"Unorthodox methods?"
Snape snorted coldly. This time, he raised his head, the anger and contempt in his eyes more genuine than ever.
"That term is inadequate to describe his behavior, Master. It was nothing short of blasphemy against Potions!"
He gritted his teeth as though chewing on something disgusting.
"He is a disgrace to the world of Potions! The biggest joke in the thousand years since Hogwarts was founded!"
Voldemort paused, seemingly not expecting the usually composed Snape to lose control like this.
"Go on! Tell me what he did!"
Snape took a deep breath and began the most heartfelt denunciation of his life.
"From the very first day he set foot in Hogwarts, he never respected that noble art for so much as a second!"
"You cannot imagine, Master, how painful it was for me, as a Potions Professor, to watch that... that wasteful wretch every day."
"In his first year, he used a cauldron-that sacred vessel meant for brewing the Draught of Living Death-to boil lamb!"
Snape spoke through gritted teeth, as though he could smell the hot pot lamb he so deeply loathed.
"That alone would have been tolerable. Lamb was at least a potion ingredient, but what did he add to it? Beef tallow! Chilies! Sichuan peppercorns! And a heap of pungent spices I could not even name!"
"He called it hot pot base!"
Snape looked utterly distressed.
"He cut precious African tree snake skin into sections, cracked and beat Antipodean Opaleye eggs, and even washed the herbs he stole from the Forbidden Forest until they were perfectly clean..."
"And then, Master, you will never guess what he did."
Snape closed his eyes, as though the scene had sullied his retinas.
"He threw those things into a boiling pot of oil. Swished them around for three