With Professor Snape's increasingly patient explanations, Dylan cleared up many of the doubts he'd had about Potions.
By the time he finished his round of questions,
his potion was done as well.
Snape looked it over, was silent for a long moment, then finally forced out:
"Not bad. Five points to Gryffindor, in honor of the fact that not all lions are complete idiots."
With that, Professor Snape could not find a single flaw to pick in Dylan's potion.
All he could do was let his robes billow as he stalked off in search of another victim.
He ended up circling around and stopping at Harry's side.
"What are you brewing, a vomit-inducing poison soup? Pathetic. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Neville was sitting next to Dylan.
He whispered, "Professor Snape really seems to have it in for Harry. Those points you just earned got wiped out in one go."
Dylan kept his eyes on his cauldron, already moving on to the next potion.
"Don't worry about it. Teachers who are actually competent are always strict."
Neville blinked a few times.
He felt Dylan had a point.
But even so…
Wasn't this a little too strict?
This was nothing like Professor McGonagall's severity. It was not even in the same league.
And where McGonagall was strict with everyone equally, Snape seemed to be targeting Harry—
or rather, all of Gryffindor.
Neville sneaked a glance at Dylan, who was calmly and seriously tending his cauldron.
A thought surfaced in his mind—
Dylan is seriously strong.
He could stay completely unfazed in front of Snape's terrifying cold glare,
and even manage to finish his first potion perfectly under that stare.
"No, I've got to work harder too!"
Thanks to his solid grasp of Herbology, Neville actually did reasonably well in Potions.
Dylan, meanwhile, kept trying to make his technique ever more precise.
He practically forgot to eat or drink for the entire class.
Even if Snape was across the room,
he would just shout him over.
"Professor! I've got a question here!"
"Professor!! Could you come take a look?"
"Professor! Professor!! Prooofessor!!!"
Snape: "…"
He gained a new appreciation for Dylan's enthusiasm.
But he did not feel any particular annoyance at being called over again and again.
On the contrary, whenever Dylan asked something, Snape would think it over seriously and answer with care.
With Snape's help, Dylan improved at a breathtaking pace.
At first, his potions still had minor issues—imperfect color, weaker effects, and so on.
But as time went on, his brews became increasingly flawless.
This shocked students from both Houses.
Gryffindors were stunned anyone could pick up potion-making that fast.
Slytherins were stunned anyone would dare to call Snape over like that…
In truth, Dylan could not care less what the professors thought of him.
He was a sponge, endlessly soaking up whatever knowledge others possessed.
It was not just a matter of his own naturally driven personality; Dylan knew how precious magical education really was.
Across England, the USA, Europe, and the East…
Magical education systems were a mess, and resources were brutally scarce.
Hogwarts, by contrast, had some of the strongest faculty in the entire wizarding world.
Almost every class was taught by someone with a big name.
Except, of course…
The ever-rotating Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.
Even Sybill Trelawney, for all the jokes people made about her,
was still one of the foremost practitioners of Divination.
After all, she was a true Seer.
Harry's status as the Chosen One had come from one of her prophecies and shaped the entire story.
So there was even less need to mention Professor Snape.
Potion Master. Head of Slytherin.
Compared to what he had accomplished, his age almost seemed too low.
When he called others idiots, it was because he genuinely was a genius.
As for Snape's poisonous tongue, Dylan only had one reaction—
Bring it on. He wanted even more.
By the time the day's classes drew to a close,
Dylan had laid out all the potions he'd brewed in front of Snape.
Snape tried to find some flaw to point out, but each vial in front of him was better than the last.
He had to purse his lips and mutter, "Better than the other dunderheads, at least."
Dylan did not mind at all.
It was not as if Snape was insulting his entire family line by name.
Words like "idiot" or "fool" barely scratched the surface. He felt nothing—and even found Snape a bit endearing.
Tilting his chin up, Dylan said, "I'm glad my work meets your standards, Professor."
"Your skill is remarkable. A few words from you can clear up my biggest questions, so…"
As he spoke, every student nearby turned to stare at him, eyes wide. They all seemed to know exactly what was coming next.
Sure enough, Dylan smiled, revealing his small, sharp canine teeth.
"Professor, would it be possible for me to come to you with questions when you're free?"
Hiss.
He was insane.
The students around him all swallowed hard.
Even the Slytherins could not help thinking Dylan was completely mad.
Snape might not target Slytherins the way he did Gryffindors,
but when a Slytherin did something wrong, he still scolded them without mercy.
So watching Dylan do this now looked, in their eyes, exactly like getting up in the middle of the night to imitate a rooster—utterly deranged.
Snape frowned, his face dark, eyes fixed on the boy in front of him.
Dylan, however, acted as if he did not notice at all, staring up at Snape's hooked nose without blinking.
At last, it was as though Snape admitted defeat. He spoke slowly.
"In light of the fact that you produced perfect potions…"
"If the questions you bring me are worthless, I will throw you out of my office at once."
"Of course. That's only right."
Having secured Snape's agreement, Dylan smiled so broadly his eyes turned to slits.
"Merlin above…"
When class ended,
Ron and Harry both walked over, staring at Dylan.
"Sorry. I always thought you really belonged in Ravenclaw," Ron said suddenly.
Dylan looked a little puzzled.
"But now I see the Hat didn't make a mistake after all…"
"You're a true Gryffindor!"
Neville and Harry nodded hard.
(End of Chapter)
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