Potions Class (Part 2)

Professor Snape possessed the same ability as Professor McGonagall. With a mere sweep of his gaze, he could make the young wizards fall silent as cicadas in winter.

But their styles were completely different.

Professor McGonagall was stern and dignified, born of the fact that she treated everyone equally and impartially.

But Snape...

When he stood hidden in the shadows, lightly pinching a piece of parchment between his fingers and expressionlessly read out the name "Harry Potter," his drawn-out tone sounded as though the words had been squeezed out through clenched teeth.

It inevitably made people think of a venomous snake!

Snape took in the frightened expressions of the young wizards below, but he had no intention of concealing himself. His lifeless black eyes remained fixed on Harry.

"Yes, yes, the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding world, a famous figure!"

Anyone could hear the heavy mockery in his words.

Harry's face stiffened. He felt baffled and a little wronged, then he heard Professor Snape call Vaughn's name.

"Oh, Vaughn Weasley, the renowned Potions Prodigy. Another famous figure."

Vaughn rose and bowed. "Thank you for the compliment, Professor."

Harry suddenly envied his composure. Not everyone had the courage to ignore a venomous snake spitting poison.

Snape snorted. To Harry's relief, Snape finally stopped staring at him. He quickly finished reading the roll, then wandered among the students like a ghost.

"...Perhaps many of you do not believe that potions are a branch of magic. I do not expect the foolish substance packed inside your thick skulls to immediately understand the beauty of this subject, or understand how the wondrous potions brewed over a low flame can stir the heart and cloud the will..."

His unhurried voice echoed through the silent basement.

Now distant, now near, until at one moment it suddenly sounded beside Harry's ear, making him jump.

"Harry—Potter! Famous figure, tell me: if I add powdered asphodel root to an infusion of wormwood, what will I get?"

What?

Harry glanced at Ron beside him. Ron wore the same blank expression.

Of course Harry had looked through potions books, but who would memorize every bit of material in an entire book that they had not learned yet?

Oh, except Hermione—her hand was raised high.

Vaughn was trying to press her back into her seat. Behind them, Malfoy and his two lackeys covered their mouths and snickered.

"I don't know, Professor," Harry said stiffly.

Professor Snape's long face nearly hung over his head as he gave a mocking snort. "Don't know... Hmph. It seems fame does not represent everything, Mr. Potter. Very well, let us try again..."

Humiliated, Harry felt his head buzzing. On impulse, he said, "Professor, why don't you ask Hermione? She definitely knows. Or ask Vaughn? He has been brewing potions since he was eight, and he has improved many Recipes. Ron showed me the newspaper that published his Essay. I think his skills are even better!"

After blurting all that out in one breath, Harry felt immensely satisfied.

These past few days, Ron had constantly boasted in his ear about how incredible Vaughn was at potions. Harry thought Snape might not even be as good as Vaughn!

Because of Harry's words, the basement suddenly fell dead silent. Everyone saw Snape's face stiffen.

Snort...

Someone laughed. It was Malfoy and his two lackeys.

That suicidal sound drew Vaughn's and Snape's attention. Two equally cold gazes turned toward them.

Malfoy promptly shut his mouth.

Snape looked toward Vaughn again, his icy expression revealing nothing of what he was thinking. "It seems, Mr. Vaughn Weasley, that you carry considerable weight among your classmates."

Vaughn resumed his smiling manner. "They are merely insignificant achievements, Professor."

"In fact, my main purpose in coming to Hogwarts was to learn potions from you. I should also thank you. When some members of the Extraordinary Potions Masters Association criticized my approach to potions, you published an Essay in my defense."

The young wizards of Gryffindor and Slytherin felt that the deathly silence from moments ago must have frightened them into hallucinating—they had actually seen Professor Snape seem to smile. Still, the atmosphere in the classroom undoubtedly relaxed considerably.

He did not ask any more questions, but before beginning the lesson, Snape mocked Harry once again. "Mr. Potter, I do not need to ask Mr. Vaughn Weasley such a simple question. Do you know why? His fame was earned through his own efforts, while yours—tut, tut... Gryffindor loses two points!"

Harry felt as though his face were on fire.

Vaughn also sighed inwardly. Harry and Snape's tangled feelings were simply a complete mess.

Harry was undoubtedly aggrieved. He had no idea why Snape disliked him. As for Snape... seeing the eyes of the person he loved most on the face of the person he hated most—how painful must that have been?

Outsiders had no place interfering in such a complicated entanglement.

So everyone quickly discovered... Snape had only spared Harry temporarily.

Throughout the lesson, he kept circling Harry's seat and questioning him from time to time.

This made things miserable for the people sitting beside Harry. Not only did they not dare lose focus, but several unlucky students were always caught in the crossfire.

It was even worse during the practical portion at the end of class.

Snape practically wanted to glue his feet in front of Harry's desk. He could find fault with every single movement Harry and the people around him made.

"Longbottom, what exactly is inside that thick skull of yours? Flour and water? Does it turn into mush the moment you move your head?"

"I have heard of your reputation, Finnigan. You can turn any accident into an explosion. But if you dare show even the slightest carelessness in Potions Class, I will make you understand what punishment means!"

Occasionally, he would also walk over to Vaughn's side and watch silently, without uttering a single cutting remark.

Of course, it was not because he favored Slytherin, though that was true. It was because Vaughn's work contained no mistakes whatsoever—although Hermione, who was partnered with him, noticed that his method of handling the Medicinal Materials differed from the one in the textbook.

The practical exercise was to brew a potion for treating boils, a very basic potion.

Vaughn had tried it long ago, but he did not slack off just because it was so basic. Instead, he brewed it with focused seriousness while explaining to Hermione.

"...Potions do not have strictly controlled medicinal properties. They are different from Muggle chemistry. Chemistry emphasizes precise control over the amounts of materials, but with potions, rather than saying we are brewing a medicinal liquid, it would be more accurate to say we are cooking a pot of mysticism, brewing a spell!"

"You must have noticed, right? The Recipes in the textbook are all very vague about the amount of each ingredient. There are no grams or milliliters—usually just a few drops, a few slices, or simply an entire ingredient. Yet in areas Muggles consider unimportant, such as stirring, potions strictly require a certain number of turns!"

"Hermione, you can view the entire process as a ritual—a ritual for summoning mystery and constructing a spell."