Friday morning arrived with Lucas Summers barely conscious.
He sat at the Gryffindor table mechanically eating breakfast while trying not to fall asleep directly into his pumpkin juice. His brain still felt half-fried from another late-night raid into the Restricted Section.
Then Harry and Ron's conversation suddenly dragged him back to reality.
"What classes do we have today?" Harry asked while buttering toast.
Ron groaned dramatically. "Double Potions with Slytherin."
He lowered his voice darkly.
"Snape's Head of Slytherin House. Fred says he openly favours them all the time."
Harry sighed. "I wish Professor McGonagall favoured us like that."
Then his expression became miserable as he remembered the mountain of homework McGonagall had assigned.
Honestly, Harry was already considering borrowing Lucas's work later and copying it directly.
Meanwhile, Lucas finally remembered something important.
Today was the first Potions class.
The moment that thought appeared, a strange sense of danger suddenly rose inside him.
Lucas trusted his instincts.
And his instincts were screaming.
Something bad was absolutely going to happen today.
Which made no sense.
Today was supposed to be Harry's disaster, not his.
Unless…
Lucas's expression darkened slightly.
Could this be backlash from the divination he'd performed on Quirrell a few days ago?
If so, calling it a "small price" had been the greatest lie in history.
Just then, the morning post arrived.
Hundreds of owls flooded into the Great Hall in a storm of feathers and noise, swooping over tables while dropping packages, newspapers, and letters onto students' heads.
Ever since arriving at Hogwarts, Lucas's owl Snowball had basically retired from active service.
Before school started, the poor creature had spent every day flying nonstop between the Leaky Cauldron and Worley Manor carrying messages. By the end of summer, the owl had looked one trip away from death.
Now Snowball mostly stayed in Lucas's dormitory recovering emotionally.
At the Gryffindor table, Hedwig swooped gracefully down beside Harry's breakfast plate and dropped a note between the jam and sugar bowl.
Harry opened it immediately.
Then he borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled a quick reply onto the back, and sent Hedwig flying away again.
"Hagrid invited us to his hut at three this afternoon," Harry said excitedly. "He invited you too, Lucas."
Lucas looked genuinely tempted for about two seconds.
Then exhaustion crushed the idea completely.
"…I'll pass," he muttered. "Three o'clock is perfect nap time."
Harry looked disappointed.
"You and Ron can go," Lucas added lazily. "Oh, and bring your own snacks."
Harry blinked. "Why?"
Lucas gave him a meaningful look. "Unless you enjoy the risk of broken teeth."
Then he stood up alongside Kassandra and headed toward the dungeons for Potions.
Unlike earlier, Lucas now felt completely awake.
Pure survival instinct had activated.
He was absolutely certain something terrible awaited him in Snape's classroom.
And unlike History of Magic or Charms, sleeping through Potions felt impossible.
Unless he intended to sleep permanently afterward.
The Potions classroom sat deep beneath the castle in the cold stone dungeons.
The air smelled of herbs, smoke, and strange potion ingredients. Along the walls stood shelves filled with large glass jars containing preserved creatures floating in murky liquids.
Lucas glanced around thoughtfully.
Snape's personality really was darker than a funeral procession.
The moment class began, Snape picked up the attendance roster.
His cold voice echoed through the dungeon while he called names one by one.
Then he paused.
His black eyes settled first on Harry.
"Oh yes," Snape said softly. "Harry Potter."
His lips curled faintly.
"Our new… celebrity."
Then his gaze shifted slowly toward Lucas.
"And Lucas Summers. The student rumoured to be Professor Dumbledore's personal disciple."
Draco Malfoy instantly snorted with laughter while Crabbe and Goyle laughed along beside him like malfunctioning trolls.
After finishing roll call, Snape looked up at the class.
His eyes were cold and unreadable.
Then Lucas noticed something horrifying.
Snape was staring directly at him.
Alarm bells immediately exploded inside Lucas's head.
Why are you looking at me?
Go bully Harry like you're supposed to!
"You are here," Snape began softly, "to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."
His voice was barely above a whisper, yet every student heard him clearly.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class. As such, many of you may hardly believe this is magic at all."
Snape moved slowly through the room like a giant black bat.
"I cannot teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, or even put a stopper in death…"
His dark eyes narrowed slightly.
"…unless you are as big a bunch of idiots as I usually have to teach."
The classroom became completely silent.
Then Snape suddenly turned toward Harry.
"Potter," he said smoothly, "what would I get if I added powdered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry froze completely.
Beside him, Hermione's hand shot into the air so fast it nearly dislocated her shoulder.
Lucas silently grabbed her wrist and lowered it.
Then he slid a prepared piece of parchment onto her desk.
Hermione blinked in confusion before reading the note.
The message was simple.
Please stop trying to answer every question for Harry. You're accidentally making things worse.
Hermione glanced at Lucas suspiciously.
Still, trusting him, she slowly lowered her hand.
"I… I don't know, sir," Harry admitted.
Inside, he already regretted ignoring Lucas's earlier advice.
If he'd simply read the Potions textbook before class, at least he wouldn't look completely helpless right now.
Unfortunately, even reading it probably wouldn't have helped unless he memorised the entire thing like Hermione.
Snape's lips curled mockingly.
"Tsk, tsk. Fame clearly isn't everything."
Several Slytherins snickered.
"Let us try again," Snape continued silkily. "Potter, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle nearly collapsed laughing now.
Harry's ears turned red.
"I don't know, sir."
Snape stared down at him coldly.
"Perhaps you haven't opened a single textbook before arriving at Hogwarts?"
Harry clenched his fists beneath the desk.
"Tell me, Potter," Snape continued immediately, "what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Harry's patience finally snapped.
"How am I supposed to know all that?" he muttered angrily. "You can't expect me to memorise all of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi—"
"Ten points from Gryffindor for talking back to a professor," Snape interrupted instantly.
Harry nearly exploded.
His face went bright red while Ron hurriedly grabbed his sleeve beneath the desk before Harry did something catastrophically stupid.
Lucas watched silently from nearby.
In the original timeline, Snape had only deducted a single point.
Now he'd taken ten immediately.
Apparently history had become more aggressive.
Just as Lucas thought the interrogation was finally over, Snape suddenly moved.
With terrifying speed, he snatched the note sitting on Hermione's desk before anyone could react.
The entire classroom froze.
....
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