Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend

The high vantage point made Hermione a bit unsteady, but after a couple of adjustments, she couldn't help but show signs of nervousness, which made the passing Professor McGonagall think she was truly ill.

Professor McGonagall showed some concern.

Hermione was incredibly nervous.

Luckily, Professor McGonagall didn't become suspicious. After all, her behavior of lurking in the shadows perfectly matched Snape's persona, although their reasons for hiding in the shadows were different.

She sighed, pushed open the door, and walked in.

"Today's lesson is on Vitality Tonic," she muttered to herself, flipping through the notebook in her hand, trying her best to impersonate a stern and severe tone, "Please turn your textbooks to page 89."

She had already gone through this impersonation twice with great poise.

Yet, the upper-year students were taken aback.

They looked up at the seemingly more taciturn-than-usual Professor Snape, exchanging glances with each other.

"Why is he so...quiet today?"

"No scolding, seems like his new potion research succeeded."

"Yeah, by now he should've been routinely insulting me."

...

Needless to say.

The upper-year students knew Snape better than the younger ones.

Feeling uneasy inside.

Hermione paid no attention to the murmurs, merely reciting the contents of the notes verbatim.

She was very well aware that, although smart, she wasn't a true master of magic potions. When facing questions from the younger students, she could barely rely on her knowledge to cope.

But as the course progressed to the higher years, the situation became tricky. Fortunately, the fifth-year students were all studying diligently for exams and only encountered issues when the practical brewing of potions began.

At first.

Hermione was deeply concerned about this.

Not sure how to guide these senior students.

However.

She soon realized that Snape seemed to have anticipated this. The notebook he gave her was not just lecture notes but a complete teaching system—every page, every line predicted the students' questions and mistakes, even the tiniest errors they might make were recorded, with corrections provided.

It was as if the notebook predicted the errors each student in the fifth year might make, how to guide them, and this left Hermione stunned. She continued teaching from the third to the reserve to the seventh year. Each time a difficult problem arose, she just needed to open the notebook to find the answer.

As the course advanced, Hermione increasingly realized Snape's strength was beyond imagination. No matter the year or the student, any potential problem during potion brewing was meticulously recorded in the notebook. Even details like a student tending to have shaky hands or another liking to sneak in extra ingredients were mentioned.

Indeed.

Not just theory, but experimental steps, common mistakes, even the students' names and their habitual errors were included.

"Peach will cut the Mandrake Root too thick today."

"Weasley's cauldron will emit purple smoke at the third step."

"Ireland will forget to stir in the correct direction, causing the potion to spoil."

"These two demolitions experts should be expelled immediately."

...

Yes.

Detailed predictions to the minutest detail.

Hermione could hardly believe her eyes. She finally understood why Snape could always spot who did something wrong at a glance, without even needing to check their cauldrons.

He had known they would make a mistake all along!

Hermione now had a new understanding of her Professor of Potions and, gazing at the heavy notebook in her hand, felt a touch of respect for Snape for the first time.

What is a master of magic potions?

This is it.

Hermione thus recognized the true prestige of a professor at Hogwarts. Being a professor wasn't just about imparting knowledge but understanding each student, predicting their behaviors, and preparing responses in advance. This level of control is almost as awe-inspiring as magic itself.

"This is truly incredible!"

As the day's class ended, Hermione closed the notebook wearily and rubbed her forehead.

Her throat was somewhat hoarse from mimicking Snape's deep voice for so long, and her feet ached slightly from standing all day. She suddenly realized she had only ever seen Snape's strict side before, never considering the dedication and insight behind it.

It should be said that every professor is like this. A professor is responsible for seven grades, four different houses' courses, which is far busier than the students by a long margin.

One or two days are manageable.

The day-to-day perseverance truly demands admiration.

"Indeed, only after experiencing it can you understand how tough the profession of teaching is," Hermione thought as she dragged her feet toward the office, recalling the students' expressions in class earlier.

"Luckily, Ron and Neville didn't cause trouble this afternoon." She muttered, feeling a bit relieved, "Otherwise, I don't know how I'd handle it."

It's true she was grateful that Ron and Neville didn't bother her today, nor did they cause any trouble, which slightly surprised her since she expected Ron and Neville to hold her back significantly.

"Looks like they did understand the hint I gave." With this thought, Hermione looked at her two friends with new eyes, but when she opened the door, the scene before her left her frozen.

Snape was hanging upside down with a wand pointed at two people bound hand and foot—Ron and Neville. Yes, these two boys did sneak into Snape's office.

Only.

They didn't manage to rescue Hermione, but they did discover the truth, and because they discovered the truth, they missed a day of classes. How could Snape allow two Gryffindor students, even more talkative than Hermione, to leave his office after finding out his situation? He promptly gave the two students a binding experience.

As a reward for these boys' "curiosity," Ron and Neville were wrapped tightly in magic ropes, with smelly socks, undoubtedly Snape's, stuffed in their mouths.

Of course.

These were surely conjured.

The foul smell was a result of the Transformation technique.

No bacteria involved, yet not clean or hygienic, Snape clearly intended to teach the two a lesson, with the stench so overwhelming that Hermione didn't dare to approach her two friends.

Friends are precious.

But keeping her hands clean is more important.

"Why are they here!"

Hermione stared at her two friends, Neville and Ron, who were wriggling on the ground like fish caught ashore, and she hesitated to approach.

"Isn't that a question I should be asking you, Miss Hermione Granger?" The real Snape was still hanging upside down in the middle of the office, his voice as cold as ice.

"These two idiots picked the lock and walked right in, not even knowing the Unlocking Spell—can't you even manage your friends?" Snape truly loathed Neville and Ron.

They represent the rich tradition of Gryffindor.

"They...have too much curiosity..."

Hermione felt a bit ashamed; she knew her acting was poor, and her two friends didn't pick up on her hints, resulting in this awkward situation.

"That's why Gryffindor students have such short lifespans, I hope you're a wise Gryffindor, one who can hold their tongue and not reveal anything."

Snape sneered.

His black eyes glinting dangerously.

"Of course not."

Hermione responded quickly.

"Good, here's the antidote."

Snape moved a candy toward Hermione.

Without questioning, Hermione hastily consumed the so-called antidote.

"So, I won't turn into a toad, right?"

Hermione exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Not for now."

Snape never bothered to prepare his lies.

And just then.

As Hermione was about to ask Snape how he planned to deal with her two friends.

"Knock knock~"

There was a knock at the door.

"Who is it!?"

Both Snape and Hermione tensed up.

"It's me, Professor Snape, I'd like to discuss some interesting topics," came Lockhart's distinctive voice, accompanied by a cheerful but anxiety-inducing chuckle.

At least Hermione felt anxious.

She remembered her little slip-up in the afternoon.