LRAB Chapter 14 The Difficulties in Potions Class
Chapter 14 The Difficulties in Potions Class
The air beneath the castle was damp and chilly as Karen followed her three roommates down the stone steps. The torchlight cast flickering shadows on the walls, and their footsteps echoed through the dark corridors.
"I bet Snape deliberately chose the basement as the classroom, just so that people would feel depressed as soon as they walked in." Wesley rubbed his arms, his reddish-brown curls appearing even darker in the dim light. "This place is colder than my basement."
Fabian pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting the torchlight: "It shouldn't have been Professor Snape who chose it. According to 'Hogwarts: A History,' the Potions classroom was built underground a long time ago, supposedly to maintain a constant temperature and humidity, which would be beneficial for storing potions."
"And it's close to the Slytherin common room," Ernesto Griffiths added, "so the professor who chose this location for Potions class should be either Snape or a Slytherin professor."
"Maybe it was Slytherin himself who chose them," Karen joined the discussion.
Turning the last corner, the door to the Potions classroom came into view. Pushing it open, a pungent smell of herbs, minerals, and strange chemicals wafted out. Karen's grey-blue eyes narrowed slightly. In his "Eye of Truth," various colored magical particles floated in the air, indicating that complex magical reactions had been taking place here for a long time.
The classroom was already quite full of students, and Karen and her friends chose seats slightly to the right of the center.
"Remember," Karen whispered to her roommates, "Professor Snape doesn't like people whispering or fiddling with materials in his class."
"How did you know?" Wesley asked curiously.
"I guessed," Karen quickly covered up, "Look at the layout of this classroom, it's clearly the kind that requires strict discipline."
They had just set out their textbooks and parchment when the classroom door was flung open, and Severus Snape slid into the room like a giant bat, his black robes billowing behind him. His few steps to the podium silenced the entire classroom so completely you could hear a pin drop.
Snape stood behind the podium, his pale face appearing even more somber in the flickering candlelight. His dark eyes slowly swept over each student, finally settling on a few Gryffindors who visibly flinched.
“Because there are no fools waving wands here,” his voice was colder than the air in the basement, “many of you won’t believe this is magic.”
Karen silently recited the next lines in his mind—the scene was described so vividly in the original work that he could repeat it word for word, and it was that "big pot" that made him chuckle every time he thought of it.
"I don't expect you to truly understand the wonderful aroma wafting from the cauldron simmering over a low flame, its white smoke rising and its delicate fragrance filling the air..." Snape continued his icy opening, his voice like steel wrapped in silk, "You will never truly understand the wondrous magic of the fluid that flows through people's veins, that captivates the heart and confuses the will..."
"I can teach you how to raise your reputation, brew your glory, and even stop death..." Snape's voice suddenly lowered, but became even more dangerous, "provided you're not a bunch of fools."
Karen discreetly activated his "Eye of Truth," attempting to observe the flow of magic around the Potions Master. To his surprise, Snape's magical field exhibited an unusually complex pattern, like tangled black and white threads, bearing traces of both dark magic and the remnants of some bright incantation. A blurry shadow clung to his left arm, seemingly deliberately concealed by some powerful magic; presumably, that was Voldemort's mark.
"Mr. Hawthorne," Snape's icy voice suddenly pierced Cullen, "do you find it amusing to spy on the professor?"
Cullen's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly withdrew her power. Snape couldn't possibly know of the existence of the "Eye of Truth," but the professor's observational skills were clearly terrifyingly sharp.
"I'm sorry, Professor," Karen replied calmly, "I was just attracted by the potion-making device in the classroom."
Snape narrowed his eyes, seemingly assessing the veracity of the answer, then scoffed and turned to the class: "Potions Mastery is a precise science, and a delicate art. The smallest mistake can have disastrous consequences."
He waved his wand, and a long list of rules appeared on the blackboard: "These are my classroom rules. Violating any of them will result in points deducted from the college and personal detention."
For the next half hour, Snape explained in detail the basic principles of potion making, the commonly used tools, and basic safety measures. He would occasionally ask questions, mainly targeting a few Gryffindor students who seemed particularly nervous, and each stutter or mistake they made would draw sharp ridicule and a deduction of points from the House.
“Mr. Beeton,” Snape slithered like a snake to a round-faced boy, “what would I get if I added daffodil root powder to wormwood infusion?”
Rom Beeton's face turned as pale as the cauldron before him: "I...I don't know, Professor."
"Tsk, tsk—courage obviously doesn't mean everything," Snape scoffed. "Gryffindor, deduct five points."
Karen shook her head inwardly. With Gryffindor around, the level of taunting was truly off the charts.
Just as the course was halfway through, and Cullen thought the first Potions class would end uneventfully with Gryffindor's deductions, Snape suddenly turned to him.
"Ah, isn't this our great genius?" Snape's voice was clearly sarcastic. "Mr. Hawthorne, since you performed so well in Transfiguration class, you must also have unique insights into Potions?"
The classroom fell eerily quiet. Cullen felt all eyes on her, including the worried gazes of Ernesto and others, and the grateful expressions of the Gryffindor students who hadn't yet been mocked by Snape.
"I did my best, Professor," Karen replied calmly.
Snape's lips twisted into an almost smiling expression: "Then tell me: when making the Living Hell Soup, why crush the Sleepy Beans with a silver knife before adding them, instead of slicing them directly?"
Fabian gasped. He had already looked at the first-year potions textbook in advance, and this was clearly not within the scope of the first-year curriculum.
"The juice of the Sleepy Bean contains two antagonistic components, Professor," Karen's voice was clear and calm. "Slicing it directly only releases the hypnotic component, while squeezing it releases the antidote. The Living Hell Soup requires a balance of both to produce the desired effect."
A few gasps of surprise rippled through the classroom. Snape's expression froze, his dark eyes fixed on Cullen. After a moment of silence, he almost gritted his teeth as he said, "...Correct. What are you waiting for? Write it down now."
Cullen could sense Snape's resentment; the professor was clearly hoping to see him humiliated. It seemed he knew about the points Slytherin had lost in yesterday's Transfiguration class because of him.
In the following lessons, Snape clearly avoided Cullen, instead treating the other students more harshly. When the bell finally rang, almost everyone breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly packed their things, preparing to escape the oppressive classroom.
"Hawthorne," Snape suddenly called to Cullen, who was about to leave, "stay."
"I don't care how much Flitwick and McGonagall think of you," Snape's voice was so low it was almost a whisper, "there are no special treatments in my classes. Understand?"
"Understood, Professor."
Snape stared at him for a few more seconds, then suddenly turned around and said, "You can go now."
Karen was surrounded by her three roommates as soon as she stepped into the hallway.
"Merlin!" Wesley exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder excitedly. "How did you know the answer to that question? That sounds like NEWTS level knowledge!"
“I read about it in the book ‘Advanced Potions Making’ that I bought in Diagon Alley,” Karen replied, then lowered her voice, “Let’s talk about it as we walk.”
The four walked up the underground corridor until the sunlight shone on them again, and only then did they feel that they had truly escaped the oppressive atmosphere of the Potions classroom.
“Professor Snape… he was indeed very strict.” Fabian carefully chose his words. “But my father said that the best surgeons are often the most demanding teachers.”
"He's deliberately making things difficult for you," Ernesto suddenly said, his gray eyes flashing with displeasure, "just because you embarrassed Slytherin in Transfiguration class."
Karen was somewhat surprised by Ernesto's outspokenness; her pure-blooded roommate seemed increasingly less hesitant to express his opposition to the college's prejudices.
"But his abilities are indeed outstanding," Karen said fairly. "I noticed that there was a bottle of brewed Felix Felicis in the cabinet in his office, which is a very high-grade potion."
"How did you see that?" Wesley asked curiously.
"Uh... the door was open when I passed by." Karen quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, Snape is undoubtedly a Potions Master, but as a teacher..."
"It was a nightmare," Wesley said, making an exaggerated trembling gesture.
Fabian adjusted his glasses: "According to educational psychology, strict teachers often produce the best students, but the price is..."
"It's the confidence and interest of most students," Ernesto unexpectedly finished the sentence. "One of my Hufflepuff cousins said that Snape humiliated him in Potions class, which is why he still doesn't dare touch a cauldron."
Ernesto's three roommates looked at him in surprise, not expecting him to share such a family anecdote. Ernesto seemed to realize his slip of the tongue, lowered his head, but did not take back what he had said.
"At least we made it through the first class," Karen said, easing the awkwardness, "and we didn't lose any points, which is much better than Gryffindor."
The four walked into the courtyard, the warm autumn sun shining on their shoulders. Cullen glanced back at a dark corner of the castle, leading to the underground classroom. The unusual magical power emanating from Snape still lingered in his mind; those traces of darkness and light intertwined—this was truly the first time he had encountered such a peculiar situation.
"Hey, genius, stop daydreaming!" Ernesto nudged him with his elbow, his tone already back to its usual arrogance. "See you at the library after dinner? I need to 'borrow' your potions notes."
"Of course," Karen replied with a smile, temporarily setting aside her questions about Snape.
Four boys walked toward the auditorium, their shadows growing longer and longer in the setting sun.