The dungeon was colder than usual, the chill seeping into Harry's robes as he took his seat beside Hermione. Neville slid in next to them, looking as nervous as ever. Around the room, students muttered amongst themselves, already dreading whatever Professor Snape had planned for today.
The door at the front of the class swung open with a sharp creak.
Professor Snape entered, his robes billowing behind him. He swept a cold gaze across the students before speaking.
"Today, you will attempt a Wit-Sharpening Potion," Snape announced. "A rather simple concoction—at least, for those with a modicum of intelligence. For the rest of you, I expect nothing less than catastrophic failure."
A few students shifted uncomfortably.
"Wit-Sharpening Potion," Hermione whispered, eyeing the empty board. "I read about it last night. It's a borderline second-year potion."
Harry smirked. "Bet Snape enjoys making people struggle."
Neville groaned. "That means I'm doomed."
Snape flicked his wand, and the instructions appeared on the board in his neat, precise handwriting.
Wit-Sharpening Potion Ingredients:
Ground scarab beetles
Ginger root
Armadillo bile
Dried billywig stings
Method:
Finely crush the scarab beetles into a uniform powder.
Slice the ginger root into precise, thin strips, no more than two millimeters thick.
Add the armadillo bile in controlled increments, stirring counterclockwise between each addition.
Drop in billywig stings one at a time, allowing the mixture to settle before stirring.
Simmer on low heat until the potion turns a clear, pale blue.
"You will follow these instructions exactly," Snape continued, his voice dangerously soft. "If any of you attempt to improvise, do not expect sympathy when your cauldron explodes. Begin."
The class erupted into motion.
Harry and Hermione worked efficiently, already familiar with most of the ingredients. Harry reached for the scarab beetles first, dumping them into the stone mortar and picking up the pestle. He pressed down, rolling it in steady circles, breaking the beetles down into fine dust.
Beside him, Hermione had already moved on to slicing the ginger root. She angled the knife carefully, measuring each piece before cutting.
Across the room, Ron let out a frustrated sigh. "This is impossible."
"It's just a root, Ron," Seamus muttered, squinting at his own cutting board. His slices were wildly uneven.
Harry ignored them, pouring the finely ground scarab powder into his cauldron. The moment it hit the heated water, it sizzled and darkened. Hermione followed suit, and their cauldrons took on a similar dark brown hue.
"Here, let me," Hermione said to Neville, who was struggling to cut the ginger root properly. She guided his hand carefully, showing him the proper technique.
Neville exhaled, nodding. "Thanks, Hermione."
Snape glided through the room, pausing beside Lavender Brown's station. He sneered down at her potion, which had turned an unfortunate shade of murky green.
"Tell me, Miss Brown," Snape drawled. "At what point did you decide to replace competence with vinegar?"
Lavender turned bright red, frantically flipping through her textbook.
Snape didn't wait for an answer. He continued his rounds, stopping behind Ron and Seamus, who were both looking at their cauldrons in mild horror.
Ron gulped. "Uh… Professor, is it supposed to be bubbling like that?"
Snape waved his wand, and the cauldron's contents solidified into a useless lump. "No, Mr. Weasley. It is not. Five points from Gryffindor for brewing… whatever that is."
As the rest of the class struggled, Harry and Hermione were steadily progressing through the potion's steps.
Harry added the ginger root, watching as the potion lightened slightly.
"Alright, armadillo bile," he murmured. He measured the thick, dark liquid carefully before pouring it in small increments, stirring counterclockwise after each addition.
His potion turned from brown to a dull blue. Hermione's was already a shade lighter.
Neville, however, hesitated as he added his bile, then stirred clockwise instead of counterclockwise.
Harry barely had time to shout, "Neville, wait—"
His cauldron let out a sharp hiss, the mixture turning an alarming shade of purple.
"Longbottom."
Neville flinched as Snape loomed over him.
"Did I or did I not instruct you to stir counterclockwise?"
Neville swallowed. "I—I thought—"
"You thought, did you?" Snape's voice was a slow, dangerous drawl. "Five points from Gryffindor for your thinking."
Harry clenched his jaw but said nothing.
By the time the class was nearing its end, Harry and Hermione's potions had turned a pale, crystal blue, exactly as described in the book.
Snape passed by Hermione first. "Acceptable."
Hermione sat up straighter, barely hiding her pleased expression.
Then Snape reached Harry's.
He peered into the cauldron, his expression unreadable.
"Surprising," he murmured.
Harry wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment.
Snape straightened. "Class dismissed."
Chairs scraped against the stone floor as students rushed to leave.
"Potter. Stay behind."
Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione before nodding. "I'll catch up."
The door closed, and Snape fixed him with a piercing gaze.
"You saw more than you should have the other night."
Harry squared his shoulders. "I didn't ask to."
Snape's expression didn't change. "That does not concern me. What concerns me is that you did."
Harry hesitated. "Why did I see it?"
Snape was silent for a long moment before finally answering. "It was not a dream. Nor was it an accident."
Harry frowned. "Then what was it?"
Snape exhaled slowly. "That, Potter, is what I intend to find out."
A chill ran down Harry's spine.
Snape folded his arms. "Which is why you will continue with Occlumency."
Harry scowled. "I already have good control."
Snape's eyes darkened. "You have instinct. That is not control." He took a slow step forward. "If you do not learn to protect your mind, someone will use it against you."
Harry felt his pulse quicken. "You mean Quirrell."
Snape's lips pressed into a thin line.
"You think he—"
"Never mind, it is not your concern, Potter," Snape cut in sharply. "What is your concern is ensuring it does not happen again."
Harry hesitated. He knew Snape was right, his visions came without warning, and if Quirrell was involved…
He exhaled. "Alright."
Snape inclined his head slightly. "Do not be late to your next lesson."
Something about his tone made Harry pause. It wasn't a threat.
It was an expectation.