Chapter 71: Snape's Separation Charm
Ethan returned to the dormitory with the photo. He placed the frame on his desk and silently looked at the people in it.
The dormitory was quiet now. Draco had taken Crabbe and Goyle somewhere, leaving him alone.
"Thank you very much for giving birth to me, and thank you for protecting me with your lives. After I become stronger, I will kill the remaining few to pay tribute to you."
He thought silently, the red light in his eyes flickering continuously.
Finally, he placed the photo frame face down on the desk, not wanting his roommates to see it.
The next day, his mood was much better than yesterday, but he was still somewhat quiet. So during Snape's master class, he spoke much less than before.
Snape knew he had been called away by Dumbledore last night and didn't ask what happened, but the pity in his eyes became even harder to conceal.
Still feeling uncomfortable, Ethan finally lost his patience after enduring for a long time. He asked directly: "Professor, why are you looking at me with such eyes?"
Snape didn't hide it either: "What did Dumbledore say to you? Did he not tell you to make good use of your natural talent?"
"No, he just told me some things about my family last night." Ethan felt he had said too much to Snape. He was different from him, even if he was a natural Occlumens.
"Your family? Shafiq, right?"
"You know?" Ethan was startled. His hand faltered, and some of the potion he was stirring splashed out, landing on the floor with a sizzling sound.
Snape waved his wand, cleaning up the potion on the floor, and roared: "Do you want to go to the Hospital Wing?!"
Ethan quickly returned to normal movements, stirring the potion evenly.
"Professor, did you already know I was from the Shafiq family?"
"Figured it out long ago. You look somewhat like your father. Coupled with that Pandanus wand you're carrying, anyone who knows your family would have put it together by now."
"So, basically all the professors at the school know my background?" Ethan truly couldn't have imagined that his background, which he'd thought was a mystery and had dug through plenty of information trying to find clues about, was actually an open secret.
"Everyone's just guessing, not daring to confirm. But looking at how you've carried yourself, it does seem true. Rhett's son." Snape sighed with feeling.
"I knew your father. He was in Slytherin too, but he was mysterious, profoundly so. A loner, rarely interacting with classmates in his own year, let alone students from other years. I only got to know him by chance as well." As Snape said this, a flash of hatred crossed his face.
"So, you teach me potion brewing because of my father?" Ethan realized why Snape seemed to treat him well during the first Potions class. Presumably, it was because he guessed he was related to the late Rhett Shafiq.
As for the pity after learning he was a natural Occlumens, presumably besides thinking he might be chosen by Dumbledore to be a double agent like him, there was also some pity for his deceased parents.
"Partly. Also, I think you should be suitable for brewing potions."
It was unknown whether Snape didn't want to discourage Ethan too much or really thought he had talent.
Ethan didn't dwell on this issue. No matter the reason, he was now Snape's apprentice. Was the process important?
Snape was satisfied with Ethan's performance but dissatisfied with the look he just gave him, so he decided to increase the difficulty for him.
Then, Ethan looked at Snape with grief and indignation, cursing in his heart:
"Damn! This is unbelievable. I was brewing the potion just fine, but he had to throw in some impurities and ask me what to do about it! How would I know what to do? I was completely stumped!"
The fate of this pot of potion was to be thrown out—Ethan had no idea how to salvage it at all.
Seizing the chance, Snape gave him a thorough dressing-down, feeling much better. That smug look Ethan had thrown at him earlier had been avenged.
After feeling suitably refreshed, Snape taught him a spell bearing his name—Snape's Separation Charm.
The function of this spell was to allow the potioneer, under their own control, to separate out the impurities accidentally added to the potion to the greatest extent possible, so the potion could be salvaged.
When Ethan heard this name, he stared at Snape's impassive face in shock. "Professor, did you invent this spell? That's incredible!"
Facing Ethan's shock and admiration, Snape felt secretly delighted. He had invented this spell long ago, but because he had never shared it widely, no one had ever given him this kind of emotional feedback. He liked Ethan's reaction this time.
"Practice hard. Next class, I'll check your practice results."
Ethan's shock faded. He nodded, his expression grim.
This spell wasn't intended for simple potions. After all, the materials for these weren't expensive, and the brewing time was short, so re-brewing wasn't a big deal.
But for potions like Polyjuice Potion and Felix Felicis, which took a month or even half a year to brew, if some impurities were accidentally mixed in halfway through and couldn't be dealt with, wouldn't it be heartbreaking?
So although Snape's spell couldn't salvage all brewing mistakes, it was a salvation for such complex potions and could increase the success rate somewhat.
After class, he gathered the medicinal materials Snape had given him, his expression still sour, and left the office.
That evening, he brought stationery to the library and wrote to Hermione about his background.
Hermione had wanted to comfort him, but seeing that he seemed fine, she let it go for now.
That night, Ethan brewed potions in the dormitory, practicing Tergeo.
The potion he brewed was the Cure for Boils, the simplest one they'd learned in their first class.
It didn't take long to brew, but there were four ingredients. Adding an impurity to test the separation was moderately difficult.
"This is too hard!" After failing four times in a row trying to separate the rat spleen juice from the horned slugs, Ethan was starting to feel discouraged.
He dumped the fourth failed potion, cleaned out the cauldron, and tried to figure out what had gone wrong.
The lessons he'd learned from his first three attempts hadn't saved the fourth batch. He needed to analyze what was happening and pinpoint the real issue.
"That shouldn't be. I've been casting the spell as quickly as possible every time. Why did it fail?"
He was baffled, but it was getting late, so he could only head to bed.
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