A Dispiriting Potions Class

Potions class.

Snape's calm, unruffled tone became rather hypnotic after listening to it for too long, but no student dared sleep in Professor Snape's class.

Today's lesson covered the properties and applications of Bezoars. Hermione had her head down, filling her notebook with dense notes, trying to cram every last point of knowledge onto its pages.

Loren had already basically mastered this material. Less than five minutes after class began, his mind had drifted away from the lesson, returning to his conversation with Flamel last night.

"What exactly is this 'redeeming a despairing soul'?" Loren gritted his teeth as he looked at the floating figure.

He hated people who spoke in riddles. Nicol had slipped away right after dropping his cryptic words, but Flamel could not possibly escape this time.

Flamel spread his hands, looking helpless. "I'm sorry, Loren. Nicol didn't leave me any memories concerning this. You'll have to explore it yourself..."

Back in Potions class, Loren muttered to himself inwardly.

Redeeming a despairing soul... it should refer to someone. But who could he save?

Someone who died fighting the Death Eaters later on? It could not be that simple, could it?

Ollivander? Snape? Neither seemed likely.

Surely it could not mean redeeming Voldemort. With his scrawny little arms and legs, if he went up against Voldemort, it was hard to say who would be the despairing one.

Hermione looked at Loren beside her. His hands rested beneath the desk, his eyes unfocused as he stared blankly ahead. One look was enough to tell that he was not listening.

As a good deskmate, she naturally had to promptly encourage her classmate to study properly. She was just about to speak when she remembered something and felt a little embarrassed.

Could it be because of last night? It was all my fault for being too curious about those wizards' manuscripts and keeping Loren talking so late.

The young Witch was adding drama to her own thoughts, while Snape at the front had also noticed Loren's obvious distraction.

Snape stopped speaking and strode behind Loren with a stern expression.

The classroom immediately fell silent, and every gaze shifted toward Loren.

Hermione wanted to reach over and wake her distracted deskmate, but Snape fixed her with a dead-fish stare. The young Witch felt as if she had met the gaze of some kind of snake, watching her without a trace of emotion. Frightened stiff, she did not dare move.

Every class, Snape would single out a Gryffindor student for a round of sarcastic needling, finding an excuse to deduct points. Neville had already been scolded to tears several times.

Whenever they had Potions class, every Gryffindor lion felt at risk.

Except Hermione and Loren. The two of them could answer practically every question, and never made mistakes while brewing potions.

Harry and the other students sighed outwardly, but cheered inwardly: Great! Loren was the unlucky one today. We should be safe.

"Some people happen to accomplish a few things, then become smug and self-important."

Snape was referring to the matter of Peter Pettigrew, but the case involved too many people and too much time had passed. Some procedures still had not been completed, so it had not been made public.

Only the people in Loren's dormitory knew about it. Under Loren's reminder—threat—given in Dumbledore's name, they had not told anyone else.

The students all thought Snape was referring to Loren and Hermione's flawless classroom performance, and how they had never been caught making mistakes.

"But in Potions class, you will follow my rules!"

Snape raised a hand and adjusted his sleeve. Then, with a smack, he gave the back of Loren's head a hard whack.

"Mr. Morgan, answer my question!"

Loren, at the center of the storm, was startled by the sudden blow to the back of his head. It did not hurt much, and the old hand did not panic in the slightest.

"If your friend Harry were poisoned, and there were no prepared antidotes at hand, what should you do?"

Harry, seated in the front row, felt utterly innocent. Thanks a lot. Did he really have to be dragged into this too?

"I think we should ask the professors for help, Professor Snape."

Hermione's vision went dark. She wanted to grab Loren by the collar and yell, What are you doing? This is Potions class!

Loren was quite pleased with himself. Tsk, tsk. A perfect answer.

If a classmate was poisoned, naturally the first thing to do was report it to a teacher. And if the victim was Harry, reporting it to Dumbledore immediately was definitely the best choice.

Snape's face darkened even further. "There are no professors. Handle it yourself!"

Hermione was certain Loren had not been listening. In what she thought was a very quiet voice, she prompted him from beside him, "Bezoar, Bezoar."

Loren sighed inwardly. Silly Witch.

"Place a Bezoar in the throat. Bezoars have excellent antidotal effects against certain common poisons, but for excessively potent poisons, other ingredients must be added to brew a more powerful antidote."

Without saying another word, Snape returned to the front. "Miss Granger may think she knows everything, but that does not give her the right to disrupt my class."

"Because of this Miss Know-It-All, Gryffindor loses five points."

None of the Gryffindor lions cared about the deduction. Professor Snape always found chances to take points from Gryffindor, so they had long since grown used to it. Besides, Hermione had earned far more points than that.

Hermione felt a little wronged, but she really had made a small move. Loren clearly knew the answer, and she had tried to be clever. In the end, she could only blame herself.

This outcome clearly did not make Hermione feel any better. The more she thought about it, the more aggrieved she felt.

By the time class ended, Loren could hear a distinct nasal quality in her voice.

"Loren Morgan, come see me after dinner." Snape recalled his conversation with Dumbledore and felt a little irritated.

Dumbledore was also someone who spoke in riddles. They had talked for most of the day, and Dumbledore had gone on and on about love and family. Only his final sentence mattered: "Loren needs your help. For this Old Man's sake, help him."

If Loren had known what Snape was thinking, he would certainly have agreed. People got fond of this sort of thing once they got older.

Loren and the others accompanied Hermione through the corridor. Everyone could tell that Hermione was in a bad mood.

Harry could not hold back any longer. He had been singled out more than anyone, so he felt entitled to speak. "Hermione, don't take it too seriously. Snape always finds a reason to deduct points. You were just unlucky this time."

Loren was actually wondering how much Dumbledore had told Snape, but there was obviously something more important to deal with right now. "Exactly. You've earned enough points for him to deduct several times over."

Neville said, "I thought Loren would be the unlucky one this time."

Ron said indignantly, "If you ask me, Dumbledore should ban that old Bat from deducting Gryffindor points."

Their attitude was simple: points got deducted. So what? Perfectly normal.

The young Witch clearly had no intention of going along with this lot. Sniffling, she said, "I need to add another three inches to my Transfiguration Class homework. Hopefully Professor McGonagall will give me some extra points." With that, she hurried off toward the Library.

Ron stared at her retreating back and muttered, "Didn't Professor McGonagall only ask for three inches?"

Loren clicked his tongue. This was what it meant to be a grinder!