“Where on earth did you read those Potions books to collect all his tricky questions like that?” Hermione whispered to Mason while putting on her gloves, grabbing a handful of dried nettles from the bag Severus Snape had prepared, and weighing them on the scales.
“I looked up the Dragonhide Grass myself because I was interested in it.
As for the rest…
I help him out in his office every day.” Snape was currently keeping a close eye on three pairs: Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, Harry and Ron, and finally Mason and Miss Know-it-all.
Seeing the professor walking toward them, Mason quickly shut his mouth.
Snape first inspected the snake fangs Mason had crushed.
The degree of pulverization was barely acceptable—a clear sign of laziness.
A higher-quality Cure for Boils required grinding the snake fangs for much longer.
And the amount of snake fangs used was blatantly excessive—*What on earth are you doing?*
The brewing process hadn’t even officially begun.
Mason needed to first scoop out the horned slugs floating amidst the rising bubbles for secondary processing, refill the cauldron with clean water, and start over with the dried nettles…
But what was Mason doing instead?
He scooped out the slugs, dumped clean water into the cauldron along with a generous portion of dried nettles, and then added water directly into the container holding the ground snake fangs, stirring the mixture together.
*Are you treating the textbook recipe as if it doesn’t exist?*
Hermione kept stirring her own cauldron, too busy to notice Mason’s actions.
It seemed she hadn’t realized she was being dragged down by Mason’s arrogance.
Snape decided to wait; unless the cauldron was a second away from exploding, he wouldn’t step in.
Adding ground snake fangs too early would neutralize the potion’s magical properties.
That step was meant to be performed after taking the cauldron off the heat and adding porcupine quills.
Once the crude mixture began to boil, Hermione started dropping in the steamed horned slugs.
*Ha, even the slugs aren’t cooked long enough!
Two fools who can’t do a thing without a textbook!*
When the potion boiled again, Mason took over looking after the cauldron.
As noted, the correct next step was to take the cauldron off the heat source, wait a moment, and then add the porcupine quills.
He had added too much water as well…
Having strolled around and praised Malfoy, Snape didn’t even bother to sneer aloud anymore.
He was already planning how many points to deduct from these two blockheads.
The potion boiled and continued to bubble, gradually turning a deep purple under the dual effects of magic and stirring.
If porcupine quills were mistakenly thrown in right now, the potion would react violently, vaporizing into dense green smoke while splashing everywhere.
“Bang—”
“Long—bot—tom!” Snape glided over to Harry’s side like a gust of wind, his voice drawn out.
Neville and another Gryffindor student were sitting right next to Harry and Ron.
“You idiot!
Why were you in such a hurry to add the porcupine quills!”
Harry was relatively lucky, but how could Snape let him off the hook?
After giving Harry a harsh scolding and docking a point, he ordered someone to help Neville to the hospital wing.
Once the residual mess was cleaned up, the lesson resumed.
Snape decided he would no longer indulge Mason, even if the boy was indeed quick with his hands…
Wait.
Why was the potion in that cauldron still boiling?
Was the remaining volume enough to brew three full doses?
Exercising caution, Snape pulled Hermione and Mason behind him.
Just as he opened his mouth to say something, he saw Mason pick up…
the container holding the soaked snake fang powder.
“Jones?” Snape frowned.
His wand was still out, giving him plenty of time to stop Mason from doing something stupid, but something suddenly struck him, and he stayed his hand.
Mason poured in all the ground snake fangs along with the water, ignoring the thick residue clinging to the container’s inner walls, and rapidly stirred the contents of the cauldron, which had ceased boiling.
The next second, Mason grabbed the porcupine quills.
*You complete fool, what are you doing?*
In the distance, Draco had been staring at them the whole time, his eyes fixed on Mason.
Having received private lessons from Snape, Draco could tell how outrageously non-compliant Mason’s actions were, and he was already preparing to watch the disaster unfold.
“Jones!” Snape shouted as he watched Mason throw the porcupine quills in.
A instant later, the purple potion seemed to bypass the heating process entirely, twisting and boiling with terrifying violence as thick, ominous green smoke rose into the air.
Because Mason kept a firm grip on the cauldron and continued stirring furiously with his right hand, Snape first shoved Hermione aside, then aimed his wand at the cauldron while forcefully grabbing Mason with his left hand.
“Stop this at once!”
“It’s almost done…
just a little bit more…” Mason was extremely tense, but he refused to let go, looking for all the world like he was prepared to blow himself up alongside the professor.
“Mason!” Harry couldn’t help calling out.
Although the thought of Snape getting blasted appealed to him, Mason would definitely be the one to suffer worse injuries.
Only Hermione stood her ground, firmly planted on the spot.
Mason had asked her earlier if she was willing to trust him just this once.
A violent reaction churned within the cauldron.
Because the dose Mason was brewing was much larger than Neville’s, if it exploded, half the students in the classroom would suffer.
Snape was tempted to knock Mason unconscious on the spot, and the surrounding students scrambled toward the sides of the classroom in panic.
Right at that moment, Mason finally lifted the cauldron off the heat.
A liquid bubbling with bizarre pink froth almost touched his fingers—the unmistakable sign of a successfully brewed Cure for Boils.
If Mason had transmigrated while playing Stardew Valley, this potion, once placed into his inventory, would carry the star representing the highest item quality—an iridium star.
Just right: enough volume to be divided into three doses.
Just right: the ground snake fang residue left behind in the container happened to be the small portion that hadn’t been fully pulverized.
Just right: keeping the violent reaction right on the razor’s edge before failure, perfectly purging all impurities from the potion.
Snape’s distaste for Mason deepened once more.
He had misjudged—Mason was an unquestionable genius, capable of brewing a perfect potion on his very first attempt.
Yet he was so arrogant and reckless that he disregarded his classmates’ lives, and even his own.
Such irrational behavior was the single worst trait a Potions master could possess; they ought to hold a restrained awe and respect for every experiment.
“Do not assume that tampering with textbook recipes will yield such favorable results next time.
Five points from Gryffindor!
And your detention is extended by half a month!”
A gem cannot be polished without friction.
Snape needed to correct Mason’s bad habits and steer him back onto the proper path a Potions master ought to walk.
At the very least, he shouldn’t stand on the front lines risking his life just to test a new potion recipe; that was work best left to a dime a dozen unpaid apprentices.
“What are you standing around for?
Everyone back to your seats!”
Only then did the stunned young wizards realize that Mason had actually succeeded in brewing the Cure for Boils—and right after Snape had explicitly warned them that those were the wrong steps.
There was no cold mockery or direct verbal abuse.
The Slytherins were terrified that their Head of House had been scared witless—was this really that sharp-tongued old bat?
And so, a certain clever fellow decided to replicate the process—
“You brainless idiot whose brain was eaten by a troll!
Are you blind to what’s written in the textbook?
If you want to copy a genius, you had better measure your own worth first!” Snape roared.
The familiar flavor was back.
Everyone understood then: only Mason received that kind of special treatment.
After class, Harry walked briskly out of the dungeon as if finally liberated.
Mason remained inside, explaining to Hermione the source of inspiration for his new technique and the fine details to watch for during the brewing process.
“A pity.
I was hoping to bring Mason along to Hagrid’s place…” Harry said.
Ron pointed at Snape, who was tidying up items on the podium.
“Didn’t you see how Snape looked at Mason?
He must be regretting that Mason didn’t end up in Slytherin.”
“Hagrid?
The gamekeeper?
Harry, do you know Hagrid?” Elaine suddenly appeared behind them, giving both boys a startle.
“He invited me over for tea this afternoon.
Want to come along?”
“Sure.” Elaine looked quite interested.