The Potions classroom at Hogwarts was located deep beneath the castle, buried within the cold stone dungeons. Combined with the eerie atmosphere and Professor Snape's naturally oppressive presence, the room felt less like a classroom and more like a prison chamber.
Not a single student dared breathe too loudly.
Even Ron Weasley, who normally couldn't stop talking, sat stiffly in silence like a frightened quail.
Bang.
The dungeon door slammed open.
Professor Snape swept into the room with his black robes billowing behind him like dark smoke. With a casual wave of his wand, every window in the classroom shut at once. The already dim chamber became even darker and more suffocating.
"In my class," Snape began in his low, silky voice, "there will be no foolish wand waving or ridiculous incantations."
His cold eyes slowly swept across the first-years.
"I suspect many of you fail to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making."
He placed one hand against the podium and leaned forward slightly.
"Since there is little foolish wand-work involved, many of you will hardly believe this is magic at all."
The dungeon remained utterly silent.
"I do not expect you to truly understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes…" Snape continued quietly. "The delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses…"
His voice grew softer, yet somehow even more dangerous.
"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death…"
Then his eyes sharpened abruptly.
"That is, if you are not as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
As the only professor in Hogwarts who treated introductions like dramatic stage performances, Snape's classroom presence was terrifyingly effective. He prowled slowly between the desks like a hunting hawk searching for weakness.
Eventually, his gaze landed on one particular student.
Harry Potter.
Without Hermione beside him to warn him like in the original timeline, Harry remained completely oblivious to the danger approaching. He was still distractedly scribbling notes and muttering to himself when Snape suddenly stopped beside his desk.
"Mr. Potter."
Harry jumped violently at the sound of his name, drawing scattered laughter from several students.
Snape stared directly into Harry's eyes.
"Our new celebrity," he said coldly. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Here it comes.
Lucien nearly burst into laughter.
This was one of the most iconic scenes from the original Harry Potter books—and one of the most hidden confessions in the entire story.
Asphodel and wormwood together symbolised regret and bitter sorrow. In the language of flowers, Snape's question was practically a silent confession directed toward Lily Potter.
Lucien watched with immense interest, genuinely regretting that he didn't have popcorn.
Harry, of course, looked completely lost.
"I… don't know, sir."
Snape let out a soft sneer.
"Tut, tut. Fame clearly isn't everything."
Several Slytherins snickered quietly.
"Let us try again, Potter," Snape continued smoothly. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Harry's expression darkened further.
"I don't know, Professor."
"And what is the difference," Snape asked silkily, "between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Harry's face flushed red.
"I don't know."
Snape gave a cold smile.
"Clearly, fame isn't enough after all. Is it, Mr. Potter?"
Harry finally snapped.
"I'm not the only one who doesn't know the answers!"
He glared directly back at Snape, irritation flashing across his face.
"Oh?" Snape replied softly.
Then his eyes shifted toward another student whose smile was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress.
"Mr. Grindelwald," Snape drawled, "perhaps you would care to answer the questions I posed to our celebrity?"
Lucien stood up calmly.
He knew this was coming the moment Snape started questioning Harry. The Draught of Living Death was a potion taught years later to advanced students. There was no chance any normal first-year could answer it.
"When powdered root of asphodel is added to an infusion of wormwood," Lucien answered respectfully, "it creates a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death."
"A bezoar," he continued smoothly, "is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat. It serves as an antidote to many poisons."
"As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are simply two different names for the same plant: aconite."
Snape never even turned his head toward him.
"I will remind you only once, Mr. Grindelwald," he said coldly. "If you dare wear that ridiculous grin in my classroom again, I will personally throw you out."
Lucien immediately straightened his expression.
"Yes, Professor."
"Sit down. Slytherin gains five points."
Several Slytherins looked delighted.
"And as for you, Mr. Potter," Snape continued without pause, "for your ignorance and your arrogance, Gryffindor loses five points."
Harry's face darkened with anger, but Snape completely ignored him.
Instead, he swept his gaze across the entire classroom.
"Why," he asked dangerously, "have none of you written down the answers Mr. Grindelwald just gave?"
The sound of frantic quills scratching against parchment instantly filled the room.
Anyone with functioning survival instincts could tell that Professor Snape was in an extremely foul mood.
No one wanted to provoke him further.
The lesson finally began properly.
After demonstrating how to prepare dried nettles, crush snake fangs, and measure ingredients correctly, Snape divided the class into pairs to brew a simple Cure for Boils potion.
As expected, Slytherins remained with Slytherins, and Gryffindors partnered with fellow Gryffindors.
The moment Lucien spotted Ron, Harry, and Seamus gathered around the same cauldron, however, a terrible feeling instantly rose in his chest.
Neville Longbottom wasn't present this time since he had been paired elsewhere.
But Seamus Finnigan was.
Lucien silently stared at the trio for several seconds before decisively dragging Draco toward the farthest corner of the dungeon.
Draco looked confused.
"Why are we all the way over here?"
"Safety precautions," Lucien answered calmly.
Draco had no idea what that meant, but he trusted Lucien enough not to question it further.
Fortunately, the Cure for Boils potion wasn't difficult. Even without Lucien's help, Draco could manage it perfectly well. The two quickly divided the work between them and proceeded efficiently through each step.
"Oh?" Snape's voice suddenly drifted over from nearby. "It seems our illustrious Slytherin prodigy isn't quite as eager to help others as the rumours claim."
Lucien glanced up calmly.
"I merely thought other students might benefit more from learning independently today."
"Hmph."
Snape gave a mocking sneer. His already severe face somehow became even more intimidating.
Then—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion erupted from the centre of the classroom.
Bright green acidic liquid exploded outward in every direction.
Unfortunately for him, Professor Snape happened to be standing closest to the blast.
Sizzle—
The corrosive potion burned violently wherever it landed, producing harsh smoking sounds as it ate into the stone floor. Several nearby students screamed after being splashed accidentally.
Snape himself staggered backward as part of the potion struck his neck and sleeve.
"IDIOTS!"
His furious roar nearly shook the dungeon walls.
But the disaster wasn't over yet.
Students panicked while trying to avoid the spreading acid, accidentally knocking over nearby cauldrons in the process. Flames spilled across desks and wooden chairs, spreading rapidly through the classroom.
Within moments, the dungeon descended into complete chaos.
"Aguamenti!"
A powerful stream of water burst across the room, instantly extinguishing several spreading fires.
"Scourgify!"
Another spell followed immediately, clearing debris and spilled potion from the surrounding desks.
The students instinctively turned toward the source of the voice.
Lucien calmly lowered his wand and strode forward through the chaos.
"Anyone uninjured should help escort the injured students to the Hospital Wing," he ordered clearly. "If you can cast basic water spells, help extinguish the remaining fires first."
The panicked students immediately regained some composure under his direction.
Everyone hurried to help.
Lucien, meanwhile, silently thanked his instincts.
I knew something terrible was going to happen.
Even without Neville, the combined destructive potential of Harry, Ron, and Seamus was still catastrophic. If he hadn't moved to the far side of the room earlier, he probably would've ended up like Snape.
Unfortunately, Snape himself clearly disagreed.
"Mr. Grindelwald."
Snape's voice was so cold it sounded murderous.
"If you continue staring at me with those revoltingly amused eyes, I may decide to remove them personally."
Lucien immediately lowered his gaze.
Snape then turned toward the true culprits of the disaster, his expression darker than thunderclouds.
"Mr. Weasley. Mr. Finnigan."
His voice dropped into a terrifying whisper.
"I sincerely hope the two of you possess an explanation for this astonishing display of stupidity."
....
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