Hogwarts corridor.
Lucien was heading down toward the dungeons to visit Snape's office. He wanted to ask the Potions Master for advice on improving a few potions.
Just as he rounded a corner, a group of young wizards walked past, chattering excitedly.
"…I'm telling you, the cauldron straight-up exploded!"
"Damn, Professor Snape must be furious. A Potions Master getting taken out like that…"
"Ugh, it sucks we missed it…"
Lucien's steps slowed.
A cauldron exploded? What happened to the old bat?
He was about to catch up and ask when he spotted a very familiar group coming toward him.
Ron was the most obvious—arms flailing, face as red as his hair, looking like he was about to burst from excitement. Harry walked beside him, lips pressed tight, desperately trying to hold back laughter while constantly pushing his crooked glasses back up. Hermione followed behind them, shaking her head with a look of pure exasperation.
Hermione noticed Lucien first and opened her mouth to greet him, but the red-haired rocket beside her shot forward.
"Lucien!" Ron skidded to a stop in front of him, practically vibrating with glee. "Guess what just happened in Potions class?!"
Lucien blinked, then quickly pieced it together from the earlier chatter and Ron's obvious delight.
"Someone's cauldron exploded again during class?"
He paused for a second.
Why did I automatically say "again"?
Ron burst out laughing and slapped his hands together.
"Haha! You nailed it! Snape's in the hospital wing!"
Lucien blinked again.
Snape's in the hospital wing?
A cauldron exploded… and Snape ended up in the hospital wing?
He looked at Harry, who was still fighting a grin, his lips twitching upward as he struggled to speak.
Ron, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying every second of this. The words "serves him right" were written all over his face.
Ron had never liked Snape. The man constantly picked on him in class. He couldn't match Hermione's ability to memorize every potion detail, and he didn't have Harry's natural talent for death-glaring the professor either.
Besides Neville, Ron took the most verbal abuse on a daily basis.
"I'll explain," Hermione sighed, stepping forward with the tone of someone who had accepted the universe's chaos. "During Potions, Seamus's cauldron exploded."
"Seamus again?" Lucien's mouth twitched.
"The thing is," Hermione continued, "the explosion sent the cauldron flying at high speed."
She paused, carefully choosing her next words.
"Unfortunately," she said with a hint of reluctant sympathy, "it hit Professor Snape directly in the back of the head."
Lucien: "…"
"Snape was supervising other students at the time, with his back turned to Seamus's group," Hermione added. "And the cauldron flew so fast he had zero time to react."
Lucien fell silent for a moment.
His mind automatically painted the scene: Snape standing there with his usual gloomy expression, inspecting a student's cauldron, black robes billowing dramatically. Then—wham!—a spinning cauldron comes flying out of nowhere and nails him square in the back of the skull.
The greatest Potions Master of his generation, the youngest Potions authority in decades, taken down by one of his own students' exploding cauldron.
"So he's still in the hospital wing?" Lucien asked.
"Madam Pomfrey said he might have a mild concussion and needs to be monitored," Hermione replied.
Ron was grinning so wide it looked painful. "You should've seen it. The whole classroom went dead silent! Seamus turned white as a ghost. I'm telling you, if Snape had been conscious, he would've turned him into potion ingredients right there on the spot!"
Harry finally lost the battle and let out a laugh. "The look on his face right before he passed out… I've never seen Snape look that stunned."
Lucien's mouth twitched again.
Seamus Finnigan, the walking explosion hazard, delivering yet another stellar performance. Or rather, he'd leveled up.
Previously, his explosions only hurt himself or his desk partner.
This time he'd gone big—attempting to take out the Potions Professor with a single flying cauldron?
That was impressive.
How the hell did the old bat end up on the receiving end of this kind of bad luck?
Wait… it couldn't be because he'd been covering Defense Against the Dark Arts for a few months and the position's curse was finally kicking in, could it?
"Alright, I'll go check on him in the hospital wing first." Lucien waved to the trio and turned, walking briskly toward the infirmary.