For Snape, the standard of "excellent quality" was a rather peculiar one. It did not mean brilliance, creativity, or even noticeable improvement. At most, it simply meant that the brewing process had not gone wrong—that no ingredients had been wasted.
This was precisely the evaluation he gave to Ryze's Elixir of Euphoria.
Under normal circumstances, such a comment might sound dismissive, even harsh. But within this classroom, where criticism was the norm and praise was rare to the point of near extinction, it was already considered the gentlest assessment Snape had offered that day.
With only one week remaining before the one-month deadline, tension had reached a boiling point. The students, especially those in the higher years, understood that they were running out of time to refine their ideas. In an effort to produce something worthy of approval, many abandoned their earlier caution and began experimenting with more aggressive—and often riskier—modifications.
The results were immediate and disastrous.
Two cauldrons exploded during the lesson, right in front of Snape. The blasts sent fumes and fragments across the room, forcing nearby students to retreat in panic. Snape, however, remained unmoved. His response was swift and merciless. He criticized the flawed logic behind their experimental approaches with cutting precision, dismantling their reasoning as thoroughly as their potions had destroyed themselves.
Even the most outstanding students were not spared.
Gemma Farley, widely regarded as one of the top performers, had attempted an ambitious enhancement. Her goal was to significantly increase the potency of the Elixir of Euphoria while simultaneously suppressing its side effects. To achieve this, she devised a highly complex formula, the result of extensive calculations and careful planning.
However, the cost was staggering.
The number of ingredients required was nearly double that of the standard formula. While her potion did demonstrate a measurable increase in potency, Snape dismissed her work without hesitation. The improvement, he argued, was negligible compared to the excessive cost. In practical terms, it was a failure.
Penelope, on the other hand, had taken the opposite approach.
Rather than increasing complexity, she sought simplification. By identifying certain components that contributed to side effects, she replaced them with alternative ingredients. The result was a potion that was safer and more stable, with significantly reduced negative effects.
But this came at a price.
Its potency dropped sharply, barely meeting the minimum acceptable threshold. Snape's verdict was no kinder. A potion that could not perform its intended function effectively was no better than a diluted imitation.
At the end of the lesson, Snape delivered a final warning.
"I have given you three weeks," he said coldly, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Yet the level of incompetence displayed here is becoming increasingly intolerable. At this time next week, if you fail to present a potion that meets my standards, at least half of you will be eliminated."
With that, he turned and left the Potions classroom.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Even as the clock passed noon, no one dared to relax. Instead of leaving for lunch, most students remained at their stations, reviewing notes, recalculating formulas, and trying to salvage whatever progress they could from the day's failures.
Penelope was among them.
She stood before her cauldron, her expression tense, her mind clearly still occupied with unresolved problems. Seeing that she had no intention of leaving, Percy approached her.
Over the past few weeks, the two of them had collaborated closely, sharing ideas and refining their improvement strategies together. Percy hesitated for a moment before speaking, choosing his words carefully.
"Your results today weren't as bad as you think," he began. "Yes, the potency dropped more than we expected, but the material cost has been reduced to about seventy-five percent of the original. If we can adjust the formula slightly—just enough to bring the potency back up to around eighty percent—I'm sure Professor Snape will accept it."
He paused, then added, "Compared to Farley's approach, yours is far more practical. Her costs are at least double, and the improvement isn't even that significant."
Penelope did not look up.
"This isn't a math problem, Percy," she replied quietly.
Her tone was calm, but there was a firmness to it that made Percy uneasy.
"Gemma chose an aggressive path," she continued. "After today, she'll understand where she needs to compromise. But our plan…" She shook her head slightly. "Our plan was supposed to be the optimal solution after three weeks of careful thought. If we simply try to restore the lost potency without addressing the underlying issues, we're not solving anything."
Percy frowned. "But isn't that the goal? To improve it step by step?"
"The question isn't whether we can restore the potency," Penelope said. "It's how we do it without increasing the cost again. If we fail at that, then everything we've done so far becomes meaningless."
She turned back to her cauldron, clearly signaling that the conversation was over.
At that moment, Ryze, who had already finished packing his equipment, passed by on his way out. He intended to continue practicing in the Room of Requirement, making use of every available moment before the deadline.
"Good luck next week," Penelope said, forcing a small smile despite her fatigue.
Percy nodded as well. "Your potion today was impressive," he said. "For a first-year student, reaching this level in just three weeks is no small achievement."
Ryze responded modestly. "Thank you, but according to Professor Snape, it's just standard brewing—nothing more than not wasting materials." He paused briefly. "I'm still trying to figure out what to do next week. Good luck to both of you."
With that, he left the classroom.
Percy watched him go, his expression gradually becoming more complicated.
"Not wasting materials…" he murmured.
Then, as if arriving at a sudden realization, he turned to Penelope.
"If even you aren't confident," he said slowly, "then I think I should abandon our current plan."
Penelope looked at him in surprise. "Abandon it?"
"Do you have a better idea?" she asked.
Percy shook his head, then gestured toward the door through which Ryze had just exited.
"Look at him," Percy said. "For three weeks, he hasn't made any aggressive changes. He's just been refining the basics. And yet, his results have been improving steadily."
He took a breath.
"Snape's comment today—'not wasting materials'—wasn't praise, but it was still the highest evaluation given. That has to mean something."
Penelope frowned immediately.
"That evaluation was for a first-year student," she said sharply. "We're fifth-years, Percy. Do you really think submitting a standard textbook potion will be enough for Snape to pass you?"
Percy's expression tightened, but he pressed on.
"Our current plan isn't working," he argued. "We've reduced side effects, yes, but the potency is still lacking. If I keep going down this path, I honestly don't think I'll make it."
He gestured toward the rest of the classroom.
"Everyone else is struggling too. Their ideas are all over the place. If I can produce a high-quality standard potion next week—and maybe make a few minor improvements—I think my chances of staying will be much higher."
Penelope stared at him, disbelief evident in her eyes.
"This is a selection process," she said slowly. "Everyone here is trying to push their limits, to improve their skills. Even if they fail, they gain experience."
She paused, then added, "What you're proposing isn't strategy—it's stagnation. And do you really think Snape won't see through it?"
Percy clenched his fists.
"This isn't about pride," he said. "It's about survival. If I can make it past next week, I can at least stay until Christmas. I won't be eliminated before a first-year student."
The room fell silent.
Penelope looked at him for a long moment, her expression gradually hardening.
"Why are you comparing yourself to him?" she asked.
"Ryze has been improving his fundamentals every single day. Do you think he doesn't want to innovate? He does—but he understands his limitations."
She continued, her voice gaining intensity.
"I spoke to him last night. I asked about the materials we suggested for improvement, and he could explain all of them clearly. He hasn't acted on them yet because his theoretical foundation isn't strong enough—not because he lacks ambition."
Penelope crossed her arms.
"I guarantee he hasn't given up on improving the potion. He's probably in an empty classroom right now, practicing. Next week, his potion won't just be 'not wasting materials.'"
She looked directly at Percy.
"And when that happens," she said quietly, "who do you think will lose more face?"
Percy had no answer.
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