Justin and Ernie arrived late, and the moment they stepped into the classroom, Snape's gaze froze them in place.
"Mr. Finch-Fletchley, Mr. Macmillan—you are late. Hufflepuff loses twenty points. I trust this will help you remember in the future."
Snape's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Now sit down, unless you'd like me to deduct more."
Losing twenty points right at the start was a heavy blow, even for Hufflepuffs, who usually weren't overly concerned about House points.
Justin and Ernie sat at the last empty long table, their expressions dark, saying nothing. Every Hogwarts student knew better than to argue with the Head of Slytherin. He wasn't interested in reason—only in deducting points.
"Since Hufflepuff students are late, let's have a Hufflepuff answer a question."
Snape's eyes locked onto Leonard.
"Mr. Leonard, what is the function of a bezoar? And where can it be found?"
"Bezoars cure poisoning. They're taken from a goat's stomach," Leonard replied.
"Your answer lacked courtesy. You should have addressed me as 'Professor' first. Hufflepuff loses five points," Snape said flatly.
The classroom fell silent. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students stared at him in disbelief.
Was he serious?
Leonard's tone didn't waver. "Yes, Professor."
He held Snape's gaze. Snape, long accustomed to reading thoughts through others' eyes, remembered an earlier moment and turned his own away instinctively. Which only made him angrier.
"What is the use of Murtlap Essence?"
"To treat cuts, Professor."
"What are the main ingredients of a Wiggenweld Potion?"
"Dittany, Horklump juice, Professor."
Leonard answered steadily, never breaking eye contact, forcing Snape to look away again and again. Each answer ended with a deliberate "Professor."
Snape grew more and more irritable.
"Daisy roots, peeled shrivelfig, caterpillar, a drop of leech juice, rat spleen. If I combined these, what potion could I produce?"
Now he had dropped all pretense, asking questions beyond the syllabus—things the book never covered.
Leonard paused. "Professor, that isn't in the textbook."
"Oh? Just because it's not in the textbook, you shouldn't know it?" Snape sneered. "With that know-it-all look of yours, couldn't you have bothered to study more? Since you can't answer, Hufflepuff loses—"
"My apologies, Professor. I only said it wasn't in the textbook, not that I didn't know." Leonard smiled faintly. "That's the formula for the Shrinking Solution, Professor."
He emphasized the final "Professor," drawing out each syllable. Then he added, "As for your claim that 'if it's not in the books, we shouldn't know it'...
"If we knew everything, what would we need you for? And, Professor, why won't you meet my eyes? Are you afraid?"
The classroom was deathly silent. Every Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stared at Leonard with a mix of shock and admiration.
No one had ever dared talk back to Snape like this. Leonard was the first.
Snape's lips trembled with rage, but still he refused to meet Leonard's eyes.
"Hufflepuff loses fifty points!" he spat, then turned sharply toward the podium. "Everyone, open your books to page one. Let's see how to brew a Cure for Boils."
Leonard gave a short, derisive laugh, sat down, and opened his book.
As long as he didn't care about House points, Snape was nothing more than a paper tiger. No matter how fierce he acted, it was meaningless.
And if he ever dared to get physical, Leonard would show him what it meant to take a full strike from a magic-immune warrior.
...
A week slipped by quietly.
At Hogwarts, most subjects were taught once a week—not for the students' sake, but for the professors. Each year required two sessions of the same class, and with seven year groups in total, that meant fourteen lessons per week for each professor.
Just adding one more subject would mean fourteen extra classes—a nightmare for them.
For the students, it wasn't exactly easy either.
There were seven required core subjects. Excluding weekends, that meant classes nearly every day, leaving no chance for a completely free day. And after class, professors always assigned homework. Some were demanding magical exercises, like Transfiguration assignments.
Most others required essays.
For example, first-year History of Magic covered medieval witch burnings, and the essay topic was naturally tied to that.
Since today was Saturday, Leonard, who had built up quite a pile of homework, decided to head to the library to clear it out.
During the week, whenever he had spare time, he went to the botanical garden in the Forbidden Forest. The round trip alone took over an hour, and with the extra time needed to tend his plants, there was no way to finish assignments daily.
Leaving them for Saturday was his only option.
He wasn't the only one. Many students did the same, so when Leonard arrived at the library, he found there wasn't a single empty seat.
But he did spot some familiar faces.
Harry was there with his friends.
Not Ron Weasley, though—it was Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger.
Neville and Harry were scribbling away furiously, while Hermione, perfectly at ease, was flipping through a book so massive it looked intimidating.
Leonard didn't hesitate and walked over.
Hearing footsteps, Harry and Neville lifted their heads from their essays. Harry's face lit up in surprise.
"Leonard? You're here to do homework too?"
"Yeah. I've been practicing magic lately, so I haven't had time for homework." Leonard put a finger to his lips. "Keep it down. I heard the librarian throws out noisy people."
Hermione, catching his name, glanced over with a scrutinizing look. "How have you been? I heard you fought a Slytherin student."
"It couldn't be helped. If I didn't want to get hit, I had to hit back." Leonard sat down and spread his hands.
"Forget about those downers. Slytherin students are just as disgusting as their professor." Harry pulled a face before asking, "So, Leonard, how much homework do you have left?"
"Uh..." Leonard glanced at the thick stack of parchment in his hands. "All of it."