Unlike her other subjects, Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only class Ariana genuinely despised.
On that fateful day, knowing nothing of what was to come, she had strolled into the classroom just as she did for every other subject.
She had skillfully snagged the desk right in the front row, directly center and closest to the podium, waiting with eager anticipation for the professor to arrive.
A Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts—the title alone sounded like someone with serious combat power.
And combat power he certainly had.
The moment that damned professor stepped inside, the thick, suffocating stench of garlic clinging to him—so heavy it was practically tangible—slapped her straight across the face!
Her head spun on the spot, and she nearly fainted right then and there.
When she finally pulled herself together, all she saw was that massive, foul-smelling purple turban swaying right in front of her.
Just looking at it made her eyes sting.
By the end of the lesson, she felt as though her very soul had been brutally pummeled by some dark, evil force.
Truly horrifying!
For once, she didn’t use her lunch break that day to find an empty classroom to review lessons or practice Transfiguration.
Instead, she took a nap in the Gryffindor common room—she didn’t even dare go back to her own dormitory.
Drenched in the smell of garlic, how could she possibly bring herself to touch her sweet-smelling bed!
By comparison, even dry, tedious History of Magic seemed downright adorable.
At least the ghost professor didn’t stink!
Professor Snape, whom she had felt the most drawn to during the start-of-term feast, taught Potions, and their first lesson wasn’t until Friday.
Traumatized by Professor Quirrell, Ariana hesitated for a long time when picking a seat.
At the feast, Professor Snape had sat right next to Professor Quirrell and chatted with him.
What was that saying again?
Birds of a feather flock together.
In the end, she steeled her heart and sat in the desk closest to the podium anyway.
A Potions teacher shouldn’t need garlic to ward off zombies…
right?
He was basically logistics support, not someone heading off to the front lines!
Her initial impression of this black-haired, dark-eyed professor had been exceptionally high, after all.
The arched door slammed open with a heavy thud, and Snape strode into the room, his black robes billowing behind him in his wake like a snapping banner.
Ariana immediately flared her nostrils, cautiously sniffing the incoming air.
Perfect—no garlic.
Her tense nerves instantly relaxed.
Her favorability toward this teacher zoomed straight back to full and climbed another notch.
So when Snape called out her name during roll call, she responded at once in a loud, energetic, and joyful voice: “PRESENT!” Her shout practically echoed off the walls of the dungeon classroom.
Snape’s voice paused for a fraction of a second.
Ariana, whose back was already straight as a board, sat up even taller, her eyes shining bright as lightbulbs.
Snape coldly shifted his gaze away.
After calling the last name, he spoke in a low, silk-smooth voice: “There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class—” Ariana nodded, tucked her wand safely away, and pressed her lips tightly together.
“As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making.
However, for those few select, gifted individuals—” At this, his gaze flicked toward Malfoy over in Slytherin.
Ariana, who had been fixedly watching this formidable-looking teacher, was not pleased.
She quietly wiggled her rear and shifted her body, blocking his line of sight in that direction.
She was sitting right in the center of the front row, so her movement genuinely managed to block him.
*Professor, look at me!
Look at me!
I can be a top student too!
I’m way smarter than that shiny lightbulb-head!* Her eyes shone brightly, brimming with competitive pride.
Snape’s mouth seemed to twitch faintly at having his vision obstructed.
He averted his eyes in utter disgust, looking as though he had just spotted a giant slug slithering toward him.
“I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—” Snape’s lingering words drifted through the classroom like heavy silk.
Harry turned to look at Ron, satisfied to see the same awe-struck expression reflected in his friend’s eyes, before turning to look at Ariana.
To his absolute terror, he found Ariana looking intensely thrilled.
Her obsidian-black eyes were practically firing lasers, and her pupils looked like they had turned into heart shapes.
Harry pulled off his glasses and wiped them furiously.
Had he finally gone blind?
Ariana truly, deeply admired Snape.
Listen to that!
Fame, glory, immortality!
She loved every single one of those things!
She wanted every single one!
How powerful must Professor Snape be to offer them all of that!
She adored powerful people!
As a result, even his dark, scowling face was automatically filtered through a glamorous lens in her eyes.
So what if he didn’t give them a friendly smile?
For someone so incredible, wasn’t it completely normal to hold no patience for clueless brats like them?
When someone possessed that much skill, what was wrong with being a little eccentric and difficult?
Wasn’t the whole point of striving to become stronger so that you could unleash your temper without caring what anyone else thought?
How amazing it must feel to have everyone dislike you yet be forced to endure you!
A real personality—she liked him even more now!
Ariana felt as though she had just discovered her true goal in life.
Sensing a gaze from behind, she tilted her head.
Oh, it was Harry.
She didn’t even bother giving him a second glance right now.
Like a sunflower finding the sun, she turned her radiant, beaming face right back toward Snape.
Harry’s eyes widened until they were almost as large as his round glasses.
He abruptly snapped his head up to look at Snape, who stood with crossed arms and a scowl that practically screamed “danger,” and then looked back at Ariana, whose head was turned straight ahead but whose curved cheek still betrayed her overflowing joy.
Harry couldn’t help but shudder.
“Ah, yes,” Snape said softly, drawling his words.
“Clearly, some of you haven’t been paying attention.
Our new—celebrity, Harry Potter!” On the final word, his volume suddenly soared into a sharp bark: “Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Startled into a jump, Harry stood up, his eyes widening as he darted a glance toward Ariana—she, along with Hermione beside her, already had their hands thrust high into the air, straight as two young poplar trees.
Wait!
He actually knew this answer!
He had secretly flipped through his textbook after Ariana stumped Malfoy with it on the train!
“A—a sleeping potion so powerful it’s known as the Draught of Living Death…
is that right, sir?” Snape gave no confirmation, asking expressionlessly, “Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?” Harry’s eyes drifted toward Ariana again—she had asked this one too!
On the boats!
No wonder she liked Snape so much; the two of them shared an eerie wavelength.
Perhaps because Harry had been staring a bit too long, Snape’s gaze followed his line of sight forward—colliding directly with Ariana’s.
Ever since Snape had prowled over to Harry’s side, Ariana had been tracking him like a sunflower following the sun.
Meeting her teacher’s gaze, she raised her hand even higher with frantic enthusiasm: *Professor!
Pick me, pick me!
I know it all!
I even know which page of the textbook it’s on!!* Snape let out a cold sneer.
“What’s the matter, Potter?
Does our famous celebrity need his classmate to answer such a simple question for him?” “Oh, no, Professor,” Harry snapped back to reality and said.
“I know.
In the stomach of a goat.” Ariana slowly lowered her hand and slapped herself across the cheek in sheer frustration.
Harry hadn’t known the answer back on the train; he only knew it because she had asked it!
Damn it!
Why did she have to run her big mouth!
Otherwise, the one shining in front of Professor Snape right now would have been her.
It was the very first question of their first class!
She could have left such a great impression!
Ariana was consumed by bitter regret.
Yet it didn’t seem as though Snape held any better impression of Harry just because he answered correctly.
A look came over his face like he had just swallowed a fly—the sheer annoyance of a hunter who had confidently dug a pitfall trap, only to watch a wild piglet walk right past it.
“Sit down!” he barked at Harry, his cold, dark gaze sweeping menacingly around the room.
“And why aren’t you all copying this down?” The students instantly ducked their heads in unison, the classroom suddenly resembling a field of mature, heavy wheat bowing in the wind.
A rustling sound of quills scratching on parchment erupted, like a breeze sweeping across the crops.
After the theory came the practical portion: brewing a potion to cure boils.
Ariana threw herself into it with utmost seriousness.
She committed all the instructions on the blackboard to memory first, softly reciting them twice to ensure she hadn’t missed a single detail before she dared to begin.
Cutting the dried nettles into equal segments and weighing them was child’s play for Ariana.
At the orphanage, they occasionally received fruit, and when dealing with such rare delicacies, you had to be scrupulously fair when dividing them among the children.
The other kids would scrutinize every single piece from every conceivable angle to compare sizes.
If there was even the slightest imbalance, they would squawk louder than the rooster in the backyard, rolling and flailing on the floor.
Unfortunately, Ariana had been the one tasked with that head-splitting chore.
So when Snape—having criticized almost the entire class—glided over to her like a specter, Hermione stiffened beside her, but Ariana proudly raised her chin, waiting eagerly for praise.
No praise came.
Snape swept a cold, indifferent glance over the ingredients on her desk, then turned and glided away without a word.
It took Ariana less than a second to rationalize it: *Well, of course!
In the eyes of a Potions Master, basic stuff like this isn’t even worth mentioning.* Besides, he had yelled at everyone else, but he hadn’t scolded her or picked on her work.
That meant her progress so far was completely acceptable in his eyes.
Her steps met the standards of a notoriously picky Potions Master!
Ariana successfully talked herself into a state of sheer delight.
Beaming, she crushed snake fangs and steamed horned slugs—and then she heard Snape praising Malfoy.
Her eyes snapped over, glaring furiously.
Malfoy, who had puffed his chest out proudly at the praise, instinctively cowered a bit under Ariana’s terrifying glare.
Then, feeling he had lost face, he snapped his chest out even farther.
Ariana couldn’t care less whether the frame of that platinum lightbulb was convex or concave.
Her large eyes scanned like spotlights, locking onto the horned slugs near Malfoy’s hand and his technique at the cauldron.
Alright, his method was indeed slightly different.
It seemed these old wizarding families really did give their kids some pre-school tutoring.
Ariana wasn’t arrogant enough to think she was the undisputed best at everything.
When others demonstrated a genuine advantage, she was more than willing to learn from them.
—Though she remained supreme in her confidence that these people were merely ahead because they had been exposed to the knowledge earlier.
Once she mastered it, she wouldn’t be second to anyone!
Carefully adopting Malfoy’s handling method for the horned slugs, she steamed them, added them, took the cauldron off the fire, and added the porcupine quills.
The potion began emitting a light pink smoke, exactly as described in the book, and the liquid gradually turned a pale blue.
It was fairly perfect—especially compared to the muddy sludge in Harry’s cauldron.
However, she pursed her lips, not entirely satisfied.
She felt the color was slightly paler than the standard shade shown in the textbook.
Why?
Recalling her steps, she wondered if it was because she had processed the first batch of slugs using her own method and the second batch using Malfoy’s, dumping two slightly different preparations into the cauldron together.
She decided to make a second batch from scratch.
Just as she was pondering this, a thick plume of smoke suddenly exploded across the classroom.
Ariana’s instincts kicked in, and she instantly scrambled up onto her desk.
Neville had added the porcupine quills before taking his cauldron off the fire.
The potion was spurting out like a geyser, drenching him completely and causing nasty red boils to pop up all over his skin.
Ariana had no time to feel sorry for him right now.
Neville was sitting directly behind her, and the caustic liquid spraying frantically out of his cauldron was flying straight toward her—and worse, toward *her* cauldron!
Her assignment!
Her grade!
With the remaining time, she might not finish a second batch, and they had to turn in their potions for grading at the end of class!
Even if it killed her, even if she had to jump off a cliff, she refused to get a zero!
Driven to absolute desperation, Ariana grabbed her own cauldron in a flash, leapt off her desk, and bounded straight onto the professor’s podium table!
Standing on the podium, she suddenly towered over the rest of the class.
A collective gasp swept through the room below, as if everyone’s cauldrons had exploded like Neville’s at that exact moment.
Snape vanished the spilled potion from the floor with a wave of his wand, roared at Neville, ordered someone to take him to the hospital wing, deducted a point from Gryffindor via Harry, and then turned around—only to lock eyes with Ariana, who was standing on the podium table holding her cauldron, looking intensely flushed and excited.
“Miss Ritchie,” he hissed softly, and before Ariana could react, his volume boomed, “are you demonstrating your dissatisfaction with me?
*GET DOWN!*” “For disrespecting a professor, another point from Gryffindor!” Ariana, who had just been admiring Snape’s fluid, magnificent efficiency in cleaning up the mess, secretly trying to learn how to scowl and shout with such grand authority, blinked in utter shock.
*…HUH???*