The dungeons are always colder than the rest of the castle; every wizard who steps down here instinctively pulls their robes a little tighter.
Tila's already burrowed deep into the little nest of blankets in Sean's pocket, refusing to poke her head out.
Bowtruckles almost never leave their trees. The last one who did was Helga Hufflepuff's own little guy, centuries ago.
So up till now, Sean still isn't sure if the environment he's given Tila is actually making her feel safe.
He decides that as soon as he gets back to the dorm, he's building her a proper tiny house. Keeping her in his pocket forever just isn't right.
The moment he opens the door, a gust of icy wind rushes down the darkening staircase.
There's no firelight in the dungeon. The cauldrons that usually gurgle and bubble have gone cold, just like Severus Snape standing silently against the wall.
"Professor Snape."
Sean's arrival brings a flicker of life to the place. He starts sorting ingredients with practiced ease.
Shriveled figs, daisy roots, caterpillars, wormwood, leeches, rat spleens, hemlock essence…
By the time he finishes the left-hand cupboard, he's gathered everything he needs for a Shrinking Solution.
Shrinking Solution is a potion that makes living things smaller or reverts them to a younger state. It's normally a bright, acidic green.
It's great for dealing with huge magical creatures that resist spells, or for moving livestock; shrink a whole herd of pigs and they'll fit in one wizard's pocket.
For Sean, it's going to help perfect the Bowtruckle transformation ritual. After all, a wizard who's only a few inches tall is a lot easier to transfigure than one who's over six feet.
Next, he grabs some ingredients for Regermination Potion, the stuff that can bring dead plants back to life by kick-starting new cell growth.
By borrowing the rituals used while brewing these potions, Sean, with his sharp intuition, can pick up a few extra insights he'll need for the Bowtruckle ceremony.
Potions and alchemy; they're connected by those same fundamental threads of magic.
The cauldron fire is pretty much the only light down here. Professor Snape hasn't lit any candles, and the windows only let in a faint sliver of moonlight.
He's already in a foul mood, and watching Sean fumble through his first Shrinking Solution just makes it worse.
"Idiot!"
The wizarding world's most notorious Potions Master… how did he end up with such a clumsy student?
For a long time after that incident, Snape simply couldn't accept it.
Even though the kid's talent is starting to show, it's still too slow. Way too slow.
Slow enough that Snape's terrified he won't live to see the day it finally clicks.
"Put that cauldron down… Sean Green, you'd better watch very closely!"
His robes billow as he sweeps over to the neighboring cauldron in two seconds flat, every move honed and graceful from years of practice. Sean doesn't dare blink; he drinks in every motion.
"Hmph. Next batch, you can use that half-decent stirring method of yours."
Professor Snape watches Sean copy him step by step until the Shrinking Solution is finished, then gives the tiniest nod.
"If your brain is bigger than a troll's, you'll perfect the improved ritual before you try it on anything living."
From boiling to calm, Sean's brewing technique finally hits apprentice-practice level.
The next step is guiding his mental focus, depending on the potion, to boost its quality.
That's exactly what he's been studying in the library lately.
He nails it on the first try and bumps his Shrinking Solution proficiency straight to Apprentice.
After that, he pulls out his notebook and adds "Shrinking Solution (not perfected yet)" to the list after "Scintillation Solution," "Swelling Solution," "Deflating Draught," "Cheerful Potion," and "Common Antidote."
Ever since he inherited that secret notebook from Master Borraji, Sean's been steadily filling in the ritual details.
Problem is, it's a ridiculously long process. A single ritual has countless variations, and the fastest way to find the right one is raw talent.
Sean can already feel himself hitting the current ceiling of his own gift.
Creating something new is rough, but refining? The possibilities are endless.
While he's frowning over that, his dungeon notebook flies into his hand in a smooth arc.
"With talent that rivals a troll's…"
Professor Snape sneers coldly, and the only sound left is the rustle of pages as Sean flips through it.
A minute later, one thought dominates Sean's mind: just how insane is Professor Snape's potion talent?
But he quickly shakes off the useless question and dives back into the Regermination Potion.
"Completely… useless! Watch properly!"
The dungeon echoes with another furious shout.
Cauldrons boil, then settle. It's the constant rhythm down here.
When Sean finally packs up, satisfied with what he's learned, Snape's glare is even darker.
"With how hopeless you are at potions, you'd better never breathe a word about me; no matter what!"
The words come out like ice sliding down Sean's spine. The dungeon feels colder, darker.
Snape's face is almost impossible to read in the shadows.
"I understand, Professor."
Sean answers quietly.
Snape lets out a heavy, dismissive snort.
Sean clears the workstation and heads for the door.
Just before he leaves, he stops.
"Professor… what counts as not hopeless?"
Snape freezes for a split second. A complicated look flashes across his face, instantly replaced by practiced disdain.
"When, aside from that decent willpower research of yours, you win the Golpalott Potion Prize."
He sets a bar that feels impossible.
The Golpalott Potion Prize?
Sean's read about it in Master Borraji's biography in History of Magic.
It's only awarded to the single most outstanding Potions Master of the decade.
With his current talent, Sean can't even see the edge of that standard.
At the dungeon door, he just nods calmly.
"I understand, Professor."
…
Outside the dungeon.
Sir Cadogan is hugging his fat little pony, clearly three sheets to the wind.
Violet's holding up the Fat Lady, who actually managed to drink the knight under the table; though she's not much steadier herself.
They're giggling about some old stories involving Professor Minerva McGonagall.
As Sean walks past, Sir Cadogan staggers away from the ladies, plants himself in front of the dungeon door, and starts muttering at top speed, words slurring together:
"Yes, Severus Snape. What else can you do, eh? The big cat gets to be out in the open… but you have to stay as far away as possible… you think it's protection; ha! Of course that's what you tell yourself…"
Snow keeps falling over Hogwarts.
Severus Snape doesn't need anyone to know what he's buried so deep.
ilham20