Snape's cold voice echoed through the classroom.
"Judging by your confidence, Mr. Lin, one might assume that your favor with Dumbledore makes you feel exempt from paying attention in my class."
The Slytherin students behind Lin Mei stirred excitedly.
Moments ago, they had been silenced by his presence. But now, watching him face Snape's scrutiny, they relished the shift in power.
Ron, feeling guilty, hesitated before finally speaking up.
"Professor Snape, I—" He lifted Lin Mei's book, intending to return it.
Snape's sharp gaze cut through him instantly.
"Mr. Weasley! This is my class. If you wish to speak, raise your hand and wait your turn!"
Ron's neck shrank back as he quickly shut his mouth.
Snape turned his attention back to Lin Mei, stepping closer.
"If you don't have your book, that must mean you've memorized everything. Let's see if that's true." His lips curled slightly. "Tell me, what happens when daffodil root powder is added to a mugwort infusion?"
Hermione shot her hand into the air, eager to answer.
Lin Mei sighed internally. You brought this on yourself, Snape.
Without hesitation, he responded, "The combination creates a powerful hypnotic potion—Life and Death Draught."
Snape's expression flickered for a brief moment, but he pressed on.
"If I asked you to find me a bezoar, where would you look?"
"In the stomach of a goat," Lin Mei answered coolly.
"What is the purpose of a bezoar?"
"A bezoar is a stone found in a goat's stomach that acts as a powerful antidote against most poisons."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They're the same plant. No difference."
"How many categories do mushrooms fall into?"
"Mushrooms are generally divided into three categories: edible, medicinal, and toxic."
Lin Mei's voice was calm and steady, his answers precise. The classroom was silent, students watching in awe.
For a split second, Snape's mouth curved slightly in what almost seemed like approval—but just as quickly, his stern expression returned.
"Well done," he admitted. "It seems you have indeed studied thoroughly. However, knowledge alone is not enough. Practical experience is the true test of skill. Next class, I expect you to bring your textbook and pay closer attention."
Lin Mei nodded slightly, saying nothing.
Snape straightened.
"Some geniuses may memorize an entire book," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "However, failure to bring required materials will not be overlooked. Gryffindor loses five points for failing to bring the textbook to the first lesson."
Lin Mei clenched his jaw. Seriously?
But before he could protest, Snape added, "However, Gryffindor gains ten points for demonstrating exceptional potion knowledge."
Lin Mei blinked.
Oh, so we're playing that kind of game?
He glanced at Snape, speechless.
From that point on, Lin Mei tuned out of the lesson, casually flipping through other books while Snape returned to his usual target—Harry Potter.
Days passed, each bringing new challenges and discoveries.
The most notable event was the break-in at Gringotts, which caught Lin Mei's attention immediately. He recalled that the vault in question had once held the Philosopher's Stone, created by Nicolas Flamel.
And the only one desperate enough to seek such an artifact? Voldemort.
Beyond that, Lin Mei found himself becoming a well-known figure at Hogwarts—not just among students, but among professors as well.
His intelligence, self-discipline, and seemingly limitless learning capacity made him a rare standout.
Not only did he display an exceptional grasp of Potions, but he excelled in every subject, absorbing knowledge as if there were no limits.
His reputation spread quickly, and soon, he found himself an unintentional rival to Hermione Granger, who prided herself on academic excellence.
But unlike Hermione, Lin Mei remained grounded.
He understood that in a place like Hogwarts, every student had their own unique talents and strengths. His advantage wasn't intelligence alone—it was the fact that he had simply found his path earlier than most.
Instead of basking in his growing reputation, Lin Mei dedicated his spare time to research, spending hours in the Hogwarts library exploring the lesser-known fields of magic.
One subject captivated him: magic patterns.
"The enchantments for the Shield Charm and the Transformation Spell both have corresponding magic patterns…" Lin Mei muttered, flipping through an ancient tome.
According to his research, these patterns could be inscribed onto objects to give them permanent magical properties.
The idea fascinated him.
If I could weave magic patterns into my wizard's robe, I could create built-in protections…
But there was a problem.
Whenever he tried carving the patterns, his robes burst into flames almost instantly.
Frowning, he examined the burnt scraps of fabric.
His theories were correct—but ordinary materials couldn't handle the energy of magic patterns.
Determined to solve the issue, Lin Mei sought out Dumbledore.
The headmaster listened patiently to Lin Mei's explanation, then nodded.
"The issue is simple," Dumbledore said. "Regular robes cannot withstand the power of magic patterns. Only materials that have undergone alchemical enhancement—or those derived from magical creatures—can endure such enchantments."
Lin Mei's mind raced.
If he wanted to make his idea a reality, he needed to dive into the study of alchemy.
A new challenge.
A new field of magic to master.
And Lin Mei was more than ready.
"Lin, the next class is Madam Hooch's flying lesson! Let's go quickly!"
Harry's face lit up with excitement. After weeks of theory lessons, the first-years were finally getting the chance to practice flying on broomsticks.
"You guys go ahead. I'll catch up in a bit," Lin Mei replied, casually waving his wand to return the scattered items on the ground to their proper places.
Unlike the others, Lin Mei wasn't particularly excited about flying lessons.
To him, broomsticks simply weren't cool enough.
In the Marvel world, he had seen—and even fought alongside—people who could fly effortlessly. Compared to the sleek, high-tech flight systems of Tony Stark or the mystical levitation of Kunlun warriors, wobbling around on a wooden broomstick felt... underwhelming.
If he ever dared to fly a broom in front of someone like Tony, he'd never hear the end of it. The teasing would last a lifetime.
So, he had already made up his mind—unless absolutely necessary, he would not be using a broomstick in any other world.
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