— — — — — —
Normally, Potions classes were organized in pairs.
That way everyone had something to do, but nobody could completely slack off.
Tom had arranged groups of three today because the potion itself was genuinely difficult. Two people weren't enough to divide the work efficiently. Three was just barely manageable.
Tom smacked his lips thoughtfully.
'Abusing authority... Yeah, there was definitely something thrilling about it.'
With his hands clasped behind his back, he began strolling through the classroom.
If Snape was like a silent old bat, moving soundlessly through the room while alert students sensed danger approaching...
Then Tom was a ghost.
Apart from speaking, he made absolutely no sound.
Every time he suddenly opened his mouth, the students around him nearly jumped out of their skin.
Ingredients were sliced incorrectly. Tools were dropped. Accidents happened everywhere.
"Richard, are you blind? I wrote it clearly on the board. Dew cannot come into contact with silver. So tell me, what's that spoon in your hand made of?"
"Professor, it's counterfeit!" Richard blurted out at once, panic creeping into his voice as he feared punishment.
"Excellent. Very spirited. Five points from Hufflepuff for arguing with a professor. Keep the spoon. You can use it in the Great Hall later."
"Hmph! A counterfeit only means it isn't pure silver. It doesn't mean there's no silver in it at all. Look at the color of the dew in your cauldron. It's gone from white to bloody brown. Can you tell me why?"
The boy nearly burst into tears.
Seeing that he was already broken, Tom moved on to his next target.
"Miss Baker, dragon heartstring isn't rope. It can't handle that kind of scrubbing. Go get another strand from the front. Five points from Ravenclaw."
"Mr Ramsbottom, you should really see a healer about those hands. They're shaking so badly I'm starting to wonder if you have a medical condition. Don't ignore your symptoms."
"Mr. Clarke. Do you plan to complete your potion today, or are you waiting for divine intervention to stir it for you? Ten points from Ravenclaw."
...
As the lesson continued, Tom became completely unstoppable.
Almost every student got singled out for some mistake or another.
Especially those who had been secretly complaining about him earlier, they received particularly attentive care.
Did they really think his mastery of Legilimency and ability to sense malicious intent were just for decoration?
Snape might be many things, but he wasn't the sort of person who would use Legilimency on a bunch of irrelevant students.
Tom, on the other hand, was much less restrained.
Besides, he didn't have to worry about things like teaching certifications.
No professional standards to uphold. No reputation for educational ethics to protect.
So he simply did whatever he pleased.
Ding!
By the time the bell finally rang, nearly every student felt like crying tears of joy.
They had survived.
Compared to Snape, Tom wasn't any less vicious with his tongue.
Many students had been scolded so thoroughly they wanted to dig a hole and hide in it.
Combined with his ghost-like habit of appearing out of nowhere, attending his Potions class felt less like education and more like a trip through a haunted house.
Still, there was one area where Tom was undeniably better than Snape.
Both men were brutally sharp-tongued. But after insulting someone, Snape usually offered no further guidance. He'd simply tell students to look it up themselves and figure it out.
Tom, however, pointed out exactly what was wrong and explained exactly how it should have been done.
The students still got yelled at. At least now they understood why.
After listening to Tom's explanations, many of them found themselves thinking, "Wow..." I really was being stupid.
There was another advantage as well.
Tom wasn't stingy with ingredients. If you ruined something, you grabbed fresh materials and tried again.
No excuses. No standing around idle.
As a result, the students' skills improved rapidly under this absurdly expensive teaching method.
By the end of the lesson, most groups had already completed roughly half of the ingredient-processing stage.
"All right." Tom clapped his hands for attention.
"Your homework is a three-parchment reflection on ingredient processing. No skipping lines. Hand it directly to me during Thursday's class."
Having assigned the homework, he left as casually as he'd arrived.
...
..
Before long, the entire school knew that Tom Riddle would be handling Potions classes for the foreseeable future.
Nobody questioned whether he was qualified to teach. What everyone wanted to know was how his teaching style differed from Snape's.
As a result, the students who had already attended his classes suddenly became highly sought-after sources of information.
Young witches and wizards crowded around them, eager to hear what had happened.
Most of those students wore strange expressions.
Their future looked bleak. They had finally gotten rid of one Snape, only for another version to arrive. How were they supposed to survive this?
Still, when people heard about the unlimited supply of practice materials, they couldn't help clicking their tongues in amazement. That kind of training environment was absurdly generous.
And it wasn't just the students who were curious. The professors were too.
Everyone knew Tom was a master alchemist. Generally speaking, an alchemist of that caliber would also possess exceptional potion-making skills.
The only question was how exceptional.
So that afternoon, during a sixth-year Potions class, a few professors who happened to have free periods came to sit in and observe.
Tom didn't stop them. On the contrary, he welcomed them openly and let them take seats at the back of the classroom.
Then he taught exactly as he normally would.
Same routine as the morning classes.
First, establish authority with a little intimidation. Then introduce another advanced potion and let the students practice freely.
Why switch potions?
Simple. A certain professor's stockpile was enormous, but constantly draining the same ingredients wasn't ideal.
Better to spread the damage around evenly.
"..."
The observing professors were stunned by his extravagance.
To nurture Hogwarts' students, Tom was willing to spend this much?
Well, none of them knew the truth yet. They all assumed the ingredients were being purchased with Tom's own money.
And just like that… a week slipped by in the blink of an eye.
And in that time, Snape's carefully hoarded collection had been reduced to almost nothing.
It had to be said, becoming a Potions Master was a fantastic way to make money.
The high-grade ingredients Snape had personally accumulated were enough for the entire school to burn through in nearly a week—and that was only what he kept in his office.
Sadly, he was limited to the materials in Snape's office.
Today, the supplies had finally run dry, and Tom lost interest in the game. So he lifted the curse he had placed on Snape.
Of course, recovery would still take some time, so on the first Monday of May, Tom was still acting as the substitute Potions professor.
Standing in the now nearly empty Potions office, he felt a trace of melancholy.
"How am I supposed to get through this next week...? I should've paced myself a little better."
Then his eyes suddenly lit up.
Wait. Snape wasn't the only professor who had received plenty of benefits from him. Wasn't Professor Sprout another one?
Without delay, Tom headed for the greenhouses.
After the students finished class, he pulled Professor Sprout aside for a private conversation.
"Tom, are you absolutely certain?" the plump witch asked, looking at him in surprise. "I never knew Severus could be so generous."
"You can trust me, Professor." Tom thumped his chest confidently. "Professor Snape left everything in my hands while he's away."
"Just go ahead and gather whatever materials you need. When the time comes, send the bill directly to St. Mungo's."
Sprout hesitated for a moment before nodding.
After all, she'd put herself in Snape's shoes.
If she had a student as outstanding as Tom, she would undoubtedly have an excellent relationship with them as well.
So if Tom said this was Snape's intention, it was probably true.
What did she have to worry about? Absolutely nothing.
.
.
.