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Chapter 217 — The Classroom Is About to Explode!!
Potions classes were held in underground rooms.
As always, rows of crucibles simmered on the long stone tables.
In the middle of each setup sat a brass balance—something Harry would probably call a measuring scale for potion ingredients.
Around the crucibles lay neatly stacked piles of potion supplies.
Today, they were brewing Swelling Solution.
Darren was tending to his cauldron while secretly glancing at Harry and the others.
The three looked extremely nervous. Snape had already noticed something was off, but Darren—the little holy saint—shouldn't be having such thoughts. So he pretended not to see anything.
Besides, he already knew exactly what the trio planned.
Just like in the original timeline, they were clearly here to steal something from Snape's stores.
"Don't look!"
Cassandra shot him a sharp glare.
Always staring at Hermione—she had no idea why. With her frizzy hair and oversized front teeth, Cassandra didn't think Hermione had anything attractive to stare at.
"I'm sorry…"
[Ding, Father +20]
Darren assumed Cassandra was simply too tense and apologized.
But she only grew angrier—though this time she wasn't directing it at him. She was sulking.
He didn't understand it at all.
He withdrew his gaze and focused on his brewing.
The Swelling Solution turned out perfectly—a translucent, beautiful potion when bottled.
"Professor, I'm done."
Darren handed in both his and Cassandra's potion.
Snape's lips tightened.
He couldn't believe he had been reduced to this—never again did the boy smile at him with trust, never again did he greet him warmly as "Professor."
Now Darren acted like a perfect Slytherin.
Polite. Controlled. Indifferent.
Snape could find no fault, and it infuriated him.
He didn't even know why he was so angry anymore.
Maybe the rest of the students were just too incompetent.
Compared to Darren's and Potter's entries, the others' work was nothing short of a disaster.
Storming around the classroom, he exploded at whomever he saw.
"Miss Compeis! If your brain is still in your skull, you should know the herbs go in two seconds later—put it now! Are you an idiot?"
"Mr. Finnegan, did I ask you to add that ingredient? Are you blind?"
"Longbottom! Blow up your cauldron one more time and I'll toss your toad in with it!"
"Mr. Fidillon, what are you even doing? Why not put your troll-like brain in the cauldron and boil that instead? Empty it. Redo!"
With a single sweep of his wand, half the class had their cauldrons emptied.
All their effort gone.
Harry hid as far back as he could. His Swelling Solution was too thin—he had been distracted. Ron blocked him from Snape's line of sight.
But Snape still walked straight toward him.
"Hmm. What did I say? One ounce. One. Ounce. How much did you add? Redo."
Snape flicked his wand, vanishing the potion.
Harry groaned inwardly and started again.
He had barely added water when Snape turned back.
"Who told you to add that much water? Trolls would pity your brain! Redo!"
Harry's fists clenched.
Everyone started with too much water and then scooped extra out—Snape himself lectured them on the technique. Now he was scolding him for following instructions.
"Bear with it. Think about what you have to do after class."
Ron nudged him firmly.
Harry inhaled deeply, swallowing the urge to talk back.
He continued brewing. When he finally reached the last stage—just moments before he could finish—Snape returned again.
"Potter. Failed. Redo."
Another sweep. Another vanished cauldron.
"Some students are simply too stupid for Potions. I may recommend to Dumbledore that such students be removed from the subject."
Everyone knew who he meant.
"Pffff—"
"Hahaha!"
"Serves him right!"
Crabbe and Goyle howled. Malfoy made a face at Harry.
Seeing Darren watching with concern, Harry shook his head quickly.
If Darren intervened, Snape would get even worse.
He would deduct points until Gryffindor was bankrupt.
Endure.
Endure.
Finally, Harry saw an opening.
When Snape turned, Harry slipped one of Fred's firebombs into Goyle's cauldron.
Let it explode.
Darren, reading at his desk, heard the boom.
[Ding, a Holy Father scene detected. Temporary mission: block Snape's right side. Get cut on the face by flying debris and urgently shout: "Professor, be careful!" Reward: Potions Talent +2. Accept?]
[Accept]
He turned.
Goyle's cauldron had erupted—Swelling Solution spraying like a fountain.
The potion splattered over Goyle's arm, which inflated into a balloon-like limb that smacked into Snape's back.
Darren immediately moved in front of Snape.
A sharp fragment slashed across his cheek.
He didn't react at all.
"Professor, be careful!"
[Ding, mission complete. Potions Talent +2 obtained.]
Before Darren could draw his wand to contain the cauldron, Snape roared:
"Protego!"
The shield charm blocked the airborne cauldron, which clattered uselessly to the floor.
But the potion spray continued.
A large splash struck Snape's palm.
He tried to counter it, but the spell was messy—removing the swelling, but leaving a small cut.
He ignored the injury.
His focus was entirely on Darren.
"Potter! Are you insane? Using your face to block a cauldron—why don't you use your entire hea—"
He stopped mid-roar.
Those guilty, worried eyes staring up at him…
The anger dissolved.
This child… had tried to save him?
Why?
Didn't he hate him?
Hadn't he decided to keep distance and remain cold?
Then why save him?
Was it just Darren's instinctive kindness again? Was Snape imagining the distance?
His chest tightened with something close to resentment—resentment at himself for reacting like this.
He looked down at his injured palm.
Strangely, the blood on his own hand resonated faintly with the blood on Darren's cheek.
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