Hermione lowered her hand as well, her brows knitting tightly.
This question went far beyond the first chapter of Magical Drafts and Potions.
It concerned the treatment of a potion ingredient’s properties on a microscopic level.
Beside Morrin, Malfoy watched him nervously, terrified that Morrin might fail to answer and cost Slytherin points.
Morrin, however, smiled.
Before yesterday, he might only have been able to answer by relying on his eidetic memory and reciting something he had read.
But now, he possessed [Origin of Alchemy].
To Morrin, this was no longer a question of herbology.
It was a question of chemical reactions.
“Because the water would dilute the concentration of magic, Professor,” Morrin answered calmly, his voice clear and steady.
“Asphodel root contains a paralytic compound called asphodeline.
The active water molecules in fresh asphodel juice react strongly with the thujone in an infusion of wormwood, producing a neutralising reaction.
The result shifts from ‘deep sleep’ to ‘permanent brain death’.” Morrin rose and picked up a dried asphodel root from the desk.
An almost imperceptible glimmer of magic flickered around his fingertips.
“Using the powdered root is essentially a process of dehydration and purification.
One of the fundamental principles of alchemy: Spiritual Fixation.” “Only after the excess water and impurities have been removed can the soporific properties of the asphodel be fully activated by the wormwood, producing the necessary equilibrium between life and death.” Morrin looked up at Snape.
“Am I correct, Professor?” The classroom was utterly silent.
Hermione’s mouth had fallen open.
Her quill was already moving furiously across the parchment.
Ron stared at Morrin as though he were some sort of monster.
For the first time, the perpetually expressionless face of Severus Snape showed the faintest disturbance.
He stared deeply at Morrin, those black eyes seeming intent on piercing straight through his soul.
“An alchemical perspective…” Snape murmured.
“Spiritual Fixation…
That theory dates back to Nicolas Flamel’s era.” He fell silent for a moment.
Then he turned and swept back towards his desk, black robes billowing behind him.
“Five points to Slytherin,” Snape said coldly.
“For an…
unusually precise answer that addresses the underlying principle.” Malfoy released the breath he had been holding, immediately looking rather smug.
“Now.” Snape flicked his wand, and instructions appeared across the blackboard.
“Pairs.
You will brew a Cure for Boils.
Begin.” Naturally, Morrin paired with Malfoy.
In practice, however, it was almost entirely a one man performance.
Malfoy’s role consisted of slicing caterpillars and occasionally handing Morrin a stirring rod.
Morrin stood before the cauldron, his gaze utterly focused.
The temptation of [Potions Grandmaster] was standing only a few metres away.
He needed to demonstrate enough value.
Under the influence of [Origin of Alchemy], the simple Cure for Boils before him broke apart into countless shifting elemental symbols.
“Four turns clockwise, half a turn anticlockwise…
No.” Morrin frowned at the textbook.
“Far too inefficient.” This antiquated stirring method exists to prevent the powdered snake fangs from settling.
But if I heat the powder to eighty degrees first and make use of thermal convection…
Morrin altered the procedure on his own initiative.
Instead of following the textbook instruction to remove the cauldron from the fire before adding the porcupine quills, he tapped the rim three times with his wand.
Using carefully controlled vibrations, he forced the potion to cool almost instantly.
Then he tossed in the porcupine quills.
“What are you doing?!” Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin.
“The book says take it off the fire first!
It’ll explode!” “That is a safety guide written for mediocrities,” Morrin replied calmly.
“Watch carefully, Draco.” He glanced at the cauldron.
“This is efficiency.” The porcupine quills fell into the mixture.
There was no eruption of the usual acrid green smoke.
Instead, a faint pink vapour rose from the cauldron, and the potion immediately settled into a perfect shade of blue.
No explosion.
The unusual vapour caught Snape’s attention as he prowled between the desks.
He strode over, looked into Morrin’s cauldron, then at the flame still burning beneath it.
“You altered the procedure.” There was no telling from Snape’s voice whether he was angry or intrigued.
“Yes, Professor,” Morrin admitted without hesitation.
“Using an Oscillation Cooling Method eliminates three minutes of waiting.
It also increases the potion’s efficacy by approximately fifteen per cent.” Morrin dipped a glass rod into the potion and allowed a single drop to fall onto a piece of diseased flesh lying on the desk.
The boils vanished instantly.
Not even a scar remained.
“Perfect colour and consistency.” Snape narrowed his eyes at the eleven year old student.
Never before had he seen this degree of confidence and technical skill in a first-year.
The boy’s command over a potion reminded Snape somewhat of himself at the same age.
Except…
Morrin was somehow even more arrogant.
“Although your result is satisfactory, White,” Snape said icily, “arrogance in potion making generally ends in death.
If I ever see you disregarding the prescribed procedure again—” “What if I can reduce the cost of this potion by thirty per cent and sell it to St Mungo’s?” Snape stopped.
“What did you say?” “I’m calculating, Professor.” Morrin pointed towards the cauldron.
“The ingredients for this batch cost approximately three Sickles.
If my improved method were adopted for large scale production, the cost per bottle could be reduced to two.” He continued as calmly as if presenting a quarterly report.
“Madam Pomfrey currently pays eight Sickles per bottle to outside suppliers.” Morrin raised his head.
Pure commercial enthusiasm shone in his black eyes.
“If we were to collaborate, Professor, you could provide technical support for further improvements to the formula, while I handle production and distribution.
The profit margin—” “Shut up.” The corner of Snape’s mouth twitched.
Whether the greasy commercial proposal had offended him or whether he simply could not comprehend having this sort of conversation with an eleven year old student was impossible to tell.
“Another five points to Slytherin.” Snape spun away, his robes snapping behind him in an angry arc.
“For your nauseating…
commercial instincts.” He took another two steps before stopping.
“And White.” Morrin looked up.
“After class, you will submit a detailed report on this so called Oscillation Cooling Method.” Snape’s black eyes narrowed.
“If I find so much as a misplaced punctuation mark, you will serve detention.” Morrin smiled as he watched Snape stalk away.
He knew he had succeeded.
Not only had he firmly established himself within Slytherin, he had also obtained his first ticket through the door with the most difficult professor at Hogwarts.
Just then— BANG!
An explosion came from the back of the classroom.
Neville Longbottom’s cauldron had erupted, splashing green potion everywhere.
“Idiot!” Snape roared as he charged towards them.
“Potter!
Why didn’t you tell him not to add the porcupine quills while the cauldron was still over the fire?” “Did you think allowing him to make a mistake would make you look better?” “One point from Gryffindor!” Harry looked deeply aggrieved and opened his mouth to protest.
Morrin merely shook his head.
As he decanted his own flawless blue potion into a bottle, he turned towards Malfoy.
“You see, Draco?
This is why one must control the core technology.” He stoppered the bottle.
“Otherwise, not only will you end up paying for someone else’s mistakes, you may even be penalised for reasons that have nothing to do with you.” Malfoy nodded, only half understanding.
But as he stared at the perfect blue potion in Morrin’s hand, something new appeared in his eyes.
Genuine admiration.
“Teach me,” Malfoy suddenly muttered.
Morrin looked over.
“What?” “The Oscillation Cooling Method.” Malfoy bit his lip.
“And…
how to make money.” Morrin’s smile widened.
“Of course, my friend.” He gave Malfoy a companionable pat on the shoulder.
“But you know the rules.
Knowledge may be priceless—” Morrin’s smile became thoroughly capitalist.
“—but lessons are not free.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Hidden_Quill Thank you so much for reading!