Mr. Why

Word of Zhang Xiao's performance in Transfiguration spread through the entire first year at astonishing speed.

Zhang Xiao thought the main reason was that so many young witches and wizards were stunned to discover that Professor McGonagall could actually smile!

By the following day, Zhang Xiao had acquired his first nickname at school-"Mr. Why."

That was because he never stopped asking why:

"Professor Flitwick, why do we need gestures when casting spells? Don't some spells use the same gestures?"

"Professor Sprout, why can't these magical plants be crossbred? Could we try grafting them?"

"Professor Kettleburn, do these fantastic beasts taste good? We can't eat them? What about steeping them in liquor?"

These questions always left the professors silent for a long time, but they had to admit that, absurd as they sounded, they raised genuine issues when you thought about them.

There were thousands of spells, but their basic gestures never went much beyond waving, flicking, lifting, and jabbing. Surely some of them overlapped? And did casting spells really require gestures?

Professor Flitwick knew the answer, but it was too early for the young witches and wizards to learn it.

The witty, kindly head of house could only change the subject awkwardly and talk about the weather.

Could magical plants actually be grafted?

Nobody knew. No one had tried, because many magical plants were so precious that losing a single leaf was painful. Who could bear to graft them?

Rather than whether fantastic beasts tasted good, Professor Kettleburn was more interested in why anyone would steep them in liquor.

After listening to Zhang Xiao's explanation, the elderly professor with his great bushy beard was clearly drawn to phrases like "enhanced abilities," "relief from fatigue," "relief from rheumatism," and "warming the stomach."

He immediately decided to experiment with an Acromantula and a Swooping Evil from his own collection. If it really worked, the old professor intended to take on a Troll next.

Even Malfoy was planning to write secretly to his father, telling him that he had accidentally overheard a "secret medicinal recipe" from the ancient East.

And so Thursday finally arrived, bringing Zhang Xiao's first shared class with his Gryffindor friends-potions class.

The potions classroom was not far from the Slytherin Common Room, perhaps because both had been converted from dungeons.

It was colder and damper here than in the castle's main building above. Glass jars lined the walls, filled with preserved animal specimens that made them shiver even more than the cold did.

In the low-ceilinged classroom, Harry and Ron squeezed past Malfoy and sat beside Zhang Xiao, chatting happily with him:

"Zhang, how have you been? Have the Slytherins retaliated because you stopped them bullying the new students?"

Zhang Xiao was immediately surprised. Were Slytherin students really that good at keeping secrets?

Not a whisper had got out about him becoming the leader of the first years!

He shook his head. "Nobody's bullying me. But you, Harry-you can relax a bit in your other classes, but you need to be careful in potions."

Harry ducked his head. "You think so too? I told Ron that I felt Professor Snape didn't like me at the opening feast."

Ron said, puzzled, "But why? Even if he's head of Slytherin, there's no reason to single out a Gryffindor student he's never even met, is there?"

Zhang Xiao could hardly say too much, so he gave a vague answer:

"I heard something in Slytherin. Apparently, it's a grudge from your parents' generation. Your dad and Professor Snape didn't get along, but I don't know the details."

My dad? Harry felt as though someone had squeezed his heart. He nodded silently, bit his lip, and quietly opened his book.

Bang! The dungeon door was shoved open, and Professor Snape strode inside.

His black cloak billowed behind him, like a huge bat gliding toward them.

As he walked, he gave his wand a casual wave, and the classroom's doors and windows slammed shut on their own.

He leaned against the lectern and swept his cold, gloomy gaze around the classroom.

The students, already shivering from the cold, gave a sudden shudder and hurriedly sat up straight.

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

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, with an almost aria-like cadence.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving in my class. I do not expect you to truly appreciate the beauty of potions.

Nor will you truly understand the exquisite magic of liquids flowing through the human body, enchanting the senses and clouding the will...

I can teach you how to raise your reputation, brew glory, and even halt death-but only if you are not the sort of witless fools I so often encounter."

When he finished his brief introduction, the whole class was silent. Harry and Ron sat meekly with their eyes lowered, like timid young brides, scarcely daring to breathe.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, apparently very interested in raising his reputation and brewing glory.

Hermione Granger had edged almost to the end of her seat and was leaning forward, evidently eager to prove that she was no witless fool.

"Potter!" Snape stressed the name, then asked softly, "What would I get if I added asphodel root powder to an infusion of wormwood?"

What root powder in what solution? Harry's heart tightened. Zhang was right!

His face went pale with nerves. As though she had heard a starting pistol, Hermione shot her arm into the air so fast it almost left an afterimage.

She also gave Zhang Xiao a slightly challenging look, apparently considering him her rival.

Uh... Zhang Xiao stared speechlessly at Hermione as she kept raising her eyebrows at him. Then, under her astonished gaze, he covered his face with one hand and slowly turned away to escape her line of sight.

Coward! Hermione turned her head away disdainfully and raised her hand even higher.

Snape ignored everyone else completely. His black eyes, deep as an ancient well, moved back and forth between Harry's green eyes and black hair, his tone growing colder:

"Potter, then tell me about monkshood and wolfsbane..."

Snape stopped halfway through. He twitched his nose twice, looking slightly puzzled, then drew his wand and tapped his hooked nose.

To Zhang Xiao's horror, Snape strode to the back of the classroom like a police dog that had sniffed out contraband. He stopped in front of Zhang Xiao's cauldron and asked darkly:

"Whose cauldron is this?"

Zhang Xiao slowly stood, trying desperately to convey his thoughts through his hopeful gaze. Sir, I'm one of yours! One of yours!!!

"Professor, it's mine!"

I'm done for. I didn't scrub the cauldron after that hot pot. I used Scourgify, but I hadn't mastered it yet. Even so, isn't Snape's nose a little too sharp?

Seeing that the student who had stood up was a Slytherin, Snape's icy gaze softened a little.

He pressed his lips together, raised his wand, and waved it again. At once, all kinds of glowing motes appeared above the cauldron.

Hermione gave a soft gasp, covered her mouth, and whispered, "Scarpin's Revelaspell! The professor is analyzing the potion's ingredients!"

Snape stared intently at the glowing motes above the cauldron for a long time, his brow furrowing more and more deeply. Finally, he could not help asking:

"What potion did you brew in this cauldron?"