Harry and Snape began their rounds, moving in opposite directions around the classroom. As Harry strolled past each working station, he took note of his friends' chosen potions and their methodical approaches. His presence, rather than being authoritative, was more of a silent support, a nod to his peers that he was rooting for them.

Daphne, always precise, was carefully measuring out ingredients for a Wiggenweld Potion, her movements deliberate and focused. Tracey, on the other hand, had chosen the Challenge of the Cure for Boils, her brow furrowed in concentration as she added a porcupine quill to her cauldron.

Neville, whose nervousness around potions was well-known, surprised Harry with his choice of a Forgetfulness Potion. He seemed more confident than usual, a testament to the hours of practice they had spent together. Susan and Hannah, working side by side, were both concocting the Herbicide Potion, sharing a silent communication that spoke of their close friendship.

Hermione, as expected, was a picture of efficiency, her potion already showing the perfect color and consistency. Her choice of the Antidote to Common Poisons demonstrated her ambition to tackle complex concoctions.

Pansy Parkinson was meticulously working on Pompion Potion, her expression one of intense focus opposite to the usage of comical effects of the potion. Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott, forming a trio of ambition, each chose a potion that showcased their individual strengths.

Ron, attempting a Cure for Boils, seemed to be struggling with the consistency of his potion, his face a mask of concentration as he tried to correct his mistake. The Patil twins, Parvati and Padma, each chose different potions, reflecting their individual interests, while Lavender's potion bubbled cheerfully, a sign of her growing competence in the subject.

As Harry completed his first circuit of the room, Snape's voice sliced through the air, "Remember, precision is key. A single miscalculation can turn your potion from a masterpiece to a disaster."

Nigel's voice popped up in Harry's mind, "Ah, Snape's motivational speeches, always so uplifting. Makes you wonder why he never pursued a career in inspirational speaking."

Suppressing a chuckle at Nigel's comment, Harry continued his observation. He was impressed by the level of dedication and skill his classmates displayed. It was a reminder of the talent that surrounded him at Hogwarts.

On his second round, Harry paid closer attention to his friends' progress. Daphne's potion was now a perfect shade of blue, signaling its completion. Tracey, too, had managed to achieve the desired result, her potion bubbling gently with no sign of distress.

Neville, with a sigh of relief, had successfully brewed his Forgetfulness Potion, a small triumph that brought a smile to Harry's face. Susan and Hannah were both adding the final touches to their Herbicide Potions, their synchronized actions a testament to their teamwork.

Hermione, already cleaning her workspace, offered Harry a satisfied nod. Her potion, now safely stored in a vial, was a clear indication of her exceptional talent.

As the potion exam wrapped up without any mishaps, thanks to the combined vigilance of Harry and Professor Snape, the students began to gather their belongings, preparing for the next challenge—the written exam. After making sure all the vials were safely collected, Harry approached Snape, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "Am I to take the written exam, sir?" he inquired, recalling Snape's earlier exemption from the practical.

Snape's response was accompanied by his customary smirk, a mix of challenge and amusement evident in his expression. "As I've mentioned, Mr. Potter, you've already secured the top mark in practical, but you're welcome to critique my examination paper, should you find the task entertaining," he teased.

Harry, unable to resist the playful jab, retorted with a light chuckle, "Well, it might be fun to give it a go." Their brief exchange ended with a mutual understanding, and they entered the classroom together for the written portion of the exam.

To Harry's amusement, the only seat available was at the very front of the room, squarely in the middle—a clear indication of his peers' collective desire to maintain a safe distance from Snape. With a soft laugh, Harry took the seat, readying his quill and ink for the task ahead. The papers were soon distributed, and the room fell into a focused silence, broken only by the occasional scratch of quill against parchment.

Nigel's voice whispered in Harry's thoughts, "Ah, the joys of academic rigor. Remember, Master Harry, if in doubt, dazzle them with your penmanship."

Harry rolled his eyes in response to Nigel's quip about penmanship; his handwriting was notoriously poor, something he'd yet to improve despite his magical studies. Settling into the examination, Harry quickly scanned the questions laid out on the parchment. They were straightforward for him, yet he recognized that for his peers, the exam could present a significant challenge. Snape had designed the questions to test a deep understanding of his lessons rather than mere rote memorization from the textbooks, a distinction that could easily trip up those who hadn't paid close attention in class.

The questions required an insight into Snape's unique approach to Potions, emphasizing the nuances and subtleties that distinguished an average potion from an exceptional one. It wasn't enough to simply recall the ingredients and their quantities; students needed to demonstrate their grasp of the timing, temperature, and even the stir pattern's impact on the potion's efficacy. For Harry, thanks to his practiced Occlumency, retaining and recalling this level of detail was second nature. Even without his perfect memory, he could have relied on the System to replay Snape's lectures as though he were back in the classroom.

With a mixture of amusement and efficiency, Harry breezed through the exam. As he worked, he noted a minor typo in one of the questions, a small oversight in the otherwise meticulous paper. With a silent chuckle, he couldn't resist making a note of the correction in the margin of his paper, imagining Snape's reaction upon discovering it.

As Harry set his quill down, marking the end of his exam significantly before anyone else, he stood and exited the classroom. Finding a secluded spot by the lake, he sat and gazed out over the tranquil waters. The summer breeze was gentle, carrying the scent of fresh grass and the distant murmurs of the Forbidden Forest. The lake, with its surface mirroring the clear blue sky, seemed particularly inviting that day.

"That reminds me, I've never actually swum," Harry mused aloud, the peaceful setting sparking a realization.

Nigel, seizing the opportunity for commentary, chimed in, "Never? But I remember a few aquatic escapades in your memories."

Harry couldn't help but snort at that. "If being chucked into the pool by Dudley counts, then sure. But I'd hardly call desperate flailing 'swimming,' Nigel."

The sarcastic AI, undeterred, replied, "Ah, semantics. The point is, you've experienced water beyond a mere shower. Though, I suppose learning to swim without the imminent threat of drowning could be considered a novel concept for you."

With a chuckle at Nigel's dry humor, Harry stood up, stripping off his shoes and socks. "Well, no time like the present to learn," he declared, rolling up his trousers, as he transfigurated them into swim trunks. Wading into the cool water, he felt the tension from the exams start to ebb away. The lake's edge was shallow, and he took a moment to acclimate to the temperature before attempting a few tentative strokes.

"See, I'm swimming," Harry announced, more to himself than to Nigel, as he managed a few awkward but effective movements through the water.

"Indeed, and with all the grace of a newborn Hippogriff," Nigel remarked. "But it's a start. Perhaps Hogwarts offers swimming lessons as an elective?"

Harry laughed, splashing around a bit more before circling in the lake. "I'll keep that in mind," he said.