After breakfast, the students all headed toward their classrooms. Skyl had a hard life. He still had to cover a class for his own Head of House. In truth, he badly wanted to attend Potions today. Not for any other reason, but because today's class was being taught by Snape and Lily together.
On the way to the classroom, Lily asked Snape, "Why did you suddenly decide to let me teach the seventh-years? Didn't you refuse to let me interfere before?"
"If you feel you're incapable of the task, you may say so. I will be understanding toward an inexperienced potions scholar." Snape kept his face stiff and strode ahead in great steps, forcing the witch to jog a little just to keep up with him.
"When are you going to fix that awful habit of yours?" Lily said, slightly out of breath. "When I was at school… I mean, back then, you were the same. You never said anything directly. You always had to go around in circles, and you loved mocking people."
The old bat, his wide sleeves drifting, paused briefly and glanced back at Lily. The witch, dressed in a neat and practical way, was not frightened by Snape's icy gaze. She proudly lifted her chin and looked at him with a strange expression of pity.
"…Dumbledore suggested that I hand the teaching work over to you," Snape said with a violent frown, sounding deeply unwilling.
"But you're still worried, so you want to test my level first. Is that it?" Lily smiled and caught up to Snape with light steps. "What are you all doing in that tower? Can I go take a look?"
"Didn't Skyl tell you?"
"He only said it was a place for magical experiments."
"Then there is no need for you to know." As a member of the Tower Covenant, Snape understood very well what confidentiality meant.
"So stingy? Then I'll ask him myself."
By the time they reached the classroom, there was less than half a minute before class began. They had arrived exactly on time, and the students were already present.
Lily's arrival brought a pleasant surprise to the seventh-years, especially the Gryffindors, who grinned and applauded in welcome.
"Silence," Snape drawled, and that dampening tone instantly killed the applause.
"This class will be handled by Ms. Evans-Collins." After saying that, he sat down in a corner of the classroom, took out a thick notebook, and began reading.
The assistant teacher showed no stage fright. Smiling, she asked, "Can anyone tell me where you've gotten to in the course?"
The male Head Boy, Percy Weasley, raised his hand and answered, "Ms. Collins, for the past while, we've mostly been helping Professor Snape brew potions. Mainly the Draught of Living Death and Strengthening Solution. There were also dittany preparations, Forgetfulness Potion, Elixir to Induce Euphoria, and Calming Draught."
Lily looked at Snape in surprise, but the old bat sat motionless in the corner as if he were deaf.
"So would you rather brew more potions this class, or would you like to hear something about the exam?"
The students all said they wanted to hear about the exam. They had been treated like free labor for several weeks and were long since sick of repetitive work.
"All right, then let's talk about what the N.E.W.T.s actually are. When I took this exam, I earned a high mark. Although several years have passed since then, the textbooks are not very different from when I was at school. I believe my experience should still be useful to you."
The assistant teacher discussed many things to watch out for in the exam, as well as small tricks for brewing potions. There were not many students in the classroom, only about twenty from all four Houses combined, and everyone listened with great interest.
Seeing that half the class had already passed and the enchanting scent of potions still had not drifted through the air, Snape finally could not resist interrupting Lily's lecture.
"Ms. Collins, your examination experience is very moving, but Potions is not a venue for you to deliver speeches. This is a Potions classroom. As an instructor, what you should be teaching is not how to use pretty words to placate an examiner, but the art of controlling temperature, how to brew glory in a simple cauldron, how to explore truth, how to hold back death. Do not let your admittedly pleasant chirping fill this sacred hall. Let rising steam and the fragrance of magic steep every stone brick instead. Have I made myself clear?"
Lily narrowed her eyes and retorted without yielding an inch, "If Mr. Snape has already taught them the art of Potions, then no matter how hard I try, I would only be adding a few finishing touches to the foundation you have laid. I believe what the students urgently need is not to repeatedly revisit those commonplace potions, but to explore the gaps in their system of knowledge and make up for their weaknesses and shortcomings. That is how they will achieve high marks."
When this witch showed such an expression, her proud and unyielding nature was fully revealed. Lily had always been a strong-willed witch, the kind who would cut ties with her closest childhood friend over a single insult to her dignity. In her entire life, she had only yielded once, when she begged Voldemort not to murder her one-year-old son.
Snape's forceful manner faltered. Then he suddenly asked coldly, "It seems you are quite confident in your knowledge. In that case, please tell me, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They are the same ingredient, both commonly known as aconite."
"Where can a bezoar be obtained?"
"Simple. It is a stone formed in the stomach of a goat."
The old bat walked up to the assistant teacher and looked down at her unfamiliar face. Then he threw out the final question. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Lily's eyes flickered. The asphodel Snape had mentioned was a type of lily. In ancient Greece, the flower was often closely associated with death. According to legend, after ordinary people who had lived unremarkable lives died, their souls would rest in the asphodel fields. It was also often extended to mean grief caused by someone's death. In the language of flowers, it meant: my regrets follow you to the grave. Wormwood, meanwhile, often implied regret, remorse, and pain.
The speaker had not meant anything by it, but the listener heard more than the words themselves. Lily suddenly felt a faint surge of emotion.
She silently gazed at the old bat's face, gloomy, greasy, with eyes as black as deep pools, just like the boy who had once lived on Spinner's End.
"Can't answer?" Snape revealed a smug smile. "It seems you are not qualified to teach seventh-year graduates."
"No. I know. It is the formula for the Draught of Living Death."
The Draught of Living Death. When two ingredients symbolizing sorrow were mixed together in a wizard's cauldron, they produced a potion like a soup from a living hell. Although the drinker would fall into a painless sleep, the experience was not exactly comfortable. When administering the Draught of Living Death to the Celestial brain, it had to be paired with the Elixir to Induce Euphoria so the nerve cells would not fall into an excessively suppressed state.
Snape coughed dryly and said, "In that case, Ms. Collins, why don't you personally demonstrate how to brew the Draught of Living Death?"
"Of course. In fact, I'd like to compete with you." Lily's tone was calm. "If I brew it faster than you, does that mean Mr. Snape can confidently entrust the substitute teaching work to me?"
The students all began cheering excitedly.
The old bat snorted. "Trying to show off? You won't get your wish."
The witch drew her wand and casually waved it, and two worktables moved into place before them.
"Shall we begin?"
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.