About fifteen minutes later, the first failure appeared.
A student standing near the far end of the room let out a frustrated sigh as the contents of their cauldron turned an unpleasant murky gray—clearly a failed attempt. Over the next hour, two or three more students followed suit, each encountering their own setbacks. Fortunately, it was still early in the session, and they had enough time to start over.
The atmosphere in the room was tense but focused. Cauldrons bubbled softly, releasing steam that carried a variety of strange and sometimes conflicting scents. Some students worked quickly, driven by confidence, while others moved cautiously, double-checking every step.
After an hour and a half of steady effort, the first success finally emerged.
Gemma Farley straightened up slightly, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she examined the potion in her cauldron. The liquid shimmered with a mother-of-pearl sheen, and delicate spirals of steam rose gracefully from its surface. This was the unmistakable sign of a properly brewed Love Potion.
"Not bad, right?" she said, turning her head toward Ryze, who stood nearby observing quietly.
She picked up a clean stirring rod, dipped it lightly into the potion, and let a few drops fall into a small container. Holding it out toward him, she added, "Do you want to smell it? A Love Potion produces a scent that reflects what a person subconsciously desires most. And don't worry—it hasn't been activated yet. Even if you taste a little, the side effects won't be too strong."
There was a casual familiarity in the way she spoke, as though she had experimented with this potion more than once in private.
Ryze hesitated for a moment but leaned forward slightly to catch the scent.
A faint aroma drifted toward him—warm, rich, and deeply nostalgic.
Egg fried rice.
The smell was vivid enough to stir a quiet sense of longing. It reminded him of something simple and comforting, something he hadn't experienced in a long time.
He paused, considering the offer to taste it, but ultimately decided against it.
Gemma had mentioned that even in its unactivated state, the potion could still produce side effects. Trying it alone might have been manageable, but in a room full of people watching, the risk of an embarrassing reaction wasn't worth it.
Seeing his reluctance, Gemma let out a small sigh of disappointment.
"Shame," she murmured. "Not many people know this, but if you don't add a target component to a Love Potion, it essentially becomes a Narcissism Potion. It makes the drinker excessively confident… even self-absorbed."
She glanced at Ryze with a hint of curiosity.
She had been genuinely interested in seeing how someone as composed and steady as him would behave under such an effect.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Penelope had just completed her own potion.
She approached with calm confidence, her expression composed as always.
"Alright, Gemma, stop trying to trick him," she said lightly. "The more you push, the less likely he is to agree."
She, too, dipped a small amount of her potion into a container and handed it to Ryze.
"Take a look at this one as well," she said.
Ryze leaned in again, this time comparing the scent carefully.
If Gemma's potion had a clean and singular aroma, Penelope's was far more complex.
Egg fried rice was still there, but it was layered with other scents—rich chicken soup, the faint sweetness of oat milk, and traces of something else he couldn't quite identify. It felt like a blend of multiple familiar comforts woven together.
"It's… more complicated," Ryze said honestly. "Like a mix of several things."
Penelope gave a small shrug and glanced toward Gemma.
"As expected, there's still a gap between us."
She didn't seem particularly upset—more analytical than disappointed.
"Even though both potions are technically successful," she continued, turning back to Ryze, "a potion with a single, pure scent is generally superior. It indicates stronger focus, which translates to a more potent infatuation effect and a longer duration."
She gestured toward her own potion.
"A standard Love Potion usually lasts a few days. Something like this might last ten days, maybe even half a month—but it won't be as intense."
Gemma nodded in agreement.
"Stronger effects always come with stronger side effects," she added. "Most potions sold commercially are closer to Penelope's version. Balanced, but less extreme."
Ryze listened carefully, committing their explanations to memory.
He began mentally reviewing the differences in their techniques—the way they processed ingredients, the timing of each step, the subtle variations in heat control and stirring rhythm.
By now, he felt confident that he could replicate Penelope's method without too much difficulty.
But he didn't rush.
Instead, he continued observing the other students.
Percy Weasley, for instance, had just finished his potion. His speed was slightly slower than Penelope's, and the result was noticeably weaker. The scent was faint and somewhat muddled, lacking clarity.
If Penelope's potion could last several days, Percy's might only hold for one or two.
Still, compared to the others, his performance was respectable. He had succeeded on his first attempt, which already placed him above many.
With another try, he would likely improve significantly.
After surveying the room, Ryze formed a rough assessment.
Among the fourth- and fifth-year students, Gemma Farley clearly stood at the top. Her precision and control were on a different level.
Penelope, along with a Hufflepuff prefect, formed the next tier—capable and consistent, though not quite matching Gemma's mastery.
Students like Percy, who succeeded but with average results, belonged to the second tier.
Below them were the six students who had already failed once.
Time was still on their side, but only barely. If they failed again, they might not complete the task before noon.
Ryze exhaled quietly.
"Well then," he said to himself, "it's time to begin."
He stepped forward and began selecting the required ingredients from the storage cabinet.
Neither Gemma nor Penelope offered any guidance. They were both curious to see how he would perform on his own—especially given that he had already passed Snape's test.
Ryze, for his part, was also curious.
This was his first real opportunity to test the effectiveness of the "Juicer" ability in a controlled environment.
He deliberately chose not to rely on any form of divination this time. Instead, he trusted his memory and intuition, reconstructing the process step by step.
He started with ingredient preparation, carefully following Penelope's slower, more methodical approach. Each cut, each measure, each adjustment was done with deliberate care.
"He looks like he knows what he's doing," Gemma whispered to Penelope. "He's using your method exactly. Not even attempting mine."
"That makes sense," Penelope replied. "Your technique requires much higher proficiency. Trying to copy it immediately would probably lead to failure."
But as Ryze moved on to the next phase—lighting the fire and adding the ingredients—Penelope's expression shifted.
Something was different.
His preparation followed her method, yes. But his brewing rhythm… didn't.
The timing of his additions, the way he adjusted the flame, even the subtle pauses between movements—none of it matched her approach.
"Did he mix them up?" she muttered, frowning slightly.
Gemma leaned forward, her interest piqued.
Or perhaps… he hadn't mixed them up at all.
Was he combining both techniques?
The thought made her eyes sharpen with curiosity.
To attempt such a synthesis on a first try wasn't just bold—it bordered on reckless. And yet, there was a certain logic in the way he moved, as though each decision was intentional.
Ryze, however, seemed completely unaware of their scrutiny.
He remained focused on the cauldron in front of him, fully immersed in the process.
Whether his approach would succeed—or fail spectacularly—remained to be seen.
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