Harry potter The Boy Who Remembers

From the looks of it, potions looked like a very interesting field of study, and Harry was interested in the specifics.

As he made his way to the dungeons, Harry hoped that the professor didn't dislike him on principle, since he was one of his Slytherin. Harry took a look at his schedule and realized that the class was also with Gryffindors. Well, that was a recipe for disaster.

Well, by the end of the potions lesson, Harry was pretty sure that Snape hated him. What the hell had James Potter done to him that he would be this petty to students? That man was without a doubt a menace that shouldn't be around children.

Harry had always thought that the stories were romanticized from the point of view of a child. He wasn't abused like the Harry from the stories, he wasn't starved, nor was he bullied by his cousin. As such, Harry somewhat expected Snape to be frosty, not some unhinged man picking on children.

Well, first of all, when Harry entered the classroom, he made sure to sit in the back, to avoid being called on by Snape. Blaise followed after him and they sat together, waiting for the professor to show up.

Everyone had shown up before the Professor; he had a fearsome reputation especially when it came to reprimanding Gryffindors. Even Weasley arrived early and sat down obediently waiting for the professor to arrive.

The door opened suddenly, and the professor entered the classroom dressed in black with his cape billowing behind him. It was cool, but it was also the highlight of the lesson. The man instinctively seemed to search for Harry and glared at him.

After a few seconds, he started his speech, "For those of you who do not know, I am Severus Snape, the current Senior potions professor in this school. I will have the misfortune to teach you the subtle arts of potions that most of you will fail to truly grasp. Potion brewing is without a doubt one of the most dangerous fields of magic you will learn in this school. A single mistake could cause an explosion that would not only endanger you but also the others around you. Most of the accidental deaths that occur in magical Britain have been attributed to potions, be it an accident by a sub-par brewer, or getting poisoned drinking a faulty potion. This is your first and final warning, if you do not take this field of magic seriously, you will answer to me. And believe me, you will wish that you would be dead."

The professor looked around the classroom making sure that he had the students' attention before continuing, "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.

"Like most of your wanded subjects, this class will be divided into theory and practice. I will be responsible for the practical aspects of your lesson, while you will have your theoretical ones with a junior professor. In this room, there are ground rules that you will follow. First of all, you are not allowed to brew any potion outside this room, since you will only risk killing yourselves. Secondly, you will follow my instructions to the letter. If you purposely choose to mess around with potions, you will answer to me. Finally, you will not be allowed to take any of the ingredients and potions outside this room. Am I making myself clear?"

The entire classroom nodded at once, "Now, let's begin our lesson, what are potions? Some of you might foolishly believe that it's simply a combination of magical ingredients, but they would be wrong. A potion necessitates magic to be brewed. A squib or muggle cannot brew a potion, although, I will leave the intricacies for your theory lessons."

"Longbottom!" said Snape suddenly, "Since you like not paying attention, why don't you explain to me what you would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of woodworm?"

The scarred boy, who was snickering with Weasley, stiffened and blushed in embarrassment, "I don't know sir."

The question wasn't really that hard, but it was mentioned in the potion book in the description of both ingredients. The draught of living death was a very well-known potion that were used on unconscious prisoners after large battles. Prisons tended to be full in times of war, and so, wizards used this potion to make sure they wouldn't escape or cause mayhem. The potion was so popular in the past that there are many muggle fairy tales inspired by this potion.

"Perhaps this question was just too complicated for you," Snape drawled, "Maybe this one would be more your speed. What exactly is a bezoar?"

The boy was clenching his fist, "I don't know, sir."

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