Chapter 3: Potions

Professor Slughorn was anything but a flying creature.

Certainly, he was dropping your essays on the table before you, and had his unusual - I was told a favorite - gray tie around his neck, yet I am certain that whales… can't fly.

My master would give him a lecture on the importance of motivation, and the joy of having a fit body.

As for me, I was staring at the cauldron before me.

It… was horrible.

Not only the spells here don't work for me, as my will for cultivation made me incompatible with the magic in this world, but I can't even mix potions.

So… I told myself I will do it like a soup.

A black, stinking soup, was what I have managed to produce the last time, and it almost became a weapon in its own right.

Yet this class was different. I got assigned to create a pair with someone.

Immediately, my eyes drifted left and right, trying to sense what little I could about magic powers, in order to find someone capable.

Oh, I know this one.

Bill Weasley.

We spoke in the train.

"Hey, would you mind being with me?"

"Hey, it's you! Why not. But let's use your book, ok? Mine is worse than second-hand… it stinks and… looks like someone made a habit of eating on it."

"Sure! No problem! I will be doing the ingredients and you just putting them in, ok?"

With this, I am saved.

After the lecture, I went on to tell the professor that working in pairs really helped me to be less nervous, and got to know that it's the usual way it's being done. So there's some hope for me, after all.