Chapter 63: Swelling Solution
The Swelling Solution, as its name suggests, causes part of an object to swell.
Shawn was not sure where it was most often used; he only knew that, like most potions, a mistake in brewing or misuse could lead to serious consequences.
For example, during a second-year lesson, Harry threw a firework into Goyle's cauldron to create a distraction. Wherever the potion splashed, arms, noses, and eyes all puffed up grotesquely.
So Shawn watched every motion Professor Snape made with care, while the Quick-Quotes Quill beside him scratched brisk notes.
Grind two scoops of dried nettles; grind three pufferfish eyes; add two measures of the combined powder to the cauldron; heat for twenty seconds; wave your wand...
Professor Snape's instructions often did not follow the textbook; in several places, he made extensive changes. If any young wizard dared drift for a moment and follow the book instead, an accident would be very likely.
Perhaps that was one reason Professor Snape was so severe, even intimidating, with his students.
"If your empty heads have finally taken on a bit of knowledge," Snape said, flicking his wand so the finished potion decanted neatly into crystal vials, "then pair up and begin."
The classroom filled with clinking and clattering as the first-years, shivering, began to brew.
After a while, they reached the final stage.
"...prepare the last ingredient and brew until a white foam forms across the surface..." Justin read from the notes, even more nervous than Shawn, who was stirring.
Snape was still patrolling to prevent further incidents. When he reached Shawn and Justin, his footsteps paused. He glanced at the notes lying open on the bench.
Ha. Detailed enough, he thought. Barely scraping the passing line.
"Oh, Shawn, why is our foam blue?" Justin asked just then.
A dark cloud loomed beside him, making his already tense shoulders tremble.
Shawn turned and answered calmly, the words making Justin's vision go black for an instant. "We failed."
Justin did not dare look up, as if bracing for the inevitable.
"Redo it. Two fools!" Snape roared, right on cue.
Hearing that no points were deducted, Justin let out a breath. "You look pale. Want a rest? I'll handle it."
After Snape moved on, Justin took over all the brewing. He carefully prepared each ingredient.
Shawn was indeed pale. He had underestimated the physical cost of the potion ritual and will-guidance he had used last time.
Master Borage's ritual was like overdrawing a wizard's magical strength. It could buy a brief surge of performance for a single brew, but it also left a period of weakness.
Like now. He could clearly tell that the problem in the final phase lay in the insufficiency of his magical output.
Breathing hard, he noticed a few berry sweets placed on the table.
"Take a breather? Have something. New flavor. They're berries from the Scottish Highlands," Justin said while keeping the cauldron at a steady bubble.
Shawn nodded. Quietly gauging his condition, he decided he could still manage a few spells, but for potion-brewing, he was spent.
Which meant potion-making demanded more of a wizard's magical reserves and mental will than he had assumed.
No wonder there were so few true potions masters.
At the same time, Shawn realized just how powerful the combined effect of the wand and spell could be.
He could cast three or four Levitation Charms now, and their effect would match, if not exceed, a potion meant to make things float. But if he had to brew a potion with that same strength now, he might collapse on the spot.
While he thought this through and quietly fed Justin brewing reminders from the notes, Snape swept in like a storm, class roster in hand.
"Susan Bones. Lisa Turpin. Ha. Troll-level ingredient prep. I would wager you never brought the pufferfish eyes to standard," he said, sneering at the two girls whose potion had turned to paste. "One point off each. And what are you waiting for? For the potion to brew itself?"
As Susan hunched, on the verge of tears, he had already moved on.
"Ernie Macmillan—stir right one more time and get out. At least then the potion will not explode on its own. Two points off."
Ernie stopped at once, whipped out his book, and nearly pressed his eyes to the page.
"Marginally acceptable. Michael Corner, waiting for what exactly? For the potion to spoil?"
He became a relentless point-docking machine, the air around him practically sprouting hovering minus ones and minus twos.
So Shawn and Justin simply watched him arrive at their bench.
Just as they braced for the gale, Snape paused and moved on without a word.
"Whoof," Justin breathed out.
Shawn only stared down at the crystal vial that had suddenly appeared in his hand.
Inside was a clear liquid. The only annotation read: Drink.
...
Even after leaving the dungeon, Shawn was still a bit dazed. The potion Snape had slipped him had just one function: to restore vitality.
It resembled a general tonic, but it was remarkably effective at restoring magical stamina.
The moment he drank it, Shawn felt his magic rebound, and even the climb up the stairs felt easier.
Back in the dungeon, Severus Snape stood a long time before the cauldron of failed potion, failed for lack of sufficient magical force.
On the roster in his hand, a faint line showed through:
"Shawn Green. Guardian: None."
...
The Great Hall.
It pulsed with noise and life.
The four House tables were laden with lunch. Golden plates and goblets shimmered beneath a thousand candles.
Students chattered away as they ate porridge, bacon, and pumpkin juice.
"Shawn, my mother always says the sunrise is free, the sunset too," Justin said, spearing a pudding before lowering his voice. "So if you're tired, rest."
His pale gray eyes shone with sincerity.
Shawn nodded silently.
Until—
"Eyes of the rabbit, a harp's lilting tune, turn this water into wine!"
Shawn blinked and turned. Seamus sat beside him.