"This isn't fair! Your answers were completely correct—that should have earned at least one house point!" Hermione was still muttering indignantly after collecting their group's potion ingredients. Having already earned seven or eight points for Gryffindor in other classes, she was eager to see her friend receive recognition as well.
But Orli was content enough—in Snape's class, she considered it a victory just to avoid losing points. At the moment, he was prowling around the classroom, criticizing everyone he laid eyes on. Ron and Neville got the worst of it—Neville's hands were shaking so badly he could barely cut the nettle leaves, nearly slicing off his own fingernail.
Orli focused on grinding snake fangs in her mortar while Hermione lit their fire. Snape paused briefly at their table but, finding nothing to criticize, moved on to Crabbe and Goyle's station—where his scolding voice soon rang out.
Only Malfoy received public praise, twice in fact, with Snape even instructing the class to follow his example.
Neville eventually managed to melt his cauldron, sending caustic Boil-Cure Potion splashing across the Gryffindor section and causing chaos. Orli, having anticipated this, immediately pulled Hermione onto their desk while lifting their own cauldron away from the fire.
"You idiot boy!" Snape roared as he rushed over, clearing away the mess with a wave of his wand.
"I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?!"
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Neville began whimpering as angry red boils started appearing where the potion had splashed him. Snape had no choice but to send him to the hospital wing with Seamus.
"You—Potter—why didn't you tell him not to add the quills?" Snape rounded on Harry and Ron, who were at the table next to Neville's.
"Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor!"
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron. Harry pressed his lips together, and both remained still.
While Orli was watching Harry's situation, completely off guard, Snape suddenly whirled around and fixed his gaze on her:
"And you, Waters—it seems your potions knowledge is merely a tool for showing off, rather than something you'd deign to use helping your classmates, isn't it? Another point from Gryffindor!"
Orli clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stare at her feet and resist the urge to talk back.
She was three tables away from Neville—was she supposed to shout across the classroom, "Neville! Put down those porcupine quills!"?
During the final hour of class, all the Gryffindors worked under a dark cloud of tension. At least Orli and Hermione managed to complete their Boil-Cure Potion successfully.
Looking at their vial, Orli sighed disappointedly. The potion wasn't perfect—just a dull green color with no silver sheen, indicating substandard potency.
Hermione triple-checked their textbook, confirming they'd followed every step correctly, yet their final product still didn't match the ideal description.
"This defies logic. According to the textbook, after completion, the potion should be bright green with silver ripples..." Hermione stared at their assignment, completely puzzled.
"Oh, give it a rest," Ron grumbled, thinking Hermione was just showing off.
Despite their best efforts to salvage it, Harry and Ron's potion had congealed into an indescribable mud-colored substance, emanating a noxious odor reminiscent of damp, moldy socks. It was clearly the antithesis of a proper Boil-Cure Potion.