Chapter 10 - Advance to Level 6
"Would I see a thestral if I've eaten Mrs. Cackleberry's creamed liver and lima-bean loaf? It's almost the same as death..."
~Peek Ferris
As a reminder - I do not own any part of the Harry Potter World
"Professor Snape, sir, I am here," said Peek as he arrived at the dungeon classroom and knocked lightly on the door frame. Snape was seated at his desk wreathed in smoke from an oily burner "Sir, if it was about the flobber-"
"That is not why I called you here." Snape stood and stepped to the table nearest to him. A cauldron sat upon it, a set of knives laid out in order, a mortar and pestle, long-handled spoons, and a set of measuring scales.
"Come here," ordered Snape. "Consider these instructions carefully. Do not assume they are correct. Brew this potion."
Peek crossed the classroom to the table, opposite of Snape. Snape slid the hand-written recipe to Peek who took it up and read the title.
"Thestral Wart Remover? What is a Thestral?"
"It is a winged horse," said Snape as he returned to his desk. "Reptilian."
"Oh. And this is for warts?" replied Peek. He looked around the room. "Sir, what happened to bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses? And, the whole bottling fame business?"
Snape did not respond but instead breathed a heavy breath.
"Right," said Peek. "Brew the potion. Right away."
Peek reviewed the recipe starting at the top and working his way down. His finger trailed along but stopped midway through the ingredients.
"Tubor Alkaya is really strong and there is nothing here to balance it with. These thestral-things better be the size of elephants."
"No. The winged horses are - not surprising - the size of horses."
"Professor Snape, this potion will kill them. Dead."
Snape sighed deeply, which to the untrained ear might have sounded like a growl.
"First years," muttered Snape under his breath. "Mr. Ferris," he said in a much louder voice. "As I said, consider these instructions carefully. Do. Not. Assume they are correct."
Snape added his little pauses between words again but not as much as when he taught in class. Peek wondered why. Was it an intimidation technique? Maybe it was stress? Peek would watch for a twitching eye next time Snape spoke.
"Yes sir," said Peek.
Peek took the recipe to the ingredients cabinets and measured out sizable portions of each, including a quart of Napoli dew water. If Snape flushed Peek's work, he'd be ready for a retry.
Back at the table, Peek poured the dew water in the cauldron to start the potion's base. To it he added elder serpentine vine extract, distilled borenthial port, and flugger weed milk. He had worked many times with these ingredients and had a feel for how much of each he should use. These were the easy ones. He could be a little wrong without affecting the outcome. He lit the burner underneath the cauldron, waited for a light boil, and made the requisite stirs, first clockwise and then counter-clockwise.
While the base thickened, he went back to the cabinets and retrieved an hourglass. He chopped up three portions of the aged petrivascal rind, instead of two which the recipe called for.
"Crush the cold-water kelp buds into a fine pulp?" Peek rumpled his face.
Instead, Peek cut up the kelp buds along the seams and expressed the nodal juice. Nobody in their right mind crushed cold-water kelp buds anymore. The dark ages were in part, called the 'dark ages' because of crushed cold-water kelp buds. It's a long tale.
"Professor Snape, did you write this recipe?" asked Peek.
"No."
Peek nodded a relief. "That's encouraging…", he said under his breath.
"What?" said Snape irritably.
"Oh, I said um, does your eye twitch often?"
"Focus. On. Your. Work." growled Snape.
Peek continued cutting, chopping and slicing the ingredients while adjusting the cauldron heat as if it was a living thing requiring constant care. He spun in place two times to disturb any forming patterns. This wasn't in the instructions. It was a tip to anyone brewing an unfamiliar draft. "Never let routine spoil the day" as Mr. Millwater would say.
Snape noticed the many heating adjustments Peek made, the extra petrivascal rind, the kelp pods, and the turning in place. This wasn't an average student. Peek wasn't just well-learned, he was gifted.
Peek flipped over the hour glass, also not called for in the recipe, and began adding the remaining ingredient including only half of the Tubor Alkaya. At this point, the recipe instructions were useless. The remaining stirs were critical but Peek made them by 'gut feeling'. The stirs given in the original recipe might have worked in the summer when days were longer and the angle of the sun's rays was less severe. Stirring technique was less important and one might get away with a sloppy hand during that part of the year. But in the autumn? Never. Whatever was concocted might have removed thestral warts...along with the thestral.
"Sir, have you ever thought about getting a puppy?"
"Mr. Ferris!"
"Potion! Right!" said Peek. "It's almost done."
After twenty more minutes, the potion was done just as the final grain of sand fell in the hourglass. Peek ladled out a small amount into a clear flask and swirled it. All the ingredients had dissolved. The liquid was a smooth milky yellow. The recipe had not indicated the final color but judging by what went into the cauldron, this was the color Peek expected.
"Sir, it is finished," said Peek with a deep breath.
Peek was not serving a detention, he was in a test. Correcting the errors was part of the test. But what was the motive? The great Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape could whip up the same potion blindfolded and he wouldn't have to spin in place, not even once. Why did Snape have Peek brew the curative? Where were these 'thestrals' and did they even have warts?
Snape approached the table like a rabid hawk swooping in on a helpless fawn, callous and indifferent, talons bared and flames like the devil, in its eyes. Or at least it was the feeling Peek was starting to work into. Maybe it wasn't stress that bothered the professor. Maybe it wasn't the need for extra bran in his diet, which Peek chose not to suggest. Maybe he was just angry.
In truth, Snape didn't swoop in at all. He merely stood and strided over without a word spoken.
Snape took the flask from Peek's hand and swirled it in the light just as Peek had done, just as Mr. Millwater had done countless times. Snape gave it a light sniff.
"Mr. Ferris, I will be pulling you from your first hour potions class because there is nothing you will learn there. You will be joining my sixth year students during your fifth hour. Is this understood."
"Yes sir," said Peek. He did not have a class during his fifth hour so it was an even trade, but it was far from understood. "What should I do for first hour?" asked Peek.
"You will take it as a free period for personal study or homework. You can sit in the Great Hall, your dorm, or the open lab down the hall.
"Yes sir." Peek was stunned. He knew his work with Millwater gave him an edge on his classmates but Snape was setting high expectations if he thought Peek could be successful with students five years older than him.
"When you are done gawping," said Snape, "pour out six flasks of five ounces each, clean up your work, and walk the flasks down to the groundskeeper. He will be expecting them."
"Sir, I don't know where the groundskeeper is."
"Ask. Someone."
"Yes sir."
Peek found Hagrid's large stone hut as the sun set between the distant mountain peeks and night drew near. He had met the half-giant briefly, outside Ollivanders. Hagrid was with Harry Potter who had just purchased his wand. Peek was just about to purchase his own.
Peek delivered the thestral wart removal potion as directed.
"Mr. Hagrid, Professor Snape says thestrals are the size of horses," said Peek, making conversation as his small hands placed the six stoppered flasks in the groundskeeper's huge hands.
"They are horses when it comes down to it," said Hagrid in his loud booming voice. "Beautiful beasts, thestrals are, and one of the single most misunderstood of creatures. They're not pretty to look at, if you can see 'em mind you, but they're kind and gentle."
"Wait, why wouldn't I be able to see them?" asked Peek.
"Well, not everyone can." replied Hagrid.
"Are they invisible, sir?"
"Well, sort off. It's an understanding of the mind. Those who've been hurt in a way, can see 'em."
"Hurt in a way?"
"Well…," began Hagrid but he hesitated. Thestrals could be seen by those who had witnessed and understood death - it was not a healthy topic to discuss with young first year students. Peeks small size made it seem even more inappropriate.
"Sir, I've been hurt before. I was cut with a knife once. Can I try to see them?"
"I don't know if that's a good idea. It's not really physical hurt..." The topic was clearly getting awkward for the giant man.
Peek realized what Hagrid was trying not to say. Peek had seen death many times over; the homeless caught outdoors in winter, the poor with their blood spilled over the small change in their pockets, and the neglect that wore away the spirit and left the body to waste away.
"I think I understand, Mr. Hagrid," said Peek in a lowered voice. "I'll leave it at that. But perhaps you can tell me if the potion works out for them. I made it."
"You made this?" said Hagrid as he indicated the flasks in his hand. He welcomed any subject change.
"Yes sir, I did. Professor Snape was testing me. He is putting me in with his sixth year class."
"Blimey," said Hagrid. "I've ne'er 'eard of that before. You must be a fair hand at it."
Peek reddened at the compliment. "Brewing I can do, Mr. Hagrid. The rest of my classes are tough."
Hagrid nodded. He remembered his struggles in the same classrooms. "How about you leave off the 'Sirs' and the 'Mr. Hagrid' and just call me 'Hagrid' like the rest."
Peek smiled. "Okay."
Hagrid smiled too. "I'll let you know how this works out. Thestral warts are common enough, but left untreated, can be irritating for the poor creatures." Hagrid looked up at the darkening sky. "Now then, you best be off. It's late."
"Yes, sir. Yes Hagrid." Peek corrected.
Peek considered his move to the new class as he followed the path back up to the castle. The evening dew set early. The stones were slick and the grass soaked Peek's shoes and socks through to the skin. The sun was gone and a crescent moon arose to fill the void.
He considered the thestrals too. Indeed Peek knew death. He had no doubt he would see them if given the chance and in some way would be a kindred soul. But in that moment, with the thought of new and exciting challenges awaiting him, when the raw mountain air filled his lungs, and the light chill breeze raised the hair on his arms, he felt alive for the first time in a long while. He stepped off the path, far away from casual discovery. He sat on a small stone outcropping with his back to the castle and its many lights. A thousand mountains lay in silhouette before him with the vastness of the world behind them. It was here he stayed for the whole of the night. And in the weeks to come, he could be found there often.
End of Chapter 10