Ravenclaw isn't entirely useless after all…
Snape allowed himself a rare, private smirk.
He'd actually considered, more than once, how he'd respond if Wyzett started asking about the Philosopher's Stone. But as they made their way to his office, Wyzett simply trailed behind in silence, never once prying.
It was, frankly, the best outcome. No need to waste his energy untangling Dumbledore's messes for a precocious first-year.
In fact, he found himself quietly grateful he'd chosen to mentor Wyzett—far preferable to serving as Harry's glorified babysitter.
Heh… Me, trying to murder Harry Potter?
"Ten points from Gryffindor."
"Er…" Wyzett glanced up, sneaking a look at Snape's face—utterly blank, not a flicker of emotion.
Another deduction for no reason at all. He was almost used to it by now.
He could even keep a straight face, suppressing the urge to laugh. He probably looked about as deadpan as Snape himself.
He followed Snape into the office. In the corner, atop a desk, sat a well-worn notebook and a gleaming new set of potion-making tools.
Wyzett squinted, finally recognizing the insignia—his own Christmas present.
Trust Luna—no potioneer could resist a brand-new set of equipment.
Beside the tools, a toad sat in a cage. It was unusually still, watching the two of them enter with an almost thoughtful curiosity.
For some reason, Wyzett felt a strange familiarity with the toad—not the kind that comes from meeting before, but something more inexplicable. He couldn't quite put it into words. If Luna were here, she'd understand instantly—that was just how they were.
Snape strode to the desk, pulled out his chair, and sat, a flick of his wand summoning a neat pile of potion ingredients.
Wyzett recognized them at once—components for the Draught of Peace.
Lowering his wand, Snape crossed his arms. "Begin. I want to see you brew a Draught of Peace."
Wyzett nodded, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work, lighting the cauldron with practiced ease.
Grinding moonstone into fine powder… blending moondew nectar with wormwood infusion… pouring dew into the cauldron… a deft wave of his wand…
He'd brewed so many batches of Draught of Peace over the holidays, he'd lost count. Every step was second nature by now.
His movements were fluid, unbroken—no hesitation, no wasted motion.
Snape could see it: in terms of brewing technique, Wyzett was nearly flawless. True, it was the product of countless hours and ingredients, but he never forgot the boy's age and year…
First year at Hogwarts. Eleven years old.
Snape rubbed his brow, waiting for the final potion.
"Professor Snape, it's finished." Wyzett announced calmly, presenting a vial of Draught of Peace swirling with silver mist.
"Still the same…" Snape muttered, frowning. "Have you ever tested the potion yourself?"
"I have," Wyzett nodded. "It's nowhere near as effective as yours, Professor, but when I drink it, I do feel relaxed—sleepy, even."
"So… you tested it on yourself from the start?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "Why not use an owl? Don't you have one?"
"I couldn't bear to," Wyzett admitted, a little sheepishly. "Sol works hard enough delivering letters. He's my friend." He coughed softly. "So I just drank it myself."
There was another reason, of course—he'd examined the potion with his Oculus Magicae first, and only tried it after confirming it was safe.
Snape didn't comment further. He got up, opened a side door, and returned with a wriggling toad.
Toads had always been a potioneer's best companion—their skin absorbed liquids, making them ideal for potion testing.
"Here's how it works." Snape tapped the toad with his wand. Instantly, it froze, motionless. "Feed the potion to the toad. If it's a proper Draught of Peace…"
He demonstrated, pouring a measure of the potion onto the toad's back.
"Once the toad absorbs the Draught of Peace, it should calm down and drift into sleep. The better the potion, the faster it dozes off."
Wyzett frowned. His potion didn't make the toad sleepy at all—in fact, the creature seemed to grow more and more agitated.
"Agitated" wasn't quite right.
After absorbing the potion, the toad's behavior turned downright bizarre.
It grew hyperactive, leaping forward only to twitch violently in midair before crashing down, then rolling frantically across the desk.
Just as it was about to topple the potion equipment, Snape flicked his wand, conjuring a shimmering barrier in front of the tools.
The toad carried on for over ten minutes before letting out a final "croak!" and collapsing, utterly spent.
Wyzett swallowed hard. "Professor Snape, why did it react like that?"
"Perhaps it's the influence of the Obscurus," Snape said coolly, tossing the toad back through the door. "Let's try another potion."
He waved his wand again, and a fresh set of ingredients floated to the desk.
Scurvy-grass, lovage, sneezewort, castor oil, frog brains…
A Confusing Concoction.
Wyzett recognized the potion, though he'd never brewed it before. Normally, he'd learn it in third year.
Snape spoke: "You know what this is for, I presume?"
"Confusing Concoction," Wyzett replied. "A potion that muddles the mind—makes people reckless and impulsive… The stronger the brew, the worse the effect. It can drive someone to outright madness, impossible to recover their senses."
Snape nodded. "I'll instruct, you follow. Begin."
"Yes, Professor." Wyzett returned to the cauldron.
"First, add dew and heat gently. Prepare the scurvy-grass—crush it in a mortar…"
"Pour castor oil into a beaker, heat gently. Once it bubbles, add the frog brains. While that's heating, slice the sneezewort into fine strips…"
Snape's pace was brisk, but with the help of his Oculus Magicae, Wyzett managed to keep up.
"When you see fish-eye bubbles on the cauldron's inner wall, add the lovage. Keep on low heat for ten minutes. Fish out the frog brains, mash them with fresh castor oil in a new mortar…"
"Add the crushed scurvy-grass, turn up to medium heat, simmer until the potion turns a murky color and gives off a dull gray vapor. Then remove from heat and let cool…"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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