Potions Class Clashes with Snape

Over the next few days, Charlie experienced various courses at Hogwarts one after another.

In Charms Class, the sight of Professor Flitwick teaching while standing on a stack of books made Charlie unable to suppress a smile.

This diminutive professor with goblin ancestry was immensely knowledgeable and passionate about teaching.

The first time he called Harry's name, he got so excited he nearly tumbled off the stack of books.

"Mr. Potter!"

Professor Flitwick squeaked, his voice trembling with excitement.

"It's an honor, a true honor!"

The Herbology teacher was Hufflepuff's head, Professor Sprout.

She was a plump witch, always dressed in patched-up clothes with dirt perpetually under her nails.

But she was extremely kind to students, even those who were utterly clueless about Herbology, showing them endless patience.

Because Charlie insisted on roaming the castle at night with the Weasley twins, he was always drowsy during daytime classes.

Professor Flitwick would directly tap his desk with his wand and angrily deduct points from Hufflepuff.

"Mr. White, this is already the second time this week you've slept in my class! Hufflepuff loses five points!"

But when Charlie woke up and demonstrated a perfect charm, Professor Flitwick would excitedly add the points back.

"Excellent, a perfect Levitation Charm! Hufflepuff gains five points!"

Professor Sprout, on the other hand, took a gentler approach.

Whenever Charlie fell asleep in her class, she would quietly walk over to him, rubbing his head with her rough but warm hands until he woke up.

"Mr. White, I know you're tired, but the Mandrake's cries won't get any quieter just because you're asleep."

She always said this softly, without a hint of reproach.

This made Charlie feel too embarrassed to sleep in her class anymore.

Time quickly arrived at Friday.

The morning had only one Potions class, held jointly with Gryffindor. (Fan adaptation)

Last night, Charlie had again explored the castle with the Weasley brothers until the wee hours, so much so that as soon as he reached the classroom in the morning, he slumped onto the desk and fell asleep.

Ernie and Justin sat on either side of Charlie, already accustomed to this behavior of his.

"How do you think Professor Snape will deal with Charlie?" Justin whispered to Ernie.

"No idea, but it definitely won't be as gentle as Professor Sprout." Ernie glanced worriedly at the sleeping Charlie.

The classroom door suddenly burst open, and a man with greasy hair strode in, his black robes billowing behind him like a giant bat.

The classroom instantly fell silent, and all the students held their breath.

As soon as Snape entered the classroom, his eyes locked onto Harry.

Walking toward the podium, he spoke in a flat, cold voice, barely above a murmur.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."

Harry, feeling the intense stare, listened to his voice and broke out in goosebumps.

At the same time, he had an uneasy feeling that this professor seemed particularly fixated on him.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving here. Many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..."

Just as Snape was about to call Harry's name, his peripheral vision caught something, and his voice cut off abruptly.

All the students followed his gaze and saw Charlie slumped over his desk, fast asleep.

The temperature in the classroom seemed to drop several degrees.

"It appears," Snape's voice grew even lower, carrying a dangerous edge.

"that someone among us believes they have already surpassed Potions and need not listen to the lesson."

No one dared to make a sound.

Ernie gently nudged Charlie, but he only grunted and continued sleeping.

Snape's face turned ashen. He grabbed the blackboard eraser from the podium and hurled it at Charlie.

The eraser struck Charlie's head with precision.

Charlie jolted awake, lifting his head groggily to find the entire class staring at him, while Professor Snape's gaze could have killed.

"Tell me your name!"

"Charlie White."

"Mr. White." Snape said coldly.

"It seems my class is far too boring for you, so much so that you'd rather use it to catch up on sleep."

Charlie rubbed his eyes, realizing he was in the wrong.

Falling asleep in class was one thing, but lying flat on the desk was practically disrespecting the teacher.

"Sorry, Professor. I stayed up late reviewing last night and accidentally dozed off."

Snape narrowed his eyes, a cold smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Reviewing? I'd say you were roaming the castle."

Charlie's heart skipped a beat.

How did this guy know? Had he seen him with the Weasley Twins last night?

"Since you have so much energy for nighttime wandering, you must be quite proficient in Potions as well." Snape drawled, each word dripping with biting cold.

"So, Mr. White, tell me, what do you get when you mix powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?"

Charlie froze. Wormwood? Wasn't that for curing colds? Better not guess randomly—playing it safe would keep him from digging a deeper hole.

"I don't know, Professor."

Hermione immediately shot her hand up, nearly leaping out of her seat.

Snape completely ignored Hermione, a sneer tugging at his lips.

"Tsk, tsk. It seems your troll brain doesn't match your reputation. I hear you excel in Transfiguration, yet in my class, you know nothing."

Some students in the classroom snickered.

"I'll give you one more chance." Snape continued.

"Tell me, what's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione's hand shot even higher, almost brushing the ceiling.

Ernie whispered something on the side, but his voice was too soft for Charlie to catch.

Snape shot Ernie a cold glare, and the latter immediately shut his mouth.

Charlie frowned. This was clearly a setup.

"I don't know, Professor."

"What a pity."

"Since your brain is completely empty, you should pay attention in class, you idiot."

The students laughed even louder.

"One last question, Mr. White." Snape's eyes glinted with malice.

"Where can a bezoar be found?"

Charlie understood completely now.

Snape was just looking for a fight. He'd only dozed off before class, apologized when he walked in, and the man still wouldn't let it go.

If that was the case, why bother humoring him?

"Professor," Charlie replied coldly, "in a pile of crap."

Because of the phrasing, the answer came off as highly ambiguous.

The classroom erupted in laughter.

Snape's face turned ashen in an instant.

"Silence!"

He roared, and the room fell dead quiet.

"Utterly idiotic!" Snape gritted out through his teeth.

"Powdered root of asphodel mixed with an infusion of wormwood creates the Draught of Living Death, a powerfully potent sleeping potion. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, both being aconite. As for bezoar, it's taken from a goat's stomach."

"Drop that smug attitude of yours—this isn't your Gryffindor common room."

Clearly, he'd mistaken Charlie for a Gryffindor.

Charlie was fuming.

He admitted sleeping in class was wrong, but even a clay figurine had some temper.

If he'd made a mistake, call it out; if punishment was due, he'd take it all. But deliberately making things hard for him over something else—what was that about?

"Professor," Charlie met Snape's eyes, his voice clear and steady.

"Powdered root of asphodel and wormwood can be mixed with different ingredients to make all sorts of potions. How was I supposed to know which one you meant?"

"There are so many types of aconite—do you expect a student on their first day to distinguish every single one?"

"And if a goat's stomach isn't full of shit, is it filled with your brain?"

The moment those words left his mouth, the entire classroom plunged into dead silence.

Hermione's jaw dropped, her face a mask of disbelief.

Harry stared at Charlie, wide-eyed, a glint of admiration shining in his gaze—the guy was an absolute warrior.

Snape's face shifted from ashen to pale, then to a purplish red.

"Gryffindor loses three hundred points!"

Snape finally bellowed, his voice loud enough to nearly shatter the classroom windows.