After leaving the flying broom with difficulty, Glitter secretly decided in his heart that he must hollow out Professor Tom as soon as possible and develop his own flying skills.

This flying broom is really too assy.

If Hogwarts is not short of funds, why not think about replacing these old flying brooms with new ones.

Even if you don't replace it, can't you go back to the factory to renovate it?

Few of the seat charms embedded on it are still intact.

Except for those who really love Quidditch, there is basically no young wizard who can climb off the broom with a smile on his face.

And then there's Gryffindor and Slytherin, especially Slytherin.

Almost all of your families are pure-blooded, well-off, and pampered.

How can you endure this kind of torture, shouldn't you flick your wand and let your family donate a batch of flying broomsticks to the school.

I know that I put it there every day, and I call back and forth with the Lion Courtyard, and I don't do anything serious.

Or that Hufflepuff is the friendliest of the four colleges.

Watch as Glitter staggered, rubbing his ravaged ass as he struggled to move towards the tower.

A little badger caught up with him and stuffed him with a bottle of herbal ointment that was said to have been prepared by Professor Sprout to relieve stasis and relieve pain.

Before he could say thanks, the little badger ran away after stuffing his things.

Gotcha, owing a favor, Glitter thought about it again and again, and decided to teach the little badger the recipe in his private collection as a repayment.

But after thinking about it, so many professors have given him a lot of things more or less since he started school.

Dumbledore's notes, Professor McGonagall's school emblem, and Professor Flitwick as Head of School don't know how many times he has been recruited by him.

Only the arrogant Professor Snape will poison him if he opens a small stove.

After boiling the potion for so long, he didn't even let a drop of the potion come out.

Even now, seeing that he is becoming more and more proficient, he has begun to use him as a strong man, and let him help boil the potion orders placed by other people.

Gretel felt that the more he thought about it, the more angry he became, and he was prostituted for nothing.

Because even if it is a potions master in the opposition, he must pay enough wages to recruit apprentices, and even the potions that the apprentices themselves configure can be kept for themselves.

Gretel, who aspires to become a big capitalist, couldn't stand this anger and decided to go to Snape for a verbal battle.

If you don't have a salary, you can use him as a strong man, at least you have to turn a blind eye and let him come back with a few bottles of potions that he boiled.

Really speaking of the success rate, the potion materials he saved must have been tens or hundreds of Galleons.

——

"What a brain do you have, Mr. Harry Potter, you really should go and change the head of a troll, I think, it must be much smarter than you are now."

Gretel looked at the billowing smoke coming out of Snape's office and the two men standing in the doorway, and was about to turn away.

He only knew that Friday night the previous few weeks had been Harry's Little Stove time.

I didn't know that on Friday afternoon, he was already experiencing a mental beating from his father's rival.

If he had known, he would never have chosen such an awkward time to find Snape.

"Mike Gretel, come here."

Snape was indeed called the Bat Monster, and even if he didn't look back, he could know that it was Gretel.

There was no way, Gretel had to come to this embarrassing scene.

Snape was visibly angry, and Harry was smothered and picking his fingers, looking like he had been hit.

Snape cleaned up the mess with a clean-up charm.

"Mr. Potter, I want you to see Mr. Gretel's actions clearly, I don't want you to make such a low-level mistake again."

When the three of them returned to the office, Gretel saw the still smoking cauldron.

Approaching the crucible, I saw a brown lump at the bottom of the pot, sniffed the smell, and then looked at the form, it should be a necessary ingredient for the moderator The sneezing syrup was boiled.

Gretel couldn't help but exclaim in his heart, good guy, he really deserves to be the son of the white moonlight cinnabar mole.

It's only the first grade, and you let him learn how to make O.W.Ls palliative, which is almost a must.

Professor Snape, be sober, Harry is just an ordinary first-year.

You think everyone is like you, a half-blood prince who has been gifted as a Potions Master since childhood.

"Do you see what kind of potion it is?" Snape's mouth spat out a mournful voice.

Well, it's starting to test me again.

After discovering that Glitter was really gifted (crossed out, open), Snape became even more strict with his teaching model.

From time to time, he would take out a failed potion and let him identify what kind of potion it was, and analyze the potion materials in it.

"The palliative is half a silver cauldron of water, a moonstone milled into powder, 10 porcupine thorns and a unicorn horn milled into powder, and a valerian root and half a pint of sneeze syrup."

Clearly, Snape was pleased with Gretel's answer.

"Fetch the potion yourself," Snape's voice came out of his mouth almost nasally, "Mr. Potter, keep your eyes open and see how others do it, though I don't expect your troll-like brain to remember." ”

After grinding the moonstone, porcupine thorns, and unicorn horns, weighing them according to the required weights, and storing them separately, Gretel began the next step.

Snape smacked Harry grimly, "See, take care of all the materials in advance and put them in a convenient position to prevent mistakes in the busy." ”

……

It wasn't until the time to add the sneezing root syrup that Snape coughed lightly, alerting Harry to Gretel's actions.

Ignoring Snape's dead tsundere, Glitter carefully controlled the flame to a state where the potion would not boil.

As soon as the seven minutes are up, add the sneezing root syrup to turn the agent turquoise and keep it unboiled until the potion emits a silvery white steam that represents success.

Set aside to cool and serve.

"Mr. Potter, do you see, do you need me to help you change the head of a troll?"

"Yes, Professor, the flame was too big when I added the sneeze syrup." Harry replied honestly.

The first time Gretel saw someone, his pupils could contain both admiration and frustration.

Perhaps it was the blow to Harry today that had fully expressed his poisonous tongue attributes, and when Snape turned to Gretel again, there was a rare hint of mildness in his tone.

"So, Mr. Gretel, I remember that today should not be the day of your confinement, what is the matter with you coming here?"

Gretel couldn't say that he was here to negotiate, because he had already slipped a bottle of palliative into his pocket when it was ready.

Strangely, Snape saw it, but didn't stop it.

Gretel had reason to suspect that Snape was giving Harry eye medicine, but there was no evidence.

Gretel, who was weak-hearted, naturally couldn't say anything, so he had to interrupt: "It's nothing, it's just that you shouldn't have eaten when I think of the professor, come here to see if you need me to come to the restaurant and call you back." ”

"When did you see me eating in the office?" Snape's tone didn't rise or fall in the slightest.

In order to avoid being angered, Gretel hurriedly snorted and rubbed away from Harry.

In Harry's pitiful eyes for help, Glitter gave him a helpless expression and ran away.

Even after leaving the underground, Snape's brutal troll sarcasm could be heard.

But so what, Harry, who made you not Harry.