Potions Class

Originally, influenced by the others, Sean had thought that Snape and Harry might not be quite so openly hostile toward each other. Perhaps Snape really did have it in for Harry, but perhaps Snape's hatred of Harry was merely a misunderstanding from Harry's perspective. Just as Snape helped Harry many times later on and even gave his life for him, perhaps Snape did not hate Harry because of Harry's mother.

But when Sean, sitting in front of Harry, saw the look in Snape's eyes as he stared at Harry, he finally understood that his guesses were only guesses, and those maybes were merely maybes. The hatred and fury in Snape's eyes were not the slightest bit false. Snape truly had been willing to give his life for Lily Evans's child at a crucial moment, to make up for his own mistakes, but he also truly harbored an indescribable resentment toward James Potter's son.

Seeing Snape as he was now, Sean sighed inwardly. He knew there was no possibility of changing the relationship between Snape and Harry. It was not something he could interfere with.

The consequences of school bullying could only be borne by the bully's child.

Perhaps to most people, James Potter's achievements in fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his willingness to give his life to protect his child made him a hero. In truth, he did count as a hero. But to Snape, especially the teenage Snape, James Potter was nothing more than a school bully.

"Harry Potter..." Snape's somewhat slow, gentle tone carried an unresolvable hatred. Holding the roll book, he raised his eyes to Harry. "Oh yes, the legendary Savior. Such a famous figure."

At Snape's words, Malfoy and his two lackeys, Goyle and Crabbe, snickered. As the son of one of Snape's few friends, Malfoy was one of the rare students in Potions Class who could break the rules without being punished by Snape. Sean glanced at Malfoy. He was just a spoiled young master. If Malfoy did not provoke him, Sean could not even be bothered to acknowledge him.

"You are here to learn the precise science and strict art of brewing potions, not simply to wave your wands about like fools. That is why many people do not consider potion-making to be magic.

"I do not expect you to understand the allure of a cauldron simmering over a low flame, giving off White Smoke..."

After briefly explaining some of his understanding of potions, Snape turned to Harry again. Despite the look of utter refusal on Harry's face, he once more began picking on the son of his former enemy.

"Potter!"

Snape stepped down from the platform and came to stand before Harry. His hollow, empty eyes fixed on him as he enunciated each word. "If I added Daffodil Root Powder to Wormwood Infusion, what would I get?"

At that question, Harry wore the expression of someone questioning his entire existence. He understood every word individually, but when put together, he had no idea what they meant.

Meanwhile, Hermione, sitting beside Harry, raised her hand high. She wanted to prove that she was not some stupid fool, but a clever person capable of appreciating the charm of potions. Unfortunately, Snape had no interest in that. He ignored Hermione's raised hand and continued staring at Harry.

"I... I don't know, sir."

That answer did not surprise Snape. He gave a contemptuous laugh. "Tsk, tsk. It appears fame does not make a person know everything.

"Then let us try again.

"Potter, if I wanted to find a Bezoar, where should I look?"

"I don't know, sir."

Harry was beginning to feel a trace of anger, but intimidated by Snape's presence, he endured it.

"Third question, Mr. Potter, who has not even opened his books before the school term began: what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

At this point, Hermione glanced at Harry, stood up, and raised her hand high, wanting to answer in his place. But Snape had no intention of giving Hermione that chance. He merely stared at Harry!

"I don't know, sir! I think Hermione or someone else probably knows, so why don't you ask them?" Harry's tone could not help carrying a hint of anger. Confused and furious, he looked at Snape.

Seeing Harry's expression, Snape seemed to have won some sort of victory. He slowly stepped back two paces and said softly, "Mr. Bulstrode, tell Potter the answers to those three questions."

Hearing Snape's words, Sean did not particularly want to answer the three questions. Harry had treated him well and was quite sincere toward him. Earlier, when Sean had fought Goyle and Crabbe, Harry had even come forward to help. Sean bore Harry goodwill, so he rose a little slowly.

At that very moment, someone else stood up. In an instant, Snape and Sean remembered that there was another person named Bulstrode in the classroom.

Millicent looked awkwardly at Snape, while Snape looked at her.

Under Snape's gaze, Millicent's expression grew increasingly ugly. She opened her mouth, yet could not say a single word. In the end, she could only say to Snape, "Professor, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Is that the answer you are giving me? Mr. Bulstrode, as the Head of Slytherin, I am very disappointed in you."

Millicent knew she had done something foolish. When Snape had called out "Bulstrode," she had instinctively assumed he meant her. But the moment she stood up, she suddenly remembered that, judging from how Sean had helped Snape handle ingredients before class, Snape had most likely, or rather definitely, been calling for Sean, not Millicent.

It would have been one thing if Millicent could answer the questions, but she could not answer a single one. She had humiliated herself for nothing. Naturally, she did not dare hate Snape, so all the resentment born from her embarrassment was directed at Sean instead.

"Sit down, Mr. Bulstrode. I hope that before the next Potions Class, you will at least preview the textbook instead of being like certain famous Gryffindors." Having said that, Snape looked at Sean again. "Bulst... Sean, you answer those three questions."

At this point, Sean naturally could not delay any longer. He could only stand and answer all three questions Snape had asked Harry.

"Daffodil Root Powder and Wormwood Infusion can be brewed into a Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion. A Bezoar can be taken from a goat's stomach, and it is an extremely potent antidote. Monkshood and Wolfsbane are collectively called Aconite. They are the same plant."

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