"What's wrong, Professor? Is there something wrong with the Potion I brewed?"
Before Snape could even begin to comprehend how Tom had managed to brew such a perfect Potion—his first attempt, no less—he was interrupted by the young wizard's question.
Snape stared at him in silence. After a long pause, he finally muttered through clenched teeth:
"Lo… Student Tom's Potion is very successful. Moreover, the quality… is exceptionally high."
He met Tom's gaze briefly, then quickly looked away.
"Considering you achieved such excellent results on your first attempt… Hufflepuff… five points."
His tone was stiff, reluctant. Under normal circumstances, Snape would never award points to another house, especially not Hufflepuff. But there was no denying it—Tom had literally held a lifeline in his hands.
"Wait… did the Professor just give points to Hufflepuff?!" whispered one of the Hufflepuffs.
"This is incredible! I've never seen Snape give points to a wizard from another house before," another exclaimed, eyes wide.
The classroom buzzed with whispers. Snape's face darkened as the noise grew.
"Enough! What is all this noise?"
He swept the room with his sharp gaze.
"Have you all finished brewing your Potions? What are you shouting about? Three points from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw each! Furthermore, if you fail to produce a Potion that satisfies me by the end of class, you will remain behind to clean the classroom!"
The roar was enough to silence everyone instantly. The little badgers and eagles returned to their cauldrons, focusing on their brewing.
Of course, none of them dared to replicate Tom's method. They had watched him put all the raw ingredients into the cauldron at once and start stirring as if chaos itself would yield perfection. Yet somehow, he had succeeded. The steps were clearly wrong, yet the result was flawless.
It wasn't magic—it was genius.
The little eagles, clever as they were, didn't even attempt to imitate him. As for the Hufflepuffs, they would simply follow Snape's instructions, leaving him a secret sigh of relief. If it had been Gryffindor in this situation, Snape would have spent the rest of the class running after reckless students or nursing burns from melted cauldrons.
Satisfied, Snape resumed patrolling the classroom. This time, he seemed slightly distracted, even forgiving mistakes from those near him. The eagles who had faltered but avoided reprimand looked at Tom with quiet gratitude—they knew it was because of him.
As more eyes turned toward him, Tom grew increasingly uncomfortable. Finally, unable to endure the attention, he wrapped himself in a piece of cloth and slumped onto the table like an ostrich hiding its head.
Snape noticed but, thinking of Tom's flawless Potion and recalling Dumbledore's words about Tom's unique ability to bring souls back from the afterlife, he allowed it.
Geniuses, Snape knew, had privileges—even if they acted like cats in class.
That said, Snape wasn't about to let others slack off. He gave a cold snort at those who were daydreaming or distracted and let them silently learn a lesson.
By the end of the lesson, most Potions outside of Hufflepuff and a few Ravenclaws were deemed failures. Students who had been staring at Tom were lucky—they hadn't destroyed their cauldrons or ended up in the hospital.
With the class over, it was clear that Tom's name would soon be known across Hogwarts. He was the first in years to openly challenge Snape's authority and emerge unscathed, even earning points in the process. Snape's subtle change in teaching style was noticeable—everyone would attribute it to Tom.
As Tom prepared to leave, Snape suddenly appeared before him:
"Tom, come to my office."
No explanation, no hesitation—just the command, leaving Tom both bewildered and apprehensive.
'(;ﾟДﾟ) I… shouldn't have provoked him, right?'
Despite having lived as a cat for over a decade, the phrase "the teacher wants to see you in the office" remained a nightmare etched into his psyche.
Tom hurriedly said goodbye to Hannah and made his way to Snape's office.
The office perfectly matched Tom's imagination of a Wizard's study: shelves lined with glass jars filled with animal organs—eyes, wings, bones, and roots soaking in strange liquids. Had he transmigrated here as a child, he might have thought he wandered into a fairy tale witch's cottage.
"The Principal has already informed me about your requirements," Snape began before Tom could speak.
"Whatever you need, just tell me the name of the item, and I can find it for you!"
As one of the top Potion masters of the era, Snape spoke with confidence.
"Of course, if you really can resurrect people… forget I mentioned it," Tom muttered, keeping the thought of Lily to himself for now. Snape had paused, and Tom knew why: Snape needed proof of his abilities first.
"Alright, that's all I have to say. If you have nothing else, make a list of everything you need," Snape continued, his tone stiff.
"Also… if you can maintain today's Potion standard, I'll exempt you from all Potion homework. I have other matters to attend to. Go to the Great Hall yourself."
Without waiting for a response, Snape dismissed him.
Tom, delighted by the exemption from homework, decided not to hold a grudge. Flicking his tail, he left cheerfully for the Great Hall.
Later, Gryffindor students whispered that Snape's robes had been full of holes that afternoon, as if burned by some unseen force. Tom had no idea what had happened in Snape's absence, and honestly, he didn't care. Today had been a victory—both in Potions and in surviving Snape's scrutiny.
Thus, Tom's first Potions class at Hogwarts came to an end. It was a clear declaration: a new force had arrived, one that even Severus Snape could not ignore.
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