CHAPTER EIGHT
“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?”
Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold
eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did
Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Mag-
ical Herbs and Fungi?
Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand.
“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfs-
bane?”
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the
dungeon ceiling.
“I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does,
though, why don’t you try her?”
A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus’s eye, and Seamus
winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.
“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information,
Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so power-
ful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone
taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most
poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant,
which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all
copying that down?”
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over
the noise, Snape said, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor
House for your cheek, Potter.”
Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson
continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up
a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black
cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs,
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