"Potter, where did you find this information? I don't recall it being in your textbook."
Snape's rigid expression softened just a little. At least he's not as idiotic as his father.
"Dudley told me," Harry answered honestly.
Snape nodded thoughtfully, his gaze leaving Harry for the first time and settling on Dudley. "Then, Dursley, do you have anything to add to what Potter said? Please answer the first two questions."
"The powdered root of asphodel and wormwood combined make a very powerful sleeping draught, the Draught of Living Death. And a bezoar is a stone from a goat's stomach that has a powerful ability to counteract poisons."
These questions were child's play for Dudley.
"Very good. Two points to Slytherin."
Snape actually looked pleased.
Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat. She'd been raising her hand for ages, but Snape hadn't called on her, and now he was giving Dudley two free points. The gap between the houses was growing even wider.
"You will work in pairs. For our first lesson, we will make a very simple potion—the Boil Cure Potion."
To be honest, the Boil Cure Potion isn't simple at all. For a first-year textbook, it's actually quite tricky. By the book, the first class should have only been a simple introduction to the subject of Potions.
But Snape clearly didn't see it that way. He didn't want to just teach the students theory. Getting their hands dirty was the best way to learn. After a quick demonstration at the front of the room, he glided between the pairs, occasionally offering advice and pointing out mistakes as they weighed dried nettles and crushed snake fangs.
In his own way, Snape was a very responsible teacher. He could always pinpoint exactly what the students were doing wrong. As long as they followed his instructions, they would successfully brew their potions.
"You mindless oaf, even the gnomes next door are more clever than you."
"How many times have I told you? The porcupine quills go in last! Do you have a bezoar for a brain like a troll?"
"If I were you, I'd dig a hole and bury my head so no one would know it was empty."
Of course, all of this came with a prerequisite: you had to endure his venom. If you made him repeat himself a second time, Snape's insults would become pure art. He had a way of cutting people down that left Dudley in awe. Many students were so insulted they became completely withdrawn. Almost everyone received his criticism, with only a few exceptions.
Hermione was one of them.
Hermione's Potions talent was incredibly strong. As Dudley would put it, she was the second most talented student he'd ever seen—though he hadn't seen many students brew potions before this. But that didn't diminish her skill. She finished her potion just a moment after Dudley.
Snape looked at the potion she'd made. He neither praised nor belittled it, simply saying a curt "Adequate" before walking away. This left Hermione seething, as she'd been hoping for some points.
In truth, the fact that Snape didn't launch into a rant meant that Hermione had done a great job, just not a perfect one. To earn praise from a Potions Master like Snape, merely completing the potion wasn't enough.
Next, Snape came to Dudley's cauldron and picked up the completed potion on the table, examining it carefully.
"Perfect Boil Cure Potion."
It was the first time Dudley had brewed a perfect potion, and a completely new one at that. Part of it was that the potion was relatively simple for him, and the other part was thanks to Snape's teaching. The knowledge of a Potions Master, even just a little bit, was incredibly useful. The credit also went to Dudley's "data eye," which gave him a sort of magical insight and allowed him to control the heat with perfect precision.
The potion was a perfect, clear color.
Snape looked at the potion and fell into a deep silence. How long had it been since he'd seen a potion this perfect? The last time was with Lily—he had brewed it with her.
It was the only happy memory he had left.
He had always hoped that Lily's son would be the one to produce such a potion. It was an unexpected surprise for it to come from someone else, though still related to Lily.
Lily's sister's child… Petunia's child.
Snape knew Petunia. He and the Evans family had been neighbors, and Evans was both Petunia and Lily's maiden name.
He caressed the small crystal vial in his hand, his emotions a complicated mix. The vacant look in his eyes rippled with a faint wave of feeling. In a daze, he seemed to see that little Gryffindor girl, Granger, secretly showing her teeth at Petunia's boy. And Petunia's boy, in return, was pinching her cheek.
Looking at them, he felt time had gone back twenty years. It was exactly like it was then—a young wizard and a young witch, himself and Lily.
But he knew he could never go back.
If either Dudley or Hermione had Lily's emerald green eyes, it would have been a killing blow to Snape's heart. But Dudley had inherited Petunia's blue-green eyes, and Hermione's were a pure brown.
Lost in his memories, Snape held Dudley's potion, standing perfectly still for a full three minutes. The students were curious. Was the potion Dudley made so good that the professor couldn't bear to put it down? Or was it so awful that he was trying to figure out how to insult him?
If any of the older Slytherins had been there, they would have found it strange that their Head of House hadn't insulted a Gryffindor for a full three minutes.
Suddenly, a loud explosion broke the silence. A wave of acidic green smoke poured out, hissing and smelling of rotten eggs. It was Seamus. The boy had added something to his cauldron that caused the potion to explode, warping his cauldron and splattering corrosive liquid everywhere. Many students' robes and shoes were burned through. The worst part was that Neville got drenched, his body instantly covered in angry boils. He cried out in pain while Seamus, seeing his own mess, just ran off.
"Are you a brainless gnome?!" Snape snapped out of his trance. He calmly put the potion away, waved his wand, and vanished the spilt liquid. Then he began to roar at Seamus.
"Not only did you add the porcupine quills early, you didn't pay attention to the temperature! How many times have I told you this today?! I should crack your head open and see if you have bezoars for brains!"
"And you, Potter! Why didn't you stop him?! For that, Gryffindor loses one point!"
"You truly are the worst students I have ever taught."
Just then, the class ended.
"Your homework for today is to write a four-inch essay on the Boil Cure Potion. I expect to be satisfied with your answers next class."
Snape, of course, didn't forget to assign homework, then paused.
"Dursley, stay. The rest of you may leave."
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