Oh my god! This behavior—it is exactly like her Master’s.
Without a mirror, Lin Shu couldn't see her own expression, but she could guess that it must be indescribable. Looking at Snape’s face, she was instantly transported back to the days of corporal punishment under her Master.
Her Master’s golden rule was that the sect did not support idlers. His requirements for his disciples were incredibly high; if they failed to meet his standards by even a hair, they were denied food and sleep. She was sick to death of hearing the phrase "extra practice"! She had thought she was free when she came to Hogwarts, but now fate had sent her a professor who looked 70 percent like her Master. At that moment, she realized that fate had never planned to let her off the hook!
*Sob—*
She wept silently, praying sincerely to the heavens that the Professor’s temper would not be like her Master’s.
The next second, Snape’s voice rang out:
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death. I must reiterate, perhaps some of you feel that because of your reputation at Hogwarts, you are so confident that you need not pay attention."
Snape paused deliberately, his gaze fixed on one spot. Lin Shu dared not look back, but her intuition told her someone was about to suffer. Sure enough, a moment later, Snape spoke again:
"Mr. Potter, our new celebrity. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry shook his head, clearly unable to answer. But Professor Snape had no intention of letting him off the hook.
"You don't know? Then let's try another question. Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"
"I don't know, Professor."
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"I still don't know, Professor."
Snape remained expressionless, coolly uttering a biting remark:
"Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything. Is that right, Mr. Potter?"
Lin Shu closed her eyes; her heart, which had been suspended in mid-air, finally withered. Professor Snape was exactly like her Master—his mouth was as if smeared with poison. Sarcasm was the least of his talents; if provoked, he could curse for three days and nights without repeating a single word.
Well, that’s that. Just close your eyes! Life is short; it will pass in a moment. Let her just drift away with the wind!
Whether she opened her eyes or kept them shut, all she could see was the hybrid face of her Master and Snape. To her, it was simply a nightmare.
But the others didn't know her internal turmoil and were still focused on the situation at hand. Harry, feeling unfairly targeted, couldn't help but retort:
"Professor! Clearly, Hermione knows the answer—it's a pity you won't let her answer."
"Gryffindors, take note! Because your classmate is being disrespectful to a teacher, ten points will be taken from your house. Now, Shu Lin, why don't you answer my question?"
Called out by name, Lin Shu wished she could just drop dead on the spot. Because Snape was so much like her Master, she couldn't summon a shred of rebellion or resentment; instead, she felt an instinctive sense of nervousness and fear. She thought, *I’m a Slytherin student!* Didn't they say this professor wouldn't make things difficult for his own students? So what was she? Was he just a misanthrope?
She was truly sobbing internally! *Waaah!*
"I’m sorry, Professor, I don't know either. It is my fault for not previewing the lesson, and I will definitely correct this next time."
Snape looked at her, his eyes seemingly capable of piercing through everything, making it impossible to meet his gaze. Still showing no signs of joy or anger, he pulled his black robes tighter and arrived in front of Lin Shu’s desk with lightning speed. Then, his voice sounded like a dark incantation:
"For your reference, Shu Lin! Asphodel root and wormwood make a powerful sleeping potion—the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and can save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also known as aconite."
Lin Shu nodded while scribbling furiously, her attitude earnest, which actually improved Snape’s mood quite a bit. But when he saw the other students—aside from Lin Shu—looking dull, stupid, and indifferent, his slightly improved mood vanished once more.
"The rest of you, why aren't you writing this down?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of pages turning and pens scratching on parchment erupted.
"Shu Lin! Miss from the East, because of your ignorance, you have won yourself half a semester of detention! Come to my office after class. I trust your walnut-sized brain can remember such a simple request, right?"
"Yes, I’ll remember, Professor."
Lin Shu answered dejectedly, but she couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. In the end, Professor Snape was only giving her detention and not finding twisted ways to drill her, so she was already quite content. She figured that anyone who had undergone traditional Chinese-style education could understand the bitterness of it. Compared to that, mere detention—without being starved, dehydrated, beaten, or scolded—was actually quite a mild measure.
Lin Shu had a very resilient mindset. She soon forgot about the detention and began listening with great interest as Professor Snape explained the procedure for brewing a Cure for Boils. She took detailed notes as she listened.
To be honest, she felt that Western Potion-making had much in common with the alchemy of the East. Back in her sect, she had studied a vast number of medicinal formulas, and she could still recite the one for treating boils by heart. It was just that in this magical world, the materials used were different, and she wasn't sure which was more effective. Thinking of this, she couldn't wait to start the practical work and test the efficacy of these Western potions.
Soon, students began pairing up. Snape didn't interfere much, simply standing coldly on the podium watching the little brats scramble to find their preferred partners. As a popular figure in Slytherin, Lin Shu received many invitations.
Just as she was about to agree to a pair-up with a sweet-looking girl, Malfoy strode over aggressively. With a single glance from him, the sweet girl retreated at high speed until she was ten meters away from Lin Shu. Clearly, with him standing there, Lin Shu wouldn't be finding any other partner.
However, working alone seemed better—the pace was entirely in her own hands, allowing her to perform better. With this thought, she began her preparations. She put on her gloves and goggles and arranged her materials—horned slugs, porcupine quills, snake fangs, mortar, cauldron, and wand—neatly on the desk. Her movements were skillful, revealing a grace that was pleasing to the eye.
As for Malfoy, had he not been concerned about the occasion, he would have been stomping with rage.
"Shu! Can’t you see I’m right next to you?"
"I see you."
Malfoy was choked by Lin Shu’s righteous and oblivious tone, unable to utter a word for a long while. After a long pause and a deep breath, he put on his own gloves and goggles and stood even closer to Lin Shu, their robes brushing. Lin Shu tilted her head and saw Malfoy’s furious gaze, which looked as if he wanted to eat her alive.
"What is it, Malfoy? Why aren't you making your potion?"
"Is it not obvious? I, the young master, intend to work with you."
"Oh~ is that so? I thought you’d be with Goyle or Crabbe."
"I choose whoever I want to work with. Besides, I’ve already stood by your side. You didn't even think to invite me. Forget it, you’re as dim-witted as a Troll; I’ve already given up on your brain."
After Malfoy finished speaking, Lin Shu pinched him while Snape wasn't looking. It wasn't a hard pinch, but it caused enough pain. At least, for someone as high-and-mighty as Malfoy, no one had ever dared to treat him like this. He was shocked and furious, nearly crying out, but the next second he met Lin Shu’s displeased expression, and he lost his fire.
"Malfoy, you are not allowed to talk to me like that if you still want to be my friend. I remember telling you: if you want to care about me or be good to me, you can say it openly. Don't be so awkward; I don't like it."
The tension between them was palpable. Clearly, both were stubborn—one asked questions point-blank, while the other held his head high, swearing to his death not to admit he was wrong. But surprisingly, this didn't affect their potion-making progress at all. On the contrary, the two worked with remarkable synergy; even without speaking a word to each other, they perfectly grasped every step of the brewing process.
First, Malfoy placed six snake fangs into the mortar and ground them into a fine powder. Lin Shu preheated the cauldron for one minute, added four measures of the powdered fangs with a small spoon, waved her wand, and turned the heat to high for ten seconds before switching to medium, heating until the potion began to smoke.
Then Malfoy took over: once it was boiling, he extinguished the heat and used the residual warmth to stir and help dissipate the heat. When the exterior of the cauldron was just warm to the touch, he added four slugs and two porcupine quills, stirred five times clockwise until the color changed, and finally waved his wand to finish the brew.
Their first collaboration could be described as seamless, making them the first group to complete their potion. Snape strode over to them in an instant. After checking that the potion was flawless, he took the natural course of awarding Slytherin points.
"The heat, the temperature, and the steps—all perfectly mastered. Ten points to Slytherin! Let me see this cauldron of potion; the color is good enough to be sold in a Hogsmeade shop. Perhaps this is the gap between people! And those of you who haven't finished—why are you staring at me? Look at the potion in your hands! Harry, I’m talking to you. Your potion is about to boil dry. If it explodes, I will personally see you out of this classroom."
Malfoy looked at Harry triumphantly, his face showing undisguised contempt. Harry, targeted by such an unfriendly gaze, naturally looked back. Their eyes met with hostility—neither giving an inch, sparks flying as if they might draw their wands and cast a jinx at any moment.
*BOOM—*
A massive explosion shattered the standoff between Harry and Malfoy and drew everyone's attention. Snape closed his eyes, his thin lips pressed into a straight line. He walked directly to the table of the culprit and hauled him up.
"Very good! Mr. Weasley, I suppose you cannot tell the difference between counter-clockwise and clockwise, wasting an entire cauldron. Or perhaps, should I call you loyal? Seeing your good brother Potter about to melt his cauldron, you stepped in to take the fire for him. Such touching devotion. Excellent! Get out of my classroom! Until your pathetic little brain can grasp basic vocabulary, you will be permanently absent from my class. Gryffindor loses ten points! Make that twenty, because of your ridiculous classmate."