Watching Harry gradually withdraw under the relentless questioning of Snape, Evan was reminded of a theory he had come across in his past life.
The questions Snape posed to Harry each had a profound significance. Most notably, the potion ingredient asphodel translates in Latin to "My regrets follow you to the grave."
Wormwood, on the other hand, is typically associated with sorrow and regret.
Evan could scarcely imagine what emotions the sullen and deeply aggrieved Snape was experiencing as he faced Harry. Was it guilt for the role he played in Lily's death? Or was it deep affection, a longing to join his beloved in the grave?
With these thoughts, a hint of pity crept into Evan's gaze.
"Evan Halse!" Perhaps sensing something off in Evan's look, Snape, after barraging Harry with questions, spun his wand and pointed it at Evan, demanding, "Now it's your turn to answer these questions!"
Evan was initially stunned, not having expected Snape to quiz him, but he quickly recovered and responded, "Mixing powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood produces the Draught of Living Death, a potent sleeping potion... A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat, and monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant."
Having read the original text, Evan was not fazed by these questions. However, he was still somewhat nervous, fearing Snape might have more up his sleeve.
Before the potions class, Evan had gone through the textbook several times, but Snape was clearly not one to follow the script. None of the questions he asked Harry were part of the first-year syllabus.
[Ding, you have correctly answered the professor's challenging questions three times, with a 100% success rate, awarding you nine house points...]
An unexpected system voice echoed in Evan's mind.
Evan's expression rapidly shifted from worry to surprise, then to sheer delight, all his previous concerns cast aside.
Bring it on! If I so much as furrow my brow, I lose!
Evan's steadfast gaze met Snape's. A true warrior never fears any challenge!
If only Snape would pose ten more questions, Evan was confident he wouldn't miss a single one, and every house point counted...
Evan's impressive display of emotions left a lasting impression on the young wizards around him.
However, contrary to Evan's expectations, Snape hardly glanced at him again, instead turning with an expressionless face to mock Harry.
"Did you hear that, Potter? It seems not every first-year is as ignorant and foolish as you..."
"Professor, I..." Harry, flushed with indignation, stood up to retort, only to be abruptly cut off by Snape.
"Potter! For your performance... Gryffindor loses a point!"
With a decree-like finality, Snape turned heartlessly back to his teaching, leaving Harry to be forcefully pulled back down by Ron, his fair cheeks flushed with anger.
Evan, who had braced himself for Snape's trials, was left somewhat nonplussed by the cold shoulder. After shooting Harry an apologetic glance, he settled down to listen to the rest of the class, awaiting the moment Snape would challenge him again...
To Evan's disappointment, for the remainder of the class, Snape seemed to forget about him, focusing instead on berating those who made mistakes and showing a keen interest in Harry.
He hovered around Harry like a piece of iron drawn to a magnet, his hollow eyes scrutinizing every step of Harry's potion brewing, ready to lash out at the slightest error.
Ron, sitting next to Harry, also suffered with Scabbers being discovered by Snape and designated as a test subject for the potion's effects, nearly bringing Ron to tears on the spot.
Scabbers' pitiful squeaks upon learning its fate were heartrending...
If it weren't for Neville's accidental cauldron-melting mishap, which soured Snape's mood, Scabbers would have been forced to drink the dubious, dung-colored potion concocted by Ron.
Evan cast a sympathetic glance at Scabbers, collapsed on the table, lamenting the poor fortune of Peter Pettigrew, who had already suffered two scares within just a few days of arriving at the school.
For most young wizards, the one-hour potions class felt like an eternity of torment, and they all but fled the dungeon when it was over.
"Blimey, how could Dumbledore hire Snape as a professor? He nearly killed Scabbers!" After the class, Ron, while comforting the still trembling Scabbers, fumed with a desire to punch a wall.
Harry nodded in agreement, standing firmly with Ron. Being targeted so blatantly in the very first class was more than anyone could bear.
Harry simply couldn't fathom why Snape despised him so much.
"Harry, if you had read a bit more before class, you wouldn't have been unable to answer Professor Snape's questions," Hermione offered a different perspective, glancing at Evan and continuing, "Just like Evan. Professor Snape knew Evan could answer, that's why he didn't give him a hard time."
Hermione's praise made Evan feel somewhat sheepish; had he not known the plot, he might not have been able to answer Snape's questions either.
"Hermione, not everyone can memorize the potions book within a few days of starting school, and besides, the questions Snape asked Harry aren't in the first-year textbook," Evan sighed.
Hermione pursed her lips, choosing not to argue, as she too had witnessed Snape's behavior in potions class. Her previous habit of obeying the rules and the professors had prompted her to offer some defense when Ron was venting.
Ron and Harry were displeased with Hermione for defending Snape, and the trio walked in a stiff silence. Thankfully, Evan's mediation helped dissolve the tension just before they reached Hagrid's hut.
"Hagrid, we've come to visit!"
Harry stepped forward and knocked on the door, and soon the sounds of barking and scurrying came from inside. It wasn't long before the door swung open, revealing a towering figure.
"Harry, you're here! Come in, come in..." Hagrid greeted Harry warmly, all the while trying to calm his restless dog, Fang.
Evan followed Harry into the hut.
Inside, the single room was a bit cluttered. Along the windows hung various dried meats and hams, and there was a large stove at the front with a kettle of boiling water. A patched-up bed was situated against the wall on the right side.