A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 16 Potions Class

On Friday morning, the students were making a ruckus as they ate breakfast in the Great Hall. For most of the new students, they had already settled into life at Hogwarts and no longer got lost in the castle all the time.

A hundred or so owls fluttered through the windows into the auditorium, feathers flying everywhere. This was a daily occurrence, and everyone was used to it.

With practiced ease, Irving picked up a plate to cover his cereal porridge, preventing the fluffy bits from getting inside, and then used a napkin to cover his mouth and nose before sneezing.

The family owl, Ica, tossed a letter onto the table in front of Owen and affectionately pecked at his fingertips. After asking for a bite of bread, it flapped its wings and flew away.

Owen picked up the envelope on the table. It was a black hard envelope with the Shafiq family crest on it, sealed with a silver wax seal with a rose pattern.

Compared to the mysterious and formal envelope, the contents of the letter were very casual, clearly the work of Mr. Shafik.

"...We already know how you are doing at school, that's good, keep it up."

"Your mother asked me to give you her regards and to let you know that we are doing well at home."

"Actually, it's never been this good. Nothing strange has happened at home this year... So if anything happens, just remember to write home more often. Adeline and I both think that you should be more independent at your age."

"Don't wander into the Forbidden Forest during your first year; the creatures there are far too dangerous. Of course, if you want to sneak into the library's restricted section, I'd be more than happy to oblige. It houses many ancient books that even our family doesn't have. As long as you don't get caught, you're bound to find something... And if you do get caught, I'm sure it will be an unforgettable experience."

"..."

Owen folded the letter with a wry smile. He was sure that Mrs. Shafiq hadn't read it, otherwise it would never have been sent.

"I have two Potions classes taught by our Headmaster this morning, no classes this afternoon." Draco, looking at today's schedule nearby, said excitedly, "Taking classes with Gryffindor... Just watch, I'll teach them a lesson, make them realize their worthlessness early on!"

The animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor is long-standing, and whenever the two houses clash, the atmosphere is always tense. This atmosphere has gradually influenced the freshmen, making them all eager to fight.

"Great! As long as you can be the first in the class to finish brewing the potion," Owen said, stirring his porridge with a spoon, in a good mood.

"Isn't that obvious?" Draco asked, a little guilty, but he was determined not to back down. "Right, Harry?"

Harry had no interest in the topic at all; he was reading the letter delivered by his snow-white owl Hedwig with a cheerful smile on his face.

He hadn't seen Hagrid since the Sorting Ceremony. Harry had been worried that Hagrid would never speak to him again, but thankfully he finally received a letter from Hagrid today, inviting him to his cottage for tea this afternoon. The fact that Hagrid didn't reject him because he had been sorted into Slytherin made him very happy and relieved.

"Who wrote you the letter?" Draco, who hadn't received a response, craned his neck to look and saw the messy handwriting on the letter.

"Hagrid?" Draco saw the signature on the letter and said slowly, "I've heard of him. He's a rude guy who lives in that little cabin on the school grounds. He gets drunk all the time, plays around with magic, and eventually burned his own bed down... You'd better stay away from that kind of person."

"I think he's very smart." Harry's expression turned somewhat grim. "He's my friend! If he hadn't found me, I wouldn't have gotten into Hogwarts!"

"You can't get into Hogwarts? No wizard would allow that to happen." Draco looked at him. "That's what that big oaf told you? He's certainly good at bragging. You'll be affected by being around servants who spout nonsense like that..."

"Sorry, that was just my own judgment. Also, I don't think there's anything wrong with being with Hagrid." After saying that, Harry angrily picked up his schoolbag and left the Great Hall.

Draco frowned as he watched him leave, then looked around at the people around him: "Do you think I'm right?"

"It should be...no problem, right?" Pansy said with some worry.

"I don't know." Blaise shook his head.

"I've never met Hagrid, so I can't comment," Daphne said, pursing her lips.

"But it's very impolite to talk badly about someone behind their back, especially to their face when you're badmouthing their friend," Owen said softly as he finished the last bite of his cereal.

"I'm doing this for his own good. Humph, he'll regret it someday." Draco arrogantly raised his chin.

……

Potions class was held in an underground classroom. The temperature there was very cold, and the walls were lined with glass jars containing animal specimens, which looked even more sinister in the dim light.

As soon as Owen entered the classroom, he was certain he didn't like it. With so many classrooms in the castle, why couldn't they choose a sunny, pleasantly warm place to have class?

He found a slightly brighter corner to sit down and began to observe the Gryffindor students. Hermione Granger greeted Harry and then continued to argue quietly with the girl next to her about how to make a potion, while Neville Longbottom's eyes darted fearfully around the specimen jars in the classroom, his body trembling.

Ron Weasley, with his fiery red hair, would occasionally glance at Harry, who sat there alone with a cold expression. His face was a mixture of curiosity and wariness, his expression changing in a complex way, as if he were imagining something.

When the class began, Professor Snape strode in, his black cloak billowing behind him making him look like a large bat flying close to the ground.

His indifferent gaze swept across the entire classroom, as if pouring a bucket of cold water over everyone's heads. Everyone involuntarily fell silent, and the classroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Professor Snape picked up the roll and called out names one by one. When he called Harry's name, he paused, glanced at Harry, and his dark eyes were cold, empty, and unfathomable.

"Harry Potter, a very famous person. But if you take advantage of your fame to act recklessly, don't expect me to go easy on you." His lips twitched slightly as he spoke in a low voice.

"I won't, Professor!" Harry's face flushed red, and he began to doubt whether the professor in front of him really didn't hate him.

Although he had fallen out with Draco, he still remembered what Draco had told him about Snape these past few days.

According to Draco, the Headmaster was secretly overjoyed to see Harry arrive at his house; although he appeared cold on the surface, he was simply not good at expressing his inner feelings; and, more than anyone else, the Headmaster believed in Harry's talent, placed high hopes on him, and wished him to become the pride of the house…

Harry clenched his fist silently, constantly telling himself: The headmaster is just not good at speaking. Yes, he is kindly reminding me not to be arrogant because of my fame!

After taking attendance, Snape tossed the attendance sheet onto the lectern and then began his opening remarks in a deep, unhurried voice: "Potion making is a precise and rigorous craft. Perhaps many of you won't believe it's magic, and I don't expect you to truly grasp the wondrous power unique to the realm of potions..."

"I can teach you how to increase your reputation, cultivate glory, and even prevent death..."

Such inflammatory and seductive language was enough to get anyone who heard it for the first time excited. The young wizards breathed heavily, leaned forward involuntarily, and were captivated by the wonderful prospects described by Professor Snape.

"Hmm, I believe Professor Snape's strict discipline and sharp wit will soon shatter their unrealistic fantasies, deflate their inflated egos, and bring the students back to reality," Owen thought with amusement.

(End of this chapter)