Chapter 24 — A Measured Hand
The parchment smelled faintly of Burrow hearth smoke — a detail that irritated Severus Snape more than it ought to. He adjusted the book on his desk, the scratch of his quill momentarily silenced as he began reading on.
The eagle owl clicked its beak softly in the corner. Snape ignored it.
Chapter 2: The Discipline of Measurement
The difference between precision and approximation is the difference between potion and poison. While experienced brewers may "eyeball" quantities, apprentices must never do so. Every measure must be deliberate.
Tools:
• Scales must be regularly balanced. A one-gram deviation may spoil a mixture.
• Knives must be sharpened for clean cuts; ragged edges waste potency.
• Mortars and pestles must be clean and dry before each use.
Measurement is more than weight. The form of the ingredient matters. A shrivelfig sliced thinly exposes more surface to reaction than one roughly chopped.
Exercise 2: Grind dried dittany leaves into powder, weigh precisely one gram, and compare the result to two grams in a simple infusion. Observe the difference in potency.
Warning: A careless extra gram of sopophorous bean can induce weeks of unwanted sleep.
Snape's mouth twisted into something like amusement. "At least the boy understands the value of exactitude," he murmured, though his voice carried no warmth. His mind wandered briefly to Lucian Selwyn, whose arrogant measurements and dramatic flair for cauldron work often resulted in minor explosions and endless complaints, convinced that his pureblood heritage alone excused any mishaps.
Still, the phrasing struck him: "The difference between potion and poison." That was a line he himself might have said to first-years.
He turned the page.
Chapter 3: The Role of Heat and Timing
Heat is not merely to boil water. It directs the pace of magical reactions, much like tempo in music. A potion brewed too quickly may collapse in on itself; one brewed too slowly may stagnate and lose potency.
Temperature must be carefully judged. A flame too high scorches volatile ingredients. A flame too low fails to activate magical compounds.
Timing, too, is critical. Stirring, adding ingredients, and cooling must all follow precise intervals. Even a delay of a few seconds can shift the nature of a potion.
Exercise 3: Brew a simple Pepperup draft infusion with varied flame heights. Record how the steam differs in color and scent.
Warning: Never leave a potion unattended. Cauldrons are loyal only to vigilance.
Case Study: In 1962, a third-year student left a Calming Draught simmering while running to Quidditch practice. The result was a room filled with choking fumes that induced fainting fits for three hours.
Snape's eyes narrowed. He remembered that one as well — though he'd been younger at the time, he recalled the complaints from the hospital wing.
But his brow furrowed. The language — it was simple, but striking. "Cauldrons are loyal only to vigilance."
The boy was writing in maxims. Not the empty bravado of a child, but in earnest attempts to teach.
"Presumptuous," Snape muttered, though his eyes lingered longer than he intended on the neat lines.
He read on.
Chapter 4: Stirring and Magical Polarity
Stirring is not a mechanical act; it directs the magical flow within the cauldron. Clockwise motions generally harmonize ingredients; counter-clockwise motions disrupt or invert effects.
The speed of stirring influences outcome. A slow, steady rhythm encourages stability. Rapid stirring amplifies volatility.
Consistency is paramount. A single irregular motion can undo an entire brew.
Exercise 4: Prepare a cauldron of plain water with powdered sage. Stir clockwise seven times, then counter-clockwise seven times. Observe the difference in scent and clarity.
Warning: Do not confuse clockwise with counter-clockwise. Several potion accidents trace back to reversed polarity.
Case Study: In 1974, a second-year reversed the polarity of a Sleeping Draught. The result was a stimulant brew that caused dangerous exhaustion when it wore off.
Snape stopped. His hand lingered above the parchment. He inhaled through his nose, long and sharp. That incident — the stimulant brew — had been notorious. He had studied the accident report himself as a student.
His jaw tightened. How had a Weasley boy — nine years old at most — collated such details?
He glanced toward the owl again. Its golden eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dungeon firelight, as if waiting for his verdict.
Snape exhaled. "Diligence," he muttered. "The brat has done his reading, at least. Though whether he truly understands what he parrots…"
He rubbed his temple, then leaned back, fingers steepled. He loathed the stirrings of reluctant acknowledgment in his chest.
But the words would not leave his mind. "A potion is not a stew." "Cauldrons are loyal only to vigilance."
The boy wrote with the conviction of someone who had studied deeply — and believed what he wrote.
Snape turned to the next chapter, his skepticism sharpening like a blade. If there were flaws, he would find them. He would prove that this book was more enthusiasm than mastery.
And yet, a small, unwelcome flicker of curiosity burned brighter.