Chapter 35: Heretical Knowledge

Wizard Sean’s potion brewing plan went even smoother than expected,

due to an accidental mishap during Friday morning’s Potions class—

Neville had accidentally soaked himself in the potion, his arms and legs covered in swollen boils—

so Professor Snape had gone to the infirmary.

According to Jia Jia Siting’s hurried account:

Professor Snape would be staying there for a while, giving Wizard Sean at least three hours to brew his potion.

The dungeon was still cold,

but Wizard Sean’s enthusiasm burned unchanged; he swiftly retrieved his ingredients, books, and lit the cauldron,

while Jia Jia Siting remained in the infirmary, keeping watch for Professor Snape,

and Wizard Sean had to push himself to gain as much proficiency as possible.

Wizard Sean thought,

once he mastered potion brewing and showed his progress in the next Potions class,

Professor Snape would surely let him brew in the dungeon like the older wizards—

after all, he was Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor.

As long as it was reasonable and didn’t break school rules, Professor Snape wouldn’t deliberately make things hard for young wizards.

Of course,

unless your name was Potter.

“Light the cauldron, prepare the ingredients…”

For these steps, Wizard Sean was already proficient; the only thing worth noting was—

heat control and stirring.

Last night, he had combed through the entire Advanced Potion-Making Making Guide,

until he froze on the page of Master Libashu Polaqi’s profound words:

【Different potions require different preparation methods;

in fact, since ancient times,

physical phenomena lacking metaphysical insight are as unsatisfying as metaphysics lacking physical expression】

Behind this obscure passage, on a page that appeared suddenly like a sticky note,

was written a passage that amounted to a revolution in practical potion-making:

【Every potion master must know that heat control is vital to brewing;

if anyone could use a fire charm to brew perfect potions,

but as I said in Let Yourself Have a Bottle Carnival,

if you lose the peculiar intuition provided by magic, the cauldron becomes as unacceptable as scrap iron…】

Wizard Sean flipped quickly—the key part leapt off the page:

【Though this passage was once mocked as something only “foolish wizards” needed to learn,

and never accepted by tradition, let me say: fuck them!

If you’re reading this, I’ll reveal to you that

a cauldron with automatic ignition can achieve perfect heat control】

Wizard Sean’s reaction to this passage was no different from Harry discovering the Half-Blood Prince’s notes, Hermione discovering the Time-Turner, or Tom discovering Advanced Dark Magic Revealed…

“I—have everything I need!”

Wizard Sean focused on brewing the slime and preparing ingredients,

his stirring no longer random, but adjusted according to the techniques Professor Snape had revealed,

his heat control no longer following vague standards, but guided by Master Libashu Polaqi’s instructions.

The dungeon had little light, but just enough to illuminate the young wizard’s figure,

the cauldron exhaled thin, curling wisps of steam, soft and elegant as silk,

amid a gentle bubbling and Wizard Sean’s quiet breaths, the potion turned once more to a pale blue-green,

Wizard Sean knew this was the most critical moment—

he used the exact same technique as before, added the slime, and began the final stir.

In the cold underground,

shelves lined with glass jars held twisted roots, beast eyes, or shimmering strange scales.

A single cold droplet seeped from a moss-covered crack in the ceiling,

landing precisely on the back of Wizard Sean’s neck,

yet he felt nothing; his mind and spirit, like the incantation he whispered and the magic he channeled, sank into the misty vapor.

【You successfully brewed a dose of Boil-Cure Potion to beginner standard, proficiency +3】

The interface's prompt pulled Wizard Sean from his trance; he stared intently at the emerald-green, jelly-like liquid.

He understood: the hardest step was done.

What remained was simple: maintain this level, stabilize his potion-brewing skill,

and finally transform his White Trash Talent.

Wizard Sean’s heart burned with fervor, yet his speed in packing up and leaving was swift.

All ingredients vanished into his bag in an instant,

the Boil-Cure Potion carefully poured into a crystal vial,

Wizard Sean raised his wand:

“S—cour—g—ify!”

The cauldron instantly returned to its original state; Wizard Sean carefully placed Advanced Potion-Making Making Guide and Magical Potions and Potables into his bag.

Now he knew the difference between the eight Jin Jin Jialong Advanced Potion-Making Making Guide and the two Jin Jin Jialong Magical Potions and Potables.

He checked the dungeon once more, confirming no trace remained.

As the air warmed slightly, Jia Jia Siting’s anxious face appeared with the sunlight,

and upon seeing Wizard Sean, he visibly relaxed.

“Good, Wizard Sean—did it go well?”

he panted.

“Yeah.”

Wizard Sean nodded.

At the same time, down the corridor, a man with greasy yellow hair and a hooked nose strode forward,

and every young wizard who saw him quietly stepped aside.

Wizard Sean and Jia Jia Siting watched Professor Snape walk into the dungeon,

both of them acting like thieves.

“Mother says the bond forged by doing bad things is always stronger than the one forged by doing good ones.”

Jia Jia Siting laughed first,

then paused, thinking,

“Though this isn’t bad, the result is the same.”

?

Wizard Sean gave him a strange look,

what on earth had Mrs. Fenli taught him?

…

In the magical world, the word “science” was never accepted; even a discipline like Potions, requiring deep science and precise craftsmanship,

was often rejected for its overly metaphysical dialectics.

Hmm,

these weren’t Wizard Sean’s words—they were spoken by Master Libashu Polaqi, author of Advanced Potion-Making,

The Asian Making Guide to Antitoxins, and Let Yourself Have a Bottle Carnival!

His heat control had greatly benefited Wizard Sean, so before lunch even began,

Wizard Sean planned to visit the library to read his other two books.

If only there were more notes like the “heretical” scraps hidden inside Advanced Potion-Making…

On Friday, Hogwarts Library always carried a peculiar atmosphere unique to the eve of the weekend—mixing urgency and laziness.

Perhaps young wizards had finally realized they couldn’t finish assignments without the library,

and the oak tables were nearly full.

Students hunched over their desks were everywhere,

the scratch of quills on parchment the dominant sound.

Fifth- and seventh-year students wore obvious anxiety, their desks piled high with books,

and first-years were no less intense, occasionally one would cry, “A foot-long History of Magic essay?!”

only to be “escorted” out of the library by Madam Pince.