"So then, we..."
"Well, we are all Slytherins in the end, and we're roommates too. I don't think we need to be that afraid of him..."
"Exactly. I heard some of the Gryffindors saying that Altair is a very elegant gentleman. Even Professor McGonagall likes him a lot."
Goyle and Crabbe spoke one after another. Malfoy wanted to say that Altair was only a Muggle-born wizard, but he was afraid Altair might somehow find out, so in the end he kept his mouth shut.
"Forget it. We should go to sleep too. At least one thing he said was right. Tomorrow's Potions class is with Professor Snape."
Malfoy and the other two tidied themselves up and got ready for bed.
Although they were still afraid of Altair, they were no longer as frightened out of their wits as before.
The next morning, after Altair got up, the three of them even cautiously greeted him.
Altair answered with a smile.
His rule had always been simple. If others did not provoke him, he would not provoke them. Besides, they were only three eleven-year-old wizards. Teaching them a lesson was just meant to save trouble later.
This morning, there was a Potions class, shared by Gryffindor and Slytherin. After breakfast, Altair and Hermione left the Great Hall together.
By now, the other young witches and wizards were already used to seeing the two of them together, and many of the first-years even thought they were dating.
Hermione did not bother explaining those rumors.
Altair was even less interested in explaining them.
He was used to being on his own, but having a little shadow tagging along behind him was not so bad either, especially when that shadow happened to be Hermione.
The Potions classroom was down in the Hogwarts dungeons.
The entire room was cold and gloomy, with dim lighting. On the shelves lining both sides of the classroom stood bottle after bottle of strange liquids, each one containing something unsettling to look at.
That sort of dark and eerie atmosphere made people tense without even realizing it. Added to that were the constant stories about Professor Snape's strange temper, which only made the young students even more uneasy.
Around ten minutes before class began, all the students had already arrived. Even though Snape was not there yet, nobody dared speak loudly.
Even Hermione was affected by the mood, lowering her voice without thinking whenever she spoke to Altair.
When class began, Snape entered the room exactly on time.
He wore a black robe, his face expressionless, his dark eyes full of cold detachment.
After surveying all the young witches and wizards in the room, Snape took out a register and began calling the roll. When he reached Harry Potter's name, he paused. His eyes fixed on Harry Potter with a chill that made it seem as if he were looking at a dead man.
Altair found it rather fascinating.
Snape clearly cared deeply about Harry, yet he was able to hide it so perfectly. No wonder Harry had always taken him for a villain.
After finishing the roll, Snape began his opening speech.
"In this class, you will learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. 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..."
"However, for those select few, those who possess the proper disposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even... stopper death."
Snape's voice rose and fell with deliberate force, and the young students below him sat in complete silence.
A smile curved across Malfoy's mouth. He assumed Snape was talking about him. But when he looked more carefully, he found that Snape's gaze had fallen on Altair instead.
On the other side, Harry was busily taking notes, carefully writing down Snape's dramatic speech.
Snape's eyes shifted from Altair to Harry. He fell silent, stepped forward, and suddenly asked,
"Mr. Potter. Our new celebrity."
Snape's voice was softer now, almost like a murmur. He stared at Harry, or rather, at Harry's eyes. He was silent for several seconds before asking,
"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry, pinned beneath Snape's gaze, felt his face burning. He shook his head, then slowly lowered it.
He did not know the answer.
Beside Altair, Hermione's hand shot into the air so fast that she nearly smacked him in the face.
"You don't know? Let us try again, then. Where would you look if I told you to find me a Bezoar?"
Harry kept his head down and shook it again. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to escape this terrifying classroom.
He could feel the cold, pitying stare in Snape's eyes as he looked at him. He could feel Malfoy's mocking contempt from nearby.
Hermione continued waving her hand high in the air, her face full of excited urgency. From the way she was trying so hard, it seemed she was only a breath away from leaping to her feet and announcing to the entire room that she knew the answer.
Unfortunately, Snape did not so much as glance at her.
"Then, what is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Snape continued.
Hearing the question, Hermione stretched her arm even higher. Harry glanced at her, pressed his lips together, and then said,
"I don't know, sir."
Hermione looked at Harry in helpless disbelief, as though she could not understand how anyone could fail to answer something so simple. Then she turned to look at Altair, her eyes full of grievance.
It was obvious that she was protesting to Altair over Snape's refusal to call on her.
The corner of Altair's mouth twitched.
The way Hermione looked right now was, frankly, rather adorable.