Wands and Wings

Chapter 12 : Potions Mastery

The Potions classroom was a haven of simmering cauldrons and the pungent aroma of magical ingredients. Professor Snape, his eyes glinting like polished obsidian, commanded the room with his imposing presence.

"Tell me, boy," said Snape, pinning the struggling beetle to his desk with his wand, "what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry, who had never heard of either of these ingredients, thought Hermione might know the answer. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry hesitates for a moment before answering, and Snape takes this opportunity to berate him further:

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape sneered. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this point, Hermione, unable to resist answering, raises her hand and replies correctly, to which Snape responds with his characteristic sneer:

"One point will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek, Miss Granger."

"Today," Snape announced, his voice like a low, ominous rumble, "we delve into the art of brewing the Draught of Living Death, a potion requiring exceptional skill and precision. Pay attention; this is not a potion to be taken lightly."

Maia, her eyes alight with excitement, meticulously prepared her workspace. She could practically feel the magic in the air as she gathered the ingredients. Her nimble fingers measured powdered bicorn horn and crushed sopophorous bean, her movements confident and practiced.

Meanwhile, Harry, seated beside her, struggled with the meticulous measurements. Snape's gaze, sharp as ever, landed on Harry's cauldron, his lip curling in disdain. "Potter," he sneered, "perhaps you'd benefit from paying more attention to Miss Potter's expertise. Five points from Gryffindor for your carelessness."

Maia, feeling a surge of protectiveness for her brother, spoke up. "Professor, may I assist him? We are a team, after all."

Snape's lip twitched, the closest he came to showing approval. "Very well, Miss Potter. Help your brother, but remember, your performance reflects on Gryffindor."

Determined, Maia guided Harry through the process, explaining the finer points of the potion-making art. Surprisingly, Snape approached them, his demeanor less harsh than usual. "You seem to grasp the subtleties of potion ingredients quite well, Miss Potter. Explain to me the significance of the crushed moonstone."

Maia met Snape's eyes with confidence. "Crushed moonstone, when added at the precise moment, enhances the potion's dreamless sleep properties, making the Draught of Living Death truly effective. It balances the potion, preventing it from being too potent or too weak."

Snape's eyebrow arched ever so slightly, a sign of his begrudging acknowledgment. "Correct, Miss Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor for your understanding."

The class continued, and under Maia's guidance, Harry's potion steadily improved. When their cauldron finally emitted the desired silvery smoke, Snape's lip curled into a rare, reluctant smile. "Acceptable, Potter. You've managed not to completely disgrace yourself today."

As the class ended and students filed out, Maia felt a mix of satisfaction and determination. Snape's recognition, however begrudging, filled her with a sense of accomplishment. Hogwarts was proving to be a challenge, but with each potion brewed successfully, she was carving her path, proving that even in the face of prejudice, knowledge and skill could prevail.