In Potions class, Dudley wasn't following Snape's instructions to brew a Shrinking Solution. Instead, he was tinkering with something new.
Ever since he got his hands on Snape's old notebook, Dudley had been inspired. The methods Snape described for combining potions opened up a whole new world for him. Once you understood the properties of potion ingredients, there were a hundred ways to use them—if you had the skill, the guts, and the imagination.
And imagination? Dudley had that in spades. Maybe it was because he came from the Muggle world, where creativity was second nature.
"Oh, Dursley," Snape's voice dripped with disdain as he loomed over Dudley's cauldron, which was emitting a dark, ominous mist. "I don't recall water chestnuts being part of the Shrinking Solution. You've ruined its properties. Stop meddling."
Snape's face was as stormy as ever, staring down at the murky mess in Dudley's cauldron.
"Your performance is worse than Longbottom's in his first year!"
Back in first year, Neville Longbottom had been terrified of Potions class. Despite his knack for Herbology, Snape's intimidating presence and Neville's own lack of confidence turned every lesson into a disaster. But after joining the Disciplinary Committee and two years of hard work, Neville's skills had improved dramatically. He wasn't top-tier, but he was better than most of the young witches and wizards in the room.
"Professor Snape," Dudley said calmly, meeting Snape's gaze, "I don't think adding water chestnuts is a problem at all."
In all of Hogwarts, from first to seventh year, Dudley was the only student bold enough to challenge Snape in Potions class.
He continued, unfazed. "Water chestnuts have cooling properties. They reduce heat, nourish the lungs, and detoxify the body. As an auxiliary ingredient, they can enhance the effects of daisy roots and stabilize the volatility of caterpillar flesh, optimizing the Shrinking Solution's performance."
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "So, you're trying to improve the potion recipe?"
His tone mocked Dudley's audacity. "Trying to run before you can walk."
Most students would've crumbled under Snape's sarcasm, but Dudley? Snape might throw a few barbed comments, but there was a strange favoritism there that made other students jealous.
"And have you succeeded?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dudley shook his head, glancing regretfully at the blackened gunk in his cauldron. "Not quite. I think I got the dosage wrong."
Before he could finish, Snape cut him off. "That proves your idea is flawed. If you'd followed my instructions, you'd have a perfect Shrinking Solution by now."
And it was true—following Snape's methods, Dudley could brew most potions flawlessly, just like a textbook.
But so what?
"Professor," Dudley said firmly, "if I just follow your instructions, no matter how well I do, I'll only ever be your imitator."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Oh? So you think you can surpass me, Master Dursley?" His voice was laced with mockery.
"Absolutely," Dudley replied without hesitation.
Most wizards would be content with mastering the basics, but not Dudley. He wasn't satisfied with being good enough. He wanted to surpass Snape—and not just Snape, but every professor at Hogwarts.
"There's an old saying from a great Muggle sage,: 'The student surpasses the master.' I don't just want to match you, Professor. I want to go beyond you—and every other professor here."
The classroom fell silent. The other students were stunned, barely daring to breathe. You could've heard a pin drop.
They braced for Snape's wrath, but instead, he just gave a soft, almost amused hum.
"Very well, Mr. Dursley," Snape said, standing beneath the towering cabinet of potion ingredients, his face half-hidden in shadow, unreadable. "Since you're so confident, I'll give you three weeks. Present me with an improved Shrinking Solution by then."
He paused, his voice turning sharp. "If you fail, you'll clean every girls' bathroom in Hogwarts—by hand, no magic. What do you think of that, Dursley?"
"And if I succeed?" Dudley shot back.
Snape's lips twitched into a cold smirk. "If you succeed, you can brew whatever you like in my class and ask me any question, and I'll answer fully and honestly."
"Deal!" Dudley said with a grin.
To the other students, it looked like a clash of wills, but in truth, Dudley and Snape were in sync. This so-called "bet" was really a test—a teacher challenging his student.
Every test needs a penalty and a reward.
Unseen by the others, Snape's lips curved ever so slightly, a fleeting moment of nostalgia. Once upon a time, I challenged my own Potions professor just like this.
After class, the students buzzed with excitement. Some wanted to see Dudley fail spectacularly; others rooted for him. And some, deep down, hoped he'd pull it off, even if they wouldn't admit it.
Dudley's bold declaration in class sparked something in the young witches and wizards. "Surpass the professor" wasn't just a catchy phrase—it echoed the dreams of every ambitious student.
Who hasn't dreamed of being the best, the most special?
"Snape's being unfair!" Hermione grumbled as they left the classroom. She'd been muttering complaints about Snape ever since the lesson ended.
Her Potions skills were second only to Dudley's, so she knew better than anyone how tough it was to improve a potion recipe. Three weeks? It was an impossible timeline—even for Snape himself.
"Dudley, why'd you agree to that?" she asked, exasperated.
But while Hermione was brilliant at Potions, she was still a step behind Dudley and Snape. What looked like an argument in class was actually a silent understanding between mentor and student.
Dudley hadn't come up with the idea to improve the Shrinking Solution on a whim. He'd been preparing for weeks, and he was one step away from success. Three weeks wasn't just enough time—it was more than enough.
Hermione looked at Dudley, her brown eyes bright and determined. "I'll clean the bathrooms with you," she said firmly.
If a girl is willing to scrub toilets with you, you'd better treat her well.
---