Potion Class was held in an underground dungeon, a vast, stone-walled chamber that felt damp and cold even in the morning light. When Dudley, Harry, and Ron arrived, the room was already filled with a cacophony of voices, first-year students bustling about, already forming their distinct Gryffindor and Slytherin clusters.
"Dudley, Harry, Ron, over here!" Neville Longbottom called out, waving frantically from a table he and Seamus Finnigan had claimed. The trio quickly made their way over.
Not far off, the Slytherin students cast scornful glances their way. Malfoy's eyes, usually cold and calculating, darkened considerably the moment he saw Dudley. Slowly, deliberately, he rose from his seat and began to walk towards them, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering faithfully behind him like two hulking shadows.
"You three were lucky to escape expulsion last night," Malfoy sneered, his voice cutting through the classroom's chatter with chilling clarity. "But this isn't over. I'll be watching you, every single day, until I kick all of you out of Hogwarts!"
As the self-proclaimed leader of the Slytherin first-years, Malfoy felt compelled to assert his dominance. He had boasted to his peers that the "Mudblood" who had dared to strike him would vanish from Hogwarts after last night's meeting. Dudley's continued presence, unpunished, was a direct affront to his authority. He needed to save face.
"Is that so?" Dudley chuckled softly, a low, dangerous sound. "Are you sure you can keep an eye on me?"
Then, with a sudden, deceptive swiftness that Harry and Ron had come to recognize, Dudley's right hand shot out. It aimed directly for Malfoy's face, a blur of motion, but stopped inches from his nose.
"Ah!" Malfoy shrieked, his face contorting in pure terror. He scrambled backward, tripping over two tables in his desperate haste to escape, before finally landing in a heap on the stone floor.
"Hahahahaha!" A roar of laughter erupted from the Gryffindor side of the classroom, delighting in Malfoy's undignified collapse.
"I merely raised my hand," Dudley said, a cool smile playing on his lips as he looked down at the pale, disheveled boy. "No need to be so nervous."
"Dursley!" Malfoy spat, his face flushed with fury and humiliation. He had come to salvage his pride, and now he had lost even more. "You just wait, I won't let you off!" He scrambled to his feet, assisted by Crabbe and Goyle, his words a venomous curse.
"Anyone can make threats," Dudley replied, his voice laced with mocking challenge. "Why don't you try some actual action?"
"I want to duel you!" Malfoy shrieked, his voice cracking with rage. "A wizard's duel!"
"Alright," Dudley agreed instantly, his smile unwavering. "I'm ready anytime."
"Tonight—" Malfoy began, but his words were cut short by the sound of steady, heavy footsteps approaching the classroom door.
Professor Snape.
Malfoy instantly snapped shut his mouth, stifling a frustrated snort, and scurried back to his seat.
Bang!
The classroom door was violently shoved open, slamming against the stone wall with a thud that reverberated through the room. Professor Snape strode in, his black robes billowing around him like a storm cloud.
All the students immediately stiffened, their expressions shifting from casual chatter to rigid attention. Their intuition screamed that this professor was not to be trifled with.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Snape scanned the room, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian, before raising his wand. With three sharp claps, the curtains on the windows snapped shut, plunging the already dim dungeon classroom into a deeper, more eerie gloom. The classroom door slammed shut behind him.
The air grew heavy, thick with an unspoken dread. Not a single student dared to breathe too loudly, especially those from Gryffindor.
Dudley watched Snape. He couldn't help but notice the Potions Master's hair: it was greasy, lank, and tangled like seaweed, as if it hadn't seen a comb—or soap—in a year.
"You are here to learn the precise science and exact art of Potion-making," Snape began, his voice barely a whisper, yet each word carried with chilling clarity to every corner of the room. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I've had to teach before." As he finished, his eyes flickered, deliberately lingering on Harry and his companions.
A meaningful sneer spread across Malfoy's face, and he exchanged a triumphant glance with Crabbe and Goyle.
Dudley met Snape's gaze with an indifferent stare. He felt no fear. He had faced true horrors, beings of cosmic power and mind-shattering madness. Snape, with his greasy hair and theatrical disdain, was merely a mortal.
Snape's gaze lingered on Dudley for a moment, a subtle narrowing of his eyes. There was no expression on Dudley's face, yet Snape felt a flicker of something unsettling, an emotion he couldn't quite place, emanating from the boy. But his focus wasn't on Dudley. His eyes moved to the scrawny boy sitting next to him.
"Ah, yes," Snape drawled, his voice laced with contempt. "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity."
The Slytherin side of the classroom, led by Malfoy, erupted in a chorus of mocking laughter.
Snape ignored their amusement, his eyes fixed on Harry. "Potter!" Snape closed his eyes for a beat, then opened them, his voice now cold and precise. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
What kind of root? What kind of solution? Harry's mind went blank. He glanced at Ron, whose face was equally bewildered. His gaze then shifted to Dudley, who was watching Snape with an unnerving calm.
On the other side of the classroom, Hermione Granger's hand shot into the air, trembling with eagerness. Snape, however, seemed to ignore her completely.
"I don't know, sir," Harry admitted, his voice barely audible.
Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, her eyes casting a look at Harry that clearly said, Didn't I tell you to read the book beforehand?
"Tsk, tsk," Snape sneered, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. "It seems fame doesn't mean everything. Your eyes are truly clear yet foolish."
Malfoy nodded in deep, almost comical agreement.
"Dudley," Snape continued, his gaze returning to Dudley, a challenge in his voice. "As Harry's… older brother, perhaps you can answer?" He wanted to unnerve Dudley, to draw a reaction from the boy whose indifferent stare had made him so uncomfortable.
"A powerful sleeping potion," Dudley stated, his voice even and unperturbed, cutting through the tense silence. "Known as the Draught of Living Death."
(End of Chapter)
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