Oliver Evans is The Prodigy of the Heart (Book One)

Chapter Two: A Promising Summer

My first few years at Hogwarts seemed to fly by. I even managed to gain a decent amount of points to help us win the house cup for my first, second, third and fourth years. It was one of the longest house cup streaks that Hogwarts had seen, and the entire Slytherin house was not afraid to boast about winning. The faculty seemed to like me enough to ignore, (or quite possibly, forget) how my brother treated his time at the school.

I spent almost my entire time at school deep in the dungeons, practicing potions and reading my herbology book, though I wasn't able to grasp herbology as well as I had hoped. In my third year, professor Snape had invited me into his advanced potions class. I was the only third year that was asked to attend. 

Once fourth year came around, I had proven myself enough to professor Snape to gain extra access to his classroom for studying. Almost on the daily, I would sneak out of the common room late at night to go into the potions classroom. I waited until Mr. Filch did his nightly walk about; he always checked the doors near the entrance to the common room. The noise he ended up producing from door checks, allowed me to open our house door without being noticed. And I just repeated the steps on my way back in before dawn.

One night I was listening by the door, waiting to hear the approval of Mrs. Norris that the hall was clear. I heard her purrs, and knew it was time to go. Slowly, I pushed the door open. My eyes locked onto the pair of solid black oxfords that awaited me outside of the common room. Professor Snape glared down at me.

My jaw dropped, "Prof-" I coughed, tripping over my pajama bottoms and stumbling into the hallway

"Good evening, Mr. Evans." Snape said through pursed lips "Just the one I was looking for."

Snape flourished his cloak, gesturing towards the dungeon corridors. I quietly closed the door behind me and followed Snape to the potions classroom. The curtains were drawn, and the tables were scattered with frayed journals, newspaper clippings and stray loose parchment. He took a seat at his desk

"Tell me," he began, "What you were doing out of bed past curfew?"

"Well, sir, you see.."

"And please do not torture my eardrums with the creative explanation you are currently crafting."

I let out a deep breath, looking at the shelves of glass vials filled with ingredients, "I have been sneaking out to practice potions, sir."

Snape's eyebrow raised "How long have you been wandering my classroom at night?"

"Since two weeks after school started this year...since you gave me permission to use your room as a study area."

"During day time hours, Mr. Evans."

"I know. I shouldn't have abused your generosity."

"Mr. Evans, I take my role very seriously. You seem to not understand there are consequences that come with your actions." he pulled out one of his many notebooks and grabbed his quill

"What's that, sir?" I asked, anxiously

"This is my list of yearly approved students." he said, dipping his quill "The approval list for my Masters Potions class."

I froze. Masters Potions was a class for only the best potion makers in the school. Fifth years and up can be approved by Snape personally for a spot in the group. Normally, you hardly see anyone under seventh year participating in the class.

"Sir?" I bit my lip

"I had placed you as an invited guest to my instruction. However, it seems your level of maturity is far too low to be a part of my class."