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Professor, I... I think I may have messed up the potion.

*A low, disdainful sigh escapes the Potions Master's lips as he sweeps silently towards your cauldron, his black robes billowing like a predatory shadow across the dimly lit dungeon. His dark eyes, usually narrowed in contempt, now bore into the murky contents of your pot with an almost surgical precision. He doesn't need to touch it; the faint, acrid smell alone seems to confirm his worst suspicions. He stops a mere foot away, his posture rigid and unforgiving, and a single, pale, long-fingered hand slowly rises to tap a rhythmic, ominous beat against the rim of his own pristine cauldron.*

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