Fury

Severus Snape was not in a particularly good mood today.

That cowardly, timid fellow whom he needed to keep a close eye on

had become increasingly unpredictable in recent days.

"Whatever you're planning, you'd better pray I don't catch you..."

He muttered coldly and turned past the staircase.

Just then, a faint bubbling sound caught his attention.

No one at Hogwarts knew that sound better than he did.

It was the wonderful sound of potion bubbling and brewing inside a cauldron.

But he was not in the Dungeon, which meant—

Someone had broken into the Dungeon!

He strode across the stone steps like roiling storm clouds, carrying thunder and tempest with him.

"What are you doing?!"

He swept up before Sean, his tone unable to suppress the rage within it.

"Outrageous! Utterly ignorant!"

Looking at the cauldron belching White Smoke, the scattered ingredients, then the liquid in that Crystal Bottle...

How could he not understand what had happened?!

Since he began teaching, he had never seen such an audacious Young Wizard!

Brewing potions without permission?!

Did he think this was some idiotic class like Astronomy class or History of Magic?!

Potions were an exact science, and a dangerous craft!

Without sufficient skill or supervision, even the slightest mistake could cost a Young Wizard his life.

They would not even have time to react, let alone save themselves!

Sean's smile froze on his face, and he swiftly swallowed down every surging emotion.

He understood. He had triggered the bad ending—Professor Snape had returned.

Just as he had finished brewing the potion, before he had time to clean up and leave,

he had been caught red-handed.

"Heh heh...

Let me guess. Mr. Green of Ravenclaw believes he possesses extraordinary talent in potions,

to the point that he needs no guidance at all and trusts himself to brew a perfect potion..."

Professor Snape's voice was like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, cold and oppressive.

Sean lowered his head. He neither panicked nor explained himself. He knew Snape—explaining was tantamount to suicide, and that was no exaggeration...

"Ah—then let us examine his achievement. Let us see what glorious result he obtained after that last utterly idiotic brewing attempt, one that made him dare, like a brainless Troll, to challenge the authority of the field of potions alone..."

He shot Sean a vicious glare.

Sean had barely raised his head before immediately lowering it again.

"Heh!"

Snape gave a mocking laugh, though he was slightly relieved.

At least this fellow had not caused the cauldron to explode like those brainless Trolls in Gryffindor.

His attention quickly focused on the potion. He had to make sure this batch truly would not explode.

As for Sean's results?

Did he think potions were some branch of magic where one could make rapid progress?

Judging by that disastrous brewing last time, it was already Merlin's blessing that no accident had occurred this time.

Yet when he looked, he froze.

A passable potion. Though it could not be called excellent in the slightest, it showed astonishing progress.

"This is your handiwork?"

Snape gave Sean a sinister look.

Sean nodded in response.

"I suppose the arc of your stirring was far too wide, and your heat control was absurdly dreadful.

It was only the barely correct handling of the ingredients that allowed you to still be standing here speaking to me.

The frightening thing is that you have not grasped this in the slightest..."

Professor Snape watched as Sean skipped over the mockery and quickly committed the techniques hidden in his words to memory, even delaying his reaction to the sarcasm by a beat.

His expression immediately darkened further, and he roared:

"Get out of the Dungeon! Now! Immediately!"

Without hesitation, Sean quickly gathered the Crystal Bottle, books, and ingredients.

He quietly walked out of the Dungeon.

There was no rebuttal, no fear, anger, or any other emotion.

Only a calm:

"Sorry, Professor Snape."

The Black Hair Wizard's grim expression stiffened slightly as he watched the light in Sean's emerald-green eyes dim until he disappeared at the end of the corridor.

As the surroundings grew brighter, warmth once again wrapped around Sean.

Yet rather than improving, his mood became far worse.

He had successfully brewed the potion. All he needed to do next was keep practicing, and he would be able to steadily master the techniques of potions.

He could strengthen his talent in potions.

Even the System Panel seemed to have granted him some good fortune:

Scurvy Paste: Locked (1/30)

One Apprentice-level potion brew could unlock an Apprentice-level Title in the field of potions.

Scurvy Paste required 30 proficiency points, while just one Apprentice-level potion brew would allow him to unlock a Title in the field of potions.

Everything had been getting better.

Yet at the most crucial moment, he had ruined it.

No one could predict Professor Snape's movements. The only thing known was that he taught Potions class to the Young Wizards on Mondays and Fridays.

Therefore, Sean had no way to prepare for this either.

He remained silent, thinking.

If he could not practice, he could not improve. Therefore, practice was necessary.

He would practice according to the correct methods until his talent improved.

So he was certain he would not make some absurd mistake that led to danger.

His practice was safe and effective, but communicating with Professor Snape was bound to be ineffective.

On the way to the Great Hall, Sean suddenly recalled something.

Professor Snape had not told him not to come again next time, nor had he deducted points from his house.

Why was that?

Sean did not know whether he was overthinking it, but vaguely, it seemed he had gained another small opportunity.

In the Dungeon.

Snape snorted coldly and flicked his wand. The cauldron slowly floated before him.

The ink green liquid lay quietly within it, as tranquil as the Young Wizard who had just left.

Because of those truly bright green eyes, he had not mocked him any further.

He carefully examined the Scurvy Paste. Merely from the potion's final state, he could infer the effort the Young Wizard had put in.

In three days,

he had not only brought his ingredient handling above the passing line, but had also keenly adjusted the force of his stirring.

He had even achieved the most crucial step—

Absolute concentration.

Otherwise, given his Troll-like heat control and timing when adding ingredients,

he could never have brewed a passable potion.

He had made all this progress in only three days.

Snape could almost imagine the day-and-night contemplation, the painstaking study of Herbology.

"Heh, what a pity. The wonders of potions do not welcome Wizards without sufficient talent..."

In the Great Hall.

Sean took out his personal notebook and carefully recalled every step and detail, ensuring they were all engraved in his mind.

Would he give up practicing potions because of Professor Snape's mockery?

The odds were as low as Professor Snape awarding Gryffindor one hundred points.

Professor Snape had to be absent sometimes...

Sean thought.

A cauldron would not care who was using it.