"Children, exams are a way to assess your abilities. You need to be prepared for them."
Professor Binns, for once, said something meaningful at the end of class.
"But during an exam, if you so much as glance at someone else, you'll be hit with the most vicious curse imaginable."
"History of Magic is dull—just like my life. However, I must remind you that if you can't remember certain complex historical details, then simply stretch your neck a little."
"If an answer happens to fall into your line of sight by sheer coincidence, then that's Merlin's way of rewarding your good character."
Professor Binns' voice remained as lifeless as ever. After saying this, he turned and drifted away.
However, his advice instantly threw the students into a frenzy.
"What? What does he mean by that?"
"Is he… telling us to cheat?"
"No way! A professor would never encourage that."
"Maybe it's only allowed for History of Magic?"
Amid the commotion, Dylan blinked in surprise.
"This feels… oddly familiar. It's just like what my history teacher said before my college entrance exams. Almost word for word."
Harry and Ron were also having a heated discussion with Hermione.
Hermione, of course, was adamantly denying that Professor Binns was suggesting they cheat. Or rather, she refused to believe that was his true intention.
"He definitely meant it that way! This is great—my History of Magic grade is saved!" Ron declared confidently.
"Same here! Who can even stay awake in that class?" Harry nodded in agreement. "Even Dylan can't focus completely!"
Dylan rolled his eyes. "You two can say whatever you want, but leave me out of it. Even without looking at anyone else's answers, my score wouldn't be that bad."
"He's not wrong." Ron pouted.
### **Weekend at Snape's Office**
As always, the weekend arrived in a flash.
Dylan found himself standing in front of Professor Snape's office door.
"Professor, I'm here."
He pushed the door open and called out.
The familiar scent of herbs and mysterious potions immediately filled the air.
Dim candlelight flickered over shelves packed with odd-shaped glass containers, casting eerie shadows across the room.
At the sound of Dylan's voice, Professor Snape looked up from his heavy Potions textbook, his sharp gaze piercing like a hawk's. He merely grunted in acknowledgment and motioned for Dylan to take a seat.
In the corner of the room, Dylan's usual cauldron and tools were already set up, prepared for his arrival. It was a routine they had settled into—whenever Dylan came on weekends, everything he needed would be ready.
Dylan moved his cauldron closer but didn't start brewing right away. Instead, he set his tools aside for the moment and glanced at Snape.
Hmm… His hair looks a lot fresher and more voluminous lately. Nice.
Dylan's gaze flickered over Snape's black hair before he spoke naturally, "Professor, today we're—"
Mid-sentence, something on Snape's desk caught his attention. A single sheet of white paper stuck out from under a stack of books, positioned oddly as if it had been hastily tucked away.
He didn't think much of it and continued, "What potion are we brewing today?"
"Hellbroth. Do you remember the exact steps?"
Snape didn't waste time on small talk. The conversation immediately shifted to potions.
Dylan hesitated, trying to recall the formula.
"Uh…"
Maybe it was because he had stayed up late sneaking into the Forbidden Forest last night to feed Arno. Hagrid had been so happy cuddling the creature that he wouldn't let go, and Dylan had ended up getting back to his dorm way too late.
Hearing the potion's name now made his mind go blank for a moment.
Before he could answer, Snape's sharp voice cut through the silence.
"Hmph. You can't even remember such a basic potion? What, have you been too busy watching Harry Potter make a fool of himself every day?"
"Uh…" Dylan had no idea how to respond.
He could swear on Voldemort's grave that he had never wasted time observing Harry's supposed foolishness.
In fact, had Harry even done anything that stupid?
Compared to other Gryffindors, Harry was actually quite decent.
Of course, by Snape's impossibly high standards, probably no Gryffindor could ever meet his expectations.
"Listen carefully." Though Snape's words were harsh, he still began explaining the potion's process in detail.
From handling Venomous Tentacula to precisely measuring Sneezewort, he went over every step meticulously.
Then came the actual brewing.
Today, Dylan was tasked with brewing an **Enhancement Potion**—a potion that temporarily boosted physical endurance and stamina, making it useful for extended magical tasks.
—Like tracking someone, perhaps?
Lots of running and climbing would definitely drain energy.
Originally, Snape had planned to teach him how to brew **Hellbroth**.
But if Dylan couldn't even recall the details before starting, there was no way he could produce a perfect batch.
With a flick of his black robes, Snape retrieved the necessary ingredients.
Dylan carefully laid them out on the table one by one.
First was powdered **Moonstone**—a fine, shimmering blue dust that sparkled like fragments of the night sky.
Using a small scoop, Dylan carefully poured it into the preheated cauldron. Snape stood nearby, watching with an intensity sharp enough to scrutinize the weight of every grain.
"Hurry up. Don't let the cauldron overheat." Snape's cold voice snapped.
**Professor, I'm already going as fast as I can!** Dylan groaned internally but kept working.
Next was a fresh **Lion's Mane Herb**—a plant with long, fine leaves covered in tiny hairs, resembling a lion's mane.
Following the steps in his memory, Dylan began cutting the leaves into small sections, making sure each slice was even.
But—
"That's too thick! Do you think you're chopping vegetables in a kitchen?" Snape's deep voice suddenly hissed, startling Dylan into nearly dropping the knife.
**Merlin's beard, I'll never get used to how his voice slides into my ears like that.**
Snape strode over, took the knife from Dylan, and demonstrated how it should be done with practiced precision.
Professor Snape truly lived up to his title as a Potions Master. His handling of ingredients was swift and precise—every leaf was sliced to perfection, each piece uniform in thickness.
"Did you see that clearly?" Professor Snape cast a glance at Dylan, his expression indifferent, his tone flat. "If you mess up again, I'll cut you up and toss you into the cauldron myself."
Dylan, however, wasn't the least bit afraid. He grinned. "I saw it clearly, Professor. But I don't think you'd actually do that."
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Then hurry up and stir your cauldron. Or do you need me to hold your hand and teach you?"
"If you'd be willing to, Professor…" Dylan muttered.
Snape's eyes instantly became dangerously narrow.
Dylan immediately stood at attention, carefully adding the ingredients to the cauldron before stirring in a slow and steady rhythm.
As the potion began to simmer, a faint purple foam bubbled to the surface, releasing a unique aroma—a mix of minty freshness and the soothing scent of lavender.
The smell was promising, a sign that the potion was coming along smoothly.
Perhaps this time, he would successfully brew a high-quality batch.
Dylan watched the cauldron closely, gripping the stirring rod, ready to react at any moment.
"Don't be so hasty," Snape's voice rang out again. "The heat isn't there yet. Unless you want this potion to turn into a worthless, lumpy mess?"
"I won't be providing you with another set of ingredients."
Dylan wasn't fazed by Snape's words. He remained fully focused on the potion, watching as it steadily approached the crucial moment.
Finally, it was time to add the key ingredient—dragon's blood.
Dylan carefully unsealed the small vial.
The dragon's blood inside was a deep, dark red, like molten fire frozen in time, radiating an ancient and formidable energy.
Following Snape's earlier instructions, he meticulously dripped in three drops.
The moment each drop hit the potion, the liquid roared to life, surging violently. The purple foam expanded rapidly, nearly overflowing from the cauldron.
"Stir! Counterclockwise! Now!"
Snape's sharp command rang out, and Dylan sprang into action.
His movements were steady—after all, he had been drilled by Snape for long enough.
Dylan stirred rapidly, following every instruction precisely.
As he continued, the potion's color stabilized, deepening into a rich, mesmerizing crimson-purple. A faint golden sheen shimmered on the surface, like a lake kissed by the sunset.
The enhancement potion was finally complete.
"Not bad," Snape remarked, glancing down at the cauldron. His nose twitched slightly as he took in the scent.
Though his tone remained cold, there was an almost imperceptible flicker of approval in his eyes.
After concentrating so intensely for so long, Dylan felt exhaustion creeping in. But hearing Snape's acknowledgment, however reluctant, filled him with a quiet sense of satisfaction.
Under Snape's strict guidance, Dylan realized he had taken yet another step forward in his understanding of potion-making.
"Move aside. I'll be storing this potion myself," Snape said.
Dylan blinked. Normally, Snape let him keep the potions he brewed, but this time, he was handling it personally?
Still, Dylan obediently stepped back.
After all, the ingredients had been provided by Snape, so technically, the finished potion belonged to him anyway.
He retreated a couple of steps and stood near the desk, watching as Snape gracefully collected the potion with practiced precision.
With nothing else to do, Dylan glanced around the room.
His eyes landed on a sheet of paper, partially hidden beneath a stack of books.
Though Snape's office was filled with various items, everything was meticulously arranged—neat and orderly.
Something carelessly stuffed under a pile of books, sticking out at odd angles, seemed out of place.
Like a stain on an otherwise pristine white shirt.
Curious, Dylan nudged the books aside slightly, revealing more of the paper.
"Huh? A schedule?"
Dylan looked closer—it seemed to be some kind of planner.
He started reading from the top.
**(3:00-4:00) Personal Potion Research**
"...Wait, Professor Snape starts researching potions at three in the morning? What time does he even go to sleep?" Dylan muttered in disbelief.
He had a feeling he was looking at something he probably shouldn't be.
His eyes moved down the list.
**(4:00-5:00) Personal Potion Research**
**(5:00-7:00) Planning how to punish those lovable Gryffindors**
—this part was crossed out and replaced with—
**Thinking about Lily.**
"…"
Dylan: ???
**(7:00-8:00) Breakfast in the Great Hall**
**(8:00-9:00) Teaching a bunch of dumber kids**
**(9:00-10:00) Teaching a bunch of even dumber kids**
**(10:00-11:00) Annoying the white-bearded old man**
**(11:00-12:00) Lunch in the Great Hall**
**(15:00-16:00) Teaching until I feel like throwing up**
**(18:00-19:00) Detaining Gryffindors**
Before Dylan could finish reading, a chilling presence loomed behind him.
Snape's voice suddenly sounded right next to his ear.
"What are you looking at?"
Dylan stiffened instinctively, answering immediately, "N-Nothing, Professor."
He turned around hastily, only to find Snape glaring at the spot where the schedule had been.
A cold aura radiated from the Potions Master, sending a shiver down Dylan's spine.
"What exactly did you see?" Snape's deep, magnetic voice carried a dangerous edge.
"Nothing! I hadn't even started reading yet, Professor!" Dylan blurted out, then realized he had spoken too quickly. He quickly corrected himself, "I mean… if you're referring to that piece of paper."
Without a word, Snape reached for the paper.
Without even drawing his wand, the parchment ignited instantly, burning into ash within seconds, leaving not a single trace behind.
"Look at me."
Snape's dark eyes bore into Dylan.
Dylan panicked but forced himself to lift his head.
**Legilimens! Legilimens!**
**Just read my mind already and be done with it!**
Accidentally, he discovered Professor Snape's little secret.
If he couldn't get through this, he might actually be killed by Professor Snape!!
Dylan's magic flowed invisibly through his mind, interfering with his soul.
Professor Snape stared at Dylan for a moment. Sensing no hint of deception in the boy's emotions, he raised an eyebrow slightly.
Was this kid actually telling the truth?
He was a little surprised.
After a brief silence, Professor Snape was the first to break it. "Ahem, that was just some nonsense scribbled by a foolish Gryffindor student in my class. I confiscated it."
Dylan blinked. "Professor, you don't need to explain to me."
Uh…
Snape was momentarily stunned.
That was true.
The boy hadn't even seen what was written on the paper!
Realizing this, the last trace of awkwardness in Professor Snape instantly disappeared, replaced once again by his usual cold and stern demeanor.
"Enough. You don't need to clean the cauldrons. Leave."
"As you command!"
Dylan wanted to run out immediately but knew he couldn't make it too obvious. Instead, he started packing up his things.
"Wait."
Just as he was about to say goodbye, Professor Snape suddenly spoke.
Dylan froze mid-movement, then turned back with a forced smile. "Professor, is there something else? Do you need my help with anything?"
"No, you're of no help to me at all," Snape said coolly, glancing at him. "Starting next week, I'll be teaching you truly advanced Potions. Also, take this booklet and read it."
Professor Snape pulled a small booklet from a pile of books and handed it to him.
Dylan reached out to take it, assuming it was Snape's handwritten notes on Potions. Excited, he quickly flipped it open—only to find that it had nothing to do with Potions at all. Instead, it was…
"Occlumency?!"
(End of Chapter)