HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

Ian withdrew his hand, grinned, and pushed open the dormitory door first.

Kevin was sprawled out on the carpet, frowning at the open "Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration," his wand idly poking at the air while he muttered incantations.

Hearing the door open, he immediately looked up, his gaze quickly sweeping over the two people.

"You're back?" He sat up, his tone casual, but his eyes held a hint of inquiry. "The atmosphere in the common room was a bit strange just now. Did you two run into each other?"

Aris looked up from behind his thick runic book, adjusted his glasses, and calmly glanced at Severus's slightly tense expression before looking at Ian's still-present smile. He didn't speak, but simply closed the book halfway, assuming a listening posture.

"The seniors Avery were just playing a little joke," Ian said casually, tossing his backpack onto his bed. "It's a classic freshman orientation topic about the new environment and lineage."

Kevin pursed his lips, giving a "here we go again" look, and muttered under his breath, "That old tune of pureblood supremacy, my family didn't teach me that."

He looked at Severus, his tone becoming more sincere. "Ignore them, Snape. My father said that wands and brains are what truly matter, not family trees."

Severus didn't respond, but walked to his bedside and began to prepare the bronze scales and small silver knife he would need for tomorrow's Potions class.

Aris then spoke up, "The highest position held by the Avery family in the Ministry of Magic for the last three generations was actually only the deputy head of the Department of Magical Creatures Control."

He listened for a moment, seemingly recalling something he had seen before.

"My great-grandfather's award for contributions to magical innovation... according to the records I've seen, the process wasn't clean."

He looked up at the other person, his tone still calm:

"Therefore, his current sense of superiority is logically untenable."

The dormitory fell silent for a moment.

"You don't need to take his attitude too seriously," Aris thought for a moment, then added, "It's more like a bluff."

Ian almost burst out laughing, but he coughed loudly to cover it up.

Severus paused for half a second while adjusting his silver knife, and his lips seemed to twitch slightly, too quickly to be seen.

Kevin's mouth dropped open. He looked at Aris, then at Severus, and finally scratched his head. "Uh... so, you mean they're nothing special?"

"Based on the analysis of existing publicly available information, yes." Aris nodded, reopening the book as if he had only commented on the weather.

A subtle understanding spread through the dormitory.

Kevin got up, dusted off his robe, muttered "I hope I don't mess up Potions class tomorrow," and went to pack his things.

Ian hummed an off-key tune as he hastily scribbled the outline of the paper Professor Flitwick had assigned on parchment.

Severus continued his quiet preparations, only his back was no longer as stiff as a board as before.

The next morning, in the Potions classroom, the Slytherin and Gryffindor freshmen sat on opposite sides of the classroom, their atmosphere clearly divided.

Professor Slughorn, with his round belly protruding, welcomed them in a loud voice and emphasized the precision and danger of Potions.

"A little carelessness could turn medicine for treating boils into a disaster that leaves someone covered in boils!" He smiled slickly, his eyes sweeping across the room, lingering for a moment on a few students who looked particularly clumsy, but Ian was not among them.

After Professor Slughorn finished going through the process once, he wrote the steps on the blackboard and piled the materials on the shelf at the front of the classroom.

Ian looked at the dense instructions and felt a chill run down his spine. He subconsciously glanced at Severus beside him.

Severus had quickly reviewed the steps and precisely retrieved each of the materials they needed, neatly arranging them on the table: dried nettles, snake fangs, slugs with tentacles, porcupine quills, and pufferfish eyes.

"I'll handle the snake fangs?" Ian tried to sound more reliable.

"Grind it into a fine powder, the finer the better, but don't use too much force, or the powder will fly around."

Without looking up, Severus began cutting the dried nettles into almost equal-length pieces.

Ian nodded and picked up the mortar and pestle.

At first, things went smoothly, but when he started grinding those hard snake fangs, his attention was inadvertently distracted by the noise from the next table.

James Potter was trying to poke a wriggling slug with the tip of his wand when Lily whispered a reprimand to him.

In that moment of distraction, the force shifted slightly, and with a muffled "bang," several larger fragments burst out, along with some dust.

Ian tried to fix it, but the more he rushed, the more chaotic it became. The powder became uneven in size, and some of it stuck to the mortar wall.

On the other side, Severus had perfectly processed the nettles and was precisely weighing the standard dose of slugs in a small silver pot.

He glanced at Ian's mortar and pestle, said nothing, but sped up the process of dealing with the slugs. After freeing his hands, he silently took the mortar and pestle, carefully brushed off the powder stuck to the sides with a small brush, and then quickly and evenly ground it a few more times. The previously rough parts immediately became smooth and uniform.

"Thank you." Ian was a little embarrassed.

"Heat the crucible, on a low flame," Severus instructed briefly, handing over the slug.

According to the steps, the snake tooth powder and chopped snake horn should be added to the crucible.

Ian took a deep breath and picked up the small dish containing the powder.

Perhaps due to nervousness, or perhaps he was truly incompatible with potions, his wrist inexplicably trembled as he poured the powder, causing half a dish to be added at once instead of the amount that should have been added slowly. Moreover, the timing seemed to be slightly off from the rhythm of Severus adding the slugs.

"Wait, don't mess it up—" Severus tried to stop him, but it was too late.

Ian instinctively stirred the mixture three times clockwise with the stirring stick.

The purple liquid in the crucible, which had been steadily bubbling, suddenly stopped, its color rapidly turning into an ominous orange-yellow, and it began to bubble violently, making a "gurgling" sound as if it were indigestion, and a pungent sulfur smell permeated the air.

"Merlin!" Ian frantically tried to move the flames away, nearly knocking over the box of porcupine quills next to him.

Severus swiftly and precisely removed the crucible from the fire.

But it was too late; the liquid in the pot had turned into something smoky and smelled like expired pumpkin porridge, a complete failure.

"Hey! Look over there!" A deliberately raised voice came from the Gryffindor table across the way; it was Sirius Black.

He crossed his arms, his gray eyes full of mockery. "Bock, are you brewing scabies potion or creating a new kind of poison gas bomb? I've certainly seen Slytherin's potion-making skills today."

James Porter grinned from the side, adding fuel to the fire: "Maybe it's family tradition? This is popular in Knockturn Alley?"

Lily frowned and gave them a disapproving look, but her attention was quickly drawn to her pot of medicine, which was a fairly normal color.

Ian's cheeks were burning, but he felt mostly annoyed.

He pursed his lips, ignoring the provocation from the other side, and simply looked at the failed attempt, whispering to Severus, "...Sorry."