HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

In the first few days after the start of the school year, Hogwarts operated amidst its usual hustle and bustle.

Severus and Ian maintained their own rhythms: teaching, grading, going to the greenhouse, and returning to their corner of the cellar.

Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was met with lukewarm reception. His stuttering explanations, the strong smell of garlic, and his perpetually frightened demeanor left the first-year students more confused than in awe.

Harry quickly adapted to life in the castle, or rather, tried to adapt.

Potions class was scheduled for Thursday afternoon, with Gryffindor and Slytherin together, in the cellar.

The young wizards crowded behind the cauldron, most of them looking somewhat nervous.

Severus, dressed in a black robe, stood in front of the podium, his gaze sweeping over the entire class, lingering on Harry's face for half a second before looking away.

"Turn to page three of 'Potions and Elixirs of Magic.'" His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to silence the entire classroom instantly. "Scabies treatment potion, the most basic of basics, but stupidity and carelessness can turn it into a small explosion."

He turned and wrote the key steps on the blackboard, his handwriting clear and sharp. "I don't expect you to make a perfect product on your first try, but I require you to strictly follow the steps, remain quiet, and—"

He paused, then said, "Keep your wands under control."

Once the operation began, the only sounds in the classroom were the gurgling of the crucible, the rustling of materials being processed, and hushed inquiries.

Severus slowly surveyed the corridor, the hem of his black robe barely touching the ground.

“Mr. Longbottom,” he stopped beside Neville’s cauldron, “the porcupine quills should be added after the fire is removed, not now. Gryffindor loses a point for not paying attention.”

Neville blushed, but steadied his movements and quickly retrieved the thorn. "I'm sorry, Professor."

An apology can't salvage a failed potion; start over.

He walked over to Harry and Ron's table. Harry's actions were fairly organized, but somewhat hurried.

Severus watched as he finished processing the snake fangs and added the powder to the crucible, then suddenly spoke, his voice calm:

"Potter".

Harry's hand trembled, nearly knocking over the grinding bowl. "Yes, Professor?"

"Tell me, what are the fundamental differences in properties between *Aconitum carmichaelii* and *Aconitum kusnezoffii*? Which one do we use in scabies medications? Why?"

The classroom became even quieter.

Several Slytherins exchanged glances, and Draco Malfoy's lips curled into a smile.

Harry opened his mouth, having heard Severus talk to him about this in the Cotswolds, on a relaxing, cozy afternoon by the fireplace, while he ate Ian's slightly burnt biscuits.

But now, in the cold air of the cellar, under the gaze of dozens of eyes, those clear key points suddenly began to dart around in his mind like a startled vixen.

"It's... *Aconitum carmichaelii*," Harry tried to recall, "because it's milder? *Aconitum davidii* is neurotoxic and can't be used in medicines that come into direct contact with the skin..."

"Milder in nature?" Severus repeated, his voice devoid of emotion. "That's the exact wording on page 324 of the book 'Identification of Poisonous Plants' in your mother's library, but you didn't say the whole thing."

He explained the difference between the two, took a step closer, and stared at Harry with his dark eyes. "I assume, Mr. Potter, that you at least looked through the appendix of the first chapter of the textbook before answering? Five points deducted from Gryffindor for insufficient preparation and wasting class time. Tonight at eight o'clock, Potter, come to my office for solitary confinement."

Harry's face flushed red, half with shame and half with annoyance.

Ron looked at him sympathetically, while Hermione looked disapproving, seemingly thinking that Harry should have answered better.

Draco Malfoy's lips curled into a smug smile, faint but enough for Harry to see.

"Keep going." Severus turned away from Harry and to the class. "There are still twenty minutes until the end of get out of class. If you don't want to leave with a pot of failures and extra papers, stay focused."

When the bell rang, less than a third of the students had managed to brew a barely acceptable potion.

Hermione's potion was a perfect pale blue, and she carefully bottled it, her face glowing.

Neville's potion was slightly darker in color, but clear and free of impurities, which earned him a brief "okay" from Severus.

Harry's potion... the color was alright, but there was some undissolved material at the bottom. He silently bottled it, knowing it was at best a "passable" result.

The students packed their things and left, talking in hushed tones.

Harry deliberately dawdled until the very end, and only walked to the podium when he was the only one left in the classroom.

Severus was organizing his lesson plans and didn't look up.

"Professor," Harry's voice was muffled, "I'm sorry, I do remember you saying that, but just now..."

“Remembering and being able to accurately extract and apply under pressure are two different things, Potter,” Severus interrupted him, his tone still calm but lacking the sharpness of his classroom manner. “Tonight’s detention is both punishment and remedial instruction. Eight o’clock, don’t be late. Now, get out.”

Harry bit his lip and nodded. "Yes, Professor."

He turned to leave, and as he reached the door, he heard Severus add in a low voice, "Eat more for dinner; dealing with the Billiwig worms requires energy."

Harry paused, gave a soft "hmm," and closed the door.

The cellar fell silent again. Severus carefully put away his lesson plan and tapped his fingertips on the smooth wooden table.

He did specifically explain that question to Harry during the summer vacation, and even compared it with real objects. Harry's reaction at the time showed that he understood.

But the pressure in class... he wanted to perform too well, which made him panic. This kind of mentality is fatal in the magical world, especially in the situations that may arise in the future.

The side door slid open silently, and Ian walked in, carrying two steaming cups of tea.

"I heard he was penalized." Ian placed a cup of tea next to Severus and leaned against the edge of the podium. "The question wasn't beyond the scope of the curriculum, but he got stuck."

"A typical reaction under pressure." Severus picked up his teacup, the warmth seeping through the porcelain to soothe his fingers. "He needs time to get used to it. Here, mistakes are just a point deduction, but outside..."

He didn't continue speaking, but took a sip of tea. It tasted familiar, and the temperature was just right.

"What about the restricted content?" Ian asked.

"Treatment of the Billywig bug stinger, compared to the paper on magical properties," Severus said. "Practice plus theory, he lacked more than just memory."

Ian laughed: "Very Snape-esque. But if Lily knew about your last sentence, 'Eat more,' she'd think you've finally learned to express concern."

Severus glanced at him: "I'm just stating a fact. The barrel bugs were sent by Hagrid, and they were incredibly vigorous."

“Hagrid is always so… honest.” Ian shook his head with a smile, then said seriously, “Speaking of Hagrid, he told me at lunch today that he found some unusual traces at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They weren’t animal footprints, but rather the tracks of something being dragged, along with a faint smell of decaying spices. As he approached, the centaur Frenzer suddenly appeared and warned him not to go any further, saying, ‘Darkness is hunting.’”

"Dumbledore has increased patrols in the Forbidden Forest and on the fourth floor; the Order of the Phoenix is ​​on high alert." Severus put down his teacup, paused for a moment, and added, "As for Harry, I'll take a look at his scar tonight during his detention. Although it's been peeled off, the prophecy..."

He didn't finish speaking, but Ian understood that as long as the prophecy existed, Voldemort would be obsessed with Harry. He grasped Severus's hand and said, "Be careful."

"Um."