The Old Bat's Approval, Potions Prodigy

At exactly 1:00 PM, the class bell rang on time.

Snape swept into the classroom on the tail of the bell, moving at a brisk, forceful pace, the hem of his black robes billowing behind him like an old bat skimming the ground.

As the strictest professor in the entire school, the new batch of young witches and wizards had already heard rumors about him before class even started. The room fell into absolute silence in an instant.

Tom felt clever about his seat choice.

An ordinary student might think sitting in the front row of the classroom was better, but that wasn't always the case.

The best seats were actually a few rows in from the front, closer to the middle.

Sitting too far forward meant you'd get a face full of spit every day while the professor lectured—especially with an oily-haired guy like Snape.

Spit plus hair oil, mixing together, would spread across your face like butter, making it impossible to focus on studying at all.

"In this class, you won't be foolishly waving your wands around or chanting meaningless incantations." Snape, as soon as he reached the podium, began his opening spiel, building his authority and presence before the students.

"Therefore, I don't expect many of you to truly appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making.

However, for those few... who genuinely have the inclination...

I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses.

I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

Snape paused, then turned his gaze to the one child in the room who wasn't looking at him: "But perhaps, some of you have come to Hogwarts with abilities you think are extraordinary, and enough confidence that you believe you don't need to pay attention in my class."

"Mr. Potter!"

At that moment, everyone's attention shifted to Harry, who was hunched over, scribbling furiously.

Snape glanced from a distance and saw that the boy seemed to have written down his entire opening speech.

?

That was just for show—it wasn't going to be on the exam. What was the point of taking notes on that?

"As our new class's representative, tell me, what do you get when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"What's asphodel and wormwood?" Harry's eyes held a clarity and innocence untouched by knowledge.

"Clearly, fame isn't everything. Since you couldn't answer the question, Slytherin loses—" Snape stopped mid-sentence, suddenly hesitating.

Wait, Harry was a Slytherin. If he deducted points from him, wouldn't that mean deducting from his own house?

What was a teacher supposed to do in this situation?

Awkward...

"Truly a master of biased refereeing," Tom thought to himself.

The reason the rumor about Snape being harsh with deductions spread was entirely because he was ruthless about docking points from other houses, while never touching his own.

To better facilitate his deductions, Snape had memorized not only his own students' names but also those from other houses.

In a way, he really was a conscientious teacher.

"Mr. Riddle!" To break the awkwardness, Snape suddenly shifted his focus to Tom.

Through Snape's eyes, Tom could detect a hint of deep-seated disgust and hatred buried beneath the surface.

"Tell me, what do you get when you add powdered Black Datura root to an infusion of yew wood?"

This was a question that had never appeared in the original story.

"Heh heh~" Draco snickered from the corner.

Even he, an outstanding pureblood, didn't know such a complex question. How could that brute Tom possibly know?

Tom stood up, thought for a moment, then spoke calmly: "Black Datura, like Mandrake, belongs to the Solanaceae family and has strong hallucinogenic effects. Yew wood grows year-round in its natural environment; aside from the outer red aril, it is highly toxic, easily causing cardiac arrest, and yew wood itself has excellent magical conductivity. Combining the two can produce a potent poison—just one drop can make a person unconsciously stop breathing in a hallucination. However, with additional refinement techniques, it can also be processed into anesthetics and medicines for various ailments..."

After saying this, Tom felt that Snape was too underhanded.

First-year students weren't taught how to make poisons—this was already a second-year topic. It was a good thing he had memorized it beforehand.

Clap clap!

Harry, like a straight man in a comedy act, seeing that Snape didn't immediately criticize, knew Tom was right and started applauding on the side.

This left Snape frozen in place for a moment.

He had originally planned to use this out-of-scope question to at least harshly criticize Tom, even if he couldn't deduct points—but he never expected the boy to actually answer it.

"Since you're so capable, why don't you answer Harry's question for him? Tell me, what do you get when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"You get a powerful sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death."

"Very well. You may sit down." Snape conceded defeat.

He hadn't expected two difficult questions in a row to fail to stump him. The boy really left him no opening to exploit.

Though Snape knew many more complex potion formulas, those were upper-year material. If he used those to question Tom, his intent to target him would be far too obvious.

At the same time, as a Potions Master, no matter how much he refused to admit it out loud, he had to acknowledge Tom's skill in his heart.

What an outstanding young wizard. He certainly had considerable talent in potion-making—and he was a Slytherin, too.

Normally, Snape would have found a way to make Tom his prized pupil—unfortunately, his name was Tom Riddle.

[Potions Prodigy +100 progress, Impression Level reached Lv.1, persona activated, Achievement Points +1]

[Persona: Potions Prodigy (New)]

[Impression Level: Lv.1 (Progress: 0/200)]

[Description: You seem born to brew potions; your eyes can see the inner veins of ingredients, and whether understanding or learning potions, you are several times faster than usual.]

Huh?

Tom was startled. Starting from zero, he had instantly gained a brand-new persona.

No need to guess—this must have come from Snape.

But...

How had it added a full 100 progress in one go?

He had only managed to push [Born Dark Lord] by 100 progress in a short time by tricking Dumbledore. Snape, whether in reputation or power, was far inferior to Dumbledore—how could he also rapidly grant Tom 100 progress toward [Potions Prodigy]?

Could it be...

Authority.

Snape was an authoritative professor in the field of potions. When it came to anything potion-related, even Dumbledore had to defer to him.

Thus, for any persona tied to potions, the boost Snape provided was far greater than what others could give.

Good. He had grasped another rule of the panel.

"Hm? Why haven't you sat down?"

Snape turned back. He had already finished his questioning, yet Tom was still standing.

"Because I'm not done yet, Professor. Regarding your two questions just now, I think I can add a bit more."

Before Snape could react, Tom continued:

"During the Victorian era, the custom of using flower language to subtly convey emotions was widespread.

Black Datura (Mandragora officinarum) carries the meaning of 'vengeance unto death,' while Yew (Taxus baccata) is rumored to have been the wand wood of the mysterious man.

Asphodel's flower language is 'my regrets follow you into the grave,' and Wormwood holds meanings of bitterness and regret.

From the effects of the potions produced by these two recipes, we can deduce one conclusion: the question-setter intended to subtly express hatred toward the mysterious man through flower language—perhaps because the mysterious man once killed someone as noble as an asphodel, leaving the question-setter with deep regret and remorse.

And asphodel can also be called lily. Perhaps the noble person killed by the mysterious man was named Lily."