"Such a simple task doesn't even deserve to be called potion-making. How many points do you want to award? Mr. Alexander, when did your judgment in potion-making become so poor?!"
Snape's voice was sharp, like a wolf defending its territory.
His dark, penetrating eyes were fixed on Devreau.
"Professor, that's not what I meant," Devreau replied calmly.
He wasn't the least bit intimidated by Snape's menacing aura.
In fact, after living with him for over a year, he'd become almost immune to it.
Situations like this were nothing new.
"I mean, you forgot to award Neville points."
Devreau placed a firm hand on the shoulder of the sturdy young boy beside him—only to feel a slight tremble.
Snape's gaze shifted to Neville.
The poor boy's face was bright red, his whole body trembling.
He looked like he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the desk.
The surrounding students turned their attention to Neville as well.
"Neville helped me organize the herbs. He's extremely efficient with processing. With his help, I was able to finish brewing so quickly," Devreau explained with clarity and conviction.
And it was true.
Earlier, when Neville had almost thrown a porcupine quill into the cauldron prematurely, Devreau had stopped him just in time.
Had he not intervened, the unstable potion might have exploded.
That intervention helped calm Neville's nerves, and with renewed focus, he sorted the ingredients with remarkable precision.
His calm, organized demeanor impressed even Devreau.
For the first time, Devreau seriously examined Neville's status screen:
[Name: Neville Longbottom]
[Age: 11]
[Spell Library: None]
[Traits: Herbal Talent (Purple), Brave Heart (Purple), Magical Ability (Blue)]
[Herbal Talent (Purple): Exceptionally gifted in Herbology. Possesses an innate ability to recognize and understand magical plants. Has the potential to make significant contributions to Herbological studies.**
[Brave Heart (Purple): Bravery is the foundation of your character. When your boundaries are crossed, you rise with courage and the charisma of a natural leader.**
[Magical Ability (Blue): Has potential to become a powerful wizard.**
What a strong set of traits!
Two purple attributes? That was rare.
Devreau realized he had completely underestimated Neville.
When they first met on the train, Neville had been crying, which gave Devreau a negative first impression.
He had dismissed him too easily—completely overlooking this future Gryffindor Sword Saint.
Now, the [Brave Heart] trait especially caught Devreau's attention.
It was a perfect match for Gryffindor.
If Neville were to one day wield the Gryffindor Sword, this trait might prove crucial.
He added the trait to his internal "shopping cart," calculating how he might convince Dumbledore to lend him the Sorting Hat someday.
"Neville really helped me a lot," Devreau pressed. "I believe it's only fair to award him points."
Snape's eyes narrowed, locking once again onto Neville.
Neville could feel that snake-like gaze.
His head dropped so low it nearly vanished into his robe.
But to everyone's surprise, including the Slytherins, Devreau was standing his ground.
Even Gryffindors looked at him with admiration.
They all knew how much courage it took for a Slytherin to stand up to Snape—for the sake of a Gryffindor, no less.
This was unheard of.
From the corner of his eye, Devreau even saw Ron giving him a discreet thumbs-up.
Snape turned his attention back to Devreau.
"Mr. Alexander. Is that really so?"
Devreau stood straight, chest puffed out, and looked Snape directly in the eyes.
"Absolutely, Professor."
Snape's scowl deepened.
He barely moved his lips as he muttered through gritted teeth:
"Gryffindor gains one point."
The room erupted in silent excitement.
The Gryffindors looked like they'd won the Quidditch Cup.
Everyone was grinning from ear to ear.
They had just gotten points from Snape—a feat no Gryffindor had accomplished in the past week!
Immediately, Devreau's reputation soared.
He wasn't just a Slytherin anymore.
He was a diplomatic envoy bridging the ancient divide between Slytherin and Gryffindor!
He turned to Neville and patted him on the shoulder.
"Neville, you earned a point for Gryffindor!"
Neville looked up.
His face was still red, but he was beaming with pride.
This was the first time he had won points for his house.
The joy on his face said everything.
But celebrations were short-lived.
Snape strode over to their workstation, his face like thunder.
He examined the leftover materials and spoke with a biting tone:
"Longbottom! What are these leftover ingredients for? Are you planning to sneak them back to your dorm?"
Neville froze.
His smile vanished.
His face turned pale.
Devreau was just about to explain when Snape cut him off.
"For your wasteful behavior—Gryffindor loses three points! And you, Alexander—sit down!"
Devreau clenched his jaw but obeyed.
Snape wasn't in a mood to be reasoned with.
It was smarter not to provoke him further.
But Snape wasn't done.
He turned sharply toward Harry and Ron.
"Potter! Weasley! What were those gestures just now?"
With eerie swiftness, Snape glided over to them, robes billowing.
"Or do you think class is a joke? For your disrespect—Gryffindor loses another point!"
His voice sliced through the air like a whip.
Snape's eyes swept over the classroom.
"What are you all staring at?! Haven't you finished your potions?!"
Heads snapped downward.
Everyone resumed working, trying to become invisible.
Devreau sighed quietly.
There was no reasoning with Snape in this mood.
He reached out and gently patted Neville's back.
Poor kid.
He had just earned his first point—only to lose it, and two more.
Devreau could only offer his deepest sympathy.
But Neville surprised him again.
He turned back with a tearful smile, fighting to hold back his emotions.
And just then—chaos struck.
A puff of sour green smoke erupted from a nearby cauldron.
A loud hissing noise echoed across the room.
"Ahhh!!!"
Everyone turned sharply toward the commotion.
Malfoy was drenched in a potion, his arms and legs breaking out into swollen red scabs.
He howled in pain.
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