Professor Snape moved slowly around the Potions classroom, his black robes billowing slightly as he inspected each cauldron.
When he reached Kevin's workstation, he stopped, eyes narrowing.
Kevin was carefully following the instructions from the textbook, but his technique was unorthodox. The book's vague descriptions of heat control and timing left much to interpretation, so Kevin was experimenting through trial and error.
"Ridiculous method. Foolish idea," Snape muttered with a sneer.
He had expected Kevin to show unusual promise, but now he appeared merely… ordinary—not untalented, but hardly exceptional.
Kevin, however, didn't even notice Snape's presence. His focus was entirely on the potion before him.
This was practice, and practice meant building experience. And since Snape hadn't said there was a limit to attempts, Kevin was determined to brew as many batches as necessary.
Before long, Kevin's potion was the first to finish. Snape approached, lifted the vial, and sniffed it.
All eyes turned toward them. The class waited to see whether the boy who dared to challenge Snape could produce something remarkable. Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged anxious glances.
"Thirty points," Snape said at last, his tone dripping with disdain. "Slightly better than a troll's droppings."
Kevin kept his voice steady. "Could you give me some pointers, Professor?"
Snape's eyes glittered. "He doesn't even know where he went wrong. Timing, Mr. Kevin! The timing of adding ingredients! Do you expect me to stand at your side with a pocket watch? And your choice of Rejuvenating Herb—even a mouse would find that dosage useless!"
"…Thank you, Professor," Kevin replied simply.
He took out his pocket watch, labelled the first batch 30 points, and began a second attempt. This time, he kept precise track of the seconds, adding ingredients exactly as the book instructed.
Around the room, other students were finishing their own brews, but none scored higher than Kevin's first thirty points. Hermione's team came closest with twenty.
For his second attempt, Kevin thought back to Snape's earlier demonstration:
The way he folded the herb, twisted it, and squeezed the juice directly into the cauldron, the stem snapping before he crumbled it in. Kevin mimicked the technique exactly.
Snape watched silently, arms folded, his fingers tapping an unconscious rhythm.
When Kevin's second potion was complete, Snape tested it.
"…Fifty-nine points," he said after a pause.
Gasps rippled through the class. His score had nearly doubled.
"Thanks to your advice, Professor," Kevin said, hands on hips. "May I ask where I lost the final point?"
"You seem quite proud, Mr. Kevin. It's just a potion anyone could brew with practice. Even a properly trained troll might manage better."
"I don't believe that," Kevin replied evenly.
Snape's lips curled. "If you cannot brew an excellent healing potion today, you will not leave this room. I have no objection to staying here all night."
"I'm happy to do that too, Professor," Kevin said, smiling genuinely.
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched. "The rest of you—dismissed. Mr. Kevin will remain until his potion meets my standard."
Hermione approached. "You don't need to challenge him like this. He's always harsh."
Harry and Ron joined her, worry etched on their faces.
"I'm fine," Kevin assured them. "I find this interesting. I'm not afraid of detention."
Once they were gone, Kevin didn't start brewing again immediately. Instead, he reviewed his notes and Snape's technique, wishing the professor would demonstrate once more.
His eyes wandered until they landed on a test tube on Snape's desk. The sunlight caught it, making the golden liquid gleam like starlight—the professor's own top-grade healing potion.
Without hesitation, Kevin retrieved it. He poured small samples of his two earlier batches for comparison and sniffed each. Snape's smelled faintly fragrant—perhaps intentionally altered.
Determined to test it, Kevin picked up the small silver knife used for slicing ingredients and made a clean cut across his forearm. Blood welled instantly.
Hidden in the shadows under a Disillusionment Charm, Snape's eyes widened.
Kevin first drank from his fifty-nine-point potion. The bleeding stopped quickly, and the wound began to knit together with an itchy sensation. It worked well—but not perfectly.
Next, Kevin made a fresh cut and tried Snape's potion. Warmth spread through his arm. The wound closed almost instantly, the pain vanished, and the healing felt complete.
Taking notes, Kevin realised this potion had effects beyond the textbook's description—pain relief, warmth, perhaps even blood replenishment. "Merlin's beard… this old bat is a genius," he muttered.
Snape's forehead vein pulsed.
Kevin began deducing possible painkillers and restorative herbs Snape might have used.
The professor's workspace was spotless, revealing nothing, so Kevin turned to trial and error, brewing again and again, his memory replaying every detail of Snape's earlier motions.
Hours later, he was deep in his work when the door creaked open. Hermione, Harry, and Ron slipped inside, smuggling bread and fruit.
"Eat something before Snape catches you," Hermione whispered.
But Kevin didn't respond—he was entirely absorbed, hands moving with practiced ease.
Moments later, he whooped triumphantly. "I did it!"
Without hesitation, he cut his arm again. Hermione gasped, noticing his left arm already bore more than a dozen scars.
This wound was deeper, but Kevin immediately drank his latest potion. The bleeding stopped, the skin knit together, and even the old scars faded entirely.
"Yes! He added a scar-removing draught!" Kevin said, exhilarated.
Snape, still invisible, approached and dipped a finger into the cauldron, tasting the potion.
After a long moment, he turned and left without a word, leaving only a single number scrawled on Kevin's notes:
99 points.