Professor Slughorn bounced into the Potions classroom. His smile, ever-present and as oily as a week-old cauldron, gleamed under the dim dungeon lights.
"A rousing start to the new term, wouldn't you agree?" he boomed, his words echoing off the damp stone. "And what better way to delve into the fascinating intricacies of potion-making than with the ever-intriguing Polyjuice Potion?"
A buzz of excitement pulsed through the combined Hufflepuff and Slytherin class, a collective heartbeat quickening with anticipation. The prospect of Polyjuice Potion, a magical elixir promising a fleeting transformation, ignited a spark of wonder in every student. Dreams of becoming revered professors, dazzling celebrities, or even capturing the attention of a secret admirer danced in their minds, a heady concoction of hope and ambition.
With a dramatic flourish, Slughorn unveiled a cauldron filled with a murky, bubbling liquid that emitted a strange lemon scent. "This month, we'll master the complex art of Polyjuice Potion," he announced with exaggerated enthusiasm. "The student who brews the most potent and accurate version will earn a personal reward - a single dose for their own use!"
A collective gasp swept through the room as the students realised the transformative power of a single Polyjuice Potion dose. The possibilities were boundless, fueling their imaginations with endless potential for mischief.
Jane, feeling a sudden surge of confidence, and not thinking, boldly announced, "I've brewed Polyjuice Potion before."
Her outlandish claim hung heavy in the air, a ripple of surprise spreading through the class. Heads turned, curiosity and scepticism mingling in their gazes. Among them, Snape's dark eyes narrowed, his face a mask of disbelief. A chilling silence descended upon the room as he coldly pronounced, "You're lying," his voice cutting through the hushed murmurs like a whip.
Jane's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but she stubbornly maintained her ground. "I'm not lying," she insisted barely audible over the doubt that scattered throughout the room.
Snape's sneer widened into a full-blown smirk. Leaning forward, he adopted a condescending tone. "Really? And when exactly did you have the opportunity to brew a potion as complex as Polyjuice, which requires an entire month to mature?"
Jane hesitated, her mind racing for a plausible explanation. "It was... sometime... I think. My friend—he's a bit of a potions enthusiast—helped me," she stammered, her words wavering. Where had that lie come from?
Snape narrowed his eyes dramatically, his scepticism palpable. "A potions enthusiast, you say? Do you even comprehend the meticulous precision required for Polyjuice? One misstep and the potion is rendered entirely useless," he drawled, every part of him dripping with contempt.
"I know what I'm talking about, Snape," Jane retorted with rising frustration. "Just because you think you're the ultimate potions master doesn't mean the rest of us are incompetent."
His lips curled into a sinister smirk. "Prove it, then," he challenged, his eyes glinting with malice. "Let's see if your so-called skills truly match mine."
Jane's face flushed with anger, her eyes blazing with determination. "Oh, I will, Snape," she promised through gritted teeth.
Snape's eyes narrowed, a dark glint flickering in their depths. "Careful, Lewis," he warned, his tone low and menacing. "Your overconfidence might just be your undoing."
"Better overconfident than underwhelming," Jane snapped bac, sharp with defiance.
Jane moved with a deliberate and confident air, selecting her ingredients with precise, swift motions. The entire class was now watching, their attention riveted on her every move. A nervous tremor crept into her hands as she set up her cauldron, the weight of the class's expectations pressing down on her. The tension between her and Snape was thick, palpable in the air like an electric current running between two charged poles.
A tense silence gripped the classroom, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of potion-making. Jane's eyes darted nervously to Snape, who returned her gaze with a cold intensity. His eyes, dark and menacing, held a simmering hatred that mirrored the rage bubbling within her. As she furiously ground her ingredients, her movements were fueled by a desperate need to prove herself. Yet, amidst her determination, she couldn't help but notice the cruel satisfaction in Snape's eyes as he watched her struggle.
Snape moved with a cold efficiency, chopping his ingredients with precise, almost robotic motions. His concentration was absolute, his face a mask of icy focus. When his gaze did flicker upwards, it was to shoot a venomous glare at Jane. The animosity between them was a tangible force, a crackling energy that electrified the air.
Jane's heart sank as she realised she was running low on ingredients. She made her way to the cupboard, only to find Snape already there, his long arms reaching for the best supplies. As she approached, he seemed to sense her presence and his movements accelerated, his hands snatching up vials and jars just as she was about to grab them.
Jane's frustration finally erupted. She took a deep breath, forcing a saccharine smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, Snape," she purred with false sweetness. As she reached for a jar of bicorn horn, she casually placed her foot squarely on his toe, applying a little more pressure than strictly necessary.
Snape winced, his face contorting in pain. A low growl escaped his lips as he snarled, "Watch where you're going, Lewis."
Jane batted her eyelashes innocently, feigning surprise. "Oh dear, did I step on your foot? How clumsy of me," she replied, batting her eyelashes to accompany her sugar coated words.
Snape glared at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Just stay out of my way," he hissed, shoving the jar of bicorn horn into her hands with a scowl.
Jane smirked as she took the jar. "Thanks, Snape. How kind of you."
With a look that could curdle milk, Snape turned back to his own cauldron, muttering under his breath.
When the potions lesson finally ended, Jane wasted no time securing her cauldron. With a flick of her wand, she cast a Static Charm on it, ensuring it would remain in place and continue to simmer. She then levitated it to the back of the room, carefully positioning it out of harm's way.
Without a backward glance, Jane stormed out of the classroom, her frustration and determination fueling her steps. She marched up the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the silent corridors. Bursting into the library, she spotted Lily and Remus studying at a table near the back. With dramatic huff, she plopped down beside them, startling Lily.
"Jane! What's going on?" Lily asked, her eyes wide with concern as she noticed the fierce look on Jane's face.
Remus eyebrows furrowed, his expression a mix of curiosity and worry. "Is everything alright?"
"No, it's not," Jane fumed, slamming her potions textbook on the table. "Snape is the most infuriating person I've ever met. He challenged me in class today, and now I have to prove I can brew the best Polyjuice Potion. I just—" She paused, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "I just can't stand him," she finished, as she began to pace with frustration.
Lily exchanged a glance with Remus, her eyes filled with concern. "Just take a deep breath. You can do this. You're one of the best students in our year."
Remus nodded in agreement.
Jane gave a small, determined nod. "Thanks, Lily. I just... I need to focus." She pulled out a quill and parchment, her eyes filled with resolve.
Remus smiled softly, closing his book. "If anyone can beat Snape at his own game, it's you."
A faint smile played on Jane's lips as the tension in her shoulders eased. "Thanks. I just hope you're right."
Lily, trying to mediate, added, "You know, Severus is a brilliant potion-maker. He's got a real talent for it. Maybe he just feels threatened by you."
Jane scoffed, dismissing the notion. "Brilliant or not, he's a first-class git. Talent doesn't absolve him of being a total prat."
Lily sighed, abandoning her attempt at peacemaking. "You're incredibly talented, Jane. Don't let him get under your skin," she reminded her friend.
Jane nodded resolutely, a flicker of resolve in her eyes. "Thanks, Lily," she affirmed, turning her attention back to her work.
The long month ahead, filled with Snape's looming shadow, would be a challenge she was determined to conquer.
The ensuing weeks were a relentless blur of exotic ingredients, complex instructions, and simmering cauldrons. Jane and Snape were locked in an unspoken duel, each striving to outshine the other. Her anger, a potent catalyst, fueled Jane's every movement as she meticulously prepared her potions. Snape's gaze was a constant, heavy presence, seeking any flaw, any vulnerability in her technique.
His obsession with outshining Jane intensified with each passing day, his determination as cold and relentless as winter ice. Snape revealed in his role as tormentor, his sneering criticisms and contemptuous challenges a daily ritual designed to break her spirit. Every misstep, every hesitation was met with a venomous barb, a calculated attempt to erode her confidence.
"Your stirring is sloppy, Lewis," Snape remarked with contempt. "No wonder your potion resembles sludge."
Jane's temper flared. "At least I don't resort to dark magic to achieve my results, Snape."
His eyes flashed with anger, but he said nothing, turning back to his cauldron with a furious intensity. The silent rage was as palpable as the fumes from his potion.
The rivalry reached a boiling point one afternoon. Snape, with a careless flick of his wrist, sent Jane's vial of lacewing flies crashing to the floor.
"Oops," he drawled, his smirk as obvious as his intent.
Jane's hands clenched into fists, her anger a tangible force. She took a deep breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. "It's fine," she managed, her words coming out with a restrained growl. With forced calm, she retrieved another jar from the supply cupboard.
As the month drew to a close, the potions classroom had become a pressure cooker of tension. Jane and Snape, locked in their silent war, radiated an intensity that was almost palpable. Their every move was scrutinised, their every action dissected. Slughorn, a seasoned observer of such rivalries, watched with a mixture of amusement and professional interest. The once tranquil classroom had transformed into a battleground of intellect and will.
Finally, the day of judgement arrived. A hush fell over the class as Slughorn moved purposefully between the two potions. His face was impassive, revealing nothing of his thoughts. Jane and Snape stood side by side, their hands clasped behind their backs, their eyes fixed on their creations. The silence was broken only by the soft bubbling of their potions.
"Excellent work, both of you," Slughorn declared. He nodded in approval, his eyes lingering on each potion in turn. "But I must say, Severus, your potion is particularly impressive. The colour is exceptional, and the consistency is near perfection."
A surge of triumph coursed through Jane. She managed a small smile, her gaze meeting Snape's. His expression was a complex interplay of hatred and grudging respect.
A hush fell over the classroom as Professor Slughorn's gaze moved slowly between the two potions. Every student leaned forward, their faces a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. Finally, a knowing smile graced his lips. "The winner of this year's Polyjuice Potion competition is Mr. Severus Snape!" he announced, his voice carrying clearly over the expectant silence.
A ripple of impressed murmurs swept through the room as Snape, his expression carefully controlled, rose from his seat. His acceptance was a silent victory lap, a confirmation of his superiority. The perfect shade of mud-brown potion in his cauldron was a testament to his skill and precision, a strange juxtaposition to the uncertain promise of Jane's brew.
Jane's jaw clenched as a wave of resentment washed over her. She remained silent, her gaze fixed on Snape with a mixture of anger and disbelief.
Slughorn beckoned the students forward to inspect Snape's potion up close. As they gathered around, he began to point out the finer details of the potion. "Notice the perfect hue, students," he explained. "And the consistency? Remarkable. Mr. Snape has achieved a level of precision that is truly commendable." Jane hesitated for a moment, watching as her classmates nodded in agreement, their eyes wide with admiration. She had come close, but Snape had undeniably mastered the potion.
Feeling a mix of disappointment and a stubborn determination, Jane lingered behind the other students, feigning a meticulous cleaning of her workspace. Her hands trembled slightly as she carefully poured a single vial of the Polyjuice Potion into a glass she had grabbed from her station. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, a potent mix of fear and excitement. She took a deep breath, her mind racing as she contemplated the potential consequences.
Once the initial excitement had died down and the students began to disperse, Jane joined the small crowd gathered around Snape and Slughorn. A forced smile plastered on her face, she offered her congratulations, keeping her words to barely a whisper. Slughorn, his face flushed with pride, presented Snape with a vial containing a portion of his own Polyjuice Potion, a gesture of the highest compliment.
"And to Mr. Severus Snape," Slughorn announced, "for your exemplary brewing skills and dedication, a token of recognition." He held up a small, ornate vial, a symbol of Snape's triumph.
Snape accepted the vial with a curt nod, his eyes briefly meeting Jane's. A flicker of arrogance crossed his face, a silent taunt that ignited a spark of fury within her. She wished, with a ferocity that surprised even her, that she could punch him.
Jane managed a tight smile, her heart heavy with a mix of frustration and disappointment. She forced out congratulations to Snape, her voice barely audible over the other students' enthusiastic praise. As the class began to disperse, she lingered, feigning a careful gathering of her belongings. With a final, pointed glance at Snape, she slipped quietly out of the classroom, her mind racing.
Barely acknowledging the curious glances of her classmates, Jane hurried through the familiar corridors of Hogwarts. She needed solitude, a reprieve from the echoing triumph of Snape's victory. The castle walls seemed to close in on her, amplifying the disappointment that gnawed at her insides.
A/N: Guess who decided it was a good idea to rewrite and restructure the entire last half of the book? Me. This work was originally supposed to be 35 chapters total. Yeah that's now thrown out the window. Apparently I have no idea how to be brief. More content for you I guess.