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[Hogwarts] Ch 72: The Elixir That Enhances Life Itself
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 19:15:30 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
With Quirrell no longer interfering, Harry's broom finally returned to normal.
He dove sharply, and Higgs, thinking Harry had lost control, didn't pay much attention and kept scanning the sky for the Snitch.
Then, to everyone's shock, Harry clutched his mouth as if he was about to throw up… and literally spat out the Golden Snitch.
And just like that, the match ended in the most absurd way imaginable.
Gryffindor won, 170 to 60. Slytherin looked like they were mourning a funeral, while Gryffindor was partying like it was Christmas.
No one could believe Harry's mouth game was that good—he actually caught the Snitch with his mouth. Flint tried to complain about cheating, but Madam Hooch completely ignored him.
After all, the rules never said how the Snitch had to be caught.
As the crowd started to disperse, talk shifted from the match to Quirrell's misfortune.
Plenty of people had seen him take a Bludger to the head at full speed—he really got blasted. Most people would be out cold or half-dead from that. But not Quirrell. Not only did he survive, he woke up from being knocked out, refused medical treatment, and walked back to the castle on his own.
Strangely enough, he earned quite a bit of respect. At least in terms of pain tolerance and sheer stubbornness, people were ready to call him the toughest guy at Hogwarts.
— — —
Inside Hagrid's Cabin
"It was Snape," Hermione said seriously, explaining to Harry and Hagrid. "I saw it through my binoculars—he was muttering a spell while looking at Harry's broom. I was on my way to stop him, but halfway there, Professor Quirrell got hit, and Snape stopped casting. That's when Harry caught the Snitch."
Hermione had originally planned to meet up with Tom and Daphne after the match, but she couldn't resist Hagrid's warm invitation and ended up tagging along to his hut. At least now she had the chance to fill Harry in.
"Rubbish," Hagrid snorted. "Why would Professor Snape do something like that?"
"I think he's trying to steal whatever's hidden on the third floor," Harry suddenly chimed in.
Hagrid looked shocked. "What did you say? Wait… you know what's up there?"
"No," Harry shook his head honestly. "But on Halloween night, I saw Snape limping down from upstairs—looked like he got bitten. Maybe by that three-headed dog."
"You know about Fluffy?!" Hagrid was downright stunned now.
"Fluffy?" Hermione blinked. "That's the name of the three-headed dog?"
"Yeah, I got him off a Greek bloke," Hagrid muttered. "I lent him to Dumbledore to guard—"
He abruptly stopped and glanced at Hermione, Ron, and Harry, who were all staring at him with eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"I'm not telling you anything else," he said quickly.
"Snape is a professor," Hagrid added firmly. "Even if he did hate James—"
"James?" Harry's eyes lit up. "Wait—Hagrid, are you saying Snape knew my dad?"
Realizing he'd said too much, Hagrid waved his massive arms. "That's ancient history. It's got nothing to do with you. Just forget about Fluffy—and forget about what he's guarding."
"That's between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"
"Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione immediately scribbled that name down in her mental notebook.
Smack!
Hagrid slapped himself in the face and shooed them out of the hut.
— — —
Forbidden Forest
The potion was nearing completion. Tom told Kaka he could head back—Tom could handle the rest on his own from now on.
Once the dragonblood was added, the potion began to bubble violently, radiating intense heat as thick white mist rose from the cauldron.
Tom conjured a gentle breeze to disperse the mist without disturbing the brew itself.
After another half hour, the potion had reduced by half and turned the deep crimson that Andros described—thick, gleaming like liquid gemstones.
"…Andros, you sure this thing is safe to drink?" Tom asked cautiously. This wasn't something he could afford to mess up.
Andros inspected it again and replied, "The color's right. Does it smell a little metallic? Like blood, but also slightly sharp?"
Tom nodded. That was exactly it.
"Then it's good. Drink up, no worries."
Trusting Andros, Tom began dividing the potion with a precise scale—each dose was five ounces, about 140 grams.
The batch produced seven doses, enough for seven uses.
Without hesitation, he downed one.
The thick, syrupy liquid clung to his throat, refusing to go down easily. He had to force himself to swallow repeatedly. It tasted like coagulated blood.
Before he could even complain, the effects kicked in.
It felt like a volcano erupted in his heart, and waves of heat spread through his entire body.
His face turned red, steam started rising from his skin, and even though the forest was freezing, he felt like he'd stepped into a sauna.
He quickly turned to Andros.
"There's supposed to be special movements, right? Teach me, quick!"
Andros didn't waste time. Every second counted now that the potion was active. He began demonstrating a series of bizarre poses.
On their own, these movements did nothing. But when combined with the potion, they helped the body absorb its energy far more efficiently.
Sure, some human wizards could surpass dragons—Dumbledore, Voldemort—but that didn't mean their life essence was stronger than magical beasts like dragons or sphinxes. They were still human—just smarter and more in tune with magic.
This potion worked by infusing your body with the life force of magical creatures. It didn't just make you stronger—it also enhanced your mental strength and even extended your lifespan.
For over ten minutes, Andros guided Tom through three full cycles of these motions. With his memory, Tom quickly memorized every step.
Each set of moves drained a portion of the energy flooding his body, and his temperature gradually cooled.
...
An hour later, Tom's body returned to normal temperature, and the energy had been fully absorbed.
Despite the intense workout, Tom felt better than ever—his body was bursting with energy, his mind was sharp, and his thoughts were clear.
And as for his magic…
"Diffindo!"
His wrist flicked like lightning. A beam of magic shot out and struck a large tree, instantly splitting it into countless pieces that rained down all over the forest floor.
"My spells feel sharper now," Tom said, inspecting his work.
Andros wasn't surprised. "That's to be expected. Your mental state directly affects the nature of your spells. You've improved physically, so your magic will grow stronger too. Soon, you'll be ready to learn some large-scale spells."
Tom nodded. He liked the sound of that—overwhelming firepower suited him just fine.
"Why bother with genius-level strategy when you can just nuke your problems into dust? Simpler is better."
He pulled out another vial of the body-enhancement potion.
Sensing his intent, Andros quickly stopped him. "You've still got residual effects from the last dose. You need to wait at least a week to let your body process it properly."
"…Fine," Tom sighed and reluctantly stashed the potion away.
He mentally took stock of his materials. He wasn't missing much—most ingredients he either already had or could find in the Forbidden Forest or buy in Diagon Alley.
Except for two key ingredients: sphinx's eye and dragonblood. He was out of both.
He still had six vials of potion left. If he used one per week, they'd last him until Christmas break.
According to Andros, he'd need to go through twenty to thirty vials before the effects would taper off, so he still had a long way to go.
When it came to rare ingredients, Tom's first thought was to hit up his Head of House… but he quickly dismissed the idea.
It wasn't that he couldn't bring himself to do it—he had already taken all of Snape's previous stock. There might still be a secret stash somewhere, but let's be real—Snape wasn't an idiot. He'd probably locked it up or enchanted the shelf to restock itself only when he was watching.
"Better to wait for the Christmas holidays and hunt for supplies in Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley."
Tom cleaned up the cauldrons and scales scattered on the forest floor and left the Forbidden Forest in high spirits.
His body felt amazing—never better—but he was starving. He could probably chase down a cow and bite it raw if given the chance.
He ate a meal that was nearly one and a half times his normal portion, then headed straight for the Room of Requirement.
Normally, he trained with Hermione and Daphne every Saturday morning, but because of today's Quidditch match, they'd pushed it to the afternoon.
When he entered the room, the two girls were deep in conversation. Hermione looked agitated, and Daphne didn't seem much better—she looked downright furious.
"No way. Absolutely not!"
"But we saw it. He's the most suspicious one!"
"…Who are you talking about?" Tom walked over calmly.
"Tom, you got here just in time," Daphne said, storming up to him, visibly upset. "Hermione actually thinks Professor Snape was using magic to mess with Potter's broomstick!"
"I really did see it!" Hermione defended herself quickly. "Snape was staring at Harry's broom, muttering something the whole time. But as soon as Professor Quirrell got knocked over, he stopped—and Harry regained control and caught the Snitch."
"I see…" Tom nodded thoughtfully.
Just when Hermione thought he believed her, Tom said, "Well, by your logic, I saw Quirrell doing the exact same thing. And the second he got hit by the Bludger, Harry's broom stopped going wild. Doesn't that make him just as suspicious?"
"…Quirrell?" Hermione blinked in shock. Even Daphne's jaw dropped.
Quirrell? Did he even have that kind of magical power?
"If Quirrell really was behind it," Hermione countered, "why would he want to hurt Harry?"
Tom shrugged. "No idea. And honestly, I don't care. What I do care about is training. Enough of this murder mystery nonsense—get back to practicing the Shield Charm. It's way more important than guessing who the villain is."
Seeing Daphne already holding her wand, Hermione gave in and set aside her thoughts to focus on practice.
"Protego." "Protego."
...
Later, after training, they returned to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione repeated Tom's explanation to Harry.
Harry immediately shook his head. "There's no way it was Professor Quirrell."
"I mean, sure, Quirrell's not exactly the strongest wizard around, but he's never had a problem with me. He's got no reason to go after me."
Then, instead of arguing, Harry tried to comfort Hermione. "I get where Tom's coming from. No one wants to think their Head of House could be a bad guy."
"Still," he added, "I'm more worried about whatever's being kept on the third floor. Hey, Hermione, have you ever heard of someone named Nicolas Flamel?"
Harry's curiosity was at an all-time high. What kind of object was important enough for Dumbledore himself to guard it?
Hermione frowned. She'd read a lot, but she couldn't recall ever seeing that name.
— — —
"Nicolas Flamel? Sure, I know who he is."
The next day in the courtyard, Tom answered casually when Hermione asked. "He's basically a legend in alchemy—like a historical milestone. He and Dumbledore even discovered the thirteenth use of dragonblood together. But his biggest claim to fame is creating the Philosopher's Stone. With it, you can make the Elixir of Life and even create gold."
"He's over six hundred and sixty years old now."
"Elixir of Life?" Hermione and Daphne both looked stunned.
"Well, that term is kinda misleading," Tom clarified. "It does make you live forever… but you don't stay young. After six centuries, Flamel and his wife are basically walking corpses. A strong gust of wind could probably snap their bones."
"…Oh." Daphne instantly lost interest.
No matter how old a girl is, the first thing she'll care about is her looks. If the stone let you stay beautiful forever, Daphne might've been all over it.
But turning into a living fossil and staying that way? She'd rather die now than go through that torture.
Seeing Daphne's reaction, Hermione quickly added, "But the ability to make gold is amazing too! You'd never have to worry about money again."
"Eh… gold's not that rare," Daphne said with a shrug. "My family owns a few gold mines. We're doing fine."
Tom felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He couldn't handle rich-girl-level flexing like this. All he could do now was quietly chew on his humble pie.
Suddenly, Daphne's eyes lit up. She jumped to her feet so fast she startled Hermione.
She didn't bother explaining. Instead, she grabbed Tom by the shoulders and asked urgently:
"Can the Philosopher's Stone cure diseases too?"
.
.
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