Time passed in the blink of an eye.
More than a month had gone by since the thrilling first round of the Quidditch match, and now it was mid-to-late December. Hogwarts had fully entered winter, with thick layers of snow blanketing everything.
Lewis had already made plans. During the Christmas holiday, he would head to Diagon Alley to sell the miscellaneous items he had repaired over this period. At the same time, he intended to find a way to acquire the main ingredients for permanent attribute potions—at the very least, he needed to figure out how to obtain them.
Because of this, he had recently developed a strong interest in Potions. He was even trying to combine Muggle chemistry with potion-making, and the results had been quite rewarding.
Unlike him, as Christmas approached, most young wizards had no interest in studying at all. They were eagerly looking forward to the holiday.
The lake had frozen solid. Though the common rooms and the Great Hall were kept warm by roaring fires, the corridors were bitterly cold with drafts cutting through them, and the windows in the classrooms rattled under the icy wind.
The worst part for students was that Professor Snape's classes were held in the dungeon.
The underground chill combined with winter's cold made it even more unbearable.
During lessons, their breath would turn into visible white mist. The only option was to huddle closer to the steaming cauldrons for warmth.
Because of his research into potions, Lewis was actually quite enthusiastic about the subject.
But that didn't earn him any kindness from the "old bat."
Even though he was the first to complete the assigned potion, Snape still harshly criticized him.
"Finishing first does not mean you've done well, Mr. Green. Your brewing of the Wiggenweld Potion took far too long. If you were any slower, your patient's wounds would have healed on their own!"
With a dark expression, Snape took a sip of the potion and immediately began criticizing again.
"The taste is far too strong. That means your dittany extract contains too many impurities. Perhaps you should crush the leaves thoroughly before extracting the juice through gauze. As it stands, I can only suggest adding some licorice to neutralize the flavor—otherwise even a troll wouldn't want to drink your potion."
Watching Lewis get thoroughly scolded, Steve couldn't hold back.
"That old bat is definitely targeting you! Does he even realize who brews potions on the spot when they're injured?!"
"Call him Professor Snape, Steve," Lewis replied calmly. "His words may be harsh, but he's actually teaching us techniques that aren't in the textbooks."
"But… you were the first to finish, and you did so well, yet he didn't even give Ravenclaw any points," Steve said, still dissatisfied.
"We came to Hogwarts to learn knowledge. Points are just a byproduct."
As he spoke, Lewis waved his wand, finely chopping a batch of dittany leaves before squeezing them through gauze.
The resulting liquid was indeed much clearer. Not only were the impurities gone, but the pungent smell had also been significantly reduced.
This immediately reminded Lewis of the Half-Blood Prince's Potions textbook from the original story.
The so-called Half-Blood Prince was none other than Snape himself.
He had filled his old textbook with notes and annotations, detailing alternative brewing methods that differed from standard instructions.
When Harry followed those notes, his performance in Potions improved dramatically.
This proved that Snape had been a potions master since his student days. His unique techniques were undeniably effective.
And just now, Snape had been trying to teach Lewis those very techniques—just wrapped in sarcasm.
There was no helping it. The old bat was a classic tsundere.
Just like how he treated Harry—on one hand, because of Lily, he stayed at Hogwarts as a professor, enduring misunderstandings again and again just to protect him.
On the other hand, because of James Potter, he couldn't stand Harry, constantly mocking him even when he knew it would deepen the misunderstanding.
As a result, until the very end, Harry saw him as nothing but a villain.
Only after Snape died in front of him did Harry finally understand his true feelings.
It could only be said—tsundere was outdated.
Because he understood Snape, Lewis could remain unfazed by his harsh words.
Despite his stubbornness and bias, Snape did appreciate good students.
It was obvious—while his mouth was sharp, his actions told a different story. He often gave Lewis extra guidance, subtly sharing his personal techniques.
In fact, while Steve kept complaining on Lewis's behalf, the Slytherins—who truly understood their Head of House—found his treatment of Lewis almost unbelievable.
They had noticed that although Snape frequently criticized Lewis, he had never actually targeted him unfairly, nor had he deducted points from him again.
They could tell the difference.
Snape's criticism of Lewis Green was fundamentally different from how he treated Harry Potter.
And just as favor and kindness are finite, so too is disdain.
Snape's preferential treatment of Lewis meant that weaker students like Harry suffered even more.
As the saying goes, one can endure darkness—until they've seen the light.
With Lewis as the benchmark, those underperforming students became even more intolerable in Snape's eyes.
Harry, Ron, Neville, and even the explosion-prone Seamus Finnigan all dreaded Potions class more than ever—especially when Snape made them stay behind again and again, forcing them to repeat their brewing until they got it right.
Of course, aside from Potions, Lewis continued to excel in every other subject.
Even before the school year had reached its halfway point, everyone was convinced that the top rank in the final exams would undoubtedly belong to him.
Second place, naturally, would go to Miss Know-It-All, Hermione.
Although she had become Lewis's apprentice, that didn't stop her from trying to catch up to him academically.
Ever since the troll incident, their relationship had grown much closer.
Aside from their after-class magic lessons, Hermione would occasionally consult Lewis about other matters—
Including, but not limited to, the unfair treatment she faced in Gryffindor due to her academic excellence, and just how "ridiculously foolish" her two male friends were.
She even asked him about certain personal and physiological issues.
This made Lewis feel the weight of responsibility.
He wasn't just her opposite-sex confidant—he had practically become her best girlfriend as well.
Lewis had no doubt that in a few years, once Hermione matured and experienced her first crush, she would desperately want to strangle her younger self.
It was just before the Christmas feast when Lewis was on his way to the Great Hall and was suddenly called out.
"Lewis! Lewis! Over here!"
Hearing Hermione's voice near a pine tree in the corridor, Lewis turned his head.
There, under a holly tree, Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Hagrid were gathered, seemingly arguing about something.
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