As the bell rang, signaling the end of Transfiguration, I grabbed my things and followed the crowd of students spilling out into the corridor.
"McGonagall's a legend," Ron muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Turning into a cat like that… mental."
"Did you see her precision, though?" Hermione piped up, practically glowing with excitement. "It was flawless. I can't wait until we learn that!"
"Yeah, you'll probably be turning into an owl by next week," Ron said with a grin. "I can already see it—Hermione Granger, top of the class, and a bloody Animagus by Christmas."
Hermione blushed, but I caught the slight twitch of her lips. She was definitely considering it. I smirked to myself. Of course she was.
I walked beside them, but my mind was already drifting toward our next class.
Potions.
My excitement was mixed with something else—unease. I knew what was coming. Snape. And that meant things were about to get… interesting.
"Snape's always partial to Slytherins," Ron grumbled as we neared the staircase that led to the dungeons. His voice dropped conspiratorially. "My brothers said he'd dock points for breathing too loudly if you're in Gryffindor."
"Lovely," Rose murmured beside me, her green eyes narrowing slightly. "Can't wait for that."
"Maybe he'll be nicer to you," Hermione offered, her tone slightly hopeful.
"Doubt it," Rose replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm still a Gryffindor. Besides…" She trailed off, her expression tightening.
I glanced at her, sensing her unease. I didn't need to ask what was bothering her. I'd seen the way Snape had looked at her during the feast—like he was seeing a ghost.
A ghost named Lily Evans.
Yeah… this was going to be fun.
As soon as we entered the dungeon classroom, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. The stone walls were lined with shelves filled with murky jars, most containing things I'd rather not identify.
"Why does this place feel like a serial killer's pantry?" Ron whispered, eyeing a jar that looked suspiciously like it contained pickled eyeballs.
"Because it probably is," I murmured back, a smirk tugging at my lips.
The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and something sharp—like burnt herbs. The cauldrons were already set up, and the atmosphere screamed trouble.
"Settle down," a cold, silky voice echoed through the dungeon, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Snape.
The door swung shut with a thud, and from the shadows emerged Professor Snape, his black robes billowing as if he was floating. His face was as pale as ever, and his dark eyes scanned the class with quiet menace.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," Snape began, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it commanded absolute silence. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Oh great, here we go. Straight out of the movie.
"However…" Snape's voice dropped even lower, sending a chill through the room, "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 put a stopper… in death."
Dramatic much? I thought, resisting the urge to smirk.
And then it happened.
"Potter," Snape's voice sliced through the silence like a blade.
I felt Rose stiffen beside me. Her head shot up, her green eyes wide with surprise.
"If I asked you," Snape said softly, his gaze boring into her, "where you would find a bezoar, what would you say?"
Her eyes darted toward me, just for a second, her brows furrowing. Come on, Rose… you've got this.
"Uh… in a… jar?" she murmured hesitantly.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
"Clearly… fame does not translate to knowledge," he said softly, his tone dripping with condescension.
I clenched my jaw, feeling my temper flare. Easy, Ethan. Not the time to set the classroom on fire.
Snape's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he spoke again.
"Let's try again," he murmured, his voice softer but no less menacing. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
I could see Rose trying to remember, her brow furrowing even deeper. She opened her mouth but quickly shut it, clearly struggling.
"I… I don't know, sir," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Pity," Snape said, his tone as sharp as a knife.
"And finally," his black eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction, "what is the meaning of asphodel and wormwood when combined in a potion?"
I froze.
No… not that.
Rose's face paled, her lips pressing together tightly. She was completely lost now.
Alright, that's enough.
My jaw clenched so hard I thought I might crack a tooth. My fingers itched to intervene, but before I could do anything—
"Mr. Carter," Snape drawled, his eyes sliding over to me now, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps you can enlighten us?"
Oh, fantastic.
I met his gaze calmly, keeping my face neutral.
"If I asked you where to find a bezoar," Snape began again, his voice laced with cold amusement, "what would you say?"
"In the stomach of a goat, sir," I replied smoothly, my tone perfectly polite.
Snape's lips curled, but I couldn't tell if it was approval… or annoyance.
"And the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"Same plant," I said evenly. "Also known as aconite."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
"And…" Snape's voice dropped to a near whisper, "what is the meaning of asphodel and wormwood when combined?"
My stomach clenched. The answer was immediate in my mind, though I kept my expression carefully blank.
In the language of flowers… asphodel and wormwood mean… 'I bitterly regret the loss of someone.'
The dungeon suddenly felt colder.
Lily.
This wasn't about testing knowledge. This was a message. For Rose. For Lily's daughter.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady. "They signify regret, sir," I said softly.
"Very good," Snape murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
But of course, it wasn't over.
"Since you seem so well-versed in the subtleties of potion-making," Snape said, his tone almost mocking now, "let's see if you can answer one more question."
Oh, come on… what now?
"What potion," Snape murmured, his black eyes gleaming with satisfaction, "requires powdered bicorn horn and lacewing flies as primary ingredients?"
My mind raced, flipping through everything I knew. Bicorn horn… lacewing flies…
Come on, come on…
Nothing.
"I… don't know, sir," I finally admitted, my tone clipped.
Snape's smirk deepened. "Polyjuice Potion," he said softly, his voice dripping with condescension.
Damn it.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape added coolly, clearly enjoying himself.
Oh, I hate this guy.
When Snape finally told us to brew a Cure for Boils, I turned to Rose immediately.
"Partners?" I asked softly, keeping my tone gentle. I didn't want her to feel any worse than she already did.
Rose's lips curled into a small, grateful smile. "Obviously."
As we set up our cauldron, my competitive side kicked in.
Alright, time to show Snape who's boss.
"Powdered snake fangs first," I murmured, measuring carefully.
"Got it," Rose replied, her brow furrowed in concentration as she added the crushed fangs to the mixture.
We worked in perfect sync, our movements smooth and precise. The mixture turned a rich purple, exactly as described in the instructions.
"Not bad," Rose murmured, her green eyes gleaming with admiration.
"Just wait," I said, smirking. "We'll have the best potion in the class."
But just as I was starting to feel good about our work—
BOOM!
A loud explosion echoed from the other side of the room. Thick green smoke filled the air, sending students coughing and stumbling backward.
"Neville!" Hermione's horrified gasp echoed through the chaos.
I turned to see Neville standing beside his cauldron, his face streaked with soot, his cauldron reduced to a melted puddle.
Snape's expression was thunderous as he stalked toward him. "Idiot boy!" Snape hissed, his eyes narrowing. "What have you done now?"
Neville looked close to tears.
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape snapped, his cold gaze sweeping over the class. Then his eyes landed on Rose.
"For not assisting your housemate," Snape said smoothly, though his tone was sharper than before.
Rose's eyes widened, her face paling.
But then… Snape hesitated.
His gaze lingered on Rose, and for a moment, I saw it—that flicker of pain, that trace of longing.
Lily.
Snape's expression hardened instantly, but I had already seen it.
"Mr. Carter," Snape's voice was cool and controlled, but his eyes held something darker. "Since Miss Potter seems… incapable… take Longbottom to the infirmary. Now."
My jaw clenched, but I didn't argue. My eyes met Rose's for a brief moment, a silent promise in my gaze.
"Come on, Neville," I murmured softly, placing a steady hand on the trembling boy's shoulder.
As we left the dungeon, my mind was racing.
I didn't need to figure out what was happening.
I already knew.
And that knowledge made my blood boil.
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I have read many fanfics and seen the movies of Hp world and as this an AU world, the chronological order of events of 1st year may be different. Please cooperate and vote for me.
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Schedule for release of new chapter is - 2 chapters Monday to Saturday (UTC + 5:30)