"Hey, Terry, wake up! Time for class!"
Terry stirred, groggy, as someone called his name. Blinking, he saw his roommate Lucien's annoyingly handsome face.
"Huh? This is the dorm?"
"I remember coming back last night and smelling something sweet…"
Lucien's mouth twitched, and he quickly looked away. This kid actually remembers?
The improved version of the Sleeping Draught incense had knocked Terry out cold for the whole night. If Lucien hadn't woken him, he'd probably still be snoring. Not bad for a potion with such lasting effects, Lucien thought.
"You were probably just exhausted from yesterday's classes and passed out," Lucien said casually. "Hurry up and get ready. First class this morning is Potions with Professor Snape."
At the mention of Snape, Terry bolted upright.
The upperclassmen had warned them: of all the teachers at Hogwarts, Snape was the one you never crossed.
"Oh, right, right! I'm up! We can't be late for his class!"
Lucien watched in awe as Terry completed his morning routine—bed to clothes to washing up—in under five minutes. That's the power of Snape's reputation.
"I'm ready! Let's go!"
---
Potions Classroom
The moment the bell rang, the classroom door burst open with a bang. A tall, thin man with a prominent hooked nose strode in, his black cloak billowing like the wings of a giant bat.
A sharp, cold voice cut through the room: "In my class, there will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations."
"Personally, I don't expect most of you to grasp the subtle art of potion-making," he continued, his tone dripping with disdain. "But for the rare few with the gift…"
Snape's gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on Lucien. He remembered this student—the one who'd made history at the Sorting Ceremony, even earning a mention from Minerva McGonagall.
"I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can show you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even… stop death."
The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs sat frozen, some straightening in their seats, already captivated by the promise of such power.
Lucien, however, listened with calm detachment. Pretty inspiring speech, he thought, but fame and glory? I bet Snape's more interested in a potion to bring back the dead or undo regrets.
With a flick of Snape's wand, instructions appeared on the blackboard. "Today, you will brew Sleeping Draught Incense."
Lucien's eyebrow twitched. What a coincidence.
Snape went on, "When used, it puts witches and wizards to sleep in ten seconds. For magical creatures, depending on their size, it takes between thirty seconds and six minutes."
Lucien nodded subtly. His improved version of the Sleeping Draught was way more effective, especially on magical creatures, cutting the time significantly. Light the incense, let them doze off, and observing them will be a breeze.
After explaining the potion's effects, Snape launched into the brewing process. Lucien perked up. No matter how harsh or snarky Snape was, the man was the youngest Potions Master of their time. His lessons were a rare opportunity, one Lucien wouldn't waste.
"Moonseed must be pressed with the flat of a silver knife to extract its juice—do not slice it. Stir counterclockwise until the mixture is clear…"
Snape's mention of a small technique made Lucien's eyes light up. The old bat's got skills. Even though Lucien had already mastered the improved Sleeping Draught, Snape's methods were practical and worth noting. He scribbled notes quickly, comparing Snape's instructions to his own recipe to deepen his understanding.
"Now, begin brewing," Snape commanded.
The students sprang into action. As Lucien prepared his ingredients, a thought struck him, and he mentally checked in with his system:
"Hey, system, I need to brew five potions to pay off the recipe loan. Does the improved Sleeping Draught count as a different potion from the original?"
[No, host, that's not a loophole for repayment.]
Lucien sighed. Fine, no cheating the system. He'd just brew the improved version then. And if I borrow a finished potion loan, I use one set of ingredients but get two potions out of it. Smart.
Once his baby unicorn woke up, Lucien planned to head to the Forbidden Forest to track down five magical creatures and record their details. Having extra Sleeping Draughts as a precaution seemed like a solid plan.
"I'd like to borrow a beginner-level finished potion loan—Improved Sleeping Draught Incense."
[Loan successful. Item stored in system space. Retrieve it anytime.]
Meanwhile, Snape descended from the podium, prowling among the students to inspect their work.
"Bones, why aren't you wearing a mask? Planning to nap face-first in your cauldron?"
"Abbott, oh, stop sniveling. Sleeping Draught doesn't require little girls' tears!"
The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, experiencing their first Potions class, were quickly learning just how terrifying Snape could be.
Lucien weighed out his knotgrass, setting it aside to grind. A chilling voice hissed behind him: "Tell me, Grafton, did I neglect to mention that knotgrass requires eight grams? Why have you weighed only five?"
Without pausing, Lucien placed the knotgrass in his mortar and began grinding. "You did say eight grams, Professor. But five grams is enough if you're grinding it into a powder."
Snape's voice grew icier. "I specified slicing. Powdered knotgrass loses its potency rapidly when added to the cauldron."
Still grinding steadily, Lucien replied, "That's why you lower the flame to 150°C when adding the powder, so it integrates more slowly."
Lucien was confident. As long as he explained his reasoning clearly, Snape would see the logic. His method was sound, and he wasn't about to back down just because of Snape's tone.
For once, Snape fell silent. His expertise told him instantly that Lucien's approach was valid and aligned with knotgrass's properties. It even reduced the amount needed without affecting the potion's quality.
"Grafton," Snape said curtly, "clever shortcuts have no place in potion-making." He turned and swept away, neither confirming nor denying the correctness of Lucien's method.
Terry leaned over, whispering, "He was grilling you, and I was the one shaking! Aren't you scared?"
"Why should I be?" Lucien shrugged. "Was I wrong?"
"Well, no, but Snape was just—"
"If I'd messed up, he'd have torn into me until I fixed it, right?"
Terry scratched his head, unable to argue. Lucien glanced at Terry's cauldron and added, "By the way, stir your potion before it burns."
"Oh, no!" Terry yelped.
Lucien continued brewing his improved Sleeping Draught, unfazed. Snape kept circling back, firing questions about his technique, but Lucien answered confidently, his hands steady as ever.
In the end, Lucien's potion was the first to finish. He held out the vial of Sleeping Draught Incense to Snape, who was standing nearby.
"Professor, would you like to check if it's up to standard?"