When the cauldron appeared, several Slytherin students, Gregory Goyle among them, immediately recalled the awful experience of their old exams, their faces turning pale without their realizing it.
It was not just those Slytherin students. Students from the other Houses quickly understood what it meant as well, and suppressed laughter rippled through the hall.
"Everyone, try to imagine this..." Wizet's voice rang out again, drawing the students' attention back. The laughter quickly died away.
"Inside every one of us is a cauldron, constantly brewing potions and capable of regulating itself."
"Since it is a cauldron for brewing potions, where are the ingredients? They are in our hearts—the emotions we produce every moment."
"Joy, sorrow, focus, anger... Every emotion is a unique magical ingredient."
"When you are happy, it is like adding sunlit Celandine; when you are focused, the cauldron gives off the scent of Valerian."
"Such potion-brewing is constantly taking place within us. Its scent occasionally escapes, affecting those around us and allowing them to feel our joy, focus..."
As he spoke, the cauldron changed as well, spewing mist of various colors that curled and intertwined in midair before quietly fading away.
"Now, let us imagine a situation like this: you are walking on a moving staircase when you accidentally step into the trap of one of the stairs..."
"This is undoubtedly a terrible situation, like carelessly adding several Porcupine Quills to a Boil-Cure Potion that has not yet been taken off the heat—the instant reaction is enough to terrify anyone."
The cauldron boiled even more violently, even spitting sparks.
A cloud of black mist suddenly surged from the cauldron and rapidly spread through the air.
The students all looked up at the black mist. For them, Boil-Cure Potion was the first potion recipe they had learned after arriving at