The flames beneath strained upward with all their might, and the popping of bubbles grew increasingly intense. The instant the boundary between the yellow and white layers in the cauldron blurred, Severus Snape knew that another major mishap had occurred in this herbal equation-an ordinary potioneer would probably have turned off the heat, put away their stirring rod, and poured out this batch of failed potion, which had taken twenty minutes to brew.
But Snape knew perfectly well that, as the Half-Blood Prince, he would not and could not do that. Accepting failure so easily was not his style. His right hand reached out with a spare stirring rod, heading straight for the prepared Six-Variety Highly Poisonous Fungi Sauce on the third shelf. After dipping it lightly in the sauce, he pushed it into the "ground fragments of shed Dwarfism Puffskein hair"-
Like fried chicken coated in a thin layer of flour, the stirring rod returned to the cauldron bearing its peculiar substances. The moment it entered, a pitch-black barrier appeared between the yellow and white layers. Snape narrowed his eyes, swept his robes aside, and increased the heat again.
He knew that once the black layer with its separating effect disappeared, this potion, though still unable to reach his intended outcome, would gain another purpose. Without a doubt, it would give the unlucky soul who drank it... a painless, sweet dream of death.
"Oh, right, one more thing. I said long ago that you could never be too prepared. It always comes in useful, doesn't it?" As he murmured softly to himself, he put on gloves, picked up a small knife, and took another large, lump-covered toad out of a pitch-black earthenware jar. With a gentle cut, he let pus flow from its largest lump, draining all of it