Snape paced over to Lin Yuan's desk, scooped up a drop with a small silver spoon, sniffed it lightly beneath his nose, then rubbed it between his fingertips.
His face remained expressionless, but something exceedingly complex flickered through those unfathomable eyes.
Hermione's potion was a perfect textbook example. Every step had been precise and flawless—the model work of a top student.
Lin Yuan's potion, however, possessed an indescribable hint of "spirit."
Its properties were restrained, its color exceptionally pure, as though the potential of every ingredient had been squeezed to its utmost limit before being perfectly fused together.
This did not look like a student's work. It was more like the inspired masterpiece of a master who had immersed himself in the craft for many years.
"Still... acceptable."
In the end, Snape coldly spat out those words. He neither awarded points nor deducted any, merely turning and walking away.
But Lin Yuan keenly noticed that, the instant Snape turned around, the corner of his mouth seemed to lift in an incredibly slight curve—one even Snape himself had not noticed.
The following morning was the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam.
A heavy smell of garlic filled the classroom.
Professor Quirrell stood before the lectern, pale-faced, his distinctive large turban wrapped tightly around his head.
"G-g-good morning," he began with a stammer. "T-t-today's exam is v-very simple. It's j-just a written paper. D-do your best."
He handed out the parchment papers, and the students all breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the questions.
"How do you drive gnomes out of a garden?"
"What spell should be used when encountering a Cornish Pixie?"
"Please describe the characteristics of a Hinkypunk."
They were all the most basic pieces of knowledge from the textbook. Some of the questions were even laughably childish.
Rather