Professor Snape shared Professor McGonagall's ability to silence a room full of students with just a single glance. Their styles, however, were completely different. Professor McGonagall's manner was stern and imposing, rooted in her impartial authority. Snape, on the other hand, employed a different approach. Standing in the shadows with his fingers lightly gripping the parchment, his voice drawled out "Harry Potter," the sound seeming to ooze from between his teeth. It inevitably brought a snake to mind.
Snape surveyed the terrified expressions of the first years. He made no effort to conceal his nature, his dead black eyes remaining fixed on Harry. "Yes, yes. The Boy Who Lived, the savior of the wizarding world. A celebrity." Sarcasm dripped from his every word.
Harry stiffened. He felt confused and vaguely resentful. Then he heard Snape call Warren's name.
"Ah, Warren Weasley. The famous Potions prodigy. Another celebrity."
Warren stood and bowed. "Thank you for the compliment, Professor."
Harry envied his unflappable nature. Not everyone had the nerve to ignore a snake's venomous fangs.
Snape snorted. To Harry's relief, his gaze finally shifted away. He swiftly finished the roll call before gliding through the classroom like a wraith.
"Perhaps some of you do not believe that potion-making is a form of magic. I do not expect the feeble minds inside your thick skulls to immediately grasp the beauty of this discipline, to understand the wonders of a simmering cauldron, the potions that can enchant the mind and beguile the senses..."
His slow, deliberate voice echoed through the silent dungeon. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Suddenly, the voice was right in Harry's ear, making him jump.
"Harry Potter. Our famous celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
What? Harry glanced at Ron. Ron looked just as baffled. Harry had, of course, only skimmed his Potions textbook. But who memorized material they hadn't even covered in class yet? Well, except for Hermione. Her hand shot straight up as Warren tried to push it back down. Behind them, Malfoy and his cronies snickered.
"I don't know, Professor," Harry said weakly.
Snape's long face loomed over him. "You do not know? Hmph. It seems fame is not everything, Mr. Potter. Very well, let us try again..."
Humiliated, Harry's mind went blank. He blurted out without thinking, "Professor, why don't you ask Hermione? She would know for sure. Or ask Warren? He's been brewing potions since he was eight. He's improved loads of recipes. Ron showed me the articles in the papers. I think he's probably better than you."
After letting it all out, Harry felt a surge of relief. Ron had been going on and on about Warren's potions prowess all week. Harry genuinely thought Warren might be better than Snape.
A deathly silence descended upon the dungeon. Everyone watched as Snape's expression froze. A snicker rang out from Malfoy and his cronies. That suicidal outburst earned matching cold stares from both Warren and Snape. Malfoy snapped his mouth shut.
Snape shifted his gaze to Warren, his face unreadable. "It seems Mr. Weasley is highly regarded by his classmates."
Warren offered his customary smile. "Just a few trifling accomplishments, Professor. Honestly, my main motivation for coming to Hogwarts was to study Potions under your tutelage. I also wanted to express my gratitude. When some members of the Potioneers' Association were criticizing my ideas, you published a paper in my defense."
The Gryffindors and Slytherins wondered if the suffocating silence had made them hallucinate. They could have sworn they caught a fleeting glimpse of a smile on Professor Snape's face. Regardless, the atmosphere in the classroom undeniably relaxed.
Snape asked no further questions. Before beginning his lecture, however, he could not resist another jab at Harry. "Mr. Potter, I did not need to ask Mr. Weasley such a simple question. Do you know why? Because he has earned his reputation. Yours, on the other hand... tsk. Gryffindor loses two points."
Harry felt like his face was on fire. Warren let out a silent sigh. The tangled mess of emotions between Harry and Snape was a veritable Gordian knot. Harry was clearly bewildered, having no idea why Snape harbored such animosity toward him. As for Snape, how excruciating must it be to gaze into the eyes of the woman he loved, only to see them set in the face of the man he hated most? It was a situation far too complex for any outsider to meddle in.
Soon enough, everyone realized that Snape had only given Harry a temporary reprieve. Throughout the lecture, he continued to return to Harry's desk, peppering the boy with relentless questions.
This made the lesson miserable for anyone sitting near Harry. They could not afford to let their attention wander, and a few unlucky souls found themselves caught in the crossfire. The practical portion of the class proved even worse. Snape seemed determined to plant himself permanently by Harry's desk, finding fault with every move Harry and his neighbors made.
"Longbottom, what exactly is inside that thick skull of yours? Flour and water? Does your brain turn to porridge every time you turn your head?"
"I have heard of you, Finnigan. You can make anything explode. But if you so much as breathe wrong in my potions classroom, I will teach you the true meaning of punishment."
Occasionally, he would glide over to Warren and simply watch in silence, without a single snide remark. It was not simply because he favored Slytherin, although that was true, but rather because Warren's technique was flawless. Hermione, his partner, noticed he was handling ingredients differently from the textbook.
They were brewing a Cure for Boils, which was a very basic potion. Warren had brewed this long ago. Still, he did not grow complacent just because the task was simple. He worked with focused precision, explaining the process to Hermione as he went. Potions are not governed by the strict chemical laws of Muggle science. Muggles require precise measurements for their ingredients. But with potions, we are not truly brewing a liquid. We are brewing a bit of mysticism; we are brewing a spell.
Have you noticed? The textbook recipes are very vague regarding quantities. There are no grams or milliliters. Just drops, pinches, or whole creatures. Yet the things Muggles consider unimportant, like stirring, are dictated strictly down to the exact number of stirs. Think of the whole process as a kind of ritual, Hermione. It is a ritual designed to invoke the mystical and construct the spell.