Friday morning.
Ron poked at the sausages on his plate, looking rather unhappy. "We have Potions today, with the Slytherins. Harry, didn't you say Professor Snape doesn't like you?"
"I heard George mention him. He's really petty and always picks on people he doesn't like. You'd better be careful."
Harry nodded without comment.
When they got to the classroom and the lesson began, Snape made no effort to hide his feelings. He laid bare his loathing, even hatred, for Harry.
Snape strode into the room.
The classroom was already gloomy, but his arrival made it feel even more oppressive.
He didn't bother with an opening greeting. He tapped the teacher's desk. "Well, well. Look who's come to my classroom."
"Harry Potter."
"The Chosen One, born a Gryffindor, the legendary savior who drew the Sword of Gryffindor at the Sorting Ceremony, and a student who stirred up trouble the moment he arrived at Hogwarts."
"Tsk."
"Potter, didn't your father teach you to stand when a professor calls your name?"
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I forgot you don't have a father."
A few snickers came from the Slytherin side.
The Gryffindor students looked at Harry with concern. They'd heard the rumors, but seeing it with their own eyes was still hard to believe. Every professor liked Harry—even Quirrell, who barely spoke.
The only exception was Professor Snape, head of Slytherin House, who loathed and targeted him so openly.
Harry stood up. "Thank you for the reminder. My mother has passed away too, so there really wasn't anyone to teach me these things."
The Slytherins' snickering grew louder.
Bang!
Snape slammed his hand down on the desk, gritting his teeth. "Potter! I'm not here to discuss your family! Shut your mouth!"
"And the rest of you. Do you find this funny?"
"Should I carve these things into your troll-sized heads, or perhaps give you all a dose of Forgetfulness Potion so you can have another laugh?"
The little snakes immediately lowered their heads.
Their head of house was even more venomous than usual today.
Snape took a deep breath, returning to his usual oppressive tone.
"Other professors have told me that you perform excellently in their classes."
"But Potions is different. It's a subtle art. This isn't a place for you to crack jokes, and that little bit of cleverness you have won't help you here. Watch your mouth!"
"Very well, Potter—what would I get if I added Asphodel Root Powder to an infusion of wormwood?"
His tone shifted, and he suddenly asked the question.
Strain, struggle, and a tiny hope buried beneath all that malice—so faint that it was almost imperceptible, almost too faint for Harry to detect.
"Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion."
Snape immediately followed up. "If I asked you to find me a Bezoar?"
"Kill a cow, cut it open, and look in its stomach," Harry replied.
Snape gave a derisive laugh. He didn't even realize that his tone had softened a little. "You don't need to add all those unnecessary steps on your own."
"You do have a little cleverness, I'll give you that. Now, monkshood..."
He went on to ask many more questions.
Hermione anxiously began tapping the desk, while Ron stared in amazement.
The questions covered almost the entire first-year curriculum. Even Hermione had to admit she wouldn't know how to answer some of them, but Harry responded with ease, hardly needing to think.
"You do have a little cleverness that can get you by." Snape glanced toward the window, tapped the desk, and his voice sank into a dull mutter. "For all those clever little additions you made... Gryffindor loses one—"
The word "one" had barely left his lips.
Snape saw Harry's catlike, amber eyes and gritted his teeth. His voice hardened. "Gryffindor loses five points!"
Hermione shot to her feet. "Professor, that's unfair!"
"Harry answered so many questions. He could pass the first-year final exam right now! He's done brilliantly, so how can you still take points away?"
Snape smiled contemptuously. "Miss Otter, are you questioning a professor?"
"No, I just..." Hermione hurriedly shook her head.
Snape shook his own. "What's your name?"
"Hermione Granger."
"Good. Reckless and impulsive, a typical brainless little Gryffindor miss. For talking back to a professor, Gryffindor loses one point!"
Hermione wasn't angry. She looked up, bewildered.
Harry had performed brilliantly and lost five points.
She had talked back to the professor and lost only one.
Did Harry and Professor Snape really hate each other that much?
"Now, sit down!" Snape swept a hand through the air. "Some people are quick with their tongues, but that's useless. Being quick with your tongue might make you a herbologist."
"Potions requires precise control of the heat, the right combination of magic, and the most ingenious proportions. Without practical work, it's all just talk."
Snape drew his wand and tapped the blackboard.
Several lines of text appeared.
"Now, take out your cauldrons, light your fires, and brew your potions." Snape looked coldly at the students. "I have no theory to teach you."
"Potions are learned through trial and practice, improving little by little."
"There's no shortcut you can take with a little cleverness!"
"I hope none of you have a troll's or a Mountain Troll's brain and make the fool of yourself by blowing up your cauldron in the very first lesson."
Neville shuddered.
Seamus stood with his hands on his hips, completely unaware of it.
Harry had already tried brewing this potion many times over the summer, so this time it came easily to him.
Snape came over several times, looking for an excuse to criticize him, but Harry's work was by the book. There was nothing to fault. Snape could only give a cold snort and turn away.
Harry wasn't affected at all.
Neville, on the other hand, grew even more nervous. Trembling, he grabbed a handful of Porcupine Quills and was about to toss them into the cauldron.
Harry hurriedly caught his hand. "Don't put them in yet. Move the cauldron away first, then add them. It'll explode otherwise."
Neville jolted and quickly pulled his hand back. He thanked Harry sincerely. "Oh, thank you."
"Mr. Potter, do you think that because you have no problems of your own, you can dispense favors to other students and recruit followers?" Snape's sudden question startled Neville. His hand jerked, splashing half the water out of the cauldron. Fortunately, no one was scalded.
"Idiot! How can you brew a potion with unsteady hands?" Snape frowned. "Did a troll eat your brain and leave you unable to control your own body?"
Neville looked ready to cry.
Snape sneered. That expression... the wrinkled, ratlike thing practically overlapped with Neville. "Potter, why didn't you go the whole way and remind him to keep his hand steady?"
"Because of your mistake, Gryffindor loses two points!"
Neville was too stunned even to be afraid.
He was the one who'd spilled the hot water, but in the end... why had Harry lost points?
Ron and Hermione, sitting behind them, were even more astonished.
Harry didn't show the slightest change in expression. He continued brewing his potion.
An hour later, the lesson ended, and it was time for the final evaluations.
Just as Snape had said, Potions was a subtle and exquisite art. Even with the instructions written in detail on the blackboard, fewer than half the students managed to brew a successful potion.
Apart from Harry, Hermione and Malfoy had done the best.
But they didn't receive so much as a word of praise from Snape, or even any extra attention. His purpose was obvious: he was here for Harry.
Snape picked up Harry's potion and swirled it, examining its color in the firelight. He smelled it, too, and inspected it for longer than he'd spent on all the other students combined.
"You do have a bit of talent for Potions." Snape didn't look at Harry. He gazed at the potion, lost in thought, his tone a little gentler.
Ron and Hermione stared in amazement again.
Oh...
Was this really Professor Snape, the venomous snake who'd spent two whole lessons picking on Harry?
Snape turned to Harry. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see even the faintest trace of the person who should have been there.
Those amber catlike eyes.
The sudden mutation.
Snape's expression turned cold in an instant. He set the potion down gently, then slapped the desk hard. "But do you think your work was excellent?"
"Use that brain of yours, which is only slightly better than a troll's, and think carefully!"
"Why do you add the Porcupine Quills only after moving the cauldron? If you understand the reason, then why didn't you wait for the boiling water to cool down a little more before adding them?"
"And the Stewed Flobberworm. I asked you about this ingredient. It has multiple medicinal properties. Which property does the Boil-Cure Potion need?"
"Why didn't you separate out that part before stewing it? It should have been an excellent potion, but because of your mistake, it's only barely acceptable."
"Potter, Gryffindor loses two points!"
The other students' hearts sank.
Oh... that moment of gentleness just now had definitely been an illusion. This was the Professor Snape they knew.
Snape turned his head and continued evaluating the next student.
"Harry, don't be upset. You did really well," Hermione and Ron said, leaning over to comfort him.
Harry looked puzzled. "Why would I be upset?"
"Your potion was even better than mine. He was just nitpicking..." Hermione began.
But Harry shook his head, interrupting her before she could finish. "No. Professor Snape's just a little sharp-tongued, but he's right."
"Those really were the things I could have done better when brewing the potion."
Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out.
One was willing to hit, and the other was willing to take it.
How...
How was she supposed to comfort him?
Snape whipped around and glared at Harry through narrowed eyes. "Potter, do you find it amusing to talk about professors behind their backs? How arrogant. Gryffindor loses five points!"
Hermione was stunned. She clenched her fists, waited for Snape to turn back around, then apologized guiltily. "I'm sorry. This was my fault."
Fourteen points lost in one lesson.
Astonishing.
Harry shook his head. "I've earned nearly fifteen points in my other classes this week. That makes up for it."
Then he paused. "You only lost one point, and you've earned ten in your other classes, so you're still up nine."
When the lesson ended.
Ron packed his bag, then invited the girl beside him. "We're going to Hagrid's house in a bit—the big guy who showed us the way to the castle at the train station. Do you want to come along?"
Hermione had stood up for Harry.
His fondness for her shot up.
"Wait for me a moment. I have something to discuss with Professor Snape." Harry packed his things, set his bag on the desk, and walked straight over to Snape.
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