The air in the castle's basement was damp and chilly as Kevin followed his three roommates down the stone steps. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and their footsteps echoed through the deep corridor, amplifying the sense of anticipation and unease.
"I bet Snape chose the classroom underground on purpose, just to make people feel depressed as soon as they enter," Wesley said, rubbing his arms and shivering. His reddish-brown curls looked 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 chosen by Professor Snape. According to Hogwarts: A History, the Potions Classroom was built underground a long time ago. It's said that this was to maintain a constant temperature and humidity, which is conducive to the storage of potions."
"And it's close to the Slytherin common room," Ernesto Griffith added. "Even if the professor who chose the Potions classroom here isn't Snape, he should be a Slytherin."
"Maybe it was Slytherin himself who chose it," Kevin joined in, his voice low and thoughtful.
After turning the last corner, the door of the Potions classroom appeared before them. When Kevin pushed the door open, a powerful scent of herbs, minerals, and strange chemicals washed over him. He narrowed his gray-blue eyes slightly. In his "Eye of Truth" vision, magic particles of various colors floated in the air, indicating that complex magical reactions had been taking place here for a long time.
There were already quite a few students seated in the classroom, and Kevin and the others chose seats slightly to the middle right.
"Remember," Kevin reminded his roommates in a low voice, "Professor Snape doesn't like people talking or messing with materials in his class."
"How do you know?" Wesley asked curiously.
"I guessed," Kevin quickly covered, "Look at the layout of this classroom, it's obviously the kind that requires strict discipline."
They had barely laid out their books and parchment when the door flung open and Severus Snape glided into the room like a giant bat, his black robes billowing behind him. His few steps to the podium made the whole classroom so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
Snape stood behind the podium, his pale face looking even gloomier under the flickering candlelight. His dark eyes slowly scanned each student, finally stopping on a few Gryffindors who visibly shrank back.
"Since there's no silly waving of wands here," he said, his voice colder than the basement air, "many of you won't believe this is magic."
Kevin recited the next lines silently in his mind—the scene was described so vividly in the original book that he could repeat it word for word, and it was the 'big pot' that made him laugh every time he thought of it.
"I don't expect you to truly appreciate the beauty of that simmering pot with white smoke and bursts of fragrance…" Snape continued his cold opening remarks, his voice like steel wrapped in silk. "You will not truly understand the magical power of the liquid flowing into people's veins, which makes people's hearts and minds excited and confused…"
"I can teach you how to improve your reputation, create glory, and even prevent death…" Snape's voice suddenly lowered, but became more dangerous, "The premise is that you are not a bunch of fools."
Kevin quietly activated the "Eye of Truth" to observe the flow of magical energy around the Potions master. To his surprise, the magic field around Snape showed a rare and complex situation, like tangled black and white threads, with traces of dark magic and remnants of some bright spells. There was a vague shadow on his left arm, which seemed to be deliberately covered by some powerful magic. Kevin guessed that place should be Voldemort's mark.
"Mr. Hawthorne," Snape's cold voice suddenly pierced the silence, "Do you think it's fun to spy on the professor?"
Kevin's heart skipped a beat and he quickly retracted his ability. Snape couldn't possibly know about the "Eye of Truth," but the professor's observation skills were obviously terrifyingly sharp.
"I'm sorry, Professor," Kevin replied calmly, "I was just drawn to the Potions equipment in the classroom."
Snape narrowed his eyes, as if assessing the truth of the answer, then snorted and turned to the class: "Potions is an exact science and a delicate art. The smallest mistake can lead to disastrous consequences."
He waved his wand, and a long list of rules appeared on the blackboard: "These are my classroom rules. Violation of any of them will result in house point deductions and personal confinement."
For the next half hour, Snape explained in detail the basic principles of potion making, common tools, and basic safety measures. He occasionally asked questions suddenly, mainly targeting several Gryffindor students who looked particularly nervous, and their every stutter or mistake would lead to sharp ridicule and house point deductions.
"Mr. Beeton," Snape slithered like a snake over to the round-faced boy, "what would I get if I added powdered narcissus root to an infusion of wormwood?"
Rom Beeton's face turned as pale as the crucible in front of him: "I... I don't know, Professor."
"Tsk, tsk—courage is obviously not everything." Snape sneered, "Five points from Gryffindor."
Kevin shook his head secretly. With Gryffindor here, the taunt value is really maxed out.
Just when the course was halfway through and Kevin thought that the first Potions class would end uneventfully with Gryffindor's points deducted, Snape suddenly turned to him.
"Ah, isn't this our great genius?" Snape's voice was filled with obvious sarcasm. "Mr. Hawthorne, since you have performed so well in Transfiguration class, I guess you must have unique insights into Potions as well?"
The classroom suddenly became eerily quiet. Kevin felt that all eyes were focused on him, including the worried gazes of Ernesto and the others, and the grateful expressions of several Gryffindor students who had not yet been ridiculed by Snape.
"I'm doing my best, Professor," Kevin replied calmly.
Snape's mouth twisted into a near smile. "So, tell me: when making the Living Hell Potion, why do you use a silver knife to squeeze the beans before adding them, rather than just slicing them?"
Fabian gasped—he had already looked at the first-year Potions textbook in advance, and this was obviously not within the scope of the first-year curriculum.
"The juice of the sleepy bean contains two antagonistic ingredients, professor," Kevin's voice was clear and calm. "Direct slicing will only release the hypnotic ingredient, while squeezing can release the antidote ingredient at the same time. The Living Hell Decoction requires a balance of the two to produce the ideal effect."
Several exclamations rang out in the classroom. Snape's expression froze, and his black eyes stared at Kevin. After a moment's silence, he almost gritted his teeth and said, "…Correct. What are you waiting for? Write it down quickly."
Kevin could sense Snape's reluctance. The professor was clearly looking forward to seeing him make a fool of himself. It seemed that he knew that Slytherin had lost points in the Transfiguration class yesterday because of him.
In the following classes, Snape obviously avoided Kevin and treated other students more harshly. When the bell finally rang, almost everyone breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly packed up their things to escape from this depressing classroom.
"Hawthorne," Snape suddenly called out to Kevin, who was about to leave, "Stay."
"I don't care what Flitwick and McGonagall think of you," Snape said, his voice almost lower than a whisper, "there are no special treatments in my class. Do you understand?"
"Understood, Professor."
Snape stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly turned around: "You can go."
As soon as Kevin walked into the hallway, he was surrounded by his three roommates.
"Merlin!" Wesley grabbed his shoulders excitedly, "How do you know the answer to that question? That sounds like NEWTs!"
"I read it in the book Advanced Potion Making that I bought in Diagon Alley," Kevin replied, then lowered his voice, "Let's talk while we walk."
The four of them walked up the underground corridor, and it was not until the sunlight shone on them again that they felt they had truly escaped from the depressing atmosphere of the Potions classroom.
"Professor Snape is… indeed very strict," Fabian chose his words carefully, "But my father said that the best surgeons are often the most demanding teachers."
"He was trying to make things difficult for you," Ernesto said suddenly, his grey eyes flickering with displeasure, "because you embarrassed the Slytherins in Transfiguration."
Kevin was somewhat surprised at Ernesto's outspokenness; this pure-blood roommate seemed to be less and less shy about expressing his opposition to the school's prejudices.
"But his abilities are indeed outstanding," Kevin said impartially. "I noticed that there was a brew of Felicis Potion in the cabinet in his office. It is a very advanced potion."
"How did you see that?" Wesley asked curiously.
"Uh… the door was open when I passed by," Kevin quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, Snape's ability as a potion master is unquestionable, but as a teacher…"
"It was a nightmare," Wesley replied, shaking dramatically.
Fabian pushed up his glasses. "According to educational psychology, strict teachers can often produce the best students, but the price is…"
"It's the self-confidence and interest of most students," Ernesto unexpectedly finished the sentence, "One of my Hufflepuff cousins said that Snape humiliated him in the Potions class, causing him to not dare to touch the crucible until now."
The three roommates looked at Ernesto in surprise, not expecting him to share such a family anecdote. Ernesto seemed to realize his gaffe and lowered his head, but did not take back his words.
"At least we made it through the first class," Kevin said, alleviating the embarrassment at the right time, "and we didn't get any points deducted, which is much better than Gryffindor."
The four of them walked into the courtyard, the autumn sun shining warmly on their shoulders. Kevin looked back at the dark corner of the castle, which led to the underground classroom. The abnormal magic of Snape still lingered in his mind—those traces of darkness and light intertwined, it was really the first time he encountered such a special situation.
"Hey, genius, stop daydreaming!" Ernesto nudged him with his elbow, his tone returning to his usual arrogant tone, "See you in the library after dinner? I need to 'borrow' your potion notes."
"Of course," Kevin agreed with a smile, temporarily putting aside his questions about Snape.
The four boys walked towards the auditorium, their shadows lengthening in the setting sun.
_____________
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