[Revisions: Tuesday, July 16, 2024]

Basil and his friends went to the dungeons for their first Potions class. The air was cool and damp, starkly contrasting to the rest of the castle. As they entered the classroom, they saw that the Gryffindors had arrived, looking sullen after their encounter with Professor McGonagall.

Basil noticed Harry sitting with Ron. Harry's eyes met his briefly before looking away. The tension between the two brothers was noticeable, and Basil couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.

Professor Snape swept into the room, his robes billowing behind him like a dark cloud. He moved to the front of the class and turned to face them, his expression stern.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began, his voice silky and soft, yet it commanded attention. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..."

The room was silent, all eyes fixed on Snape. He continued, "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stop death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Basil felt a shiver run down his spine. He was eager to learn, but the intensity of Snape's words made him anxious. He glanced at his friends, who looked equally apprehensive.

"For your first year, you will learn simple yet essential potions such as the Cure for Boils, the Swelling Solution, and the Wiggenweld Potion. These potions might seem basic, but mastering them is crucial for your progress in this art," Snape continued, his eyes sweeping the room.

His gaze lingered on Harry, and something dark flickered across Snape's face. Basil knew his Head of House had a history with the Potters, specifically his mother, Lily, but he hadn't realized the depth of Snape's resentment until now.

"Mr. Harry Potter!" Snape snapped, his eyes focused on Harry, causing the boy to jump. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's eyes widened in panic. He hadn't read the Potions textbook over the summer, thinking it wasn't necessary. He glanced at Ron, who looked just as clueless.

"I don't know, sir," Harry mumbled, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Snape's lip curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything."

Harry's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. Snape wasn't finished.

"Let's try again. Mr. Harry Potter, where would you find a bezoar?"

Harry's mind went blank. He knew he had seen the word somewhere in his textbooks but couldn't recall the details. "I don't know, sir," he repeated, feeling even more humiliated.

Snape's sneer deepened. "And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry stared at Snape, feeling utterly lost. He couldn't bring himself to answer, shaking his head slightly.

"Thought not," Snape said with a cold smile. "Clearly, you've been too busy being a celebrity to bother reading your textbooks."

Harry's ears burned with shame. He glanced at Basil, who was looking at him with sympathy.

Snape turned his gaze to Basil. "Mr. Basil Potter, same questions."

Basil straightened up, recalling the information he had diligently studied over the summer. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and can save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name aconite."

"Correct," Snape said, his tone softer yet still firm. "Ten points to Slytherin."

The Slytherins smiled and nodded approvingly at Basil while Harry's face fell even further.

"Take note of these responses," Snape ordered, his gaze sweeping over the class. "You will all be expected to know these answers."

As the students scribbled furiously in their notebooks, Snape continued, "For homework, you are to read about the Cure for Boils potion. I expect you to know how to prepare it."

Basil glanced at Harry, who was writing slowly, his face still red with shame. Basil felt a pang of guilt but knew he couldn't help his brother if Harry refused to study the subject.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson. As they packed up, Basil approached Harry.

"Harry, you should have read the Potions textbook. It's essential," Basil said softly, trying to bridge the gap between them.

Harry looked at him, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. "Why is he so harsh on me and not you?" he asked, his voice low.

Basil sighed. "I think it's more complicated than just Potions. But you can't let it get to you. We need to stick together."

Harry nodded slightly, though he didn't look entirely convinced.

The Potion classroom was eerily quiet after the last student had filed out. Basil lingered, his thoughts troubled by the tension between his younger brother and Professor Snape. He had told Draco and the others he'd meet them in the Great Hall for lunch, but he couldn't leave without seeking answers.

Taking a deep breath, Basil approached Snape, who was busy tidying up his desk.

"Professor Snape," Basil began hesitantly, "may I have a word?"

Snape looked up, his expression softening slightly when he saw who it was. "Of course, Basil. What's on your mind?"

Basil hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I wanted to ask why you were so harsh on Harry. I know he didn't read the textbook, but it seemed... personal."

Snape's eyes flickered with annoyance, regret, and sorrow. He sighed, leaning against his desk and folding his arms.

"You're perceptive, Basil," Snape began, his tone unusually gentle. "There are a couple of reasons. First, your brother bears an uncanny resemblance to your father, James Potter. James and I... we had a complicated history at Hogwarts. He was arrogant, reckless, and often made my life difficult."

Basil nodded, listening intently. He had heard bits and pieces about his father's school days from Professor McGonagall or Hagrid but never from someone who knew him personally.

Snape continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Seeing Harry is like seeing James all over again. It's a reminder of old wounds, and sometimes, I struggle to separate the two."

Basil frowned. "But Harry's not like our father, Professor. He's different."

"I know," Snape admitted quietly. "But the resemblance is hard to ignore. And then there's the matter of how he treated you in the courtyard. I don't tolerate disrespect, especially not towards you."

Basil's eyes widened in surprise. "You immediately came to the courtyard to defend me?"

Snape nodded, his expression softening further. "Yes, Basil. You're my student; as I mentioned before, you are so much like your mother, Lily. She was kind, intelligent, and always stood up for what was right. I see so much of her in you."

A lump formed in Basil's throat. He had always known Snape was stern, but hearing these words made him see his Professor in a new light.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Professor," Basil said quietly. "But Harry and I... we need to figure things out together. I don't want him to feel like I'm the reason he's being mistreated."

Snape studied Basil for a moment before nodding. "You're right. I need to be more mindful of my actions. Harry deserves a fair chance, just as you do. I'll try to keep my feelings about James separate from my treatment of Harry."

Basil smiled, feeling a sense of relief. "Thank you, Professor. That means a lot to me."Snape gave him a rare, small smile. "You're welcome, Basil. Now, off you go. You don't want to miss lunch."

Basil nodded and turned to leave, feeling lighter than he had earlier. As he walked towards the Great Hall, he resolved to find a way to bridge the gap with Harry and to help his brother navigate the complexities of their new life at Hogwarts.