What kind of magic potion is this?

At least from Snape's answers – whether or not they were all accurate – Anthony could determine that these ingredients didn't involve any dangerous Dark magic. He conceded, "How can I tell?"

"The preservation methods, of course. But you wouldn't understand that." When it came to Slytherins, Snape was clearly more forthcoming. "Which student has been receiving after-school tutoring, using this as a research topic taught by the esteemed Muggle Studies professor (he emphasized the title pointedly)?"

"Name for name, Snape. Tell me what the potion is, and I'll tell you who it is," Anthony countered.

"I don't expect you to grasp the nuances of the ratios, but even you should understand that one can't determine a potion solely from its ingredients, correct?" Snape hissed. "Tell me who it is, Anthony."

"Then a list of possible potions," Anthony insisted. "And I'll give you a name, I promise."

"You promise? Why not simply give me the name first?" Snape asked coldly.

Anthony's gaze flitted between himself and Snape, then he shrugged, suggesting a comparison of their credibility.

Snape's expression darkened further. He said icily, "If you knew the amount of work that goes into this... simple permutation..."

Anthony didn't respond directly, instead producing an empty glass vial. "Actually, I managed to capture some of the residual scent."

But he abandoned the idea as soon as he realized Snape was already brewing the potion. He doubted Snape would be able to discern anything in an office saturated with potion fumes. Snape snatched the vial, uncorked it, and sniffed deeply. A satisfied look crossed his face.

"Calming Draught."

"Calming Draught?"

"For anxiety and such... failed attempt, not prohibited at all, Anthony."

Anthony frowned. Did Tracey already require medication for anxiety?

"The name," Snape reminded him, but he no longer seemed concerned. He carefully poured the potion into a crystal vial with a long silver spoon, examining it under candlelight.

"Tracey Davis, I believe she hasn't been doing well lately. She seems to be brewing her own medicine. Please keep an eye on her," Anthony said, shaking his head helplessly. "Your house is rather challenging. Davis might need some help."

Snape turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you're referring to. In my estimation, Miss Davis is taking good care of herself."

Anthony was taken aback. "She's brewing her own anxiety medication. You consider that 'taking good care of herself'?"

Snape feigned surprise in return. "Why, has she not found a way to address her emotional struggles?"

"That's not an emotional issue, Snape. If I may be frank, whether from societal, familial, or peer pressure – both within and outside of Slytherin – many of your students are under an immense amount of stress that isn't appropriate for their age. What's wrong with Davis? She's a half-blood and not valued at home. Because of this, a first-year pureblood can—"

Snape interrupted. "Please, Anthony, don't pretend you understand Slytherin."

"I may not understand Slytherin," Anthony retorted, refusing to back down. "But I know this is dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Snape repeated smoothly. "I fail to see the danger, Professor Anthony.

Everyone is alive and well. Doesn't that satisfy your requirements?"

Anthony sighed. "Yes, being alive is important, but we can strive for better. I hope they'll still be alive in the future. If you must have me spell it out, I'm concerned that if this trend continues, your students will either end up taking their own lives or someone else's."

"I apologize, but are you blaming me?" Snape asked. "Do you want to know the mortality rate of Slytherin students before I became Head of House? Care to guess the rate since I took over?"

"I apologize for my harsh words," Anthony said quickly. "It's just... I believe I understand what a normal childhood should look like."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Very confident, aren't you?" He enunciated each word slowly, his lips barely moving. "You. Don't. Understand. Anything."

He abruptly placed the crystal vial on the table and said venomously, "What is a normal childhood like? Your mother singing lullabies to put you to sleep? Or a tooth fairy fluttering about? What do you think Hogwarts is, a daycare center?"

"Hogwarts is a school, the only magical school in Britain!" Anthony retorted. "Furthermore, it's a boarding school. It houses children from eleven to seventeen, virtually on their own, during the most formative years of their lives. If students can't find shelter and support here, where else should they turn?"

"They should look to themselves for support," Snape said dangerously. "You think you're doing a good deed, don't you? Protecting all your little chicks like a mother hen... I'm telling you, Anthony, your coddling won't work at Slytherin. We're predators. If you don't want to be devoured, you'd better adapt quickly... I see nothing wrong with Davis."

Anthony spoke slowly, "I wonder if you truly believe that..." He suddenly recalled something. "You visited Kevin's home, didn't you? Kevin Entwhistle, the new Hogwarts student for next year? Look at Kevin, Snape. That was a normal childhood."

Snape clearly remembered who he was talking about. He scoffed, "That's not normal, Anthony, that's just a lucky childhood."

Anthony frowned at him. For some reason, Snape sounded almost resentful and envious.

Snape continued angrily, "Of course, it's normal for you... I can see it. Kind and supportive parents, am I right? Always bending over backward to support and help you in everything. When something went wrong, you could just run home and wallow, then wake up and everything would be magically fixed... How arrogant, Anthony, how incredibly arrogant."

The words seemed to have been lodged in his throat for ages, now spewing forth like venom.

The viscous liquid in the half-empty cauldron beside him bubbled ominously over the low flame, turning a dark, sickly shade of blue-purple. Snape cursed under his breath and roughly knocked the cauldron aside, emptying its contents.

Anthony remained silent. Although it might differ from Snape's perception, he did believe he had a happy childhood. Despite losing his parents early on, his grandparents had done their best.

He had no reason to believe otherwise.