The walk back down to the dungeons was a far more somber affair than their earlier exploratory mission. The green-tinged torchlight now felt ominous, the silence heavy with anticipation. This time, the heavy oak door to the Potions classroom was firmly shut.
"He's in there," Lisa Turpin whispered. "Waiting."
Talora took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and the smell hit them—a complex, astringent blend of dried herbs, sharp chemicals, and something earthy. The classroom was larger than it had seemed, with desks arranged in pairs. The Slytherins were already there, clustered on the right side. The Gryffindors, including Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, were looking nervously around. Hermione Granger sat bolt upright at the very front, a fresh piece of parchment and a new quill already laid out with military precision.
Professor Snape stood at the front. He took the roll call, his voice a low bat-like swoop, and paused only at one name.
"Ah, Yes," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity."
He finished the list and swept his black eyes over them. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began, his voice capturing the room in a silken web. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death…"
He paused, his dramatic flair at its peak. It was then his eyes fell upon Harry Potter, who, caught up in the speech, was hastily trying to scribble down 'stopper death' on his parchment.
Snape's expression darkened. "...if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." His voice lost its theatricality, turning sharp and cold. "Potter!" he snapped. "Our new celebrity seems to think he doesn't need to listen. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air, straining towards the ceiling.
Harry looked stunned. "I don't know, sir," he said.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's frantic waving. "Let's try again. Where, Potter, would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"
Hermione stretched her arm so high she lifted off her seat, a silent plea.
"I don't know, sir."
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, Potter?"
From the Ravenclaw table, Talora leaned over to Shya. " good God, does she have springs in her shoes?" she whispered, trying to stifle a giggle.
Shya's response was a quiet, perfectly modulated murmur, her public mask of polite interest firmly in place. "It's certainly… enthusiastic. Though I'm not sure it's the most effective strategy with this particular professor."
Snape finally delivered the answers himself, then cut off Hermione with a sharp, "Sit down, you silly girl." He took five points from Gryffindor for Harry's cheek after a question about monkshood.
"Now," Snape said, his gaze sweeping the room. "You will be working in assigned pairs for the duration of the year. Do not waste my time with complaints. Gill." Shya straightened up instinctively. "You will partner with Black." Her eyes flickered to where Cassian Black sat, his expression unreadable. "Livanthos." Talora sat up taller. "You will partner with Nott." A slow, pleased smile spread across Roman Nott's face as he caught Talora's eye.
With the partnerships established, Snape finally began the lesson. "Today, you will brew a simple Cure for Boils. The instructions are on the board. Do not deviate. The consequences of error are… visibly unpleasant." A cruel smile touched his lips. "You may begin."
**Shya & Cassian**
Shya moved to sit next to Cassian, putting on her best 'friendly and capable' face, a mask she wore effortlessly. "Shall we get started? I'll measure the dried nettles if you want to start crushing the snake fangs?"
Cassian's head turned slowly. His grey eyes, cool and assessing, scanned her face as if trying to see past the pleasant facade. After a moment of silence that felt much longer, he gave a curt nod and pushed the mortar and pestle towards her. "The fangs need to be a fine powder. No chunks."
"Of course," Shya said, her smile not faltering. She began crushing, her movements careful and precise. "So, do you enjoy Potions?"
"It's a necessary discipline," he replied, his voice flat, not looking up from his own meticulous measurement of porcupine quills.
"It is," she agreed, keeping her tone light and agreeable. "I like the logic of it. Like a recipe, but with more… stakes." She gestured with her head towards the Gryffindor side of the room where Neville Longbottom was already looking panic-stricken.
Cassian followed her gaze, then looked back at her. A flicker of something—amusement?—crossed his features. "Higher stakes than a souflée."
It wasn't much, but it was a crack in the wall. Shya's smile became a fraction more genuine. "Considerably."
**Talora & Roman**
Across the aisle, the dynamic was entirely different.
"Well, partner," Talora said, grinning at Roman as she sat down. "Right, a Cure for Boils. Six snake fangs, crushed. Want to do the honors?" she asked, holding out the mortar and pestle.
"Happy to," Roman said with an easy smile. He took it, his movements confident. "So, what's the verdict on Snape's teaching style? Inspired or terrifying?"
"A bit of both, I think," Talora admitted, grinning as she measured out the nettles. "He's definitely not boring. And he knows his stuff. Did you see his storage cabinets? Some of those ingredients must be incredibly rare."
"The family's always emphasized Potions," Roman said conversationally, grinding the fangs into a fine dust. "It's where true, subtle power often lies. Less flashy than dueling, but just as effective."
"I can see that," Talora replied, impressed. She added her nettles to the cauldron. "Your turn for the horned slugs."
As they worked, a commotion erupted from the other side of the room. There was a loud, acidic hiss, and the smell of burnt sugar filled the air. Neville Longbottom's cauldron had melted into a twisted blob, and the failed potion was dripping onto the floor, smoking. Great, painful-looking boils were already erupting on his arms.
"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, magically vanishing the mess. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Take him to the hospital wing," he barked at a pale-faced Seamus Finnigan.
As a weeping Neville was led away, Talora and Shya shared a wide-eyed look of sympathy across the aisle.
"Oh, the poor thing," Talora whispered to Roman.
"A rather dramatic lesson in following instructions," Roman murmured back, though he looked more thoughtful than mocking.
A few minutes later, Snape swooped down on Harry and Ron, who had been whispering. "You! Potter! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought you'd see him make a fool of himself? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
The bell rang, a welcome relief. As they packed their perfectly brewed, turquoise-blue potions into vials, Talora turned to the boys. Shya was already standing, her bag over her shoulder, her expression once again that of a pleasant, high-achieving student.
"So," Talora began, her tone casual. "We're heading to the library after dinner. Myself, Shya, Padma, Mandy, Lisa. That Transfiguration theory is a beast, and there's safety in numbers. You two should come. It'll be more… efficient than working alone, and frankly, it might be more fun."
Roman's smile was instant. He looked at Cassian, who was watching Shya with that same unnerving stillness.
After a moment, Cassian gave a single, slow nod. "Efficient," he echoed, the word a quiet agreement.
"Great! It's a date—a *study* date," Talora corrected quickly, her cheeks flushing just a little.
As the boys left, Shya let her polished smile relax into something more real, a look of shared conspiracy for Talora's eyes only. "A study date, Bob?"
"Oh, shut up," Talora laughed, bumping her with her shoulder. But she was grinning. The first day of Potions was over, and the foundations of something new had been laid.