Although Vizet had never formally learned to brew a Befuddlement Draught, he had long since mastered the art of potion-making on command. As long as he could follow instructions, completing the process posed little challenge.
Once he settled into the rhythm of Snape's directions, he even found time to open his notebook and jot down each step and key detail.
"Reheat the cauldron. Add the sliced sneezeweed and hold it over the flame for five minutes... Once the grey mist clears, stir in the frog brain and castor oil paste. Increase to high heat..."
Vizet carefully scooped out a dose of the pinkish-purple liquid, which gave off a thick, acrid smell — something between burning rubber and leaded petrol.
Snape silently retrieved another toad and dropped the potion across its back.
This time, the result was encouraging. The toad began croaking wildly, leapt about the desk with reckless abandon, and showed no concern about crashing into the walls.
"Well..." Snape gave a low grunt of approval, tossing the overstimulated toad into a second cage before sealing it in the cabinet. "Again. Brew it again — this time exactly as I say."
He swept another set of potion ingredients onto the table, his tone more brusque than before.
"Boil the dew on high. Add the lovage directly... Chop the scurvy grass however you like. No technique needed."
"Mix the frog brains and castor oil into a paste — yes, straight into the cauldron! And throw in the sneezeweed as well. No — stop!"
Midway through his instructions, Snape suddenly waved his wand. All the potion materials on the table vanished.
Then came a strange command: "Do it your way. I want to see what you come up with."
"Huh?" Vizet looked up in confusion. "You mean I should ignore everything you just told me? Even the steps from before?"
"Exactly. No notes, no timing, no method. Just follow your instinct." Snape folded his arms. "Improvise."
"...Alright." Though uncertain, Vizet nodded.
He took a moment to close his eyes, letting his mind clear. A sense of calm descended over him — almost like entering a trance.
His pupils lost focus, his gaze turning glassy and vague, as if he'd drifted slightly out of phase with the world.
In that state, Vizet began to move.
He grabbed a random handful of ingredients and crushed them into juice with the stone mortar, seemingly without thought. The frog brains and castor oil went straight into the cauldron and began to sizzle.
Once a strange scent filled the air, he added the crude mixture of scurvy grass, lovage, and sneezeweed all at once.
A sharp crackle burst from the cauldron as an even more pungent stench replaced the previous one — something feral and sour, like rotting algae and rust.
It took him only a third of the usual time to complete the brew. The result was a potion that shimmered pink and purple with an oily sheen.
Snape summoned a third toad. As before, he drizzled the potion over its back.
The reaction was instantaneous — and far more violent than before.
The toad shrieked and flailed, eyes rolling wildly. It slammed itself repeatedly against the walls, injuring its limbs in a frenzy of self-harm. It looked fully lost to madness.
"...What was that?" Vizet asked, staring wide-eyed at the writhing creature.
Snape calmly trapped the toad inside a third cage and replied, "As I mentioned in my letter — stop brewing the Soul Soothing Draught for now. The Obscurus is interfering."
"You've done remarkably well suppressing it," he continued. "Only one incident so far — Halloween. But the Obscurus is still part of you. Every now and then, its influence leaks out, especially through dark magic or potion-making."
Vizet hesitated. "Will it... harm the people around me?"
"Not yet," Snape replied flatly, waving his wand to clean the cauldron and clear the air. Only a few potion samples remained.
"If you want to expel those Obscurial traits, dark magic and potion-making are your most efficient channels..."
As he spoke, he watched Vizet's face carefully.
But Vizet only nodded, calm as ever. No panic. No fear in his expression.
Satisfied, Snape added, "You're holding it together well. Keep it that way."
Vizet blinked, then asked tentatively, "Professor Snape... is there anything else I should watch out for?"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Watch out for what? Just stay alive. I've no interest in dealing with a ghost named Vizet haunting my office."
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Vizet had just stepped out of the office when a tall cabinet creaked open — and Dumbledore emerged from within.
"Severus... You could have left the toads on the table. There's no need to hand them to me directly."
Snape waved his wand indifferently. "Since you're already in my office, it's only fair you do something useful."
"If I didn't put them away myself, Vizet — being Vizet — would've kindly sorted them back into the cabinet. Then he'd find you in there."
Dumbledore chuckled, placing the unconscious toad gently on the desk. "That does sound like him. A very thoughtful boy."
Snape flicked his wand again. The three toads floated from their cages and hovered midair. Another wave conjured three glass jars, which descended neatly over them.
Dumbledore picked up two of the jars. "I'll take these. I want to observe how the potions continue to affect them over time."
"The results won't surprise you," Snape replied, nodding toward the third toad still resting by the potion equipment. "It'll develop characteristics — some of them Vizet's."
He remembered what had happened over the Christmas holidays. Several toads, rendered unconscious during Vizet's potion testing, had awoken changed. Their temperaments shifted — subtle, but unmistakable.
They had grown calm. Inquisitive. Harmless.
They no longer panicked when confined. They examined their surroundings as if trying to understand them. Some even stared at the potion tools with quiet curiosity, tilting their heads as if pondering their purpose.
And above all, they looked at the world with eyes that reflected Vizet's own gaze: composed, keenly observant, and open.
Returning to the present, Snape said darkly, "This suggests... his soul might be influencing the consumer directly through certain potions. That's my current assessment."
Dumbledore nodded, intrigued. "Yes, based on your descriptions — and what we just witnessed — I'd arrive at a similar conclusion. Fascinating... truly fascinating!"
He gazed thoughtfully at the toads in the jars.
"A soul that abundant... It's like a spring that never stops flowing. I've never seen anything quite like it. The implications are staggering. But where did he come from?"
Snape exhaled through his nose, voice low and blunt. "With all your supposed omniscience, you still don't know Vizet's true background?"
Dumbledore gave a long sigh. "Not a single trace. And the dark wizard who harmed him — that trail is just as empty. It's as if they both appeared from thin air."
"Whoever hid them did it deliberately — and did it well," he added grimly. "There are no gaps, no inconsistencies, not even faint magical traces to follow. Uncovering the truth could take years... or more."
Snape's gaze drifted back to the potion equipment. "The origin doesn't matter as much."
"What matters," he said slowly, "is why. What purpose does that dark wizard have — to subject Vizet to such torment?"
Dumbledore's eyes dimmed as he recalled Vizet's medical evaluations. "I had St. Mungo's perform an exhaustive examination. His body showed no lasting damage. Whatever curses had touched him were healed completely by Fawkes."
Snape's voice cut in sharply. "And his soul?"
Dumbledore paused.
"Even with Legilimency," he said at last, "we can't easily peer into the soul itself. You know that better than anyone — you're a master of it yourself."
Snape didn't reply. His silence was an answer in itself.