A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 593: Advanced Potion-Making - (1)

In the potion class, students stopped their work, their attention drawn between Harry and Snape.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

"I-I'm just checking the steps," Harry stammered.

"What do you have there? Show it to me!"

Harry showed clear reluctance, trying to hide the parchment behind him, but Snape approached and snatched it away. He began reading the text.

Harry felt frustrated. He hadn't done anything wrong, unlike Crabbe and Goyle who were loudly mixing their cauldron, breaking class rules. Why was he being targeted?

Soon, Snape's expression turned uncertain. He moved between the parchment and Harry, his unsettling gaze making Harry instinctively use Occlumency.

A sneer formed on Snape's lips.

Harry felt an inexplicable sense of relief. He was almost looking forward to Snape questioning him, asking where he got those notes. He could say, 'I got some help from Professor Snape and the Half-Blood Prince. Honestly, I find their teachings better.'

He didn't care about Snape's recent papers on new materials for exploding snail slime or the newspaper's praise about his proximity to the Merlin Medal. He only knew their mutual animosity, and whenever it seemed to diminish, Snape always found a way to rekindle Harry's resentment with a few words or just a glance.

But Snape didn't engage with Harry.

Moving to the other side, he picked up a textbook from the table. Ron and Neville emitted faint groans, as if someone had choked them, but Harry shook his head at them, reassuring them.

Hermione let out a light huff from her nose.

Snape flipped through the book, but it seemed ordinary except for two pages of parchment he found inside. Even without looking, Harry knew they contained simplified steps for potions, something he had inserted.

Snape read carefully, the classroom filled with nothing but the bubbling of cauldrons. Soon, white steam began filling the room, but the students forgot their work, their gaze fixed on the commotion.

Setting down the parchment, Snape's hooked nose faintly visible in the steam.

"I underestimated you, Potter," he said calmly. "Clearly, once again, you've acquired something not rightfully yours through unexpected fame. Perhaps I should peruse the membership list of the 'Harry Potter Fan Club'; the names there might surprise me."

"That's interesting. I'd love to see that," Harry gritted his teeth, but couldn't help thinking, "Just ask where this stuff came from. I can't wait."

"You should address me as 'Sir' or 'Professor'," Snape said coldly, cutting through the haze as he returned to the lectern. "Harry Potter, tampering with textbooks, unauthorized handling, disrespecting a teacher—how many points should I dock from Gryffindor?"

Though unseen, Harry felt an unpleasant gaze directed at him.

Gryffindor students glared at Snape.

"I thought a normal professor would reward innovative thinking within norms!" a voice, strangled, echoed in the mist.

"Who!" Snape angrily demanded, but the voice vanished. He waved his hand, the windows flew open, and the pearly-white fog in the classroom vanished instantly. The students below stared blankly at him. Harry noticed Seamus discreetly moving his hand away from his throat. He was certain a wand hid within that oversized robe.

"No one confesses? Hmm?" Snape spoke leisurely. The students were visibly frightened. Satisfied with the class's atmosphere, Snape conjured a piece of parchment and picked up a quill from the lectern, the nib soaked in ink:

"Let me see, five points from each Gryffindor—"

"Wait!" Harry shouted, feeling the need to do something. Snape cooperatively halted, his eyes revealing the seasoned cunning of a predator cornering its prey. Harry realized his struggles were futile. Suddenly, a memory of Professor Slughorn presenting this textbook set flashed in his mind. Harry yelled, "You can't deny this method unless you deny yourself—"

As the words left his mouth, both Harry and Snape froze.

Hermione also froze, realizing something, inhaling softly, looking incredulously at Snape.

"Shut up, Potter," Snape said. "Sit down— and you all, let's see what you can produce in this class!" He ignored Harry, walking around the classroom, pointing out students' mistakes.

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Dazed, Harry sat down, staring blankly at his cauldron.

"You're something, Harry!" Ron said nearby. "We need to hurry; there's not much time left. Huh? I thought I was over-brewing before, but now it's just right."

Harry barely listened during the afternoon class. Sirius even asked him what was wrong, and he brushed it off as a stomach ache. In the evening, he and Ron and Hermione did homework in the library. Ron was surprisingly efficient today, finishing an hour earlier than Harry.

He even had time to peruse the fifth-year Potions textbook given by Professor Slughorn.

"It's a shame I can only read Professor Snape's writing; the other person's handwriting is too messy," Ron grumbled, eyes almost glued to the page, staring at a black ink blotch.

Hermione's attitude was complicated. She helped organize notes but adamantly refused to follow their content.

"Hermione, Snape is teaching it all wrong," Ron pointed out the steps in the textbook.

"That's the textbook's mistake," Hermione said calmly.

"Well—what?"

"If you paid attention, Snape always displays ingredients and methods on the board. Do you think it matches the textbook exactly?"

Ron stared at her dumbfounded, and even the slightly annoyed Harry was staring.

Hermione sighed, "Harry, you can't just listen halfway. While Slughorn hinted that Snape might be the Half-Blood Prince, he also mentioned that Snape taught the orthodox methods—"

"Wait!" Ron exclaimed, "Half-Blood Prince? Who? Snape?" He stared at Harry and Hermione, successfully seeking some evidence. "You... both knew? When did this happen? Why wasn't I aware?"

He fired a series of questions, but neither Harry nor Hermione answered. Harry was in a gloomy mood and didn't want to respond. Hermione swiftly packed her things, stuffing parchment, ink bottle, and textbooks into her bag, zipping it up efficiently.

"Where are you going?" Ron called out.

"Of course, to flee before Madame Pince shows up, approximately ten seconds," she hurriedly slipped away.

Harry and Ron were stunned for a few seconds, shouting in unison, quickly packing their things. As expected, a few seconds later, the severe-faced librarian Madame Pince appeared, furious.

"Screaming in the library! What's this? Scribbling and doodling in books? Serious desecration! Vile behavior—"

"This is my book!" Harry exclaimed, grabbing the Potions textbook from her and clutching various odds and ends as he dashed out of the library, followed by a flying feather duster, both he and Ron getting a few swats.

"Terrible, couldn't Hermione have warned us earlier?" Ron rubbed the back of his head angrily. "It's swollen."

Back in the common room, Hermione was sitting elegantly, reading a book.

Ron immediately exploded in anger, berating her, causing Hermione's eyebrows to twitch. Though Harry had some

sympathy for her, he still wanted to know what was going on.

"Okay, Hermione, why didn't you tell us about the 'Half-Blood Prince'?"

She looked up from her book. "Because I was wrong."

"What?"

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