Jack was terrified.
Only when Professor Snape moved off to inspect another part of the dungeon did he grab Jerael, gasping softly, “Are you insane, talking to a professor like that?
Why couldn’t you just follow what’s in the textbook?
Ten points!
You can’t start deducting points for our house on our very first day!”
Seeing Jack on the verge of tears, Jerael blinked and offered a reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry.
I’ve made the Cure for Boils before—it isn’t hard.
I won’t lose any points for Ravenclaw.”
Before the term began, Jerael had successfully brewed the Cure for Boils under Grandpa Cora’s guidance.
Back then, however, he had been so enthralled by the magic itself that he paid little attention to ingredient preparation and had never considered such technical details.
Now, sitting in class and fully engaged in learning, those discrepancies naturally caught his attention.
Though Professor Snape had explicitly refused to answer his question, Jerael knew he should focus on completing the potion first.
Once he proved his competence, he could find another opportunity to ask.
The Cure for Boils took little time to brew, with most of the duration spent heating and cooling the liquid.
Thus, less than halfway through the lesson, Jerael had already finished his potion and sealed it in a glass vial.
Jack stared in wonder at the pink potion in Jerael’s hand, then glanced at the blackboard to confirm that it matched the professor’s required standard.
“You’re amazing, Jerael.”
Jerael smiled modestly, walked up to the podium, and presented the vial to Professor Snape.
Professor Snape showed no surprise.
He picked up the vial, held it up to his eyes, examined it closely, and finally uttered a single word: “Acceptable.”
Jerael nodded, thanked Professor Snape, and turned to head back to his desk.
“Take this,” Professor Snape said, giving his wand a sharp flick.
A sheet of parchment flew straight into Jerael’s hand.
“I trust Mr.
Print understands the importance of what is written here.
Your poor old professor hopes you realize he lacks the capacity to monitor your cauldron every second of the day.
After all, he has over thirty other students to attend to.”
Jerael found himself momentarily mesmerized.
Snape’s voice had not yet matured into the deep, cello-like resonance it would possess ten years down the line.
As a young man, his voice was silky smooth with a touch of crisp coolness, like ice cubes floating in coffee—crystalline and sharp.
It was surprisingly pleasant to listen to, causing Jerael to zone out briefly as he held the parchment.
“Now turn around, move your troll-like legs, and get back to your seat!” Snape’s sharp, annoyed bark snapped Jerael back to reality.
Clutching the parchment, Jerael hurried back to his desk.
That doesn’t make sense—you did better than any of us!” Jack asked anxiously.
“Not at all.
The professor answered my question and reminded me to practice safely,” Jerael replied with a smile, waving the parchment lightly.
A few young wizards in the front row turned around in utter bewilderment.
*Wait, wasn’t that clearly a harsh reprimand from Snape?
How on earth did Print interpret that as a friendly safety reminder?*
Still smiling, Jerael fetched another set of ingredients from the store cupboard, cleaned his cauldron, set it over the fire, and unrolled the parchment under his gaze.
[Grind snake fangs until they pass entirely through a thousand-mesh sieve.
Heating the potion to a boil is best achieved with bubbles two centimeters in diameter.
Extinguish the flame and cool to three times the ambient temperature of porcupine quills—this temperature best activates their magic.
Stirring should follow the potion’s natural flow, clockwise from the center of the cauldron outward to half its diameter.
The tip of your wand must submerge no deeper than half the potion’s depth.
Slugs must have grit and debris manually removed before being added, but preserve their surface mucus—it is optimal when mucus fully coats the slug.
Porcupine quills should have surface dust gently blown off; wiping them with paper leaves behind fibers that degrade potion quality.]
[Mr.
Print, since you are already privy to so many shortcuts, you will submit a twelve-inch essay before next Monday’s class explaining whether potion ingredients ought to be sliced, ground into powder, or perhaps whether Mr.
Print fancifully desires to shred them?]
Reading the homework assignment written in dark green, elegant, slender script at the bottom of the parchment, Jerael could almost picture Professor Snape standing before him, haughty and disdainful.
“Merlin’s beard, Jerael!
Professor Snape actually assigned you such a long essay!” Jack gasped suddenly beside him, causing Jerael to instinctively fold the parchment away.
This was a handwritten note from the century’s only certified Potions Master—he wasn’t about to leave it lying around for others to pry into.
Setting the parchment aside, Jerael decided to test the instructions written on it, activating his Byakugan as he did so.
Magic truly was extraordinary.
Through his special vision, Jerael marveled as the simple ingredients glowed with an increasingly brilliant magical light under different handling and brewing methods.
Strictly adhering to Snape’s guidance, Jerael used his wand to feel the liquid roiling and surging inside the cauldron.
Guided by its momentum, he stirred gently, circle after circle, until a vibrant pink hue emerged.
Satisfied, he extinguished the flame with a smile.
After bottling the liquid, Jerael held the vial up against the magical flames floating above the classroom.
Inside the liquid, tiny, glittering particles were evenly distributed, flowing slowly like a shimmering river.
Jerael suddenly realized how quiet the classroom had become.
Aside from the soft bubbling of a few cauldrons, not a single student was speaking.
Coming back to his senses, he turned around to find Professor Snape standing silently behind him, studying him with a searching gaze.
The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students had long forgotten their own cauldrons, staring wide-eyed at the only potion in the entire room that perfectly matched the textbook’s visual description of an ideal Cure for Boils.
Professor Snape reached out, took the vial, uncorked it, and took a subtle whiff.
“I must admit…
a perfect Cure for Boils,” Snape said slowly, his voice low and measured.
“Ten points to Ravenclaw.”
A surge of delight filled Jerael’s heart.
His line of thinking was correct.
The preparation of potion ingredients was indeed a discipline worthy of deep study.
Certain techniques were the product of a Potions Master’s personal experience and secret insights—things not necessarily found in standard textbooks.
If he kept striving in this direction, he might just earn the status of Snape’s personal apprentice down the line.
Jerael knew his own limitations.
He had only been fortunate enough to obtain the Byakugan as a cheat code; his actual innate talent and intuition for Potions weren’t particularly high.
He would do as much as he could.
Perhaps over time, Professor Snape would forgive his earlier bold behavior, Jerael thought optimistically.
The three-hour Potions class flew by.
Having finished his potion early, Jerael spent the rest of the period flipping through his textbook to preview future lessons.
Every now and then, a Ravenclaw student would sneak over to ask him for advice on brewing.
Jerael held nothing back, offering thorough, patient guidance.
Grateful students scurried back to share his tips with their partners, and word quickly spread until even Hufflepuffs were quietly creeping over to ask questions.
Seeing that Professor Snape turned a blind eye to this and tacitly permitted it, Jerael let out a secret sigh of relief.
He certainly didn’t want the professor accusing him of being lawless, overstepping his bounds, acting superior, or looking down on the instructor.
Gradually, soft cheers erupted across the dungeon as student after student successfully produced a passable Cure for Boils.
The disastrous potion accidents Jerael had worried about never came to pass.
By the end of the lesson, the students had safely completed their potions, Snape had fulfilled his instructional duties, and the Hospital Wing had gained a plentiful supply of standard potions.
It was a complete win for everyone.
When the bell rang, Snape cleared the classroom with a silent wave of his wand and departed without a word.
The young wizards broke into excited chatter.
“Jerael, Jim and I still don’t really get it.
What are we going to do?” Thomas walked over, pulling a crestfallen Jim along, as they joined Jerael on the way to the Great Hall for lunch.
“This is only the first class!
Potions is only going to get harder from here.”
Jerael understood their anxiety.
Coming from pureblood families, it was one thing to be outperformed by Ravenclaws, but falling to the bottom of their own house was disheartening.
Jerael had noticed that the two of them had barely managed to complete their potions just before the bell rang, making them the slowest in class.
Jerael found it somewhat puzzling—the Cure for Boils was hardly complex and required few ingredients, so he couldn’t see why they struggled so much.
However, a clever idea soon occurred to him.