Chapter 30: A Successful Brew
At times, potion-brewing could seem almost mundane, deceptively simple. It led many to believe that even a Muggle, given the right ingredients and instructions, could successfully create a magical draught.
The reality, however, was quite the opposite. Even with the correct materials and meticulous adherence to the steps, a Muggle could never brew a true potion. The process always required subtle magical guidance, sometimes even the use of a wand.
For the Boil-Cure Potion, the explicit magical component came at the very end. The brewer needed to perform a specific hand gesture while silently focusing on a precise incantation, the intent of which was essentially: Imbue this potion with the power to cure boils.
Sean was currently working through the preceding steps.
Faint patches of light dappled the stone walls of the dungeon. The cauldron, simmering over a low flame, emitted a plume of white steam and a faint, clean fragrance. The only sounds in the empty chamber were the gentle bubbling of the liquid and the soft rustle of Sean turning the pages of Magical Drafts and Potions.
Professor Snape had been absolutely clear in their first lesson: potion-making demanded precision and rigor. Sean had turned to the relevant page in his textbook. Though he had memorized it, he kept the book open beside him, just in case.
Step one: weigh the ingredients, stew the horned slugs…
While the cauldron pre-heated, Sean quickly and precisely measured out four sets of ingredients. Then, without wasting a second, he began stewing the horned slugs. During the stewing time, he followed the instructions, crushing the venomous snake fangs with the tools on the workbench and chopping the pre-soaked dried nettles.
The skills he had learned in the greenhouse proved invaluable. He selected and prepared the ingredients to the required standard with an easy competence, leaving him with plenty of spare time. He didn't rest, however. He quickly jotted down the exact quantities and the state of the materials in his notebook. He even noted the approximate state of the flame beneath the cauldron. Although the dungeon cauldrons lit automatically, he knew he would eventually need to learn to control the heat with his wand. He always believed in preparing ahead.
Step two: remove the slugs, add the dried nettles and venomous snake fangs…
With time to spare, Sean re-read the instructions in Magical Drafts and Potions, ensuring nervousness wouldn't cause him to forget a single detail. The dark brown book, its cover embossed with a cauldron and swirling steam, lay open, showing the first page: Basic Potion Brewing Methods: This Book is Sufficient.
Step three: stir twice counter-clockwise, then three times clockwise, with moderate force…
Using the 'bubble-breaking' force he had deduced, Sean stirred the simmering potion with a steady, controlled motion. He couldn't deny the knot of tension in his stomach. Professor Snape could appear at any moment, and there was no guarantee his attempt would succeed. Fear of the unknown was a natural human response, and Sean was no exception. He focused all his energy on being meticulous.
Almost there. Add the slugs back in, then remove the cauldron from the heat before adding the porcupine quills.
This was the most critical stage. The moment the stewed slugs hit the liquid, they dissolved, turning the potion a pale blue. Sean began counting down silently in his head: Twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three… Even as he counted, he meticulously recorded every detail of the subsequent steps—timing, ingredient states, heat levels.
Now came the moment of truth.
Sean stirred the cauldron one last time, performed the required gesture, and focused on the silent incantation. The cauldron bubbled for a moment longer, and then the liquid solidified into…
A blue-green, jelly-like substance.
Blue-green? That wasn't right. The Panel remained silent. He had failed.
But looking at the final result, he knew he hadn't failed by much. He frowned. If the ingredient preparation was correct, the error must have occurred during the brewing process itself. Was it the stirring? The heat? The final incantation? Or all three?
A passage from Magical Theory echoed in his mind:
…however, to truly unleash the full potential of any magic, one must also possess sufficient mental fortitude.
He recalled the specific wording— any magic. Did that include Potions? Was his mental state affecting the outcome?
He knew his talent for Potions was limited, just like with Charms. He might need hundreds of attempts to truly master the technique. But he didn't have that kind of time, nor an endless supply of ingredients. He had to find a shortcut.
He carefully pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making and scanned the dense, complex text. Soon, he found the passage that made his eyes light up.
The Ministry of Magic classifies Polyjuice Potion as highly dangerous, primarily because its effects are significantly influenced by the brewer's emotional state during preparation. Strict regulation is required.
He didn't know the exact emotion required for brewing, but he knew that tension and a purely mechanical approach were definitely wrong.
As he lit the fire under the cauldron for his second attempt, he consciously forced his body to relax. He reasoned with himself: if Snape caught him, he was doomed whether he succeeded or failed. So, wasn't a successful failure preferable to a simple failure?
His green eyes became deep and calm once more, and even the way he stirred the potion took on a strange, fluid rhythm. He had always been adept at controlling his emotions; a child who couldn't do so wouldn't last long at Hollysage Orphanage.
The nettles dissolved like sugar candy, the fangs hissed as they merged with the liquid. He controlled the heat exactly as before, but this time, he allowed himself to feel like he was engaging in an art form. The subtle science and exact art of Potion-making.
Steam curled gracefully from the cauldron. Time slipped by in the quiet dungeon, marked only by the gentle clink of the ladle against the pewter.
When he added the porcupine quills this time, the cooling potion seemed to eagerly absorb the final ingredient. He performed the final gesture and incantation with focused intent.
There was no gradual change. This time, the potion seemed to obey his will, churning rapidly. Within moments, the liquid solidified into a jelly, its colour deepening to a perfect, dark green.
[You have successfully brewed a Boil-Cure Potion to the Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
Sean's eyes shone with triumph. He stared at the dark green, jelly-like substance, a wide grin spreading uncontrollably across his face.
He didn't waste a second. He immediately recorded every detail of the successful process in his notebook, adding a crucial observation in large, bold letters:
POTIONS IS A PRECISE ART. THE WIZARD'S FOCUS AND CALM ARE KEY.
He was lost in his analysis and note-taking when, suddenly, the torchlight on the dungeon stairs flickered violently.
From the top of the cold stone steps, the black hem of a robe swirled into view.