Potions Club.
No elaborate, fanciful name. Just a simple, concise designation that perfectly encapsulated the club's nature and purpose. It was, Sean thought, very much in keeping with Professor Snape's severe and pragmatic personality.
At eight-thirty in the evening, in the deepest, most secluded room within the Hogwarts dungeons, the Potions Club convened.
When Sean arrived, more than ten minutes early, and pushed open the heavy oak door, he found that four people were already seated inside. Each had a sturdy wooden table set before them, upon which rested a cauldron and various temporary shelves designed for storing potion ingredients.
There were four students present: two young men and two young women. One of them was already an acquaintance of Sean – the formidable seventh-year Slytherin Head Girl, Irina.
"When we came in today," one of the boys began, his voice friendly, "we noticed the new table and chair. We guessed then that the Professor had likely recruited a new member. The four of us spent some time speculating as to who the new addition might be, but I must admit, none of us expected it to be you, Sean."
The speaker was a boy with distinct Asian features, one of the relatively few such faces at Hogwarts. He belonged to Hufflepuff House. Because of his distinctive appearance, Sean recalled his name from the Sorting Ceremony.
Grant Wang.
Sean remembered hearing that Grant's grandfather was the Director of the Chinese Ministry of Magic's official office in Britain. His father also held a position within that same office, while his mother was a British-born wizard of Chinese descent. Grant was currently in his fourth year at Hogwarts and was generally known for being a very low-key, unassuming individual. So unassuming, in fact, that apart from his notable Chinese heritage, there was almost nothing particularly remarkable about him. Sean certainly hadn't expected that Grant would possess a talent for Potions sufficient to earn him a place in Snape's exclusive club.
"Hello," Sean began, intending to introduce himself. "My name is…"
Before Sean could finish his sentence, Grant Wang reached out, grasped Sean's hand firmly, and offered a warm smile. "I know who you are, Sean," he said. "Or rather, I suspect there are very few students at Hogwarts who don't know who you are by now. It's very nice to meet you. My name is Grant Wang. You can just call me Wang or Grant, whichever you prefer."
"Wang it is then," Sean replied, returning the handshake. "It's nice to meet you too."
Wang was clearly a very cheerful and outgoing person. After formally introducing himself to Sean, he proactively proceeded to introduce the other members of the club.
"This," Wang said, gesturing towards the Head Girl, "is Larina Burke. As you know, she is the seventh-year female Student Council President. Nowadays, apart from our Potions Club meetings, she rarely participates in other extracurricular activities. After all, she has her N.E.W.T.s to prepare for."
He then indicated the other young man. "This is Buck Ike. He's a third-year Ravenclaw and was also a member of the Potions Club who joined before you. Buck is a very quiet person, rarely speaks unless spoken to, but he's a good sort."
"And finally," Wang continued, turning towards the remaining young woman, "this is…"
Before Wang could complete the introduction, the young woman in question proactively approached Sean, extended her hand with a confident smile, and said, "My name is Jennifer Frawley. Perhaps, if you're so inclined, you can call me cousin."
Cousin?
Frawley?
Sean looked at Jennifer's slightly curly, long golden hair, a familiar feature, and said, his expression carefully neutral, "Are you from the Fawley family?"
Smiling and nodding, Jennifer clearly understood the implications of Sean's question. "Don't worry," she said, her voice pleasant. "I'm quite different from that fellow Oliver. His rather… abrasive attitude towards you stems more from the influence of my father. My attitude towards you, on the other hand, is more aligned with that of my mother. And while my mother isn't overly close to your father, she certainly isn't distant or hostile towards him either."
She paused, then added, "Of course, if you feel uncomfortable with the familial connection, you can simply treat me as you would any other student."
Sean looked at Jennifer, somewhat surprised to encounter another member of the Fawley family here, in this exclusive club. Oliver, he recalled, was in his sixth year. This Jennifer didn't appear to be on the verge of graduating either, so he surmised she was likely in her fifth year.
"Senior Jennifer," Sean said politely, "it's very nice to meet you."
Hearing Sean's formal address, Jennifer didn't seem to take offense. She simply smiled, nodded, exchanged a few more pleasantries with Sean, and then returned to her seat.
Regarding Jennifer's words, Sean decided to maintain a degree of reservation. As the old saying went, time reveals a person's true heart. If Jennifer genuinely harbored good intentions towards him, then whatever her underlying reasons for approaching him might be, it wouldn't hinder Sean from engaging in normal, cordial interactions with her. However, if she harbored other, less benevolent intentions, he would simply ensure he kept his distance when the time came.
The fifth table in the Potions Club, newly added, clearly belonged to Sean.
So, after briefly acquainting himself with the other members, he took his designated seat.
Potions Club, Sean noted, now consisted of one Hufflepuff, one Ravenclaw, and, including himself, three Slytherins. From this distribution alone, one could clearly discern Professor Snape's inherent preferences: his undeniable favouritism towards his own house, Slytherin, and his equally evident, if unspoken, dislike for Gryffindor.
After all, Sean found it difficult to believe that a house as large and historically significant as Gryffindor couldn't produce a single student with a discernible talent for Potions across all seven year groups.
Just as Sean was lost in these musings, at precisely eight-thirty, the door of the club room was pushed open with a decisive creak. The Slytherin "Snake King" himself, Professor Snape, strode into the room, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him. The heavy oak door swung shut of its own accord after Snape entered, sealing them within the chamber and lending the atmosphere an almost palpable feeling of entering a demon's private lair.
Snape glanced briefly at Sean, seated at the newly installed fifth table. His expression remained impassive, betraying no emotion. He then addressed the assembled students directly. "Today," he announced, his voice a low drawl that nevertheless commanded absolute attention, "we will begin our discussion on the issue of modifying standard Potions procedures. Let us start with each of you outlining your respective potion brewing habits and preferred techniques…"
For the Potions Club, Sean approached the session with twelve parts of his spirit, fully committed to absorbing every piece of information. He listened intently to Snape's words, to the contributions of the other members, to their intricate discussions and debates, and to the various subtle tips and techniques they shared. His quill flew across his parchment, rapidly recording everything he heard. The other, more established members didn't seem to mind Sean's diligent note-taking; they, too, had started their journey in this club from this very same position.
The existence of exclusive clubs like this was, by its very nature, least friendly to newcomers. It was all too easy for them to fall behind the established pace of discussion and experimentation. However, these clubs existed precisely for the purpose of improvement and advancement. It was naturally impossible for the other members to halt their progress or waste valuable club time solely for the sake of a newcomer.
Therefore, new members joining such a club often had to endure immense pressure and significant challenges during their initial month. If they could withstand this period of intense learning and successfully keep up with the demanding rhythm of the club, they would then be fully accepted as a member. Otherwise, they would inevitably withdraw from the club, a decision that was very likely to result in a significant psychological blow, a feeling of inadequacy and failure.
In reality, Snape was far more concerned about Sean's state and progress than he outwardly appeared. Perhaps it was because Sean was the only student he had ever invited to join the club in their first year at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was because the raw talent Sean had displayed had genuinely impressed Snape. Or perhaps, Sean mused, it was because Sean's articulated understanding of Potions so closely mirrored that of a certain cherished, long-lost acquaintance of Snape's. Whatever the reason, during this entire club activity, while Snape seemed not to address a single word directly to Sean, he was, in fact, secretly observing him the entire time, his keen eyes missing nothing.
"Very well," Snape finally announced, breaking the intense focus of the room. "This discussion is now concluded. Our next meeting will be on Friday evening. I trust that everyone will arrive on time."
Upon hearing this, the other members immediately rose from their seats and began to leave the club room. Just as Sean was also preparing to depart, Snape walked past him and, without breaking stride, placed a small, folded piece of paper on Sean's table.
This sudden, unexpected action genuinely took Sean slightly aback.
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