Sometimes, the brewing of potions seems so Muggle-like,
that it leads many to believe that as long as one follows the steps, even a Muggle could brew a potion.
But the truth is quite the opposite.
Even if Muggles had all the ingredients and followed the instructions strictly, they would still be unable to make potions,
because brewing potions always requires some magic for guidance, and sometimes even the use of a wand.
For the Cure for Boils, the magical part comes at the very end.
At this point, the wizard needs to perform a specific gesture and silently recite a specific incantation.
The general meaning is
"Grant this potion the ability to cure boils."
As for the preceding steps, Sean was currently in the middle of them.
In the dungeon.
Thin rays of light cast patches on the stone walls, and the slow-simmering cauldron emitted white steam and wafts of fragrance.
The empty underground room was filled only with the sound of bubbling and the faint rustling of Sean flipping through *Magical Drafts and Potions*.
Regarding the points of attention for potion brewing, Professor Snape had made it very clear in the first lesson
That is, precision and rigor.
Sean turned *Magical Drafts and Potions* to the required section.
Although he had already memorized it, he still kept it to the side, just in case.
"Step one: weigh the ingredients, stew the horned slugs..."
While the cauldron had not yet reached the designated preheating time, Sean quickly measured the four ingredients to a precise standard,
and then, without a moment's delay, began stewing the horned slugs.
During the stewing process, he followed the steps to crush the venomous snake fangs using the tools on the table and chopped the pre-soaked dried nettles.
This was where the skills he had learned in the greenhouse came into play.
He selected and processed the ingredients to the required standard with almost effortless ease, even leaving himself plenty of time.
In his spare time, Sean did not stop; he quickly recorded the weight and state of the ingredients at that moment.
He didn't even let the general state of the flames escape his notice.
Although the cauldron in the dungeon was self-igniting, he would have to learn to control the flames with his wand sooner or later, wouldn't he?
Sean had always been in the habit of preparing in advance.
"Step two: remove the slugs, add the dried nettles and venomous snake fangs..."
With enough time, Sean looked over *Magical Drafts and Potions* one more time to ensure he wouldn't forget any details due to nervousness.
This brown-black book, with an image of a cauldron and steam on the cover, was placed to the side just like that,
revealing the content of the first page: [Basic Brewing Methods, This Book Is Enough]
"Step three: stir twice to the left, then stir three times to the right; the force must be moderate..."
Sean used the kind of pressure that would crush the bubbles, stirring the brewing potion with a fixed posture.
In fact, he was a little nervous.
Professor Snape could appear at any moment, and his practice might not necessarily succeed.
People are always a bit afraid of the unknown, and Sean was no exception,
so he was exceptionally serious and careful.
"Almost there, add the slugs, then remove the cauldron and add the porcupine quills."
At this point, the potion brewing had clearly reached the most critical moment. The slugs melted as soon as they were added to the cauldron, and the potion took on a light blue appearance.
Sean counted silently in his heart
"Twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three..."
In the interval, Sean didn't just stand there; he recorded the details of the subsequent steps in minute detail, including time, ingredient state, heat, and so on.
Next was the most exciting moment.
Sean stirred the cauldron, waved his arm, and recited the incantation.
And after the cauldron bubbled for a while,
it turned into...
a blue-green jelly-like liquid.
Huh?
Why was it blue-green?
There was no notification sound from the panel either.
Sean knew for certain that he had failed,
but looking at the final effect of the potion, he hadn't failed by much.
He frowned deeply. If there were no problems with the ingredient processing, then the problem must lie in the brewing process.
So, was it the stirring, the heat, or the final incantation that went wrong?
Or did they all go wrong?
Sean inexplicably recalled a passage from *Magical Theory*
[However, when you have mastered a piece of magic,
to truly exert its maximum power,
you also need sufficient mental strength.]
Sean recalled the wording here—a piece of magic.
Did potions also fall into this category, and was it the same for them?
Sean knew that his talent for potions was limited. Just like with charms, it might take a hundred or so practices to master the technique.
But he didn't have much time, nor did he have many ingredients.
Therefore, he had to take a shortcut.
He carefully took *Advanced Potion-Making* out of his bag and scanned through the obscure content.
Soon, he discovered a description that made his eyes light up.
[The Ministry of Magic classifies Polyjuice Potion as a high-risk magic,
because its effect is greatly influenced by the brewer's emotional fluctuations,
and it requires strict supervision.]
He didn't fully know what emotions were required for brewing potions, but nervousness and mechanical action were definitely not it.
When the cauldron was lit and steam rose again,
Sean's tense body had slowly relaxed. He told himself,
if Professor Snape were to discover him, then whether the practice succeeded or failed, he would be finished.
So, whether it was a successful finish or a failed finish,
the difference was significant.
His green eyes became deep and calm once more, and even his posture while stirring the potion took on a peculiar rhythm.
Sean had always been good at controlling his emotions; a child who couldn't do that would have lived very poorly at the Wool's Orphanage.
The nettles melted in the cauldron like rock sugar, and the fangs sizzled as they integrated into the potion.
Sean used the exact same heat as the last time, only this time,
he seemed to truly feel that he was completing a piece of art.
The art of potions.
The cauldron wafted with dense white steam, and time passed quietly amidst the small clinking sounds of the spoon hitting the inner wall.
When Sean added the porcupine quills again,
the extinguished cauldron swallowed the final ingredients as if merging with them.
Sean focused on completing the ritual and reciting the incantation.
This time, the cauldron did not change slowly; it seemed to follow Sean's will,
churning rapidly.
Before long, the liquid turned into a jelly-like state, and the color became infinitely close to ink-green.
[You have completely brewed a pot of Cure for Boils to the standard of an apprentice, Proficiency +1]
Sean's eyes were incredibly bright. He stared at this ink-green, jelly-like liquid, and the corners of his mouth lifted involuntarily.
Afterward, he didn't waste a single second, writing down all the steps in detail in his notebook.
The most important part was capitalized by him
[Potions are a precise craft; a wizard's focus and calmness are the key points.]
Just as he was immersed in reflection and summary,
on the stairs leading to the dungeon, the torches suddenly flickered.
Above the cold steps, a black hem of a robe suddenly surged past.