HP: god of potions

Chapter 105

"Look, Harry! It's your article!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. Moments later, more owls swarmed in, dropping letters on Harry. He ducked as envelopes rained down around him. "What on earth?" he muttered, bewildered. Hermione beamed. "Fan mail, Harry! Responses to the article." But their moment of triumph was interrupted by a familiar toad-like voice. "Which article is that, dear?" Umbridge asked, appearing at their table with a sickly sweet smile. She turned toward Gray and said, "And please, Mr. Knight, stop singing," startling Gray, who yelled out, "Oh, a fucking toad," audibly enough for everyone to hear. The entire hall fell silent as they stared at Gray. Umbridge was practically fuming as Gray got up and apologized, but that only made Fred and George burst into laughter.

"Enough!" Umbridge yelled at the twins before turning toward Harry, who looked at her defiantly. "I have just published an article telling the real story about what happened last June," he said. Umbridge's face turned an ugly shade of purple as she demanded the magazine. Hermione handed it to her, and Umbridge glared at it with fury. "Right, I will confiscate this. Anyone found in possession of this magazine will be expelled!" she barked, storming off. Hermione giggled triumphantly. Harry looked at her, confused. "What?" he asked. Hermione grinned. "She's done it to herself. Banning the article will only make people want to read it more!" Gray added, "Probably. It's human nature—the more you deny people something, the more they want it."

Later that night, in the Room of Requirement, Gray addressed the H.A. "We've been doing so well, I thought we'd work on some defensive blocking spells tonight," he announced. The room buzzed with energy as students waved their wands, practicing spells that flew through the air. Gray paced through the group, nonchalantly waving his staff around, offering encouragement. "That was really good," he said. Suddenly, with a loud CRACK, Dobby appeared, looking frantic as he interrupted Harry's practice with Ron. "Mr. Harry Potter!" the house-elf cried, his hands wringing in distress. Harry turned to him, alarmed. "What is it, Dobby?" he asked. Dobby clamped his hands over his mouth, his large eyes filled with fear. "She—" he began but stopped, terrified. "Who, Dobby?" Harry pressed. Dobby nodded reluctantly when Harry guessed, "Is it Umbridge?" The elf took a deep breath and blurted out, "She knows, Harry Potter. She's coming!"

Gray sighed as he tapped his staff on the ground, shifting the entire room and everyone in it, teleporting them away. He left the Room of Requirement just as Malfoy emerged from behind a statue, smirking, expecting to see someone. "Where did he go?" Malfoy muttered as he looked around, just as Umbridge hurried over, her face alight with triumph. "Where is he, Draco? Where did that Weasley run off to?" she demanded. But Gray was nowhere to be seen, and suddenly, they were pulled into an illusion. "What in the devil is this?" Draco asked, confused, as they looked around.

That was where the nightmare began. They found themselves navigating through haunted houses, deserts, harsh winters, forests, and swamps, each presenting unique challenges. They endured endless suffering before finally breaking through the illusion. "GRAY!" Umbridge yelled at the top of her lungs as Gray chuckled in the distance.

-scene change(dream)-

In the Room of Requirement, Gray, a tall and lean figure with black hair streaked with red strands running down his forehead, stood in the center of a well-lit space. The room had provided a wide array of alchemical tools, from bubbling flasks to intricate glassware, all arranged meticulously on a large table. The air was filled with a faint herbal scent, mingling with the sharp tang of powdered ingredients. Gray's sharp nose twitched as he leaned over a cauldron, his pale hands steady as he measured the powdered root of asphodel. Nearby, a magical quill hovered, scribbling notes on a parchment in midair, recording his every move as he worked.

Gray started brewing the Draught of Living Death, a potion so potent it could induce a deathlike slumber. He crushed the powdered root of asphodel into a fine dust, ensuring no clumps remained. With careful precision, he infused wormwood into a vial, its bitter aroma wafting through the room as it mixed with the bubbling liquid. Next, he added valerian roots, slicing them into fine pieces before tossing them into the cauldron, each slice sinking and dissolving into the mixture. Finally, he approached the sopophorous bean, slicing it open to extract its thick, viscous juice. He dropped the juice into the potion, watching as the liquid turned a deep, inky purple. The quill noted his every action as Gray stirred the cauldron counterclockwise seven times, his focus unbroken. After an hour of slow brewing, the potion emitted a faint silvery mist—an indication of success. Gray observed it with satisfaction, knowing he had brewed the potion perfectly.

Yet, he wasn't satisfied with perfection. Gray decided to experiment, pondering how to alter the potion's effects. He started by replacing the infusion of wormwood with powdered nightshade, hoping to enhance the potion's potency. The result was catastrophic—the cauldron emitted a foul-smelling smoke, and the liquid turned an aggressive, bubbling black. Gray sighed, his sharp features showing disappointment, but he didn't stop. He noted the failure, adjusted his approach, and replaced the nightshade with essence of hellebore, which calmed the potion but weakened its effect. Each failure chipped away at his patience, but it also fueled his determination.

With each attempt, Gray's notes grew more detailed. He learned that adding crushed belladonna alongside valerian roots heightened the potion's sleep-inducing properties but made it unstable, requiring precise temperature control. One experiment caused the potion to crystallize entirely, shattering the cauldron when he stirred too quickly. Another trial turned the liquid a dull, lifeless gray, leaving him shaking his head in frustration. Despite the setbacks, Gray adjusted his recipe with a relentless focus, each failure guiding him closer to something entirely new. His emotions shifted between quiet despair and stubborn resolve, the occasional sigh escaping his lips as he worked tirelessly to refine his creation.