Requiem for the Living
By Jinxd n Cursed
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I merely play in the world of J.K. Rowling; she still owns the characters.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion,
et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem.
Exaudi orationem meam,
ad te omnis care veniet.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Chapter Five
Severus looked over the calculations he had done on Granger—no, Weasley's—project. He was right that Rhodiola Rosea could be substituted by fluxweed but with further calculation, it did not fully take the place of the St. John's Wort. Rather, it decreased the amount needed by half. It also reduced the required number of stirs from three hundred twenty down to forty-seven. It also diminished the required simmer time from eight hours down to a slim twenty-eight minutes, though the flame needed to be higher in order to bind the Rhodiola Rosea to the Aloe Vera juice in the base.
He considered the other ingredients of the Wolfsbane potion and his eyes zeroed in on the egregiously expensive Griffin feathers. The potion required three feathers to the tune of twenty galleons in total. He had previously substituted Hippogriff feathers for Griffin feathers in other potions, though more feathers were required. He began running the arithmancy calculations for an equivalent to the three Griffin feathers. It took close to twenty minutes to write out the complex equation that would reveal the quantity needed, the time needed to incorporate, and the direction of stirring required. He tapped his wand against the parchment and watched as numbers appeared in the appropriate spots: Five feathers, seven minutes to incorporate (down from half an hour), and anti-clockwise stirring. That stirring pattern was typical of Griffin feathers, though.
Severus was unsure as to why he was performing these calculations for Granger—no, Weasley. Damn if he could ever get the chit's last name correct. Her theory was interesting and apparently had merit given that he had just replaced two ingredients with lower cost, less volatile elements with relative ease. His experience in potion development and working with masters had shown him that there was a certain level of ingredient snobbery. They used the highest quality, most finicky ingredients simply because they could. They weren't trying to create a potion that an average brewer could recreate; they wanted to make a master's level potion. In order to generate the most money from developing a potion, they needed to sell the formula, obviously, but money could also be made by brewing and selling the potion at a high mark up. Generally, the retail cost of a prepared potion was two to three times the cost of the ingredients and the royalties for the formula. He knew all this, of course, because he was a Potions master who made his living by brewing and selling potions.
Severus rubbed his temples and pulled his pocket watch from his trousers and checked the time: half past noon. He left his notes on the desk and ascended the steps from the cellar. He would need to dedicate his afternoon to brewing the latest shipment of burn paste requested by St. Mungo's and ignoring the issues of the Wolfsbane. It wasn't as if it would make him any money. Rather, he supposed it was merely an academic curiosity to try to solve the problem.
As he passed through the garden to enter the house once more, he heard an owl hoot and looked up just as a large barn owl flew down from a tree, landing on his shoulder. It stuck out its leg and Severus untied the proffered scroll. It bore the obnoxiously bright lime green seal on the outside so he assumed it was merely another order for potions. He offered the owl a treat but it did not fly off and instead perched on a branch. Peculiar.
Setting the scroll on the worn kitchen table, he prepared himself a sandwich with leftover roast beef and Welsh rarebit. Grabbing a bottle of pale ale from the cold storage cabinet and packet of crisps from the pantry, he sat down at the table. Taking a bite of the sandwich, he broke the seal on the scroll. He read the first sentence and almost spat his sandwich back out. This was an unexpected turn of events.
Dear Mr. Hier,
I am Healer Hermione Weasley, contacting you on behalf of the advanced research department of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am head of the research team recently responsible for discovering a cure for Spattergroit. Yes, he had heard about that one and was surprised that she had chosen to be involved in potion development. You may have read about it in the latest issue of 'Potions Quarterly' or in the Daily Prophet. He hadn't had time to read either article but curiosity drew him to consider spending his evening reading time on those articles.
We are hoping to continue our research in curing some of the worst diseases facing the Wizarding world by seeking a cure for lycanthropy. This disease carries with it not only horrible transformations during the full moon but also a great social stigma that presents those affected from finding employment, gaining an education, and participating in society in a normal manner. There was no difficulty in finding employment when Albus Dumbledore was involved. He was still resentful that the old man had hired Lupin.
Our first phase of research is to make improvements on the current formula for the Wolfsbane potion to make it more readily accessible for sufferers. We aim to replace rare, expensive ingredients with lower cost alternatives and simplify the brewing process without negatively affecting the potion's efficacy. We have already begun this phase of research but are in need of a potions expert in order to progress further.
In our second phase of research, we intend to create an actual cure for lycanthropy that would prevent transformation from occurring at all. Doing so will transform what was once a horrific, life altering condition into something inherently treatable. Good luck with that one. Many Potions Masters better than him had failed at that task. No wonder she was having trouble getting a new Potions Master to join her team.
Your name was given to me by Healer Janice Davis, in charge of coordinating the supply of healing potions to St. Mungo's. She spoke highly of the quality of your brews and recommended that we seek you out for the possibility of assisting in our research. He highly doubted she had said anything of the sort. Becoming a part of our team comes with a competitive salary and a flexible working schedule. Not nearly as flexible as his own schedule. You would also be offered the chance to work with individuals in the tops of their fields on an innovative project that could benefit all wizard kind. And by all wizard kind, she meant a highly specialized population. He didn't know who else was on the team to be able to evaluate that those involved were at the tops of their respective fields.
I hope to discuss the possibility of you joining our team in person. If that is agreeable to you, please respond by return owl with a date and time that is convenient to you.
Sincerely,
Hermione Weasley
Head of Medical Research
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
It read like a form letter. She must be getting desperate if she was sending out letters to potioneers who didn't even have a registered mastery. Granted, he had one but as far as Hermione Weasley was concerned, he was Jack Hier, a Welsh potions technician who made a few more advanced potions for the hospital. He would have to reply, if only to make a point of her desperation.
He chewed his sandwich and contemplated what to reply. The nasty professor in him wanted to send back some kind of demeaning reply about her education and lack of talent. He considered making fun of her inability to get someone to work with her prior to her contacting every single brewer St. Mungo's contracted with. The other part of him was curious. He wanted to know if they had any leads about ingredient substitutions thus far. Working with them would never do, of course. That would require him to reveal his status of being among the living.
The Wizarding world was not a forgiving society. Though he had seen that Harry Potter had made sure of his status as a hero and he'd seen his name exalted far beyond what he could have previously imagined, he had a suspicion that if he were to come forth, he would immediately be put on trial for the death of Albus Dumbledore. People don't just forget when you've killed one of the most venerated wizards of all time. He doubted he would receive a hero's welcome.
Upon finishing his lunch, he placed the dishes in the sink and waved his wand to set them to scrubbing. He could spare a few minutes to pen a response before it was necessary to begin brewing in his basement lab.
Dear Healer Weasley,
Greater wizards than yourself have attempted this project without any success. Do you presume to know better than the likes of Nicholas Flamel, the great alchemist himself? Your cause to cure lycanthropy will bring you only grief and disappointment—do not presume otherwise.
Your suggestion to simplify the brewing process for the Wolfsbane potion may have some merit, a fact that will only come to light with time. I have no desire to take up any of my precious time meeting with you in person until you can prove to me that you can communicate concisely, a concept that you do not seem to grasp based on your rambling interview with the Daily Prophet. You shall convey the research you have completed thus far in a brief manner and after I have read it, I will consider whether or not your little project is worthy of my time.
I can also assure you that as far as government wages are concerned, you can take their idea of a generous salary and double it. That should make sufficient pay for my expertise, should I deign to join your ragtag team.
Sincerely,
Jack Hier
Reading over the letter once, he sealed the parchment and went outside, calling for the owl that had delivered it. The bird extended its leg for him to tie the scroll on. Severus offered one more owl nut and the bird took off, digging its claws somewhat painfully into his shoulder as it took off. Satisfied that the healer was sufficiently chastened and would reply soon, he descended the cellar steps into his lab.
The first task of the day was a simple burn paste. He set a number two pewter cauldron onto the rack and lit a fire underneath, adding two quarts of water to the cauldron. Mindlessly, he began crushing wintergreen leaves into a fine powder, tipping it into the cauldron once complete. Next, he crushed willow bark and tipped it into the cart as well, stirring the cauldron three times clockwise, and twice anticlockwise with a glass stirring rod. The brew turned a light brown and began to steam. He had enough time to prepare the rest of the ingredients while the potion simmered. After adding two unicorn tail hairs, he stirred again.
After the number of times he had brewed this potion, he could practically do it while asleep. His movements were precise and methodical with a graceful economy of motion. Nothing was wasted, not even the tiniest fleck of powder or drop of juice. The act of brewing was calming to him normally, but he could not seem to turn his mind to its usual empty state whilst performing such a routine task. Instead, he was stuck on thinking about Weasley's proposed potion. He had already established that the idea had merit and he found himself surprisingly looking forward to a response to his missive. It was likely to be entertaining, even if it was not informative. She had been a typical hot-tempered Gryffindor as a school girl, incapable of containing any sort of strong emotion. As a first year she had locked herself in a bathroom, simply because a classmate was unkind to her. She had punched Draco Malfoy in a fit of pique at thirteen. Who knew what she had done since then? Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor.
He made no effort to consider what would happen if they maintained a correspondence. That would come as a complete surprise later on.
Author's notes: Thank you to the wonderful DanB86 for beta-reading this chapter and saving you all from my complete inability to spell or use proper grammar. You have no idea.
As always, please review. I love hearing from my readers.
Updated 8/5/15 for minor grammar fixes