"Mr. Makiya, are you aware that because of these little toys you've been peddling, over thirty students have been admitted to the hospital wing? Madam Pomfrey is quite eager to meet you, the 'genius' of Ravenclaw."
Snape emphasized the word 'genius' with heavy, biting sarcasm.
Madam Pomfrey, who managed the hospital wing, was a highly experienced and capable healer. Her deep understanding of both magical and non-magical injuries allowed her to diagnose conditions instantly and provide effective treatment.
Makiya frowned. As Snape approached, a pungent stench wafted over—a mix of excessive sebum and the metabolic byproducts of bacterial overgrowth. In simpler terms, it was the smell of greasy hair.
Normally, Makiya wouldn't comment on someone's scent, unless it reached the level of a biochemical weapon.
This odor was practically an assault on his lungs and throat; even his eyes felt dry and stinging from the fumes.
"Professor Snape, did you just finish mucking out a troll's den? The air in the Headmaster's office is completely ruined!"
Makiya didn't reach for his wand. With a simple wave of his hand, a breeze swept in from the corner, swirling the foul air and venting it out the window.
"Excellent magic!" Dumbledore couldn't help but praise. Wandless and silent casting was a feat most adult wizards struggled to perform with such ease.
To reach this level at such a young age... Dumbledore reflected on his long teaching career and confirmed that Makiya was the most talented young wizard he had ever encountered.
"Thank you for the compliment, Headmaster Dumbledore." Makiya nodded to the old man behind the desk before turning his gaze back to Snape.
"Over thirty people hospitalized because of me? It seems Professor Snape has a talent for sensationalism in addition to Potions. As far as I know, most of those students left within ten minutes. Only four were admitted due to jinxes, which clearly have nothing to do with me."
The bullets from the alchemical firearms caused nothing more than minor impacts and superficial injuries. These were the easiest types of damage to treat, requiring only a bottle of Essence of Dittany or a few 'Episkey' charms.
In the wizarding world, the truly difficult injuries to heal were those caused by powerful hexes, curses, or memory charms.
Snape snorted coldly. "Regardless, your toys directly escalated the conflict. Furthermore, for your blatant disrespect and talking back to a professor, five points from Ravenclaw!"
Makiya nodded nonchalantly. "Sure, sure. I suppose before I arrived, Slytherin and Gryffindor were one big happy family? I'm sure no one ever ended up hung from a tree back then. But as soon as I show up, everything falls apart, right?"
Makiya had a very poor opinion of Snape. Harry often complained about the man's prejudice and malice, and Makiya had experienced it firsthand in class.
If a student made even the slightest mistake, Snape would descend upon them like a bloodhound catching a scent, his voice dripping with mockery, as if the students were supposed to be born masters of potion-making.
His behavior confirmed that this Head of Slytherin was the same loathsome individual depicted in the original stories.
Snape might be a master of Potions, but he was certainly not a good teacher. He openly bullied and insulted students in class, venting his biases without restraint.
In the original records, Snape had forced Neville to test a failed Shrinking Solution on his pet toad, Trevor—knowing the potion would likely kill the creature if it hadn't been brewed correctly.
When Hermione tried to help and saved Trevor, Snape docked five points from her and punished Neville by making him disembowel other frogs.
He had even publicly read a tabloid article by Rita Skeeter that fabricated stories about Hermione, mocking her personal life and pausing for dramatic effect to give the Slytherins plenty of time to laugh, causing the fourteen-year-old girl immense distress.
Snape's face instantly turned cold, and his eyes filled with murderous intent. "What exactly do you mean by 'hung from a tree'?"
During his own school days, Snape had been frequently bullied by Harry's father, James Potter, and his friend Sirius Black. During their O.W.L.s, James and the others had used a spell to hang him upside down from a tree, humiliating him in front of the whole school.
"The libraries of pure-blood families are truly vast." Makiya ignored Snape's death stare and smiled pleasantly. "They always seem to contain interesting stories that others aren't privy to. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Snape?"
He had indeed read about Snape's past in an old diary gifted by a young wizard.
Who in their right mind writes a diary? This one didn't have a single page about the owner's life; it was entirely filled with the embarrassments of others. Snape's incident was a rare piece of gossip, so it was only natural it was recorded.
Snape's muscles tensed, his fists clenched tight, and his breathing became visibly ragged.
"That's enough, Severus," Dumbledore interjected suddenly. "I believe you have a potion simmering. I'd like to speak with Mr. Makiya privately. Could you give an old man some space?"
Snape shot a look at Dumbledore, then stared coldly at Makiya for a moment before forcing words through his teeth. "Mr. Makiya, I look forward to your performance in Potions class."
With that, he swirled his robes and stalked out of the room, his footsteps heavy against the floor.
"Don't get your hopes up, Mr. Snape," Makiya replied politely. "My performance will be just like any other student's—unless you decide to pick a fight. In that case, I can't guarantee that certain 'interesting stories' won't find their way into the students' dormitories."
Snape's footsteps faltered briefly on the stairs before he sped up his exit.
Silence fell over the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore produced a tray of sweets from nowhere and placed it in front of Makiya.
"Care for a sweet? I have Lemon Sherbets, Pear Drops, Licorice Wands, and Fizzing Whizbees." Dumbledore said with a smile. "I particularly recommend the Fizzing Whizbees; they're quite delightful."
"Certainly, thank you, Headmaster." Makiya popped a Lemon Sherbet into his mouth. "A bit of sugar always helps brighten the mood."
"It seems we can be kindred spirits." Dumbledore winked, popping a Fizzing Whizbee into his mouth with an expression of pure bliss.
The levitation effect of the candy didn't seem to work on the old wizard; he remained firmly seated in his chair.
"Truly a remarkable creation, Makiya. Of all the wizards I've met, your talent is the highest." Dumbledore didn't hold back his praise, examining one of the firearms in his hand.
"I've been wanting to recommend you to a very distinguished master of alchemy, but he insists I'm exaggerating—unless I send your work for him to see."
"If I may ask, Headmaster, what is the master of alchemy's name...?" Makiya's heart skipped a beat as he formed a suspicion.
"Nicolas Flamel!"
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