~ 💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 60→1ch | 100→2ch | 200→5ch ⏰ Resets Monday! Thanks!
For the next few weeks, Umbridge continued her rounds. She drifted through classrooms of every year and subject, firing questions, scratching notes onto her clipboard, and sending a steady stream of feedback to the professors.
Professor McGonagall received an 'A' and an 'E'. Professor Sprout got two 'A's and a 'P'—a few precocious Mandrakes had hit an early adolescence, turning moody, irritable, and sensitive. One of them had bitten Ernie Macmillan, a second-year Hufflepuff. Anthony's primary memory of him was a breakfast-time shouting match where Ernie defended his lifelong subscription to The Quibbler. Professor Kettleburn's evaluation results remained a mystery. The first letter he tossed into the fireplace; the second, his Salamander incinerated. No one knew if Umbridge had deemed his teaching a 'D' or a 'T'.
"I heard its appetite hasn't been the same since, poor thing," Professor Sprout told Anthony. "Parchment can't burn as nicely as firewood, I suppose."
She had just finished checking the dental health of all her Venomous Tentacula and was in excellent spirits. The days were growing longer, precious winter sunlight now warming the glass walls of the greenhouses. Even the letter regretfully informing her of her 'P' rating hadn't dampened her mood enough to forgo afternoon tea with Anthony in Greenhouse Two.
"I still haven't been evaluated," Anthony said. "I don't know what that means."
"Neither has Aurora," Professor Sprout offered consolingly. "Perhaps she simply forgot."
"Perhaps," Anthony said, not sounding convinced.
"Forgot what?" squeaked Professor Flitwick. He appeared at the door, peering over the handle on his tiptoes. "Biscuits? Wonderful! Are they peanut?"
"Just plain butter biscuits," Professor Sprout said. "Just finished a class, Filius? Would you like one?"
"Don't mind if I do, Pomona." Flitwick chirped happily. He turned his head. "Come in, come in. There are butter biscuits."
Snape stepped in silently behind him, his dour expression a stark contrast to Flitwick's buoyant steps. Flitwick levitated a bucket filled with assorted trowels to the table. It skidded to a stop with a creak, and he hopped onto it, settling comfortably and beaming at Professor Sprout and Anthony.
"Tea?" Anthony offered.
"If it's not too much trouble," Flitwick said, already leaning over to shake the biscuit tin, squinting at the ones buried underneath. "That brown one. Is that chocolate?"
"Oh, that!" Professor Sprout peered in. "I used a bit of carrot juice for colour, but I might have overbaked them."
Anthony poured tea for Flitwick and Snape, setting cups before them. Like Anthony, Snape had chosen an upended, enlarged terracotta plant pot as a seat. He accepted his cup and the brown biscuit Flitwick passed him with a grunt of vague thanks. He inspected the biscuit critically for a moment, then, with a look that said whatever, took a bite.
"Well?" Professor Sprout asked. "I nearly forgot I'd made them."
"If your aim was to confuse one's palate…" Snape began.
"Right, thank you, Severus," Professor Sprout said, amused. "Have a plain butter biscuit instead."
The corners of Snape's mouth tightened in a near-smug expression as he took two perfectly golden, crisp biscuits from the tin she nudged towards him. He looked more relaxed than when he'd entered, but his complexion was still terrible.
"Honest critique is always beneficial," he stated.
Professor Flitwick, curious, took a carrot biscuit and dipped it into his tea. "What were you discussing, Pomona? Who forgot what?"
"Umbridge," Sprout told him. "Anthony still hasn't been evaluated. I told him Aurora hasn't either."
"I doubt she's even encountered Aurora," Flitwick said. "Several Astronomy lessons have been cancelled lately due to the weather." He bit into his biscuit. "Hmm… Not bad, actually. Pairs nicely with black tea."
Professor Sprout also took a carrot biscuit. "Who did she evaluate this morning?"
"Minerva and Sybil," Flitwick said. "I ran into them. Sybil's results likely won't be stellar. Minerva was comforting her." He shook his head, turning to Anthony. "I shouldn't think you'll have any problems. Beyond the lesson content, it's just standard queries… years of teaching experience, opinion on student proficiency, future lesson plans, that sort of thing."
"She also mentioned she'd heard Minerva and I were friends," Professor Sprout added. "I told her we were. Then she asked if I thought Albus placed too much pressure and responsibility on Minerva. I suggested she ask Minerva herself, but she insisted on my opinion. So I told her I found Albus's arrangements perfectly reasonable. She didn't seem particularly satisfied with that answer."
"Ah, yes," Flitwick chimed in. "She asked me if I felt Ravenclaw House was being neglected within the school."
"How many evaluations have you had now, Filius?" Professor Sprout asked. "Two or three?"
"Three," Flitwick said. "One 'A', two 'E's."
"An 'A'!" Professor Sprout exclaimed. "What angle did she deduct points from?"
"Well," Anthony said. "Probably not for agreeing with Dumbledore's educational philosophy."
"Most certainly not," Flitwick agreed.
"Has anyone besides Gilderoy received an 'O' from her?" Professor Sprout wondered. "Severus?"
Snape set his cup down. "If you refer to the letter that appeared on my floor at two in the morning, I haven't found the time to open it yet…"
"I meant the previous one," Professor Sprout clarified. "I know she's been in your class twice now, Severus."
Snape answered reluctantly. "O. Outstanding."
Anthony was more interested in something else. "Professor Lockhart received an 'O'?"
"So he claims," Professor Flitwick said with academic precision. "He informed us he received three 'O's and was entirely unsurprised."
"Nor am I," Snape said sardonically. His cup held only a shallow layer of light reddish-brown tea now. Apart from half a carrot biscuit, the small saucer before him was empty.
"Have another biscuit, Severus," Professor Sprout said with concern. "Did you eat lunch today?"
"No," Snape said, a note of irritation in his voice. "Bole got his head stuck in a cauldron. Couldn't get it out. A remarkably sturdy brass cauldron. The reinforced, blast-proof variety."
Professor Sprout gasped. "Merlin's beard! Is he alright?"
"Presumably," Snape said. "It's difficult to be certain. Frankly, the portions of his head capable of sustaining damage were minimal to begin with."
"Why was his head in a cauldron?" Anthony asked, now genuinely concerned.
"Anthony!" Professor Sprout chided. "You've just made it sound a thousand times worse."
"Sorry," Anthony said.
He remembered Bole. Slytherin Beater. Preferred using his bat on opponents rather than Bludgers. In pre-class chatter, he and Flint were the names Angelina complained about most, second only to Slytherin's Nimbus 2001s. Given the chance, Anthony suspected Angelina and Wood would shove a cauldron over Bole's head without hesitation.
"According to him," Snape said, his tone flat, "he heard it helped focus the mind. Aiding exam performance."
"What?" Anthony asked. "Wait, he put his own head in the cauldron?"
"Evidently," Snape snapped. "Only he knows how he managed it. Poppy and I spent half an hour extracting what was allegedly a head from that vessel. He then decided, within a minute, to demonstrate the feat again. Seconds later, his head was once more adorned with that marvellous accessory."
Anthony felt a wave of sympathy for Snape.
"More tea, Professor Snape?" he offered.
Snape didn't answer. He grabbed the teapot and poured himself half a cup.
Professor Flitwick piped up, "I recall last year, students believed placing vampire fangs under their pillows would improve memory if they vanished—turned out the house-elves were delighted, constantly clearing rat teeth from the dormitories."
"Does this happen every year?" Anthony asked, thinking of his own fifth-year class. They hadn't seemed this anxious.
"Every year," Professor Sprout confirmed. "But usually not this early. A few days before exams, there's always a black market. Notes from previous years, talismans, stimulants, cheating quills… all sorts of counterfeit magical ingredients. Dried Daisy roots mixed with smelling salts passed off as Memory Powder…"
"If someone is foolish enough to mistake ground snake fangs for powdered dragon claw, or believe in concoctions with fabricated names like Baruffio's Brain Elixir, I have no issue with them missing their exams from a hospital bed," Snape said coldly.
"Ah, Baruffio's Brain Elixir," Professor Sprout said, a nostalgic smile touching her lips. "I nearly bought some before my exams. Merlin, it wasn't until I became a professor that I realized someone sells it every year. It's practically a tradition… or a legend, since no one knows what it's actually supposed to be."
"What is it?" Anthony asked.
Professor Flitwick explained, "A student-brewed 'stimulant.' At some point, they all decided to call it 'Baruffio's Brain Elixir'… I believe the year I took my N.E.W.T.s, it was green."
"Mine was pink," Professor Sprout said. "The general pitch is that it enhances memory, keeps you alert and clear-headed during exams, ensures you recall every fact you've ever seen…"
"And its actual effect is?" Anthony pressed.
"Typically, a foul-tasting liquid whose primary function is to kill one's appetite," Flitwick said. "The elixir was genuinely dangerous a few years, so we punished the brewers and confiscated the brown muck. But most of the time, it's just bitter water offering anxious students placebo comfort. Perhaps with some… laxative side effects."
"That sounds more plausible," Anthony said. "Though, I recall the rules state aids like powdered dragon claw or Felix Felicis are considered cheating?"
Professor Flitwick's eyes twinkled. "Correct. That's precisely why the sellers of Baruffio's Brain Elixir are so keen to have people check the exam regulations. They'll tell you other potions are banned, but the Examinations Authority hasn't gotten around to adding Baruffio's to the prohibited list—hard to ban something that doesn't exist, after all. Meanwhile, the name 'Baruffio's' is so famous students often believe it must be real."
Anthony pondered this. "If its advertised effects weren't so miraculous, I might believe it exists too. I mean, if there's a Forgetfulness Potion, surely there could be a Memory Potion."
"There is a Memory Potion, Anthony," Professor Sprout said. "But it's not what you're imagining."
Professor Flitwick clarified, "Its main use is coating objects so they remember their owner. People who can't afford expensive enchanted trunks often smear it on the locks of ordinary ones."
"I've heard some soak used Golden Snitches in it, then sell them as new," Professor Sprout added. "But, come to think of it, since we have Dreamless Sleep and Sleeping Draughts, surely there must be something to keep one awake and sharpen the mind? Not something like a Pepperup Potion, but something that lets you forget sleep entirely…"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Certainly, Pomona."
"Really? What are its ingredients?" Professor Sprout asked with interest. "How strange. Something like that should be as well-known as Dreamless Sleep."
Snape gave her a strange look, as if checking she was serious.
"What?" Professor Sprout asked, puzzled.
"Based on your knowledge of potion-making, Professor Anthony…" Snape turned to Anthony, loading the word 'your' with disdain. "Any thoughts?"
Professor Sprout protested, "Severus, must you keep bringing up Anthony's lack of traditional potions education? Really, it's not a—"
"Er, actually…" Anthony said. "Tea leaves. Or coffee beans, I'd imagine."
Snape offered him a thin, mocking smile. "Astonishingly, correct."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
📚 BOOK COMPLETED ON PATREON!📚
This story has reached its conclusion on my Patreon!
🔥 Full story available now
💎 Exclusive bonus content & early access to new books
👉 Join my Patreon community today!
✨patreon(.)com/GoldenLong
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━