"Five minutes to find your group members and take your seats."
Snape's sharp command sliced through the air.
Almost immediately, the panicked students stood up and began scrambling around the classroom in search of suitable partners.
"You wouldn't want me to assign your groups for you—"
Snape's cold warning from the podium was laced with an unmistakable undertone of menace.
This only heightened the students' anxiety. Many stumbled as they switched seats, turning the classroom into a chaotic mess.
Jane stood in the corner, watching the scene unfold with great interest.
Although she had been excused from Potions class, that didn't stop her from wanting to enjoy the spectacle.
Driven by her passion for potions research, she had brought her cauldron to the dungeon classroom, earning herself a signature glare from Snape.
"One minute left. If I find anyone still without a group, ten points will be deducted from each of you—"
The classroom grew even noisier, filled with the scraping of chairs and desperate pleas for groupmates.
"Three... two... one... Time's up!"
The students suddenly fell silent, rushing to sit down. In the middle of the room, only two unfortunate souls remained standing—Harry and Ron.
Everyone turned to look at them, their gazes a mix of sympathy, curiosity, and schadenfreude.
It was common knowledge that Potter and Weasley were Snape's favorite targets for point deductions. Inviting them into a group was akin to attaching a ticking time bomb.
Under Snape's piercing gaze, the two boys broke into a cold sweat, the floor beneath them becoming damp with droplets of their anxiety.
But they weren't the only ones sweating profusely. Another group, led by Draco Malfoy, found themselves in a similar predicament.
Thanks to Malfoy's high standards and picky nature, his attempt to handpick the perfect groupmates had backfired, leaving him subjected to glares from the Gryffindors.
"Potter, Weasley, for the sake of your great friendship, twenty points from Gryffindor."
Snape swiftly delivered his verdict, his eyes scanning the classroom like a hawk before locking onto Draco's trio.
"Now, Potter, join Malfoy's group."
Draco's face twisted as if he had just bitten into a lemon, and he let out a heavy groan.
Harry's expression mirrored his exactly, as though they were cut from the same cloth.
Meanwhile, another group, consisting of Blaise Zabini and his teammates, tried in vain to hide their vacant seat from Snape's notice.
"Weasley, join Zabini's table."
Now there were two more faces contorted in misery.
Jane, the ever-curious spectator, was thoroughly enjoying the drama. But her amusement was abruptly interrupted by Snape's sharp remark.
"Miss Yu, I assume your presence here is for the purpose of improving Polyjuice Potion, not for skulking around like a house-elf."
Jane shrugged and began preparing leeches and lacewing flies with her knife.
Satisfied that she was finally getting to work, Snape turned back to the class and continued his instructions:
"I should inform you that, due to this year's curriculum reform, forty percent of your grades will come from group assignments—"
"By the end of the term, you must collaborate on a presentation and submit a ten-foot-long essay—"
A few loud thuds echoed through the room—
Officially, they were the sounds of chairs hitting the floor, but in reality, they were the sounds of students' hearts shattering.
Jane almost gasped in sympathy for them.
Ten feet... three meters... and a presentation...
She silently thanked her exemption, her private lessons, and even her detentions!
But the students had no time to lament, as Snape had already moved on to the day's lesson.
To avoid any potential explosions that could blow up the Potions classroom, he pointed to a stack of silver cauldrons in the corner.
"For the past three years, you've been using pewter cauldrons, which are simple and beginner-friendly for those new to potion-making—"
"But this year, we'll be using silver cauldrons. Now, each group, send one member to collect them."
Jane, pretending to be engrossed in potion-making, perked up her ears at this.
Silver cauldrons? One per group?
"You may have noticed the unique feature of these cauldrons: their bases have been reforged and are not of standard thickness."
Bases? Reforged?
Jane caught onto the key words and glanced at Harry.
Was he still lost in the blissful fantasy of grinding cauldron bases?
Had he not considered what lay ahead?
Sure enough, Snape, exuding an aura of menace, issued his next command:
"For today's lesson, familiarize yourselves with these cauldrons. Thin their bases to the standard thickness. The test is whether they can withstand normal heating without cracking—"
"This will affect your future lessons—and, of course, your entire group—"
The classroom immediately erupted into chaos. Snape took a moment to glance at Jane, frowning as he noticed her gaze fixed on Harry.
Following her line of sight, Snape quickly spotted the problem.
At Harry's table, the four group members were hard at work—one wielding sandpaper, another casting spells—busily grinding the cauldron.
Though Malfoy and Harry were at odds—
Their progress had already far outpaced the other groups in the room!
They were even taking care of the cauldron walls!
Such proficiency—
This Harry Potter was clearly a repeat offender!
Snape took a deep breath before striding over to their table, his dark gaze boring into Harry:
"Impressive, Potter. Such skilled cauldron-grinding techniques. I suppose your mutt of a godfather taught you well—"
Harry's face turned as white as a sheet.
It was over! He was exposed!
Sirius, save me!
But his godfather, far away at 12 Grimmauld Place, couldn't sense his despair. Harry had no choice but to endure Snape's venomous tirade:
"Since that's the case, I can't let your talent go to waste."
"I'll prepare every cauldron in your year for you to grind during detention. You'll pay for your actions—"
Harry looked completely paralyzed.
His pleading gaze nearly burned a hole into Jane.
Jane responded with a look that said, "You're on your own."
Snape, ever merciless, cut off their silent exchange and stormed back to the podium, resuming his supervision of Jane's ingredient preparation.
But the constant commotion in the classroom forced him to pause.
"Zabini, put down that cauldron—"
"Weasley, if I see you put a cauldron on someone's head again—you're out of my class—"
Similar scenes of chaos were not limited to Snape's classroom.
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