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In Potions class, Snape was teaching the method for brewing an antidote to a potent wizarding poison.
Some of the Durmstrang students sat tense and uneasy, desperate to write down every word Snape said. The rest stared blankly at the ceiling, their minds already gone elsewhere.
To prevent Hogwarts from cheating and to monitor the two Hogwarts champions more closely, Karkaroff had taken the initiative to send all students except Viktor into the fourth-year classes.
In his mind, sixth-years attending fourth-year classes should feel no academic pressure at all. Who would have thought Hogwarts's fourth-years were this abnormal? Their progress far exceeded sixth-year standards.
The result was that the Durmstrang students could keep up even less.
It was like taking a group of relaxed students and dropping them straight into an elite exam-prep school where everyone studied, practiced, and tested together.
The thought alone was enough to make them shudder.
Even if they wrote down every word without missing a single one, they still could not understand what Snape was teaching.
They could not adapt at all. Quite a few Durmstrang students simply gave up.
Snape did not bother managing them. They were not his students, after all. Whether they learned well or badly had nothing to do with him.
Ron lay on the desk with a lifeless expression. "Can the school not serve normal food anymore?"
Ever since that day when he had experienced the smell of fermented herring with Dudley and the others, Ron had not been able to eat properly.
Nothing tasted good. He had no appetite at all. His mind was filled with the smell of that can. At lunch today, even his favorite large chicken leg had failed to move him.
All right, the main reason was that, to suit Beauxbatons tastes, today's chicken leg had been sweet. It had been covered with a thick layer of jam and white sugar.
A sweet chicken leg? Was that food for human beings? It was the greatest disrespect one could show a chicken leg.
Unsurprisingly, Ron lying on the desk was discovered by the professor.
"Weatherby, if you want to sleep, go outside and sleep."
Now even Ron's surname was wrong, not just his given name.
But Ron did not care.
As a pure foodie, if even food no longer mattered, what was there left to fear?
Mr. Ronald feared nothing.
Suddenly, a strange aroma entered Ron's nose. It was a scent he had never smelled before. In that instant, he came back to life, jerked his head up, and looked around.
'Someone is cooking in Potions class?'
Very quickly, that strange aroma grew stronger and spread through the whole classroom. Ron was not the only one to smell it. Everyone else smelled it too.
Snape's expression darkened at once.
Clearly, he had smelled it as well.
Someone dared cook food in his class. That was bold beyond belief.
Did they not take him, the Potions professor, seriously?
He wanted to see who dared act so boldly. He would certainly let that person taste the poison connected to today's antidote lesson first.
Did they truly think Severus Snape had a good temper?
His sharp gaze swept immediately over the Durmstrang seats, frightening the visiting students into shrinking backward as hard as they could, afraid of being caught by his stare.
No. It was not them.
Having found nothing, he withdrew his gaze with regret.
If it was not the visiting students, then it was someone from Hogwarts.
Start with the boldest: Gryffindor.
Still nothing.
Snape frowned. If it was not Gryffindor, then it could only be Slytherin. Potions class paired Gryffindor and Slytherin together.
Following the smell, his gaze landed on the front row of Slytherin, where Dudley sat.
At that moment, steam was rising from Dudley's cauldron. Snape personally saw him throw in a handful of coriander.
"Mr. Dursley, I think you had better explain why you are cooking food in my class."
Snape looked extremely angry. His tone was calm, but his eyes were dangerously cold. He addressed Dudley by surname alone.
Dudley did indeed have special permission to work on other things during Potions class, but that was not a reason to cook food during Potions.
Where had that nerve come from?
Even as Snape's favorite student, if Dudley could not provide a reasonable excuse, Snape would make him pay.
The surrounding young wizards instinctively shrank backward. They did not want to be caught in the blast. Snape's anger should be borne by Dudley alone.
"Professor Snape."
Dudley raised his head, tossed chopped onion into the cauldron, and looked at Snape seriously. "I am brewing a potion."
"What did you say?"
As if he had not heard clearly, Snape's voice rose several degrees, and his tone became even more dangerous. "Repeat what you just said."
"I am brewing a potion, Professor."
Dudley repeated it and met his gaze without fear.
Snape was almost angry enough to laugh. He crossed the distance to Dudley in a few quick steps and looked into the cauldron. Potatoes, cabbage, and tender white tofu cubes were tumbling inside. His expression could not have looked worse.
To Snape, it looked nothing like a potion.
What was this if not a pot of vegetables? A clear vegetable soup, no less.
He did not know why Dudley was doing this, but he knew he was angry. Very angry.
Outstanding talent did not give Dudley permission to do whatever he pleased.
Just as Snape was about to erupt, a voice sounded from outside the door.
"Professor Snape!"
A younger student stood at the entrance.
"What is it?"
Snape turned impatiently to look at him. His gloomy expression nearly frightened the younger wizard to tears.
"Sorry, sir. I have to bring Mr. Potter and Mr. Dursley upstairs," he said nervously. "Mr. Bagman wants them there. All the champions are needed. It seems there is something important to explain."
"Good. Very good. Excellent."
Snape narrowed his eyes at Dudley and spoke sharply. "Dursley, Potter, disappear from my sight. Immediately."
"Professor, I know you may have misunderstood, but..."
Dudley ladled a bowl of fragrant soup and placed it in front of Snape. "This really is a potion."
After saying that, he did not explain further. He left the Potions classroom with Harry, following the younger student who had come to notify them.
Watching Dudley leave, he hesitated for a moment, then lightly picked up the bowl of soup and smelled it carefully.
Very quickly, his expression changed slightly. He hurriedly stirred the cauldron with a ladle. When he lifted it, he saw a special ingredient sitting in the center of the ladle.
It was the key main ingredient for the antidote he was teaching in this lesson.
Only then did his expression improve slightly.
He looked meaningfully toward the doorway where Dudley had vanished.
'Only fourth year, and he has already begun finding his own path. Though it is still immature.'
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