In the end, Sean decided to accept the invitation from the Ouroboros Wizard Society.
Since the group consisted of talented pure-blood wizards from various years, he might be able to learn some advanced magic from the older students.
On the third day after enrollment, they finally had Snape's Potions class.
Slytherin and Gryffindor attended the class together.
More than twenty cauldrons were arranged around the classroom.
Sean's cauldron was just as battered as the one used by the Weasley twins—old, dented, and clearly secondhand.
With a loud bang, the classroom door flew open.
Snape strode in briskly, sweeping toward the podium as he spoke.
"This class does not require foolish wand-waving, nor will you be chanting nonsense incantations."
"So I expect that many of you will fail to appreciate the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."
Snape's gaze shifted and landed on Sean.
"However, for those select few who truly possess the aptitude, I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."
"In this classroom, there are already some students with remarkable talent and a rather impressive reputation."
"Sean Grylls, I wonder whether you are interested in Potions."
"Professor Snape, I am very interested in potion-making," Sean replied.
"Very well," Snape said. "Tell me—what would happen if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Sean was slightly surprised.
He's asking me too?
Snape had asked Harry the same questions in the original story because Harry wasn't paying attention.
But Sean was sitting upright, watching Snape attentively.
Fortunately, he knew the answers.
"It would create a Draught of Living Death."
"And where, Mr. Grylls, would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat," Sean replied. "It has strong antidote properties."
Snape paused before asking another question.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"There is no difference," Sean said. "They are the same plant, collectively known as aconite."
Snape nodded.
Then he turned around and walked back to the podium, addressing the entire class with his back to them.
"If the rest of you possessed half the intelligence of Mr. Grylls, perhaps you would know how to take notes."
The students hurriedly opened their notebooks and wrote down the three questions and answers.
Even if Sean had forgotten the movie version of the answers, he could still have responded correctly.
The information was in the first-year textbook, Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger.
Even Hermione had been able to answer these questions.
The reason Sean hadn't included Potions among the six subjects he planned to test out of was not because he didn't know the theory.
He had memorized the entire book.
The problem was practical experience.
Potion-making required more than memorizing recipes.
"Today we will be brewing a Cure for Boils," Snape said.
"Turn to page three."
Sean opened his textbook but didn't bother reading.
He already remembered the recipe.
"Add dried nettles and crushed snake fangs to the cauldron and simmer."
"After removing the cauldron from the fire, add porcupine quills and stewed horned slugs."
"Be careful," Snape continued. "If you add the porcupine quills while the cauldron is still on the fire, the potion will melt the cauldron, producing thick green smoke and a sharp hissing sound."
"The splashing liquid is corrosive. Anyone touched by it will break out in painful boils. I would prefer not to send anyone to the hospital wing today."
Sean worked cautiously at his cauldron.
The last thing he wanted was to spend two days in the hospital wing covered in boils.
To his surprise, he turned out to have a natural talent for potion-making.
He carefully followed the instructions step by step—
and didn't make a single mistake.
"Very good," Snape said. "Five points to Slytherin."
Snape seemed very pleased with Sean's performance.
Nearby, the Weasley twins whispered to each other.
"Slytherin has the genius kid," Fred muttered. "That's completely unfair."
"Looks like the House Cup will belong to Slytherin this year," George replied.
Sean heard them and thought to himself:
In a couple of years, your house will have its own genius too.
So far, Sean had attended seven of the eight first-year classes.
Except for Astronomy—where he had quietly copied Dark Magic: A Guide to Self-Defense—his performance in the other six classes had either impressed or angered the professors.
Only Flying Lessons remained.
Once he completed that class, he would have experienced the entire first-year curriculum.
If he could impress the instructor during flying class, he might even consider trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team.
After enduring Thursday morning's Potions and Charms classes and the afternoon Herbology lesson, the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students excitedly gathered on the outdoor flying field.
"Good afternoon, class," Madam Hooch said.
"Good afternoon!" the students responded.
"Today we will begin your first flying lesson."
"Well then—what are you waiting for? Stand to the left of your broomsticks."
Madam Hooch had prepared twenty-nine broomsticks.
There were nineteen Hufflepuff students and ten Slytherins.
"Place your right hand over the broom," Madam Hooch instructed.
"Then say 'Up!' Put some feeling into it."
This process didn't require building a magical framework.
Instead, it relied primarily on mental focus, one of the three core elements of magic.
The broom needed to respond to the wizard's call.
Cedric stood opposite Sean.
Sean smiled politely at him.
Then he focused his mind, stretched his hand toward the broom, and said:
"Up."
The broom immediately leapt into his hand.
Sean gripped it with satisfaction.
Looks like I might be pretty good at Quidditch too.
Cedric was the second to succeed.
Then Chris, Cassius, and Graham followed.
Sean remembered that Cedric later became Hufflepuff's Quidditch captain, so this result wasn't surprising.
Cassius and Graham would eventually become Slytherin Seekers.
After a moment, Madam Hooch saw that everyone had grabbed their broomsticks.
"Now mount your brooms," she said.
"Hold on tightly and don't slide off."
"When I blow my whistle, push off the ground."
"Once airborne, steady your broom and hover for a moment. Then lean forward slightly and return to the ground."
"Alright," she said. "Hufflepuff first."
She counted to three and blew the whistle.
The Hufflepuff students swung their right legs over their brooms.
Their feet were still touching the ground.
Cedric pushed off strongly.
His broom lifted him about one and a half meters into the air.
One after another, the other students rose into the air as well.
Madam Hooch nodded.
"Very good. Now come back down. Remember—lean forward slightly."
The Hufflepuffs landed safely.
Next it was Slytherin's turn.
Many Hufflepuffs turned their eyes toward Sean.
After all, he had already become famous among the first-years.
"One… two… three… Up!"
Madam Hooch blew the whistle again.
Sean swung onto the broom.
Then he pushed off the ground confidently.
Perhaps he pushed too hard—
because his broom shot upward and carried him nearly three meters into the air.
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