Potions

It was Friday, and Eli was about to have his first Potions lesson.

Whether it was deliberate or not, Slytherin and Gryffindor had been at odds for years, with fights between them hardly uncommon. Yet the school paired these rival houses in plenty of classes.

Potions was no exception.

Eli could guarantee that, starting today, Gryffindor's first-years would come to hate Potions with a passion.

For one reason: the professor was Snape.

Eli knew a little about Snape's miserable childhood. Not only had someone from Gryffindor stolen the girl he loved, but that same crowd had humiliated him in public time and again.

Once, they had apparently even pulled down his trousers in front of everyone.

Given Snape's habit of holding grudges, Gryffindor would never have an easy time while he remained a professor at the school.

And, just their luck, he was also head of Slytherin.

His fierce favoritism toward his own house was legendary throughout Hogwarts.

Worse, the man who had humiliated him back then was Harry's father. Fate had a strange sense of humor: Harry had Lily's eyes, but his father's face.

Eli could easily imagine Harry losing points today for walking into the classroom left foot first.

Eli was nervous too. His face looked so much like Lily's that he was genuinely afraid Snape might do something unexpected.

If anyone in the entire Harry Potter series deserved the title of most hopelessly devoted, it was Snape.

So, to avoid drawing Snape's attention, Eli had left his chemistry equipment behind.

The Potions Classroom was as gloomy as Snape's face. It was a damp, dark basement where no sensible person would choose to teach.

"Eli, where have you been these past few days? We've barely seen you!"

Snape had yet to arrive, and Harry sat down beside Eli.

Bloody hell, mate. Could you sit a little farther away?

Eli almost kicked Harry away on instinct.

He was trying not to catch Snape's eye. As far as Snape was concerned, Harry might as well have a target painted on him. Sitting next to Eli was just asking to draw fire!

Of course, Eli considered himself a remarkably composed person and did nothing inappropriate.

He did, however, quietly edge a little farther away.

"I've been studying lately. It's no wonder you haven't seen me."

Harry and Ron both gave him skeptical looks.

Eli bristled at once.

What, you look down on me? Just wait until I've mastered everything. You'll be green with envy!

They were still chatting when a tremendous bang came from the doorway. The old bat... no, Snape made his grand entrance.

From head to toe, he wore nothing but black.

A black cloak trailed almost to the floor and billowed as he walked. Paired with his hollow, dead-fish stare, it made him look exactly like an old bat.

The classroom fell silent. Even the Slytherins barely dared to breathe after Snape's ominous entrance.

"I guarantee this professor is bad news,"

Ron whispered.

Snape reached the front of the room in a few strides. His hollow gaze swept the classroom like a predator searching for prey.

He found it. His eyes settled on Harry.

On Harry's eyes, to be precise.

Then Snape glanced at Harry's face and looked as though he had swallowed a fly.

His gaze caught Eli beside him. His pupils contracted, and he could no longer look away.

The moment Snape had entered, Eli had lowered his head slightly. He did not dare meet Snape's eyes.

Snape stared at Eli for a long while. When he glanced back at the vacant-looking Harry, his expression suggested he had found a steaming pile of filth beside his dinner plate.

"Mr Potter."

Called on without warning, Harry looked up in confusion. The poor boy had no idea what was coming.

Eli had already begun mourning for him. He had not expected Snape to target Harry so quickly.

Snape's emotionless yet resonant voice echoed through the gloomy basement classroom.

"Did Gryffindor not save you a seat?"

Harry and Ron were sitting among Slytherins, Eli included.

There was no written rule, but students from the same house generally sat together in class.

"Professor..." Harry tried to protest, but Snape cut him off without mercy.

"I do not wish to repeat myself, Mr Potter!"

Faced with Snape's terrifying expression, Harry and Ron slunk back to the Gryffindor seats.

With Harry and Ron gone, Snape looked at Eli sitting alone and felt instantly refreshed. The whole world seemed brighter!

In high spirits, Snape launched into his declaration about Potions.

"You are here to learn the precise science and exacting art of potion-making."

His voice rose slightly.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving here, so many of you will doubt that this is magic. I do not expect you to appreciate the beauty of a cauldron simmering over a low flame, sending up fragrant wisps of steam. You will not truly understand the wondrous power of a liquid flowing through the veins, captivating the heart and clouding the mind... I can teach you to raise your standing, brew glory, even stave off death—but only if you are not the sort of dunderheads I so often encounter."

Sitting alone, Eli felt deeply uncomfortable. Now he was fully exposed under Snape's watchful eye.

Still, Snape's speech was undeniably compelling. The young witches and wizards were captivated.

Draco's eyes had lit up at the mention of raising one's standing. By the time Snape spoke of staving off death, Draco looked ready to rush forward and pledge his loyalty.

Eli, meanwhile, began mourning for Harry again. The poor boy was about to face Snape's first attack.

"Mr Potter!"

Called on again, Harry looked up in confusion. He already had a bad feeling.

Sure enough, Snape asked calmly, "Tell me, what do you get when you add Asphodel Root to an Infusion of Wormwood?"

Harry had barely opened his textbook. How could he possibly know?

"I don't know, Professor."

Snape showed no reaction. From the moment he had asked, his eyes had been fixed on Eli.

Snickers rose from the Slytherin side, mostly from Draco and his cronies.

Hermione held her hand high to show she knew the answer, but Snape ignored her.

"You don't know? Very well. Where would you find a Bezoar?"

"I don't know, Professor."

The answer was the same, and the snickering grew louder. Hermione's hand remained raised. Snape continued to ignore her.

"What is the difference between monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

"I don't know..."

Harry's voice had grown much quieter. Snape's three questions in a row had caught him completely off guard.

Snape slowly tore his gaze away from Eli and glanced at Harry.

"Oh, so fame means very little. You cannot even prepare for class. Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Mocking laughter burst from the Slytherins. Draco gave the expressionless Harry a smug look.

Snape surveyed the room. "And why are none of you writing down the questions I just asked? Apparently only Mr. Hall knows a quill is for taking notes. Ten points to Slytherin!"

Eli: ???

Eli looked at the quill in front of him, which had not even touched the ink, and slowly drew a mental question mark.

Hermione looked at Eli indignantly. She could have answered every question!

Even the Slytherins were baffled by the sudden points.

Head of House, isn't that favoritism a little too blatant? Though you could give us more!

Eli felt a pang of emotion. Snape's devotion really did run deep. Those questions had sounded like an attempt to make Harry suffer, but the words concealed an expression of his guilt toward Lily.

His peculiar way of expressing it had certainly been rough on poor Harry.

Next came practical work. Snape told them to make a Cure for Boils Potion in pairs.

Eli, however, was assigned to work alone. Whether that was deliberate, he could not say.

This beginner's potion would be a breeze for him.

Even without his scientific equipment, the touch he had developed through practice was enough to produce an excellent potion.

He worked quickly. He had lost count of how many times he had practiced making this potion.

He chopped ingredients, squeezed out juice, and applied heat in one seamless sequence, with the bearing of a master.

Snape, a true master himself, noticed every move. His eyes gleamed.

He walked slowly over to Eli, who was nearly finished. The other groups were still fumbling through their books as they chopped ingredients.

Snape ladled up a spoonful of potion and sniffed it. He looked as though he had discovered a treasure.

"The book says to add three drops of hellebore juice. What you just did looked rather different."

Snape's voice was unusually gentle.

The sudden gentleness made Eli uncomfortable, but he was still pleased that a Potions Master had taken notice of his work.

"I found that the amount in the book is just the most common, reliable measure. It isn't precise enough. So I collected the juice and poured it down the stirring rod. That's more accurate."

Eli made it sound easy, but reaching that conclusion had cost him plenty of Galleons!

Snape's eyes positively shone. He looked like a man who had found a kindred spirit. "Yes, yes. The book is not precise. You ought to think for yourself."

He straightened abruptly. "Twenty points to Slytherin!"

He picked up Eli's potion and showed it to everyone. "You should all take a look at what a real potion looks like!"

Hermione had only just finished heating hers. Eli was already done, and his potion was that good. She stared at him as though she had seen a ghost.

Had he really been studying?

Class ended soon afterward. Most students had managed to make a potion, but none could compare with Eli's.

Perhaps because of Eli, Snape was in an exceptionally good mood. He even gave Harry a few pointers, leaving Harry almost overwhelmed by the attention.

Even when Neville spilled his potion, Snape only shouted at him a few times.

"Write up today's experiment on parchment and hand it in next lesson. Mr. Hall, stay behind."