Sunlight spilled across Hogwarts' ancient castle. Hermione looked helplessly at the lesson plan Snape had given her and at the list of potion ingredients she held in her hand. No one could have predicted what happened today.
It was nothing short of magical.
It was so absurd that she would never have imagined it even in her dreams.
Hermione had never thought that she would have the honor of becoming a Hogwarts professor.
And while she was still a first-year student.
Of course, not under her own identity.
Today was the day she had to substitute for Professor Snape's Potions class. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she gritted her teeth and disguised herself as Snape.
Hermione practically fled from Professor Lockhart's presence because she had done something that violated Snape's "persona." It was mostly because her usual habit of respecting teachers had kicked in too strongly.
"Dreadful!"
Hermione slipped away at lightning speed.
She thought that as long as Lockhart didn't react in time, she hadn't exposed her little slip, which was admittedly a childish idea, but she was just an eleven-year-old first-year student.
Eleven years old.
A "little grown-up" was still, first and foremost, little. Because of this, she didn't hear Lockhart's final whisper and had no idea that her tiny mistake had already given her away.
Of course...
In this universe, the identity of "Lockhart" was itself a disguise. Aurora, who was using the Lockhart appearance in place of her grandfather, was no better.
She had no intention of exposing Hermione, either.
Thus, Hermione escaped disaster.
"Next are the first-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs."
Not having to teach her own classmates felt like a stroke of good fortune for Hermione.
Since the school year had only just begun, Snape's terrifying reputation had only just begun to show itself in these two houses. The students in the class chattered like a flock of sparrows, full of curiosity and unease.
"Quiet!" Hermione shouted, trying to lower her voice, but with little effect. She took a deep breath, remembered Snape's usual demeanor, and slammed the teacher's desk.
"Looks like someone wants to be boiled into potions!"
She had stolen this line from Ron's ideas, but it worked brilliantly on first-year students. Panic swept through the room, and the classroom instantly fell silent.
"Today, we're learning a potion so simple that even a pig could master it." As she spoke, Hermione wrote the brewing steps on the blackboard. The sound of chalk scraping across the board echoed loudly in the silent room.
Clearly, a first-year class posed no difficulty to the young witch. This was her domain, and her confidence blossomed instantly. She explained each step in detail, her voice firm and assured.
She even walked down from the teacher's desk to correct her students' mistakes.
One witch accidentally spilled powder outside the cauldron. Hermione immediately stepped forward.
"This is dangerous. One slip and it could explode. Remember, potion-making requires focus and precision."
She truly looked like a potions professor.
Of course, this is only possible when facing first years. But when the first-year class ended and she had to teach the upper years, Hermione instantly became nervous again.
"Fifth year!"
Hermione Granger had barely rested before the next class. She took a deep breath. Teaching older students naturally made the young witch far more anxious.
These weren't first, second, third, or fourth years... they were fifth years, students nearing their OWL exams. In her mind, they were basically "higher ranked"-level experts.
Of course, she didn't know what a higher rank was, but she knew that even the weakest student in the class knew more than she did. Naturally, her heart felt unsteady again.
After all, the fifth year was the preparation year for the Ordinary Wizarding Level (O.W.L.) exams, so the focus of the classes was on combining practical skills with theoretical understanding.
This was extremely important for students.
Hermione feared it would influence their future.
And, of course, she feared being exposed.
"I am Snape, I am Snape, I am Snape..."
Hermione was fully aware of the meaning of self-hypnosis and psychological preparation.
She looked down at the heavy, oversized black robes she wore and touched her face and greasy black hair... the symbols of her identity as Professor Snape.
Snape's hair was even worse than she expected. Still, in Hermione's view, it was proof that she wouldn't be suspected. She looked exactly like Snape.
Even the grease level seemed like a perfect replica.
To be fair, Snape had actually started using the shampoo Ian gave him. However, the past few hectic days had returned his hair to its original state.
This was unfortunate for the tidy little witch now stuck in his form.
However, there was nothing she could do.
She could only force herself to endure the discomfort of feeling unclean and get into character. While class had not yet begun, she hid in the shadowed corner of the corridor and began to use her greatest strength: rote memorization.
The Polyjuice Potion allowed her to temporarily possess Snape's appearance but certainly did not grant her his talent for potions. Hermione had read about the potion in the library long before she ever drank it.
And now, she had personally experienced what it felt like to become someone else. Not just anyone, but an adult. Honestly, the experience was far less pleasant than she had imagined.
Her much higher field of vision made her feel slightly off-balance. After adjusting twice, however, she managed to conceal any flaws. In fact, the change was so convincing that Professor McGonagall, whom she encountered, thought she was actually sick.
Professor McGonagall showed her concern, Hermione could barely describe how nervous she was.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall did not become suspicious. After all, Snape often hid in the shadows perfectly well. The only difference was that their reasons for doing so were wildly different.
Hermione sighed, pushed open the door, and entered.
"Today we will study the Are Alive Vitalizing Tonic." She muttered under her breath, flipping open the notebook in her hand and forcing her tone to sound cold and stern. "Turn your textbooks to page 89."
She had acted twice already and was getting into the groove.
But the upper-year students still froze.
They looked up at the unusually silent Professor Snape, exchanging glances.
"Why is he so quiet today?"
"He didn't insult anyone. It must mean one of his new potion experiments finally worked."
"Yeah, by now he would've usually hurled his routine insult at me."
…
It had to be said that the upperclassmen understood Snape far better than the first-years did.
Uneasy murmurs filled the air.
Hermione ignored the whispers, reading mechanically from the notes in the book.
She knew that, although she was intelligent, she was not a Potions Master. With younger students, she could barely manage with her own knowledge.
But once the class shifted to the upper years, things became difficult. Fortunately, fifth-year students were diligent because of exams. They only ran into trouble when they started practicing potion refining.
Originally, Hermione was deeply anxious.
She had no idea how to guide these senior students.
However...
She soon realized that Snape had predicted this a long time ago. The notebook he gave her was not just a lesson plan; it was a comprehensive teaching system.
Every page and line anticipated student questions, mistakes, and even the tiniest errors, and included correction methods.
For every fifth-year student, the notebook practically foretold the mistakes they would make and how to guide them. Hermione was utterly stunned.
She continued teaching, from third year to repeat-year students to seventh year. No matter how difficult the problem, she only needed to open the notebook to find the answer.
As class after class progressed, Hermione realized that Snape's strength was far beyond her imagination. Regardless of the year or student, every problem they might encounter during potion refining had been meticulously recorded.
Even details like which student's hands shook or which student added extra ingredients behind Snape's back were noted.
Yes...
Not just theory, but also experimental steps, common mistakes, and students' names and their habitual errors.
"Patch will chop the Mandrake root too thick today."
"Weasley's cauldron will emit purple smoke at step three."
"Ireland will forget the stirring direction and ruin the potion."
"These two explosion-loving maniacs should just be thrown out."
…
Yes.
It was a prediction down to every last detail.
Hermione could hardly believe her eyes. She finally understood why Snape could instantly tell who had made a mistake, even without looking at their cauldron.
He already knew they would make those mistakes!
Hermione gained a new understanding of her Potions professor. Looking at the heavy notebook in her hands, she felt respect for Snape for the first time.
What is a Potions Master?
This is.
Hermione also realized the true significance of being a Hogwarts professor.
Being a professor meant more than just transmitting knowledge; it meant understanding every student, predicting their behavior, and preparing solutions ahead of time. Such mastery was almost magical in its own right.
"This is truly amazing!"
When the day's classes finally ended, Hermione closed her notebook, exhausted, and rubbed her temples.
Her throat was hoarse from imitating Snape's deep voice, and her feet ached from standing all day.
She suddenly realized that she had only ever seen Snape's strict side and had never considered the effort and perception hidden beneath his harsh exterior.
In fact, every professor was like this. A professor had to handle seven grade levels and four different house classes—far busier than any student could imagine.
One or two days might be fine.
But doing it day after day was truly admirable.
"As expected, you only understand how exhausting teaching is once you experience it yourself." Hermione dragged her feet toward the office, thinking about the students' expressions earlier.
"Thank goodness Ron and Neville didn't come cause trouble this afternoon," she muttered with relief. "Otherwise, I really wouldn't have known how to end the class."
She was really lucky... Ron and Neville hadn't bothered her or caused any trouble, which surprised her. She had initially thought they would set her back.
"Looks like they understood the hint I gave them." Hermione was just beginning to regard her two friends in a new light when...
Until she opened the door and froze.
Inside, Snape was upside down and pointing a wand at two people tied up like dumplings... Ron and Neville. Yes, the two boys had literally carried out their plan and infiltrated Snape's office.
Except...
They hadn't managed to save Hermione. But they did discover the truth. Since they had discovered the truth, they naturally missed an entire day of classes. Would Snape allow two big-mouthed Gryffindor students, with bigger mouths than Hermione—who learned of his condition to walk out freely?
Of course not.
He immediately gave the two boys a full "binding experience."
As "compensation" for their curiosity, Ron and Neville were tied up with smelly socks stuffed in their mouths. And yes, those were absolutely Snape's socks.
Of course.
They were transfigured.
The stench came from Transfiguration magic.
There were no bacteria, but they were definitely not clean or hygienic. Snape clearly intended to teach the two boys a lesson. The stench was so overwhelming that even Hermione hesitated to approach her friends.
Friends are precious.
But keeping her own hands clean was even more important.
"How are they here!?"
Hermione stared at her two friends, who were wriggling helplessly like fish dragged onto land. She didn't quite dare to move closer.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that question, Miss Hermione Granger?" The real Snape was still suspended from the ceiling of his office, his voice cold as ice.
"These two idiots picked the lock and came in. They don't even know the Unlocking Charm. Can't you manage your own friends?" Snape was disgusted by Neville and Ron.
They were practically the quintessential representatives of Gryffindor foolishness.
"They have too much curiosity."
Hermione felt embarrassed. She knew her acting had been poor and that her two friends had failed to interpret her hints. This had resulted in the awkward scene before her.
"This is why Gryffindors die early. I hope you're at least a smart Gryffindor who knows how to keep her mouth shut. You didn't reveal anything, did you?"
Snape sneered.
Danger flickered in his dark eyes.
"Of course not!" Hermione replied quickly.
"Good. This is the antidote." Snape floated a small candy toward her.
Suspecting nothing, she immediately swallowed it.
"So I won't turn into a toad now, right?" She breathed a sigh of relief.
"For the moment, no." Snape lied without blinking.
At that moment—
Hermione was just about to ask how Snape planned to deal with her two friends when—
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" Both Snape and Hermione tensed instantly.
"It's me, Professor Snape. I wanted to discuss some interesting questions with you."
It was Lockhart's unmistakable voice: cheerful yet deeply unsettling.
At least for Hermione.
She instantly remembered the slip-up she had made earlier that afternoon.
(End of Chapter)
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