In truth, Snape's first words in Potions class weren't a snide remark aimed at Harry Potter, but rather his own definition of what Potions was.
[You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion‑making. As there is little foolish wand‑waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…]
Potions.
It's a magical art that can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death!
As he spoke those words, Snape's typically dark aura—for once—didn't feel all that intimidating. Perhaps it was just an illusion.
Unfortunately, this Potions class ended in a rush with Snape mocking Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom burning through his cauldron.
Looking at Snape's flustered expression and Neville sobbing on the floor after touching the failed Boil-Cure Potion, Draco let out a silent sigh.
...
For most young wizards, their first Potions class was hardly a positive experience—especially for Harry Potter, who had been mocked the entire time, and for Neville, who once again messed everything up.
In their case, it felt even worse.
Fortunately, just a few days later, the young wizards had something to look forward to—their first flying lesson.
This was the class they had been waiting for.
Humans have always shared a special bond with the sky. Wizards, being human too, naturally held a deep fascination with flight.
Though they lacked the kinds of airborne transportation muggles had invented with technology, wizards had their own magical tools and charms...
The most iconic of these, of course, was the broomstick.
And that was all because of—
Quidditch!
"You know the Ballycastle Bats, right? Their mascot, Barny the Fruitbat, is the face of the Butterbeer ads."
"No, no, no... Even though the old Chadley Cannons have fallen out of the spotlight, I still believe their golden age will come again!"
"What are you talking about? The strongest team is obviously the Falmouth Falcons!"
"Hmph! Some people like violent teams like that. If you ask me, it's all about the Holyhead Harpies. Don't forget their Seeker!"
Today, every first-year from every house seemed unusually excited. And for good reason.
Their first flying lesson at Hogwarts was about to begin—and that meant they'd finally get to ride broomsticks.
For young wizards who adored Quidditch, nothing could be more thrilling.
So from the moment morning arrived, talk of Quidditch filled the air. Anyone unfamiliar with the scene might have thought the World Cup was about to kick off.
But...
Not everyone shared in that excitement.
Those from Muggle families had never even heard of Quidditch. For them, the looming flying lesson stirred only anxiety.
After all, soaring into the sky on a broomstick? For kids who had only recently become wizards, it was still something hard to believe...
...
Broomsticks.
For Draco, who came from a noble family, they were nothing new. Though he'd never had to use one to escape a helicopter or anything like that, flying was still a basic skill every wizard was expected to master—even if they didn't plan to become a Quidditch player.
Even with more convenient and efficient ways to travel in the wizarding world, flying remained one of the few true wizarding sports. That's probably why it had become a required subject at Hogwarts.
So, as early as last year, ten-year-old Draco had already learned how to ride a broomstick at Malfoy Manor.
With that kind of experience under his belt, it was no wonder Draco showed no interest when everyone around him kept chattering about Quidditch. He wasn't even the slightest bit excited about the upcoming flying class.
Of course, it wasn't just because he'd already flown before. More than anything, Draco had no desire to idolize anyone—especially not just some Quidditch player.
"Is it really that interesting?"
It had been like this all morning. As Draco ate his lunch, he muttered to himself with a puzzled look.
"You think everyone has the same resources and privileges as we do to own and fly a broomstick?"
"And besides, you're probably the only one who isn't interested in Quidditch."
Pansy, sitting nearby, rolled her eyes at Draco's comment and gave him a sharp retort.
After all, entertainment options in the wizarding world were limited. That's why Quidditch had essentially become a national sport. It was fair to say that if you were a wizard, it was nearly impossible not to be obsessed with it.
So really, Draco was the odd one out...
"Who knows? Maybe it's just too slow for me."
"…I have no idea what you're talking about."
Pansy blinked, clearly confused by Draco's explanation.
Before she could make sense of it, Draco glanced to the side, suddenly noticing the absence of two familiar figures.
"Speaking of which, where are Goyle and Crabbe?"
"Um... over there somewhere. Who knows what those two gorillas are up to."
"Gryffindor?"
"Wanna go check it out?"
"No... never mind. It's probably nothing important."
"But the 'Know-It-All' is there too. Don't you want to see what she's doing?"
Draco glanced at Pansy's puffed cheeks and amused expression, then shook his head with a faint smile. He had no intention of interfering with whatever Goyle and Crabbe were doing...
...
"But—'Know-It-All'?"
"You don't know? ...Well, I should've guessed. Besides magical theory, you hardly pay attention to anything else."
"Hmm… Am I supposed to know?"
"..."
Faced with Draco's direct gaze, Pansy's cheeks turned red and she quickly looked away. She was precocious enough to understand what it meant to have a crush—and that kind of look from Draco was too much for her to handle.
Draco himself wasn't aware of it.
Whether it was magical knowledge or this so-called Know-It-All, his gray eyes gleamed with curiosity—for the unknown.
Blinking in confusion, Draco wasn't quite sure what was going on...
Come to think of it, Hermione's nickname had everything to do with how she always raised her hand in class to answer questions.
The thing was, she actually got all the answers right. Her responses were textbook-perfect, completely overwhelming the rest of the students in their year.
Over time, the nickname stuck—though not always in a flattering way.
But no one really noticed.
To be precise, only Draco noticed.
Every time she answered a question, that little witch would throw a smug glance his way.
Draco found it oddly amusing.
Maybe Hermione was trying to prove something to him. That's probably why she kept doing it.
But that proud little face and her stubborn refusal to back down...
In Draco's eyes, she looked just like a tiny kitten meowing at him.