I live in contradictions, struggle, be tempted by darkness, fascinated by power. Just like the equivalent exchange in alchemy, if there is gain, there must be loss.
I'm a half-blood Slytherin. I have been confused. The first magic riot in my life made me realize that I am a wizard, my mother is a witch, and my father is a Muggle (so-called ordinary people without magic); my first friend, the warmest existence in my heart, different choices made us part ways. I resented that my father's bankruptcy made him shift all responsibilities to the wizard who he considered to be the incarnation of the devil and get drunk all day long; my mother, a pure-blood witch, had the talent for potions inherited from the Psilin family. Love made her lose herself and she left me early. I had dreamed of going to Hogwarts when I was eleven, entering Slytherin, following the Dark Lord, becoming obsessed with potion making, and becoming a potion master...
Potions, my favorite and my pride. I immersed myself in the crucible all day, cutting, squeezing, soaking, dripping juice, stirring and rotating. I carefully added various operating steps and experimented with improving various processing techniques. I was born for this.