Snape flicked his wand, and at once a massive projection appeared above the classroom. It displayed the surface of the lectern along with Snape's hands, ensuring that everyone could clearly see every detail of his movements.
"The first step: weigh the ingredients and determine the proportions. We start with dried nettles…"
Snape began selecting the materials and operating the instruments, his movements precise, standardized, and fluid.
"Next, crush the snake fangs. Pay attention to my motions…"
"Then begin boiling the horned slugs. Take note—only this type with feelers will do. And when boiling them for the first time, never start with cold water. The water must be fully boiling before you add them…"
"Melt the porcupine quills… Pay attention! You must remove the cauldron from the fire first and allow it to cool for a while before adding them. Otherwise, prepare to be disfigured. To save time, I'll cool this magically—but when it's your turn, don't do that. I don't trust your pitiful spells not to blow up your cauldrons along with everything else."
"And finally…"
Snape combined the horned slug solution—already boiled three times—with the other ingredients and began stirring in a set rhythm and direction.
"Huh?!"
Sitting in the front row, Avada could clearly see Snape's hands without needing to look up at the projection. What he observed almost made him cry out in surprise.
Within his perception, the magical structures contained in each ingredient had originally been chaotic and meaningless when viewed individually. Yet once they were added to the horned slug solution, those disparate magical structures were harmonized by the solution's simple underlying magic, gradually merging into a regular, elegant, entirely new configuration.
The entire process was like restoring a shattered jigsaw puzzle—smooth, seamless, and pleasing to behold.
This was a phenomenon Avada had never observed in all his previous years. If one wanted to create a specific magical structure, the most direct method was spellcasting—using mental focus to manipulate the surrounding magic. But this entirely different approach, fusing the innate magical structures of potion ingredients, achieved results that were extremely difficult to replicate through direct spellwork—at a fraction of the cost.
Take the Cure for Boils in front of them as an example. A proficient first-year wizard could brew it in ten minutes or so. Yet if one tried to replicate its internal magical structure using only a wand, the difficulty would be no less than casting Aguamenti.
And Aguamenti was a spell taught only in sixth year!
It was at that moment that Avada truly realized: Potion-making was a completely different way—unlike any form of magic he had known before—of influencing magical power.
I must master Potions.
He made a silent vow that even if Snape targeted him in the future, he would grit his teeth and swallow his pride to seek his guidance.
Up at the lectern, Snape completed the final step and poured the potion into a glass vial, holding it up for everyone to see. It was a pale blue liquid, faintly glowing under the classroom lights, exquisitely beautiful.
"Now then, I will distribute the ingredients. You will brew in pairs. I sincerely hope none of you are stupid enough that two people can't even scrape together a complete set of equipment."
"Miss White, you will work with Mr. Nott. Mr. McNeill, you with Mr. Alex…"
Snape moved from the back of the classroom toward the front, grouping the students according to House. When he reached the front row and saw Avada and Baron, an amused glint flashed through his eyes.
"Unfortunately, Hufflepuff and Slytherin both have an odd number of students. So, Mr. Ken—why don't you partner with Mr. Shafiq?"
"It will be convenient for Mr. Shafiq to supervise that brain of yours, which can't even remember the Pepperup Potion recipe, and prevent any… unfortunate incidents during my class."
He handed a set of ingredients to Avada and Baron, then turned away to patrol the room.
"Don't take it personally. He actually thinks quite highly of you…"
Baron explained awkwardly, "Pepperup Potion is something we're only meant to master next term. You managed to recite most of the recipe your first week—far beyond what he expected. I think he wanted you to guide me, but just couldn't bring himself to say it outright…"
"Focus on your work. No chatting."
Snape had appeared behind them at some point, rapping them on the head with a roll of parchment.
"Ahem."
Both of them shuddered and straightened up, hastily beginning their work.
"Dried nettles, snake fangs, porcupine quills, horned slugs…"
Baron handled the precise weighing of each ingredient, passing them to Avada for secondary processing. Avada placed the snake fangs into the mortar and crushed them with the pestle, reducing them to powder. Though purely physical, he had memorized the corresponding magical reactions while watching Snape earlier—how fine the grind needed to be, whether to spread or clump the powder—none of it posed any difficulty.
Next came snapping the porcupine quills into short segments, shredding the dried nettles, and heating water to boil the slugs. These classic, time-tested recipes had been refined over countless generations, leaving almost no room for optimization—yet Avada identified several operational hazards.
For instance, if one ground the porcupine quills directly into powder instead of snapping them, in an attempt to accelerate the reaction… congratulations. The excessive reaction surface would trigger a magical change meant to occur later, causing it to combine with incomplete components into a structure similar to the Flame-Making Spell, Incendio…
Internally complaining all the while, Avada coordinated smoothly with Baron: brewing, cooling, adding ingredients, brewing again, stirring, secondary cooling…
With detailed notes, flawless execution, and Avada continuously monitoring every magical fluctuation with Magical Perception, their progress was lightning-fast. Amid the classroom's constant explosions, hissing cauldrons, coughing fits, startled shouts, and Snape's furious yelling, they stood out like a crane among chickens.
Soon, they reached the final step.
"Stir clockwise seven times, pause for three seconds, then counterclockwise twice…"
Baron whispered as he read the notes, glancing at Avada as he worked—only to see him stop after five and a half clockwise turns, pause for two seconds, and then resume stirring clockwise.
"Hey! That's wrong!"
Baron warned anxiously, but Avada remained calm.
"Relax. This is another stirring method I found in the library—perfect for this potion. If nothing goes wrong, the effect should be two to three times stronger than the original."
A fabrication, of course. In reality, Avada had finally identified a flaw ripe for improvement—one glaringly obvious to his Magical Perception. He had no idea why previous potion-makers had never touched it.
Trusting Avada based on their Charms lessons together, Baron nodded and did not interfere.
At last, the modified stirring was complete. As Avada withdrew the glass rod, the formerly colorless liquid deepened into a dark azure, even richer than the standard version. He poured it into a vial and gave it a proud shake toward Baron.
"Told you. Trust me."
"Impressive."
Baron nodded in admiration and raised his hand to call Snape over.
Snape examined their potion—but instead of praise, he let out a cold snort.
"Mr. Ken, do you believe your brilliant mind has discovered a revolutionary new improvement?"
He retrieved a chunk of unidentified meat from a nearby shelf and flicked his wand, covering it with boils.
"Come. Let me show you the effect of this 'genius potion.'"
Carefully uncorking the vial, he poured the deep blue liquid onto the surface. A sizzling sound filled the air as the flesh blackened, corroded, and collapsed like it had been splashed with acid, leaving behind a horrifying dark patch.
"Your brilliant technique tripled the potion's strength—so instead of merely killing the mites, it burns off the skin entirely, Mr. Ken!"
"And if you're still feeling stubborn and plan to dilute it with water…""By all means. I wouldn't mind watching another firework."
(End of Chapter)