Ron-Weasly book 1. V2 part 6-1

It's so cool in here. I'm fine in warm trousers and a shirt. It's also scary in the potions room itself. Glass jars filled with pickled animals stood in cupboards along all the walls.

Professor Snape, like Flitwick, began classes by opening a Grade book and getting to know the students. And, like Flitwick, he stopped when he reached the last name Potter. But if Flitwick was happy, Snape looked like he'd chewed a lemon.

"Oh, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle giggled mockingly, covering their faces with their hands. Snape immediately glared at them and the giggling stopped immediately. But Draco was grinning: over the past few days, he had already realized that Harry hated being called a celebrity and a national hero. And he was constantly walking around about it at recess and when he found himself nearby in the great hall.

After completing his introduction to the class, Snape looked around the audience with an attentive gaze. His eyes were black. They were cold and empty, and for some reason they looked like dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the science of making magic potions. A very precise and subtle science," Snape began.

Snape was almost whispering, but I could hear every word clearly. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had a gift for effortlessly controlling the classroom. As in Professor McGonagall's classes, no one dared to whisper or engage in outside activities.

"Silly waving of a magic wand has nothing to do with this science, and therefore many of you will find it hard to believe that my subject is an important component of magical science," Snape continued. "I don't think you can appreciate the beauty of a slow-boiling cauldron exuding the most subtle odors, or the gentle power of liquids that creep through a person's veins, bewitching his mind, enslaving his senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, how to brew triumph, how to plug death. But all this is only on condition that you are at least somewhat different from the herd of blockheads that usually comes to my lessons.

Unfortunately, although potions attract me, I understand that, most likely, I am still an ordinary crooked sheep in the opinion of our teacher. And it's much easier to buy a ready-made emergency kit on a hike, and not bother with preparing them in field conditions when you catch a cold or break your arm or leg. Although I have to learn how to make rowan broth and other popular potions. By the way, Mom poured me a few vials of rowan broth and cold potions into my medicine cabinet so that I wouldn't have to run to the hospital wing for nothing.

After this short speech, the silence in the course became absolute. Harry looked at me blankly. I didn't object to the fact that, in Snape's opinion, I was probably a crooked sheep. As Percy told me, the professor considers everyone who doesn't pass the OWLs at least well to be fools. Hermione Granger shifted impatiently in her chair, looking as if she couldn't wait to prove that she was definitely not one of the herd of blockheads.

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly. "What happens if I mix crushed asphodel root with wormwood tincture? The Weasleys sit in silence."

Harry glanced at me, but I was as puzzled by the question as he was. Even though I've been reading a textbook on potions, a lot has already disappeared from my mind. And I only read the chapters for the first year. And our mother didn't cook anything from asphodel roots. They say only professional potion makers work with him. But Hermione Granger clearly knew the answer, and her hand shot up into the air. Of course, she learned her textbook right up to the fifth year, I asked her on Tuesday.

"I do not know, sir," Harry replied.

A contemptuous expression appeared on Snape's face. Well, yes, my friend just admitted that he's a crooked sheep who doesn't read textbooks.

"Well, well... Obviously, fame is not everything. But let's try it again, Potter." Snape stubbornly refused to notice Hermione's raised hand. "If I ask you to bring me a bezoar stone, where will you look for it?"

In the medicine cabinet, of course. I couldn't quite remember where it was mined. And whether it's a stone at all, considering how it looks. A hairy stone, creepy. I carry a couple of them in my backpack all the time. Mom told me to put it in my mouth and try to swallow it. And then run to Madam Pomfrey or to Professor Snape, they say he is an expert on poisons.

Hermione continued to pull her hand, barely restraining herself from jumping up from her seat. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with silent laughter. And I myself only laughed at her behavior. I could barely contain myself. Damn, don't laugh, Harry will be offended.

"I do not know, sir," Harry confessed.

"It doesn't seem to have occurred to you to read your textbooks before coming to school, does it, Potter?! Do you know Weasley?"

Snape continued to ignore Hermione's trembling hand.

"No, sir. All I know is that it's in every first-aid kit."

"Well, at least you know something, sit down, Weasley. Malfoy, tell us where the bezoar comes from and what it's used for."

"From the stomach of a goat, sir. It is a universal antidote." I imagined poisoning myself and sending Harry to get a goat that might not have bezoars in it, and I almost laughed in my office.

"Okay, 2 points for Slytherin. Potter, what's the difference between wolfsbane and monk's hood?"

Hermione, unable to sit still any longer, stood up, stretching her arm towards the ceiling. Will this know-it-all ever calm down? She doesn't let anyone else answer in class at all. I know for sure that Neville knows a lot about plants, but no, Hermione is the first to pull her hand at herbology. And then Neville raises his hand, he's very shy. And of course Professor Sprout asks Hermione.

"I do not know," Harry said softly. "But I think Hermione knows that for sure, why don't you ask her, Professor?"

Laughter was heard. Harry looked around nervously. So, did he think they were laughing at him? I'll have to calm him down. In the meantime, it's better to sit quietly and keep quiet.

"Sit down!" Snape snapped, turning to Hermione for a moment. "And you, Potter, remember: from the root of asphodel and wormwood, a soporific potion is prepared, so strong that it is called the drink of living death. And wolfsbane and monk's hood are the same plant, also known as monkshood. Do you understand? So, everyone write down that bezoar is a universal antidote, so that everyone has a bezoar in a small medicine cabinet!"

I pulled my potions notebook out of my bag, a stack of parchment sheets neatly held together with a thin silver ribbon that shimmered slightly. Harry adjusted his set of parchment sheets stitched together and opened the "Potions: Basics" section, and the pages themselves opened to the desired entry. Dipping my pen into the ink, I prepared to write down Snape's words. I hurriedly grabbed my pens along with everyone else and rustled the parchment in my notebooks. But Snape's quiet voice cut through the uproar.

"For your insolent behavior, Miss Granger, I'm putting a penalty point on Gryffindor's account. No need to jump up, I can see you already, but I want to interview others. Mr. Potter, next time, read the textbook in the summer. If you mumble to me the same way after the next vacation, I'll take 2 points off you." The professor continued to interview the students on the initial chapters of the textbook on safety when working with boiling boilers.

If the Slytherins knew them and already brewed simple potions like me or helped their parents, then my fellow Gryffindors did not work with cauldrons at all, since they were from mixed families or Muggleborns in general.

"Come on, our people, remember!" I muttered from my seat. So that our faculty can hear me. The professor commented on my statement, saying that the students should not just read, but memorize the first three chapters. You were specially given so much time before your first potions lesson.

"By the way, Mr. Weasley and Longbot, where are your familiars, hopefully in the bedroom and not with you in the company?"

Snape looked at us urgently. Am I an idiot to drag him to such a dangerous place for a rat on my shoulder? And Neville was warned by Professor Sprout yesterday to leave the toad in her greenhouse for the duration of the lesson, where she would be comfortable.

"Of course, sir, but I left my rat walking on the lawn in front of the castle, and Neville left his Trevor at the greenhouses." I remember yesterday after herbology, I caught up with Hannah to ask her to bring fresh carrots for the Brat.