The first messenger flew out of the owlery, and the first rays of orange sunlight climbed onto the spires of Hogwarts Castle.
The corridors became bustling once again.
A large group of young wizards was making their way down the spiral staircase toward the dungeons.
"I heard the Potions professor is Professor Snape,"
Michael rubbed his sleepy eyes; he had spent half the night researching a quill and was still yawning.
"It’s a rumor I heard in the Ravenclaw common room. Those older students say Professor Snape is, in all of Hogwarts..."
He paused deliberately, causing Terry, who was walking beside him, to stretch his neck and lean his ear in.
Even the whispers of the surrounding young wizards quieted down.
"He is, in all of Hogwarts—the professor who deducts the most house points."
His voice trembled as he spoke, and combined with the increasingly chilly environment, the faces of the young wizards turned much paler.
Amidst a tension that felt artificially manufactured,
they arrived at the Potions classroom.
It was an underground classroom, several degrees colder than the castle above.
Even in the daytime, not much sunlight reached this place,
relying entirely on floating candles for illumination.
Glass jars were lined up along the walls, filled with various animal specimens.
Sean chose a seat not far from these specimens; turning his head, he could still see a bat spleen.
It was an ingredient for magical potions, used to make Swelling Solution.
Just as he sat down, a boy with dimples sat beside him.
"Sean, I knew you’d come early."
Justin’s face was filled with a warm smile as he took his glass vials out of his bag and placed them neatly on the desk.
Michael, who had been trying to sit next to Sean, widened his eyes and looked again in disbelief
"Is this a hallucination? When did he get here?"
He then muttered to himself and found a random seat.
Soon, the students had all arrived. Perhaps because of the cold environment, or perhaps because of the terrifying legends surrounding Professor Snape, not a single young wizard tried to shout or make noise.
In the midst of the silence,
"Bang—"
A loud noise came from the dungeon door. A sallow-skinned man with a hooked nose strode into the classroom.
His cloak was made of a flowing material that billowed like the wings of a black bat.
In a few swift, precise, and crisp movements, he stepped onto the podium.
"Listen—"
His voice was cold and low.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class...
As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making.
However, for those select few who possess the predisposition,
I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses.
I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory...
There is only one condition! That you are not the kind of dunderheads I usually have to deal with!"
His voice was gloomy and powerful, quickly subduing the entire room.
"Hannah Abbott! Tell me, how should slugs be handled!"
His gaze was sharp, sweeping toward the little witch like a storm.
Stared at by such eyes, the little witch with pigtails spoke with a trembling voice
"Stewed, Professor."
Hannah had clearly read the textbook in advance, even though this was only the content of the first chapter,
so she luckily escaped unscathed.
"Sit down!"
Snape’s expression did not improve.
"Sean Green, tell me, how would you handle horned slugs?"
He leaned forward slightly, blocking the candlelight.
"Stew them for a longer time, about three minutes, Professor."
Sean answered immediately.
"Not bad,"
Snape swept away in an instant.
"Wayne Hopkins! What is a bezoar?"
He loomed over Wayne like a black cloud. The short-haired wizard’s voice sounded as if it were being squeezed out
"I don't know, Professor."
"If your troll-like brain were still functioning, you would know that a bezoar is a solid substance taken from the stomach of a goat and can act as an antidote to most poisons."
Snape’s death stare remained fixed on Wayne, and the short-haired wizard began to tremble.
"Sit down! Ten points from Hufflepuff, for your classmate Wayne’s empty head!"
He scanned the room; no one dared to meet his eyes.
"The rest of you, why aren't you writing this down!"
In the oppressive atmosphere, the young wizards scribbled furiously, as if they could escape the storm stirred up by Professor Snape,
while Professor Snape’s deadly roll call continued.
"Ernie Macmillan!"
...
He was exactly like a ruthless house-point-deducting machine. By the time the questioning session ended,
Ravenclaw had already lost six points, and Hufflepuff had lost a full twelve.
This naturally led to a conjecture in Sean’s mind
Slytherin’s six-year winning streak seemed... inseparable from Professor Snape’s efforts.
In the original story, Professor Snape even memorized every student's name to make deducting house points more convenient.
Professor Snape, he really is...
The next words from Professor Snape made Sean listen intently.
"Listen carefully. If anyone dares to change the potion recipe at will or add or subtract steps without permission—"
Professor Snape scanned every face gloomily, ensuring no one dared to be the least bit distracted.
Then he began to teach the steps for the Boil-Cure Potion, a simple remedy for boils.
The cauldron in front of him steamed, and within a few minutes, it bubbled, turning into a thick, dark green potion.
"I don't expect any of you to succeed quickly, I only hope that certain idiots don't create something dangerous—
What are you waiting for? Get into pairs and start!"
Justin’s face turned pale. He feigned calmness and began to follow the steps.
Sean wasn't doing much better, not because of the low pressure brought by Professor Snape, but because of his nervousness regarding his unknown talent for potions.
"Slugs, dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, porcupine quills...
Sean, this is correct, right?"
Justin watched as Sean laid out the ingredients, asking with lingering fear. Seeing the other boy’s calm face, he felt much more at ease himself.
"Yeah."
Sean nodded, then continued to process the ingredients according to the standards in the book.
"Let’s follow the steps. We’ll process the slugs first."
Justin understood immediately and began to light the cauldron.
The book said the cauldron needed to be preheated.
"Use my cauldron?"
Justin asked Sean softly.
Sean looked at Justin’s silver cauldron and nodded.
The quality of the cauldron wouldn't drastically affect the quality of the potion, but Justin’s silver cauldron was indeed much better than the third-tier brass one Sean had gritted his teeth to buy.
It could provide some success rate, even if only psychologically.
Having a hidden rich kid sitting next to you isn't bad at all,
Sean thought.
(End of chapter)