I followed Harry into the Potions classroom, which was just as dark and depressing as the rest of the dungeons. The two of us sat at a desk at the very front with Ron. A man with shoulder-length black hair and black robes stood at the front of the room, looking quite sullen and unpleasant.
"I am Professor Severus Snape," he said after everyone had stopped talking. He then spotted my friends and I, and sneered. "Well, it looks like we have the celebrity, Harry Potter. Tell me, Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione's hand shot straight up into the air.
Everybody stared at Harry, who was turning pink with embarrassment.
"I-I don't know, sir," he said.
Professor Snape's sneer grew.
"Fame clearly isn't everything," he said, ignoring Hermione's hand. "Let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Hermione stretched her hand as high as it could go.
"I don't know," Harry said again.
Hearing muffled laughter, I turned my head. At the back of the classroom, Draco and his bought friends were the source. I glared at them, then turned back to the interrogation between Severus Snape and Harry Potter.
"Thought you would at least open a book before stepping foot in my class, eh, Potter?" Professor Snape drawled, still ignoring Hermione. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Isn't it already obvious that Harry doesn't know anything about Potions? Why do you keep embarrassing him by asking him more questions?
Hermione stood up, reaching her hand to the ceiling.
"I don't know," repeated Harry. "Why don't you try Hermione, though?"
A few people laughed.
"Sit down," Professor Snape snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as Draught of the Living Death."
He went on to explain a bezoar was found in a goat's stomach, and that monkshood and wolfsbane were pretty much the same exact things.
"Well? Why aren't you copying any of this down?" he finished.
Everyone quickly searched for their quills, parchment, and ink. I lazily grabbed my quill and dipped it in some ink, then wrote the simplest answers I could.
Asphodel and wormwood make Draught Living Death.
Bezoar in goat's stomach.
Monkshood and wolfsbane = same thing.
Harry looked over at my answers for a second and scoffed slightly. I chuckled.
Snape walked to the back of the room and announced, "A point will be taken from Gryffindor for Potter's stupidity."
Rude.
For the rest of the lesson, Snape was strict to everyone except Draco — and, for some reason, me. I can understand why he wasn't rude to Draco —since he's a Malfoy, and the Malfoys bribe everyone—, but why on earth was he nice to me?
Well, "nice" is a bit of a stretch. He didn't make any snooty comments about the potion I brewed, even though I forgot one of the ingredients and stirred the wrong way.
After the lesson finally finished, Harry, Ron, and I walked to the Great Hall for lunch.
"I don't like him," Harry said. "He seemed to only favor two students. No offence, Evie."
YOU ARE READING
Evelyn Riddle and the Philosopher's Stone
Fanfiction"If my dad could hear us, you'd already be dead, Ron." My name is Evelyn Willow Jane - or, as most people call me, Evie. I've lived with the Malfoys for my whole life because of one teensy problem - not long after I was born, my father tried to murd...
