Potions Class Teacher

The foolish methods used by foolish people meant that even if they followed every step exactly, they could only ever remain barely passing.

For a wizard with no talent like that, even sparing him another glance—

was a waste of the precious time of Severus Snape, the Potions Master!

As he watched that error-riddled technique, rage nearly burst from Snape's gloomy eyes.

But when he gazed into those truly bright emerald-green eyes, the anger in his heart gradually subsided.

Thinking of how, rain or shine, the boy had played hide-and-seek with him during this time, all just to brew a cauldron of rubbish-tier potion, Snape found himself overcome by a strange and complicated feeling.

Fortunately, he had indeed improved. During the last Potions class, he had even brewed a barely Outstanding potion.

That was the only reason Snape had not immediately driven him away.

Sometimes, he came here to watch the boy's frantic, painstaking practice as he racked his brains.

Those idiot wizards thought he was in his office?

They had no idea that Hogwarts Castle had more secret passages than towers.

But there was one thing he might never admit—

he believed he was merely enjoying a joke, when in truth, he had been silently watching over the Young Wizard's safety.

"Failed..."

You brewed a full cauldron of Scurvy Paste to an apprentice's standard. Proficiency +1

In the dungeon, beside the cauldron, Sean sighed.

But he was not discouraged. He knew that success could not be achieved overnight.

He had indeed found some inspiration; he simply had not fully grasped it—

changing one step set off a chain reaction in the others, and because he had failed to adjust those other steps properly, the potion's quality had declined.

But if he were given enough time to brew one more cauldron, he would definitely succeed.

Just as he cleaned the cauldron and pulled himself together again, the dungeon door was violently thrown fully open, slamming against the stone wall with a dull boom.

The shadows poured in before the man himself, followed by the hem of a bat-like black robe, swirling as it swallowed the faint light at the doorway.

Footsteps echoed across the damp stone floor, neither hurried nor slow, yet carrying the rhythm of judgment.

Sean froze completely.

His large emerald-green eyes stared blankly as Professor Snape walked toward him, step by step.

The dim yellow light barely illuminated the sharp shadow cast by his hooked nose, making his gloomy words sound even colder:

"Sean Green..."

His voice was like a snake flicking its tongue.

Sean's eyes gradually dimmed as well.

He did not try to explain himself. He merely packed the ingredients into his bag, cast Scourgify! on the cauldron, and prepared to leave the dungeon.

Sean knew that his choice had been dangerous from the start.

If he was discovered, he had to accept the consequences.

"Sorry, Professor Snape."

Sean spoke softly.

"I'll leave right away."

Then, he slung the small black bag over his back and was about to leave.

"Heh—of course, if I were like you—"

Snape sneered.

"With such idiotic potion brewing, such a technique riddled with flaws—I too would be utterly ashamed, and would not dare remain long in this sacred place."

Hearing Professor Snape's words, Sean showed no reaction. He only silently regretted that he had been so close to succeeding.

"Running away—is that your choice?"

Professor Snape suddenly said.

"If I were you, I would light the cauldron immediately—and when stirring at the end, I would increase the range and stir one more circle."

Sean was stunned. His steps halted as he turned to look at Professor Snape in surprise.

Professor Snape... was he teaching him?

Sean did not hesitate. He set down his bag and was about to take out the ingredients.

At that moment, a bundle of ingredients suddenly floated onto the wooden table.

Sean heard Professor Snape's cold voice:

"If you dare to fail—"

Professor Snape's gaze was icy, as though he were threatening him.

Yet Sean did not feel that way at all.

He had always possessed the ability to disregard others' outward appearances, thanks to his deep understanding of them.

Like Hermione—she could indeed be rather condescending at times and liked to instruct others, but beneath that arrogant attitude lay her sincere concern.

Like Professor Snape—he had always been accustomed to hiding his emotions behind cruelty, favoritism, and hostility.

But no one could blame him for that, because not everyone had been loved.

Sean recalled Professor Snape's teachings, and the cauldron was lit again, bubbles rising once more.

This time, Sean still brewed the potion smoothly.

A trace of satisfaction appeared on Snape's gloomy face as well.

Unlike those Gryffindors who shouted like Trolls, and unlike those brainless, inert Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws were always a little smarter, and the Young Wizard before him was among the best of them.

He knew what he wanted, and he would put it into action. He was also sufficiently...

extremely hardworking.

When the ink green liquid appeared once more, Sean could not help feeling nervous, until—

You have successfully brewed a cauldron of Scurvy Paste to the standard of a Proficient. Proficiency +10

Scurvy Paste has been unlocked

A new Potion Field Title has been unlocked. Please check it.

A Wizard Talent has been unlocked. Please check it.

The sparks in the fireplace burned more fiercely, yet Sean still did not dare let down his guard as he poured the potion into Crystal Bottles.

Only after the cauldron had completely gone out did Sean gradually relax.

This made Snape give a slight nod as well.

Before his eyes, Sean was slightly excited. After all, he had not even needed to use the improved ritual...

"Professor Snape, thank you."

Sean thanked him sincerely. His clear eyes held no emotion other than gratitude.

This made Snape, who had been about to turn and leave, pause.

For a moment, he did not even sneer. Instead, he gave Sean a deeper look.

"What you should be grateful for is that you succeeded. Otherwise—"

His sallow face shifted uncertainly, and a rare complexity appeared in his eyes.

"Sean Green, let me tell you something.

Respect yourself, even if you have achieved nothing in potions, and you will have the power to change reality.

If you belittle yourself, I swear, the door to potions will never open to you—"

Even after leaving the dungeon, those words continued to echo through Sean's mind, nearly shattering his fixed impression of Professor Snape.

Beneath the enormous painting, with Sir Cadogan's rambling in his ears, Sean could not help recalling Professor Snape once again:

He was undoubtedly starved of love.

His tragedy was that he had spent his entire life longing for love, yet the absence of love in his childhood had robbed him of the ability to understand and express it.

He had clung to Lily, the only love he had ever known, yet because of his own flaws and the tragedy of the times, he had destroyed it with his own hands.

In the end, his life became a long and painful act of self-punishment, written in loyalty and courage.

His greatness lay in his astonishing courage and perseverance, but at the core of his character was undoubtedly that lonely boy in the cold house at Spinner's End, who had never been nourished by love.

And then, could he define Professor Snape as an empty shell without a soul, one that would never grow again?

Sean, he told himself, you were sorting through your own prejudices and trying to force them onto a living person.