Chapter 34. Snape!
He paused, a hint of guidance flashing in his amber eyes, and lowered his voice slightly: "You are a student of Slytherin; perhaps... you could ask your Head of House? Professor Snape has attainments in the intersection of Potion and ancient magic that few others can match. He might very well be interested in the subject of Elemental Transmutation and magical resonance."
Edward's fingertips gently rubbed the edge of his notebook, the wooden texture pressing into his palm.
Professor Snape.
The name circled repeatedly in his mind. As the Head of Slytherin House and an authority on Potion, Snape was undoubtedly the most suitable second recommender. Moreover, the brewing of Potion was inherently a delicate game of elemental strategy - extracting, fusing, and transforming the energy within herbs, which shared countless commonalities with the subject he wished to study.
Once this thought took root, it grew wildly like a vine, entwining every nerve. Edward closed his notebook, a flicker of imperceptible determination flashing in his eyes: "I understand, Professor. I will refine the research plan to be even more rigorous."
Professor Flitwick nodded in satisfaction, turned, and waved his wand, causing all the feathers on the podium to levitate. Edward listened with intense focus, his pen scratching across the paper as he recorded every point the Professor made about "magic and elemental resonance frequency" without missing a word.
He knew that to persuade someone as fastidious as Snape, talent alone was not enough. He needed to demonstrate sufficient capability and present an impeccable research plan.
Thursday's Potions class arrived faster than expected.
The Potions class classroom on the underground level remained damp and gloomy. In the glass jars on the walls, pickled toads and fragments of Unicorn horn gleamed with an eerie luster under the dim, yellow light, and the air was filled with the pungent scent of sulfur mixed with wormwood. Professor Snape, dressed in a perfectly pressed black robe, slid into the classroom silently like a shadow. His cold gaze swept across the room, finally landing precisely on Harry, his lips curling into his habitual, mocking sneer.
"Today we are brewing a Draught of Peace," his voice hissed like a snake's tongue, his fingertips tapping lightly against the podium. "The ratio of Asphodel root powder to the infusion of Wormwood is critical - a one-to-three ratio, with a margin of error no greater than 0.1 grams. One wrong step, and the entire cauldron of Potion will turn into a puddle of foul-smelling slime. Potter, I suspect you don't even know that Asphodel root must be shade-dried for seven days before it can be ground, do you?"
Harry's face instantly flushed deep red, his clenched fists trembling slightly, but he couldn't utter a word. Ron was muttering something beside him, but when Professor Snape shot him a sharp glare, he immediately fell silent, terrified.
Edward stood before his own cauldron, ignoring the commotion around him. Before him, the pre-weighed ingredients were arranged neatly: the Asphodel root powder was ground as fine as dust, shimmering with a faint silvery glow in the sunlight; the infusion of Wormwood was contained in a crystal vial, its temperature precisely maintained at sixty degrees by his weak flame magic; the Bezoar was sliced into uniform, translucent slivers.
He picked up the silver key, his movements as fluid as a meticulously choreographed performance. The Asphodel root powder was slowly sprinkled into the boiling cauldron; the pale green liquid surged, yet not a single drop splashed out. When adding the infusion of Wormwood, he gave his wrist a slight turn, allowing the liquid to slide down the side of the cauldron, avoiding a violent reaction. When placing the Bezoar slivers in, his technique was as gentle as caressing fragile glass.
The liquid in the cauldron gradually became clear and bright, emitting a faint, fresh herbal fragrance, forming a sharp contrast to the black smoke and burnt odors rising from the cauldrons of the other students nearby.
Professor Snape had arrived at his side at some point, his long, slender fingers resting on the edge of the cauldron, his cold gaze fixed upon the near-perfect Draught of Peace. He said nothing, though a flicker of imperceptible approval flashed deep within his Black eyes. A few seconds later, he gave a slight nod and turned to walk toward the other students.
A loud "bang" came from Goyle's cauldron, and green slime splattered all over him; Draco panicked and knocked over his reagent bottle, his face turning pale; in Harry's cauldron, the liquid had already turned a murky, grayish-brown, emitting an unpleasant odor.
Edward's heart rate accelerated slightly.
The opportunity had arrived.
When the bell rang to end the class, the students scrambled to pack their things as if granted an amnesty, but Edward remained behind. He watched Professor Snape methodically organize the Potions textbooks on the podium, took a deep breath, and walked forward quickly, holding the densely written research plan.
"Professor."
Professor Snape looked up, his Black eyes holding a measure of scrutiny, as if evaluating the purity of a Potion: "Black? What is it?"
"I would like to apply for access to the Restricted Section of the library to consult some ancient texts regarding Elemental Transmutation and magical resonance." Edward's voice was clear and steady, without a hint of panic, and he handed over the research plan. "This is my research plan; everything from the research background to the expected results is written clearly. Professor Flitwick has already agreed to be my first recommender, and I hope you will be the second."
Professor Snape took the research plan, his long fingers turning through the pages of neatly written parchment. On the pages, not only were Edward's unique insights into the relationship between spells and elements written, but he had also cited viewpoints from multiple classics such as "Magical Theory" and "One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi", and even attached the data from the magical resonance experiments he had conducted, with logic so rigorous that not a single flaw could be found.
His gaze lingered on the four characters "Elemental Transmutation" for a long time, his fingertips tracing the handwriting on the paper as if weighing something.
Edward held his breath, waiting for his reply.
After a long while, Professor Snape slowly looked up, the light in his Black eyes unfathomable: "You wish to study this?"
"Yes, Professor." Edward met his gaze without flinching, his tone sincere. "I believe that the essence of Potion is the allocation and reconstruction of elemental energy, while spells are the directional release of elemental energy. There must be an underlying logic common to both. I wish to understand this logic so that I can better control magic."
Professor Snape's lips twitched, revealing an inscrutable smile. He closed the research proposal, placed it on the podium, and tapped his fingertips lightly against the cover. His tone remained cold, yet carried an undeniable firmness: "Many books in the Restricted Section record dangerous Dark Arts, or ancient theories that could completely overturn your current understanding. Those theories are obscure and difficult to grasp; the slightest carelessness could trigger a loss of magical control - you are only a first-year, your temperament is not yet stable, and these are things you should not be exposed to at your age."
Edward's pupils contracted slightly.
Rejected.
It was unexpected, yet reasonable.
Professor Snape watched the flash of disappointment on his face, paused, and his tone softened slightly, though it still carried a sense of distance: "If you have any questions regarding Potions or Elemental Transmutation, you can come to my office. I will answer them for you. But I cannot sign the permission for the Restricted Section."