"Harry Potter."
Professor Snape paused for a moment when he read the name.
"Yes!" Harry replied.
Snape's eyes lingered on him, and his breath quickened.
Green, hidden behind Harry's glasses, catching the faint light of the dim basement—like the green reflected off broken glass on a dark night.
For a moment, it seemed as if it was Lily looking at him. He wanted to apologize to her so badly. Youth is filled with inferiority and conceit; anger leads to harsh words spoken without thought. Before he could find the right way to explain his unintentional cruelty, they drifted apart. The arrogant young man spiraled further into darkness.
Maybe there had once been hope. Snape had wanted to prove himself, to show others his worth, but in doing so, he pushed Lily into the abyss with his own hands. Life is fragile and irreversible. He would gladly trade his life for hers, but some people never return.
This world is dull, ruled by darkness. Death is not easy—you must pay for your sins, and some must pay the heaviest price.
Snape leaned on the table and glanced at the next student.
Only Loren noticed something different in Snape's gaze.
When Snape called Loren's name, he stared at him intently.
Loren guessed that Dumbledore must have informed the staff about the rat Scabbers. A dark wizard hiding at Hogwarts wouldn't go unnoticed by the professors.
After taking attendance, Snape began introducing the great subject of potions.
"In my class, you will not wave wands or chant spells." His voice dropped low, almost chanting.
"I do not expect many of you to understand the mysteries of potions."
"But for the talented few, I can teach you how to confound minds and imprison senses."
"How to brew a reputation, concoct honor, and even craft immortality."
Whether Snape spoke these poetic lines to every first-year or not, they were captivating.
Harry, standing nearby, scribbled the words in his notebook. Though Snape's attitude felt cold, Harry wanted to record everything.
Snape noticed Harry writing, his head bowed—his odd focus reminded Snape of James. A prick of irritation surged within him.
"Perhaps some at Hogwarts believe their fame makes them immune to listening!"
"Potter! Tell me—what happens if you add narcissus root powder to wormwood infusion?"
Harry hesitated, glancing at Ron, who looked just as stunned.
Slytherin students smirked at the scene. Their head of house was about to put Gryffindor in their place. The Gryffindors themselves looked confused—did they have to answer questions on the very first day?
Hermione practically radiated eagerness, her face shouting "Ask me! I know this!"
Harry had no choice but to admit, "I don't know, sir."
Snape's eyes scanned him, as if seeking some hidden truth. "Fame does not mean everything. Let me try again. If you need a bezoar, where would you look?"
Hermione shot her hand into the air.
Harry glanced at his classmates. "I don't know, sir."
Snape pressed on, "What's the difference between Aconitum chamaejasme and Aconitum naviculatum?"
Loren and Ron exchanged pitying looks toward Harry. Hermione almost stood up but restrained herself, keeping her hand raised while seated.
Harry sighed, admitting again, "I don't know, sir." His tone relaxed—there was no point in hiding his ignorance.
"So, it's just a name to you, Potter." Snape sounded more relieved than disappointed.
Harry's irritation surfaced: "Obviously Hermione knows the answers. It's a shame you won't let her speak."
Laughter rippled through the classroom.
Snape silenced them with a sharp glance. The pressure was palpable, and the room fell quiet.
Hermione still held her hand high. Snape strode over, his footsteps deepening the silence.
"Put your hand down, silly girl."
Hermione looked disappointed but obeyed.
Then Snape's gaze fixed on Loren, piercing into his eyes. "Some have talent and a bit of arrogance."
Dumbledore had warned him about Loren's strange eyes. To deal with the Animagus hiding in the Weasley family for over ten years, Snape had brewed potions and worked late nights preparing.
Loren was puzzled. Why target me? My eyes aren't green.
"Loren Morgan, answer these questions."
Loren knew Snape would challenge Harry at the first potions class, but couldn't recall the exact questions. However, before school started, he had studied alchemy and wolfsbane potions, memorizing key points.
"Narcissus root powder combined with wormwood creates a powerful sleeping draught—the Living Hell Decoction."
"Bezoars are found in the stomach of cows."
"Aconitum naviculatum and Aconitum wolfsbane are the same species, collectively called Aconitum."
He answered calmly—none of this was advanced knowledge.
Snape failed to find fault and lost interest in Loren, turning to scold the class.
"Why aren't you writing this down?"
The rustle of quills against parchment filled the room.
Amid the noise, Snape added, "Potter talked back. Gryffindor loses five points."
The Gryffindors sulked—they hadn't even earned any points for their answers.
Loren remained indifferent. If you wanted to matter here, you needed background and influence. Point deductions wouldn't affect the House Cup.