Chapter 108: Snape's Change
It was nine o'clock sharp in the Potions classroom.
Professor Snape, like Professor Flitwick, had the habit of taking roll call immediately after class began. And just like Flitwick, he paused ever so slightly when reading a particular name.
"Oh yes," he murmured coldly, "Harry Potter — our new... celebrity."
Harry blinked in confusion. Just as he'd suspected, this so-called friend of his mother's clearly didn't like him. In fact, he seemed to dislike Harry even more than Harry had imagined.
He cast a brief glance at Alexander Smith, who quickly returned the look with a similarly puzzled expression. Both were silently trying to make sense of Snape's strange attitude.
From Alexander's point of view, although Snape was undeniably intimidating and didn't even bother to mask his disdain, he had been somewhat more attentive toward him — almost oddly so. But if Snape truly was his mother's friend, why was he treating Harry with such disdain and sarcasm?
Snape didn't appear to notice the silent exchange between Harry and Alexander, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. Harry's hurt expression, so reminiscent of Lily Evans's — her emerald green eyes especially — struck something deep within him. It felt as though Lily herself were staring back, silently questioning his cruelty.
Snape abruptly stopped calling out names, pretending he had finished the list.
He swept his gaze across the room. The warmth Alexander had fleetingly seen in Snape's eyes moments earlier had vanished, replaced with a cold, hollow stare — like staring down the throat of two dark tunnels.
> "This Snape is fascinating," Alexander mused, almost amused. "Using Occlumency right before class? That's dedication."
> "Or maybe he's sealing away the last shred of sympathy he has for Harry Potter," he added silently. "So he can torment him without remorse. Typical Slytherin."
Snape's voice dropped to just above a whisper, yet it carried perfectly across the room.
> "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."
> "As there is little foolish wand-waving in this class, many of you will hardly believe this is magic."
> "I don't expect you to truly appreciate the delicate power of a bubbling cauldron, the soft shimmer of vapors, the gentle waft of fragrant steam—"
Alexander nearly groaned aloud.
> "Honestly, this speech suits any house except Hufflepuff. We're the ones simmering cauldrons all day in the lounge — cooking real meals, not just potions."
> "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death — if, and only if, you are not the dunderheads I so often have the misfortune to teach."
As he said dunderheads, Snape's gaze flicked sharply toward the Hufflepuff section.
Several Ravenclaws lifted their chins smugly, Michael Corner most of all.
Harry and Ron exchanged glances and subtly slid their chairs a little further from Michael, clearly distancing themselves.
Hermione leaned forward, nearly off her seat, eager to prove she was no fool. She was practically vibrating with energy.
Suddenly, Snape's eyes narrowed.
"You — dark-haired Ravenclaw!" he snapped, frowning. He hadn't caught the boy's name, so he resorted to a description. "Where would you find a bezoar?"
"Me, sir?" Michael asked, taken aback. "I'm Michael Corner."
"No one asked for your name. Just answer the question."
The Hufflepuffs, who had just been laughing quietly at Michael's earlier arrogance, fell completely silent. Snape's words had an uncanny ability to dominate the room.
"I—I don't know," Michael stammered.
Terry Boot groaned beside him, covering his face with his palm, while Hermione raised her hand so high she nearly sprained her shoulder.
"Pathetic," Snape sneered. "So not all Ravenclaws are clever. Some are exactly the fools I warned about."
A few Hufflepuff first-years chuckled. Dudley Dursley's laugh was particularly noticeable, but strangely, Snape said nothing. He seemed to tolerate Dudley more than anyone else.
Alexander noticed something subtle: after Dudley openly sided against Michael, a few Hufflepuffs who had been wary of him earlier began inching closer, slowly starting to accept him. Dudley caught on, and a surprised smile formed on his face.
"Potter," Snape said suddenly, fixing Harry with a sharp look, though something softer flickered in his eyes. "You answer."
"In the stomach of a cow," Harry responded confidently, mentally thanking Alexander — who had drilled him with this question just yesterday.
Snape's expression twitched, as if he were caught off guard.
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he asked, voice slightly trembling.
"Draught of Living Death?" Harry replied, raising an eyebrow. "That's not first-year curriculum, is it?"
Snape ignored the comment. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"No difference. They're the same plant — aconite," Harry answered. He emphasized the word sir at the end. "Sir."
"Very good. Ten points to Ravenclaw."
The class stared. Snape hadn't even corrected Harry for skipping "professor." His sallow face was tinged with red, and his dark eyes seemed... softer.
"Can I sit down now?" Michael Corner asked sulkily.
"Yes," Snape replied without removing points.
Then his eyes narrowed again.
"Michael — and you others — do you think you're as talented as Harry?"
"Granger, your hand is about to go through the ceiling. Put it down."
"And why haven't you all started writing this down?"
The classroom erupted in a flurry of parchment and scribbling quills.
The rest of the Potions lesson proceeded without major incident. Despite the initial tension, Snape's hostility toward Ravenclaw had diminished, likely because the Hufflepuffs had diverted much of his attention.
Snape paired everyone into teams of two to brew a basic scabies-curing potion. He listed the ingredients and steps on the blackboard, then stalked the classroom like a bat in a dungeon, inspecting every cauldron.
Most students were criticized sharply — some brutally — but surprisingly, not Harry. Or Alexander.
Hermione only survived because Alexander kept his head down and absorbed most of Snape's glare. But Harry? He was treated almost... kindly.
Snape's attitude toward him had visibly shifted after Harry's answers. He now looked at him like a promising apprentice — a sharp contrast from mere moments ago.
It didn't go unnoticed.
The whispers after class were unmistakable: Harry's connection to Professor Snape wasn't just a rumor.
And Alexander Smith knew, deep down, that something about today had changed.
Something... important.
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