9

Chapter 9: Potions Class

The first-year timetable at Hogwarts was surprisingly light. For instance, on Mondays, Vader only had two morning potions classes.

After breakfast, a group of Ravenclaw first-years walked together to the underground classroom. As they descended, the air grew cooler, and some students' faces paled.

"I heard Professor Snape, who teaches Potions, is also the head of Slytherin House," Michael, walking beside Vader, initiated, trying to lighten the tense mood. "Did you spot him last night during the Sorting? The one with the black hair and hooked nose."

"Of course," Padma chimed in. "We better not get on his bad side."

The group entered the Potions classroom quietly. Glass jars lined the walls, each containing preserved animal specimens. Some timid children looked close to tears at the sight, sitting as far away from the jars as possible. Wade chose a corner seat—not out of fear of the specimens, but to avoid potential accidents caused by his classmates.

Soon after, a wave of Hufflepuff students arrived, their reactions mirroring those of the Ravenclaws. Finding Ravenclaw already settled, the Hufflepuffs dispersed to the periphery.

Two Hufflepuff students ended up near Wade's initially empty corner.

"Hi, I'm Theo Mancini, and this is Ryan Carrow," greeted the brown-haired boy to Wade. "May I ask your name?"

"Wade Gray."

"wade?" Theo raised an eyebrow. "Did you meet our professor?"

Ryan interjected, "Theo, ease up." He nodded toward the classroom entrance. "Here comes the professor."

With a dramatic swing, the classroom door burst open, revealing a man in black wizard robes. His face was stern and imposing. Many students instinctively shrank back, and the room fell silent.

Snape scanned the classroom, then consulted his roster, relieved to find everyone present for the first lesson.

"Potions is a precise discipline," Snape spoke in a low, menacing voice. "Strict procedures and exact proportions must be adhered to. Any alteration to the potion's formula, unauthorized additions or omissions of ingredients, or reckless wand-waving to cover mistakes—"

His cold gaze fixated on the Hufflepuffs in their yellow and black ties—

"I will ensure they understand the dire consequences of mishandling potions."

Theo gulped nervously, clearly affected by Snape's words. Wade sensed trouble brewing—he had chosen a corner seat to avoid distractions, yet it seemed danger lurked nearby.

As if sensing Wade's apprehension, Snape called out, without consulting his roster, "Theo Mancini!"

"Yes!" Theo jolted upright, nearly upsetting his cauldron. "Here, Professor."

"How do you deal with slugs when brewing Scabies Potion?" Snape inquired.

Several hands shot up; most were Ravenclaws.

The unfortunate news—Theo hadn't reviewed the textbook beforehand.

"I-I'm not sure, sir," Theo stammered.

"Sit down!" Snape's voice was cold. "Hufflepuff loses one point for lack of preparation. Wade Gray!"

Acknowledging the Ravenclaw beside him, Wade stood promptly. "Simmer for five minutes, sir."

"Correct," Snape acknowledged briefly before posing another question. "Michael Corner, what are nettles used for?"

Michael stumbled, "They treat inflammation, hair loss, and stop bleeding."

"Acceptable." Snape nodded, allowing Michael to sit, then turned to Hannah Abbott. Tearfully, she stood, dreading the next question.

Snape redirected, "Ryan Carrow?"

Ryan had preemptively read and prepared for this question from the textbook.

"—After extinguishing the flame, Professor," Ryan replied calmly.

Snape glanced at the book Ryan held open. "I trust you'll remember next time, instead of relying on last-minute prayers to Merlin."

Ryan remained tight-lipped as he resumed his seat, comforted by Theo's reassuring pat on his arm.

Snape's scrutiny wasn't selective—it encompassed everyone in the room. His probing questions dealt a severe blow to their confidence. As instruction began, Hufflepuff lost thirteen points, while Ravenclaw suffered a five-point deduction.

In silence, Snape directed them to prepare the Scabies Potion. Pairing them according to seating, he conjured steps on the blackboard with a wave of his wand. Students hurriedly transcribed the instructions. Wade noticed subtle variations between the board's directions and the textbook's procedures—strict adherence to the book might not yield satisfactory results.

"Sorry," whispered Theo, Wade's group partner by seating arrangement. "I didn't study the text beforehand, but I'll do my best not to hold us back."

His amber eyes conveyed sincerity, easing Wade's initial apprehension of being paired with a "slacker."

"No worries," Wade assured him. "Brewing Scabies Potion is straightforward if we follow the steps precisely."

Theo fetched herbs from the nearby shelf while Wade measured ingredients, passing a snake's fang to Theo for grinding. "You handle the ingredients; I'll manage the heat."

"Got it."

Theo donned protective dragon-hide gloves, pulverizing the snake's fang in a mortar. Meanwhile, Wade carefully boiled slugs in a cauldron, regulating the temperature with his wand.

Minutes later, Wade removed the discolored slugs for later use, refreshed the water, and reheated the cauldron, double-checking the boiling sequence. Beside him, Theo meticulously chopped dried nettles after processing the snake's fang.

Wade observed with surprise that, despite appearing clumsy, Theo handled tasks with precision, producing finely ground, impurity-free powders.

Maybe this partner isn't so bad after all, Wade thought.

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