Luke sat in the Potions classroom. It was dim and chilly, and the specimens of various Magical Creatures and ordinary animals soaking in jars around the room made it feel even less welcoming.
The classroom smelled strange. Fresh air or the scent of medicinal herbs was out of the question.
It was musty, with an indescribable odor mixed in. In short, it did not feel pleasant.
"What's wrong?"
Taylor looked at Luke curiously.
Luke took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'm not good at Potions. Other than memorizing recipes and procedures, I'm not good at anything else."
Taylor looked at Luke's honest yet helpless expression and smiled. Covering her mouth, she tried her best not to laugh out loud.
"It's all right. I'm fairly good at it. If we're put into groups later, I'll help you."
Luke looked at Taylor in surprise, but quickly understood. Of course. It was perfectly normal for children from Wizarding families to have some talent for Potions. Even if they did not possess Snape's exceptional talent, with enough practice, they could still reach an ordinary level.
While Luke and Taylor were chatting, Snape suddenly pushed open the door and swept into the classroom, his bat-wing-like cloak billowing behind him.
"You will not need to wave your wands foolishly in this class, and many of you may not even believe this is magic. I do not expect you to truly understand the beauty of a gently simmering cauldron sending up white steam and waves of fragrance, nor will you truly understand the temple-like power of liquids flowing into people's veins, stirring their hearts and clouding their minds... I can teach you how to improve your reputation, brew glory, and even stop death—but there is one condition. You must not be the sort of stupid