Harry blinked at the question, blank as a wiped slate—then, to everyone's shock, answered them one by one.
"Powerful sleeping draught—Draught of Living Death."
"A bezoar comes from a goat's stomach and works as an antidote."
"And… the monkshood/wolfsbane thing—if you're asking that too—they're the same plant. Aconite."
Snape inclined his head, oddly satisfied. "Harry Potter listens, records, and retains. Gryffindor, plus three. The rest of you—why aren't you writing? Or are all your memories as obliging as Potter's?"
Quills skittered like beetles across parchment. Only Draco Malfoy looked as if a herd of hippogriffs had stampeded through his worldview. He trembled in his chair, eyes bulging.
This isn't how Potions is supposed to go.
Class rolled on into boil-cure brewing. Unlike the rumour-mill's portrait of a hissing basilisk, today Snape's temper was sheathed. Perhaps he feared a casual "Gryffindors are trolls" might splash the wrong Gryffindor.
Theo clicked his tongue inwardly. First love of Hogwarts indeed.
On Theo's pane, new lines unfurled:
[You and the youths Nezha and Lei Zhenzi have the fortune to hear Master Taiyi instruct on the Way of Pills.]
[Among the Twelve Golden Immortals of the Jade Void, though Perfected Jade Cauldron and Pure Ethic are famed, the acknowledged first in pillcraft is Master Taiyi.]
[In battle as well, Taiyi stands at the forefront; when the Nine-Dragon Fiery Canopy descends, eight wilds burn.]
[Forge ties with Taiyi and reap unbounded fortune.]
[Acquaintance with Taiyi → Talent: Duelcraft, Innate. Your combat craft flows as if native to heaven; you seize openings as they appear.]
[Close Friend with Taiyi → Talent: Profound Pillcraft. Your hand for pills is uncanny; what others call impossible becomes routine. Driven to its peak, even life-restoring, bone-knitting, ascension-guiding elixirs are not far.]
[Life-and-Death with Taiyi → Forge: Nine-Dragon Fiery Canopy. A field-wide flame treasure that boils seas and chars skies; even ten-thousand-year immortals perish within.]
Theo's eyes warmed. So the System pegs Snape as Master Taiyi. Harsh hand, supreme pillcraft, duelling chops—it fits.
"Duelcraft, Innate" would sharpen real fights; "Profound Pillcraft" alongside Seven-Apertures Heart and Control Fire As One? He could actually start refining pills—if he could source ingredients. As for the Nine-Dragon Fiery Canopy… delicious, but a very distant dream.
At the cauldrons, Neville repeated canon's mistake—nearly dropped porcupine quills into a boiling brew. This time, "Harry" caught his wrist before disaster.
"Harry Potter not only brews but minds his mates," Snape said. "Gryffindor, plus five."
He peered into Harry's cauldron, and approval edged his voice. "Potter's boil-cure is… promising. Gryffindor, plus three."
He moved on—and halted at Theo's station.
Even by a Master's eye, Theo's potion left nothing to pick apart. Heat-curves clean, viscosity perfect, colour exactly between celadon and jade; every motion from cutting to stirring had been deliberate.
"Mr Ashbourne," Snape said at last, "two points to Gryffindor."
Set-up complete, Theo thought. Time to play the card.
He lifted his head. "Professor, may I pick your brain about something?"
Snape's brows drew together. On any other day he'd have sliced a Gryffindor for presumption. Today, softened by Harry and by a flawless potion, he merely sneered on habit. "Oh? One boil-cure and you fancy you've glimpsed grand mysteries? Very well—amuse me."
"It's about colour," Theo said mildly. "I meant to change Harry's hair, but the charm-work is crude at my level. I've heard potion-based colour holds far more… naturally. Could you teach me a proper Colour-Change Potion?"
He added, guileless as a lamb, "Harry's green eyes are striking. If his hair were adjusted—ah, pardon my boldness—to a shade like yours, Professor… that black would really set off the green."
A beat.
The ice on Snape's face thinned like hoarfrost in a sunbeam.
"My hair," he repeated, very faintly, "and those eyes."
Something in him—some old, aching alignment of black and green—clicked.
"Gryffindor, plus ten," he said. "For Mr Ashbourne's… discerning aesthetic judgement."
Half the class forgot to breathe. Theo kept his expression politely attentive while his System purred:
[Master Taiyi notes your eye for essentials. Favour improves.]
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