.

An explosion of sighs and groans erupted from the class. Peverell's grin widened.

"Now, now. I'm a man who lives in the real world, and I expect that 98 percent of you spent your summer time admiring the cover of your textbooks rather than... well, reading them. I want you all to open your textbooks to page five and read Chapter one. You have fifteen minutes."

Lily Evans raised her hand cautiously. Peverell ignored her.

"The remaining two percent of the class will... (Lily lowered her hand) re-read chapter one. After the second reading, do the third. Read until you can close the book and recite it word for word when I ask you to. If you get bored, I want you to look up, look at the board, and imprint the Course Aims in your brain."

Severus sighed, exchanging glances with Lily. Yesterday's Defense class had raised his expectations up high, but apparently Peverell wasn't going to be a very good teacher in Potions.

He had long since read the entire textbook, let alone Chapter One. OWL? It was a bit cocky to say so, but with Severus' level of knowledge, it would be harder for him to get anything less than an O in Potions O.W.L., even with a bit of slacking this year.

After half-heartedly considering not even opening the textbook, Severus emitted a deep sigh and turned to the first chapter. Good grades aside, being deliberately disengaged in class in defiance of a professor was an offense punishable by paddling.

A few seats away, Lily glared at the back of Professor Peverell's head before finally ducking her head and opening her textbook. Quite understandable. He knew Lily really could recite the pages if she had to.

The classroom was hushed with the dreary boredom of sullen students whose expectations had been betrayed; and the only sound in the room was the flipping of pages.

Normally, this type of atmosphere would have sparked some sort of silly prank from the Gryffindorks gang, but Potter, the gang leader, had been thoroughly beaten by Peverell just yesterday, and was now flipping through his books with glassy eyes. Well, serves him right, Severus thought with a sneer.

Severus flipped through the pages mechanically, reflecting on spells he could use to stab them in the back when they were in this groggy state from defeat by Peverell that they wouldn't think to counterattack.

After fifteen minutes that seemed like an eternity, Peverell clapped his hands lightly. Severus, who was now in a state of semi-deep slumber, opened his eyes with a start.

"Now close your books."

Students closed their books, most of them unable to shake off their blank stares. Peverell opened his mouth, unperturbed.

"What's the first sentence of Chapter One?"

As the students remained silent, barely out of their comatose state, Lily's measured voice came through.

"...The Magical Potions is an old magic."

"Two points. That's right. The Potions is a very old magic compared to other magical subjects taught in Hogwarts," Peverell said softly.

"Compared to Transfiguration or Transport magics such as floos, classified as the modern magic, which are relatively recent - less than a thousand years or so – the Potions has a very long, old history, as old as the birth of wizards, magical plants, and magical animals. For example, the Chinese wizarding community considers an Emperor named Shennong to be the father of potions and pharmacopoeia; and he is a prehistoric figure, perhaps even before the invention of writing. In that sense, it is fitting that muggles often envision us wizards and witches as someone stirring something in smoking cauldrons."

A serene, steady voice. The students were beginning to pay attention.

"With the establishment of Hogwarts and other wizarding schools, a great number of previously individualized, familial magics were brought together, given formal names, and organized. In the process, new spells were invented and whole new disciplines of magic were explored by great wizards and witches. However, potions have an overwhelmingly longer history before the systematization than after."

Peverell wrote "Year 993," the year of Hogwarts' foundation, on the board. His handwriting was sharp and straight.

"A thousand years have passed since Hogwarts was founded. Only a thousand years. Hardly an enough time for the subject with its history. As a result, what you learn in your first five years of Potions is the smallest portion of the vast field of magical potions that has been possible to be standardized and systemized by the witches and wizards since the Founders."

Severus stared up at the professor, dumbfounded. This was a perspective he'd never heard before from other instructors. Peverell was trying to open their eyes to the vastness of Potions, and now he felt his mind go blank at the lecture on the subject he'd worked so hard to learn, only to have it reduced to the 'smallest portion of the field'.

"And so, we can come to this conclusion," the professor smiled smoothly.

"Potions theory up to your fifth year has little to do with individual levels of talent such as klutzy hands or potion master's intuition. If you have the intelligence to do the arithmetic and ability to read, and if you put in the effort, you can get at least a passing grade in OWL Potions. I remember one of my friends, who had the worst talent for potions, was taught by the worst teacher, and somehow managed to get an A in OWL. If I take a lesson from him, if any of you get a P or lower in OWL... I would be very... very displeased."

A lecture that went around in a number of circles and eventually came back to the O.W.L.

There were urhhs and erhhs and distressed groans from the students, but they were not loud. Their instincts told them that they notice a glimmer of manic ferocity in the young professor's green eyes.

Professor Peverell flashed a serene smile, completely unaffected by their reaction.

"Don't you worry at all. I, too, was judged to have absolutely no talent for potions until the age of fifteen, and my rise to this level is only due to a method of learning that has been tried and tested time and time again throughout human history, and I am generously offering to try a personally enhanced version of this method on you. Oh, and you're welcome."

The students who were about to ask what that method of learning was soon closed their mouths, and for the remainder of the lecture, the fifth year Slytherin-Gryffindor students were thoroughly enlightened as to the essence of the "magically enhanced method of cramming education."

After about 40 minutes, Severus let out an unearthly groan sounding like an ughhhhh..., and slumped down on his desk. Along with the other 80 or so students. His head felt like it was going to explode. Seriously, his head felt like it was physically bubbling and bursting.

In the past 40 minutes of class, he had learned a few lessons.

First, it's never wise to boast being good at a subject in front of a double master.

Second, the battlemage's "magic" could temporarily endow an entire classroom of 80 students with Lily's level of memorization capabilities (meaning that humans utilize 120% of their cortex's potential in the face of a huge threat).

Professor Peverell's cheerful, airy voice announced the next class.

"Now, out of consideration for your other classes, I'm going to give you a very simple assignment for the next course of lesson : read Chapter Two of the textbook. Next class will begin with a short 10-minute pop quiz. It's going to be an open-book test, so no pressure on you!"

A female voice came from the Gryffindor side, deadly tired but full of purpose, an iron will of I-need-to-know.

Dear, smart, brave Lils. I'll admire you until the day I die, Severus mused in his foggy brain.

"I... Professor... I have a question about... that... the... pop quiz...? How many questions are you going to give... sir?"

Peverell replied ever so brightly.

"Well, not sure yet. About a hundred and twenty questions, maybe? Never worry, they'll be easy enough to solve if you only read the chapter diligently."

Severus made a strange sort of noise out of his respiratory organ, and then slumped down, feeling his vision blur. I wonder, does he have a serious grudge or something against the Potions subject? was his last thought, as he was exhausted into oblivion.

.

..

[Note]

Yup, he has. ;)