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Chapter 11: Two Choices
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 01:33:07 +0000 UTCChapter 11: Two Choices
Sean had initially assumed that brewing a potion would be a relatively simple affair. After all, it followed a strict, step-by-step procedure.
He could not have been more wrong.
He knew he was supposed to stew the dried nettles and the crushed snake fangs together in the cauldron, and then add the porcupine quills after extinguishing the flame. But that was merely a summary. When it came to the actual practice, a hundred different questions arose.
How finely, exactly, should the snake fangs be crushed? How long should one wait after taking the cauldron off the fire before adding the quills? How much force should be used when stirring? In what pattern? At what point in the process?
The textbook was completely silent on these details, and Professor Snape hadn't offered a single word of clarification. Sean suspected these were things most young wizards simply knew, guided by an instinct he clearly lacked. It was a fundamental, intuitive understanding of magic, the same kind of feeling he'd only begun to develop for Charms after hundreds of failed attempts.
Because it was common knowledge, or at least something easily intuited by the magically gifted, no one bothered to teach it. And a Potions Master like Snape had likely never even considered that such basic concepts would need explaining.
But I'm a dunderhead, Sean thought with an internal sigh, so these basic problems become my personal Everest.
His theory was proven correct a moment later. After he had followed the textbook's instructions with painstaking precision, relying on what little instinct he could muster, the cauldron began to bubble. Before his own look of grim expectation and Justin's utter confusion, the potion turned a bright, vibrant blue.
"I don't think… that's the right colour for a Boil-Cure Potion," Justin said, scratching his head in disbelief.
As the blue liquid thickened, so too did the foul expression on Professor Snape's face.
"Imbeciles!" he snarled, striding towards their desk, his robes carving a sharp, menacing arc through the air. "I imagine that in addition to your stirring and your heating, your ingredient preparation was also an unmitigated disaster."
With a flick of his wand, Snape conjured a stool and sat down with a severe grace. His black eyes were locked on the blue potion. After observing it for only a few seconds, a cold sneer spread across his face.
"A foolish choice of porcupine quills, a troll's selection of nettles, and a truly catastrophic choice of snake fangs. You actually used fangs from a non-venomous snake?! Two dunderheads worthy of being stuffed and mounted on my office wall!"
He roared the last words, then with another wave of his wand, the contents of their cauldron vanished. "You should consider yourselves lucky you didn't deviate from the procedure itself. If you had, you would have learned the true price of foolishness in my classroom!"
His voice was as chilling as the dungeon's drafts. "One point from each of you."
Justin had known they were in trouble the moment Snape approached, but the sheer density of the insults still made his face burn with shame. The light in Sean's large eyes seemed to dim. Just as with Charms, he had absolutely no innate feel for the art of Potion-making.
He had a pretty good idea what his talent grade was for this subject.
Even after the class had ended, the students leaving the dungeon spoke in hushed tones, the shadow of Potions class still looming over them.
"Don't worry, Sean," Justin said, his voice quiet as he tried to encourage both his friend and himself. "We'll earn those points back."
"Mm," Sean replied. He appeared dazed, but inwardly, his mind was already calm and clear. If he allowed himself to be stopped by difficulty, failure, or the scorn of others, he would never have even mastered the Levitation Charm.
His apparent distraction was actually intense concentration. He was dissecting Snape's words.
Improper heating… incorrect stirring… problematic ingredient selection…
These were the fundamentals of brewing, and they were the very problems he now faced. As he saw it, two paths lay before him.
The first was the brute-force method he had used for Charms: mindlessly brew the potion again and again, relying on sheer luck and countless failures to slowly accumulate experience. He rejected this path almost immediately. Potions were not like Charms. It was not a safe branch of magic. The ingredients and the brewing process itself were often dangerous and volatile. A single misstep could result in a cloud of poison gas or a minor explosion. Trying to learn through pure trial and error was tantamount to gambling with his life.
That left only the second path.
He had to understand the theory of Potion-making as quickly as possible. He had to solve all the potential problems—the heating, the stirring, the ingredients—before he even began. Only then could he start practicing to gain proficiency with the Panel and, eventually, unlock the title that would improve his talent.
This path was far more difficult and complex than the first, but it was the only one that was truly viable. And he knew that as soon as he achieved that first, single correct practice, his progress would accelerate exponentially.
"One problem at a time," Sean whispered to himself. "But I have to be fast. Potions isn't the only subject at Hogwarts."
At lunch, the long tables in the Great Hall were once again laden with a magnificent feast: roast turkey, chipolatas, buttered peas, gravy, cranberry sauce, and a variety of sandwiches and pies.
His abysmal talent and Professor Snape's venomous tongue had done nothing to dampen Sean's appetite.
Merlin's beard… this is delicious.
He ate with swift, elegant efficiency. It had been six months since he'd last eaten a truly full meal. Even at the welcome banquet, he'd only managed to eat until he was about seventy percent full. The orphanage, unable to increase its income, had resorted to cutting costs wherever possible. Matron Anna had once famously proposed a theory that children only needed one meal per day. Sean remembered the gnawing pain of hunger, the burn of stomach acid in the middle of the night. At his most desperate, he had started eyeing the stray dogs near the orphanage gates as a potential emergency food source.
"Hermione! Over here!" Justin called out, waving to the bushy-haired girl, who was looking for a quiet corner to sit in. She hurried over, her face slightly pink.
"You're too loud!" she hissed at Justin.
"Sorry," he grinned, his dimples showing. "I was afraid you wouldn't hear me."
"Our first class this afternoon is Herbology," she began, speaking at a rapid-fire pace. "I noticed it appears on our timetable more than any other subject. I'm guessing that means it won't be easy, so I've re-read the textbook again. I hope that helps. Oh, and I heard you two had Potions…"
"Herbology sounds brilliant," Justin replied, listening intently. "Do you think we'll get to see all sorts of magical plants? As for Potions, well, I have to say…"
The two of them were soon lost in an animated discussion. Their voices began to fade into the background as Sean, a thoughtful expression on his face, pulled out his own timetable.
Wednesday Morning: Herbology
Wednesday Afternoon: Herbology
Friday Afternoon: Herbology
She was right. It was the most frequent class on his schedule. The course arrangements at Hogwarts had to be deliberate. There had to be a reason for so much Herbology.
What was it?
"…a disastrous choice of ingredients… your ingredient preparation was also a disaster…"
Snape's words echoed in his mind. He pieced it together in a matter of seconds.
Herbology taught witches and wizards how to handle magical plants. And by extension, how to identify and prepare all manner of magical ingredients.
Ingredient preparation was the very first step in Potion-making.
The conclusion was inescapable. To learn Potions, one must first master Herbology.
