"Put away your wands. You won't need them for this lesson," Snape said coldly as he strode up to the lectern.
The Potions Classroom was dimly lit, and Tris couldn't quite make out Snape's complexion, but judging by his expression, he seemed to be in a very foul mood.
It doesn't look like this is just because Harry's here, does it?
The other young wizards clearly weren't quite so observant. At the announcement that they wouldn't need their wands, quite a few looked disappointed.
So far, they hadn't found a single class at Hogwarts that didn't require wands interesting.
History of Magic, Astronomy, Herbology-they were either complicated or a hassle, and none of them were any fun. Even Defense Against Dark Magic, which was just as dull, at least had a professor who didn't insist they put their wands away.
Now that Potions Class wouldn't let them hold their wands either, the young wizards immediately relegated it to the same tier as History of Magic.
Snape had no idea what the young wizards were thinking. Of course, even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared. As the teacher at Hogwarts with the least regard for professional ethics, he only took a slight interest in offering guidance to students who genuinely possessed exceptional talent and understanding.
And he had already observed this year's intake at the start of term.
To his eye as the youngest Potions Master, not one of them possessed any genuine talent for potions.
That suited him perfectly. He had no desire to waste his energy on things he considered utterly inconsequential anyway.
His gaze swept quickly around the classroom, briefly lingering on Harry before moving away. "Today, we will study one of the simplest potions. Any creature with a brain larger than a gnome's should be able to complete it without difficulty..."
Then Snape began the lesson in a flat, unvarying drone that rivaled Professor Binns's in sheer tedium.
The other students didn't think there was anything unusual about it. This was Potions, after all. Over the past week, they'd heard plenty of older students describe it as a complicated, tedious subject.
Only Tris had a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Wait, we're just starting the lesson?
What about that opening speech that was half boasting, half self-description? What about the original three questions aimed at Harry?
All gone?
Whatever Tris thought, however, Snape clearly intended to conduct the lesson his own way.
For their first lesson, they were learning to make the Simple Potion for Treating Boils. It might have been called a simple potion, but brewing it wasn't entirely without difficulty.
There were a great many details to keep track of, from gathering and preparing the ingredients to the brewing itself.
Compared with the advanced potions Tris had read about, at least it didn't require ingredients harvested at specific times or in specific weather, nor did it require magical power. But for young wizards trying their hands at brewing for the first time, it still demanded their full concentration if they wanted to avoid mistakes.
After explaining all the key points, Snape sat at the lectern, his cold, emotionless eyes sweeping over the classroom as he waited for the students to try brewing for themselves.
That was when things got lively.
As mentioned, the young wizards could brew this potion without making mistakes if they gave it their full attention. But maintaining that kind of focus was no easy task in itself.
Concentration had never been something everyone possessed.
Before long, things began going wrong all over the classroom.
"Foolish. Even an ogre's movements are more precise than yours."
"Idiot. Your hands are shaking like a brainless zombie's."
"If your eyes were of any use at all, you would be able to see that your porcupine quills exceed the specified length."
Although Snape remained seated at the lectern, he clearly spotted every student's mistakes. Most of the time, however, he merely mocked them in a vicious, belittling tone without explaining exactly what the problem was.
The exceptions were a handful of Slytherins, such as Malfoy and Daphne.
Is this my influence? Snape doesn't seem as friendly toward Malfoy as he was in the original story, Tris thought as he carefully prepared his potion ingredients.
He wasn't moving quickly. In fact, he was among the slower students in the class of twenty-one, but he was exceptionally meticulous.
Unlike the other young wizards, who still had to consult their books to check the details of ingredient preparation-even though Snape had explained everything, people who could remember it all after hearing it once were clearly rare-Tris worked slowly but steadily once he began, without hesitation or pauses.
Even Hermione, beside him, checked her book again before preparing several of the ingredients.
Tris didn't know whether Snape had noticed his performance, nor did he particularly care. Although he'd seen plenty of people online in his previous life who adored Snape, he wasn't one of them.
He simply followed the steps to brew his potion. Knowledge was unquestionably a good thing-though, of course, in a Lovecraftian world, one would need to be a little careful about how much one consumed.
Potions Class was a double period. Brewing took time, after all, and the young wizards generally couldn't get it right on their first attempt. The few exceptions tended to be concentrated in Ravenclaw.
Today, however, Gryffindor and Slytherin happened to have one each.
One was, without question, Tris. Having thoroughly memorized his introductory Potions and Herbology textbooks, he could handle the brewing process with ease.
He succeeded on his first attempt, with almost perfect results.
When Snape saw it, he even gave an almost imperceptible nod.
The other, however, wasn't Hermione, whom Tris had considered the likeliest candidate.
Although Hermione also finished before the end of class, she had encountered a minor problem along the way. She had simply noticed it in time and corrected it herself.
Her final result was much like Tris's, but she had taken considerably longer. And Tris had deliberately slowed his own pace.
The other student who completed the brewing successfully on his first attempt, without a single mistake, was actually Neville.
Tris was utterly baffled.
Wasn't Neville supposed to struggle terribly with potions?
One of the students with the worst Potions grades in the entire year?
The reason was that he was so terrified of Snape that he became nervous in Potions Class, his thoughts muddled and his hands shaking.
Yet now he had become the only student besides Tris to finish the potion in one attempt. Even Tris couldn't make sense of the reason behind it.
Judging by his behavior on the train to Hogwarts, Neville was still the same muddleheaded boy Tris remembered. What was behind this sudden change?
Could someone have transmigrated into him, or taken over his body?
Tris entertained the thought with considerable suspicion.
At the end of class, Snape awarded Slytherin five points for Tris's nearly perfect potion. He deducted seven points from Gryffindor: two for Harry and Ron's disastrous potions, and another five because Seamus Finnigan had blown up his cauldron...
Seamus "Demolition Prodigy" Finnigan is already showing his talent?
Tris was a little surprised.
There was actually still some time left before the double period ended, but Snape clearly had no intention of continuing.
"I have seen the extent of your abilities. As I expected, they amount to very little. Clearly, you possess no talent for this subtle and extraordinary subject.
"That is a good thing, too. Perhaps there will be fewer eyesores in my N.E.W.T. class next year." With that, he turned and left the classroom without looking back.
Something's wrong. Something is very wrong!
Tris felt he needed to find a chance to sound Neville out. If someone really had transmigrated into him, he ought to go and meet a fellow traveler from home.
Although Neville was one of Tris's favorite Harry Potter characters, a fellow traveler from his own world would certainly be more appealing.
Even in the real world, people could be moved to tears upon meeting someone from their hometown, let alone in another world.
But while Tris was still pondering how to go about it, Ron and Harry called out to him first.
"Tris, do you have any classes this afternoon?" Ron asked.
"No." Tris shook his head. "Madam Hooch isn't back yet, is she? Flying Class hasn't resumed."
"Oh, right, we're in the same Flying Class too." Ron smacked his forehead in realization, then said, "Want to come to Hagrid's with us this afternoon, then? He invited Harry over for tea, so we're going to have a look."
"Fine by me." Tris nodded. "But will you be all right with your homework?"
Although Snape's behavior in class had differed greatly from the plot Tris remembered, nothing had changed when it came to homework. It was still staggeringly demanding in both difficulty and quantity.
Even Tris, who had already finished most of his other homework, couldn't help grimacing, never mind everyone else.
Tris was certain that, apart from himself, no more than a handful of the forty-one first-years would be able to enjoy their first weekend of term without having to do homework.
"Well... every cloud has a silver lining, right? We'll figure something out," Ron said, scratching his head.
Tris smacked his lips. The proverb Ron had used meant that even the worst situation had a good side, or that there was still something comforting to be found amid despair.
In comparison, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it" would have been more appropriate here.
Still, Tris guessed Ron felt the workload was already too much for him to finish, so he'd more or less given up trying.
Tris had no intention of offering any additional advice.
As the saying went, people could try teaching you a lesson and get nowhere, while experience only needed one attempt.
Once Ron and the others learned the hard way, they would understand that homework was something best dealt with in advance.
Tris nodded at once. "Sure, let's go together, then. Hopefully Hagrid won't object to having a Slytherin like me around."
"Of course he won't," Harry exclaimed. "We all know you're a good guy, Tris. Getting sorted into Slytherin must have been an accident. Actually... um, I nearly ended up in Slytherin too."
"Really?" Ron looked astonished.
Harry nodded and told them about the conversation he'd had with the Sorting Hat in his head while wearing it.
"So that's why you had the Sorting Hat on for so long," Ron said, looking enlightened. Then he seemed a little disappointed. "Why didn't anything like that happen when I wore it?"
The Sorting Hat hadn't even settled properly onto his head before it shouted Gryffindor.
Among this year's young wizards, Ron had been one of the two students sorted the fastest. The other was Draco, who had been assigned to Slytherin almost instantly.
"By the way," Ron said, looking thoughtfully at Tris, "I remember you took quite a while with the Sorting Hat too. Didn't you try bargaining with it?"
"I did," Tris said darkly. "But I failed."