A pleasant breakfast came to an end, and everyone's mood instantly sank. Because next on the schedule was the class everyone feared most: Potions.
Surrounded by a protective circle of Hufflepuff first-years, Tom made it to the Potions classroom—also located deep in the castle's dungeons—without any trouble.
Though it was underground just like the Hufflepuff common room, the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. Instead of cozy and warm, the air here was chilly and damp.
"Tom, look—that's the entrance to the Slytherin common room. I heard their password is something like 'pure-blood' or 'glory,' stuff like that!"
Hannah whispered while they walked:
"Our common room is right next to the kitchens, and theirs is right behind the Potions classroom."
Honestly, even though Tom's week in the hospital had made him miss the first week of lessons, it also meant he avoided the classic Hogwarts first-year problem of getting hopelessly lost.
After a full week of exploring, the other new students had already figured out how to reach every floor and every visible classroom.
And as Hufflepuff's unofficial mascot, Tom couldn't even go to the bathroom without a handful of eager classmates "coincidentally" heading the same way and offering to escort him.
Of course, even without help, Tom would never get lost in Hogwarts.
Forget his weird, ghost-like "shadow teleport" ability—just the fact that he could freely enter paintings meant he'd never lose his way.
As Lady Marguerite had explained, unless it was somewhere special like the Headmaster's office, most paintings in Hogwarts were connected and allowed free travel as long as their inhabitants agreed.
But none of that mattered right now, because he was about to face the one professor who managed to look down on every house equally—yes, even Slytherin's own: Severus Snape.
The moment the Hufflepuffs stepped into the Potions classroom, every laughing, chattering badger froze. It was like someone had hit them all with a silent Silencio charm. They sat down instantly, backs straight, mouths shut.
The Ravenclaws who arrived next reacted exactly the same.
Snape hadn't even arrived yet, and still, the invisible pressure was already crushing the entire room—everyone except Tom.
"Is Snape seriously this scary? Two whole houses don't even dare breathe…"
Tom muttered internally as he watched the terrified students.
"BANG!"
At exactly nine o'clock, the classroom door slammed open. Snape swept inside, perfectly on time.
He wore his usual billowing black robes, his greasy black hair hung around his face, and his expression was as dark as ever—although the heavy black circles under his eyes were… impressive, even for him.
"Meow—" (pfft~)
Tom couldn't help it. Seeing a man dressed head-to-toe in black, with even his eye sockets looking black, made him snicker.
Luckily, a cat's vocalizations didn't translate into human language, so to everyone else, it sounded like a normal meow. Snape didn't realize Tom was laughing at him.
But in the dead-silent classroom, the sound rang out like a bell.
Instantly, about eighty percent of the room turned to stare at Tom—including Snape.
Everyone braced for the catastrophe.
But instead of exploding at him, Snape merely shot him a faint glance, then looked away—as if nothing had happened—and walked to the front of the room to pick up the attendance roll.
This alone shocked the entire class.
Even so, Snape wasn't quite as calm as he appeared. Especially when he reached the name "Tom Lovegood." He paused—just like he had the week before when reading out Harry Potter's name.
But this time, he didn't say anything.
No insults.
No harsh commentary.
Not even the usual sneer.
He just gave Tom a long, unreadable look and moved on.
When roll call ended, he swept his gaze across the room and spoke in that cold, silky voice:
"Although I already said this last week, I will repeat it since we have a new student:
Potion-making is a precise science. You will not be waving your wands or chanting spells. Here, there is only one task: follow every step I give you—exactly—and produce a proper potion."
He paused, robes rippling slightly:
"As for 'improving' or creating your own potions… I sincerely hope none of you are foolish enough to think mastering a few basics makes you geniuses."
"(・∀・)?"
Tom blinked.
Was this really Snape? The same Snape who insulted students for fun? Since when did he start sounding… reasonable?
Even compared to the books, his introduction felt unusually gentle.
The other students clearly noticed it too. Their confused stares practically screamed:
Where's the Snape who shredded us alive last week??
Who replaced him with this… functional adult??
Still, nobody was complaining.
After all—who actually likes being yelled at?
So the class continued, and strangely enough, Snape didn't target a single student during the entire theory portion. His voice stayed icy, but he was… almost civil.
Unfortunately, the peace didn't last.
Because theory was over.
And it was time for hands-on brewing.
And no matter how high Snape's tolerance might have risen, watching dozens of first-years fumble through ingredient prep, ignore his instructions, stir clockwise instead of counterclockwise, mix three turns into five, or randomly change ingredient order…
His patience finally cracked.
"Is your brain stuffed full of troll snot? I said counterclockwise—counterclockwise! Hufflepuff, minus one point!"
"Are you an idiot? Ravenclaw must be cursed to have a student like you! I just said it—three turns. Three!
Ravenclaw, minus one!"
"Did I say to add the ingredients in that order? Even pigs raised by Muggles listen better than you! At least they understand following instructions! Ravenclaw, minus one more!"
…
The classroom erupted with cold fury, scathing insults, and point deductions.
Then he arrived at Tom's workstation.
A vein visibly throbbed at Snape's temple.
Because Tom…
ignored every single instruction.
He changed the ingredient prep.
He changed the order.
He changed the stirring direction.
He even changed the number of rotations.
Not one step matched the standard instructions.
Meanwhile, poor Hannah stood beside him, hands frozen in panic, wanting to help but having absolutely no idea how.
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