The dungeon classroom was a shadowy place, with its stone walls and dim lighting giving it an aura of mystery and foreboding. The air was thick with the smell of various potions ingredients—dried herbs, pungent roots, and the lingering scent of something acrid that tickled the back of the throat. The long tables were lined with cauldrons, scales, and rows of glass vials filled with liquids of various colors and viscosities.
Alaric entered the Potions classroom alongside his Slytherin housemates, their expressions a mix of excitement and determination. He noticed that the Gryffindors had already arrived, their red and gold ties a stark contrast to the green and silver of Slytherin. The two houses exchanged glances, the tension between them palpable even at this early stage.
Professor Snape stood at the front of the room, his dark eyes scanning the students as they took their seats. His presence was commanding, and the room fell silent as he began to speak.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," Snape intoned, his voice smooth and silky, yet carrying an underlying edge that demanded respect. "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 bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death."
Alaric's interest was piqued. Potion-making was not just a subject; it was an art form, one that required a deep understanding of magical theory and an appreciation for the finer details of the craft. He could see the potential it held—not just in terms of grades, but in the practical applications of the knowledge he could gain.
Snape's eyes fell on Alaric for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. Then, without another word, he began to take the register.
As Snape called out names, the atmosphere in the room grew tenser. The Gryffindors were clearly on edge, aware that Snape favored his own house and that they were unlikely to receive much leniency. Alaric noted this with a sense of satisfaction; it was always beneficial to know where the professor's biases lay.
"Potter," Snape called out, his tone icy.
"Here," came Harry's response, his voice firm but lacking confidence.
Snape's gaze lingered on Harry for a moment longer than necessary, and Alaric noticed a subtle narrowing of Snape's eyes, a sign of something deeper, more personal. But before Alaric could dwell on it, Snape continued down the list.
Once the register was complete, Snape began the lesson. He explained the basics of potion-making, emphasizing the importance of precision and attention to detail. The students were then instructed to brew a simple potion: a Cure for Boils.
Alaric paired up with Draco, while the other students found their own partners. As they gathered the necessary ingredients from the store cupboard, Alaric noted the various reactions of the Gryffindors. Hermione Granger was meticulous, checking and double-checking each ingredient, while Ron Weasley fumbled clumsily with his supplies, looking lost and frustrated.
Back at their table, Alaric and Draco worked in near silence, their movements synchronized as they chopped, measured, and stirred. Alaric appreciated Draco's competence; there was no need for idle chatter or unnecessary questions. They both understood the task at hand and approached it with the same level of seriousness.
As the potion simmered, releasing a soft hissing sound and a faint, herbal aroma, Alaric allowed himself a moment to observe the other students. Blaise Zabini was working with Theodore Nott, their expressions focused as they carefully followed the instructions. Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were similarly composed, their potion already showing signs of success.
In contrast, the Gryffindors were struggling. Neville Longbottom's potion was a disastrous shade of purple, bubbling dangerously as he tried in vain to correct it. Seamus Finnigan's cauldron emitted a plume of smoke, causing several nearby students to cough and move away. Even Hermione Granger, despite her careful preparation, seemed to be having difficulty getting the consistency just right.
Snape moved silently between the tables, his gaze sharp and critical. He made no secret of his disdain for the Gryffindors, pointing out their mistakes with thinly veiled contempt. When he reached Harry's table, he stopped, his expression unreadable.
"Potter," Snape said softly, "what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry hesitated, clearly unsure of the answer. "I… I don't know, sir," he admitted, his voice tense.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Fame clearly isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?"
Alaric watched the exchange with interest. Snape's animosity towards Harry was evident, though the reasons for it remained unclear. It was something Alaric intended to investigate further; understanding the dynamics at play could prove useful in the future.
By the end of the lesson, Alaric and Draco had successfully brewed their potion, the liquid in their cauldron a perfect shade of turquoise. Snape inspected it with a nod of approval, though his praise was limited to a curt "Acceptable."
As the students cleaned up their workstations, Snape handed out house points. Slytherin gained several points for their performance, while Gryffindor lost a significant number due to their multiple failures. Alaric felt a sense of satisfaction as the green hourglasses in the Great Hall filled with emeralds; every point gained brought Slytherin closer to winning the House Cup, a goal that was clearly important to Snape and, by extension, to the entire house.
As they left the dungeon, Draco turned to Alaric with a satisfied smirk. "Not a bad start, wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed," Alaric replied, his voice calm but pleased. "But this is just the beginning. We'll need to maintain this level of performance if we want to keep Slytherin at the top."
Draco nodded, his expression serious. "Agreed. But with Snape on our side, I don't see that being a problem."
Alaric didn't reply, but he couldn't help but wonder about Snape's favoritism. While it was certainly advantageous for Slytherin, it also meant that they would need to be careful not to become complacent. Snape's support was a valuable asset, but it would only take them so far. The rest would depend on their own abilities and the alliances they forged within the house.
As they made their way to their next class, Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, Alaric's mind was already racing with plans. He would need to carefully navigate the dynamics of both his house and the school as a whole. There were rivals to outmaneuver, friends to protect, and a legacy to build.
But Alaric was ready. He had spent his entire life preparing for this, and now, standing at the threshold of greatness, he was determined to seize it with both hands.