The hospital wing had fallen quiet again.
It took a while before the boys finally managed to peel their eyes away from the door where Madam Rosmerta had exited. Slowly, their gazes drifted over to Snape, confusion evident on their faces—as if silently asking what made him so special.
Aiboh hesitated, lips parting to say something—but after a quick glance at Mary's face, he thought better of it and shut his mouth tight.
"Rest up," Snape said, giving Aiboh's leg a firm pat. "We're leaving."
Mary threw one last scathing glare at Aiboh and turned on her heel, storming out of the ward. She walked fast, dragging Pandora with her.
Pandora tried to look back, perhaps to call out to Snape, but Mary's grip on her arm didn't allow her to stop. Their voices drifted down the corridor, a broken stream of frustrated chatter reaching Snape's ears.
"How can you not be angry… the way she looked… I'm telling you—"
"Why would I be angry… she's rather pretty…"
"I don't understand how you don't understand!"
"Neither do I, really…"
Mary stomped in frustration and then abruptly let go of Pandora's arm, storming off on her own.
…
The very next day, Aiboh's "twisted" ankle had made a miraculous recovery.
"Mate," he said in awe as he caught up with Snape in the Transfiguration corridor, "so it was you who blew up half the school, huh?"
He gave a low whistle. "Honestly, I don't know how you pulled that off without getting expelled."
Then his tone shifted to one of mild despair. "Speaking of getting expelled—looks like it's just the two of us left in our dormitory. Bad luck, maybe? Even Avery's stopped showing up."
He sighed dramatically. "Can't say I liked the bloke much, but I do wonder what miserable fate caught him."
Snape narrowed his eyes. There was a hidden barb in Aiboh's words—veiled, but sharp.
"Some people talk too much," he muttered. "That's what makes them unlucky."
"What's really unfair," Aiboh grumbled, his tone turning bitter, "is that Madam Rosmerta invited you to her inn. I mean, what does she see in you that I don't have?"
"Maybe she prefers humans over swamp-footed tree-frogs wrapped in green paste."
Snape darted into the classroom before Aiboh could retort. Professor McGonagall was already at the front, preparing the lesson.
During the Transfiguration lesson, Pandora was all over Aiboh with questions—how on earth had he healed so fast? What miracle cure had he found that even Madam Pomfrey couldn't manage?
Aiboh hemmed and hawed, eventually blaming it on a rare herbal remedy supposedly imported from Castelobruxo by one of his father's old friends.
"Aiboh, Miss Flahos—care to share your conversation with the rest of the class?" McGonagall interrupted sharply.
Then she turned to Aiboh and fired the question: "Mr. Aiboh, please tell us the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."
Aiboh blinked and stammered. "Er… excrement?"
There was a pause.
McGonagall blinked. Her expression twisted into something caught between horror and amusement.
"Merlin's underpants," she muttered. "Do you plan on eating Transfigured waste, Mr. Aiboh? When you graduate, do not tell anyone I taught you."
She shook her head. "No, this won't do—you'll need extra lessons."
"Oh, nooo…" Aiboh moaned miserably.
The class erupted in laughter.
"Ahem. Miss Flahos, do you know?" McGonagall turned to Pandora. "If not, it's alright to say so."
"The first exception is food," Pandora said serenely. "You can't create actual, nourishing food from nothing.
"But fake food is edible. I once tried a pumpkin tart made from air—it was delicious. Doesn't fill you up, but it makes you feel less hungry."
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Thank you, Miss Flahos. Next."
"The second exception is living beings—you can't create life from inanimate matter."
"Correct," McGonagall nodded, pointing to a raven peeking around the edge of a teacup. "This used to be a teapot. Looks lively, doesn't it? But it isn't truly alive."
"The third is magical objects—like Galleons…"
Pandora rattled off the remaining exceptions flawlessly. McGonagall couldn't find fault, though she did give Aiboh a sharp glare.
"Six-thirty this evening. Don't make me cancel my evening tea again."
Snape instinctively ducked behind his Advanced Transfiguration Guide, still haunted by the memory of his last detention.
Later, during dinner, eight long-eared owls swooped dramatically into the Great Hall carrying a single, very large package. They knocked Snape's plate right off the table.
Normally, owls didn't deliver parcels at dusk—but this was a rush delivery. Snape had paid three extra Galleons for it.
All eyes were on him.
"What's in the box?" someone whispered.
Snape ignored the curious stares.
"Reducio," he said quietly, tapping the package.
It shrank to a fifth of its size. He cast a second spell and hauled it onto the bench.
"Pandora, have you done any brewing lately?"
"No. A lot of the supplies are gone."
"Let's check the lab. See what's left."
Once again, they headed to the Room of Requirement.
Pandora's heart sank at the sight of the lab—half-empty shelves, broken vials, scattered ingredients. She began cleaning with slow, heavy hands.
"Hey, Pandora," Snape called, gesturing to the shrunken parcel. "Engorgio. Engorgio.
"Open it."
Inside were dozens of small boxes marked with the Slug & Jiggers Apothecary seal.
"I didn't know what exactly you'd need, so I had them send a little of everything. But you'll have to rebuild the apparatus yourself. I didn't see anything like yours in any shop."
"No," Pandora shook her head, "I can't accept this."
"Take it. You lost your supplies because you helped me."
Still, she hesitated.
"How about this—consider it conditional sponsorship. You share the results of your experiments with me.
"And give me a heads-up next time you're planning something wild.
"That 'I have an idea' moment in the tunnel? That scared the hell out of me…"
"Thank you, Severus."
"No problem."