Tom sat back down, looking utterly aggrieved. Daphne beside him was dumbfounded, staring at him in confusion.
Tom had answered the question in such detail. How could the professor still be this angry?
The little witches and wizards looked at one another, then all turned to face the furious Snape.
Snape grew flustered under their stares and roared at the class, "What are you looking at me for? Are the answers written on my face? Hurry up and write them down. Do you expect me to stuff them into your heads? Bunch of idiots!"
The little witches and wizards shuddered in fright and hurriedly lowered their heads to write. Snape happened to catch sight of the notes Nott was taking in the front row and nearly passed out from rage.
He roared at Nott, "Why are you writing down Riddle's nonsense? I told you to write down the Potions recipe! The recipe! Do you hear me?"
Nott's hand jerked in fright, and his quill fell to the floor. He hurriedly picked it up, erased what he had just written, and started recording the recipe again.
At last, Snape pressed a hand to his forehead and said through gritted teeth, "You really are the worst class I've ever taught. No contest!"
Tom had Snape so enraged that his temples throbbed. The professor's imposing demeanor had been thoroughly demolished by the brat, and after losing his cool twice in a row, his aloof persona had completely crumbled.
But he was the professor. He couldn't admit defeat to a student, so he could only seethe inwardly, determined to find something to hold against Tom.
With a cold expression, he waved his wand, and a dense list of Potions recipes appeared on the blackboard. "The ingredients and steps for the Boil-Cure Potion are all here. Pair up and collect your ingredients. Anyone who wastes any will spend a week cleaning the classroom!"
The little witches and wizards didn't dare dawdle and hurried to collect their ingredients. Tom naturally paired up with Daphne. It had only been a week since term began, but Slytherin and Gryffindor were already firmly divided. As luck would have it, both houses had an even number of first-years, so they couldn't even use that as an excuse to pair up across houses.
Within minutes, the Potions Classroom was as hot as a steamer, with wisps of smoke drifting everywhere.
Brewing a simple potion wasn't much different from cooking. The only real difference was that the ingredients had to be prepared more carefully and measured more precisely. Tom glanced at the blackboard twice and got straight to work.
Snape drifted silently around the classroom like a bat that had come to life. The little witches and wizards were all on edge, afraid he'd set his sights on them.
They soon realized that Snape was directing all his fury at Harry.
"Potter! If you don't know what 'small pieces' means, ask! You've chopped the Porcupine Quills into crumbs? Gryffindor loses one point!"
"Potter, Hogwarts ought to hire you a language tutor, so the Chosen One can learn to read a professor's notes instead of making the whole school laugh! Another point!"
"Potter, I told you to simmer the slugs. Did you simmer them? Potter! Are you deaf?"
Harry regretted it bitterly, cursing Tom eight hundred times in his mind. That brat was full of it! He said Snape was apologizing, but Snape was obviously picking on him on purpose!
The class was barely halfway over, and Gryffindor had already lost ten points. Hermione was so anxious she was pulling at her hair, wishing she could brew the potion for Harry.
After Snape had finished berating Harry, he made a couple of sarcastic remarks about Longbottom, reducing the little boy to tears, then turned his attention to Tom.
He couldn't bring himself to take points away—after all, Tom was a Slytherin—but he wasn't afraid to verbally tear into him. If he could find fault with anything, he'd make sure Tom couldn't hold his head up.
But after watching Tom for ages, his expression grew darker and darker. He still couldn't find a single thing wrong.
He'd strained to pick a "flaw" in Tom's work, only to discover that it all came down to poor-quality ingredients. It had nothing to do with Tom.
Ingredient quality affected a potion's results, and the brewing process called for subtle adjustments. That was far beyond what a first-year student was expected to understand.
But Tom followed every instruction on the blackboard to the letter, measuring each ingredient to the gram and timing each step to the second. Watching him made Snape feel deeply uncomfortable, like he had a bone stuck in his throat.
Andros watched in amazement. Setting talent aside, Tom's ability to learn was absurd. He could pick anything up just by looking at it, and he got the hang of things at a frightening speed.
Snape watched for a long while before finally spotting Daphne standing beside the cauldron, staring blankly into it. He immediately bellowed, "Riddle! The point of working in pairs isn't for you to do all the work while Greengrass watches! Don't get cocky just because you have a little talent. What are you so pleased with yourself for?"
Then, afraid Tom would snap back at him, he didn't wait for a reply. He scurried away on his short legs as fast as he could.
After losing two verbal sparring matches in a row, Snape had finally learned his lesson: if he could keep Tom from speaking, he absolutely wouldn't give him the chance.
Tom watched him go, looking insufferably smug. "As expected of the old bat. He's certainly gotten good at finding fault."
Daphne, however, looked full of remorse. She tugged at his sleeve and apologized in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry, Tom. It was my fault for spacing out. That's why the professor scolded you."
"Come on, it's no big deal." Tom smiled and pushed the dried nettles toward her. His tone was perfectly earnest, with a hint of emotion. "Maybe the professor feels sorry for me and deliberately wants you to share the burden. Here, grind these into powder and toss them into the cauldron. I'll leave it to you, my little helper."
Daphne's eyes lit up. She obediently picked up the tools and began grinding the nettles, taking the task as seriously as if it were a great mission.
The bell rang. Snape didn't look at Tom again. As he left, he tossed out a threat: "Write a sixteen-inch essay and hand it in first thing tomorrow morning. Not one word less!"
The whole class immediately looked crestfallen. Tom was no exception.
The other professors' essays were only six inches long, about fifteen hundred words. Snape had tripled the length outright. Just thinking about four or five thousand words of homework was enough to make his head ache.
Snape ignored everyone's resentful looks and slammed the door on his way out.
"Come on." Tom pulled Daphne to her feet, thinking, I have to get myself a self-writing quill, or this homework will drive me crazy.
The Boil-Cure Potion was so simple that writing four or five thousand words about it was just busywork. He wasn't going to waste his time on that.
Wasn't taking a walk with Daphne and watching her sweet smile better than grinding away at an essay?
What annoyed Tom even more was that Snape hadn't given him a single point all lesson! He was the pride of Slytherin. What a half-hearted way to treat him.
Tom rubbed his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I have to find a chance to turn up the heat on Snape and show him who Slytherin's real backbone is.
After lunch, Harry and Ron went to Hagrid's Hut as planned.
The Half-blood Giant was just as welcoming as ever. He brought out scalding hot tea and rock cakes hard enough to hurt your teeth, then piled them high on the table.
Looking at Ron's red hair, Hagrid scratched his head with a troubled expression. "Another Weasley? I haven't had a decent night's sleep in years, trying to keep your brothers out of the Forbidden Forest. I'm on guard against them every day like they're thieves."
Ron gave an awkward laugh and picked up a rock cake to bite into. He nearly chipped a tooth, so he hurriedly lowered his head and pretended to drink his tea to hide his embarrassment.
Harry quietly put down his rock cake, blew on his hot tea, and chatted with Hagrid about how his first week of classes had gone.
To Harry, Hogwarts was paradise: comfortable dormitories, all the food he could eat, a sizeable inheritance, the chance to learn magic, and a friend like Ron.
But Snape's harassment that day had completely ruined his good mood.
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