Evander had been dubious of the first young man's ability to brew even a simple potion so fast - and with such... liveliness - but when he stepped up to examine it, he found the perfect shade of pink smoke rising from it. Two of the others had done admirably well, too, with their potions the correct colour and texture - it took him a second survey to decide the better between the two, though eventually settled on the gentleman's - and might have announced this without fanfare if the blond fellow's cauldron had not at that moment begun to melt onto the floor with a terrible smell.

"Excuse me, sir -" Evander began, about to ask what on earth the youth had done, but at that point some of the liquid spat upwards and caught its creator in the face, where boils started erupting. Ah. So much for a cure.

There was a brief pause of necessity as the mess was cleared and Mr. Spryly escorted off to undo his badly misjudged backfire, before Evander could resume the competition where they had left off. "Mr. Whitechapel and Mr. Byrne, then," he said, clearing his throat. "If you could now brew an Antidote to Common Poisons, please."

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