20 Chapter 20: Fame and Glory
If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
3 September 1991, Hogwarts
From the looks of it, potions looked like a very interesting field of study, and Harry was interested in the specifics.
As he made his way to the dungeons, Harry hoped that the professor didn't dislike him on principle, since he was one of his Slytherin. Harry took a look at his schedule and realized that the class was also with Gryffindors. Well, that was a recipe for disaster.
Well, by the end of the potions lesson, Harry was pretty sure that Snape hated him. What the hell had James Potter done to him that he would be this petty to students? That man was without a doubt a menace that shouldn't be around children.
Harry had always thought that the stories were romanticized from the point of view of a child. He wasn't abused like the Harry from the stories, he wasn't starved, nor was he bullied by his cousin. As such, Harry somewhat expected Snape to be frosty, not some unhinged man picking on children.
Well, first of all, when Harry entered the classroom, he made sure to sit in the back, to avoid being called on by Snape. Blaise followed after him and they sat together, waiting for the professor to show up.
Everyone had shown up before the Professor; he had a fearsome reputation especially when it came to reprimanding Gryffindors. Even Weasley arrived early and sat down obediently waiting for the professor to arrive.
The door opened suddenly, and the professor entered the classroom dressed in black with his cape billowing behind him. It was cool, but it was also the highlight of the lesson. The man instinctively seemed to search for Harry and glared at him.
After a few seconds, he started his speech, "For those of you who do not know, I am Severus Snape, the current Senior potions professor in this school. I will have the misfortune to teach you the subtle arts of potions that most of you will fail to truly grasp. Potion brewing is without a doubt one of the most dangerous fields of magic you will learn in this school. A single mistake could cause an explosion that would not only endanger you but also the others around you. Most of the accidental deaths that occur in magical Britain have been attributed to potions, be it an accident by a sub-par brewer, or getting poisoned drinking a faulty potion. This is your first and final warning, if you do not take this field of magic seriously, you will answer to me. And believe me, you will wish that you would be dead."
The professor looked around the classroom making sure that he had the students' attention before continuing, "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.
"Like most of your wanded subjects, this class will be divided into theory and practice. I will be responsible for the practical aspects of your lesson, while you will have your theoretical ones with a junior professor. In this room, there are ground rules that you will follow. First of all, you are not allowed to brew any potion outside this room, since you will only risk killing yourselves. Secondly, you will follow my instructions to the letter. If you purposely choose to mess around with potions, you will answer to me. Finally, you will not be allowed to take any of the ingredients and potions outside this room. Am I making myself clear?"
The entire classroom nodded at once, "Now, let's begin our lesson, what are potions? Some of you might foolishly believe that it's simply a combination of magical ingredients, but they would be wrong. A potion necessitates magic to be brewed. A squib or muggle cannot brew a potion, although, I will leave the intricacies for your theory lessons."
"Longbottom!" said Snape suddenly, "Since you like not paying attention, why don't you explain to me what you would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of woodworm?"
The scarred boy, who was snickering with Weasley, stiffened and blushed in embarrassment, "I don't know sir."
The question wasn't really that hard, but it was mentioned in the potion book in the description of both ingredients. The draught of living death was a very well-known potion that were used on unconscious prisoners after large battles. Prisons tended to be full in times of war, and so, wizards used this potion to make sure they wouldn't escape or cause mayhem. The potion was so popular in the past that there are many muggle fairy tales inspired by this potion.
"Perhaps this question was just too complicated for you," Snape drawled, "Maybe this one would be more your speed. What exactly is a bezoar?"
The boy was clenching his fist, "I don't know, sir."
The rest of the Slytherins were snickering and Harry could understand why, even if he didn't like it. Bezoars are relatively common ingredients that every child knows about because they can neutralize most poisons. It was also on the first page of the potions book Snape recommended. The fact that Longbottom didn't know that was honestly disturbing. But still, this had gone past a simple punishment, Snape was actively embarrassing Longbottom in front of their peers.
The Professor was smirking now, "One last time, tell me three ingredients used in the cure for boils."
This was a point-blank question about the first potions they were going to brew. Anyone who had even looked at the book would have known that. Unfortunately, it seemed like Longbottom didn't.
The scarred boy glared at the professor, "I don't know, sir. But why don't you ask Hermione? She seems to know the answer. I have better things to do with my time than to play with potions."
True enough, the young muggleborn was shaking her hand in the air and had actually stood up for the last question. But the way Longbottom was talking back to the professor was beyond insolent, but it was the typical response from a spoilt child that liked flashy magic.
"That will be ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Longbottom. And drop your hand girl, you're embarrassing yourself."
The bushy haired girl had dropped her hand down. Harry noticed that she had watery eyes. Now, that was a very rude thing to say to a young girl that seemed to want to fit in. Oh, she was a know-it-all, that's for sure, and she wanted to show the world how smart she was. But she was a girl that wasn't even in her teens yet. The potion master was being purposefully cruel to her.
The man then kept asking questions to the Gryffindor students. He tended to give out ones just hard enough that they wouldn't be able to answer them. He didn't ask a question to any of the Slytherin, something that was entirely unfair. He even asked Granger what Harry realized were third-year potions. He was doing his best to beat everyone down as much as possible.
Harry stopped paying attention when the man was humiliating Seamus Finnigan and was brought back to reality with the professor's loud voice, "Potter!"
The entire classroom looked back at Harry at once, with disbelief clear on their faces. After all, he was the first Slytherin the professor was going to humiliate.
The man's glare was far more intense than it was with even Longbottom, "You think you're too good to pay attention, don't you? Well, answer me this, what are three ingredients used to make a draught of peace?"
Harry tried to remember if he had ever read about a draught of peace, and he did. It wasn't in the first-year textbook, it was in the OWL book he was reading. The man was asking him questions about an OWL level potion. "Powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, and stewed mandrake," said Harry with a dry tone.
The man actually reeled back when Harry answered his question correctly. Actually, the entire class was gaping at him, especially Hermione Granger who probably didn't even know the answers.
"What does the Wiggenweld potion do?"
Harry simply shrugged, "It is a healing potion that is known to cure minor injuries, although it is infamous for being an antidote to the Draught of Living Death, awakening victims of this potion from their endless slumber."
The professor didn't seem satisfied, "What is the Felix Felicis potion?"
"Felix Felicis, commonly known as liquid luck, is a magical potion that makes the drinker extremely lucky for a period of time, during which everything they attempt would be successful. It is known to be toxic in large quantities, and is very extremely to brew, which takes six months to complete."
The professor looked flabbergasted at the answered question, then asked, "what is Golpalott's third law?"
Harry simply shrugged, "I know that it is referenced as a law for making antidotes, but I am unsure of its content."
This question was a theoretical one that is explained to NEWT students, not first years, and the man seemed to see how caught up he had gotten with his questions. There's a difference between embarrassing unprepared students and asking them post-OWL potions questions.
The man just sniffed and started speaking to the rest of the class, "Now, this is not a rule, but I will heavily recommend you read the instructions carefully before you even attend your practical potion lessons with me, including researching the ingredients used to brew a simple Cure for Boils. Now, clear your desks and start brewing. The instructions are on the board. The ingredients necessary are in your desks' drawers. You will brew this potion individually. You have 90 minutes."
Harry took a piece of parchment and started writing the instruction on the board. They were somewhat different to that of the books, but Harry chose not to question them, and listen to the professor.
It was honestly, a rather riveting experience. Harry stopped caring about what the professor was doing and just started brewing. What he heard while brewing a potion was amazing. The idea was to combine the abstract properties of certain elements and other ingredients to enhance, reverse, or even just stabilize the concoction. Harry saw how the powdered snake fangs acted as stabilizers to the potion, the protection provided by the Porcupine quills, that enhanced the small anti-boil properties of the horned slugs. The symphony kept changing, and the magic channelled by the rod while stirring was like someone slowly changing the key to the potion's melody.
The rods seemed designed to help accelerate certain reactions and encourage certain results from particular combinations. These were standard ones that automatically used the user's magic in a certain quantity, hence the standardized number of stirs for potions. After OWL, specialized stirring rods are required where the magic channelled is actively controlled by the brewer, which is necessary for delicate potions.
By the end, Harry's potion was the exact red from the instructions, and he bottled it and put it on his desk. While the Professor was busy with Seamus whose potion had blown up and caused him and Weasley to grow giant painful boils on his face. The man was berating them instead of telling them to get to the infirmary. Still, by the end of it, Snape's reaction to his potion was him muttering, "Passable." In a disappointing tone and go back to praising Malfoy for his potion which was more orange than red. At least it was better than whatever abomination Longbottom had brewed, which the professor mocked loudly for everyone to hear.
By the end of the lesson, Harry just grabbed his bag and started to leave, ready to leave, only to see Longbottom waiting for him by the door, "I bet you liked that, huh, traitor?"
Harry was confused by what the boy was talking about, "Do you mind clarifying?"
"Just go away with your Slytherin friends," the scarred boy responded.
Harry just rolled his eyes, muttered "I'm too tired for this," and turned to leave for his common room. He had his fill of childish petty professors and weird scarred boys that glared at him for no reason.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.
