Potions Class Was Terrifying

Andrew sincerely hoped his roommate would unravel the secrets hidden in the tangled history of magic—preferably becoming an expert before graduation, so that whenever Andrew came to him with a question, he could spend a few minutes working out when Ancient Magic had been active and which wizards might be worth looking into.

The trouble was, this field offered one fewer career path than most. The school governors of Hogwarts would never consider hiring another Magical History professor while Professor Binns was around.

Andrew did not know whether it was because Harry Potter was in their year, but nearly every subject had been assigned the best available professor. In that respect, the entire year was benefiting from Harry Potter's presence.

Magical History was the exception: it had one professor, and only one.

As Andrew fed Hughes a few convenient lies, the two reached the library and had to cut their pleasant conversation short. They each borrowed what they needed: Hughes took a Magical History reference book, while Andrew found a guide to a book he had been struggling to understand.

After meeting up at an empty table, they each sank into their own world.

The next day, Andrew rubbed his eyes as he climbed out of bed. Thanks to the reference book he had read the day before, he finally understood what it meant to keep an object whole during Transfiguration even when it could come apart.

Understanding it was all he had managed, though. He still needed a great deal of practice, and despite trying until bedtime, he had not succeeded once.

He wanted to try again that morning, but there was no chance. Their first class was Potions.

As the older students put it in the common room, if you did not want to endure constant cold hostility for at least the next five years, you could try acting a little stupid in class.

And if you thought life lacked challenges, you could try provoking the Slytherin Head of House.

One fact showed just how little that Head of House bothered to hide his bias: with his help, Slytherin had won the House Cup six years in a row.

"But I remember reading comments somewhere saying Professor Snape's reputation wasn't that bad."

Andrew had raised the question during a discussion in the common room the previous night, drawing on his vague recollection. The entire room had erupted.

"Hahahaha..."

"That's a brilliant deadpan joke!"

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

"It's right up there with Dumbledore's joke at the opening feast! What, you missed it? That's a shame..."

After the older students earnestly filled him in, Andrew finally understood the Potions professor's record. Professor Snape could deduct points from the other houses whenever he pleased, just as he could award points to his own house for the flimsiest excuse.

And that was not all. He particularly enjoyed cutting students down with words, finding all manner of ways to single out the worst performer and make an example of them.

Still, when it came to ability, the Potions professor was the best. He knew his subject and genuinely taught it. Compared with Defense Against the Dark Arts, where a competent teacher was a rarity, and Magical History, where the professor read from the textbook, Potions was worth the effort.

"And he's a little easier on us. As long as you don't do anything stupid, he won't go out of his way to pick on you. Gryffindor has it worse. Every year, he picks a victim from their house..."

Andrew drew a sharp breath.

That overturned his entire impression of the man.

Andrew, however, was willing to take advice, especially about something like this.

So he and his roommates set off early for the underground Potions Classroom.

It was the right decision. They found seats a little toward the back, and the professor proved to be every bit as formidable as promised—he took attendance on the very first day.

Apparently the warnings had been passed down thoroughly. Not one student dared skip class.

It did not help. A Hufflepuff lost a point for looking disheveled.

"You are here to learn the precise science and exacting craft of potion-making. I find it hard to believe you can take potions seriously when you cannot even put yourself together properly.

"Fools are not particularly welcome in my class. I do not expect every one of you to appreciate the appeal of potions, but I do hope there will be fewer idiots and halfwits—though that hope is never fulfilled."

He abruptly turned toward a student who was about to open a book.

"Ravenclaw loses one point. It is not time to pick up your quill!"

The classroom seemed to grow colder.

"You will not truly understand the wondrous magic of liquids that course through people's veins, bewitching the senses and clouding the mind..."

Why does that sound less than legal...?

Andrew caught himself drifting and forced his attention back to the lesson. Fortunately, he stopped soon enough to avoid losing points.

Perhaps Professor Snape was too accustomed to choosing his victims from Gryffindor, because he did not single out any Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff students for attack. But during their first Potions exercise, everyone received a different cutting remark, with points deducted here and there. Each deduction was only one point, but they soon added up.

Andrew did not escape. Although he had tried to follow the laboratory rules, the way he crushed his dried snake fangs drew a stern rebuke.

"I asked for powdered snake fangs, not bone fragments that some fool has smashed to pieces. Ravenclaw loses one point."

Harsh as it was, Andrew noticed the difference when he prepared the snake fangs again.

Potions was no simple chemistry experiment. The ingredients themselves were magical...

The properly ground fang powder glittered with tiny points of light. The fangs he had smashed earlier had lost their luster over that seemingly minor difference.

Even grinding them again did not fix it. The method of preparation had turned the material into something else entirely.

That's absurd...

Andrew grumbled to himself and followed every step to the letter, but the result still fell short. He had left the reworked snake fangs sitting a little too long during the check, and they had lost some of their potency...

Naturally, that earned him another sarcastic remark, though no points were deducted.

Perhaps Professor Snape had already taken too many. Andrew now understood why everyone said the man had won the House Cup single-handedly. If there were points to take, he took them.

If he's like this with our two houses... Gryffindor must have it... And they say he keeps piling on the pressure, too...

Andrew thought about that as he left the Potions Classroom, breathed in the fresh air, and silently praised it.

Now he understood why the professor had that reputation.