Snow fell silently over the brick and stone of Hogwarts Castle. Only when the snowflakes struck the window glass did they make a faint, scraping sound.
Through the corridors washed in snowy whispers, down a narrow spiral staircase, and into the underground, there was a place so quiet that even the wind never visited. The Potions classroom was located there.
That afternoon, the third years from two Houses poured into the classroom. The students chattered away, textbooks and workbooks in hand. Once they had settled behind their desks, the students in the front row began shouting, "Homework collection! Homework collection! Pass the homework forward from the back!"
Ever since Skyl had started substituting, the young wizards had both loved and hated this upper-year senior. They liked how approachable he was, but hated the demonic homework he assigned. In the thousand-year history of Hogwarts, there had never been such crooked, underhanded things as workbooks. Rumor had it that the transfer student had brought them from back home as a local specialty, perfectly suited to the constitution of students from his homeland, but for these British boys and girls, it was a brutal first taste of American test-prep hell.
Perhaps only Hermione Granger liked this kind of exam-cramming secret weapon. She often even complained that there was too little homework, and that she had not written enough to feel satisfied.
The students in the front row collected the homework and handed it all to Hermione, who counted the number of copies before placing them on the lectern.
Seeing that class time was approaching, the young wizards began whispering among themselves. Yesterday, Skyl had skipped class with impressive decisiveness, but it had made life miserable for these young wizards. The old bat had squeezed out time from his overwhelming schedule to teach them, and he had been absolutely frazzled. His face had been as fierce as a woman going through menopause, and he had transformed into a powder keg that exploded at the slightest touch. The students, who had not seen him in quite some time, were scolded bloody, thoroughly revisiting the bond between teacher and disciples.
"Skyl won't skip class again, will he?" Ron muttered quietly.
"Merlin, I really don't want to see Snape's face again. Just thinking of his eyes makes my stomach churn." Seamus was pale-faced. As a genius of explosions, no potion that fell into his hands had ever failed to cause trouble, so he was one of Snape's special targets.
Neville, his fellow sufferer beside him, felt the same lingering fear and stared straight at the classroom door.
Hermione comforted these useless men. "Skyl already came back at noon today. Stop worrying."
Time ticked away little by little. Finally, under everyone's expectant gaze, the classroom door was pushed open.
However, the one who walked in was not the transfer student Skyl, but a tall red-haired witch.
Seeing the children staring blankly at her, Lily Evans gave them a radiant smile and stood on the lectern without the slightest stage fright. She took out her wand and wrote a line of glowing words in midair, Ivanna Collins.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen. Starting today, I'll be substituting for the time being. As you can see, my name is Ivanna Collins, and I am the new teaching assistant. If there are no questions, let's begin."
Miss Know-It-All immediately raised her hand and asked, "Ms. Collins, may I ask where Skyl went?"
"He still has to substitute for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class, so he can't spare the time." Lily's gaze lingered briefly on Hermione's young face, then naturally slid away and landed on the silent, gloomy Harry Potter beside her.
The boy also happened to be examining the new assistant with a curious expression. His emerald-green eyes were like the sunlight of Godric's Hollow. Lily unconsciously drew in a breath, feeling every hair along her spine stand on end. That powerful sense of déjà vu was like a slap across the years, making her cheeks burn. The instant she saw this young wizard, Lily knew who he was.
Harry, my dear Harry, my poor son, Lily murmured in her heart. You've grown so much. But look at you. You aren't lively at all anymore. Did you meet people or things that made you sad?
Harry felt that this assistant's expression was strangely emotional, and he unconsciously frowned.
Lily turned her head away. In the next instant, she spoke as if nothing had happened. "Does anyone else have questions? No? Very well. Now, please brew a batch of Boil-Cure Potion and let me see your fundamentals."
These young wizards were not vague about it either. They paired up in twos and helped one another, setting up cauldrons and lighting fires. One student worked while the other reminded them of the steps from the side. Before long, rising steam was spreading through the air above the classroom.
Taking advantage of this time, Lily patrolled the room and pointed out mistakes in their handling. She spoke gently and pleasantly, and the students soon accepted her. Lily took the opportunity to ask around about Snape's reputation and conduct. Toward this Death Eater who had slipped into the teaching staff, she maintained a full measure of vigilance, even though the two of them had once been close friends. Once they chose separate paths, they had no choice but to regard each other as enemies.
Lily was glad Snape did not recognize her current self. That made it easier for her to secretly investigate his true face.
Faced with the new assistant's questions, the young Slytherins naturally sided with their Head of House and praised him to the skies. The Gryffindor students, though they did not dare directly denounce him, had no shortage of complaints.
Lily understood clearly and roughly guessed that Snape was the sort of irritating bad professor people hated. That was not exactly unexpected.
She also asked Harry what he thought of Snape.
"He is a good professor. Very responsible, and very skilled." Harry's answer shocked Lily. In fact, it was not only her. The students around them all looked at Harry as if they had seen a ghost, wondering how this fellow could lie through his teeth so blatantly. He was clearly the one most harshly targeted by the old bat. Could it be that Snape had cursed him senseless, and hatred had turned into love?
The potions in the cauldrons matured one after another. At this moment, however, there were still students who made mistakes. Someone added porcupine quills to the potion without extinguishing the fire first, causing the liquid to become corrosive and boil violently. If it splashed onto the skin, dense red swollen boils would grow all over.
Seeing the unpleasant, pungent green smoke rising from the cauldron at the front desk, Harry swiftly drew his wand and shouted, "[Scourgify]."
A whirlwind swept up the potion that was about to burn through the cauldron and threw it into the waste bucket in the corner of the classroom.
Lily exclaimed in surprise, "A timely response, Mr. Potter… Five points to Gryffindor!"
Seamus wrinkled his nose. He had messed up again. He was prone to mistakes whenever he got nervous, but this was first-year material, so it really should not have happened.
The new assistant was magnanimous and allowed Seamus to make another batch. Seeing that everyone else had completed the Boil-Cure Potion, she told them to brew a Shrinking Solution.
"Mr. Potter, can you tell me the ingredients needed to make a Shrinking Solution?"
"Daisy roots, figs, caterpillars, a small drop of rat bile, and a little leech juice."
"Completely accurate. Five points to Gryffindor!" Lily's eyes shone. "Can you explain the precautions?"
"Uh, the daisy roots must be cut evenly. Does that count?" Harry hesitated slightly. For him, brewing a potion like this was nearly impossible to fail, so he could not really name any particular precautions.
"Yes, that is a very good point. Everyone, write that down in your notes. In fact, when brewing Shrinking Solution, you must pay attention to the quantity of the ingredients. If the ratio is wrong, it will become toxic. Also, Gryffindor receives another… three points."
Everyone felt the scene before them was strangely familiar, with a sense of déjà vu from Snape. The only difference was that one desperately found faults to deduct points, while the other constantly showed favoritism by adding points.
Originally, the Slytherin students had thought that with Skyl absent from class, Gryffindor would not gain so many House points. Who would have thought that an even more ruthless point-awarding female assistant would arrive instead? This witch had definitely graduated from Gryffindor!
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