Chapter 47: The Potions Teacher

Stupid methods used by a stupid fellow; even if the steps are followed strictly, he can only ever hover at the passing grade.

A wizard with such a lack of talent—to look at him for even a moment longer

is a waste of the precious time of the Potions Master, Severus Snape!

Looking at those full of loopholes, fury nearly erupted from Snape's dark eyes.

But when he gazed into those truly bright emerald pupils,

the anger in his heart slowly subsided.

Recalling how the boy had played hide-and-seek with him through wind and rain lately,

all just to brew a single pot of waste-grade potion,

a strange and complex emotion momentarily welled up in Snape's heart.

Fortunately, he had indeed made progress; in the last Potions class, he had even brewed a pot that was barely excellent.

That was the only reason Snape had not driven him away immediately.

Sometimes, Snape would come here to watch this fellow's clumsy, agonizingly thoughtful practice.

Those idiot wizards thought he was in his office?

They didn't know that the secret passages of Hogwarts Castle were more numerous than the towers.

However, there was one thing he might never admit—

that while he believed himself to be watching a joke, he was actually silently monitoring the young wizard's safety.

"It failed..."

[You have completed brewing a batch of Scabrous Potion to the standard of an Apprentice. Proficiency +1]

In the dungeon, beside the cauldron, Sheen let out a sigh.

Yet he was not discouraged; he knew that success does not happen overnight.

He had indeed found inspiration, he just hadn't fully grasped it—

a change in one step has a chain reaction on others, and it was precisely his failure to adjust the other steps that caused the potion's quality to drop.

But as long as he had time to brew one more pot, he would surely succeed.

Just as he was cleaning the cauldron and regrouping,

the dungeon door was suddenly pushed wide open, slamming against the stone wall with a heavy thud.

Shadows flooded in before the figure, followed by the hem of a bat-like black robe, rolling in to swallow the faint light from the doorway.

Footsteps echoed on the damp stone floor, unhurried, yet carrying a rhythmic, judgmental pace.

Sheen was completely stunned.

His large emerald eyes watched blankly as Professor Snape walked toward him, step by step.

The dim light barely illuminated the sharp shadow cast by his hooked nose,

and lent an even greater chill to his somber words

"Sheen Green..."

His voice was like the flick of a viper's tongue.

The light in Sheen's eyes gradually dimmed.

He did not attempt to defend himself; he simply silently packed his ingredients, cleaned the cauldron, and prepared to leave the dungeon.

Sheen knew his choice was inherently dangerous;

if one is discovered, one must be prepared for the consequences.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape,"

Sheen said softly,

"I will leave at once."

With that, he slung his small black bag over his shoulder, ready to depart.

"Hmph—of course, if I were like you—"

Snape sneered,

"With such foolish potion-making and such loophole-ridden technique—I would feel utterly disgraced by it, and would not dare linger in this sacred place."

Hearing Professor Snape's words, Sheen did not react; he only felt a silent regret—that he was so close to succeeding.

"Escapism—is that your choice?"

Professor Snape suddenly spoke,

"If I were you, I would light the cauldron immediately—and increase the intensity of the stirring at the final stage, giving it one more full rotation."

Sheen was instantly stunned. His footsteps faltered, and he turned to look at Professor Snape in surprise.

Was Professor Snape... teaching him?

Without hesitation, Sheen set his bag down and was about to take out his ingredients when,

a bundle of ingredients suddenly floated onto the wooden table.

Sheen heard Professor Snape's cold voice

"If you dare to fail—"

Professor Snape's gaze was icy, seemingly a threat.

Yet Sheen didn't feel it at all.

He had always possessed the ability to ignore a person's outward appearance, a skill granted by his deep understanding of them.

Just like Hermione—she could indeed be somewhat condescending at times, enjoying giving instructions to others,

but beneath that arrogant attitude lay her sincere concern.

Just like Professor Snape—he was always accustomed to hiding his emotions behind sarcasm, favoritism, and hostility.

But no one could blame him for this, for not everyone possesses love.

Recalling Professor Snape's guidance in his mind,

the cauldron was relit, and bubbles began to rise once more.

This time, Sheen brewed the potion with continued fluidity.

A hint of satisfaction appeared on Snape's grim face.

Unlike those Gryffindors who bellowed like trolls, or those brainless, motionless Hufflepuffs,

Ravenclaws were always a bit smarter, and this young wizard before him was a standout among them.

He knew what he wanted, he took action, and he was...

extremely hardworking.

As the dark green liquid reappeared, Sheen couldn't help but feel nervous, until—

[You have completed brewing a batch of Scabrous Potion to the standard of a Journeyman. Proficiency +10]

[Scabrous Potion has been unlocked]

[A new Potion Domain Title has been unlocked. Please check]

[A Wizard Talent has been unlocked. Please check]

The sparks in the fireplace burned more brightly. Sheen still did not dare to be careless as he poured the potion into a crystal vial.

Only when the cauldron had completely cooled did Sheen gradually relax.

This caused Snape to nod slightly.

Before him,

Sheen was visibly a little excited; to think, he hadn't even used the improved ritual...

"Professor Snape, thank you,"

Sheen said sincerely, his clear eyes showing no emotion other than gratitude.

This caused Snape, who was about to turn and leave, to pause.

He didn't even offer a sarcastic remark for a moment, but instead gave Sheen a deeper look.

"You should be glad that you succeeded, otherwise—"

His sallow face shifted through various expressions, and a rare, complex emotion appeared in his eyes.

"Sheen Green, let me tell you a truth

Respecting yourself, even when you are a failure at potions,

gives you the power to change reality.

If you belittle yourself,

I swear,

the gates of Potions will never open to you—"

Even after leaving the dungeon, these words echoed in Sheen's mind, nearly shattering his stereotype of Professor Snape.

Under the massive oil paintings, amidst Sir Cadogan's incessant chatter,

Sheen couldn't help but recall Professor Snape once more

He was undoubtedly starved of love.

His tragedy lay in the fact that he spent his entire life longing for love, yet because of the lack of love in his childhood, he lost the ability to understand and express it.

He grasped at the one piece of love that was Lily, yet because of his own flaws and the tragedy of the era, he destroyed it with his own hands.

Ultimately, his life became a long and painful act of self-punishment, written in loyalty and courage.

His greatness lay in his astonishing courage and perseverance, but the underlying color of his character was undoubtedly that of the lonely boy in the cold house at Spinner's End, who had never been nourished by love.

And then what?

Could he simply define Professor Snape as a soulless, stagnant shell?

*Sheen,*

he said to himself,

*you are organizing your own prejudices and attempting to impose them upon a living, breathing person.*

(End of Chapter)