Murphy's Law states: If anything can go wrong, it will—regardless of how minuscule the possibility might be.
Orli's foreboding quickly materialized into reality.
After completing the roll call, Snape launched into his signature monologue—about bottling fame, brewing glory, and even putting a stopper in death.
In her previous life, this speech had left a deep impression on Orli. Now, combined with her profound love for potions, these words, delivered in that deep London baritone, struck a perfect chord within her.
Had she not been publicly mocked moments before for no apparent reason, she might have even applauded Snape's speech. Unfortunately, most of her mental energy was now devoted to wondering what she had done to irritate the old bat.
Beside her, Hermione appeared equally captivated by the speech—perched precariously on the edge of her seat, spine ruler-straight, as if this posture alone could prove she wasn't one of the dunderheads Snape had mentioned.
"Potter!" Snape spat the name as if it were venom. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
With that spray-laden "Potter," the main performance had finally begun.
Orli tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, creating a stark contrast with Hermione, who had thrust her hand skyward beside her.
"I don't know, sir," Harry mumbled from his seat in front of Orli.
"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Hermione's hand looked ready to detach from her shoulder. If there existed a spell for it, Orli had no doubt Hermione would have made her arm float to the ceiling like a balloon.
"I don't know, sir."
The Malfoy trio was now trembling with barely suppressed laughter.
Watching Harry's dejected back, Orli genuinely wanted to whisper some hints to him. But as if reading her thoughts, Snape fixed her with a piercing glare, and she immediately froze.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
As Snape pressed on relentlessly, Hermione... by Merlin, she had completely stood up now, transforming herself into a miniature Statue of Liberty.
Harry finally snapped: "I don't know. But Hermione seems to know, why don't you try asking her?"
Snape glared venomously at Harry, then shifted his gaze to Hermione, before suddenly turning to Orli and fixing his stare upon her.
Orli knew that look all too well—it was the telltale sign of a teacher about to make a random call. Her heart began pounding frantically, her palms growing clammy.
Sure enough, the next moment, Snape called her name: "Perhaps Miss Waters isn't as incompetent as our celebrity? Answer these three questions!"
Orli reluctantly rose from her chair. Harry and Ron turned to give her sympathetic looks, while Hermione beside her seemed desperate to somehow transfer her knowledge directly into Orli's mouth.
Taking a deep breath, Orli fixed her gaze on a wall sconce, pretending Snape didn't exist, and answered as steadily as she could:
"Asphodel powder added to wormwood infusion is... a step in brewing the Draught of Living Death... a bezoar is found in a goat's stomach and serves as an antidote... and as for monkshood and wolfsbane, they're... yes, they're simply different names for the same plant."
Finally finished, Orli exhaled slowly, feeling as if her nails had nearly pierced her palms.
Harry gave her a subtle thumbs-up, while Ron looked as if he was seeing her in a new light. Hermione seemed slightly disappointed that she hadn't been the one to answer, but still gave Orli's hand an approving pat under the desk.
However, their expressions quickly morphed into indignation: Snape deducted a point from Gryffindor for Harry's cheek, while completely ignoring Orli's correct answers—he simply returned to his podium and began distributing ingredients for the Boil-Cure Potion, showing not the slightest intention of awarding any points.