The heavy oak door of the Potions dungeon slams shut with a resounding click, the automatic quarantine wards sealing the room from the inside. Thick, iridescent green smoke begins to billow rapidly from a cracked cauldron in the back row, hissing violently as it spills across the stone floor and turns the air freezing cold. On the shelves, jars of pickled fluxweed and beetle eyes rattle against the masonry, reacting to the sudden surge of volatile ambient magic pulsing through the room.