Chapter 9: Potion Class

Hogwarts’ first-year schedule was delightfully relaxed—on Mondays, Wade had only two consecutive Potion classes in the morning.

After breakfast, a group of Ravenclaw first-years walked together toward the underground classroom. As the air grew colder and the stone corridors darkened, the students’ expressions gradually turned pale.

“Rumor has it that Professor Snape, who teaches Potion, is the Head of Slytherin House,” Michael said, trying to lighten the mood as he walked beside Wade. “Didn’t you notice him during Sorting last night? The one with the black hair and eagle-like nose?”

“Of course,” Padma replied. “I’d say we’d better not get on his bad side.”

They arrived in silence. Along the walls stood cabinets filled with rows of glass jars, each containing strange and unsettling animal specimens. Some of the more timid students looked like they might cry, scrambling to sit as far away from the displays as possible. Wade, however, chose a corner seat—unfazed by dead specimens, but wary of any classmate who might accidentally cause a disaster and drag him down with them.

Soon after, Hufflepuff students arrived in a cluster, reacting much like the Ravenclaws had. But since the Ravenclaws had already secured the best seats, the Hufflepuffs were forced to spread out to the edges.

Wade’s quiet corner suddenly gained two new occupants—two Hufflepuff students.

“Hi,” said the brown-haired boy, stepping forward with a smile. “I’m Theo Mancini. This is Liam Caro.”

“Wade Gray,” Wade replied.

“Wade?” Theo asked, tilting his head. “You know, our professor for today—”

“—Theo, don’t talk,” the blond boy, Liam, cut in sharply. “Professor’s here.”

His words had barely left his lips when the classroom door burst open with a loud slam.

A tall man in flowing black wizard robes strode in. His face was cold, his presence intimidating. Students instinctively shrank back. The room fell utterly silent.

Snape scanned the room with a piercing gaze, then pulled out the class register and began calling names. Seeing no one late on the first day, his expression softened—just slightly.

“Potion is a highly precise discipline,” he murmured, his voice low and chilling. “It demands strict procedures and exact measurements. Anyone who alters a recipe without reason, adds or removes ingredients at will, or—worse—tries to fix a mistake with a careless wave of their wand—”

His icy eyes swept over the wide-eyed first-years, lingering especially on the Hufflepuffs wearing yellow-and-black striped ties.

“—will learn, in the most painful way possible, just how disastrous a flawed Potion can be.”

Theo swallowed hard, as if the warning had been meant for him personally. Wade felt a flicker of unease. He’d chosen the corner to avoid distractions—but now he realized his seat might be next to a ticking time bomb.

Snape, as if sensing the subtle tremor of anxiety, zeroed in instantly. Without checking the register, he said, “Theo Mancini!”

“Yes, sir!” Theo jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his cauldron. “Yes, Professor!”

“During the preparation of Pimple Potion, how should slugs be treated?”

Almost instantly, seven or eight hands shot up—mostly Ravenclaws.

Good news: Snape hadn’t picked a trick question. It was straight from Chapter One of the textbook.

Bad news: Theo hadn’t read it.

The boy stammered, “I—I don’t know, sir.”

“Sit down.” Snape’s tone was colder than ice. “No prior reading—Hufflepuff loses one point. Wade Gray!”

He pointed casually at the Ravenclaw beside him.

Wade stood immediately. “Five minutes of boiling, sir.”

“Correct,” Snape nodded—then offered no points to Ravenclaw. Instead, he turned to another student. “Michael Conner. What is the purpose of nettles?”

“C-Can… treat inflammation, hair loss… and stop bleeding,” Michael stammered.

“Acceptable,” Snape said, nodding him back to his seat. Then, “Hannah Abbot. When should hedgehog quill be added?”

The golden-haired girl stood up, eyes glistening with tears. She looked like she might burst into sobs at the slightest provocation.

Snape glanced away and called another name. “Liam Caro?”

Liam had already flipped open his textbook during the earlier questions. The answer was highlighted on the page.

“—After extinguishing the fire, Professor.”

He spoke steadily, though his jaw remained tight.

Snape glanced down at the open book. “I hope you’ll learn to store knowledge in your mind before you come to class, instead of cramming at the last minute and praying for Merlin’s mercy.”

Liam sat down, still tense. Theo reached over and gave his arm a reassuring pat.

This wasn’t about one student. Snape was making a point to every single one of them. The barrage of rapid-fire questions delivered a brutal wake-up call. By the time he finally began actual instruction, Hufflepuff had lost thirteen points, and Ravenclaw had lost five.

In the silence that followed, Snape began guiding them through the preparation of Pimple Potion. He paired students by seat, then waved his wand—clear, detailed instructions appeared on the blackboard, written in sharp, precise script.

Everyone scribbled furiously.

Wade noticed: the procedure on the board differed slightly from the textbook. Following the book exactly would almost certainly result in a Potion that wouldn’t satisfy their professor.

“Sorry,” Theo said quietly, leaning toward Wade. “I didn’t read the chapter, but I’ll try not to slow you down.”

His amber eyes were honest. Wade’s earlier annoyance at being paired with a seemingly unprepared student melted away.

“It’s fine,” Wade said. “Pimple Potion is simple—just follow the steps. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Theo retrieved the ingredients from the nearby shelf while Wade measured them precisely with a scale. He handed Theo a snake fang with a knife. “You handle the ingredients. I’ll manage the boiling.”

“Got it.”

Theo put on his dragonhide gloves and began grinding the serpent tooth into a fine, even powder in the mortar. Wade, meanwhile, used tweezers to carefully place four slugs into the cauldron, adjusting the heat with a delicate wand motion.

A few minutes later, he removed the color-changing slugs and set them aside. He refilled the cauldron and double-checked the procedure.

Theo had already finished his powder—now he was chopping dried nettles with steady hands.

Wade was surprised. The Hufflepuff boy seemed clumsy at first glance, but his technique was meticulous. The powder was perfectly uniform, free of coarse bits or impurities.

Maybe this partner isn’t so bad after all.

Wade thought.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end