Blessing Potion [Comprehensive British and American]

On January [-], the weather was fine.

If you have an almanac handy, you will find that everything is right for you.

At 9:00, there was St. Mungo's outpatient clinic for magic injuries. The white fox boy appeared in the Hogwarts kitchen at 6:[-], next to the elf Doudou.

Doudou held a long list of Muggle stationery in her hand, on which Ms. Lin Jiu wrote in detail the steps of making longevity noodles and noodle soup.

The little elf chanted: "Pour the high-gluten flour into a basin, add salt and mix well, add water to make a dough, and harden and soften."

A pinch of white flour was still sticking to the tip of Cyril's nose. He raised his head, if it wasn't for the conditions (the hands were full of flour), he wanted to scratch his ears and cheeks, so he had no choice but to rub the tip of his nose with the back of his hand and asked in a low voice: "What do you mean by hard and soft?"

Doudou was stunned, her eyes were wide open, and then tears began to accumulate in her eyes: "This is Chinese... Doudou just started learning Chinese from Biscuit, and she hasn't learned it yet... Doudou is really a poor little girl." Elf, I can't help you..."

Cyril immediately begged for mercy and comforted him: "Don't, it's not your fault. It's not your fault. Your Chinese has improved rapidly. You see, I can understand Chinese but I don't understand it. Let's guess together...it should be Do you knead the hard dough first and then add water to make it soft? Let’s try this way... Anyway, there is enough time..."

Xi Ruier kneaded against a basin of flour, and Doudou was beside him controlling the amount of water added.

After 10 minutes, Cyril looked at the soft dough in his hand and felt that he had talent.

"What's next?"

"30 minutes." Doudou replied obediently.

Cyril made a toothache expression and complained: "30 minutes is too long, don't you have any tools?"

Doudou blinked, as if suddenly remembering something, she took out a small wooden basin with a lid from the long cabinet below, and held it in front of Cyril like a treasure.

"Yes! Put the dough in and press this button to start."

Cyril looked at the magic lines on it, and was secretly dumbfounded.

"This looks a bit dated. Antique!"

The elf nodded, and said in a low voice: "Doudou was born with this pot, and the senior said it might have been left by the founder... and it is very likely that it is the honorable Lord Hufflepuff. The senior said, Hufflepuff Your Excellency Patch used to like to make all kinds of desserts for everyone. The oven we use now was also improved by Your Excellency Hufflepuff."

"I see."

Cyril nodded, agreed, and pressed start.

After 1 minute, the basin, which did not seem to have changed in any way, opened the lid by itself, and a mass of dough that had changed in size and color was presented in front of everyone.

Doudou looked very happy, continued to look at the list in his hand, and read: "The next step is to put the processed dough on the chopping board, and knead it into long strips of uniform thickness, which can be slightly thinner...the plate is oiled in advance. on the plate."

Cyril wrinkled her nose sternly and followed the instructions.

"The next step is to cook it in the pot. You made the bone broth you prepared earlier."

"Excellent, let's go straight down. I'll see the soup... By the way, is Severus up?"

Cyril gave Doudou a large bag of angelica, cinnamon, cloves and wild mushrooms a day in advance, and let them stew in the bone broth.

Doudou disappeared for a second, then quickly appeared again, and cheerfully replied: "Professor Snape is washing up, the time is just right!"

Boil a long piece of noodles, put it in a bowl, add two spoons of soup, two hot vegetables and a poached egg, it looks clear and simple.Seeing the results, Cyril was so proud that she wanted to cock her tail.

When Snape, who had washed and dressed, was sitting at the dining table, flipping through the newspaper and calling Doudou, it was Cyril who appeared.

The white fox boy was still wearing an extremely formal dark Muggle chef's uniform, the style imitating the chef's uniform he saw when he had dinner with Regulus last time.

A blue-and-white bone china bowl was covered with an exquisite small lid. Through the light in the bowl, you could see the soup swaying slightly left and right with the movement of the boy's arms. The aroma penetrated straight into the person's nostrils. Bending slightly, he used his wand to place the small bowl on the tray in front of the wizard.

Made a "please" gesture.

"Please enjoy your birthday special, longevity noodles. Mr. Shouxing."

After the white fox boy finished speaking, the tray in his hand disappeared, and then he did a very unprofessional chef's action——bent down again, kissed the wizard's face, and whispered: "Happy birthday, Sev Les."

Snape had already put down the newspaper in hand when Cyril appeared, and watched his little troll tossing about silently.When the little troll was about to leave after chirping his cheeks, the wizard stretched out his hand with deep eyes, supported Cyril's chin, kissed his pink lips, and stretched out his thumb to wipe the flour on the tip of the boy's nose. Easily erased.

"You made the noodles?" The wizard's voice was as soft as ever.

Cyril blinked and wrinkled her nose arrogantly: "Yes, I made it myself, so you have to eat it up! No drop of soup is left."

There was no special expression on the wizard's face, but he carefully opened the lid of the small bowl in front of him. The noodles in the bowl were at just the right temperature, and were full of color, fragrance and taste.

"Yes and...thank you."

The British wizard, who is not used to eating noodles early in the morning, had a delicious breakfast on his 31st birthday morning.

"Can I take some of your time in the evening and invite you to dinner with me? My dear companion."

Cyril leaned on her face with her hands, and sat across the dining table with a smile, watching the wizard eat noodles.

Snape raised his eyebrows irresistibly, neither refusing nor agreeing.

Cyril understood that the wizard had acquiesced, and happily shook his legs.

"I'll give you the address, you just go there after class. Just wear wizard robes."

"Ah."

……

The outpatient clinic of the Department of Magical Injury Medicine is not too busy today, and Cyril only received 6 patients in the morning.

One is a little boy who accidentally took a magic kitchen cleaner, and the other three are adults who inhaled an unknown magic gas.

The Daily Prophet at hand has resumed normal, painless "peace reports"—where a new magic factory was opened, and the minister went to cut the ribbon; the price of dragon livers has risen this month, and some experts predict several common The price of medicines will increase accordingly.

After the fugitives from Askaban escaped from prison, they spent a few days trembling and fearful, but the chaos and danger they imagined did not come, and the wizards who had been accustomed to living in peace turned into molluscs shrunk in their shells, paralyzed. Nothing happened to me, I should eat and drink as usual.

Cyril prescribed a potion for the patient with impaired respiratory tract, handed over the medicine list to the patient, and asked them to pick it up by themselves.Then he glanced at the appointment card, and visually estimated that there was half an hour of rest time.

The teenager who was about to stand up and make a cup of coffee met Lucy who was wandering not far from the corridor at the door of the outpatient office [Guide 173].

The white fox boy raised his eyebrows. He hadn't seen this "former colleague" for a long time after he was transferred from the R&D laboratory.

Lucy's black hair looks a little shorter...probably.He has also lost weight, his previously healthy wheat-colored, apple-muscled face has visibly shrunk, bags under his eyes are heavy, lips are tight, and he looks preoccupied.

Cyril frowned, the movement of him opening the door was not small, even this did not get the attention of the American girl.He leaned against the door frame, still holding an empty coffee cup in his hand, so he had to take the initiative to say hello: "Hi, Lucy."

Lucy seemed to wake up suddenly, and suddenly looked up: "Good morning, Cyril."

"You don't look very well, do you want to take a look?"

Cyril turned sideways into the room, ready to drink coffee later.

There was a tangled, painful, suspicious and fragile look in Lucy's eyes, and she finally nodded.

Cyril walked sideways back to the outpatient office, and Lucy followed slowly.

This carefree American girl completely lost her previous carefree and happy appearance. She glanced back at the identical corridor suspiciously, and carefully sat opposite Cyril, her back stiffened.

As if he didn't see the abnormality of the girl, Xi Ruier took out a new medical record and asked routinely: "Age, height and weight."

Lucy replied hesitantly: "23, 1.6 meters seven, weight...I haven't weighed recently."

Cyril didn't delve into it, and continued to ask: "Did you sleep well?"

Lucy's face became more tangled: "...not very good. I often have nightmares, even if I don't have dreams, I am very tired in the morning..."

Cyril nodded to express her understanding, and asked with a normal face: "Are there any other symptoms?"

Lucy swallowed her saliva, and licked her chapped, light-colored lips—this was absolutely impossible to happen in the laboratory before, and Lucy at that time wished she could change a different color of lipstick every day , The bag is full of cosmetics, it's very stinky.

"...not for the time being. I hope you can prescribe me some... medicine to help me sleep. It doesn't need to be too strong...just adjust it slowly."

Cyril raised his head, there was no extra emotion in his gray-green eyes, but he saw Lucy's sharp edge, feeling like he was sitting on pins and needles.

Half a minute later, the doctor with gray-green eyes said softly, "Okay. Here is the medicine list, go get it."

As he spoke, he reached out and handed the girl a written medicine list.

Lucy reached out to take it, but Cyril didn't let go. The two were holding the same piece of paper, one sitting and the other standing.

"Take care of yourself. And...if you need help, you can come to me."

The American girl flinched, her fingers were covered with mottled and faded nail polish, she clenched her hands, took the medicine list, and nodded.

At this moment, the sound of wings flapping suddenly came from the window behind Cyril, and an owl appeared with a letter tied to its foot.

Both Lucy and Sister Cyril were taken aback. Taking advantage of Cyril's turning around, the American girl quickly put away the medicine pick-up list, and said goodbye in a hurry: "Then I'll go back first, thank you, Siri you."

As he spoke, he hurriedly left the office without waiting for Cyril's reaction.

Cyril squinted his eyes and looked at the back of his "former colleague" who left in a hurry, and then took the letter from the owl's feet.

The letter is from Senior Sister Wendy.

In the letter, she first briefly mentioned the recent situation of the Ministry of Magic (trying to create the illusion of peace and prosperity); then told him that "someone" might come to him this afternoon to conduct a short interview with Snape, mainly about Snape Dean started a discussion on a recent potion paper; and secretly revealed that Dean Snape's paper was extremely reversed, and he was likely to win a prize; finally reminded him that the person who came to interview them is now "she Own people", so don't worry.

In the end, Wendy strongly condemned him to fall in love secretly in the letter (although the explosive content can make up for her being deceived and hurt her heart), and by the way, gossip asked him when he and Snape would be open, engaged, and married .At that time, she would not mind "using power for personal gain" to arrange a good page for them, praising their epic love story.

Cyril twitched the corners of her mouth, imagined that her professor in the newspaper was furious and his face was like the bottom of a pot, and then wrote a short letter to express his gratitude to Wendy.

Sure enough, at lunch time, Xi Ruier received another letter that looked much more "gorgeous". The envelope was sprinkled with strong perfume and a few low-quality rhinestones were stuck on it. The emerald green ink wrote: "Si Rui Mr. R. McLean himself"

Signed: Rita Skeeter