HOGWARTS - HARRY

"Huh?"

When Ron heard they would be attending Potions class with the Slytherins, his expression suddenly became animated.

He winked at the others and said, "I heard the head of Slytherin is even stricter than Professor McGonagall!"

Neville whispered nervously, "And only when it comes to students from other houses. He seems to be quite kind to his own."

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

Not a big problem.

He'd wait until after class to judge for himself.

Professor Snape began taking attendance.

When he reached Harry's name, his voice paused for a moment.

"Oh! Let's see, the famous Harry Potter."

Snape's cold, expressionless gaze landed on Harry, empty yet tinged with hostility.

"Dylan Hawkwood."

"Professor, I'm here!"

Dylan's voice was firm and confident, immediately drawing Snape's attention.

However, when Snape looked at him, Dylan's eyes shone with an intensity that was… unsettling.

It felt as though a starving dog had just spotted a fresh meat bun.

Snape's brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing and continued down the list.

Once he finished, he set the parchment down on his desk and scanned the room.

"Welcome, a bunch of foolish little wizards."

His voice was low and sharp, filled with contempt yet utterly captivating.

"Potions is not magic—it is a precise and exacting craft. You will not be waving your wands like idiots in this classroom."

He glanced at Malfoy before continuing.

"I do not expect all of you to appreciate the beauty of the white steam rising from a simmering cauldron, the delicate power of liquids flowing through blood to stir the mind and ensnare the senses…"

A pause.

"But for those few who possess true talent, I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even prevent death."

His tone turned sharp.

"Of course, only a select few. Some of you will never understand the intricacies of potion-making, no matter how hard you try."

The class, hearing that potions could prevent death, collectively widened their eyes in shock.

Dylan, too, felt an intense eagerness build within him.

Potions was indeed a profound and mysterious subject.

What Snape had just said wasn't mere boasting—he was speaking the truth.

The Elixir of Life was real.

During his wait for the school term to start, Dylan had read extensively about potions. His knowledge of traditional Chinese medicine from his past life made him instinctively compare it to magic potions.

At first, the similarities were apparent—both involved mixing various herbs to balance or amplify medicinal properties.

But the deeper he studied, the more differences he found.

While the herbs in Chinese medicine had remarkable effects, they lacked mystical properties.

In contrast, the ingredients in magical potions contained intrinsic magical energy.

That realization led him to another thought: chemistry.

Centuries ago, who would have believed that chemistry could create explosions?

Potions and chemistry both involved the transformation and interaction of substances.

Unicorn horn powder, mandrake roots, salamander eyes…

Acid and alkali reactions, oxidation and reduction…

There were undeniable similarities.

Both required meticulous control.

A pinch here, a drop there… precise measurements, exact timing.

If anything, magical potions had more in common with pharmaceutical chemistry than traditional Chinese medicine.

In essence, brewing potions was like physically constructing a spell.

The magical properties of ingredients were gradually released through boiling, stirring, and processing—like a spell taking shape.

The number of stirs and the technique used were akin to chanting an incantation.

The finished potion itself was a stored spell, ready to be activated upon consumption.

Dylan's passion for potions surged.

This was a field worth dedicating his life to.

As for Professor Snape…

Well, he was just a "good teacher with a bad attitude."

Nothing to be afraid of.

Snape's sharp gaze settled on Harry.

"Little celebrity, your arrival has certainly stirred up Hogwarts."

Harry stiffened.

"Answer me—what are the effects of adding wormwood infusion to powdered root of asphodel?"

Dylan knew the answer.

But since he sat in the front row and Harry preferred the back, there was no way to help.

Caught off guard, Harry looked utterly lost.

Snape's voice grew colder.

He fired off two more questions, but Harry had no clue.

The strange look in Snape's eyes deepened.

"One point from Gryffindor."

Dylan wasn't surprised.

Instead, he focused intently on every step of Snape's brewing instructions.

The man might have a poisonous tongue, but he was an undeniable genius.

Dylan was determined to learn everything this proud, venomous professor had to offer.

By the time Snape reached Harry's row again, Gryffindor had lost five points.

When he passed by Dylan's table, he seemed prepared to deliver another sharp remark—

Until he noticed Dylan's potion.

Every step had been executed with absolute precision.

Snape hesitated for a fraction of a second, surprise flickering in his dark eyes.

But, of course, he didn't return the lost points.

Instead, he turned to walk away.

Unexpectedly, Dylan spoke up.

"Professor Snape, please don't leave yet. I have a few key points I'd like to ask you."

Snape froze.

His cloak, which had just started to billow, halted abruptly.

Slowly, he turned back toward Dylan, his gaze unreadable.

"You managed to talk while brewing a potion. One point from Gryffindor."

Dylan: "Fine. But my question is—"

Without hesitation, he began firing off several inquiries.

To the surprise of everyone in the class, Snape actually answered them.

One by one.

As their discussion continued, Snape's expression subtly shifted.

The more he spoke, the more he realized—

This boy was different.

Unlike the usual dunderheads in his class, Dylan understood potions.

He absorbed information like a sponge, grasping even complex concepts with ease.

It was… impressive.

For the first time in years, Snape found himself engaged in actual discussion rather than lecturing fools.

Although he would never openly admit it, his impression of Dylan Hawkwood had changed—slightly.

Dylan, meanwhile, grinned.

Achievement mission complete!

Now, what's my reward?

(End of Chapter)

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