Severus Snape.
He was the Potions professor at Hogwarts, a man so skilled in the brewing of potions that he had earned the title of Potions Master.
But he had a greater mission than that; he was Dumbledore's trusted confidant.
Even as he was conducting his Potions class, he could not take his eyes off those irritating 'Potters.'
In Harry Potter's case, it went without saying.
That face, the spitting image of his bitter enemy, James Potter, was so loathsome.
During the first class, Snape couldn't help but see James Potter superimposed over Harry's form.
And so, Snape, filled with his hatred for James Potter, asked Harry a question with a sneer.
He was sure that he would have inherited his father's arrogant and lazy nature.
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
That brat, the spitting image of James Potter, will never be able to answer this question. The moment he was sneering to himself, that Potter answered the question.
"A powerful sleeping potion, known as the Draught of Living Death. Though the brewing method must be precise."
For a moment, Snape felt his mind go blank at the unexpected situation.
And what's more, that Potter answered his next question without any trouble.
Don't tell me he didn't inherit his father's hooligan-like temperament? No, that can't be. Just look at that hateful face.
That face, which is exactly like his father's—
And in the next moment, Snape looked into Harry's eyes and had no choice but to admit it.
The green light in Harry's eyes was, without a doubt, like that of Lily Evans, not the hateful Potter.
Somehow finding it difficult to meet those green eyes, Snape turned his gaze away.
And then, his eyes fell on the other 'Potter,' Aisen Potter.
The only thing about his appearance that could be reminiscent of the Potters was his black hair. Unlike James Potter, who at best had been close to a delinquent, this one had an appearance that gave off an aristocratic atmosphere.
If he had to say, he was perhaps closer to the Black family. In any case, Snape simply could not believe that this student was a member of the Potter family.
Appearance aside, there was no way a member of the Potter family of that age could exist.
The only reason he was able to use the Potter surname within Hogwarts without being questioned was solely due to the guarantee of the Headmaster, Dumbledore.
Snape recalled the conversation he had had with Dumbledore.
Just one month ago.
Snape couldn't help but be horrified when Dumbledore, who had suddenly appeared before him with a hideous appearance.
A scorched black beard, bruises all over his body, and the curse of transformation spreading across his body.
His ears were long and droopy, dangling hideously, and from one arm, sickening yellow tentacles, like those from the Imperius Curse, were growing.
Between his fingers were tattered pieces of flesh, and from between his torn robes, something like the tail of a bizarre demon had even grown.
No matter how you looked at it, his appearance was closer to a chimera than a human.
In Severus Snape's objective judgment, the only wizard with the skill to defeat the Dark Lord, the only wizard for whom the title of archmage was not an overstatement, was Albus Dumbledore.
And yet, that very Dumbledore had appeared in such a horrific state.
Severus hurriedly led Dumbledore to his workshop.
"What in the world could have done this to you, Headmaster! Don't tell me He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been resurrected?"
Despite Snape's attitude, Dumbledore just laughed serenely and replied.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Haha, what an absurd thing to say. Would you understand if I said The Unknowable One?"
Ignoring Snape's reaction to his incomprehensible words, Dumbledore continued.
"Severus, I'm so glad you're here. I almost had to go to St. Mungo's in this state. I can't even imagine what a gossip item I would become if I showed up in this ridiculous state."
At Dumbledore's words, Snape ground his teeth. Ridiculous state! To say such a thing even after becoming so hideous.
Moreover, the more Snape examined Dumbledore's wounds, the more he couldn't help but feel a chill.
Most potions had no effect at all. It was hard to even guess what kind of high-level curses had been mixed together.
Without a doubt, if the one who had been hit had been anyone other than Dumbledore, it wouldn't have been strange if they had died on the spot.
And yet, Dumbledore just asked nonchalantly.
"So, how long will it take to heal?"
"...I cannot say. It will depend on how well the appropriate potions work."
"Oh dear, this is a problem. I would like to be better by the entrance ceremony, at least."
Snape, who could not understand at all, asked.
"What on earth could have happened to cause you such injuries, Headmaster? Was it something so important that you would treat your own body, our only hope, so recklessly?"
At that, Dumbledore chuckled, and his eyes glinted. The flashing eyes of a sage, hidden behind the mask of a bizarre old man.
Dumbledore, flashing the eyes that gave trust to his followers, laughed.
"I can assure you, it was worth it, Severus. Truly, this is a price that is nothing at all. Compared to what I have gained, these wounds are truly nothing."
And then Dumbledore continued.
"Ah, right. Severus. Did you know? This is the year our dear Harry Potter will be enrolling."
Snape's hand, which had been hurriedly mixing the appropriate potion, paused for a moment, and then he continued to stir the medicine.
"Of course I know. I will be careful."
"Oh, that's not it. What I want to say is something else."
And then, Snape could see Dumbledore's serious eyes.
"The student named Aisen, who will be enrolling with Harry. Watch him carefully. But, whatever you do, do not get on his bad side."
Get on his bad side. It was by no means an expression one would use for a mere student.
And what's more, it was not a story to be told in such a situation.
Snape, who had lifted his head to ask more, found that Dumbledore was no longer there. He had left for the Headmaster's office.
And that was the end of his conversation with Dumbledore.
Snape, having finished his recollection, looked at Aisen again.
The boy the Headmaster Dumbledore had told him to watch carefully. But to think that he was a Potter.
And yet, he couldn't find anything particularly special about the boy.
And so, for now, Snape asked Aisen Potter a question.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They are all the same plant, Professor."
"Then what potion can be made using it?"
"Uh..."
Aisen, who seemed to hesitate for a moment. Of course, the Wolfsbane Potion was not something a first-year would know.
Just then, Snape felt a sense of foreignness in his mind and raised an eyebrow.
'Occlumency?'
But the feeling was too faint to be Occlumency. Besides, there were no wizards here who could use Legilimency.
It must be just a minor headache. Snape shook his head at his own excessive suspicion.
In the meantime, the other Potter seemed to have thought of the answer and answered.
"The Wolfsbane Potion, which controls the sanity of a werewolf, Professor."
"...Very impressive."
He was smart for a first-year, but he couldn't find any reason for Dumbledore to have told him to watch him.
Though he felt a sense of unease, Snape thought it was his own overreaction.
At least, that was the case until Aisen did not leave the classroom even after the class was over.
Let's admit it. I couldn't help but be impressed.
That professor named Severus Snape, his unpleasant personality aside, his skill in potion-making was truly outstanding.
Of course, since he was only teaching at a first-year level, his skills weren't very noticeable, but even so, I could glimpse the depth of his knowledge in his subtle gestures.
For example, if you watched him making a Boil-Cure Potion as an example at the front, anyone with a certain level of knowledge could recognize his delicate technique.
Even while grinding the snake fangs into a powder, I could see that Snape was intentionally leaving some coarse grains.
In a normal case, using such a coarse powder would surely result in a poorly made potion, but Snape used other ingredients in a very appropriate way to create an even more effective potion.
This meant that he understood the process of potion-making very thoroughly and could predict the results of all variables.
It was on a different level from simply following a recipe to brew a potion.
I, too, was a rather skilled potion-maker, enough to be able to make Felix Felicis, but that man's technique was truly outstanding.
Meanwhile, there was one more person in this classroom who had drawn my admiration.
I couldn't help but be impressed in a different way from Snape at his unimaginable potion-making skills.
"Neville!"
Snape's thunderous shout was heard.
"What on earth did you do to melt the cauldron!"
Wow, how in the world did he manage to melt a cauldron with just those ingredients?
—U-ugh!
Neville screamed and fell over, as if the potion that had spilled on the floor had splashed on his skin.
Snape, with a very annoyed expression, said to the surrounding students.
"Take this dunderhead to the hospital wing at once. Five points from Gryffindor!"
Snape's expression as he looked at Neville was one of disgust, but my thoughts were different.
Isn't it an excellent talent to create a potion of such heinous power with just those ingredients?
At this rate, it would be perfectly fine to use it as an offensive dissolving solution.
It was a shame to let such a talent go to waste. No matter how I thought about it, the right future career for that boy, Neville, was a poison potion maker.
Just pick up anything, put it in a pot, and stir, and it's complete. It couldn't be more economical!
In any case. After Neville was taken to the hospital wing, the Potions class ended anticlimactically.
Few people had managed to complete the potion correctly by the end, and most of them were Slytherins. Snape, by all accounts, did not like Gryffindors.
"That will be all for today. Take your dunderheads and get out."
Snape, who announced the end of the class with those words of dismissal. Most of the students left as he said, but Harry and I remained in the classroom.
Harry asked me.
"Master, aren't you leaving?"
"Ah, Harry. You go on ahead. I have something to discuss with the professor."
Screech, thud.
The Potions classroom was located in the dungeons.
Only after the ominous sound of the iron door subsided did Snape lift his head and look at me.
"Potter, what is it? Class is over."
"Ah, Professor. Class may be over, but I have some business with you."
"You lack manners, Potter. For business outside of class, you should make an appointment..."
"It's about this, Professor."
I looked clearly at Snape with my golden, shining 'Eyes.'
To be precise, at his arm, hidden beneath his robes.
"You seem to have an interesting tattoo on one of your arms."
"...!"
"A skull and a snake... it seems rather old-fashioned."
At my words, Snape reflexively drew his wand from his robes.
"You. How."
Busted. Seeing this, I smiled sweetly and said.
"Well. What will you do if I don't tell you?"
At my provocation, Snape glared at me.
And, the moment his eyes shone as if to pierce through me, I felt something invade my mind.
As expected.
A person so skilled in Occlumency is bound to have mastered Legilimency as well.
And as I've said before, the point where a mentalist's Occlumency is at its weakest is always one.
The situation where they themselves are using Legilimency.
I grinned, looked directly into Snape's eyes, and whispered.
'Legilimens.'
Fwoosh!
After the silent clash of magic.
Snape collapsed to the floor.
Needless to say, it was because I had crushed him in his own mind with Legilimency.
Snape asked me in a trembling voice.
"...What, what on earth are you?"
I shrugged and said.
"You wouldn't want to know, would you, Professor of the Dark Arts?"