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"Potter, where did you learn those things? As far as I recall, the book doesn't mention those details."
Snape's rigid expression relaxed slightly.
'At least he isn't completely stupid.'
"Dudley told me," Harry answered, honest as always.
Snape nodded thoughtfully. For the first time, his gaze shifted away from Harry and landed on Dudley.
"Then, Dursley. Would you like to add anything to what Potter said? Answer the first two questions."
"Powdered asphodel root added to an infusion of wormwood produces a very powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death. As for a bezoar, it is a stone taken from a goat's stomach with strong antidotal properties."
To Dudley, those questions were trivial.
"Very good. Two points to Slytherin."
Snape seemed to be in a good mood.
Hermione almost jumped out of her seat. She had been holding her hand up for quite a while and Snape still hadn't called on her. In the end, Dudley simply received two points for free.
Now the gap widened even further.
"Work in pairs. For our first lesson, we will do something simple: brew the Cure for Boils."
In truth, the Cure for Boils was not simple at all. In the first-year textbook it was already considered a potion with a certain level of difficulty — at least for most young witches and wizards. According to the book, the first class should have been nothing more than a basic introduction to the subject of Potions.
But clearly Snape did not think that way.
He had no interest in teaching theory alone.
The best way to learn was by actually doing it.
After giving a brief demonstration at the front of the class, he began moving between the tables, watching the students weigh dried nettles, crush snake fangs, and correcting mistakes here and there.
To be fair, Snape was actually a very responsible teacher when it came to pointing out mistakes.
He always identified exactly where a student had gone wrong. As long as they followed his instructions properly, they would eventually be able to complete the potion.
The problem was surviving the way he said it.
"You idiot. Even a swamp goblin would have more intelligence than you."
"How many times did I say to add the porcupine quills first? Is your brain filled with troll dung?"
"If I were you, I'd dig a hole in the ground and bury my head in it. That way no one would notice it's empty."
As long as the student could endure that verbal venom.
If Snape had to repeat an instruction a second time, he became even more vicious. His insults were creative and relentless. Even Dudley was impressed by the sheer level of abuse.
Several students were practically on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
Almost everyone received some kind of reprimand.
Only a few managed to escape.
Hermione was among them.
Hermione's talent for Potions was extremely impressive. In Dudley's opinion, she was the best student at brewing potions he had seen so far — except for himself.
Although, to be fair, he hadn't seen many students brew potions yet.
Even so, that did not diminish Hermione's ability.
She finished her potion only half a step behind Dudley.
Snape examined her vial.
He did not praise it.
But he did not criticize it either.
He simply said calmly,
"Acceptable."
Then he moved on.
Hermione was furious. She had been expecting to earn some points.
In reality, the fact that Snape hadn't insulted her already meant she had done well.
But to receive praise from a Potions Master, simply completing the recipe correctly was not enough.
A moment later, Snape stopped in front of Dudley's table.
He picked up the finished potion on the table and examined it carefully.
"Cure for Boils. Perfect."
It was the first time Dudley had ever brewed a perfect potion — and it was also a potion he had never brewed before.
Part of that was because the recipe itself was relatively simple for Dudley.
Another part came from Snape's guidance. Even learning a tiny fraction of a Potions Master's experience made a huge difference.
And of course, there was also the Data Magic Eye.
With it activated, Dudley could control the temperature and brewing time with extreme precision.
The potion was perfectly transparent.
Snape stared at the vial in silence.
How many years had it been since he had seen a potion this perfect?
The last time had been with Lily.
They had brewed that potion together.
It was one of the few happy memories left in his life.
He had always imagined that one day he would see something like this from Lily's child.
But the one who achieved it was someone else.
Although, in a way, it was still connected to Lily.
The child of her sister.
Petunia's son.
Snape knew Petunia. He and the Evans family had been neighbors before Lily and Petunia married.
Evans had been their surname back then.
Snape slowly ran his fingers along the small crystal vial.
Complicated emotions stirred within him.
A faint ripple appeared in his otherwise empty gaze.
For a moment, he thought he saw something else.
The Gryffindor girl, Granger, was baring her teeth at Petunia's son.
And the boy responded by secretly pinching her cheek.
Watching the two of them, it felt as if time had gone back twenty years.
A young wizard.
A young witch.
Him and Lily.
But none of that could return.
If Dudley or Hermione had possessed emerald-green eyes...
That would have been a fatal blow to Snape.
But Dudley had inherited Petunia's blue-green eyes.
And Hermione's eyes were brown.
The memory remained incomplete.
Snape stood there holding Dudley's potion, lost in thought for a full three minutes.
The students began wondering what was going on.
Was Dursley's potion so good that the professor couldn't bear to put it down?
Or was it so terrible that he was thinking about the best way to insult him?
If any older Slytherin students had been present, they would have noticed that their Head of House was behaving very strangely today.
He had gone three whole minutes without insulting Gryffindor.
Suddenly, an explosion echoed through the classroom.
BOOM!
The calm was shattered instantly.
A cloud of acidic green smoke rose into the room, accompanied by a strong smell and unpleasant hissing sounds.
It was Seamus Finnigan.
For some reason, he had added the wrong ingredient to the cauldron.
The potion exploded.
The cauldron warped from the blast and highly corrosive liquid splashed everywhere.
The clothes and shoes of several students were burned full of holes.
But the one who suffered the most was Neville.
He was completely covered in the substance.
Red, painful boils erupted all over his body.
He screamed in pain.
Meanwhile, realizing the disaster he had caused, Seamus simply ran away.
"Are you a brainless goblin?" Snape roared.
He had snapped back to reality.
Discreetly, he stored Dudley's potion away and with a flick of his wand cleaned the spilled liquid from the floor.
"You added the porcupine quills too early and failed to monitor the flame temperature. How many times have I repeated that today? I should like to pry open your skull and see if it is filled with dung."
Then Snape turned to Harry.
"And you, Potter. Why did you not warn him? One point from Gryffindor."
Snape let out a contemptuous sigh.
"You are the worst class I have ever taught."
At that exact moment, the class ended.
"For homework, you will write a four-inch essay on the Cure for Boils. I expect something acceptable at the next lesson."
Snape paused briefly.
"Dursley stays. The rest of you may leave."
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