The rest of the lesson was devoted to brewing.
Snape paired the students off and assigned them their stations with military efficiency.
Unsurprisingly, he made absolutely certain that Hermione Granger ended up nowhere near Harry Potter.
Instead, she was seated beside Alvin.
Across the room, Michael Corner was shifted to another table, while Lavender Brown inherited his former seat.
Alvin glanced at his new partner.
Hermione’s famously untamable hair already resembled a small thundercloud, threatening to expand in all directions at once.
Yet there was no mistaking the sharp intelligence in her eyes.
Or the determination.
Her slightly oversized front teeth softened her features, making her look younger than she really was.
Cute.
Dangerously competitive.
But undeniably cute.
Alvin gave her a polite nod before turning his attention to the ingredients spread across the table.
Potions first.
Everything else later.
Hermione, however, seemed distracted.
Several times she looked as though she wanted to say something, only to stop herself.
Eventually, curiosity won.
“Alvin Gaunt.” He looked up.
“Yes?” “Did you attend Garden Primary School?” For the first time that lesson, Alvin looked genuinely surprised.
“I did.” “How do you know that?” Hermione visibly relaxed.
As though she had finally confirmed something she’d been wondering about since arriving at Hogwarts.
“I knew it.” “I thought so during the Sorting Ceremony.” Then she extended her hand.
“I’m Hermione Granger.” “We went to the same primary school.” Alvin blinked.
“What?” Hermione nodded.
“I was in Class Four.” “You were practically famous.” “The boy who barely ever showed up to school.” “But somehow still got perfect marks in everything.” Understanding dawned immediately.
Of course.
During those years, he’d spent most of his time focused on building his future, investing, and making money.
School had been little more than a formality.
Which explained why he hadn’t recognized Hermione.
If he’d known they attended the same school…
Well.
Some thoughts were best left unfinished.
Alvin accepted her handshake.
“It’s nice to properly meet you, Hermione.” “Apparently Hogwarts isn’t the first place our paths have crossed.” Hermione smiled.
For approximately two seconds.
Then she transformed back into Hermione Granger.
Academic Menace.
“You beat me in every subject at primary school.” She pointed at him.
“But things are different now.” “At Hogwarts, I’m going to surpass you.” The declaration carried the weight of a formal challenge.
Alvin couldn’t help smiling.
Some things never changed.
“Professor Snape might disagree,” he said.
Hermione opened her mouth.
A familiar voice interrupted before she could respond.
“Mr.
Gaunt.” Snape appeared beside their table so suddenly that he might as well have materialized from the shadows.
“If I were you, I would devote less attention to charming your classmates and more attention to adding powdered snake fangs to your cauldron.” Hermione immediately turned bright red.
Alvin remained perfectly calm.
Years of experience dealing with difficult people had left him with remarkably thick skin.
“Of course, Professor.” He calmly added the ingredient and resumed stirring.
Snape watched him for a moment.
Waiting.
Perhaps hoping for embarrassment.
Or panic.
Or any reaction whatsoever.
When none appeared, he eventually moved on.
Toward Harry Potter.
Like a shark that had detected blood in the water.
Poor Harry never stood a chance.
An hour later, the lesson finally ended.
Students flooded out of the dungeon looking exhausted.
None more so than Harry Potter.
The boy resembled a survivor of some magical natural disaster.
During a single class period, Snape had criticized nearly every aspect of his existence.
At one point, Harry had even managed to lose Gryffindor five points.
The expression on his face afterward suggested his soul had briefly left his body.
Most students escaped as quickly as possible.
Alvin stayed behind.
Watching Harry’s suffering had convinced him of something.
It was time to clear the air.
He had no intention of spending the next seven years being quietly hunted by a resentful Potions Master.
Better to deal with the problem now.
Snape was cleaning equipment when he noticed Alvin still standing there.
“Mr.
Gaunt.” His voice carried all the warmth of an iceberg.
“I believe the lesson has ended.” “Unless your objective is detention.” Alvin resisted the urge to sigh.
The man truly was incapable of ordinary conversation.
“Professor.” “I was hoping we could talk.” Silence.
Snape folded his arms.
Waiting.
Judging.
Possibly preparing a devastating insult.
Alvin pressed on.
“First, I’d like to apologize.” A flicker of surprise crossed Snape’s face.
Gone so quickly it might have been imaginary.
“The Sorting Ceremony didn’t exactly go as expected.” That was perhaps the understatement of the century.
“The Sorting Hat made its decision rather quickly.” Snape remained silent.
Listening.
“Professor, you’ve already pointed out something important.” “I’m a Gaunt.” “But I’m also a half-blood.” His expression grew more serious.
“I’ve learned enough about Slytherin House to understand that some students wouldn’t be particularly welcoming.” “Ravenclaw was the better choice.” “For me.” “And probably for Slytherin as well.” When he finished, silence returned.
The dungeon seemed strangely still.
The ticking of a nearby clock sounded unusually loud.
Several seconds passed.
Then nearly a minute.
Finally, Snape spoke.
“Mr.
Gaunt.” His expression remained unreadable.
“There are matters that can end here.” Alvin waited.
“But the behavior of certain students is not entirely within my control.” “Even as Head of House.” That was enough.
More than enough.
Alvin understood exactly what he meant.
Snape would not hold a grudge.
That did not mean every Slytherin would forget the incident.
Fair enough.
“I appreciate that, Professor.” Alvin nodded.
“Your opinion was the only one that concerned me.” For the first time, Snape looked faintly uncomfortable.
Almost as though he wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Then I’ll take my leave.” Alvin offered a respectful nod and headed for the door.
The dungeon fell quiet again after it closed behind him.
Snape remained standing where he was.
Alone.
Motionless.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then, barely above a whisper— “If I had been like that…” His gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the dungeon walls.
“To speak when it mattered.” “To act when it mattered.” A shadow of regret crossed his face.
“Lily…” Two tiny droplets gathered at the corners of his eyes.
No one was there to witness them.
Meanwhile, Alvin’s afternoon took a considerably stranger turn.
Mainly because Fred and George Weasley ambushed him between classes.
“Good afternoon, Lord Gaunt!” The twins executed exaggerated bows.
Alvin rolled his eyes.
“Please stop calling me that.” “Impossible.” “Completely impossible.” The twins grinned.
Fred threw an arm around Alvin’s shoulders.
“We have a proposition.” “A prestigious invitation,” George corrected.
“A historic opportunity.” “A legendary event.” “A midnight adventure.” Both twins leaned in conspiratorially.
“Saturday.” “Midnight.” “Fourth-floor corridor.” “Be there.” Alvin narrowed his eyes.
That sounded suspicious.
Which, coming from Fred and George, practically guaranteed trouble.
Still…
Curiosity was a powerful force.
“Fine.” “I’ll come.” The twins immediately looked delighted.
Mission accomplished.
Without another word, they wandered away together, already discussing something that sounded profoundly illegal.
Alvin watched them disappear around a corner.
Then continued toward lunch.
The meal itself passed quickly.
His afternoon schedule included History of Magic.
Which unfortunately meant Professor Binns.
The ghost.
The legend.
The single greatest weapon against human consciousness ever created.
Ten minutes into the lecture, Alvin lost the battle.
Completely.
One moment he was listening.
The next, he was asleep.
Not drifting.
Not drowsy.
Fully asleep.
Across the room, Hermione Granger noticed.
The look she gave him radiated pure disappointment.
Academic disappointment.
The most terrifying kind.
Alvin slept through it.
At that same moment, far above the castle, two men sat facing one another in the Headmaster’s Office.
Albus Dumbledore.
And Severus Snape.
A pot of tea rested untouched between them.
Neither wizard seemed interested in drinking it.
The subject of their conversation had already been decided.
A certain first-year Ravenclaw named Alvin Gaunt.
And neither man was taking the matter lightly.