Snape ascended the platform step by deliberate step. As he passed each window, he casually waved his hand, causing the curtains to draw themselves shut. The Potions classroom grew even dimmer, the air heavy with an almost oppressive darkness.
This small display of wandless and nonverbal magic spoke volumes about Snape's skill—abilities even seasoned Aurors might struggle to replicate.
Once on the platform, Snape surveyed the room with his piercing gaze before speaking:
"Why are you all looking at me? Look at your desks!"
The sharp reprimand startled every student into lowering their heads, even the Slytherins.
"On the corner of each of your desks lies a stone. The first question: what is it?"
The moment Snape's voice fell silent, Wentworth noticed Cassandra, sitting not far from him, shoot her hand into the air.
Snape, however, ignored her. He slowly made his way toward Cassandra but abruptly turned to fix his gaze on Wentworth.
"Wentworth, you answer. What is this stone?"
Wentworth gave a wry smile, inwardly cursing Snape. What a blatant act of revenge. Sorry, Professor, but I wasn't born with your favorite pair of eyes.
Nevertheless, Wentworth stood and replied:
"Professor Snape, this is bezoar."
Snape nodded slightly before continuing,
"And what is it used for?"
"Bezoar is extracted from the stomachs of goats and is highly effective as an antidote to most poisons!"
Snape neither affirmed nor denied the answer. Instead, he said curtly, "Sit down."
As Wentworth took his seat, Snape made his way back to the platform, speaking as he walked:
"The bezoar before you has been provided in advance. If any of you are foolish enough to smear something toxic on yourselves and later regret it, you may use it to save your life. Don't worry; I have plenty. Feel free to experiment."
The class fell silent. Snape rapped on the table loudly.
"Why are your heads down? Look at me!"
In unison, the students' heads snapped upward. Snape held up a vial of potion.
"This is the Draught of Living Death. Who can tell me its purpose?"
The question barely hung in the air when Cassandra's hand shot up again. Wentworth noticed that Snape only glanced at her before fixing his attention once more on him.
"Wentworth, tell us—what is the Draught of Living Death used for?"
As expected, Snape singled him out again.
Fortunately, thanks to Cedric's impromptu review session last night, Wentworth was well-prepared. Standing up, he answered:
"The Draught of Living Death is a powerful sleeping potion, Professor Snape."
"You're not entirely witless after all," Snape said without a trace of emotion. He waved a hand, signaling Wentworth to sit.
As he did, Wentworth felt a burning glare. Turning slightly, he found Cassandra glaring at him, as if accusing him of stealing her spotlight.
Wentworth could only shrug helplessly, silently conveying that it wasn't his intention.
However, Cassandra seemed to take his gesture as a provocation.
"Are you two exchanging flirtatious glances during my lesson?"
Snape's voice suddenly boomed from beside them, startling both. Neither had noticed when he had approached.
Wentworth's stomach sank. This old bat can't stand any hint of student interaction.
"Five points from Hufflepuff and Slytherin!" Snape snapped.
For Snape to dock points from his own house, Wentworth knew he must be livid.
Returning to the platform, Snape held up the potion again and asked,
"Who can tell me the two most critical ingredients in the Draught of Living Death?"
Wentworth noticed Cassandra hesitate, her hand halfway raised, only to lower it again, likely deterred by Snape's earlier scolding.
"Cassandra, you answer."
Surprisingly, Snape called on her this time.
Cassandra blinked in surprise but quickly stood and replied,
"Powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood, Professor Snape!"
Snape gave a slight nod.
"Excellent answer. Ten points to Slytherin."
Wentworth sighed inwardly. He now fully understood Harry Potter's feelings from the books. Even knowing that Snape wasn't truly a villain and had a heart-wrenching backstory, Wentworth couldn't help but feel frustrated.
Despite his inner grumbles, Wentworth sat silently as Snape began explaining the Draught of Living Death's preparation.
Midway through, Wentworth's eyes wandered to a pile of old books near the platform. A scene from the original story flashed through his mind, sparking an idea.
As the class neared its end, Wentworth discreetly tore a few pages from his textbook.
Though the potion was potent, its preparation wasn't overly complex, making it a common first-year assignment. Still, many students hadn't managed to complete it by the end of class.
Thanks to Cedric's coaching, Wentworth successfully brewed the potion. Snape, noticing this, retreated to his desk without further commentary.
At long last, the class ended. Under Snape's caustic remarks, the Hufflepuff first-years left looking utterly dejected.
As the students filed out, Wentworth lingered, clutching his book as he approached Snape.
"Already eager for the special training I've prepared for you?" Snape remarked dryly, raising an eyebrow.
"Professor Snape," Wentworth began, "my textbook seems to be missing a few pages. I was wondering if you might have an old copy I could borrow."
Snape glanced at the book, his expression unreadable.
"Even trolls check their weapons before heading into battle. Choose one from the pile over there," Snape said with a sneer, pointing to the stack of old books.
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