The Potion Class

"Then we..."

"Everyone is Slytherin after all, we are still roommates, I don't think we need to be so afraid of him..."

"Yes, according to those in Gryffindor, Artel is a very elegant gentleman, and Professor McGonagall likes him very much."

Goyle and Crabbe were talking one after another. Malfoy wanted to say he was just a little Muggle wizard, but he was afraid Artel would find out, so he kept quiet.

"Forget it, let's go to bed too. At least one thing he said is right. Tomorrow's potions class will be taught by Professor Snape."

Malfoy and the others packed up and prepared to go to bed. Although they were still somewhat afraid of Artel, it wasn't as intense as before.

The next morning, Artel woke up, and the three of them greeted him cautiously. Artel responded with a smile. His principle was simple: don't provoke trouble unless provoked.

There was a Potions class that morning, with Gryffindor and Slytherin students together. Artel and Hermione finished their meal and left the Great Hall together. The other students had become accustomed to their companionship, and some even speculated about their relationship.

Hermione didn't bother to explain, and Artel didn't care about rumors.

He was used to solitude, but having Hermione as a companion was rather pleasant, especially since she was a prettier version of Hermione.

The Potions classroom was located in the dungeons of Hogwarts. It was dimly lit and had a chilling atmosphere. Shelves lined with glass bottles filled with unsettling concoctions flanked the classroom.

This eerie ambiance had a way of making people feel tense, and there were rumors in the school about Professor Snape's eccentric temperament, further adding to the unease of the students.

Ten minutes before the class, all the students were seated in the classroom. Even though Snape was not present, none dared to speak loudly.

Hermione, too, unconsciously lowered her voice in this tense atmosphere, speaking softly to Artel.

Class was about to begin when Snape entered the classroom punctually. He wore his customary black robe, a neutral expression on his face, and eyes as dark and cold as ever.

As he scanned the students in the classroom, Snape pulled out a booklet and began calling the roll. When he reached Harry Potter's name, Snape paused, casting an indifferent but piercing gaze upon him, an unmistakable air of disdain present.

Artel couldn't help but be intrigued. It was clear that Snape held strong feelings about Harry, but he concealed them well. This explained why Harry had always seen Snape as a villain.

After roll call, Snape began his introductory remarks.

"With me, you will learn the precise science and exacting craftsmanship of potion-making. Some of you may scoff at the idea, believing that potion-making is not true magic..."

"I don't expect you to fully comprehend it..."

"But for the few who are genuinely gifted, those who truly apply themselves, I can teach you the art of mental spellcasting, the art of beguiling the senses, the art of preserving fame, concocting glory, and even... defying death."

Snape's words had a rhythmic quality to them, and the young witches and wizards below fell silent, hanging on his every word.

Malfoy couldn't help but smile, thinking that Snape was referring to him. However, upon closer inspection, he realized that Snape's eyes were fixed on Artel.

On the other side of the classroom, Harry was diligently taking notes, trying his best to jot down Snape's lecture, even though it often sounded like nonsense.

Snape's intense gaze shifted from Artel to Harry. He paused for a moment, took a step closer, and suddenly addressed Harry with a soft voice.

"Mr. Potter, the famous celebrity."

Snape's voice had a whispering quality to it, and his eyes bore into Harry's, almost as if they were trying to read his soul. After a few seconds of silence, he posed a peculiar question.

"Tell me, How would you prepare a Wiggenweld Potion?"

Under Snape's intense scrutiny, Harry felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He shook his head, unable to provide an answer.

Hermione, sitting next to Artel, eagerly raised her hand, nearly overshadowing Artel.

"You don't know? Let's try another question then. Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Once again, Harry shook his head, wanting nothing more than to escape this nerve-wracking classroom.

He could feel the cold, pitiful gaze of Snape, the sneering disdain of Malfoy, and it made him uncomfortable.

Hermione's hand remained up, her eyes shining with excitement. Seeing her enthusiastic expression, it was almost as if she were about to stand up and announce to the entire class that she knew the answer.

But Snape didn't even spare her a glance.

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Snape continued his questioning.

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