Got Hisoka template in Harry Potter World - Chapter 9
Chapter 9: Classes Begin
The potions classroom smelled of preserved herbs and something darker—iron, maybe, or old blood. Jack took a seat at the back, ignoring the way the other Slytherins clustered together, leaving a conspicuous gap around him.
Snape swept in like a stormcloud, his black robes billowing behind him.
“Potions,” he began, his voice silk over steel, “is the art of precision. One misstep, and your cure becomes a poison.” His gaze flicked to Jack. “Or your ally becomes your enemy.”
Jack met his eyes without flinching.
Snape’s lip curled. “Today, you will brew a simple Cure for Boils. Instructions are on the board. Fail to follow them, and your partner will regret it.”
Daphne Greengrass stiffened beside Blaise. “Partner?”
Snape’s smile was thin. “You heard me, Miss Greengrass. Pair up. Now.”
A beat of silence. Then—
Theo Nott slid into the seat next to Jack without a word.
Daphne’s nostrils flared, but she turned away, her pride stung.
—
Jack measured the dried nettles with surgical precision, his fingers steady.
Theo watched him sidelong. “You’ve done this before.”
Jack crushed the snake fangs into powder. “First time.”
A lie. In his past life, he’d been a chemistry tutor. Reactions were reactions, whether in a beaker or a cauldron.
Snape materialized behind them, his shadow long and cold. “Stirring counterclockwise, Mr. Fletcher? A… bold choice.”
Jack didn’t look up. “The viscosity changes with direction. Clockwise thickens too fast.”
A pause. Then—
Snape leaned down, his voice a whisper only Jack could hear. “Where did you learn that?”
Jack held his gaze. “I pay attention.”
For a heartbeat, something flickered in Snape’s eyes—suspicion, intrigue, maybe both. Then he straightened. “Five points to Slytherin. For… unexpected competence.”
Theo’s eyebrows shot up. Across the room, Draco’s face twisted.
Jack’s potion simmered, perfect turquoise.
—
McGonagall’s classroom was bright and airy, a stark contrast to the dungeons.
“Transfiguration,” she announced, “is the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. It requires not just skill, but vision.”
Jack’s fingers tingled. Transmutation Nen affinity—this should be interesting.
“Today, you will attempt to turn a matchstick into a needle. Observe.”
With a flick of her wand, McGonagall’s match elongated, silvered, sharpened—
Jack didn’t wait.
“Verto.”
His match shivered, then rippled, the wood bleeding into metal, the tip honing to a vicious point.
Silence.
McGonagall picked up his needle, examining it. “…Perfect.” She looked at him, her gaze sharp. “Have you studied Transfiguration before, Mr. Fletcher?”
Jack shook his head. “Just clicked, I guess.”
A murmur ran through the class. Daphne’s eyes narrowed.
“Ten points to Slytherin,” McGonagall said, her tone unreadable.
Draco’s jaw tightened.
—
Dinner in the Great Hall was a subdued affair. Jack ate methodically, aware of the eyes on him—some curious, some hostile.
Then—
A waft of something metallic.
Jack’s head snapped up.
Quirrell, stuttering through a conversation with Flitwick, his turban slightly askew.
And beneath the garlic—blood.
Jack’s fingers tightened around his fork.
Got you.