The potion they needed to make today was meant to treat boils, which had nothing to do with the questions Professor Snape had asked earlier.
"Work in pairs," Snape instructed, his voice as sharp as ever. "The required materials and steps are written on the blackboard."
The instructions were slightly different from those in the textbook, but the entire process didn't seem too difficult.
During the summer vacation, David had spent a lot of time reading about potions. However, the only thing he had actually made were energy cubes—an absolute necessity for him. He hadn't tried brewing any other potions. For one, the ingredients were often more diverse and time-consuming. More importantly, he hadn't had much use for them.
Now, in class, David partnered with Michael, and they divided the work efficiently.
David handled the snake fangs and porcupine quills, while Michael was in charge of the slugs with tentacles and dried nettles.
First, David placed six venomous snake fangs into the mortar and ground them into a very fine powder using the pestle. Then, he carefully cut the porcupine quills into segments of about three centimeters, as per the instructions on the blackboard. He worked with steady precision, following each step in an orderly fashion. Michael, on the other hand, had no trouble with his assigned tasks.
Professor Snape, his black cloak billowing behind him, stalked through the classroom like a looming shadow.
His sharp gaze flickered over the bubbling cauldrons, ever watchful for mistakes. Brewing potions was a delicate process, and even a small error could lead to a dangerous situation. He did not want any teaching accidents under his watch.
The disaster in Professor Flitwick's class just a few days ago was still fresh in his mind. He refused to be the next professor dealing with such chaos.
And yet, as Snape moved from table to table, chaos seemed to follow him.
"Finch-Fletchley, is your brain modeled after a troll's?" Snape snapped. "Let go of that! Porcupine quills don't need to be ground into powder!"
"Zabini, did you leave your brain in your dormitory, or are your eyes just for decoration? The instructions clearly state that the slugs should be steamed, not burned!"
Everywhere he went, students stiffened under his gaze, their hands trembling as they tried to follow the potion-making process.
It wasn't just Snape's sharp tongue that made them nervous—it was the sheer pressure of his presence. The closer he got, the more mistakes students seemed to make.
After surveying the room, Snape returned to the front of the class, his expression dark and full of disappointment.
"I had assumed that not all of you were completely incompetent," he said with a sneer. "I had hoped that at least one or two of you would display some level of skill. But clearly, I was mistaken. You are all fools."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
David nearly rolled his eyes. Apparently, teachers in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds loved using the phrase: 'You're the worst class I've ever taught.'
Meanwhile, David and Michael had finished preparing the ingredients. The potion had been brought to a steady boil.
Most of the brewing process had been handled by Michael, while David assisted on the side. It was clear that Michael had a natural talent for potions, though his cautious approach made the process slower than it needed to be. If David had done it himself, they probably would have finished much faster.
Still, they were making good progress.
On the other side of the room, Snape had stopped by Cassandra's workstation.
A cloud of pink smoke rose from her cauldron as the potion transformed from a murky consistency to a clear azure blue.
Snape's expression shifted slightly—his usual scowl easing just a bit.
Leaning forward, he waved his hand over the cauldron and sniffed the air.
A foul yet oddly familiar scent filled his nose—the distinct smell of rotten eggs.
"Slytherin, add twenty points," he announced without hesitation.
A murmur spread through the classroom.
David, from across the room, caught Cassandra's triumphant smirk.
He wasn't surprised. He had figured out her personality back on the Hogwarts Express—proud, competitive, and always eager to prove she was the best.
David could have finished his potion faster if he had worked alone. Michael's method was correct, but his slow, careful approach had set them back slightly. Still, it wasn't a race. They would finish soon enough.
Suddenly—
Zzzzt!
Bang!
A loud noise erupted behind Snape.
The classroom fell into chaos.
Neville and Seamus had been paired together, and it seemed that Neville had made a critical mistake. Their potion bubbled violently before overflowing, corroding the surface of the table. The cauldron itself had warped from the intense heat before Neville, in a panic, knocked it over completely.
The contents of the cauldron splashed everywhere.
The first victims of the accident? Neville himself—and, unfortunately, Professor Snape, who had been standing nearby.
The entire class gasped.
Students scrambled onto their stools to avoid the corrosive liquid now spreading across the floor.
Neville, however, was not so lucky. His robe was soaked with the failed potion, and angry red boils immediately erupted across his skin.
He let out a cry of pain, his face contorted in agony.
Snape, who had also been splashed, stood rigidly, his expression unreadable. His robes had protected most of his body, but his legs had taken some of the damage.
Still, he didn't react. He wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him in pain.
With a flick of his wand, he cleaned up the mess before rounding on Neville with fury.
"You idiot!" Snape thundered. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills without removing the cauldron from the fire first, didn't you?!"
Neville could barely respond—his face was now covered in boils, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
Seeing his miserable state, Snape exhaled sharply and refrained from further insults. Instead, he gestured for Seamus to take Neville to the hospital wing.
In reality, Snape should have been grateful for Neville's mistake.
Had Seamus been the one to add the ingredient instead, the cauldron might have exploded, endangering the entire classroom.
Still, Snape found someone to blame.
"You," he said, turning toward Harry. "Why didn't you warn him?"
Harry's jaw tightened, his fists clenching.
It was completely unfair. But arguing with Snape was pointless.
"Five points from Gryffindor."
The deduction stung, but Harry knew better than to protest.
David, on the other hand, remained unaffected by the whole ordeal.
He calmly moved his own cauldron away from the fire, extinguished the alcohol lamp, and added the porcupine quills. Carefully, he stirred the mixture clockwise five times.
A puff of pink smoke rose from the cauldron.
Their potion was finished.
At the same time, something unexpected happened.
A glowing message appeared before David's eyes:
[Achievement Unlocked: Potion]
The liquid that excites and confuses the mind is certainly a potion.
Achievement Goal: Create a potion (1)
Achievement Reward: Random potion formula
David blinked in surprise.
Wait… the energy cubes I made before didn't count as potions?
Clearly, he had used a similar brewing method before. And this time, he hadn't even worked alone—Michael had contributed just as much.
Yet, it still counted.
He checked his newly acquired potion formula.
Bafe Brain Refresher
David's eyes widened.
A potion that could enhance brain function.
In the game, it had the effect of eliminating one incorrect answer in class.
But in reality, increasing brain power meant improving memory, learning ability, and mental agility. It could enhance spellcasting speed and help master new spells more efficiently.
Even after the potion's effects wore off, the knowledge and skills gained during that time would remain.
An incredibly useful potion.
The ingredients?
Simple.
All he needed was oil and frog brains.
David smirked.
This was going to be interesting.
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