There was nothing much to say. He would just max them out in batches.
First, 100 Magic Points.
Potions—LV2 (Apprentice) 1/1000 You could gain an in-depth understanding of the principles of Potions and complex potion formulas, partially comprehend the proportions of advanced ingredients in potions, and learn to adjust a potion's effects according to different needs.
Though that was what the description said, Damon did not feel any knowledge appearing in his mind out of nowhere. However—when he instinctively flipped through the book before him, combinations and pairings that had previously seemed difficult to memorize and understand suddenly became simple and clear.
In other words, adding points to a branch skill improved his talent and comprehension rather than directly pouring knowledge into him?
Damon raised a brow, growing even more interested, and added more points.
Potions—LV3 (Advanced) 1/10000 You could quickly master the formulas and brewing methods for most potions, with an extremely high success rate. You could brew highly precise potions according to different needs, and even make fine adjustments and innovations based on their effects!
Continue.
Potions—LV4 (Expert) 1/1000000 You could master the brewing of certain highly complex and powerful potions, possess the ability to research and innovate potion formulas, gain an in-depth understanding of rare and dangerous ingredients, efficiently use those ingredients to brew potions, and even create certain legendary potions!
Damon looked at the familiar string of zeros after the number one and raised a brow, but did not continue adding points.
He had a feeling that Level Four Expert Potions was already enough to let him learn to brew the vast majority of potions in the world, such as the famous Felix Felicis, Love Potion, and the Polyjuice Potion Hermione had started brewing in her second year.
"D-Damon, can I sit here?"
Damon looked up slightly, his gaze sweeping over the empty seat beside him. Neville stood there nervously, clutching his Potions textbook, his eyes revealing a measure of unease and apprehension.
Though they had already been roommates for five days, Neville still seemed as shy around strangers as ever, and spoke with great politeness.
"Mm, of course."
Neville let out a sigh of relief, quickly placed his schoolbag on the table, then carefully sat down. It was obvious that he was rather nervous.
Just as Neville was about to say something, Professor Snape swept in through the door like a bat.
As soon as class began, he picked up the roll call and started taking attendance. When he reached Harry's name, he paused deliberately. "Oh, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our newcomer. Such a famous figure."
Snickers rose from the crowd. Then, he called the name Harry had been worrying about.
"Ron Weasley."
There was no response.
"Ron Weasley!"
Snape clearly had not expected someone to be late for the very first lesson, and his expression turned exceedingly ugly.
Just then, the sound of heavy panting came from outside the door—red-haired Ron arrived late, clearly having been delayed somewhere else.
"You are late, Weasley." Snape's voice instantly became even colder. He slowly set down the roll call, a faint half-smile appearing at the corner of his lips.
"You know, Weasley," Snape continued contemptuously, "punctuality is one of Hogwarts' most basic rules. If you cannot even manage the basic etiquette of attending class, then I am afraid you are destined to fail Potions."
Ron's face immediately reddened. Snape's words had clearly angered him. He hurried to an empty seat and sat down, trying his best not to look at Snape's icy stare.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."
"Since there is no foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.
"I do not expect you will really understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron giving off white smoke and waves of fragrance. You will not truly understand the wondrous magic of liquid flowing into human veins, enthralling the mind and clouding the will. I can teach you how to improve your reputation, brew glory, and even prevent death—but only if you are not the sort of bumbling fool I so often encounter."
It was an exceptionally impressive opening speech, instantly leaving the students below silent. Damon, however, smiled soundlessly.
Prevent death? He talked a big game, but he had not been able to save the Lily he loved most.
Snape's knife-sharp eyes swept over the students, and he had clearly noticed Damon's faint smile.
"Damon!" Snape suddenly said. "What would I get if I added powdered Asphodel Root to an infusion of wormwood?"
Ron had just settled down. He exchanged a glance with Harry, and both saw the same meaning in the other's eyes—Damon was in for it.
Yet Damon, whom they thought was about to suffer, stood up and answered seriously:
"Powdered Asphodel Root and wormwood can be used to brew a powerful sleeping potion called Draught of Living Death. In excessive doses, it can bring someone to the brink of death."
"You need only give me the most concise answer, not try to show off by saying things I already know, Mr. White!"
Snape's face darkened, as though Damon's correct answer had not improved his mood in the slightest.
"Then, White! If I asked you to find me a bezoar, where would you look?"
"In a cow's stomach, sir."
As if deliberately, Damon's answer was extremely brief. Even so, he still added "sir" at the end, which made Snape give him a strange look.
"Oh? It seems Mr. White, whose brief disturbance even overshadowed the Boy Who Lived, is quite the Potions prodigy, is he not?"
He paused, then suddenly spoke in a calmer, more serious tone:
"In that case, I believe you should be able to answer this question—if you add refined Mandrake Root to an extract of Moonpetal, then stir rapidly while the temperature is too high, what will you get?"
This question had clearly gone far beyond the basics and involved far more advanced potion-brewing.
Hermione, who had kept her hand raised high throughout both rounds of questioning, silently lowered it. Damon frowned as well, hesitating as he guessed based on the principles of the ingredients' properties.
"You would get an extremely unstable potion. It would rapidly evaporate and release deadly poisonous gas. Anyone exposed to it would fall into a poisoned coma, and it could even cause suffocation."
"You hesitated?" Snape deeply concealed the flash of surprise in his eyes, his gaze becoming sharper in an instant.
"Your answer truly disappoints me, Mr. White." He paused. The tension among the students in the classroom was almost palpable. Then Snape slowly spoke, his voice low and intimidating:
"Potions is a subject filled with precision and detail. Every ingredient added, every adjustment of temperature, even the timing of administration, determines whether the final result succeeds or fails. Such hesitation is not what Potions requires."
"Damon, because of your sluggish wording, Gryffindor will lose one point!"
"Very well, sir."
Damon smiled and sat back down, not taking it too seriously.
That old bat Snape was just like that. Rather than getting angry, Damon felt it suited the man perfectly and was somewhat amusing, like interacting with a real NPC.
Damon did not see Hermione behind him frown at that moment. She instinctively opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to defend him, but in the end, she could not say anything.
"He is actually so calm," Ron whispered to Harry, his tone carrying a trace of shock. "Professor Snape scares me just by looking at him. Damon is not panicking at all."
Harry was somewhat stunned as well. He said nothing, merely stared blankly at Damon's back.
Before you continue