This time, Louis came to the Room of Requirement in broad daylight for one reason—to craft a magical prop.
He had already chosen the core material: a piece of magician's cloth he had brought to school but never once used.
The truth was, although sleight-of-hand tricks always relied on props to divert attention, a single illusion spell could crudely and brutally shatter all the romance and artistry of stage magic.
Distract attention? Use illusion.
Block sight? Illusion again.
Finger dexterity? Just use illusion.
In fact, with Louis's current mastery of illusions, he could directly conjure dazzling and bizarre phantasmagorias to bewilder others, pulling them straight into his illusions.
But that carried no meaning. It had nothing to do with _magic tricks_ at all. Even if such a method could earn him a mountain of Trick Points, Louis disdained it.
He still carried the pride of being a magician…
Well, truthfully—he just thought it was fun.
As for why he came to the potion-brewing chamber to make a magician's prop, that was simple: whether it was Dark Qi magic or Pure Qi magic, everything began from one great bubbling "broth."
Pure Qi magic was green. Dark Qi magic was purple-black. Dividing the schools of magic by color—very refined, very "proper."
Louis found the largest cauldron in the room—big enough, by his estimate, to stew four or five Hasturs—then pulled out from his storage space a melon rind that radiated a purple-black aura. Channeling dark energy through his hands, he squeezed it twice over the cauldron.
The seemingly shriveled rind actually yielded liquid—copious amounts of it. In no time at all, the cauldron was filled.
Of course, that water didn't truly come from the withered rind itself. It was drawn from the magic infused within it.
That melon rind was a vessel of the Water Demon's magic. By stimulating it with Dark Qi, Louis could just barely control its power to summon out some pure water.
Still, this method was terribly wasteful. Louis already had plans for how he would properly handle this demon magic later, once Hermes was sent off.
"First, let's make the soup base," Louis muttered, lighting a small cluster of Explosive Flame beneath the cauldron. The dangerously volatile heat catalyzed the reaction within.
Hermes floated nearby, overseeing the process like a supervisor.
"Bat wings… octopus tentacles… pufferfish liver…"
Louis chanted as he worked, casually retrieving ingredients from his storage—materials he had quietly swiped from the Potions classroom. After a quick bit of preparation, he tossed them straight into the cauldron.
The strange assortment of items, coupled with Louis's focused expression, made him look for all the world like some evil wizard brewing poison.
"Salamander eyes… toad skin… nettles… oh, no nettles. Guess mandrake roots will do instead."
Louis was deft at substituting materials. Even if one ingredient was missing, he could always find a suitable replacement.
These were all common potion supplies, anyway. Even if some stock ran a little low, neither Professor Snape nor Professor Sprout would notice.
Before long, under the catalysis of Dark Qi and flame, the liquid in the cauldron had turned into a pure, viscous purple-black.
At this point, the brew had reached around two hundred degrees, yet its surface was as smooth as a mirror—like a flawless sheet of violet ice, utterly unperturbed.
Still not enough?
Louis thought for a moment, then took out some of Fafnir's dried mice and tossed two in.
At once the mixture reacted, roiling violently. The liquid thickened, like molten lava or a bubbling swamp, occasionally bursting with purple-black bubbles that released ominous fumes.
Now, at last, the perfect "base broth" was complete.
This was the foundation for most Qi-based magical rituals. More specialized functions would require additional materials and spellwork.
With the first step done, Louis took his large red magician's cloth and threw it into the cauldron to simmer along with the brew.
This process would have to last at least two full days, allowing the broth's magic to transform the ordinary magician's cloth into a proper vessel for magic.
At this point, the fusion of ingredients inside the cauldron was complete. Louis dispelled the explosive flames beneath it, leaving the brew to sit quietly.
"Finished?" Hermes asked. With his different system of knowledge, he couldn't really follow Louis's potion work, so he had to confirm.
"Mm. From here, it's just a matter of time. About two days," Louis nodded.
Two days… right, he'd better tell George and Fred. It would be a good chance to check how their little "hunting" operation was going, and more importantly—when they planned on giving him the map back.
Louis stood, intending to leave with Hermes as usual, but this time Hermes spoke up.
"Leave me here. You can't let anyone else in while you're brewing anyway. I might as well stay put for two days—it suits me just fine."
"Stay here?" Louis gave him a glance.
"Sure. Don't worry, I promise not to run around," Hermes chuckled.
Louis studied him for a while, eyes narrowed in thought. To show his sincerity, Hermes widened his eyes with a look of honest earnestness.
"…Not impossible," Louis said at last. "Fine then—stay here with Hastur. It'll keep you company…"
Hermes's smile froze. "Wait, hold on, you're not trying to scare me, are you? That thing won't eat me, right?"
"Relax. You're not to its taste."
Louis beckoned with a hand, and the little cluster of Volumen Hydrargyrum drifted back into his palm, curling gently around his fingers.
"Then I'll leave this place in your care," he said, setting his top hat on. "See you in two days."
"See you in two days," Hermes replied cheerfully.
He floated in the air, watching as Louis walked to the door of the Room of Requirement. As Louis drew near, the door appeared.
Hermes didn't move.
Louis pushed it open. Hermes didn't move.
When Louis stepped outside, the door closed again. Hermes still didn't move.
Once the carved patterns on the wall faded away, Hermes floated toward where the door had been.
Nothing appeared—just a smooth, blank stretch of wall blocking his way.
"Why's that?" Hermes tilted his head, glancing at Hastur. Even the cat could activate the door, yet he couldn't.
"…Guess I'll stick with the old method."
He drifted back to the cauldron. The purple-black liquid roiled faintly, a darkened magician's cloth bobbing up and down within it.
To avoid knocking the cauldron over with what he was about to attempt—something that might arouse Louis's suspicion—he chose his position carefully.
Closing his eyes, Hermes let loose a surge of immense power from his tiny head, channeling it in a precise rhythm to resonate with the room's very core.
After all, he was Hermes, the progenitor of alchemy. A room like this? Two or three days of study and he'd have it completely unraveled.
"First, I'll split off an auxiliary sub-space. Then I can slip into it. Once anyone else uses this room, I'll have my chance to escape," Hermes muttered with a sly grin.
He knew well that Louis wasn't the only one who used this place. There was also a pair of twins. And unlike Louis, they weren't nearly as formidable.
Easy to trick. Weak in strength.
These were little details Hermes had picked up here and there, slipping questions in when Louis least noticed.
As the patron god of tricksters, he could sense the tremor of lies and sift out the truth hidden beneath layers of deception.
What truly surprised him, however, was that Louis had never lied to him—not once. That left Hermes both startled and uneasy.
Because some of the things he had asked about were clearly secrets that should never be spoken aloud. Just like the fact that Louis was a Muggle.
And knowing too many secrets… would Louis really let him walk free?
---