Chapter 102: The Same Knowledge

Professor Snape was not always detested by the little wizards; at the very least, Wizard Sean hoped to encounter this Potions master in the dungeons.

Although he loved to mock, the knowledge he imparted never vanished.

This knowledge stemmed from years of accumulation by a Potions Master; it was always precisely what was needed, benefiting Wizard Sean greatly.

At dusk, the corridors of Hogwarts sank into a lazy, warm atmosphere.

The setting sun cast golden rays through the towering arched windows, throwing long patches of light onto the cold stone floor.

At the edge of the distant Forbidden Forest, outlines began to blur as a thin layer of twilight spread from among the trees, slowly swallowing the tops of the tall pine trees one by one.

Carrying a small black bag, Wizard Sean brushed past the rowdy little wizards.

As he passed, several Hufflepuffs looked up to gaze at him, remaining silent for a moment.

An orphan boarding at the school would not have many opportunities to earn money.

The money-making methods Wizard Sean could think of were roughly:

Doing homework for others—though the income was low, and competitors might exist.

Acting as a proxy buyer—this required knowing some secret passages, and Wizard Sean suspected the twins might have already entered this trade.

The method he favored most was going to the greenhouses; Professor Sprout was quite willing to give little wizards some seeds, which Wizard Sean could grow himself and then sell.

Earning Galleons was an important matter, but if earning money occupied time meant for studying magic,

Wizard Sean would feel the loss outweighed the gain.

Just like with his History of Magic notes, Wizard Sean would not rush to perfect them simply because he needed to earn Galleons.

Magical history itself was fascinating enough; if one could not brew a sincere work over a long period but instead churned out a product for profit,

it would be hard to define that as a good thing.

Thus, Professor Snape's words arrived at such a timely moment:

"Even some clumsy potions will not lack wizards who desire them..."

The last time Professor Snape finished this sentence, Wizard Sean's eyes had instantly brightened considerably, causing a certain Potions professor to pause for a second.

The surrounding environment gradually grew cold and dim as Wizard Sean pushed open the dungeon door.

He did not see the figure of a certain Potions Master, which left him slightly disappointed.

However, this did not affect his deft extraction of materials and lighting of the cauldron.

Professor Snape's guidance could certainly double his learning progress, but without a solid foundation, profound understanding and mastery were impossible.

Melodious white steam once again drifted in wisps through the dungeons; the scene here seemed unchanged since the tenth century,

with only the figures before the cauldrons constantly changing, the sole constant being their focused eyes.

Well, two pairs of them.

Deep within the dungeon, beside a row of oddly shaped specimens, a pair of gloomy eyes emerged,

now frequently lingering for longer periods beside Wizard Sean's cauldron, silently observing every step.

Progress, tremendous progress, stemming from almost clumsy, stubborn effort...

Just as Wizard Sean was about to stew the slugs, a cold voice arrived:

"Has your intelligence sunk so low that you cannot even recognize a slug? It is on the left side of the second shelf—"

Wizard Sean paused, looked up at the high shelf, and then used the Levitation Charm to carefully bring down the glass jar.

"Your impoverished vision can only collect inferior materials;

next time I see you using those inferior materials to profane exquisite potions...

Wizard Sean Green—you had better get out of my dungeons in advance!"

Wizard Sean naturally ignored Professor Snape's sarcasm, slightly stunned—

What strange occurrence was this? Professor Snape was actually willing to let him use his own materials?

Well,

Wizard Sean thought,

it seems the professors of Hogwarts are all hidden wealthy individuals.

As Wizard Sean once again immersed himself in brewing the potion, Professor Snape also fell into a rare silence.

He would not forget that technique; although it was merely a clumsy imitation of his own,

this was something unprecedented. Few wizards were clever enough to record every detail of his potion brewing during class.

Constant imitation and constant correction were nearly the universal path to success.

The wizard before him was not a Potions genius, but could be called a solitary student who equally loved Potions.

Snape had casually observed him;

he cared nothing for interpersonal relations, caring only for the cauldron before him. Such a demeanor made it hard for Snape not to see shadows of the boy from Spinner's End.

Coupled with those stupid Gryffindors creating stupid explosions in Potions class,

especially Harry Potter, who actually failed to stop his idiot friends in advance!

It was clearly a provocation!

Thus, the brows of Professor Snape, often furrowed tight from mockery and dissatisfaction, eased slightly.

The cauldron bubbled with a gurgle, the thick liquid gradually turning dark green.

Wizard Sean focused intently on controlling the heat; the cauldron control techniques from Master Libatius Borage could nearly elevate the quality of the potion by a leap.

Yet this caused Professor Snape's pupils to contract:

"Where did you learn such heat control? I do not recall teaching you this!"

Wizard Sean's heart tightened.

Terrible.

Could it be that Professor Snape did not approve of Master Libatius Borage's philosophy on heat control?

Wizard Sean remembered that in the original story, when Professor Snape used Master Borage's book, he had made extensive annotations within it to improve the potion-making methods described.

"Advanced Potion-Making, Professor."

Wizard Sean admitted.

"Hmph—"

Professor Snape sneered coldly.

"The heat in the final step was too low, and the stirring direction in step three was reversed. Do it again! Are your eyes merely decorations?"

Wizard Sean was stunned; Professor Snape actually knew about these hidden aspects as well?

He did not hesitate, quickly overturning his work to start over.

Two hours later.

[You have successfully brewed a pot of Cure for Boils to the standard of a proficient hand. Proficiency +10]

"Thank you, Professor."

This was the second pot of proficient-level Cure for Boils Wizard Sean had brewed, reaching the standard for sale.

Professor Snape reclaimed his potion under the name of the Hogwarts Fixed Potion Reclamation Regulation.

Although Wizard Sean suspected this was made up on the spot,

the professor had given him a huge sum of three Galleons.

Thus, without saying a word, he carefully placed the Galleons in his bag, silently thinking that potions were truly a highly profitable industry in the magical world.

Snape looked at the cautious little wizard, his face written with "Hmph—no ambition."

After the potion was completed, he once again examined that barely passable brew, the corner of his mouth pulling into a cold arc.

His voice was like a rustling sound within the dungeons, hoarse and full of malice:

"It seems that even the most barren soil can occasionally, by sheer luck, squeeze out something decent.

An acceptable finished product merely means you have barely crossed the abyss of incompetence, not that you have stepped into the hall of Potions.

Do not use 'arrogance' to numb your nerves. Otherwise, regret will be the only cure—

Wizard Sean Green—mediocrity is a choice, and here, I absolutely will not accept those who choose to be mediocre."