Potions Class Was This Terrifying?

Andrew sincerely hoped his roommate could untangle the hidden complexities of Magical History—preferably becoming an expert before graduation, so that whenever Andrew came asking out of curiosity, Hughes could think for a few minutes and provide information on periods when ancient magic had been active and which wizards were roughly worth suspecting.

The field naturally had one fewer career path than the others: Hogwarts's governors would never consider hiring another Magical History professor alongside Professor Binns.

Whether it was because of Harry Potter or not, nearly every subject for their year had brought in its best professor as an instructor. In that respect, the entire year had benefited from Harry Potter's presence.

Magical History, a subject with one and only one professor, was the exception to that rule.

While making up a simple lie for Hughes, the two arrived at the library and had to end their fairly pleasant conversation. They then borrowed the books they needed—Hughes took out some Magical History material, while Andrew borrowed a reference book for something he had not understood.

After finding an empty table to meet up at, they each immersed themselves in their own worlds.

The next day, Andrew climbed out of bed rubbing his eyes. Thanks to the reference book he had read yesterday, he had finally figured out what it meant to keep an object whole when it could be separated during Transfiguration.

But he had only figured it out. What came next required extensive practice, and despite trying until bedtime the previous night, he had not succeeded once.

Though he wanted to try again that morning, it was clearly impossible. Their first class today was Potions.

As the older students in the common room put it, if you did not want to endure relentless cold hostility for at least the next five years, then try not to act too stupid in class.

And if you thought life was not challenging enough, then try provoking the head of Slytherin.

One powerful fact demonstrated just how little that Head of House bothered to hide his ways—under his favoritism, Slytherin had successfully won the House Cup for six whole years.

"But I saw some comments somewhere saying Professor Snape's reputation was pretty decent."

During an evening discussion in the common room, Andrew had asked that question in a slightly roundabout way based on his vague impressions, and it had sparked a celebration throughout the entire room.

"Hahahaha..."

"That's an amazing joke!"

"That absolutely belongs on the front page of the Daily Prophet!"

"A new classic to rival Dumbledore's start-of-term feast joke! (What, you missed it? What a pity...)"

Through the older students' extremely sincere explanation, Andrew finally understood the Potions professor's record—whenever he felt like it, he could deduct points from the other Houses, just as he could award points to his own House for any trivial excuse.

That alone would have been one thing, but the Potions professor also particularly enjoyed verbally attacking students. He could always find the worst-performing student in all sorts of ways, then make an example of them to frighten the rest.

But in terms of ability, the Potions professor was among the strongest. He had real skill, and he genuinely taught. Compared with the occasionally competent Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and Magical History lessons read straight from the textbook, Potions was still worth putting real effort into.

"And he's a little better to us. As long as you don't do anything stupid, he won't deliberately pick on you. Gryffindor has it worse—every year, that professor picks a victim from Gryffindor..."

Hiss...

That completely shattered Andrew's impression of the man.

But Andrew was the sort of person who took advice, especially in matters like this.

So he and his roommates headed early for the Potions classroom in the dungeons.

That was the right call. They found seats toward the back, and the professor definitely did not look like someone to be trifled with—he started taking attendance in the very first lesson...

Everyone seemed to have received a very thorough warning, since no one dared skip class.

But it was useless—a Hufflepuff lost a point for having untidy clothes.

"You are here to learn the precise science and exact art of potion-making. I find it difficult to believe that someone incapable of neatly arranging himself can take potions seriously.

"My class does not particularly welcome idiots. While I do not expect every one of you to grasp the charm of potions, I hope there will be fewer fools and morons—though that wish is never fulfilled."

He suddenly turned to look at a student who was about to open their book.

"Ravenclaw loses one point—this is not the time to pick up your quill!"

The temperature in the classroom seemed to drop several degrees.

"You will never truly understand the subtle magic of liquids that flow through people's veins, bewitch the mind, and cloud the will..."

Why does that sound less like legal work and more like something shady...?

Andrew had been distracted, but he forced himself to stop in time. Fortunately, he caught himself quickly enough and did not lose any points.

Perhaps because he was used to selecting victims from Gryffindor, Professor Snape did not single out any Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff students for individual attacks. But during their first Potions test, everyone was criticized in one way or another—sometimes with a point deduction mixed in. It was only one point at a time, but the sheer frequency added up.

Andrew did not escape either. Though he had tried hard to follow the lab rules, the way he crushed the dried venomous snake fangs still earned a severe rebuke.

"What I need are crushed snake fangs, not shards of bone foolishly smashed apart by someone—Ravenclaw loses one point."

Though the criticism was harsh, Andrew noticed the difference when he processed the snake fangs again.

Potions were not simple chemistry experiments. The ingredients themselves were far too magical...

The powdered snake fangs he had ground up glittered with tiny points of light, while the ones he had smashed earlier had lost their luster over such a slight difference.

Even after Andrew ground them again, he still could not fix the problem—because of the different method of processing, the materials had become two entirely different things.

That was just absurd...

Andrew complained inwardly as he followed the steps strictly, but the result still failed to reach the ideal state—the snake fangs he had processed a second time had been left out too long during testing, so their effect was insufficient...

Without question, another sarcastic remark followed, though no points were deducted.

Perhaps it was because too many had already been taken. By then, Andrew understood why everyone said this professor had won the House Cup through his own efforts. When it came to points, he really deducted them.

If our two Houses have it this bad... then Gryffindor must be... I heard that professor keeps piling on the pressure too... Hiss...

When he left the Potions classroom, breathed in fresh air, and praised it for the privilege, Andrew remembered that issue...

Great. He finally understood why Professor Snape had such a reputation.