The next day, Harry got up and went to the Great Hall, followed by Hermione and Ron, which annoyed him. He sat separately at the Gryffindor table.
Then Harry went for a walk around Hogwarts. He saw a blonde girl from Slytherin who quickly caught up with him. "Hi, I'm Lisa Yaxley, I'm 14," said the girl with a smile, but Harry tried to ignore her.
He felt a sense of danger from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when he was in the Great Hall.
The girl was chattering non-stop, and Harry sent his magical N.E.W.T.s to explore the castle. He heard the conversations of other students.
There he is, look!
— Where? Over there, next to the tall blonde girl. Is that the one with glasses?
— Did you see his face?
— Did you see his scar?
Harry heard this whispering from all around, but he ignored it.
Behind the doors of the classrooms where Harry had his lessons, crowds of students gathered, eager to catch a glimpse of him.
The same people deliberately walked past him several times when he was in the corridor, staring intently at his face. This annoyed Harry.
Currently, he had potions. At the banquet to celebrate the start of the semester, Harry felt that Professor Snape had taken an instant dislike to him for some reason.
By the end of the first lesson, he realized he was mistaken. Professor Snape didn't just dislike Harry—he hated him. Harry decided to find out the reason.
Snape's office was located in one of the dungeons. It was cold here—much colder than in the castle itself—and quite eerie. Along all the walls stood glass jars containing preserved animals floating in liquid.
Like Flitwick, Snape began the lesson by opening the register and getting acquainted with the students.
And, like Flitwick, he paused when he reached the name Potter.
"Oh, yes," he said quietly. "Harry Potter. Our new celebrity."
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle snickered mockingly, covering their faces with their hands.
Snape began, "You are here to study the science of potion-making, a very precise and delicate science." He spoke almost in a whisper, but the students could hear every word clearly. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of controlling the class effortlessly. Just like in McGonagall's lessons, no one dared to whisper or engage in unrelated activities.
Foolish wand-waving has nothing to do with this science, and so many of you will find it hard to believe that my subject is an important part of magical studies," Snape continued.
I do not think you are capable of appreciating the beauty of a slowly simmering cauldron, releasing the finest aromas, or the gentle power of liquids that flow through a person's veins, enchanting their mind and enslaving their senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, how to brew glory, how to stopper death.
But all of this is only possible if you are at least somewhat different from the herd of dunderheads that usually attend my classes." He said this while staring intently at Harry, trying to read his thoughts. Harry whispered to himself, pushing Snape out of his mind, causing the professor to flinch back.
Potter!" Snape suddenly exclaimed. "What would happen if I were to mix crushed asphodel root with wormwood tincture?"
Harry stood up, his mind racing. "A sleeping potion," he said calmly. Snape was taken aback, surprised by Harry's knowledge.
Very well, Potter," Snape asked, "what is the difference between wolf's bane and monkshood?"
"It's the same thing, sir," Harry replied.
For the first-year students of Gryffindor, Snape's lessons promised to be anything but pleasant. After Snape seated Harry, something else quite disheartening happened. Snape paired the students up and assigned them to brew a simple potion for the treatment of boils.
He moved around the classroom, rustling his long black cloak, watching as they weighed dried nettle leaves and ground snake fangs in mortars. Snape criticized everyone except for Malfoy, who he evidently favored. At the moment when Snape called everyone to admire how Malfoy was brewing horned slugs, the dungeon suddenly filled with a noxious green smoke and a loud hissing.
Невилл somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron, which turned into a huge shapeless blob, and the potion they were brewing in it dripped onto the stone floor, burning holes in the shoes of nearby students.
In an instant, everyone scrambled onto their chairs, and Neville, who had been splashed by the potion, groaned in pain as red blisters appeared on his hands and feet.
Idiot!" Snape growled, sweeping the spilled potion into the corner with a flick of his hand. "As I understand it, before removing the cauldron from the fire, you added porcupine quills to the potion?"
Instead of answering, Neville winced and began to cry—now his nose was covered in red blisters as well.
Take him to the hospital wing," Snape said with a grimace, addressing Seamus. Then he turned to Harry and Ron, who were working at the adjacent table. "You, Potter, why didn't you tell him not to add porcupine quills to the potion? Or did you think that if he made a mistake, you would look better than him? Because of you, I'm recording another penalty point against Gryffindor."
Harry ignored Snape and approached Neville, took his hand, and whispered a spell, causing Neville's hand to begin healing.
Harry turned and walked back to his seat. An hour later, they were dismissed, and Harry quickly left the classroom. He wanted to go to the Great Hall, but he was stopped by a guy who was a friend of Lisa's, as Harry understood.
Hi, I'm Alexander Burke. I was asked to bring you to the abandoned classroom where Lisa and our other friends are waiting for us. Before Harry could respond, he was grabbed by the hand, and they found themselves in the abandoned classroom.