In his mind, Potions should always be a subject that blended rigor with creativity—a discipline full of allure.
And the prerequisite to creativity was mastering the knowledge taught by those more capable than oneself. Only then could one begin forming independent ideas.
Wayne might not always get along with him, but he clearly understood what benefited him most—something that made him a hundred times better than Potter.
Wasn't this precisely the quality a true Slytherin ought to possess?
Obedience to the strong, thirst for power, and a desire to become stronger.
Thinking of the pure-blooded wizards from his own house—those who held themselves in high regard but lacked real ability—Snape felt a sting in his liver.
"The liquid should turn pale blue, and only after all bubbles vanish can you add the dragon liver."
At this reminder, Wayne's hand paused mid-air. He waited until the last bubble popped, then decisively added the dragon liver and began the stir-fry.
No, not stir-fry—simmer.
After two long hours, the brewing of the Hate Potion was entering its final stage.
With Snape occasionally offering guidance and corrections, there had been no mistakes in the prior steps. Now only the final stage remained:
Stirring with the correct amount of magical energy.
This fusion of magic with the properties of the ingredients would complete the potion.
But this was also the most difficult part.
How much magic to infuse, how fast to stir with the wand—it all came down to experience.
Wayne could only proceed with extreme caution. His stirring was neither too fast nor too slow, relying solely on his intuition.
Bang!
A puff of red smoke burst out and spread rapidly, filling the entire office.
Snape frowned and waved his wand.
"Ventus!"
A breeze dispersed the smoke. Wayne stopped his movement as well.
The Hate Potion now glowed with a blood-like dark red hue—it didn't look like anything pleasant.
Snape stepped forward to inspect it, even probing the potion with his wand, before complaining:
"Ruined at the last step!"
"You had everything right up until now—why did you infuse so much magic at the end?"
"It's barely passable."
To Snape, a potion that wasn't perfect had no right to exist. With a sharp flick of his wand, he disposed of the potion in the cauldron like it was garbage.
Wayne spread his hands. "Professor, there's really nothing I can do. What you call 'a suitable amount of magic' might be a small amount for me."
"If I brewed it again, I'm sure I'd do better."
Then, with a dissatisfied shake of his head, he added, "Sigh, having too much magical power isn't always a good thing, huh?"
Hearing such a blatant humblebrag, Snape was so angry his chest began to heave. Through clenched teeth, he spat out two words:
"Class dismissed!"
---
Kicked out of the office, Wayne strolled down the empty corridor...
He didn't plan to return to the common room just yet. Instead, he headed toward the second-floor library.
Snape had just mentioned a few book titles, along with the potion he'd need to brew in the next class.
Wayne remembered that two of those books were in the library—and placed in the Restricted Section, no less.
Old Dumbledore really was something else.
Books that could be bought in shops, and yet he classified them as "restricted."
As he reached the entrance of the library, Wayne suddenly froze.
There was someone inside?
He had gone night-walking so many times and run into all sorts of young wizards in odd places:
Some sneaking off to the kitchens, others playing with the knight armor statues on the fifth floor, some sneaking off to the towers for romantic liaisons...
There was even someone who played Quidditch in the middle of the night.
But this was the first time he had ever run into a night-roaming student in the library.
Casting a Silencing Charm on the door, Wayne pushed it open and stepped inside.
He was curious to see which house had produced such an eager student.
"Fred? George?"
When he saw the two sneaky figures lurking in the Restricted Section, Wayne blurted out in surprise.
Startled by someone calling their names, the twins jumped up in fright.
Just as they were about to run, they recognized the voice and hesitated. Fred asked cautiously:
"Wayne?"
"It's me." Wayne lifted the Disillusionment Charm, appearing as if he had just walked straight out of the bookshelf.
George clutched his chest. "Next time, could you remove the Disillusionment Charm before speaking? My heart nearly leapt out of my chest."
As he finished the sentence, he suddenly realized something and looked at the boy in front of him in shock.
"Wait—wait a second. You've mastered the Disillusionment Charm?!"
Wayne tilted his head. "Is it that hard?"
The twins fell silent.
Forget it. Wayne would never understand their pain.
This kind of stealth spell was something the twins had obviously tried before. Back in second year, they had spent a full two months attempting to master the Disillusionment Charm—eventually giving up because it was just too difficult.
"What are you two doing wandering around the library at night?" Wayne crossed his arms, puzzled.
"It's because you said those spellbooks were all in the Restricted Section," Fred sighed, then pulled out a bulging money pouch from his robe pocket and handed it to Wayne. "But you came at just the right time."
"This is the profit from selling the enchanted quills—three hundred Galleons in total. We took our thirty Galleons, and this pouch has the remaining 270."
"Hurry up and take it. We don't even dare keep that much money in our dorm; we're terrified something might go wrong."
"You sold them that fast?" Wayne took the bag in surprise. "It's only been two days—did you really sell 150 quills already?"
A smug grin spread across George's face. "We are the Weasley twins. Leave this kind of thing to us—it's a piece of cake."
Fred had a mischievous smile as well. "Even Percy fell for it. We scammed an entire term's allowance out of him—he bought two of the enchanted copying quills."
"Percy has that much allowance?"
"He's the model student, top of his year. Mum gives him generous bonuses and extra pocket money too."
"But I'd say he's nearly out now. His face turned darker than a mountain troll when he paid."
The two of them kept tossing comments back and forth, making Wayne laugh.
These two really were natural-born businessmen—even their own brother wasn't safe from their schemes.
After telling them he'd make more quills available tomorrow and pointing out a few helpful books, Wayne headed off to search for his own targets.
By 1 a.m., the twins were beginning to wear out. After bidding Wayne goodnight, they left the library.
An hour later, Wayne also left.
He had used the enchanted copying quill to transcribe several books onto parchment and could now take his time reviewing the material.
Unfortunately, all the books here were enchanted—Duplication Charms wouldn't work on them.
Otherwise, one spell could've done the job in an instant.
Still, that wasn't entirely a bad thing for Wayne.
Precisely because the books couldn't be copied magically, his enchanted quills had a solid market.
Take Percy, for example—buying a single book could cost several Galleons, but a single quill could transcribe the contents of over a dozen books. That was the real reason Percy gritted his teeth and bought two.
Back in the dormitory, both of his roommates were fast asleep, completely undisturbed. As usual, Wayne cast a Muffliato Charm to block out Toby's snoring, then washed up and lay down on his bed.
His points had risen above 2,000 again—only three or four days had passed since his last card draw.
Wayne didn't plan to save them up this time. With a focused thought, he launched into a ten-card pull.
The first ten-draw yielded only one purple card, but it was a good one—a Purple Alchemy Experience Book.
After using it, a flurry of alchemical experiments played out in his mind, as if he had personally conducted every one of them.
It took a full ten minutes for the images to stop, gradually transforming into memories etched into his brain.
Some of the problems that had long puzzled him were now effortlessly solved.
Wayne was feeling a bit thrilled—seemed like his luck tonight wasn't half bad.
The second ten-draw proved his hunch right—this time, he got two purple cards.
The first was an advanced version of the "Finite Incantatem" spell, a powerful general counter-spell.
The second was a skill… from another world entirely.
~~----------------------
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