile before using it?"
Harry paused mid-chop on his knotgrass, but rembering he'd cramd this yesterday, he didn't panic. He looked up and answered straight:
"Filter it three tis through an ice crystal funnel."
"How do you harvest redwood bark?"
"First... first use a Freezing Charm to cool it, then cut with a golden knife."
"What do you get from mixing screechsnail mucus and mandrake root?"
This one was way advanced—Harry blanked, and the knotgrass fus started stinging his nose.
A wave of tears welled up, making him want to duck his head.
But Lucien's words flashed in his mind:
"...Even if you cry, keep staring at him..."
Harry fought back the tears, straightened his neck stubbornly, and locked eyes with Snape.
"I don't know!"
The near-shout hung in the air, but it didn't spark any backlash.
Snape just stared at Harry. Stared at those eyes unblocked by lenses. Stared at those eyes so like Lily's. Stared at those eyes brimming with tears...
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