"I understand, Professor."
Sean cleaned the cauldron until it gleamed. Before leaving, he paused, sincerity filling his emerald eyes.
"Thank you for the materials and guidance."
As he left the Dungeon, Professor Snape's face flickered between light and shadow beneath the candlelight.
He would not forget those techniques. Though he did not know where the boy had learned them,
they undoubtedly reminded him of those rare, bright days.
He had never seen a student who loved Potions so purely.
He did not care about mockery or personal grudges, only Potions itself.
He held the most original, most untainted love for Potions, and even possessed techniques that were unbearably familiar to him—
things he had once studied and discussed alongside someone else, one of the few lights in his life.
It was precisely that focus and those familiar techniques that made his heart ache—
he hated seeing his own shadow,
especially when that shadow was tied to everything he had lost.
His gaze darkened.
Was it bitterness, anger, or that sliver of admiration he could not suppress?
Outside, the rain poured on and on. The emotions permeating the rain were as enduring and fierce as the wind.
Sean held his book and walked with a light step.
Ignoring Professor Snape's sharp tongue, he might truly be considered a qualified professor.
At the very least, he genuinely loved Potions and possessed superb skill.
The exhaustion from Sean's Potions ritual was nearly gone. By tomorrow at the latest, he could test just how much the Improvement Ritual enhanced quality.
Most importantly, Professor Snape seemed to have read Master Borachi's notes as well.
Perhaps he could offer Sean guidance on the Improvement Ritual?
But what Sean did not know was
that Professor Snape was not the only one who had seen this improvement...
Curfew