Chapter 64: Potion Research And Development
Vaughn’s speculations and searches for the secret room were a small diversion he’d created for himself in his busy life.
He had made all the preparations for the new potion, and was just waiting for Professor Snape to find some free time to take him to find a werewolf.
Two days later, as Vaughn emerged from the Slytherin common room, dressed neatly, he saw Snape waiting for him in a dark corner of the corridor.
His sinister and eerie demeanor made it seem as if he was involved in some clandestine meeting.
“Professor, get some sun. It won’t melt you.”
“Shut—up!”
“Yes, Professor.”
They went to the office together, and Snape, with a stern face, handed him a basin of Floo Powder:
“Go to Knockturn Alley, and don’t mispronounce it!”
Vaughn suddenly started to miss Fawkes’s phoenix form; it was so convenient, unlike Floo Powder which made you covered in soot.
He grabbed a handful and dove into the fireplace.
After following the standard procedure, when he opened his eyes, he had arrived in a dark, narrow alley.
Unlike Diagon Alley not far away, the public fireplaces here looked shabby and broken, and many sneaky figures were hidden in the corners.
Every time green flames flared and people teleported in, they would pull their cloaks tighter and hurry away, not daring to linger.
Vaughn didn’t seem to mind. He brushed off the dust and waited for a while. The fireplace behind him lit up.
But Snape didn’t come out immediately.
Vaughn saw him standing in the fireplace, quietly waving his wand…
Vaughn asked with a smile, “Professor, are you secretly cleaning out the ashes?”
Then, Snape’s gritted-teeth response came from the fireplace: “Shut! Up!”
Not long after, Snape emerged, clean and refreshed.
His clothes were immaculate, and his hair was still slick and black, not a speck of dust on it.
If not for Vaughn’s shout earlier, he was sure his persona would have been maintained perfectly.
He glared at Vaughn and led the way towards a shop.
Knockturn Alley was notorious throughout the wizarding world, where dark wizards conducted all sorts of unsavory and ugly transactions.
But the fact that it still existed and hadn’t been cleared out by the Ministry of Magic naturally meant it had its own ways of survival.
At least Vaughn knew that many illegal transactions didn’t actually take place in Knockturn Alley; there was also an underground street block, the entrance to which was hidden within these shops.
For instance, Borgin and Burkes!
Borgin and Burkes was ostensibly a shop selling antiques; it wasn’t illegal, just a grey industry that skirted the edges of Ministry law. As for whether the antiques possessed dangerous Dark Arts… what did that have to do with the owner?
As Snape led Vaughn into Borgin and Burkes, the owner of the shop, Mr. Borgin, acted as if he hadn’t seen them, focusing on combing his shiny pompadour.
Only when Vaughn looked at him did he offer a greasy smile.
Snape also ignored him, leading Vaughn all the way to the back of the shop, opening a trapdoor, and taking Vaughn down.
It was a narrow cellar, and two people made it a bit crowded. As the trapdoor closed, Snape uttered a spell, and Vaughn felt the walls around him seem to move.
A moment later, the view brightened again, and he saw a door appear before him.
The instant it was pushed open, a bustling underground street block appeared before his eyes. It looked quite dilapidated, with uneven roads everywhere and dirty puddles.
The smell of rotten frog innards mixed with fermented snake venom wafted through the air, making one feel dizzy.
The light was also dim all around, with only a few torches scattered sparsely in front of some shop entrances.
Shifty figures walked to and fro in this dark, dirty street, whispering to each other, and occasionally someone would cast an evil curse, the magic of which brought light before being extinguished in screams.
The people around acted as if they saw nothing.
“What a chaotic place.” Seeing a flicker of green light in the distance, Vaughn shook his head in amazement.
Snape’s expression was blank. He waved his wand, blasting away a guy who suddenly charged at them, and said, as if mocking or warning, “In the eyes of the scum here, a child like you is practically a walking target. I hope you have some self-awareness. I don’t want to receive tearful letters from your parents one day.”
Vaughn shrugged, “Rest assured, Professor, I value my life more than you think.”
Snape’s upper lip curled into an almost imperceptible smile, and he said in his characteristic drawn-out emphasis, “It’s best if you do—”
After dealing with two more babbling idiots on the way, he led Vaughn to a shop.
As soon as they pushed the door open, Vaughn heard a wizard yelling at the thin old shopkeeper behind the counter:
“…You guaranteed me that this potion would cure Dragon Pox （ a contagious wizarding illness. The first case was because of… you know, with a dragon ）. Damn it, look, look at my face—”
Flames suddenly spurted from the nostrils of his sallow face.
The old shopkeeper waved his broom, constantly swatting away the man’s outstretched hand, and explained, “Those potions are absolutely effective, they are made by Master Snape… Ah, Mr. Snape, you’re here just in time!”
Snape snorted and glanced at the wizard, “The potion is fine. If you hadn’t gotten ‘intimate’ with a dragon again, you would have been cured long ago!”
Beside him, Vaughn watched the wizard with amazement.
He had just thought this was an unfortunate infected victim, but unexpectedly, he was a warrior…
Perhaps awed by Snape’s title of Potions Master, this warrior who danced with a dragon finally left in disappointment.
The relieved old shopkeeper thanked Snape and closed the shop door, leading them to the basement.
“Mr. Snape, these are the werewolves you requested.”
He opened a heavy door.
Vaughn peered inside and saw that in the small room, more than a dozen iron cages were welded to the rough stone walls. Some raggedly dressed people sat or lay in the cages.
Some had no light left in their eyes, listless like puppets, while others growled ferociously like beasts.
Vaughn looked at the old shopkeeper and asked, “What are the identities of these werewolves? Vagrants? Or Greyback’s werewolf legion?”
The old shopkeeper first looked at Snape. Seeing Snape’s usual aloofness, he immediately realized that it was the child in front of him who needed these werewolves.
A businessman would not oppose Gold Galleons. The old shopkeeper smiled and produced a roster, “Sir, you mentioned them all. Their identities are recorded here, please take a look.”
Vaughn examined it carefully for a moment, nodded, opened his satchel, and took out a bag of Gold Galleons he had prepared earlier, handing it to the old shopkeeper, “Is it okay to borrow your basement?”
“Of course, sir, please use it freely.”
The old shopkeeper said almost subserviently.
Seeing that the transaction was complete, Snape said, “I’ll wait for you upstairs.”
“Hey, kid, come here and let me taste your flesh!”
“Let me out, you red-haired little pig—”
As Vaughn entered the cell filled with werewolves and closed the door, the threats and roars of the werewolves began to clamor in his ears.
These energetic fellows were all members of Greyback’s werewolf legion.
Vaughn held the roster in his hand, checked them one by one against the photos, and ignored their insults.
After more than ten people were accounted for, Vaughn transformed a stone brick into an experiment bench.
He opened his magical satchel and took out his tools.
A microscope purchased from Muggle society at a great cost （ enchanted to see magical traces ）, a separation device he designed himself （ with simple centrifugal capabilities for tissue fluid research ）, a set of enchanted surgical tools, automatic extraction canisters, an automatic quill…
As these devices, built at a cost of over 2000 Gold Galleons, were laid out one by one.
The delighted Vaughn gradually hummed a little tune.
The atmosphere in the dim basement suddenly became eerie.
When everything was in place, he put on a pair of glasses — they had a magnification function — and tapped a few times on the parchment roster in his hand with his wand.
Then he said happily, “First test subject, Mr. Marcus… Oh, was that you who said you wanted to taste my flesh just now?”
The werewolf named Marcus’s roar stopped abruptly. His eyes beneath his messy long hair widened as he watched the smiling child raise his wand.
“Transfiguration Spell!”
Under the powerful Transfiguration, the iron bars of the cage were pulled out one by one, twisting and coiling around Marcus’s limbs and head like climbing snakes. The other ends extended upwards through the roof and down into the ground, suspending Marcus with his limbs spread wide, one foot off the ground.
Then, Vaughn picked up a syringe, adjusted his glasses, and said, “Now, Mr. Marcus, let’s begin. This potion will help you transform into a werewolf and activate the virus in your body, making it easier for me to observe and extract. I’m sure you won’t mind, right?”
Mr. Marcus, whose head was covered, could not answer.
He couldn’t even struggle.
As the potion was injected into his body, the werewolf’s howl soon echoed in the basement, turning into a mournful cry. In the shop upstairs, Snape and the old shopkeeper, upon hearing the sound, showed no change in expression.
More than three hours later, as it approached noon, Snape re-entered the basement.
He smelled the faint scent of potions in the air and pushed open the door, only to be met with a gruesome scene – a few blobs of rotting flesh, which still retained their normal shape despite being reduced to skeletons, were restrained about a foot off the ground.
Their skin had been peeled back, their muscles and internal organs completely exposed, and their pink nerves twitched.
Surprisingly, there was no blood; it had all been drawn by a floating jar nearby. Every time a test tube was filled, it would automatically float to the separation equipment and spin with a humming sound.
Nearby, many similar devices were operating, leaving Snape spellbound.
Although he knew Vaughn’s approach was always unconventional and completely different from traditional potioneers, such a scene still challenged his imagination.
Vaughn was currently hunched over the experiment bench.
The magnification glasses were pushed up onto his forehead, his eyes were close to the microscope, and the magical and potion-like halo flowed within the slide. On the other side of the experiment bench, the automatic quill, connected to his thoughts, was scribbling away.
Hearing the sound of Snape entering, he looked up, “Ah, Professor, is it noon already?”
“Yes…” Snape paused for a moment and asked, “How is the progress?”
“Very smooth.”
Vaughn, in a good mood, said cheerfully, “With the cooperation of a few gentlemen, I’ve found where the werewolf virus is located. It’s incredible, they have an extra organ compared to ordinary humans. When a werewolf is in human form, this organ is hidden behind the heart.”
“But when the werewolf begins to transform, its tissues spread into the lymphatic system, and by circulating in the lymphatic system, it fills the werewolf’s saliva and blood with the virus…”
“Furthermore, the inhibition of the werewolf virus by Wolfsbane has been verified as feasible, but it’s not enough. It primarily targets the magical aspect of the virus, which is a curse power. It is intertwined with the virus and is the main reason werewolves lose their minds.”
As he spoke, he flipped through his notes, muttering, “It’s a bit difficult. The curse and the virus are one. If either is not eliminated, they will regenerate… Currently, it seems Wolfsbane can only inhibit the curse, not eliminate it. Therefore, even if the Wolfsbane potion is developed, it can only maintain the werewolf’s sanity…”
Upon hearing this, Snape immediately took the stack of notes from Vaughn.
After a quick perusal, his face twitched, and he looked at Vaughn, saying, “You think this is still not enough?”
Snapping back to his senses, Vaughn shook his head, “If it’s just about inhibiting the harm caused by werewolves losing control, then it’s certainly enough. But this potion won’t restrain those werewolves who are intent on doing evil.”
“You pursue perfection too much!” Snape criticized him, which was rare.
“In my opinion, this potion is already enough to help those poor people you told me about that day. Or rather, your potion can only help them.”
“Because only they are forced, and their predicament is due to the loss of control caused by their werewolf transformation. Your potion may not solve the werewolf problem, but it can alleviate their suffering, allowing them to live, work, and love like normal people…”
He suddenly stopped here.
He visibly showed a look of disgust, as if recalling some loathsome individual.
He skipped the word and concluded, “In short, it’s very useful!”
Vaughn remained noncommittal, feeling that Snape was a bit idealistic, “Professor, the prejudice in people’s hearts is a mountain. If it cannot be completely resolved, the plight of the werewolves will never improve!”
However, after more than three hours of testing the virus, Vaughn knew that it was unlikely he could solve it in a short period.
He then said, “Of course, you are right, it is indeed useful. At least it will prevent those who were forcibly infected werewolves from harming others.”
Seeing that Vaughn no longer seemed to be dwelling on it, Snape quickly resumed his aloof persona and asked concisely, “When do you plan to release it?”
“It will still take some time.”
Vaughn said, “Today was just a test of its properties. The properties cannot be preserved. Next, a series of tests will be needed to select auxiliary ingredients and plan the ritual to finalize the actual potion recipe… I’m so hungry, where should we eat?”
His leap of thought almost made Snape lose his composure.
“…Aren’t you going to deal with these test subjects?”
“Ah… I almost forgot. Could you help me burn them with Fiendfyre? These guys were all Greyback’s lackeys. They should be honored enough to have made such a contribution.”
“Hmph, cruel fellow!”
“Thank you for the compliment, Professor.”
Not long after, Fiendfyre engulfed the few piles of rotting flesh. This powerful curse fire burned them to nothing, not even ashes.
