Professor Snape stood at the front of the dungeon classroom with a parchment roll in hand, calling names without so much as glancing at the young witches and wizards seated before him. His dark eyes seemed hollow, like endless tunnels carved into black stone. The room was already cold and damp beneath the castle, but somehow his presence made it feel even colder.
Then his gaze paused on a single name.
Slowly, Snape lifted his head and swept his eyes across the room until they settled on Harry Potter. Something flickered briefly across his face before disappearing behind his usual expressionless mask.
Harry Potter.
The boy with the lightning-shaped scar.
The sight of him immediately reminded Snape of James Potter. Arrogant, reckless, and always swaggering around Hogwarts as though the entire castle belonged to him. The memory stirred old resentment deep inside Snape's chest, awakening ghosts he would have preferred to leave buried.
Then he noticed Harry's eyes.
Bright green.
Exactly like Lily's.
For a fleeting moment, guilt pierced through him. Lily Evans had once been his closest friend, but because of his choices—his pride, his obsession with the Dark Arts, and his bitterness—they had drifted apart. In the end, she had died at Voldemort's hands.
The memory darkened his expression further.
"Oh?" Snape said softly, his lips curling into a faint sneer. "Look who we have here. Harry Potter. Our famous celebrity."
The sarcasm spread through the dungeon like icy mist. Several first-years instinctively pulled their robes tighter around themselves.
"He actually made it to Hogwarts."
Without waiting for a response, Snape dropped the parchment onto his desk and swept dramatically toward the front of the room. His voice barely rose above a whisper, yet every student heard him perfectly.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."
Unlike Professor McGonagall's stern authority, Snape possessed something far more intimidating. He didn't need to shout. His mere presence commanded silence.
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic at all." His gaze drifted slowly across the classroom. "I don't expect you to truly appreciate the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids flowing through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses."
His voice became even quieter.
"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death... if you aren't as big a bunch of idiots as I usually have to teach."
Sitting beside Draco Malfoy, Leo Nicholas rested his chin on one hand while watching the performance unfold. He couldn't help wondering whether Snape delivered this exact speech to every first-year class.
Probably.
Before he could continue the thought, Snape suddenly turned toward Harry.
"Potter."
Harry nearly jumped from his seat.
"If I asked you what would happen if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, what would you tell me?"
Harry's mind instantly went blank.
He had still been trying to finish writing down Snape's opening speech when the question hit him like a Bludger.
I have no idea!
Then a memory surfaced.
Over the past two days, Hermione and Draco had practically dragged him to the library. Against his will, he'd been forced to read several introductory potion books.
Asphodel...
Wormwood...
Right!
Snape watched Harry's silence with obvious disdain, clearly preparing to ridicule him.
"I know, sir!" Harry blurted out. "Asphodel and wormwood together make a very powerful sleeping potion—the Draught of Living Death."
After answering, Harry stared nervously at the professor. He was fairly sure he was correct, but Snape's expression somehow made him feel wrong anyway.
"Tsk."
Disappointment dripped from Snape's voice.
"It took you long enough to answer such a simple question. It seems fame isn't everything after all."
He completely ignored Hermione Granger's raised hand, which had been waving in the air for nearly thirty seconds.
"Let's try another one. Potter, where would you look if I asked you to fetch me a bezoar?"
Leo nearly laughed.
Snape clearly hadn't expected Harry to answer the first question correctly.
Across the room, Hermione sat perfectly upright, her hand stretched so high it seemed in danger of coming loose from her shoulder. Every inch of her practically screamed, Pick me! I know the answer!
Harry, meanwhile, had absolutely no clue what a bezoar was.
Remembering one answer had already been a miracle. He wasn't Hermione.
And he certainly wasn't Leo.
With no other choice, Harry instinctively glanced around the room in hopes that someone might silently help him.
Unfortunately, Snape caught the movement immediately.
"So," he drawled coldly, "the famous Harry Potter intends to seek assistance from his classmates rather than answer the question himself."
Then his eyes followed Harry's line of sight.
They landed directly on Leo.
Unlike everyone else, Leo was sitting comfortably with an amused smile, clearly enjoying the entire situation.
Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Oh?"
His voice became colder than the dungeon walls.
"It appears Mr. Nicholas believes he has already mastered every potion in existence. Perhaps that explains why he feels comfortable daydreaming during my lesson."
Leo blinked.
Wait.
How exactly had this become his problem?
Turning to Draco, he asked sincerely, "Was he talking to me?"
Draco spotted the dangerous look forming in Snape's eyes and immediately hissed back, "Yes, you idiot. Stand up before he starts taking points."
Realizing there was no escape, Leo calmly rose to his feet.
"Professor," he said smoothly, "I was reflecting on your question."
Snape scoffed.
"Reflecting? It looked more like sleepwalking." His eyes sharpened. "I've heard from several professors that you possess considerable talent, Mr. Nicholas. Unfortunately, talent often breeds laziness."
His expression darkened.
"The magical world is not kind to those who become complacent. Those who stop improving eventually find themselves crushed by those who continue forward."
Then he folded his arms.
"Since you were apparently considering my question so carefully, perhaps you can answer it yourself. Where does one find a bezoar?"
Leo didn't need even a second.
"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat," he answered immediately. "It's commonly used as an antidote to most poisons."
Several students turned to stare.
Even Hermione's eyes widened slightly.
Snape clearly hadn't expected such a fast response, but he wasn't about to stop there.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They're the same plant," Leo replied without hesitation. "Also known as aconite. The flowers are useful in potion-making, while the leaves are highly poisonous."
Snape's eyes narrowed further.
"Blackroot grass."
"Neutralizes magical effects when ingested. Black stems, pale flowers, and it thrives in damp soil."
"How would you brew a Cure for Boils?"
"Dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, horned slugs, and porcupine quills added at the proper stage. If brewed correctly, the potion releases pink smoke."
Silence filled the classroom.
Even the Slytherins were staring now.
Snape continued firing questions without pause, each one sharper than the last.
"Properties of moondew sap."
"It stabilizes volatile mixtures and reduces magical backlash."
"Uses for powdered bicorn horn."
"A key ingredient in Polyjuice Potion and several transformation brews."
"Difference between standard infusion timing and rotational infusion timing?"
"One follows fixed intervals. The other relies on viscosity and magical saturation levels."
Question after question came flying.
Question after question was answered instantly.
Leo responded so effortlessly that it felt less like a classroom examination and more like someone reciting facts from a book he had memorized years ago.
Draco slowly leaned back in his chair with an expression that clearly said, See? I told you he was terrifying.
Hermione looked even more shocked.
For perhaps the first time in her life, she had encountered another student whose academic performance genuinely surpassed her own.
Harry simply stared.
Ron looked equally stunned.
"Blimey..." he muttered under his breath.
Finally, Snape stopped.
The dungeon became deathly quiet.
For several long seconds, he simply stood there staring at Leo Nicholas. His expression revealed absolutely nothing, but the tension hanging over the room felt heavy enough to suffocate everyone present.
At last, Snape spoke.
"Sit down."
Leo calmly resumed his seat.
Snape turned sharply toward the blackboard, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.
"Today," he said coldly, "we will begin brewing a simple Cure for Boils. Open your textbooks to page six."
Only after the rustle of turning pages filled the dungeon did the students finally dare breathe normally again.
....
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