“Potions are virtually equivalent to charms.”
This was Vaughn’s core philosophy, which he had compiled into a paper at the age of ten and published in *Extraordinary Potions*, the journal of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers.
It was also the source of the constant controversy surrounding him.
Potions was a relatively independent discipline.
In the eyes of many potioneers, only the fragrance rising from a steaming cauldron could truly represent the mysterious and all-powerful nature of magic.
So long as they carried enough potions, they didn’t need to engage in the “silly waving of wands” or cast a bunch of “flashy charms” to easily accomplish all sorts of tasks.
Not to mention, many illnesses and curse-induced injuries could only be cured by potions.
This allowed them to look down haughtily on other disciplines.
Vaughn’s assertion had clearly violated their taboos.
Among those people, it wasn’t necessarily that everyone disagreed with his views, but rather that most simply didn’t want to see change.
Some of them were old fogeys drunk on past glory, some were vested interests (the more mysterious potions remained, the easier they were to monopolize), and some were just plain idiots!
That last evaluation was something Professor Snape had actually said in the newspapers at the time.
The concept Vaughn championed in his paper was simple: allow magic to play a greater, more active role in the brewing process, much like casting a spell.
Like right now.
As he sprinkled crushed snake fangs into the cauldron, Vaughn drew his wand and tapped it gently against the rim.
A subtle wisp of magic permeated the liquid.
Beside him, Hermione watched with wide eyes, but magic was invisible to the naked eye; she could only see the snake fang powder falling into the potion.
“Snake fangs are the primary ingredient.
Their role in the recipe is to absorb toxins, but remember, the fang itself doesn’t possess this function in its raw form; we only need its essence.”
As Vaughn whispered, a few specks of faint luminescence seeped out of the powder, while the once-floating sediment sank to the bottom of the cauldron.
“Once the toxin absorption is handled, the next step is the curative treatment.
For a simple ailment like boils, horned slugs and dried nettles will do.
Horned slugs are typically used to heal wounds, while dried nettles neutralize the absorbed toxins.”
His wand continued to tap gently on the cauldron.
As the ingredients were added, more currents carrying a faint luminescence appeared in the liquid, glowing with a soft pink hue.
Hermione cradled her book, her mouth slightly agape as she watched the display with rapt attention.
“Is this…” she whispered.
“Yes, the properties of the ingredients, Hermione.” Vaughn nodded, explaining, “I used my magic to extract them and make them visible to you.
In the traditional recipe for the Cure for Boils, the final step of adding porcupine quills is solely to extract these properties; the quills themselves don’t participate in the healing process.
Therefore, my magic bypasses that step entirely!”
Saying this, Vaughn turned off the heat beneath the cauldron and stirred clockwise five times.
“Five stirs, no more, no less.
This is the other key point I mentioned earlier: ritual!
Numbers hold magical significance in this recipe’s ritual.
Watch—”
Hermione focused her gaze.
Inside the cauldron, the liquid, which had been distinctly layered and mottled with various colors, began to swirl under the influence of the five stirs and a wave of Vaughn’s wand.
It spun faster and faster until it suddenly transformed into a bright, clear blue potion, sparkling and entirely free of impurities.
It looked even better than the finished product pictured in the textbook!
Before she could express her amazement, Snape glided over like a giant bat.
He leaned over to inspect the potion in the cauldron, a rare flash of surprise appearing in his dark, lifeless eyes.
He couldn’t resist dipping a finger in, bringing it to his nose to sniff, and then looked at Vaughn.
“None of the pungent odor of porcupine quills…
You modified it?”
Vaughn nodded.
“Yes, Professor.”
“Using the magical extraction method you proposed last year?”
Vaughn smiled.
“Yes, though for now, it can only be applied to simple potions like this.
The more advanced the potion, the more complex and demanding the properties of the ingredients become.
It takes a massive amount of time to understand, experiment, and find the right knack.
“But I believe it has great merit.
Traditional recipes usually require one or even several extra ingredients in the final step just to extract properties.
These inevitably affect the efficacy of the potion, and some are even toxic.
Although side effects and toxicity are tolerated for the sake of a successful brew, it’s certainly better to do without them, isn’t it?”
Snape remained silent and didn’t say anything more.
Only when he turned to leave did the class hear him speak: “Ten points to Slytherin.
Vaughn Weasley, Granger, go help our dear Longbottom and Finnigan.
I suspect they were sired by trolls…
Ron Weasley, what are you gaping at?
Why don’t you learn a thing or two from your brother?”
Harry heard Ron mutter beside him, “I don’t want to learn a thing from him!”
Harry kept quiet.
After a moment, he whispered, “Next Potions class, I want to partner with Vaughn.”
Ron glared at him.
“Traitor!”
On the other side of the room, Vaughn and Hermione walked over to Neville and Seamus’s desk, just as their dear Professor Snape had commanded.
Neville was on the verge of tears.
He had spent the entire lesson being so thoroughly torn down by Snape that he was questioning his very existence, and he had lost five points to boot.
This made him feel deeply ashamed.
“I’m sorry, Vaughn.
I’m just too stupid.
I can never remember things.”
“It’s alright, Neville.
Just follow the book and don’t panic.”
Perhaps because Vaughn had helped him before, Neville trusted him implicitly, even if Vaughn was a Slytherin.
This chubby, sweet-tempered boy might have a terrible memory and a tendency to cry, but he was actually very honest and obedient.
At least when dealing with Vaughn, whom he trusted, he did exactly as he was told, following every instruction to the letter.
Seamus, on the other side, was a bit more mischievous—or perhaps he truly possessed some sort of hidden talent for disaster.
Even with Hermione watching him like a hawk, he still nearly caused an accident during the final step, when it was time to add the porcupine quills.
He tried to toss a handful of porcupine quills into the cauldron without turning off the fire.
Fortunately, Vaughn, who had been keeping an eye on him, quickly cast the Levitation Charm to intercept the quills in midair.
Otherwise, the classroom would have faced an absolute catastrophe.
Porcupine quills added while a cauldron was still heating would melt the potion into a highly corrosive liquid and trigger a violent explosion.
This only made Professor Snape dislike Gryffindor even more, and he took the opportunity to dock another handful of points.
By the time class ended and they were on their way back to Gryffindor, Seamus was still defending himself to Hermione.
“…I was just too nervous!
Snape kept looming over me, the pressure was immense!”
Hermione’s face was set in a stern expression, her voice crisp and sharp.
“Then why didn’t you pay more attention?
The professor didn’t force you to leave the fire on!”
Feeling humiliated, Seamus grew angry and ignored her.
Ron, who had been watching the drama unfold, turned to Harry.
“She’s far too uptight.
She always makes people look bad.”
Seeing Hermione approaching, Harry hurriedly changed the subject.
“Tomorrow’s the weekend.
Why don’t we go visit Hagrid?”
Hagrid had sent him a note today, inviting him to drop by his cabin.
But Ron completely missed the hint.
“Sounds great.
But we’d better not bring her.
I really don’t want someone buzzing in my ear the whole time, telling me ‘you did this wrong, you did that wrong’…”
Hermione pursed her lips in a manner that instantly reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall.
Veering sharply, she stomped past the two boys, her shoulder clipping Ron and sending him stumbling.
Watching the girl’s retreating back, Harry sighed.
“Ron, you shouldn’t have said that about her.”
Knowing he was in the wrong, Ron only grunted twice in response.