Professor Snape stopped in the center of the classroom and pointed his long, slender wand at a cauldron.
He did not even need to speak.
Everyone's eyes were drawn to that cauldron.
Inside it churned a strange, viscous liquid like hardened tar.
An indescribable stench rose from it, mingling the smells of scorched toad skin and spoiled nettles in a fierce assault on everyone's noses.
Several students in the front row had already turned green.
"The latest... masterpiece of Gryffindor's geniuses."
Snape finally spoke, his voice as slippery as a snake, flowing slowly through the cold classroom.
"A substance... for which I cannot even find a name... vomit."
He named no names, but every Gryffindor student felt their cheeks burn.
"To brew a standard cauldron of Cure for Boils."
Snape's voice carried undisguised contempt.
"You need only remember one fundamental step: extinguish the flame before adding the porcupine quills."
"A simple step... that even a troll could remember."
His gaze slowly moved away from the students whose faces were flushed with shame.
It landed squarely on the ambitious older students.
Those students who had been itching to act ever since hearing about the Triwizard Tournament.
"I can feel it."
Snape's voice dropped lower, becoming more penetrating.
"Your ambition is practically spilling out of your pores."
"Yearning for glory, yearning to become Hogwarts' champion."
His lips curled into a deeply mocking smile, and the tip of his wand pointed at the failed brew again.
"With this?"
Those few words pierced everyone's fantasies like a needle.
"However."
Snape drew out the word, as though seriously considering a possibility.
"I do have a suggestion."
"You could use this cauldronful as a secret weapon."
"Poison your opponents with it during the tournament."
"I imagine that might win Hogwarts... an exceedingly pathetic victory."
The vicious,