Sufficiently Advanced Technology…
…is indistinguishable from magic. – Arthur C. Clarke
CHAPTER 9 – Arcane Chemistry
After lunch, Hermione, Ron and Harry led Tim down to the dungeons.
"Uh, guys," Tim began apprehensively, looking around at the clammy walls. "Why are we going down here?" He shivered slightly in the the chill dampness.
"Because this is where Potions is," Ron answered darkly.
"Be careful in this class, Tim." Harry had suddenly become uncharacteristically serious. "Snape uses any excuse to issue detentions and take points away from us."
"Us?"
"Any house other than Slytherin, but especially Gryffindor. He's liable to ask you about obscure potion ingredients. You'll be glad we made you study that book last night."
"But don't say anything unless he specifically calls on you," Hermione said ruefully. "In fact, try to be as discreet as possible. With Snape, the less he notices you, the better off you are. No more talking now!"
The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students barely had time to take their seats in the classroom, before Professor Snape strode in through the door, cloak billowed behind him. He strode up the aisle between the old-fashioned schoolroom desks, turning dramatically at the front of the room. His cold eyes swept the class, settling on Harry.
"So, Potter," he said, slowly moving to stand menacingly in front of Harry. "I see I'm saddled with you and your… friends… for another year." He stepped past Ron and Hermione, then stopped to focus on Tim. Looking up into that chill, antagonistic gaze, Tim suddenly realized how a criminal must feel when cornered by the Bat.
"And here we have…a new Gryffindor." Snape examined Tim in the manner of a scientist studying a rather loathsome new insect. "Mr. … Drake. From… America, I believe." His voice dripped disdain, but Tim, forewarned, did not respond to the obvious baiting. He waited until Snape shot a direct question at him.
"Tell me, Mr. Drake, what could be made using henbane, belladonna, or datura flowers?"
"Flying ointment, sir." Tim had had plenty of experience with hostile teachers in his school career.
Snape's surprise was apparent to Tim, who had undergone many hours of training from Batman in reading body language.
"What is the antidote for an overdose of deadly nightshade?"
"Opium, sir."
Snape wheeled around to glare at the rest of the students, who were avidly watching the interrogation.
"This student may actually do well in this class – unlike most of the rest of you." He returned to the front of the room.
"Open your books to page eight hundred twenty-six. Today we begin truth serums."
Tim measured out five scoops of powdered dragon bone, and added it to his cauldron on top of the shaved shark scales, pickled rose stems, chopped earthworms, hen's teeth, and whole white peppercorns. Then he diced four cubes of solidified smoke, the last of the dry ingredients, and added it at the rate of one teaspoon every fifteen seconds. Now it was time for the liquids.
One cup of melted tubeworm oil, and stir five times clockwise. Three drams Portuguese-man-o-war jelly, carefully folded in. Stir exactly forty-six times counterclockwise.
Tim wrinkled his nose. This stuff was beginning to smell awful. Oh, well.
Add seven teaspoons attar of red applewood. Mix for thirty-one and one-half seconds. Now add…
SSSSSSSSSSSSSS…
Snape sighed theatrically.
"If you can't even make a simple potion like this, Wood, how do you plan to ever achieve N.E.W.T. standard? Not that anyone would have ever realistically expected you to make it that far, anyway." He practically oozed false sympathy. "I didn't think anyone could still confuse clockwise with counterclockwise. I'm afraid I will have to record today's effort as a zero, sad to say."
Tim stiffened as Snape sarcastically berated the Ravenclaw student, but Hermione grabbed his arm. When he glanced her way, she shook her head slightly. Not liking her meaning, but understanding the necessity for it, he relaxed and continued his own measuring.
…add one quart of seawater taken from the Indian Ocean. Simmer for exactly fifteen minutes and fifty-five seconds. Briskly whisk in one gallon of dilute (not concentrated!) octopus ink. Cauldron contents should now be bright blue.
Tim ladled a sample of his potion into a flask as he had seen Hermione do. He stoppered it, and carefully carried it to the teacher's desk.
Snape examined his sample carefully.
"Very good, Mr. Drake. Miss Granger, I want you to examine Mr. Drake's potion, here. This is the correct shade of blue. Yours is two shades too light. I fear you are not qualified to be Hogwarts Headmistress yet!"
Hermione reddened at Snape's snide comment, but didn't say anything. Both students returned to their worktable. Hermione glanced at Tim, who obviously wasn't sure how to clean up the mess. Then she took out her wand, exaggerated her motions, and said, "Evanesco!" very clearly. Tim followed suit, and they packed their now-clean equipment away. Looking over at the next table, they saw Harry and Ron finishing just as the bell rang. All four of them exited the dungeon as fast as humanly possible.
TO BE CONTINUED…