Potions Class

The first messenger flew out of the Owlery, while the first streak of orange sunlight climbed the spires of Hogwarts Castle.

The corridors grew lively once more,

as a large group of young wizards made their way down the Moving Staircase toward the Dungeon.

"I heard the Potions class teacher is Professor Snape,"

Michael rubbed his sleepy eyes. He had spent half the night studying a Quill and was still yawning now.

"It's insider information. I heard it in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Those older wizards said Professor Snape is the entire Hogwarts..."

He deliberately paused, making Terry crane his neck and lean in to listen.

Even the whispers of the young wizards around them grew quieter.

"He is the professor at Hogwarts who deducts the most House points."

His voice trembled, and combined with the increasingly chilly surroundings, the young wizards' faces seemed much paler.

Amid the deliberately cultivated tension,

they arrived at the Potions classroom.

It was a Dungeon Classroom, several degrees colder than the castle above.

Even during the day, little sunlight reached this place.

It relied entirely on floating candles for illumination.

Glass Bottles lined the walls, each containing a different animal specimen soaked in liquid.

Sean chose a seat not far from those specimens. Turning his head, he could even see bat spleens.

They were an ingredient for magical potions and could be used to make Swelling Solution.

The moment he sat down, a dimpled boy took the seat beside him.

"Sean, I knew you'd come early."

Justin wore a warm smile as he took out his Glass Bottles and arranged them neatly on the desk.

Michael, who had been trying to sit beside Sean, widened his eyes and looked again in disbelief.

"Am I hallucinating? When did he get here?"

He then muttered to himself and casually found another seat.

Soon, all the students had arrived. Perhaps because of the cold environment, or perhaps because of Professor Snape's terrifying reputation, not a single young wizard tried to shout or make noise.

In the silence,

"Bang—"

A tremendous crash came from the Dungeon door. A sallow-faced man with a hooked nose strode into the classroom.

His flowing robes billowed like the wings of a black bat.

In just a few swift, precise, crisp steps, he mounted the platform.

"Listen—"

His voice was cold and low.

"This class does not require you to mindlessly chant spells or wave your wands about...

So I suppose not many of you will understand how to appreciate the subtle science and precise craft of potion-making.

But for those rare few who truly have the inclination,

I will teach you how to bewitch the mind and deceive the senses.

I will teach you how to win fame and forge glory...

There is only one condition! You must not be the kind of idiotic fool I so often encounter!"

His voice was grim and powerful, swiftly silencing the entire room.

"Hannah Abbott! Tell me, how should slugs be handled?"

His sharp gaze swept toward the young witch like an oncoming storm.

Under that stare, the braided young witch's voice trembled.

"Boil them, Professor."

Hannah had clearly read the textbook in advance, even if it was only the content of the first chapter.

Thus, she narrowly escaped disaster.

"Sit down!"

Snape's expression did not improve.

"Sean Green, tell me, how would you handle horned slugs?"

He leaned forward slightly, blocking out the candlelight.

"Boil them longer, around three minutes, Professor."

Sean answered at once.

"Not bad."

Snape swept away immediately.

"Wayne Hopkins! What is a bezoar?"

He loomed over Wayne like a dark cloud. The short-haired young wizard's voice seemed squeezed out.

"I don't know, Professor."

"If that Troll-like brain of yours were still functioning, you would know that a bezoar is a solid substance taken from a goat's stomach and can serve as an antidote to poisons."

Snape's deathly gaze remained fixed on Wayne, and the short-haired young wizard had begun to tremble.

"Sit down! One point from Hufflepuff, because of your classmate Wayne's empty head!"

He swept his gaze across the room. No one dared meet his eyes.

"The rest of you, why aren't you writing that down!"

In the oppressive atmosphere, the young wizards scribbled furiously, as though doing so could help them evade the storm Professor Snape had stirred up.

And Professor Snape's deadly roll call continued.

"Ernie Macmillan!"

He was like a ruthless House-point-deducting machine. By the end of the questioning,

Ravenclaw had lost six points, while Hufflepuff had lost a full twelve.

A thought naturally crossed Sean's mind.

Slytherin's six consecutive championships seemed... inseparable from Professor Snape's efforts.

In the original story, Professor Snape had even memorized every student's name to make deducting House points more convenient.

Professor Snape really was...

What Professor Snape said next made Sean listen intently.

"Listen carefully. If anyone dares alter a potion formula at will, or add or remove steps without authorization—"

Professor Snape swept his gloomy gaze over every face, making sure no one dared lose focus for even a moment.

Then he began teaching them the steps for Scurvy Paste, a simple potion used to treat boils.

The Cauldron before him steamed. Within mere minutes, it bubbled and transformed into a pot of thick, ink green potion.

"I do not expect any of you to succeed quickly. I only hope certain idiots do not create anything dangerous—

What are you waiting for? Work in pairs and begin!"

Justin's face had gone pale. He forced himself to remain calm and began following the steps.

Sean was not much better off. Not because of the oppressive air Professor Snape brought with him, but because he was nervous about his unknown Potions Talent.

"Slugs, dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, Porcupine Quills...

Sean, these are right, aren't they?"

Justin looked at Sean as he arranged the ingredients, asking with lingering fear in his voice. Seeing Sean's calm expression, he relaxed somewhat as well.

"Mm."

Sean nodded, then began processing the ingredients according to the textbook's standards.

"Let's follow the steps. We'll handle the slugs first."

Justin immediately understood and began lighting the Cauldron.

The book said that a Cauldron needed to be preheated.

"Use my Cauldron?"

Justin asked Sean softly.

Sean looked at Justin's silver Cauldron, then nodded.

The quality of a Cauldron would not greatly affect the quality of a potion, but Justin's silver Cauldron was indeed far better than the third-grade brass Cauldron Sean had gritted his teeth and bought.

It could also improve their chances of success, even if only psychologically.

Having a hidden rich kid sitting beside him was pretty nice,

Sean thought.