The Black Heir

Three

Three

Hogwarts, Scotland

If Hadrian wasn't used to being stared and gaped at as he had become throughout the years, then he probably would have been more than annoyed. He might have hexed them once or twice, earning himself an earful when he went back home. Andromeda always did tell him regardless of how much they annoyed him to no end, he should never be the one to resort to the physical violence. There was always a peaceful way to settle the match. Hadrian didn't tell Andromeda so, but he thought that was a load of a bullshit. How would you hope to talk sense into the people that refused to listen?

Professor Severeus Snape strode into the classroom in a rather dramatic motion, his long dark robes sweeping past him like a fancy dress as he stopped mid-walk, facing them with a narrowed, lukewarm expression on his pale face. Looking quite like he would much rather be doing anything else than teaching a couple of eleven-years-old little twats a potions class, Professor Snape stopped on his name for a mid-second, a brief look of a recognition flashing through his eyes before he continued his work.

Once he was done, he immediately began to speak, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making,"His voice was of a low volume, like he was deliberately pitching his voice to sound as terrible as humanly possible. Though, Hadrian had a feeling that was his actual voice. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach. "

He then immediately turned to a rather tall, dark-haired boy with blue eyes whom Hadrian briefly remembered from the night before, and he drawled, promising lots of a pain and suffering in the boy's future. "Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Augustus Potter seemed to have shrunk in the size. "I do not know, sir." Despite his rather unfortunate situation, there was something about him that still told him he had yet to lose his natural confidence.

"Let's try again, Potter." Snape sneered at the other boy. "where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" It was quite obvious there was some personal agenda Snape had against Potter. Seeing as it didn't look as if he was about to avert his attention to anybody else. Sure, Snape could be the sort of a teacher who just liked picking on the students, but Hadrian didn't think so. It was personal here. Though, he couldn't resonate why exactly Dumbledore would hire someone who would step so low as to use a personal agenda in the classroom. "Clearly, your father had forgotten to educate you properly." He said the word in a sneer, like the very mention of Potter's father was enough to receive his ire.

"One last chance, what is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

It seemed that Potter have had had quite enough of being humiliated publicly, and decided to revert to a silent tactic. If the pure raged look on Snape's face was to indicate anything at all, it didn't have quite an effect Potter thought it would have.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from the most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"