Faced with Snape's cold mockery, Wayen secretly raised a middle finger. "One day, I will have you under my thumb."
With a wave of his broad sleeves, Snape summoned a blackboard filled with dense potion-making processes. "You can take the materials yourself, but only enough for one potion."
"You've got two hours to prepare a complete potion. If you can't finish…" Snape smirked, leaving the sentence unfinished as he returned to his seat to read a magazine.
Wayen glanced at the content on the blackboard and frowned. The potion of hatred was one that revealed the worst traits of its user, completely opposed to love potions. He had seen this potion in advanced potion-making classes, and according to the classification, it was something that should be taught in sixth or seventh year.
The brewing process was exceedingly complex; not only did it require precise handling of materials, but it also needed wand stirring. Furthermore, one had to release a proper amount of magical energy while stirring—whatever that "proper amount" meant!
Was Snape deliberately trying to dishearten him with a difficult potion? Stifling the impulse to duel Snape with spells, Wayen began gathering materials.
He gathered blood of fire lizards, griffin powder, dragon liver, and dried nettles. Following Snape's instructions step by step, Wayen worked meticulously on the materials. To avoid any mistakes, he even turned his wand into a ruler, measuring everything to the millimeter.
This earned him a glance of approval from Snape. In his mind, potion-making was a discipline that demanded rigor along with creativity; it was filled with charm.
The foundation of creativity lay in mastering what those more capable than you had to teach before you could develop your own ideas. Wayen might not get along with Snape, but he recognized what was most beneficial for him, and it was certainly a hundred times better than Potter.
Isn't this a true quality that every Slytherin should possess? To obey the strong, thirst for power, and strive to become stronger. He recalled the pure-blood wizards from his house who were overly self-important but held little real skill, and he felt a pang of disdain.
"The liquid should appear pale blue; you can only add the dragon liver after the bubbles have fully dissipated."
At this reminder, Wayen immediately paused, waiting for the last bubble to vanish before decisively adding the dragon liver to fry. No, that wasn't right; it was to brew.
As the two hours for brewing the potion of hatred drew to a close, with Snape's intermittent reminders and corrections, the prior steps had all gone smoothly. Now it was time to blend in the right amount of magical energy while stirring.
This step was the most challenging—how much magic to add and how fast to stir were entirely based on experience. Wayen had to carefully control this, adjusting his speed just right, balancing the energy flowing through him.
Bang!
A cloud of red smoke erupted, quickly spreading throughout the entire office. Snape frowned as he waved his wand.
"Clean Sweep!"