Hogwarts welcomes a new batch of first-year students every year. Led by professors, the newcomers arrive at the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony, marking the beginning of their academic lives.
Having experienced the Sorting Ceremony last night, the new students were now sitting at their respective house tables, eagerly anticipating breakfast on their second day at school. Unable to contain their excitement, they could hardly wait to experience magic classes—with only one exception.
Good heavens! He still couldn't believe he had come to Hogwarts and been sorted into Gryffindor as a first-year!
Everything that happened last night still left this Gryffindor boy in a state of excitement—and bewilderment. That was right, because one of his favorite story characters, Severus Snape, was sitting at the staff table eating breakfast.
An expression of adoration began to appear on the Gryffindor boy's face. He stared fixedly at the entirely black-clad, greasy-haired teacher at the staff table. The man had a prominent hooked nose and a sallow, sickly-looking complexion. His features were half-hidden by his hair on both sides; aside from his somewhat slender-looking fingers, every other part of him was wrapped in black robes.
Yet Alistair clearly didn't care about such superficial things. In his eyes, Snape was a great and deeply affectionate man with unparalleled talent in Potions, who loved Lily Evans with all his heart, acted as a double agent out of a sense of guilt, and ultimately saved the Savior and the entire wizarding world—even if he was a greasy-haired man.
In fact, Alistair believed that as long as Professor Snape made a little effort with his appearance, he would be a dashing and charming man, perhaps even making it onto the wizards' good-looks ranking list.
"If he'd be willing to give me an autograph, I'd die happy," Alistair said, speaking the universal dream of an ultimate fanboy.
"Merlin! Are you out of your mind?!" the person beside him looked at him in disbelief, as if they had just swallowed a slug.
"Professor Snape is glaring at you! Quick, wipe that terrifying look off your face!" Another girl forcibly turned his head back. "Ali, what is wrong with you?!"
As if suddenly snapping back to reality, Alistair rubbed his stiff, smiling face and muttered under his breath, "Professor Snape isn't a bad person at all." Oh god! Snape had just looked over! Ugh, even though his glare was fierce.
Alistair patted his own cheeks. Oh! He wasn't an eleven-year-old kid; he couldn't let himself be carried away by childish naivety.
The year was 1989. He was entering school two years earlier than Harry, which meant he was two years older than Harry!
Oh! He really wanted to ruffle that cute little Harry. If he became brothers with the Savior, maybe he'd run into all sorts of interesting things! The Gryffindor boy's wild imagination took flight.
"We're going to be late, Ali! Hurry up!" The girl with long brown hair pulled Alistair away from the table and began running toward a classroom tucked away in some corner.
"Got it, Xina!"
Following the brown-haired girl through a maze of corridors, Alistair finally reached the classroom. Because their very first class was Potions, he was docked two house points for Gryffindor on the spot.
Alistair looked at his companion with a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry, it's all because I was too slow."
His companion hurriedly waved a hand, pulling him down to sit at an empty desk, and whispered, "It's fine. Rumor has it that Professor Snape is just this strict, especially since Gryffindor is his sworn enemy."
"Another two points from Gryffindor! For—ignoring the professor and talking in class!" A cold voice came from behind Alistair. He felt a chill wash over him, and when he looked up again, Snape had already walked up to the podium.
Merlin, he was beginning to doubt whether this man really kept all his emotions hidden deep inside like the novels described, because his indifferent gaze and stern, cold expression didn't look like someone who possessed any feelings at all.
Alistair's confidence began to waver.
No! Shouldn't he at least try? Even if they couldn't be friends, could he at least ask for an autograph? Fine, he was daydreaming a bit too much.
He needed to get serious! Potions couldn't possibly be that hard!
Frowning, Snape glared at the red-haired boy staring at him, then began tapping the blackboard with his wand, instantly covering its surface with writing.
"Now, copy the notes! Don't let me see your foolish faces." Walking slowly down from the podium, Snape fixed his gaze on each student in turn while speaking in a low, magnetic voice, "I don't expect you to enjoy the process of potion-making, but I can teach you how to enhance your status, brew glory, and even stave off death—provided you aren't the utter numskulls I usually have to deal with."
Snape didn't pick on the first-years the way he picked on Harry in the books, perhaps because he deemed them all utterly foolish and not worth wasting extra words on.
Holding his quill awkwardly, Alistair struggled to copy the letters from the blackboard. He wasn't quite used to using a quill.
After a brief silence, Snape struck the podium sharply once more. The loud clatter made every student in the classroom snap their heads up.
"Now stop what you are doing and begin practicing!" With a wave of Snape's hand, a cauldron and a pile of bizarre ingredients appeared on every paired desk. "Work in pairs and brew a healing potion. Let's hope your minds aren't entirely filled with slugs."
Alistair stared at the materials on the desk in dismay; most of them were things he didn't recognize.
"Ali? What's the matter?" The brown-haired girl leaned close to Alistair and asked in a low voice.
"I'm fine, Xina."
Alistair looked at his notes, then back at the ingredients, frowning deeply as he whispered to Xina, "Why do we need to add venomous fangs? Aren't we making a healing potion?"
Could the other ingredient suppress the toxicity of the fangs and alter their properties? Just like unicorn blood, which could save a life or serve as a curse?
Alistair suddenly found himself looking forward to Herbology class.
Xina looked at him in total bewilderment. "If we just follow the professor's instructions, we should be fine, right?"
"Oh, oh. This shouldn't be too hard." Assuming all they had to do was follow the notes.
Yet no one could have anticipated that right after Alistair finished speaking, his cauldron would explode.
A deafening blast shook the entire dungeon, and every student turned toward the source of the sound.
Alistair's cauldron was blown wide open, splattering liquid everywhere. The students sitting in front of and behind him, as well as his companion, all sustained various minor injuries—while Alistair himself had passed out cold.
"Dammit! You utter fools!" Snape strode toward the disaster scene, flicked his wand to clear away the remaining potion, hoisted the unconscious boy off the floor with a levitation charm, and strode briskly toward the door, roaring over his shoulder, "Uninjured students, take the injured to the hospital wing! Class dismissed!"