The fire was extinguished and Ian wiped the ent sweat from his forehead.

  “If it weren’t for me, this potion would have been ruined!”

  Just as a wand must be wielded with precision, so too must a cauldron’s fme be carefully trolled.

  Reguting the heat is an art.

  Whether in potion-making or cooking, mastery of temperature is crucial. It is the defining factor between success and failure. In Ian’s view, it is a delicate bance of responsibility and skill. And, as luck would have it, his personal progress reflected his dedication.

  [Potions Mastery (Level 2) 65/200]

  Ian had beeiculously following every step of the brewing process.

  After all, Practice makes perfect.

  Regardless of others’ opinions, the signifit increase in his skill spoke for itself. This was, without a doubt, a thhly satisfying potion-brewing experience!

  “We’re brilliant, finishing first. And the quality looks excellent.”

  Ian, absorbed in his achievement, failed to notiape’s expression darkening nearby— his teeth ched so tightly it seemed they might turn to dust. Meanwhile, Ian calmly instructed Aurora to plete the final step.

  “Hmm, Hmm.”

  Aurora followed his dires, p the finished potion into a fsk. As she beheld the clear, well-brewed Boil-Cure Potion, a rare smile flickered across her usually impassive face.

  Their first colborative potion was a plete success.

  It was a moment of triumph.

  “You’re incredible! Holy, I think we’re both future Potions Masters!” Ian provided further encement.

  Aurora’s precision with ingredients and careful brewing had been impeccable. But Ia his own guidance had pyed no small role in their success.

  Direg another wizard in potion-making— surely that was a talent of its own?

  “I wonder if we keep the potion.” Aurora, seemingly ined toward colleg, carefully pced their work oable.

  At that moment—

  Snape, fuming silently, stormed toward them. He could scarcely tolerate Ian Prince’s behavior, which he viewed as an affront to his own House’s dignity.

  How could the Prince family produce a mere firekeeper?

  “Professor, look at our wive us a grade!”

  Ian was certain that their potion was the best in css, but he failed to realize that his eager words were akin to dousing Snape’s fury in fuel.

  “Five points to Slytherin. One point from Ravencw.”

  Snape didn’t eborate; instead, he made a visible effort to suppress his temper before a curt expnation.

  “This potion is clearly made from Miss Grindelwald’s efforts. It is well-crafted. If not for your interference, I suspect the final product would have been eveer.”

  His voice was quiet, but the icy disapproval in his tone was unmistakable.

  “These points belong to both of us,” Ian protested, unwilling to accept the dedu. His skill progression could not be deceiving him— he had actively tributed!

  “Professor, I agree with Ian,” Aurora spoke up, her expression unshaken.

  Seeing one of his brightest Slytherin students siding with Ian, Snape’s forehead creased into deep furrows, his teeth grinding with barely tained frustration.

  But he could not sh out. At times, even he had to maintain a veneer of fairness.

  “However, for today’s lesson, I require two pleted potions.” Snape, ever resourceful, quickly devised a termeasure.

  “Ah?!”

  The startled excmation did not e from Ian or Aurora, but from the surrounding students, many of whom had yet to plete even one successful brew. Panic spread through the css.

  “Professor, you never mentiohat earlier— I took notes!”

  “Oh no, we only prepared ingredients for och!”

  “We’ve already proven we make it once— why must we brew it again?”

  “How did you even manage one? Ours is still green! Someoell me how to turn it yellow!”

  “I have yellow tea leaves— I add that?”

  …

  The erupted in chaos but Snape remained unfazed and merely sneered.

  “I may not have said it earlier, but I am saying it now… This is my requirement.”

  Ian couldn’t help but feel as if he’d entered someone even more shameless than himself.

  The css, including several Slytherins, was visibly distent, but no one dared challenge Sright. Ian, seeing no alternative, sighed in resignation.

  “Aurora, we’ve got a problem. Quickly, fetch more ingredients; we o start over.”

  Aurora nodded and rose to colleother set of supplies—

  Only for Snape’s hand to press firmly on her shoulder, f her bato her seat.

  “Miss Grindelwald has already pleted her assig. Now it’s your turn.”

  Snape fixed his gaze on Ian, his expression one of predatory satisfa.

  In all his years at Hogwarts, he had never entered su insufferable wizard! Curse the S Hat— why had it not pced this boy in Slytherin?

  “This is btant favoritism!”

  Ian grumbled but had no choice. Under Snape’s scrutinizing gre, he gathered another set of ingredients and prepared to start anew.

  “Snake fangs, dried les, pore quills…”

  Snape said nothing, merely watg him with his arms crossed.

  Grinding his teeth, Ian begaiculously processing the fangs.

  Aurora instinctively reached to adjust the fmes—

  Snape gred at her.

  Aurnored him.

  She adjusted the fire anyway.

  The result? She romptly lifted by the back of her robes a aside like an errant first-year.

  “Ah?”

  Her hands filed in protest.

  For a moment, she sidered reag for her wand— but she restrained herself.

  “Let him do it himself.”

  Snape was uned about the other struggling students. His sole focus was on Ian, for whom he stood guard like a watchful hawk.

  “Crack, Crack, Crack~”

  The snake fangs were ground into fine powder and added to the cauldron. Ian adjusted the fmes, took a breath, ahodically prepared the dried les.

  He mentally timed each step.

  With a precise flick of his wand, he added the ingredient.

  “This is just like making stew. It’s all about trolled heat and patience.”

  Ian, sensing the temosphere, chose to emphasize the importance of fire— a key lesson Snape had oressed.

  Thus—

  The irritated Potions Master remained silent.

  He gred at Ian, searg for any mistake to seize upo, despite his frustration, Ian’s brewing process was faultless. Snape had aire lecture prepared, but no opportunity to deliver it.

  “tinue.” Snape was not ready to admit defeat.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Why is our Head of House h over a Ravencw?”

  The other students exged bewildered looks. Slytherins, in particur, seemed fused by Snape’s diverted attention.

  Some were merely puzzled—

  Others eyed Ian with curiosity.

  With all eyes on him, Ia narrating his process.

  “Simmering is ohing, but redug a potion properly requires real skill.”

  He lifted the cauldron slightly, let the mixture settle, and then added the pore quills, stirring precisely five times clockwise.

  Aurora nodded in uanding.

  Some students, surprisingly, found his expnation clearer than Snape’s usual cryptic critiques.

  “Cease your i chatter.” Snape finally snapped.

  “I am finished, Professor.” Ian bottled the pleted potion. Its yellow-green hue shimmered in the light, a match to the textbook’s description.

  It was not fwless— but it was undeniably profit.

  Just as Snape prepared to speak—

  “I get it now! I uand!”

  “Me too!”

  “Wait— my mum might be a Potions Master! She’s brilliant at cooking!”

  …

  Snape faced the greatest challenge of his teag career at this moment.

  (End Of This Chapter.)

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