Ripples spread across the potion in the cauldron.
Will stirred it slowly but steadily. Bubbles rose and burst, sending curls of white steam upward.
Snape swept between the rows of white vapor in his billowing black robes, occasionally spitting venom at students who had made a mess of their work. Harry, of course, took the brunt of it.
"Oh... Pot~ter, this revolting mixture of yours hardly looks like a potion. It looks more like a poison that could kill someone outright. Perhaps I've overlooked your talent for making poisons?
Perhaps you ought to taste it yourself first, before you send some innocent person to meet Merlin. Don't you agree?"
Even as a champion, Harry still hated Potions Class more than anything. Not having homework made no difference to his instinctive loathing of Snape's lessons.
He tried to focus on the droplets clinging to the side of his cauldron. He numbered several of them and silently guessed which would reach the bottom first, doing his best to shut out Snape's taunts.
Of course, Neville was another student Snape particularly "favored."
"Longbottom, if I catch you using high heat again when the brewing calls for medium heat, I'll throw your toad into the cauldron and make toad soup!"
"Get moving! You should be finishing up by now! You took too long preparing your ingredients, and now you can't keep up! Next time anyone runs over time, I'll give them a month of detention in my office!"
As Snape spoke, the entire Potions Classroom fell silent. It was like a class whose mock-exam results had been poor just as their homeroom teacher was in a bad mood.
But no matter how many undercurrents stirred through the Wizarding World, the students at Hogwarts felt none of them. Their biggest concern was still attending classes