Snape stared fixedly at the boy—especially at those emerald-green eyes.
He couldn't help drifting for a moment. Those eyes were far too familiar; they had appeared in his dreams countless times. But every time he woke, the happy memories vanished along with his tears.
Those beautiful green irises were like a doorway, and through them he seemed to see her again.
It was as if Lily were still there, sitting on a stool like she used to, that lovely deep-red hair of hers fluttering in the breeze. Sometimes a few strands would brush against his cheek, carrying that faint, girlish scent.
He thought of that one morning, just as the sun was rising. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a pair of bright green ones.
Lily had hastily yanked the blanket up over his face. "Sev, you're awake."
"Mm. Did you sleep well?"
"Uh…" Lily had looked adorably shy. "I had a dream."
"What kind of dream?"
He'd toyed with the hair spilling out from under the blanket, winding those soft, deep-red strands around his fingers.
"…I dreamed you were holding me… and asking if I'd marry you…"
Snape felt his eyes grow wet. Regret and pain tangled in his chest, each strand turned into a needle stabbing into his flesh—but the ache in his soul was far worse than any of that.
So many times he'd asked himself: if, back then, he had just confessed, dropped to one knee and proposed, would everything have turned out differently?
He tore his gaze away, greedy to find more traces of Lily on that young, tender face.
But… that messy black hair—damned hallmark of the Potter family.
That thin face and lanky frame, the tall build—just like that damned James.
Damn it. Damn it!
Aside from those beautiful eyes, this child didn't resemble Lily at all!
Snape's heart was full of pain and fury, twisting his expression more and more.
The Potions classroom was silent as a grave. The young witches and wizards trembled in their seats, not daring to move—not even the Slytherins.
Every student sneaked glances at Harry, wanting to see whether the savior of the wizarding world could answer this question.
Harry keenly sensed the changes in Snape's emotions and the way Snape's gaze lingered on his eyes, brimming with longing.
It seemed Hagrid had been right: his eyes were like his mum's, and everything else like his dad's.
Harry couldn't help quietly complaining to himself: Ron had called it. Only his dad could have stolen his mum away from Snape and created this mess of feelings in the man.
Harry ran quickly through his potions knowledge and answered easily:
"The Draught of Living Death—a very powerful sleeping potion.
I accidentally discovered that if you repeatedly cast a Healing Charm on a mandrake, and then add its leaves and stems at the final step to a nearly completed Draught of Living Death, you'll get a potent Life Potion.
The Life Potion's healing power depends on the strength of the Healing Charms cast on the mandrake, and it stacks all of those healing effects together.
I suspect that if a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore were to cast Healing Charms on it for a full day or more, the potion might even be able to regrow severed limbs."
When Harry finished speaking, the classroom was still dead silent. Even Snape stood frozen, staring at him in disbelief.
But unlike before, the silence didn't come from fear. This time, it came from pure shock.
Even the Muggle-born students could tell how valuable a Life Potion with that kind of healing power would be from Harry's description alone.
If its effects were really as strong as Harry claimed, its value might rival Felix Felicis.
The Slytherins from ancient pure-blood families understood that value even more clearly.
To put it bluntly, if this were true, Harry could become richer than the vast majority of pure-blood families on the strength of the Life Potion patent alone.
Every student stared at Harry in stunned silence. So this was the savior?
That was ridiculous.
Snape was silent for a long time. Once again, he seemed to see Lily in Harry.
Lily had been extraordinarily gifted at Potions—even more dazzling than he was. She'd become a potions master at a very young age.
He himself had only caught up step by step by studying the notes she left behind.
It seemed this child had inherited not only those beautiful eyes, but also Lily's talent for Potions.
Snape's expression softened considerably. "How did you learn the method for making this healing potion?"
"I discovered it by accident while self-studying Potions over the summer."
Snape drew a deep breath, hesitation flickering across his face before he finally sighed.
"Harry Potter, come to my office after this Potions lesson. Now for my second question: if I told you to fetch me a bezoar, where would you look?"
Snape watched Harry with a glimmer of expectation, trying to gauge his talent for Potions and secretly hoping he had more discoveries up his sleeve.
"A bezoar is a stone taken from a goat's stomach. It has very powerful antidote properties," Harry replied fluently.
Snape's expression grew even gentler. "Potter, then tell me—what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They're the same plant—aconite. I've studied it too.
Aconite has strong anti-curse properties. If you crush it and grind it into a fine powder, then combine it with powdered mistletoe that's at least thirty years old and the juice of unripe belladonna berries…
If you then simmer the mixture over a low flame until all the liquid evaporates, the remaining powder can be combined with roses, and the essence pressed from that will yield a potion with resistance to Dark magic.
Taken internally, it drives out curses. Sprinkled over the body, it temporarily increases one's resistance to Dark magic. I've named it the Resistance Potion."
Once again, the class fell into a stunned silence—and Snape right along with them.
He'd indulged a tiny sliver of hope that Harry might have some other discovery. He hadn't expected him to actually have one.
There was no doubt that the Resistance Potion was extremely valuable as well. Compared to the Life Potion, it was easier to brew and might well become a standard potion for Aurors in the future.
A potion like this, one the Ministry could build entire procedures around, would absolutely rake in mountains of gold.
Just these two newly invented potions would be enough to get a wizard called a potions master.
Could it be that Harry, not even twelve years old and only just starting his first year, was about to become a potions master already?
His gift was even more terrifying than Lily's.
Snape's feelings toward Harry were a tangled knot, but right now, his affection—fed by Harry's talent—temporarily outweighed everything else.
Normally he never bothered to hide his favoritism toward Slytherin, yet he actually forced out a gentle expression now.
"Very good. For Harry Potter's discovery of new potions, five points to Gryffindor."
Hermione was the first to snap out of it. She broke into enthusiastic applause, her big eyes shining as she looked at Harry.
Ron followed right after, and then all the other students joined in.
At least in the realm of Potions, the savior of the wizarding world had completely won them over.
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