Professor Tom Riddle

However, just as Sean was muttering "Servant, come to me," he remembered a serious question, and what happened next in the classroom confirmed his thoughts.

His Potions talent was only twofold: he survived by repeatedly memorizing the contents of books and receiving occasional help from Hermione. Harry, on the other hand, was a true Potions genius.

Halfway through the course, Snape did find fault with Harry quite a bit, but it was mostly minor things like, "Potter, don't let me see you playing with that silver knife again," while he himself fared much worse...

"Wallerup —sir, half the time has passed. Can you tell me, what should have been a pale blue potion in your possession—" Snape lifted his gloomy eyes from the Cauldron, "Is this a peppermint candy that Troll pulled out of the pot?"

"I don't know either, Professor," Sean could only answer honestly.

He followed the textbook steps exactly, but the Potions he got was never quite right.

Snape straightened up and said sarcastically, "Obviously, if you had known, you wouldn't have made such a thing."

He walked over to the other students and said, "Wallerup, your assignment for this class is five inches longer than everyone else's."

"Okay, Professor," Sean replied sullenly.

While Snape was picking at the Gryffindor thorns again, Hermione, stirring her food, muttered a complaint, "Sean, Professor Snape is really targeting you."

Sean glanced enviously at the dark blue liquid in Hermione 'Cauldron, which was slowly fading, and then said helplessly, "Maybe... maybe it's because I'm handsome?"

"That's no excuse... He's deliberately targeting you. Professor Slughorn doesn't usually do this," Hermione said, dissatisfied.

"Who knows..." Sean raised an eyebrow.

He now deeply misses the days when he was treated like a nobody in Slughorn's classes.

The morning Potions finally ended, and Sean still failed to obtain the "clear turquoise liquid" described in the textbook. Hermione's Cauldron was basically finished, except that the Potions was not clear enough, but Snape only glanced at it casually and walked past.

Inside Harry's Cauldron, the Potions was as clear and green as his eyes, and the extinguished embers at the bottom of the Cauldron were like the resentment hidden in Harry's eyes.

During the class, Snape unleashed most of his firepower on Harry and Sean.

The Potions finally came to an end after Snape left behind a twelve-inch-long assignment.

On the way to the Great Hall, Harry, Neville, and Ron squeezed through the crowd.

"Dude..." Harry only said this one sentence, Sean immediately felt the same way about him.

"Sigh..." The two sighed in unison, put their arms around each other's shoulders, and walked toward the Great Hall.

Harry kept talking the whole way.

"This is the first time I haven't gotten any extra points in Potions, and Snape is being way too nosy. He even criticizes the way I hold my knife," he said, disgruntled.

"Well, maybe he's just stricter with students like you who are more outstanding," Sean chuckled dryly.

Snape's attitude is predictable. Harry, now, is almost a carbon copy of James, except for his eyes and Potions talent. Or rather, he is friendlier and more mature than James was back then. Similarly, Harry is probably more popular than James was back then.

But his cynical and playful attitude was exactly like his father's, and also showed a lot of Sirius's traits.

The group denounced Snape the whole way, then arrived at the Great Hall. Before parting, Harry patted his chest and said he would teach Sean about Potions in the future, to which Sean naturally agreed with a smile.

However, if I learned some of Harry's unique tricks, wouldn't Snape target Snape even more severely...?

During the meal, Sean saw Dumbledore and Riddle talking again, but the headmaster seemed a little tired and less enthusiastic than yesterday.

Tom Riddle, however, remained elegant, occasionally exchanging a few words with the professors beside him.

Sean buried his head and continued eating his steak. Since Dumbledore had said everything was alright, he shouldn't think about it anymore.

The afternoon class will be on magic attack and defense; it's really important to learn as much as possible.

After a short lunch break, Sean finally began Tom Riddle's first lesson.

When they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Riddle was already standing by the podium.

He leaned against the edge of the podium, and only stood up straight with a smile after everyone had entered the classroom.

"Alright, my children, welcome to my classroom." He didn't call out names, and after a brief opening remark, he began pacing around the classroom.

"Before this, most of you received the course, um, Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'd like to ask you a question first."

He stopped and looked at the Hogwarts students, while the exchange students from Newmontgard on the side all smiled.

"What is Dark Arts?" Riddle leaned forward slightly, his slender fingers gently grasping a wand that appeared out of nowhere.

Hermione immediately raised her hand.

"This?"

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Come on, tell me, Miss Granger," Riddle said with a smile.

"There is no strict definition of Dark Arts. It is a general term used by wizards to refer to dangerous spells," Hermione bit her lip. "The common characteristics of Dark Arts are that it is extremely powerful and there is no way to undo it. The caster is almost always malicious during the casting process, and the person cursed often suffers great pain and torment, but magical medical methods are difficult to cure them effectively."

Riddle clapped his hands lightly. "Mostly correct." He paused. "If you only look at the textbooks."

The students of Newmontgard burst into laughter, and Hermione's expression darkened.

Riddle moved among the students again. "People often feel awe towards the unknown, but if the consequences of the unknown frighten them, that awe will turn into disgust and rejection."

He fiddled with the wand in his hand for a moment, then gently raised his hand.

From a box on one side of the classroom, a brown, humanoid creature flew into his hand. The little guy was about a foot long and looked like a potato with limbs and a disproportionately large head.

It was a Gnome, and it struggled violently in Riddle's hands, letting out a threatening, shrill cry.

Riddle gave a gentle smile and raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra"