Hogwarts: A Chinese-Style Professor

Chapter 255 Lead-Gray Clouds

In the second week of November, the students' enthusiasm reached a new peak thanks to the appearance of the task bulletin board.

This enthusiasm was like a surging tide, sweeping across the entire school and manifesting in every aspect; every professor could feel it.

Professor McGonagall was so moved by the positive changes in her students that she almost cried—more and more students began to notice that this stern professor was starting to smile more often.

When she faced Li Wei, she was full of praise for him. Whenever someone mentioned him to her, her tense face would melt away like ice, and even the corners of her mouth would be stained with shallow dimples.

In fact, Professor McGonagall was not the only one who truly felt the students' progress and their boundless enthusiasm.

During his third-year Potions class, Snape was unusually distracted.

Two months wouldn't normally change anything.

However, after the classes are combined, everything will be calculated at double the time.

Excluding holidays, these children have actually experienced half a year's worth of material in a short period of time. Even the worst first graders have become quite competent after being immersed in a large amount of knowledge.

Although some minor mistakes may be made in the process of moving from theory to practice, they are only minor issues such as "adding ingredients too late" or "stirring the soup pot not vigorously enough".

Medical incidents that could cause explosions and injuries, such as using the wrong materials or handling the wrong medicine, are now extremely rare.

Snape had almost forgotten when the last time he was angry because a student made a fatal mistake.

When did it start? These kids have become so outstanding, and I, blinded by Li Wei's so-called "shame," subconsciously overlooked their progress?

Really? Is he really like that?
Absolutely not!
Snape snapped back to reality, his eyes widening instinctively—based on past experience, if he didn't keep a close watch on the students, they would definitely cause a huge mess.

But when Snape looked at them, almost every student was calm and confident as they looked at the cauldron in front of them.

There was no panic, no commotion; some even took advantage of his absence to chat casually and comment on the potions in other people's cauldrons.

The smoke rising from the crucible carried the unique bitterness and fragrance of the magical herbs, instead of the pungent, strange smell that was the usual cause of the reaction.

Harry was carefully grinding the valerian root with the back of his silver knife, while Neville stood beside him, carefully reciting, "Grind it evenly seven times, then collect the juice. When it shines like pearls on the edge of the pot, you can add it in."

On the other side, at the site of the frequent disasters—Simor Finigan, the explosive kid who always blows up the crucible at the drop of a hat—nothing was destroyed. The crucible contained an imperfect but far from a failure pale purple color.
His medicine is almost finished, and now is the best time to repackage it.

"You'd better put out the fire within five seconds."

Snape offered a casual reminder.

"Ah—! Yes, Professor!"

Startled, Seamus quickly extinguished the flame—by the time he looked up, Snape had already moved on to another table.

"Symmo, what are you looking at?"

Ron asked, puzzled.

"Nothing—it's just that I suddenly feel Professor Snape seems a little different."

"Him? Come on, I'd rather believe Peeves will polish all his armor to a shine tomorrow than believe Professor Snape will change his mind."

Snape didn't hear Ron's criticism. But even if he had, he probably wouldn't have cared much.

Snape quickly scanned all the tables and strode back to the podium.

What made him feel somewhat uneasy was that after he started to linger, the students' behavior seemed to worsen.

Once he returned to the podium, the classroom returned to its previous tranquility, and the students carefully and attentively carried out each step of the procedure.
When did Potions class, which was always filled with his curses and chaos, become like this?

Did it start when Livy added Potions class quizzes to the Potions Handbook?

These little monsters, whose brains are filled with reeds, actually put their hearts into learning those complex things?
Snape was somewhat upset.

When the bell rang, every student at each table presented a "passing grade" potion—in fact, since the start of the new semester, apart from some trouble caused by the first graders, the returning students have indeed been improving year by year.
"get out of class is over."

Snape calmly announced his dismissal, as if in a daze, without picking out some inferior works to give direct and sharp comments as he usually did.

The students gave him a puzzled look, then packed up and left—Snape noticed that their conversation was much more relaxed than usual after class, and carried a hint of excitement at having completed a challenge.

Even after the classroom was empty, leaving only a thin mist mixed with the lingering smell of potions, Snape still stood on the podium, staring blankly out the window.

The leaden-gray clouds hung low, creating a somber and tranquil atmosphere.

"Harry, what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, I just feel that Professor Snape is acting a little strange today."

"Even you say that? Ximo said the same thing today. I thought he was mistaken."

Ron stared wide-eyed.

"So Professor Snape really has a problem? But why should we care—Snape is unusually refraining from causing us trouble, so there's no need for us to keep bothering him."

"Yes, you're right."

Harry spoke slowly, but his mind was on what Sirius had told him—at the Halloween dinner that day, he saw Sirius arguing angrily with Snape about something, so he later asked his godfather about it.

Sirius's expression at that moment was quite complex.

“That guy used to be at odds with us—your father and I often clashed with him.”

Including your mother's death. Harry, I'm sorry, I was a stupid and incompetent godfather."

Harry certainly wouldn't blame Sirius for that—the one who made the mistake was Peter Pettigrew, the perpetrator was Vader, and no one else was at fault.

No matter how many times you tell him, he will still think that way.

“Snape certainly has every right to hate me for this. He and your mother were childhood friends and used to be very close.”

Being told that the professor who had been targeting you maliciously actually had a good relationship with your mother when you were students is a very unsettling experience.

But at the same time, another thought began to take root in Harry's mind.

Is it possible that their relationship was originally very good?
(End of this chapter)