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Chapter 95: A World of Genius
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 02:24:22 +0000 UTCChapter 95: A World of Genius
Sean felt he knew Hogwarts Castle better with each passing day. He could probably navigate to the dungeons blindfolded, guided by memory and the subtle drop in temperature. The glass-fronted cabinets filled with ingredients felt like his own personal pantry; he could now recall the precise location of most common potion components.
He had already filled an entire notebook with brewing data, forcing him to transfer Libatius Borage's precious notes into a new one.
It sometimes struck Sean that the transmission of magical knowledge was strangely fragmented. Harry's Potions skill had skyrocketed after finding the Half-Blood Prince's notebook, allowing him to surpass even the hardworking Hermione. Sean was experiencing the same phenomenon; Borage's modified rituals, combined with the willpower-channeling techniques, had allowed him to brew an 'Adept' level Deflating Draught on his first try. Under normal circumstances, it would take an average wizard a year or two of diligent study to reach that level.
This exposed a significant issue: in many areas, magic wasn't necessarily advancing.
Overall, of course, the wizarding world progressed. Dumbledore's discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood was a monumental achievement. The Wolfsbane Potion was a clear breakthrough. In Alchemy, the Weasley twins would go on to invent countless marvels. Flying broomsticks were undeniably becoming faster and more sophisticated. The wizarding world even adopted Muggle technology when it suited them – the Knight Bus, the Hogwarts Express, cameras, newspapers, and the Wizarding Wireless were all far beyond medieval standards.
But the progress felt... slow. Stagnant. DumbledDore's work on dragon's blood was one of the century's greatest discoveries. Snape, considered an innovator, was noted for improvements like crushing ingredients with a silver knife or stirring counter-clockwise. Furthermore, Sean realized there had been a profound lack of new spell creation. The only modern, original incantation he could recall was Snape's Sectumsempra.
Perhaps most telling was the fact that the Hogwarts textbooks hadn't been updated in forty years. Sean was using the exact same books Snape had used as a student. Four decades with no new editions, no revised knowledge – it was unthinkable in the Muggle world.
All this led Sean to one conclusion: true magical breakthroughs were almost exclusively the domain of singular, transcendent talents. Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall. This seemed to be a historical constant. Borage's discoveries alone had been enough to propel the entire field of Potion-making forward by a century.
Therefore, the most efficient path to magical mastery was to identify these exceptional individuals and learn their revolutionary techniques directly.
Fortunately, Hogwarts had them in spades.
Snape was a living Potions Master, his expertise allowing him to improve upon the Advanced Potion-Making textbook.
Flitwick was a former Dueling Champion; his understanding of Charms was second to none.
McGonagall was one of only seven registered Animagi in the century; her profound knowledge of Transfiguration would be enough to keep Sean busy for all seven years.
Where else but Hogwarts could he find such a concentration of power and (relative) willingness to teach? And if he managed to stay over the summer, he could potentially receive one-on-one instruction. Professors were busy during the term; Snape, for instance, often spent Sean's brewing sessions multitasking, grading papers with a sneer while simultaneously watching Sean's cauldron from the shadows.
The steam from the cauldron pulled Sean back to the present. He was brewing the Deflating Draught, a potion he'd already reached 'Adept' level with, thanks to Borage's ritual. Days earlier, he'd read a passage in Magical Drafts and Potions:
[Extreme caution must be used with the Swelling Solution. A witch named Loria, while watering her plants with said potion, accidentally splashed herself. For six days, her neck was swollen to the size of a Quaffle. Fortunately, her mother – a novice potioneer – was able to brew a Deflating Draught, which soothed her and eased her suffering.]
Hidden in the dry text was the clue he'd been looking for. Soothed... eased... Those were the emotional keys.
The flames danced, painting flickering shadows on Sean's focused face. He held his breath, carefully adding the last spoonful of Galangal powder. The deep purple liquid instantly erupted in orange bubbles, releasing a sharp, warm scent. He moved with practiced precision, weaving Borage's ritual into the standard steps. Preparation, heat control, stirring, timing... his method was scientific, iterative. He learned from every brew, never making the same mistake twice.
From a cobweb-draped corner, Snape watched. He observed the boy's focused expression, the meticulously kept notebook, and offered the occasional cold, cutting "instruction."
Moments later, Sean felt the familiar mental shift of the ritual. He channeled the emotion he'd identified – a deep, empathetic desire to soothe and ease another's pain, imagining himself as the witch's mother, desperate to help.
Under the influence of this targeted emotion, the magical fusion changed.
Snape was at his side in an instant, his black eyes boring into the cauldron. "If your troll-like brain possesses any wisdom," he snarled, his hand already on his wand, "you would know the consequences of deviating from an established ritual!"
He was furious, vibrating with rage, but held himself back, not daring to interrupt the critical phase, his eyes fixed on the potion. Fool! Arrogant! Incorrigible!
Sean heard nothing. Aided by the ritual and his focused will, he became the healer. His magic, infused with empathy, flowed into the simmering liquid. And in that moment, he truly felt the beauty of the potion – its inherent purpose, its power to help, to heal.
He finally understood Snape's words from that very first lesson.
"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death."
Snape had been telling the absolute truth.
(End of Chapter)
