"Huh…"
Putting the book down, Sean rubbed his brow and glanced out the window, murmuring to himself, "This won't do. With a formula like this and the brewing difficulty so high, you can't get results without sinking in a lot of money.
The failure rate of this Wolfsbane Potion is just too high. Unless it's brewed by a top-tier potion master — someone like Snape or Slughorn — you're bound to fail two or three batches for every one that works. That's the same as tripling the price of ingredients outright. And that's not something an ordinary wizarding family could ever afford."
Was the Wolfsbane Potion useful?
Absolutely.
Was its invention a breakthrough?
No question about it.
Could it truly change the lives of werewolves?
Impossible — not in this reality.
Leaving aside the steep patent fees that would go to Damocles, just the raw ingredients alone would crush most werewolf families, who were already scraping by at the edge of society. Worse still, the potion didn't work like a one-time cure. A werewolf needed to drink it every single month — on the night of the full moon — to stay sane through the transformation.
And if they couldn't afford it one month? Back to being a mindless beast.
Plus, as Sean had just muttered, brewing this potion wasn't child's play. Without a master's skill, it was all too easy to waste precious ingredients on failed batches. All things considered, the Wolfsbane Potion might have looked like salvation in the papers — but for most werewolves, it was a luxury just out of reach.
Sean stared down at the dense notes in front of him, tapping his wand lightly against the table. His brow furrowed deeper.
Was it possible… to tweak the Wolfsbane formula? To make it easier to brew? Cheaper?
The thought stuck in his mind like a burr. Almost against his will, Sean began scribbling out Damocles's original formula on parchment, breaking it apart ingredient by ingredient, step by step.
Truth be told, he hadn't planned on throwing himself headlong into another research project this holiday. He'd only meant to keep himself occupied, to kill time at home. But the more he stared at the Wolfsbane Potion, the deeper he sank.
Before he realized it, the days blurred together. Aside from meals and the odd chat with his parents or Caesar, Sean's whole world shrank to his notes and cauldron.
Just like that, August was nearly over.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Adrian opened it and immediately stepped aside to let Aldridge in.
"Sir, is the young master still in the study?"
These days, Aldridge was up to his neck in the relocation of the training area. He'd found an abandoned orphanage on the outskirts of London — hidden enough to avoid Ministry eyes, yet close enough to keep things connected. After weeks of cleaning, repairing, and weaving protective charms, it had turned into a new refuge for the children and adults from the training area. Under Aldridge's careful planning — and with the help of the adult wizards loyal to Sean — the orphanage's interior now had far more space than it appeared to from the outside. In truth, the total usable area was even larger than the old grounds back at Bulstrode Manor.
During this transition, Aldridge made it a point to come to Sean's house every week to report personally — covering everything from the latest repairs to the expenses drawn from Sean's private vault. Sean never refused him. He always listened quietly, accepted the ledgers, and signed off on the funds. Today was another one of those days.
Adrian reached for a plate of neatly cut fruit that Emerald had just brought in. Handing it to Aldridge, he patted him lightly on the shoulder.
"Give this to Sean when you're up there. He's been buried in that potion work for weeks now. Even though he still eats meals with us, he hardly touches fruit at all. Make sure he eats it. And you — you look like you've lost ten pounds since last month. Eat with him. Don't push yourself until you fall over."
Aldridge accepted the plate with both hands, his expression softening a little. "Thank you, sir. I will."
"Good lad. Now go on — and don't let him wriggle out of eating half of that, understood?"
Nodding with a rare small smile, Aldridge climbed the stairs to the study. He knocked lightly before entering.
Sean didn't even look up from his desk. Parchment, open books, and stacks of notes littered every corner. Quill in hand, he was bent over a page covered in lines of numbers and strange symbols that Aldridge, no matter how many times he tried, could never decipher.
Without glancing away, Sean gestured slightly. "You're here? Good. Sit down for a bit. Let me finish this first — then we'll talk about the budget and the new dormitories."
Aldridge did as he was told, carefully setting the fruit platter on the corner of Sean's cluttered desk. He didn't interrupt — he knew better than to break Sean's focus mid-calculation.
He let his eyes drift to the pages Sean was scribbling on. Lines of neat Arithmancy symbols were mixed with odd notations he recognized as Muggle mathematical formulas — algebra, chemistry equations, units and ratios Aldridge could only squint at in confusion. He'd asked once, trying not to sound too much like an old wizard out of touch with the modern world:
"Young Master… how can these Muggle 'sciences' help you with potions?"
Sean's answer had been short and offhand: "Magic is the art, science is the framework. The more we understand the rules, the better the art works."
At the time, Aldridge hadn't understood a word of it. Even now, he could only chalk it up to one truth that never failed to calm him: His young master was far too clever for the rest of them.
"Sure enough, this ingredient really can be replaced!"
Putting down his quill, Sean Bulstrode exhaled sharply, the tension leaving his shoulders as a rare smile tugged at his lips.
After more than a month buried in calculations, cross-referencing grimoires, and testing properties on parchment, he'd finally found it — a substitute for one of the key ingredients in the Wolfsbane Potion. By combining six far cheaper, more common ingredients, he'd confirmed — at least on paper — that the final potion's magical interactions wouldn't be weakened or disrupted. Even better, these substitutes cost only about a tenth of the original rare ingredient's price. As for brewing? Any Hogwarts second or third-year with steady hands could manage it — there was no need for a master like Snape or Slughorn at every step.
Sean took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, as if clearing a month's worth of stale library air from his lungs. Then he turned his eyes to Aldridge, who had been waiting patiently at the side.
"Aldridge," Sean asked, voice calm but with a spark of excitement he couldn't quite hide, "how's the lab coming along over there?"
When Aldridge first came to report on the relocation, he'd mentioned he'd set aside a secure space for Sean — a proper lab in the new orphanage, ready for potion experiments away from prying eyes.
Aldridge straightened his posture at once. "Young master, the laboratory is basically ready. Apart from a few high-end magical instruments we haven't moved yet, the rest is all in place."
Sean nodded. "That's enough. I just need it to test this new version — see if my substitute actually works in practice. It'll do fine for brewing. But before that, we need to stop by Diagon Alley together. I'll need fresh supplies for the trials — then we can head straight to the orphanage."
"Understood, young master." Aldridge's answer was crisp, but the relief in his eyes was obvious. After weeks of seeing Sean locked away in the study, even Aldridge had started to worry.
Downstairs, Adrian watched the two of them leave through the front door. He let out a long sigh of relief and turned to Margaret, who was sitting by the window rocking Caesar gently in her arms.
"Sean's finally stepping outside again. He's been cooped up in that study for so long — I was really starting to think he'd make himself sick."
Margaret glanced up at Adrian, then looked down at her baby, who cooed softly in his blanket. She chuckled, warm but a little weary.
"I asked Aldridge about it the other day," she said softly. "He told me the academic journal Sean got published in is called… something gold… Gold Crucible?"
"The Golden Crucible, Margaret." Adrian corrected her with a smile. "It's the top potion journal here — maybe all of Europe."
Margaret nodded, tightening her hold on Caesar. "Then whatever Sean's researching now might really help people. If he can really make Wolfsbane Potion affordable, then all those poor werewolf families… well, maybe they'll finally have a chance. As long as he stays healthy, I think we should keep supporting him — no matter how busy he gets."
Adrian blinked, surprised for a moment. Then he turned to look at the closed door through which Sean and Aldridge had just left.
A quiet pride filled his chest. He nodded slowly.
"You're right. We should support him — as much as we can."