Obsidian screens divided the entire space into individual stone chambers, each one carved with understated serpentine patterns. The effect was precise, ruthless , a honeycomb built for discipline rather than warmth.
Above each chamber hung a single magical lamp, its light a ghostly green. The beam fell with surgical accuracy onto the central worktable, illuminating only the operating surface. Everything beyond that circle stayed in deep, deliberate shadow. Apparently, Snape believed excess light would disturb a potion's coagulation.
The tables themselves were no longer scarred wooden desks. Each one had been polished from a solid block of obsidian, the surface smooth as a mirror and cold enough to ache. Douglas touched one with his fingertip. A chill seeped straight through his skin, and beneath it he could feel something else , the steady, even pulse of magical current flowing through the stone. Faint silver patterns drifted below the surface.
Temperature-sensing runes.
The air was different too. Gone was the usual pungent chaos of herbs. In its place: a thin, clean scent of disinfectant potion, undercut by the crisp bitterness of dragon's blood and wormwood. Overhead, enormous copper ventilation hoods hung from the ceiling, their surfaces etched with complex alchemical symbols. They worked without a sound, drawing away any impurity that might contaminate an experiment.
Precise. Cold. Orderly.
And also, in its own way, stunning , stifling Gothic dark aesthetics rendered in obsidian and green light.
"Welcome to the N.E.W.T.-level Potions laboratory."
Snape's voice came from behind Douglas, laden with undisguised pride.
"A place truly born for precision and discipline."
He moved to Douglas's side, his gaze sweeping slowly over the obsidian tables. His eyes held something Douglas recognized: an artist's private infatuation with his own most perfect work.
"I must admit, Holmes." A pause. "Even those crude Muggle factories are not entirely without merit in certain concepts." Another pause, heavier than the first. "Isolation. Standardization."
Douglas understood instantly.
Safety protocols, partitioned workstations, precise temperature control, ventilation systems , every suggestion he'd ever made had come from his observations of Muggle laboratories. And Snape had taken every single one of them. Then he'd run them through his own dark, obsessive sensibility and produced... this.
Not a classroom. An awe-inspiring medieval torture laboratory where every detail screamed the same message:
Here, mistakes are unforgivable.
Douglas looked around. In a stone chamber near the corner, Fred and George were wedged together, wearing brand-new form-fitting protective suits , dark green, a silver Slytherin serpent embroidered on the chest. Far superior to Muggle factory whites, objectively speaking. On two Gryffindors, the suits produced expressions of profound personal suffering.
The moment the twins spotted Douglas, their eyes lit up with a silent, desperate plea.
One cold glance from Snape killed it instantly. They shrank back and returned their attention to the moonstone they were polishing, portraits of diligence.
"Students."
Snape stepped onto the podium. His voice wasn't loud, but some enchantment carried it cleanly into every separate chamber.
"Today we have a special observer."
Every student looked up.
"Professor Holmes." Snape's tone was even, each word precisely placed. "Though he has somehow managed to acquire the title of Potions Master." A breath. "Unfortunately." He drew the word out, each syllable dripping like something toxic. "He has never had the honor of studying Advanced Potion-Making."
Suppressed snickers rippled between the stone chambers , mostly from the Slytherin side. Fred and George were turning visibly red from the effort of not laughing. This was not the moment to stand up for the professor. Everyone in the room understood that.
"So." Snape let the silence stretch. His gaze moved across Douglas's face like a blade. "Please allow him to observe quietly from the back. Try not to trouble a colleague" — he weighted the word carefully, like a punchline — "who knows nothing of advanced potions, with your... hmm... overly basic questions."
He said colleague again. As if it were the funniest thing he'd said all year.
Douglas's expression didn't move.
Same old routine, he thought. All that buildup for one opening line?
He gave Snape a polite smile, found himself a seat in the back row , shadows, best sightline in the room , and then, while Snape had already turned away, gave the Weasley twins a discreet thumbs-up.
Complimenting their suits' tailoring, obviously.
The twins responded with a look of layered complexity that meant: Professor, you absolute menace.
Snape snorted and turned to face the class.
"Today we will be brewing a modified Invigoration Draught." His voice dropped back into cold professionalism. "A potion capable of dramatically accelerating both physical stamina and magical recovery within a short window of time. Slytherin students will be familiar with it."
He said it meaningfully.
Douglas remembered. During the confrontation not long ago, the Slytherin students had used exactly this.
"The difficulty lies in the precise purification of salamander blood," Snape continued, "and the instantaneous temperature management required when introducing powdered bicorn horn. Salamander blood must be separated three times with a silver knife, in an environment of negative seven degrees Celsius. The margin of error cannot exceed 0.1 grams."
He walked to a student's table. The obsidian surface glowed faint blue, displaying its current temperature.
"Bole. Your surface temperature is 0.5 degrees too high." Snape's voice was ice. "If you'd like to convert expensive salamander blood into a puddle of waste water, please continue."
The Slytherin student flinched hard and immediately tapped the runes beneath the table with his wand.
"As for the powdered bicorn horn." Snape moved on without pause. "The grinding must be exactly forty-nine rotations, clockwise. One more or one fewer will destroy its magical structure entirely." He glanced toward Douglas, a cold smile at the corner of his mouth. "This is not cooking soup in a kitchen, Professor Holmes. Your laughable freestyle culinary instincts have no place here. What is needed here is precision."
Douglas leaned back in his chair and continued to observe with quiet interest.
The cauldrons, he noticed, had also been upgraded. No more standard large pots , every student had a custom serpentine cauldron, selected for the specific properties of the potion being brewed, complex temperature-control runes carved into the base.
And Snape had gone further. On the side of the podium stood a complex apparatus of brass and black iron, its silhouette somewhere between an alchemical instrument and a medieval device for extracting confessions. Snape called it the Potion Synthesizer.
"For handling certain high-risk materials, human effort has its limits." Snape's tone was magnanimous, the tone of a man dispensing a great concession. He poured a vial of liquid trailing purple smoke into the machine. "But Muggle machinery is too crude. A true potioneer uses magic to command the tool rather than be commanded by it."
He dipped a specialized quill into silver ink and wrote a rapid string of runic commands across a piece of parchment. The parchment was fed into a slot on the side of the synthesizer. The machine began to operate in complete silence. Inside, the liquid turned, separated, and merged along complex trajectories, without a single trace of magical leakage.
Douglas narrowed his eyes.
Was this triggered by Sirius?
The machine was something else , alchemy, ancient runes, and precision mechanical engineering fused into a single instrument. More efficient than a Muggle centrifuge. And considerably more dangerous.
---
P.S. Daily question — answer next chapter:
Which of the following statements about the "Three Elements of Potion Preparation" (ingredient purity, heat control, stirring rhythm) isincorrect?
A. Insufficient ingredient purity leads to diminished potion effects (e.g., using moldy mandrake root in a Restorative Draught)
B. The core of heat control is matching the ingredient's magical active temperature (e.g., Wolfsbane Potion must be maintained at 68°C ± 2°C)
C. Stirring rhythm affects only the potion's color and has no bearing on its efficacy or stability
D. All three elements must work in concert , imbalance in any one triggers a chain reaction (e.g., excessive heat destroys the ingredient's active properties)
➤ Next: The Mysterious Knife Technique from the East: Paoding Jieniu!
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