Chapter 44: The True Potion Master

Roger walked back to his seat with his quill, pausing from time to time to think. Given his expertise, the difficulty of this test paper was well above the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, commonly known as OWLs, taken at the end of the fifth year. Some of the questions might even surpass the level of N.E.W.T.s.

There were no introductory-level potion questions on the entire paper; it started straight from the intermediate level, incorporating advanced potion knowledge and open-ended development of novel experimental potions.

For instance: If an intermittent confusion draught suddenly turns deep green after the seventh stir, what could be the possible cause? How should it be adjusted?

If you need to brew a memory-enhancing potion, which three herbal ingredients would you choose, and what is your rationale?

...

Please analyze why the Mimosa pudica needs to be harvested during a thunderstorm.

Please briefly outline your vision for the future development of Potions.

...

Roger looked up at the podium, where Snape was brewing a potion as if no one else was in the room. He could clearly tell that the Blue Moonlight was brewed by Roger himself, and Snape was using this test to probe his baseline abilities.

Just look at this test paper; it was entirely composed of essay questions, designed to be as tricky as possible. Wasn't this deliberately making things difficult for him?

Of course, Roger could have simply handed in a blank paper, but Snape was practically a giant treasure chest. A Potions Master, non-verbal casting, self-invented spells... It made the boy's mouth water with envy.

He stayed until eight o'clock in the evening to finish the test. The memory-based knowledge questions were fine; he was certain he was mostly accurate. But whenever the questions involved specific practical procedures for potion-making, he could only attempt to answer based on his experience of brewing Blue Moonlight.

The final question was about the future vision of Potions. When Roger read it, he just wanted to ask what the point of it was. These were things for actual Potions Masters to ponder.

Nevertheless, Roger generously jotted down his own thoughts: Most magic-world tools are weighed down by history, remaining completely stagnant for a thousand years. Tentatively introducing research methods and instruments from Muggle medicine and science might just usher in a revolution for the field of Potions.

"Professor, I'm done." Roger handed in his test paper just as Snape reached the finishing stage of his potion.

"What are the uses of Fire-Dragon Vine seeds, Thunderbird feathers, and Unicorn horn dust?" Snape swirled the golden potion in his hand and picked up Roger's vial of Blue Moonlight.

"Fire-Dragon Vine seeds come from tropical volcanic craters and bear fruit once every century. They can be used to refine Essence of Fierce Flame, which is used in crafting Soul-Cleansing Potions."

"Thunderbird feathers come from thunderbirds inhabiting torrential storm zones, and they can stimulate mental power. The ashes of burned Thunderbird feathers can be used to make Spiritual Energy Potions."

"Unicorn horn dust can enhance cognitive faculties, and legend has it that potions utilizing it as an ingredient can unlock mysterious regions of the brain." Roger answered one by one, watching as Professor Snape unscrewed the cap of the Blue Moonlight and dripped the golden potion into it.

"Professor..." Roger felt a pang in his chest, feeling a bit terrified.

Mixing finished potions belonged to the realm of master-level techniques, usually applied only to potions one had brewed personally. If someone mixed another person's potion, it would almost certainly ruin the entire brew, or even trigger terrifying consequences.

Snape remained expressionless, entirely focused on the changes occurring within the vial. The original silvery-blue liquid absorbed several threads of gold, intertwining to form a swirling, flowing play of light.

Roger stared without blinking, seeming to have forgotten how to breathe. He had never witnessed such a stunning magical reaction; it looked like a universe being born right before his eyes.

"Th-This is..." Roger muttered, looking at Snape in disbelief.

"Mixing the Golden Elixir with Blue Moonlight eliminates the drowsiness-inducing side effect of the Blue Moonlight. You could call it the Serene Galaxy." Snape nodded in satisfaction and handed it back to Roger.

"What about the new side effect?" Roger pressed on.

"You'll carry a bit more static electricity, if you count that as one," Snape said nonchalantly, tossing the potion vial to Roger before turning to grade the test papers.

He felt a hint of surprise, looking up at Roger from time to time. Those answers contained many errors and omissions, but it was clear that Roger's foundational knowledge was remarkably solid, and his practical execution showed genuine independent thinking.

"You only know how to brew Blue Moonlight?" After finishing the test, Snape's confusion only intensified.

Seeing Roger nod, Snape didn't hesitate to deliver a sarcastic remark: "Using advanced potions for practice—your stupidity rivals that of a mountain troll."

"Head of House, you should know my background," Roger said helplessly. "Because of those wretched things in Azkaban, my magical growth practically stagnated entirely. Since I couldn't buy any in Diagon Alley, I had no choice but to make them myself. Without it, I wouldn't even be able to keep up with first-year coursework."

"Wretched things?" Snape paused. "An interesting choice of words. I imagine that aside from you, no one else in the entire magical world would describe Dementors that way."

"Take this and read it." Snape retrieved a thick notebook from his bookcase, filled with potion recipes and brewing insights he had accumulated over the years.

"Follow the order in the notebook and submit a potion every three days," Snape demanded without a shred of politeness. As he had said, he never begrudged sharing his knowledge with true genius.

"With such a heavy scent of Moonlight Dew, I hardly think you're lacking the money to buy materials." Snape rolled up the parchment and tucked it into a drawer.

"Huh?" Roger raised his arm and sniffed himself. "Head of House, doesn't Moonlight Dew dissipate three breaths after the cap is opened?"

"Use your brain. Where do you suppose it goes when it dissipates?" Snape sneered.

"It decomposes into the air or settles onto other objects." Roger nodded, though he remained curious as to how Snape could smell it. "But Head of House, I didn't smell anything!"

Without offering an explanation, Snape waved a hand to dismiss Roger. He re-read the answer to the final question in his mind, and he had to admit, it was quite interesting.

"A revolution?" Snape muttered under his breath, though he wasn't particularly fond of the word.

"One faction cozying up to the Muggle world, while another half-blood faction emulates the pure-bloods. A revolution? Truly, it is thoroughly Slytherin."

The spirit of Slytherin had never been about some pure-blood ideology, but rather about glory and power. For the sake of their ultimate goals, they were willing to pay any price, up to and including their own lives.

"Head of House!" Roger suddenly remembered something and poked his head back through the door. "Is there anywhere in the school where I can brew potions?"

What Roger was referring to was the Room of Requirement. He knew it was opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, but Hogwarts was simply too vast to locate it immediately on the fly.

"Opposite the tapestry on the eighth floor of the main keep, walk past it three times..." Snape thought for a moment and provided the location of the Room of Requirement.

Listening to the fading footsteps outside the door, he fell into deep contemplation. Roger had displayed extraordinary talent in both potions and spellcasting, bearing a striking resemblance to himself at that age.

Yet what reminded Snape even more of the past was the subtle relationship between Roger and the Gryffindor students...

Snape shook his head; that was already water under the bridge. He would not mistakenly believe his own life was about to replay just because of Roger's talent.

The Great Hall was entirely empty, and looking at the clean, orderly long tables, Roger realized he had no choice but to pay another visit to the kitchens. The side effects of the dragon blood were still lingering, after all.