Chapter 125: Detention
On Saturday afternoon, Jon took advantage of a trip to the library to return the book, Advanced Transfiguration Guide, to Madam Pince.
When he returned to the dining hall for supper, an owl swooped in and dropped a small box in front of him.
Jon picked up the box and slipped it into his pocket.
...
After dinner, he headed for Professor Snape’s office.
In the years he’d been at Hogwarts, Jon had ended up in Snape’s office almost every year thanks to some unexpected incident. By now, he was almost used to it.
After a light knock, Snape’s cold voice came from inside.
“Enter.”
Jon quickly stepped in. “Professor Snape!”
His eyes flicked over the shelves, stacked with glass vials of every color...
“You’re here.” Snape looked up, glared at him, then turned back to the cauldron in front of him. “Deal with the toads in that barrel.”
Only then did Jon notice a large wooden barrel sitting in the middle of the office.
“Croak... croak... croak...” The sound echoed continuously from inside.
Peering in, he saw it was packed tight with toads—strange-looking ones, each with a horn sprouting from its head.
“Bohemian Horned Toads,” Snape said icily. “Hart, remove their hearts and livers.”
He tossed Jon a small silver knife.
“Yes, Professor.” Jon nodded, picked up the knife, examined it carefully, then set it back on the table.
From his pocket, he pulled out the small box that had been delivered by owl during dinner.
Back on Tuesday, when he’d received notice of his detention, Jon had written to Eric, asking him to buy two scalpels and a box of blades and send them over.
Bohemian Horned Toads had an unusually tough hide. Ordinary knives had trouble piercing it.
Now, he fitted a blade onto one of the scalpels.
Without question, this was a tool he was long familiar with—far more precise and comfortable than a standard silver knife.
With his left hand, he easily scooped a toad from the barrel—
“Croak...”
A startled cry, then Jon smoothly drove the scalpel into its belly and slit it open with practiced ease.
In barely ten seconds, he found the heart and liver, removed them, and set them neatly into separate jars. He tossed the dead toad into an empty wooden tub, then reached for the next one...
At first, he was a bit clumsy. But after dissecting a dozen or so, his hands moved with practiced rhythm.
Snape raised his head in faint surprise, watching Jon’s precise cuts as he pierced the toad’s belly, the ease with which he drew out the organs, and the calm way he swapped a dulled scalpel blade for a fresh one...
...
Barely an hour and a half later, the once-empty tub was piled with toad carcasses.
The other tub, once brimming, was now completely empty.
“I think I’m finished, Professor.” Jon stood up, holding two glass jars—one filled with hearts, the other with livers.
“Put them on the shelf.” Snape’s eyes remained fixed on the cauldron before him.
Jon followed the alphabetical labels on the rack and set both jars in their proper places.
When he turned back, he heard Snape say quietly, “Those blades you were using... let me see them.”
This time, his voice wasn’t as cold as usual. There was a trace of curiosity.
“Yes, Professor.” Jon quickly produced another scalpel and a fresh blade from his pocket, handing them over.
Snape took several minutes, a bit awkwardly, to fit the blade onto the scalpel.
“Fragile, break easily... yet razor-sharp,” Snape muttered, almost to himself, staring at the scalpel in his hand. Then he drew the blade lightly across his finger.
With almost no force, the blade sliced deep, and blood welled up at once.
“Episkey.” Snape set the scalpel down, drew his wand with his other hand, and pointed it at the wound.
In seconds, the cut vanished, leaving his finger whole again.
Then he aimed his wand at Jon’s hands and murmured, “Scourgify.”
The bloodstains and bits of toad entrails under his nails vanished, leaving his hands clean.
“Professor!” Jon quickly spoke up before Snape could say anything. “I have two of these knives. If you don’t mind, you can keep that one here.”
Snape narrowed his eyes but remained silent.
Jon hurriedly took out the case of blades and poured a dozen brand-new ones onto Snape’s desk.
Still, Snape said nothing. With a flick of his wand, both the scalpel and the blades floated neatly into his drawer.
...
“Now, help me with something else.” Snape’s voice was cold again as he gestured at the cauldron before him.
“Professor, what potion are you brewing?” Jon asked carefully.
“Wolfsbane Potion,” Snape replied icily. “A certain werewolf still requires my assistance to keep his sanity during the full moon... Hmph. Were it not for Dumbledore’s request...”
This wasn’t Jon’s first time seeing Snape work on Wolfsbane Potion. Last time, Snape had merely hinted at the presence of a werewolf in the school. This time, he revealed nearly the entire process.
“For certain advanced potions...” Snape began slowly.
Jon pricked up his ears at once.
“The real difficulty doesn’t lie in the process or the handling of ingredients,” Snape paused before continuing, “but in the final step.”
“Even for the same potion, different wizards must approach it differently. It relies on personal experimentation, on inspiration. Books and instruction alone will never give it to you.”
“That is why I’ve always believed potions require talent. The fools I encounter day after day will never achieve anything of worth.” Snape sneered. “This final step is what we call a potion’s sequence. For any advanced potion, if you cannot find your own sequence, you will never succeed in brewing it.”
Jon nodded thoughtfully.
Meanwhile, black smoke was beginning to curl from Snape’s cauldron...
Jon raised his head and asked boldly, “Professor Snape... could you give me detention more often?”
Snape shot him a cold look, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “As you wish—if you’re eager to come here and do filthy work like today.”
“Once a week, then,” he added after a pause.
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