After Ryze lit the fire beneath his cauldron, those who had already completed their potions couldn't help but glance in his direction.
Most of those looks, however, carried clear doubt and scrutiny.
Even though the Love Potion was considered one of the simpler sixth-year potions, a young wizard who had only been at school for two months would barely understand the fundamental principles behind potion-making. Under such circumstances, how could he possibly complete the brewing of such an advanced potion?
Memorizing the steps alone was far from enough. The real challenge lay in maintaining focus throughout the brewing process and skillfully infusing magic into the potion—both of which required time, patience, and extensive practice.
For an eleven-year-old wizard, no matter how impressive his reputation among the lower years might be, it was difficult to believe that he could already control the magic within his body with such precision.
And in truth, although Ryze was clearly trying to imitate the techniques of Penelope and Gemma Farley, his lack of experience was obvious.
His timing when adding ingredients was occasionally off, and his movements while stirring and channeling magic appeared stiff and awkward. Several times, it seemed as though the potion in his cauldron would spill over. The steam rising from it was uneven and scattered, giving the impression that failure was imminent at any moment.
"The steps aren't wrong," Percy remarked quietly, "but it all feels a bit forced."
Percy had a good relationship with Penelope—or rather, he was in the process of pursuing her. After finishing his own potion and organizing his workstation, he walked over to stand beside her, observing Ryze's brewing together.
From Percy's perspective, Ryze would be lucky to last half an hour on his first attempt. Brewing advanced potions required a steady rhythm, and Ryze's current state didn't suggest he could maintain it for long.
In truth, Percy's words were rather generous. If he were being completely honest, Ryze's process looked like a chaotic mess—lacking structure, consistency, and refinement. By all appearances, he was nothing more than a complete beginner.
Penelope didn't respond, but her silence spoke volumes. She, too, believed that Ryze's attempt would most likely end in failure.
Potion-making demanded careful control over multiple variables, all working in harmony. Yet Ryze's rhythm was erratic—sometimes rushed, sometimes inexplicably slow. For someone like Penelope, whose style emphasized stability and precision, watching him work was almost uncomfortable.
And yet, somehow, Ryze managed to keep this unstable process from collapsing.
Each time it seemed like the potion was about to fail, he would scramble to correct it using various improvised methods.
At one point, Percy even noticed a particular adjustment that looked strangely familiar. It resembled a corrective technique he himself had used when he encountered an issue midway through brewing the Love Potion—one that forced him to increase the heat and accelerate his stirring to compensate.
Gemma Farley initially shared the same opinion as the others. Ryze's technique appeared clumsy, and she expected him to fail quickly.
However, the longer she observed, the more her perception began to shift.
Ryze didn't seem to be acting randomly.
Instead, it looked as though he was drawing from multiple people's brewing techniques at once—borrowing fragments, adapting them, and applying them according to his current understanding. He relied heavily on intuition, stitching together these borrowed methods in a way that somehow met the potion's requirements.
Even more surprising was the fact that he appeared to learn from others' failures in real time. Mistakes that had caused other students to fail simply didn't occur in his process.
Could it be that this junior student actually possessed considerable talent in potion-making? Was that why Professor Snape had selected him?
The thought crossed her mind more than once.
By the time Ryze had passed the midpoint of the brewing process, Gemma lost interest in watching him further.
From her perspective, surviving the early and middle stages meant the hardest part was already over. While the final stage still carried some risk, it was unlikely that he would fail outright at this point.
Eventually, the bell signaling the lunch break rang.
Out of the fourteen participants, four—including Ryze—had yet to complete their potions.
Snape stepped out of his office, his expression as cold and severe as ever. He cast a sharp glance at the four still-working stations, their cauldrons emitting steady heat.
"I'll give you ten more minutes," he said with a heavy snort. "Anyone who hasn't finished by then will be eliminated."
The announcement immediately put pressure on the remaining students.
The three upper-year students still working grew visibly anxious and began to speed up their movements.
But in potion-making, haste often led to disaster.
Under normal circumstances, these students would have been confident in successfully brewing the Love Potion. However, the sudden time constraint disrupted their rhythm, introducing small but critical errors into their process.
Five minutes later, the first failure occurred.
A Gryffindor student made a mistake, causing his cauldron to explode violently. The blast startled everyone nearby, and the Hufflepuff student beside him was caught in the aftermath. His own brewing process was disrupted, leading to his failure less than a minute later.
In the end, only two people remained: Ryze and a Slytherin student.
With just two minutes left, the Slytherin student finally completed his potion. Seeing it display all the required characteristics, he let out a long breath of relief.
Now, all eyes turned to Ryze.
His movements were still just as clumsy as before—fumbling, inconsistent, almost chaotic. It gave the impression that he was simply acting on impulse rather than following any structured method.
More than once, it looked as though his cauldron would explode.
And yet, against all expectations, it didn't.
With sweat dripping down his face, Ryze pushed through the final steps. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, breathing heavily as he completed the potion.
There was still one minute left on the clock.
The timing, at least, was perfect.
Of course, no one would mistake Ryze's Love Potion for one brewed by Penelope or Gemma Farley.
Even compared to second-tier students like Percy, there was a noticeable gap.
The potion's color was dull and lifeless, lacking any sheen. Its scent was faint and muddled, with no clear defining notes. In fact, Ryze himself caught a strange hint of something resembling paint—a smell he vaguely remembered finding oddly pleasant as a child in his previous life.
Despite its low quality, however, there was no denying the result.
He had successfully brewed a Love Potion on his first attempt.
And that fact alone changed everything.
No one present looked down on him because of the potion's flaws. On the contrary, the pressure he exerted on the others seemed to increase.
After all, making a mess once and succeeding could be dismissed as luck.
But maintaining that same chaotic approach from start to finish—and still producing a complete potion—was something entirely different. That wasn't coincidence. It was a sign of raw, unconventional talent.
Even Snape, who had been silently observing from the doorway the entire time, couldn't hide his reaction.
He frowned deeply as he looked at Ryze.
Over the past two months, Ryze had been entirely unremarkable in potion class. He followed instructions rigidly, sticking to the blackboard notes and textbook methods without deviation. There had been nothing particularly impressive about his work.
Even when he brewed the Shrinking Potion the previous day, he had barely managed to complete it, relying on improvised tricks to scrape by. At most, it suggested he had a certain aptitude for Divination—but it said little about his ability in potion-making.
And yet, in the span of a single day, something had clearly changed.
It was as if he had suddenly gained insight—like a door had opened in his understanding of potions.
Snape's gaze sharpened.
What, exactly, had happened to this boy?
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