As Harry gradually clammed up under Snape's relentless questioning, Adrian remembered something he'd read in his previous life about the hidden meanings behind those particular questions.
The ingredients Snape had asked about weren't random. In the language of flowers, asphodel meant "my regrets follow you to the grave," while wormwood traditionally symbolized bitter sorrow and absence. Put together with the Draught of Living Death, it was almost like Snape was asking Harry, "Do you know how deeply I regret your mother's death?"
Adrian felt a pang of sympathy as he watched the potions master's cold expression. What must it be like for Snape, facing Harry every day, seeing Lily's eyes in James Potter's face?
"Adrian Blackwood!" Snape's sharp voice cut through his thoughts. The professor had apparently noticed something in Adrian's expression, because his black eyes were now fixed on him with laser focus. "Since you seem so interested in my lesson, perhaps you'd like to answer these questions yourself."
Adrian's stomach dropped for a moment, he hadn't expected to be put on the spot, but he quickly recovered. Thankfully, he'd read the books.
"Adding powdered asphodel root to an infusion of wormwood creates the Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion," he said clearly. "A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat and can save you from most poisons. And monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also known as aconitite."
Even knowing the answers from the original story, Adrian had been worried Snape might throw him a curveball. After all, none of those questions were actually in the first-year curriculum.
[Ding! You have successfully answered Snape's advanced questions in class. Three questions answered with 100% accuracy. Academic achievement points +9.]
The system notification made Adrian's worried expression instantly transform into surprise, then barely contained excitement. All his previous anxiety evaporated.
Bring it on! Adrian thought, looking at Snape with newfound determination. Ask me ten more questions if you want, I'm not backing down from this challenge!
His rapidly changing facial expressions didn't go unnoticed by his classmates, who watched in fascination as he went from worried to thrilled in about three seconds.
But to Adrian's disappointment, Snape simply turned away with a dismissive look and focused his attention back on Harry.
"Well, Potter? It seems not every first-year wizard is quite as... unprepared as you appear to be."
"Professor, I—" Harry started to protest, half-rising from his seat, but Snape cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"Potter! For your abysmal performance today, Gryffindor loses one point."
The verdict delivered, Snape swept away to continue his lesson, while Ron grabbed Harry's arm to keep him from doing something stupid. Harry's pale face had turned red with anger and embarrassment.
Adrian felt a stab of guilt as he caught Harry's eye, offering an apologetic look before turning his attention back to the lesson. Part of him was still hoping Snape would ask him more questions, those academic points were too good to pass up.
Unfortunately for Adrian's point-farming ambitions, Snape seemed to forget he existed for the rest of the class. The professor spent his time prowling around the dungeon like a particularly nasty bat, occasionally stopping to berate students for minor mistakes. But his real attention remained fixed on Harry, studying every move the boy made with those cold, dark eyes. Any small error in Harry's potion brewing was met with cutting sarcasm.
Ron, sitting next to Harry, became collateral damage when Snape discovered Scabbers hiding in his robes.
"Mr. Weasley," Snape said silkily, plucking the terrified rat up by his tail. "How convenient. We have a test subject for today's Boil-Cure Potion."
Ron looked like he might cry on the spot. "Professor, please, he's just—"
"Silence." Snape dangled the squeaking Scabbers over Ron's cauldron of questionable yellow-brown liquid. "Let's see how effective your brewing skills really are."
The rat's panicked squeaking was truly pitiful. Adrian couldn't help but feel sorry for Peter Pettigrew, the man had been terrorized twice in just a few days at Hogwarts, and he didn't even know why.
Fortunately for Scabbers, Neville chose that moment to accidentally melt his cauldron, sending acrid smoke billowing through the dungeon and ruining Snape's entertainment. The professor stalked over to deal with the mess, releasing the traumatized rat back to Ron's protective hands.
When the hour-long torture session finally ended, the first-years practically fled from the dungeon.
"This was horrible!" Ron gasped once they were safely upstairs, clutching Scabbers to his chest. "How is Snape even allowed to teach? He nearly murdered Scabbers!"
Harry nodded grimly, still smarting from the public humiliation. "I don't understand why he hates me so much. What did I ever do to him?"
"Harry, if you'd actually read your textbook before class, you might have been able to answer Professor Snape's questions," Hermione said primly, though she glanced at Adrian appreciatively. "Like Adrian did. Professor Snape can see who's prepared and who isn't."
Adrian winced at the praise. "Hermione, those questions weren't even in our first-year textbook. Snape was asking about advanced material."
Hermione's mouth tightened, she'd noticed Snape's unfair treatment too, but her respect for authority made it hard for her to openly criticize a professor.
"Still," she muttered, "there's no excuse for not trying harder."
Ron looked ready to explode at her defense of Snape, and Harry's jaw clenched. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife as they walked toward Hagrid's hut in uncomfortable silence.
Adrian quickly stepped in as peacemaker. "Look, we all saw what happened in there. Snape was out of line, and everyone knows it. But fighting about it isn't going to help Harry, and it's definitely not going to change Snape's attitude."
By the time they reached the gamekeeper's hut, the three had grudgingly let go of their argument, though the atmosphere was still a bit strained.
"Hagrid!" Harry called, knocking on the heavy wooden door. "We came to visit!"
A massive dog started barking inside, followed by heavy footsteps and the sound of someone wrestling with an overly enthusiastic pet.
"Harry! There yeh are!" Hagrid's beaming face appeared in the doorway as he pulled the door open with one hand while restraining his enormous dog with the other. "Come in, come in! Don't mind Fang, he's all bark, no bite."
Adrian followed the others into the single-room hut, taking in the cozy chaos. Hams and pheasants hung from the rafters, a massive kettle bubbled over the fire, and every surface seemed covered with the comfortable clutter of someone who lived alone and liked it that way.