Snape's departure was as sudden as his arrival.
He left a dazed Sean standing there, clutching ten whole Galleons, murmuring to himself under the curious stares of a dozen nosy portraits:
"Professor Snape just…"
"Ha—ha—ha! Little Green, don't tell me you think that gloomy—oh, and brave—fellow's gone mad—ha ha ha…"
Sir Cadogan was as fearless as ever.
Then the spectacle moved on.
Sean walked a hundred meters in silence—and the portraits around him retreated two frames' distance—because the returning Professor Snape's face was darker than the storm outside.
"Lady Violet… Sir Cadogan will be all right, won't he?" Sean whispered to the kindly lady in a white underdress.
"And what would 'all right' be? Set on fire? Relocated to a canvas full of trolls? Or…"
Lady Violet beamed, unconcerned by the horror of her words.
"He'll live. As for… anything more, well…"
Sean gave Sir Cadogan three seconds of silence and left the corridor.
All night long, the corridor rang with the knight's howls.
On the way back to the common room, Sean took out the slip of parchment, using distraction to fight the endless staircase:
[As I've said before—truth never compromises. The wizard who seeks it will always find it.
When the refined ritual sharpens the wizard's senses, the gifted will perceive those wonderful changes.
The ignorant fool drowns in rotten tradition, but a true potions master never stops seeking.
You may ask why refined rituals are so rare—]
Curiosity tugging him along, the stairwell somehow felt less steep.
[Remember—spellcraft and potions are bound by a primal thread.
When you guide with will, you should sense it.
As you guessed, I have done the necessary work:
every potion's refined ritual is recorded with a unique method of will-guidance.
Let the later reader understand—this is Borage's greatest breakthrough in the mysterious art of potions!
Next, I will show the secret of why potions are suffused with magic—]
Sean held his breath.
So the ritual and will-control are a matched set?
The jackpot was still growing… the "greatest breakthrough" kept gaining weight…
He couldn't help but marvel: the vastness of magic is that when a hopeful wizard opens a path, he finds someone has already written it down.
He copied the method line by line.
He stood before a treasury—a vault of wisdom amassed over a lifetime by one widely hailed as among the greatest potioneers.
When he glanced at his panel, progress had jumped:
[Title]: Potions Novice
[Scalp Tonic]: Apprentice (210/300)
[Advance]: Brew 3 Novice potions to unlock the domain's Novice title
Scalp Tonic was nearly Novice-tier; time to brew other potions and grind out the title.
Magical Drafts and Potions listed methods for several brews: Simple Antidote, Potion for Boils, Forgetfulness Potion, Herbicide, Sleeping Draught, Swelling Solution, Awakening Draught…
Similar difficulty, most priced in the few-Galleon range. But those are ordinary quality—roughly "Adept" pricing; higher quality rises by multiples. At the top end, prices are sky-high.
Perhaps that's why masters never brew low-tier draughts, and low-tier brewers can't produce high-grade potions. Sean's own Expert-grade Scalp Tonic had fetched ten Galleons—his purse felt suddenly weighty.
Late that night,
the purple-mottled cover of Advanced Potion-Making fluttered open, and a slip of parchment drifted like a dancer to the azure drapes:
[Yes—the journey continues.
We have not yet found the final, essential answer to what potions are.
Yet by chance, we noticed something odd—
might this be the start of something new in potions?
—Borage]
…
Monday, Ravenclaws were uncharacteristically quiet:
they had double Potions first thing. Under a certain Potions Master's shadow, it had become the most dreaded class.
"Whoa, Sean—slow down, slow down."
Justin fumbled along under Sean's lead. He swore Sean made a new step forward every time, and even with Sean's notes in front of him, parts still slipped past.
"So, Terry, you're saying while we're still prepping ingredients, the next table's already bottling?"
Michael stirred slugs and gave Terry a "don't take me for a fool" look.
"Yes."
Terry's eyes flicked to Justin catching the finished brew, and he confirmed it.
"I can't believe—okay, I believe." Michael followed his gaze, then quickly looked back and apologized, earnest: "Terry, I'm sorry for doubting you—and Sean. Think he'd share a few tricks after class?"
As the first period neared its end, Professor Snape strode to the back rows; eagles and badgers ducked their heads.
"Barely adequate," he said, voice still cold. "One point—each."
Sean eyed the Novice-grade brew. He'd hardly helped—meaning Justin had real talent.
At the start of period two, Snape suddenly announced a new potion—Swelling Solution.
A groan rose from those who'd just learned Boil Cure—but one look from Snape strangled it.
Only Sean's eyes shone brighter.
"Swelling Solution—deceptively simple, but it tests precision—and the mind."
Snape's voice rolled out, low and smooth, snuffing the last whispers in the dungeon. He paused; a curl of a sneer touched his mouth.
"Of course, for most of you, that's asking too much. So if any of you dare to drift off…"
Every wand-hand jolted to attention.
Three ingredients: bat spleens, dried nettles, puffer-fish eyes. Sean had only prepared one of them before; as Snape processed the rest, Sean didn't blink.
~~~
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