Snape glanced at Dumbledore, gave a small nod, and said nothing more. He then turned toward the students and spoke in his usual calm but commanding tone:
"Sean. The rest of Slytherin—come with me."
Without waiting for a response, Snape turned on his heel, his ever-flowing black robes trailing behind him. Within seconds, he vanished around the far corner of the corridor.
Sean watched him go, then silently followed, saying nothing.
The other Slytherins followed soon after—including Miles, the very person responsible for the attack, who kept his expression carefully blank as he walked with the group toward the common room.
With the Slytherins gone, the other heads of house began organizing their own students. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout each called for their houses to return to their common rooms, ushering them away under the tense quiet that had settled over the castle.
In just a few minutes, the corridor was nearly empty. Only Dumbledore and a few professors remained, carefully examining the scene and beginning to clean up the aftermath of the second basilisk attack.
Back in the dungeons of Hogwarts, the Slytherin students returned to their common room one after another. Sean walked along with them, intending to head straight to bed—he was genuinely tired after brewing potions for so long.
But just as he was about to enter, Snape, who stood at the entrance to the dungeon corridor, suddenly said in his low, cool voice:
"Sean, come to my office."
The moment those words fell, even the other Slytherins couldn't help but glance at Sean with a mix of sympathy and subtle fear. In Slytherin House, Snape was both respected and dreaded—by students and ghosts alike.
Sean followed silently.
Inside the dimly lit office, with its ever-present scent of dried herbs and potion residue, Sean looked up at Snape and asked calmly,"Professor, do you want to ask about what happened earlier?"
Snape glanced at him, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight sneer."You're very clever, Sean. But no—I have no interest in that. A foolish girl wandering about at night and getting petrified doesn't concern me. What I do want to know is—why were you wandering the halls at that time?"He narrowed his eyes."Don't tell me it was because of that idiotic Savior whose brain was stepped on by a troll again?"
Sean could feel the tension but answered smoothly,"Professor, you've misunderstood. I didn't know Harry was there when I got to the scene."
Snape's expression remained unreadable."You're quite friendly with that arrogant boy—but your personal relations are your concern, not mine."Then, sharply:"If you weren't following Potter, what were you doing out so late?"
"Professor, as you know, I've been working with Andy lately…"
Snape cut in, voice low."So you were brewing potions until then?"
"Yes, Professor."
Upon hearing this, Snape's expression immediately softened—though, of course, Snape's version of "warm" could still make a first-year cry from across the room.But Sean, having been under Snape's tutelage long enough, could tell: his Head of House was clearly in a better mood now.
"Where is the potion you brewed?"
Sean hesitated for a brief second. But when he caught the sharp glint of disapproval in Snape's eyes, he quickly reached into his robe and pulled out a small bag—one enchanted with a Traceless Extension Charm—and handed it over.
Snape took the bag and examined it with practiced familiarity. He instantly recognized the enchantment. Of course, the Ministry of Magic forbade students from casually using magic items enchanted with space-extension spells—but to Snape, such rules were meaningless trivia.
He cared only about what was inside.
Opening the bag, he reached in and began inspecting the contents, pulling out vial after vial of potion. After several minutes of silent evaluation, he looked up at Sean.
"You made all of these this afternoon and evening?"
Sean nodded without hesitation."Yes, Professor."
Snape's eyebrows lifted slightly—just enough to betray a flicker of surprise.
He had long recognized Sean's strong talent in potions, but he hadn't fully realized how far the boy had come. Though most of the potions were standard low- to mid-level brews—especially several low-grade ones that made up over half the lot—they all required precision, timing, and strict adherence to brewing methods.Even for Snape himself, brewing this many potions in one afternoon and evening would be… demanding.
And yet Sean had managed it—with consistency.
Snape was silent for a long moment, his sharp gaze lingering on the potions in the bag.
Sean Bulstrode had already reached this level.
Snape hadn't anticipated just how far Sean had advanced—not only in skill, but physically.
Ever since Sean had acquired the Troll Strength and Troll Spiked Hide talents, his physical condition had undergone a remarkable transformation. His stamina and endurance had improved dramatically. Where an ordinary wizard might stay focused at a cauldron for an hour before exhaustion dulled their senses, Sean could maintain full concentration for five or six hours without flagging. After all, humans and trolls were vastly different in constitution—and Sean now carried the best of both.
Snape pulled out two potions at random and began inspecting them closely. As he studied the liquid in the vials, the warmth that had softened his face gradually disappeared, replaced by a furrowed brow.
He turned to Sean, his voice cold and cutting:
"Did you intentionally reduce the quality of these potions?"
…So much for hiding it.
Sean gave a small, resigned sigh and nodded."Yes, Professor. I did. I deliberately brewed them just above the passing standard—not at their best quality. This way, I saved time and energy. The potions are still stronger than what's sold at most shops, and I wasn't trying to cheat any of our customers..."
But before Sean could finish, Snape waved a hand dismissively.
"It doesn't matter."His tone was sharp, but not angry."I'm not concerned with what quality others are foolish enough to buy. What matters is this—"He locked eyes with Sean."You, Sean Bulstrode, were able to deliberately regulate potion quality across an entire batch. That means you've fully mastered the brewing process for each of them. That means you have the skill to produce them at the highest possible quality—and the discipline to hold back when it suits you. That is what I care about."
Sean stared at his Head of House, momentarily stunned.
Not by the words—but by the fact that Snape had just said so many of them in one breath.He blinked.
Not even Dumbledore gets him talking that much…So, logically speaking…Did I just beat Dumbledore?
"Sean, have you started working on your paper?"
Snape's voice broke the brief silence in the office.
Sean immediately pulled his focus back and responded seriously,"Yes, Professor. I've already started."
Snape narrowed his eyes slightly."What subject?"
"I'm working on a reformulation of the Spirit Recovery Potion—To extend its duration of effect and increase its brewing complexity."
Snape's expression shifted minutely.He repeated the words under his breath, "Spirit Recovery Potion…"
It was a well-known, mid-tier potion—basic enough that any witch or wizard who made it through a proper alchemy curriculum could brew it, though not necessarily with any consistency or quality. Its main use was simple: to restore mental energy and alertness for a time, making it a popular aid for long study sessions, work, or spell practice.
Snape understood immediately why Sean had chosen it.
If Sean truly managed to improve the formula—to extend the potion's effects while also increasing its brewing difficulty—then the implications were significant. A more stable, longer-lasting variant of the Spirit Recovery Potion would have a massive commercial and academic impact.
And the paper? Without question, it would be published in The Golden Crucible, the most prestigious potions journal in Europe.
If Sean could pull it off.
Of course, that was the real challenge.
And Snape knew that.
He gave Sean a longer, appraising look, then said quietly,"Ambitious. And potentially useful. Keep working."