The dungeons were always damp and chilly, with yellowish stains creeping across the stone walls.
Shelves lined the room, cramd with oddly shaped glass vials filled with unnaable stuff—so bubbling away, others just sitting there, quietly settling at the bottom.
Steam from the cauldrons hung thick in the air, making Professor Snape's face look even more shadowy and unpredictable.
"Sean, we've got this!"
Justin whispered so encouragent to himself and Sean, but Sean spotted the slight tremble in his friend's hand right away.
He got it, though—last ti, they'd ended up with a whole pot of blue potion, and Snape had torn into them for it.
"Want to help with the ingredients?"
Justin asked, his voice edged with nerves.
Sean just shook his head lightly. "I'll knock it out quick."
Justin didn't push, instead watching Sean like a hawk as he prepped the materials, lit the cauldron, and dialed in the heat—just like out of a textbook, smooth and spot-on.
Compared to the other kids around them, who were all fumbling around with worried looks, Sean's pace was at least three tis faster.
Potions was this precise, no-nonsense branch of magic. A decent potioneer had to know a ton of complicated stuff, which was why Snape ran the class like a drill sergeant. If the kids didn't stick to the exact steps, who knew what those magical ingredients might do in the bubbling cauldron? Probably sothing only rlin himself could predict.
So most of the young witches and wizards just followed the recipe like robots, and only once they got the hang of it did the real magic of potions start to unfold.
But Sean? He was totally lost in it, his focus locked on this mysterious side of magic. Expert ingredient handling, perfect heat control, just the right stir, and timing down to the second...
The cauldron gurgled and bubbled happily. Justin watched every move, jotting it all down and playing assistant—handing over bits and keeping ti.
While everyone else was still scrambling with their basics, Sean and Justin were already dropping in the last porcupine quill.
Snape's sharp eyes caught the unusual speed right away. His gloomy, piercing gaze flicked to the cauldron, and in a split second, he could tell the potion's fate: passable, but nothing special.
He let out a cold snort and looked away.
"Here we go."
Sean's brew had hit the final—and trickiest—stage. But instead of the old-school ritual passed down for ages, his mind flashed to Master Libacius Borrage's controversial tweak.
Sean murmured the incantation, kicking off the ritual. This was his first real shot at the improved version.
His concentration was sharper than ever, like he was so weary apothecary slaving over a cure for scabies. As that raw emotion poured in naturally, the potion shifted deep down— the blue-green liquid thickened up, turning into this clear, jelly-like goo without a speck of impurity.
[You've brewed a full pot of Scabies Solution to journeyman's standards. Proficiency 10.]
Justin's breath hitched; he stared hard, comparing it to the sample Snape had shown in class.
It was a dead ringer.
"Sean, did we nail it?"
He whispered, all tense and quiet.
"Yeah."
A wave of bone-deep exhaustion crashed over him, like he hadn't slept in three days. Master Libacius Borrage didn't ss around.
"Aweso! I knew we'd pull it off!"
Justin let out a huge sigh of relief, carefully bottling the potion in a crystal vial. Then he stood tall, chin up, waiting for Snape's inspection—nothing like last ti, when he'd been all shaky and pale. It even brought a tired smile to Sean's face.
"You lot done already?"
That's when Sean noticed Michael peeking over, with Terry glancing their way a beat late.
"Of course—Sean brewed a perfect—"
Justin's words caught in his throat.
Because the storm cloud had rolled in.
Snape's tall fra blocked out the light, his icy stare silencing the whole group of kids around them.
"Perfect—"
Snape snatched up the vial, his mouth twisting into that usual sneer... but then it just... vanished. He froze, staring.
If that earlier batch was just okay, this one? It cleared the bar for outstanding.
What a terrifying leap...
"Barely acceptable—"
Snape set the vial down, his voice grinding out like it hurt. "One point... to each of you."
His robes billowed as he swept away.
"Did I hear that right...?"
Michael's eyes went wide.
The kids nearby gawked in disbelief.
"This is great, Sean—we got those points back!"
Justin was buzzing, clearly still hung up on the deduction.
Sean just nodded, his eyes drifting to the panel floating in his view:
[Scabies Solution: Unlocked (15/30)]
Halfway there. If he kept up journeyman-level brews, two more runs and he'd unlock the potioner title.
...
If Snape awarding Ravenclaw a point was just a blip, then by the ti Michael's hype machine got going, it turned into Snape forking over two hundred Galleons to Sean and whipping up two dishes for him.
The rumors buzzed right through afternoon History of Magic.
That class had basically turned into a no-holds-barred gossip fest, full of that electric vibe.
The kids weren't just yapping about Sean, but every snippet that drifted his way left him speechless.
"Soloed a mountain troll and walked away unscathed—took down a werewolf barehanded—"
Even Michael, the rumor king himself, froze when he heard that one. Do you guys even know what you're saying?
Then he leaned in with a grin. "A mountain troll? Pfft, make it three!"
He said it all straight-faced.
Justin was turning beet red next to Sean, trying not to crack up.
Sean sighed and dove back into his History of Magic notes. He'd built the skeleton, filled in the key bits, but it wasn't quite polished yet.
Tuesday's History of Magic had a tweak—Hufflepuff was paired with Ravenclaw this ti, so Justin couldn't stop sneaking peeks at Sean's notes. The kid even broke it down into sub-sections.
All the figures and events lined up on a tiline, but Sean had gone further with a custom index table, sorting events and people into categories with page cross-references.
Like the one Justin was glued to now: [Monster Booklet], covering oddballs like the Warlock Yuri and the Warlock Windlin, among a few others.
Justin was hooked, flipping through like it was a novel. History of Magic didn't feel dry anymore—no more getting tangled up in the ssy web of nas and dates.
Sotis he'd spot Sean's side notes too—like comparing two beast experts: Lady Elfrida Clagg and Mr. Newt Scamander. What made their work different?
And how did those contributions stack up to shape the Ministry's new regs? Sean laid it all out, crystal clear.
It was the kind of studying that sucked you in.
Out of nowhere, Justin muttered, "Sean, this could totally get published. I've never seen History of Magic this fun!"
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