Chapter 19 – Adventures in Alchemy
On Thursday afternoon, just after Alchemy, Harry was approached by Mandy Brocklehurst as he hurried away from the classroom. Thursdays were particularly busy for Harry, with his regular workload, his prefect duties, and secret occlumency lessons with Dumbledore, so he always tried to finish up early.
"Potter?" asked Brocklehurst. "Do you have a minute? This won't take long."
"I—er—alright," Harry said. "What is it?"
"Well, we've got the first practical assignment for Alchemy coming up soon, haven't we?" she said. "So the rest of us were thinking about getting together for a study group to give us all the best chance of getting through to the next assignment. You don't have to join in—I know you're really busy—but everyone else has agreed to meet in the library on Sunday evening. Just thought you'd want to know, that's all."
Harry blinked. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. Although, really, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting – he didn't think he'd said more than a few words to Brocklehurst before. She could have been there to ask him literally anything.
"I—thanks for inviting me," Harry said. "What time?"
"After dinner," said Brocklehurst. "I know it's late, but with clubs and homework and all of that we had to fit it in somewhere. Like I said, you don't have to come, but the rest of us are doing it."
"I'll definitely try to make it," Harry said. "It sounds like a great idea, to be honest." Of course, the six other people in his alchemy lessons weren't exactly the people he'd choose to spend his Sunday evening with – Theodore especially, given the other boy's steadfast refusal to take a side when it came to Voldemort – but the alchemy practical was too important to let that get in the way.
And Harry really did need to go over his planned incantation again. Eight heads were better than one, sometimes, anyway.
"See you, then," said Brocklehurst. She walked away.
Harry didn't stick around long after that either. He had a lot to get done before his meeting with Dumbledore after dinner, and he wanted to have a look in the library for a book on the Mind Arts. So Harry didn't think much about the alchemy study group on Sunday until Sunday came.
"I'll be back in a bit," Harry said to Blaise and Tracey as dinner ended on Sunday and everyone got up from the House tables. "Got that study group for alchemy."
"Yeah, alright," said Blaise. "Don't take too long, mind—I need your help for the history homework."
"I'll bear that in mind," Harry said. Not that he intended to – Blaise could do his own homework.
"Good luck!" Tracey said. She paused. "And… er… oh, I'm just going to say it: don't be too harsh with Theodore, okay? If he's going, I mean. I know you aren't talking anymore, but—"
"I'm not harsh with him," Harry interrupted. And he wasn't. He just didn't speak with him at all. "But he made his decision, didn't he?" But the Great Hall – emptying of students though it was – wasn't the proper forum for that discussion. "It doesn't matter. I'll back be later."
Harry left the Great Hall and headed for the library. He could have walked with Theodore, but Theodore was gone already, and Harry didn't want to anyway. Harry understood why Theodore didn't want to openly side against Voldemort: it would mean fighting his father, his only remaining relative in the world. Fine. Harry got that. But Theodore's ability to simply sit on the fence, pretend as if nothing was happening at all… it was more than a little frustrating. And without some sort of guarantee that Harry was safe from his father's – and by extension, Voldemort's – schemes, Harry couldn't allow himself to be close to Theodore.
Not unless or until Theodore expressed a preference for Harry's side, anyway. War was coming, and Harry stood to lose potentially rather a lot more than friends.
But that was a problem for later on. Another year, hopefully. Harry could get through alchemy study group without having a concrete answer as to Theodore's allegiances. He would just have to temper his expectations and be as polite as possible so as not to invite any undue interest from the rest of the group. Fortunately, Harry didn't think Theodore would be overly present – it was the sort of thing he'd attend, but not participate much in. So that should be fine.
When Harry arrived in the library it was only sparsely populated. Not surprising, given the late hour on a Sunday, but there were a few pockets of students scattered around. Harry assumed the study group for alchemy would be somewhere in the work area of the library, so he headed there first, and found he was near enough the last person to arrive – with the exception of the Hufflepuffs, Thomas Dragonsfoot and Roger Malone.
Theodore was present and sat the long study desk. He didn't meet Harry's eyes as Harry sat down. Hermione was already there, talking with Mandy Brocklehurst and Terry Boot about the assignment.
"Oh, you came," said Brocklehurst. "We're just waiting on the Hufflepuffs, but we can get started. They'll catch up."
"I was just saying—before you sat down—that I think we should help each other with the incantations," Hermione said. "Not that we should write them for each other since it's all meant to be specific and personalised, but there's quite a lot of different variables and I think it would be good for us to discuss some of them."
"Yeah, sounds good," agreed Harry. "If we've got time I wouldn't mind us all going over weights and measures. From what Professor Dee was saying the other day there's a big range and I was just wondering how everyone else was going to approach it."
The problem was that alchemical works were all highly personal. Although there was a general procedure, with more or less standardised ingredients, the precise amounts and methods and ritual components differed. And some methods went without some ingredients altogether, depending on the ritual created by the alchemist, so Harry could end up using a gram of orpiment while Hermione used none at all.
But Harry still felt it worth talking about. Just to see what everyone else was thinking. He had a rough idea of what he wanted to do for his Salve, anyway.
"That's one of the things I wanted to talk about as well," said Brocklehurst. "Obviously it depends on how we've interpreted the underlying theoretical framework of the ritual, but I was thinking the basic recipe needs at least an ounce each of powdered gold and silver. But Terry was saying he thinks half an ounce each. What do you all think?"
"I think I'd decided on an ounce of powdered gold and one and a half of the silver," Harry said. "You know, invoke the Moon over the Sun, because of what Mr Flamel was saying the other day. I wouldn't want to go under an ounce for the gold though because the light symbolism is too important for the overall ritual. You don't want it drowned out by the other stuff, do you?"
"No more than two ounces of powdered gold," Theodore said after a few moments. "And two ounces only if you aren't using liquid mercury."
"Yes, that makes sense," said Hermione. "Liquid mercury evokes the Moon like powdered silver, so if you were using the cinnabar instead you'd need more gold or silver to balance the reaction."
"I still think more than half an ounce of gold is unnecessary," said Boot. "It's just so much—especially when you're adding in the other stuff. Don't want to make the salve too bunged up with powders and all that if you don't have to. Plus, you can evoke the power of the sun through the incantation as well. I was going to do half an ounce of the gold, half of the silver, but two ounces of the saltpetre. I know that's controversial, but—"
"Controversial?" scoffed Brocklehurst. "Stupid is what it is. You'd be better off using copper—it has a tertiary solar symbolism so it should be much more effective."
"It's my ritual," said Boot, "so the apotheosis has to be relevant to me." He paused. "And I am using copper, anyway. But saltpetre has a really powerful association with clear sight, so I'm still going to use it."
"Your funeral," said Brocklehurst.
"I think it would probably work," Harry offered. "I mean, I'm not going to use that much saltpetre personally—I have a different balance in mind for my ritual—but with the right sort of setup I think that much saltpetre would be fine. You'd just have to, er, temper it with some more calomel, maybe." Harry shrugged. "I mean, you don't have to, but the transformative power of saltpetre is quite strong, so you don't want to go too far."
"See?" said Boot. "Potter agrees it would work. I just—wait, calomel? I wasn't going to use any—wouldn't the tin be enough?"
"There we go," said Brocklehurst. "See, Terry? You never listen, do you? I told you you needed to—"
But Brocklehurst didn't get to tell Boot what she'd already told him once before, because the two remaining members of the group had arrived at the table.
"Sorry we're late," said Dragonsfoot, putting his bag down onto a free chair. "Got held up. What are we arguing about?"
Roger Malone took the last remaining seat at the table and got out his own notes.
"Mandy thinks I'm stupid," said Boot. "So, you know, nothing unusual. Settle an argument, would you—"
"No, I think now that we're all here we should get on with it," said Hermione firmly. "We're all very busy and it's Sunday evening, so we've got to be fresh for the new week in the morning. So let's get on, shall we?"
Brocklehurst and Boot's argument was technically on topic, but Harry didn't mind that it was now over. Little arguments like that rarely went anywhere productive even if they were about the actual work to be done.
"Before you arrived we decided that this evening we would help each other with the incantations and with the weights and measures for the ritual, since obviously the actual procedures are specific and personal to each of us. Does that sound reasonable to the two of you?" continued Hermione. There was still one girl missing from the group, but Harry assumed she simply wasn't coming.
Whatever the case, Hermione didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "So, I thought we should talk about the incantations first. Since that's really the only bit where we have total control over the process, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," said Harry. It suited him well enough, anyway, since that was the bit he was having the most difficulty with for a number of reasons – not least of which that his command of Latin was still, at best, rudimentary. Between the two of them, Professor Dee and Mr Flamel had more or less told them which ingredients were absolutely necessary for the ritual and which were optional, so that was a much simpler affair. "But shouldn't we wait for the others?"
"We were only waiting on Thomas and Roger," Brocklehurst said, "and they've already got here."
"Well… alright," said Boot. "I suppose I was wondering about one thing—were you all going to use a continuous incantation throughout the ritual, or just put it in at the end? I was thinking about just doing it at the end, since there's already so much to be done during the ritual, but…"
"Continuous," Harry said immediately. "It's better. I mean, you don't have to say it the whole time, but I think Mr Flamel said it was better to make an invocation a few times throughout the ritual to really, er… well, he said something I can't quite remember but it was basically—"
"He said a continuous invocation can anchor the ritual more strongly in your chosen symbolism, which gives it more power," Theodore said. "So that's what I was going to use as well."
"Hmm." Boot scribbled that down onto his parchment.
"Er, yeah, that," Harry said. "But the problem I was having is that is that I wasn't sure about whether to invoke the power of three or seven, since—"
"Three, absolutely," said Brocklehurst.
"Seven," said Boot. He glanced at Brocklehurst. "Seven is more powerful than three."
"Yes, but three is more stable for this reaction because of Vikramayat's Principle," said Brocklehurst. "Terry, do you even listen in lectures or are you just—"
"I think both approaches are sensible depending on what you want to do," interrupted Dragonsfoot. "So it's fine. Really. If your process is better with seven, do the invocation seven times. Or just do it once if once is all you need."
"Yeah, exactly, it's situational," Harry said. "I think I'm going to go with seven, since I think that's what fits my process best, but I just wanted to see what everyone else thought about it, that's all."
Everyone else – Theodore included – had suggestions after that, and also asked questions about their own incantations and how it related to what they'd planned out for their own rituals. As the session went on, Harry felt quite glad he'd come, as he ended up receiving very useful feedback – not least of which was help on the specific phrasing of his invocations.
Towards the end of their session talk turned back to the weights and measures, which went well enough until it got off-track again.
"I asked Mr Flamel about the availability of powdered gold—since, you know, the whole situation with the goblins," Brocklehurst was saying, "and he said it's not a problem. I felt stupid, of course, because obviously he has no problem getting gold! But then I asked about powdered silver, and he did say that was a bit of an issue. Again, you know, the goblins…"
"Er, wait—what's that about the goblins?" Harry asked. He knew there'd been some issues over the summer because of things Vernon had mentioned after reading the papers, but he hadn't kept up with the news since Skeeter had been finding ways to mention him all the time. That and the exhausting torrent of anti-everything propaganda pieces.
It was just too much.
But the idea that the troubles with the goblins had gone far enough to impact the availability of things like gold and silver was worrying.
"They're agitating for wand rights, if you can believe it," Boot said. "Even though the last treaty says… well, we all know what it says." He waved his hand about. "But they've got a bit funny about some of the other things in it, so they're restricting the flow of certain goods. It's a ball ache, really, because it's not just about the money, is it? Gemstones, even gold and silver—we need those for all sorts of magic."
"But the school has managed to secure a proper supply of everything we'll need, at least for the Salve," Brocklehurst finished, "so we don't have to worry about that. Still, if it keeps on long enough we might be in trouble after Christmas…"
"I don't see how it's anything to do with wizards whether goblins have wand rights anyway," Hermione said. "It's not fair to keep wands away from goblins, not if they can use them."
Silence.
Harry didn't disagree with her, not exactly, although he was up to date enough with his goblin wars to realise that the ethics were secondary to the practicalities – goblins and wands were a threat to wizards. It really was that simple. An ethical problem, certainly, but everyone said the only thing preventing another goblin rebellion was that goblins didn't have wands.
Still, Harry didn't think present company was necessarily the best place for Hermione to air those views, as everyone except for Harry himself was a pure or halfblood and would have been raised with all sorts of ideas about goblins and wand rights. None of them positive.
"The ethics don't matter," Theodore said eventually. "It's just a bad idea for wizards for goblins to have wands. If things had been different a long time ago, maybe goblins with wands would be fine—but we've got enough to be worrying about without that." He glanced at Harry. Briefly, but Harry caught the motion and knew it for the reference to Voldemort that it was.
Hermione, however, took it as something else.
"Oh, and you agree with him, do you, Harry? Slytherins. Typical. I thought, after what you said the other night about the house elves, maybe you'd—"
"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted. "I agree with you, actually, Hermione: wizards don't have the right to tell goblins they can't use wands. But…" he paused. "I also agree with Theodore: if goblins got wand rights right now, it would be a bloodbath. I won't pretend to be an expert, or even really to have a properly considered opinion on it, but it's more complicated than just giving goblins wands. Isn't it?"
"That's right," said Dragonsfoot eventually, his deep voice quiet. "There are international laws about it—the ban on wand rights is an ICW statute. So… it's… complicated. They even govern how much goblin blood someone can have before being denied a wand—I think it's something like one-eighth. I know some countries go even further. And then there's all the sanctions and everything like that that would be put on any country that decides to go against the law and even with the ethical argument—if that's the route you want to go down—it just makes sense not to change the laws."
"Where did you read about that?" asked Hermione. "You sound like you know what you're talking about, but I've never heard about those laws before."
"I, it's, well—you know, current events, isn't it?" he said. He looked uncomfortable. "People don't like talking about all this, anyway. But the laws are all true—they're ICW statutes enacted by local authorities. There's some leeway, but… You can look up the laws in any book of ICW statutes. There should be one in here," Dragonsfoot said, gesturing at the library.
"Hmm," said Hermione. "I suppose the situation is quite complicated, then. But it's hardly fair to treat every goblin like they're dangerous. I'm sure most goblins would be fine with wands, and it's not like there aren't any bad wizards out there, is it? And we aren't banning wizards from having wands. Still, I don't think it's right to ignore the ethical question just because it's impractical to address it properly."
"Nor do the goblins, from the sound of it," said Boot. "But who cares about that? Look, before we go, I just wanted to ask—has anyone thought about using dragon's blood in their ritual? D'you reckon they'd have some for us to use? It's a bit specialty, isn't it? But the properties…"
"I thought about dragon's blood," said Harry, keen to change the topic, "but wasn't sure if they'd have it there for us to use either. If they've got some in for us then I'd like to use it too, but I went and collected lunar water already so even if not—"
"You collected your own lunar water?" said Malone, making one of his rare contributions to the study group. "When did you do that?"
"Last full moon," Harry said. "The textbook said for alchemical purposes you need to do it yourself, so I went and got some on Sunday." He paused. Everyone looked surprised, not just Malone, so Harry wondered if he'd wasted his time. "Why? D'you not think it's worth it?"
"I wish I'd thought of doing it, to be honest," said Boot. "Especially if we can't get dragon's blood. But the next full moon isn't until after Hallowe'en, is it? So we're out of luck."
Nods and grunts from everyone else. Well, except Hermione.
"I made some, too," Hermione said.
"Really?" asked Harry. "When? And, er, where? I didn't see you down by the lake."
"On Sunday, the same as you," Hermione said. "But I didn't see you either. I gathered mine from near the standing stones, you know, on the other side of the lake from the castle."
"Ah, must be it, then," said Harry. "Fair enough." Perhaps that would have been a better location, thinking on it, but that was a thought for next time he needed lunar water.
"Well, good for the both of you," said Brocklehurst. "Anyway, are we done? It's getting quite late and not all of us have the perks of being a prefect to be out after curfew."
Harry shrugged.
"Yeah," he said. "I mean, I am, anyway. I think we covered everything we needed. Right?"
Everyone else agreed, and they put away their things and headed out of the library. As they were leaving Harry realised he would have to walk back to the dungeons with Theodore, who he hadn't spoken with one to one since the end of their second year – but fortunately, Roger Malone and Thomas Dragonsfoot had to walk most of the way with them.
That saved Harry from the awkward silence.
"…do you think they'll have us doing the alchemical ritual during lessons, or put on a special session for it?" Roger Malone was saying as they headed back to the lower levels of the castle. "Since it's technically an OWL thing."
"I hadn't thought about it," Harry said. "I suppose they'll tell us soon."
"There's going to be a special session for it," Theodore said eventually. "I asked Professor Dee. Since the reaction can take ages."
"Ah, fair enough," said Malone. "Well, that's good, then."
They kept up a superficial conversation on the way to their respective Common Rooms and parted ways at where the cellars became the dungeons, leaving Harry alone with Theodore.
They walked in silence.
When they reached the entrance to the Common Room Harry opened his mouth to speak the password, but Theodore stopped him.
"Harry, I just—"
"Made a decision, have you? Decided not to support a genocidal murderer?" As soon as he'd said it, Harry knew it was the wrong thing to have said. But Harry wasn't about to take it back. Even so, Harry knew that whatever it was Theodore had been about to say would go unsaid.
"It's not that easy," Theodore said instead. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Steadfastness," he said to the entrance, and slipped inside the door, leaving Harry alone.
Professor Dee attended breakfast on the last Monday of October, the day before Hallowe'en itself. That alone was strange enough that Harry noticed it, but even stranger was that he approached the student tables himself at points throughout the meal. It wasn't so unusual for teachers to do that, Harry knew. Some of them would be at the tables more or less daily, passing along some piece of feedback or other, but Professor Dee rarely attended meals.
And he wasn't even smoking.
Midway through breakfast Dee approached the Slytherin table, first speaking with a fifth year, then two of the fourth years, until finally he reached Harry.
"We have an invigilated session booked for today," Dee said without preamble. "You won't be attending lessons. You will meet in the alchemy department after breakfast and bring nothing with you but your wand—and whatever special reagents you've decided to use for the ritual. I'm told you have lunar water; don't forget it." He sounded irritable, snappier than usual, with none of his usual languid cadence. "You'll be given the procedure sheet you submitted to us at the end of last week—use it." He glanced around the Slytherin table. "Now, where's the other one…?"
He wandered off before Harry could tell him Theodore hadn't been at breakfast.
"Just when I thought maybe I made a mistake not taking alchemy," Blaise said once Dee was gone, "Dee shows up and I remember why I didn't."
"He's not that bad," said Harry idly, picking at his toast. "He's in a mood this morning, but usually he's… well, not that bad. I reckon it's stress—did you know usually about a third of his students fail this test? And there's eight of us trying to sit for the OWL this year, so he must be worried about his numbers."
"Yeah, or he's worried no one will fail this year because he's got Nicolas bloody Flamel doing half his teaching, so he'll get the sack," Blaise said.
Harry considered it.
"Yeah, maybe. Probably not though – if they had to hire Flamel, they still need Dee, even if Dee is shit. Since there just aren't that many alchemists even qualified to do the teaching…"
"It's not like the classes are all that big," Blaise said. "I'm sure Flamel could manage. Good luck, anyway."
"Thanks," Harry said. He pushed the remains of his toast away. "I'm going to put my stuff back in the dorm and grab my lunar water—see you later."
Harry left, taking his things with him, and hurried back to the dungeons to make a swap – his bag for the bottle of lunar water. On his way through the Common Room Harry spotted Theodore sat at a study table with his books.
"Er—Theodore?" Harry said. "Professor Dee is looking for you. Not sure if you know. The alchemy practical is today—bring your wand and any special reagents, nothing else. Meet in the alchemy department. Just thought you should know."
Although they weren't quite getting on – and that was an understatement given the underlying reason – Harry still didn't want Theodore to fail. At least not because he didn't know about the exam, anyway.
Theodore nodded. "Thanks for telling me. I'll just…" he said, then trailed off. "Thanks for telling me."
Harry shrugged and headed to his dormitory, made the swap, and shot off towards the alchemy department so as not to be late. When he arrived the other third years – bar Theodore – were already there. Alchemy students from fourth and fifth year also waited along the alchemy department corridor, to the point where the corridor almost looked busy.
Only almost, since even the full cohort of OWL and NEWT alchemists was a paltry offering in comparison to the other subjects, but it was more than Harry usually saw waiting for entry to the labs. The topic on everyone's lips was, of course, the impending practical sessions. Harry wasn't sure what the uppers had to do, but he assumed it would be both difficult and rewarding if done right – if what the OWL candidates were doing was any indication, anyway.
"Do you think it's too late to change my method?" Harry heard Roger Malone say as he approached the other third years. "I was going over it last night and I realised it might be better to use more tin… I was going to ask Professor Dee today, but then we're doing it today so I won't get the chance."
Nobody said anything.
"I wouldn't change it now, personally," Harry offered. It seemed like a bad idea, anyway. Any change in the method, the ingredients, or … well, any part of the ritual would have consequences for any other part of the ritual. They'd spent near enough the whole term up until then working through those consequences, submitting revised methods and ingredients lists to both Professor Dee and Mr Flamel, and learning everything they could before actually doing the ritual.
And even that didn't feel like quite enough preparation to Harry. The idea of changing it up on a whim and trying to work out the consequences during an external exam was awful. Literally worse than facing down Voldemort, because at least Harry had done that before.
"Not now that we've submitted the procedures to Professor Dee, anyway—no chance for him to tell you if you're making a mistake. Go with the one you already decided," Harry said.
"Yeah, I suppose…" Malone said, although he didn't sound convinced.
"You've got to be really careful with all the parts of the ritual," Hermione added. "It's not just about the physical methods—the spiritual component of the ritual is extremely important. I wouldn't risk it, anyway."
"Too late now, I suppose," Malone said.
Not long after that, Theodore arrived and joined the rest of the group of third years. Harry nodded to him as everyone else greeted him, but otherwise didn't make any special effort. They could be cordial, they could be civil, but the closeness they'd once had… well, that was gone and was unlikely to come back while Theodore was turning a blind eye to his father's affiliation with Voldemort.
At ten past nine, Professor Dee, his apprentice, and Mr Flamel all arrived in the corridor, followed by two witches and a wizard Harry didn't recognise. He supposed they were the Ministry invigilators sent to oversee the ritual.
"Alright," said Professor Dee. "We're nearly ready to get started. Third years, follow Ms Platt into your usual laboratory. Fourth years, you're with Mr Flamel. Fifth years, you get the pleasure of my company today. Don't dawdle—we've all got a long day ahead of us."
Dee disappeared into one of the alchemy labs, followed by the Ministry wizard and eventually, the fifth year alchemists. Ms Platt led the third years into the normal laboratory and Harry followed.
Inside, the large alchemical laboratory looked as it usually did. Dozens of workbenches stood around the room, although unusually, the blinds on the windows were closed. In a departure from the normal state of things incense burners burned whatever substance it was that Dee smoked, puffing out green smoke that curled lazily upwards and blanketed the room in a green haze.
"Take one spot at each bench; there are more than enough for you all today," directed Platt as the eight third years entered the room. The Ministry witch assigned to the third years entered the room last, and the door shut firmly behind her. "This is Griselda Marchbanks—she will be overseeing your practical exam today. This is the first time any of you will have sat an external exam since coming to Hogwarts," continued Platt, "so I'm going to go over some rules. There is to be no talking amongst yourselves—you may only speak to make an invocation, or to ask a question from either myself or Madam Marchbanks. You are not to confer, ask any questions, or communicate with one another in any way. If you require assistance stick up your hand and wait to be seen. When we are ready to begin I will pass out your procedure sheets. All of the ingredients you will need for this alchemical work are present on your benches. I will give you the sericon you each produced in lessons with Professor Dee. Does anyone have any questions?"
"How much time do we have?" asked Boot.
"There is technically no time limit on today's assessment," Platt said. "That being said, it has never in the history of the assessment taken any student more than sixteen hours. Any other questions?"
But nobody seemed to have any. Harry was itching to get started, especially now that he was stood at his alchemical workbench.
"Then you may begin. Good luck!" said Ms Platt.
Harry didn't waste any time. All of the alchemical equipment he needed was on the workbench, but it hadn't been set up, so he did that first of all. While Harry was doing that, Ms Platt moved around the room handing out the sheets of parchment each student had submitted with their planned process.
Harry didn't think he'd need his, since he'd memorised the whole list of steps, but he was glad to have it there for referencing anyway. Even a small misstep in the process could have enormous consequences. Once Harry had his equipment set up properly, he took out his lunar water from his robe pocket and placed it on the workbench with the other ingredients. Then, he took a deep breath and prepared for the first of his seven invocations.
It was the same incantation each time, but Harry had opted to lean on the magical strengths of the number seven, so had sprinkled it through his process seven separate times. He just hoped he'd picked the seven best opportunities for it – and that the symbolism was useful. He'd tried to make it so that the ritual was symmetrical, which according to the theory they'd gone over with Mr Flamel, would increase the power. Harry thought he probably could have got away with three invocations, but seven was the more magically powerful number, and…
Don't worry about that now, Harry, he reminded himself. He'd done all that thinking already: now was the time for doing.
Harry took another deep breath and glanced down at the parchment where his incantation was written. He didn't need to read from it but read it over anyway just in case.
Harry had invoked the sun and the moon, of course, as was traditional. The alchemical ritual couldn't work without those powers, would fail without reference to the symbolic and spiritual powers of the Sun and the Moon in both invocation and the physical ingredients used. But Harry had made reference to his soul, too, and the transformative power of alchemy itself.
"Sol et Luna, elementa mea, vestra potentia invoco," Harry intoned. He had to speak clearly, but not so loud as to be shouting. Although Harry's Latin wasn't brilliant, he'd worked on the incantation long enough that he could visualise every piece of it in his mind, knew which symbolisms he'd evoked and which powers he was drawing from. The first part of his incantation sought the power of the Sun and the Moon, was foundational to the whole endeavour, in fact.
"Oculos meos, in vestra luce renovet, ut possim videre clarius," he continued, seeking to turn the borrowed power of the Sun and Moon to renew his body and soul. "Anima mea, in vestra luce renascat, ut possim videre veritatem. Corpus meum, in vestra alchemia transmutetur, ut possim agnoscere meam veram naturam."
And then, finally, Harry invoked the power of the Sun and Moon again to complete the circle, to complete the symmetry of the incantation.
"In nomen Solis et Lunae, elementa mea, hoc faciatis!"
Nothing happened. But then, nothing was supposed to happen until the end. And technically not even then – the real proof was in what happened after Harry applied the Salve to his eyeballs. Harry knew that. Still, it was a bit unnerving to complete an incantation like that only for nothing to happen.
Harry moved onto the next step. He needed to prepare the solvent. That was easy, something they'd done many times in lessons. It wasn't even all that different from what they had to do in potions, just a little more involved. Harry worked through his process slowly, methodically, so as not to get anything wrong. He did, after all, technically have an unlimited amount of time to complete the reaction.
Not that he felt like spending the next week or so sat in the alchemical laboratory.
With the solvent prepared Harry moved on to the first steps. The Salve of Clear Sight – or Ocular Augmentation, whichever term the alchemist preferred – was among the simplest of all alchemical works to produce, but it was still quite laborious. Even a highly optimised process would take hours – according to Mr Flamel, even the Grand Philosopher himself would take a few hours to get through it. Harry had to maintain a careful balance throughout the reaction, working his way up to the more volatile ingredients while ensuring a proper base for the reaction.
Never moving too quickly, nor too slowly.
So Harry got to work.
He needed to add the sericon to the solvent before adding any of the major ingredients, so he slipped it into the alchemical vessel carefully once the solvent had reached the correct temperature. Then Harry added the first bits of powdered gold and silver and gave the incantation once again.
All throughout the laboratory Harry could hear the others doing much the same thing. Dragonsfoot's deep, loud voice mixed with Hermione's, with Theodore's reedy voice in the background. It would be easy to get lost in the noise, spend ages listening to what everyone else was doing, so Harry forced himself to ignore them.
He took in a deep breath to steady himself, then coughed because of the acrid smoke that filled the air. Ms Platt moved around the lab watching and, occasionally, putting out more sticks of whatever it was that was burning. Harry didn't think they needed any more of that, since the air was thick with the smoke already, but she presumably knew what she was doing.
Even if it was making him cough and smelled exactly like Dee's cigarettes.
The Ministry witch, Griselda Marchbanks, moved through the laboratory at a much slower pace, stopping at each of the benches to watch what each student was doing before moving on. It was almost enough to put Harry off, but he found it easy enough to get lost in the process instead. He measured out powders to the half-ounce, and chopped, crushed, and cut herbs; he rendered troll fat and mashed it into a paste with the other ingredients; navigated the careful balance of temperatures and pressures necessary for different points in the reaction.
And throughout, Harry wove the incantation into his process. This was magic without a wand, a magic at once more primal and more sophisticated than any he had done before. There were no flashy effects; no sounds, sights, or smells other than those produced by the powders, liquids, and other ingredients; just carefully measured powders and liquids and the constant balancing between the competing forces he'd put together.
And so the day went on. There wasn't any opportunity to break for lunch, but Harry wouldn't have taken it anyway, as he couldn't leave the reaction alone. Didn't really want to even if he could, since he felt it was better to get it all done at once if at all possible. Still, the day progressed and Harry stayed stood at his alchemical workbench working through each step in his procedure carefully and methodically.
Not long after when lunch was supposed to be, Roger Malone finished his reaction. Ms Platt left the room and returned a minute or so later with Professor Dee, who went with Malone and Madam Marchbanks into an adjoining room, along with the product of Malone's reaction. Harry didn't have time to waste on thinking about Malone, though, as his own reaction still had quite a few more steps to work through.
Harry kept at it. About an hour or so after Malone, Boot finished, followed by Dragonsfoot. By then Harry had boiled off most of the unnecessary liquid, had added his lunar water, and was ready to add the last few ingredients. Those had to be added while the product was still over a fire, but he would need to quickly remove the alchemical vessel from the heat so as not to go too far.
Then, once the product had cooled, Harry would – hopefully – have a functional and powerful Salve of Clear Sight to work with. He just had to add the Verdigris, minium, and the final ingredient, ceruse, to balance the whole thing.
"A few more seconds," muttered Harry as he adjusted the strength of the flame and watched his reaction. He didn't want to add the Verdigris too soon… "There!"
Harry fed the blue-green Verdigris powder into the vessel, then added the small chunks of the earthy red minium metal. Once the minium had dissolved, Harry added a pale, powder-white, disc of ceruse to the reaction.
As soon as the ceruse disappeared Harry removed the vessel from the flames and settled in to wait for it to cool down. He kept careful watch over the temperature of the Salve as he needed to speak the incantation one final time at precisely the right moment. While he waited, he glanced around the room to see what the others were doing.
Theodore and Hermione seemed to be at a similar point in the reaction to Harry, although both slightly behind as far as Harry could see. Brocklehurst was further behind still, but not so far that Harry thought she'd go through dinner. Harry looked back at his alchemical vessel. The substance inside had cooled somewhat, was no longer liquid, and instead seemed to have formed a gooey paste.
And it had hit the correct temperature. There was no sense waiting.
It looks about right, Harry thought. Of course, the proof would be in the pasting, as if it didn't work – or burned out his eyes – he would have failed.
Harry spoke the incantation one final time.
"Sol et Luna, elementa mea, vestra potentia invoco. Oculos meos, in vestra luce renovet, ut possim videre clarius!" he said. "Anima mea, in vestra luce renascat, ut possim videre veritatem. Corpus meum, in vestra alchemia transmutetur, ut possim agnoscere meam veram naturam. In nomen Solis et Lunae, elementa mea, hoc faciatis."
Although there was no outward indication anything had happened, Harry felt like he'd performed the ritual correctly. At any rate, he'd completed it, and if he got it wrong enough that he'd failed… well, at least he had tried. So Harry stuck up his hand to call over Ms Platt so he could move through to the adjoining room to get his results.
"You're finished?" Ms Platt said when she approached the bench. "I'll just go get Professor Dee—prepare yourself, and your Salve, for the next step."
Harry nodded and set about doing just that. He removed the Salve from the alchemical vessel and placed it inside the golden chalice provided for just that purpose, and then joined Professor Dee and Madam Marchbanks in the adjoining room.
The room wasn't anything special. It was a simple store cupboard, with a basic bench, a sink, and shelves stacked to the ceilings. But there was a good space for Harry to place his things, and it did at least match the décor of the alchemical laboratory on the other side of the door – dull, mid browns with the occasional splash of dark brown. Directly opposite the door Harry had entered through was another door, one which presumably led outside.
"Place your Salve on the table in front of us, Potter," said Dee, sounding much less irritated than he had earlier on. "It looks like it's worked, but you never can tell. Now, you don't have to test your Salve if you don't feel able to. There's always a risk that an improperly performed ritual will produce something actively dangerous—a good few years ago my predecessor had a student blow out her own eyes with a bad Salve, was never the same after—but if you do refuse, you fail and can't progress to the next stage in the OWL. Do you understand?"
Harry looked down at the golden chalice containing his Salve. It looked like it had worked, although Harry couldn't really tell. But it fit the descriptions given by Flamel and Dee of what a successful Salve of Clear Sight should look like. The ritual he'd submitted to Dee had been 'likely to work' according to the professor, assuming Harry carried it out properly. He'd followed the steps he'd submitted, felt like he understood the work they'd gone through since the beginning of term. He glanced over at Madam Marchbanks, who stood watching the proceedings.
She seemed unconcerned with whatever Harry chose. Harry supposed that was fair – her job was to watch, and she got paid either way. It wasn't her eyes that could explode. Or burn away to nothing. Or…
"I'll test it," Harry said.
"Alright," said Dee. "You know what to do."
Harry nodded. He took off his glasses – hopefully for the last ever time – and coated his hand in the Salve of Clear Sight. Then, with his free hand, Harry kept his eyelids open while he applied the Salve to each of his eyeballs with his other hand.
It stung. Like getting stung by a hundred bees all at once, and with Harry's practise with conjuring bees the previous year, that was no exaggeration.
But stinging was the least of it. The pain radiated out from the centre of each eyeball until it filled his head. Harry wrenched his eyes shut as his eyeballs melted away behind his eyelids… only to reform and then melt away again and again.
"Shit!" Harry swore. He balled his fists. He didn't much care that he was in the presence of a Ministry official and Professor Dee – his eyes had melted away and grown back several times over the course of a minute.
And didn't seem at all inclined to stop doing just that any time soon.
Again and again Harry's eyes melted and grew back in a cyclical process that seemed like it would never end. Each time the pain grew worse, building up as a sharp pressure on the side of Harry's skull. Dimly, he felt like he was about to vomit.
I've failed, Harry thought. That's it. I've melted my eyes. I'm done for…
And then, slowly, for the final time Harry's eyes melted and grew back again. Then nothing. No stinging, no melting, no water, even. Just eyes.
"Open your eyes," said Marchbanks. "If you are able."
Gingerly, Harry opened his eyes for the first time.
Nothing. And then… fuzzy, indistinct images. No colour at all. Gradually, colour crept back into the world and the indistinct images resolved into something much sharper.
So I can still see, Harry thought to himself. That was something. Everyone traded horror stories about alchemical experiments gone badly wrong – Professor Dee included – but Harry had managed to come away with his eyesight intact. And given that he wasn't wearing his glasses but could still see, Harry thought his Salve had been a success.
At first, it was difficult to tell anything was different. He could see, and much better than he'd ever been able to see without his glasses. Better than he was ever able to see with his glasses on, Harry thought, but it was hard to tell.
As Harry glanced at the various different things in the adjoining room he was happy that at the very least his eyes still worked. He could pick out details on objects, scuffs and scratches and dirt. All very normal – at least when he'd had his glasses on. The browns of the storeroom popped a little more, and Harry could pick out delicate lettering on the labels of some bottles that he hadn't quite been able to see before, but there was nothing particularly spectacular about his new eyesight.
In fact, Harry felt almost a little disappointed. Pleased to no longer need his glasses, of course, except…
But then as he looked closer he realised he saw colours with more vibrance, noticed finer details on Dee's robes, the pores on his face… the wrinkles on Marchbank's skin, even.
The depths of the wrinkles, differences in the gradations of shadow…
Harry saw details on Dee's robes he felt sure had never been there before. Patches of stars, moons, and other shapes that Harry hadn't been able to make out. Hadn't even considered might be there. Patterns, even, of alternating colours. Far from wearing a slightly worn and boring brown robe as Harry had thought, Dee's robes were a cacophony of different colours, all shades of brown. Swirls and spots, a hem of a darker brown.
Before Harry had tried out the Salve, all he'd seen was a dull brown. Nothing at all interesting about Dee's robes, nothing that would even indicate there was something more to them. Blaise had even called them 'pedestrian and ugly' during their second year. But after using the Salve of Clear Sight Harry saw that that wasn't the case at all. The differences in the colours, the patterns, were so small, so subtle, that Harry literally couldn't have seen them before using the Salve. Afterwards, though… they stood out like a bonfire at night.
Like a vibrant rainbow, if every colour in a rainbow was a different kind of brown.
"So you still have eyes, then," Dee said. "Always a good sign. Do you need to put your glasses back on?"
Harry shook his head.
"No. It worked, Professor."
"Let's see how well it worked, shall we?" Dee said. "Look at my robes. How many stars are there along the hem of my sleeves?"
Harry looked and counted. He saw three stars around the hem of each sleeve, each one a different shade of brown.
"Three," Harry said. "Er, three on each sleeve, I mean."
"Good, good," said Dee. "Alright. Can you see the pattern on my chest?"
"Yes," Harry said. "It's a clockwise swirl."
"You have done rather well today, haven't you," murmured Dee. "Last one, then—what can you see above my feet?"
Harry glanced down.
The bottom of Dee's robes had moons, stars, and a pattern of interlocking knots. Some sort of Celtic cross, Harry thought.
"Six moons, three stars, and then around them there's like a pattern of knots. That Celtic cross thing, I think it might be," Harry said.
"Well, well, well," said Dee. "That's exactly right. You should know—most don't get such a good result. That you were able to see the knotwork means you couldn't have done any better. That definitely worked, Madam Marchbanks."
"I'm sure it did," said Marchbanks, "but you'll forgive me for verifying." She took out her wand and cast a silent spell on Harry's eyes, then nodded to herself. "Indeed, you now have perfect eyesight—more than perfect, I should say. I daresay you have a wonderful new world of colour to enjoy, from what I understand of the alchemist's art. Congratulations, Mr Potter, you have passed the first part of your OWL in Alchemy. You should be very proud."
"Thank you, Madam Marchbanks," Harry said, still staring. It was like seeing everything for the first time. Like… like how Harry imagined it would have been to go from black and white television, to colour – only thousands of times better. Not only could Harry dispense with his glasses for the foreseeable future, he had better eyesight than the normal wizard.
He could see colours other people literally couldn't imagine. Not bad for a day's work. Well, a few months' work, anyway.
Harry slipped his now-useless glasses into his robe pocket. He didn't think he'd throw them away, not yet at least. Perhaps it was silly, but Harry thought them worth keeping just to remind himself of what he'd achieved.
"You did well, Potter," Dee said. "Very well. I'll give you proper marks before your next lesson with me, but the proof of this one is literally staring at me. You'd better be going, though—and I've got to nip back into the fifth years' lab. No telling what's happening in there…"
Harry simply nodded. It was strange looking at Dee and seeing everything he'd normally see, but better, and without the rim of his glasses at the edge of his vision. That was something Harry would need to get used to.
"Thank you, Professor. Thanks again, Madam Marchbanks," Harry said. He left through the exit door while Marchbanks and Dee went back to the adjoining laboratory. Harry left the alchemy department right away. It was still a few hours until dinner, and not having had much at breakfast, Harry thought he might nip into the kitchens for a sneaky snack.
Harry took a more scenic route back to the dungeons just to try out his new eyes. It still felt strange not wearing his glasses, but any lingering strangeness was more than made up for by the new utility and sheer sense of pride in having completed his first ever alchemical work. He even managed to notice several new details in portraits and other bits of decoration that he'd never picked up on before. Colours seemed richer, more vibrant; he saw sharper, crisp lines where there were sharp lines; and could even discern smooth, difficult to see gradients.
Harry lingered at a painting depicting three wizards and a hippogriff at sunset overlooking the ocean, and just stared for a few moments. The depth of colour was fantastic, the attention to detail impeccable. Or perhaps it was only so to Harry's new eyes, and everyone else saw only a regular painting. The artist had definitely known what he was doing, though – Harry thought he could have appreciated that before the ritual, but afterwards…
Harry thought he might have been overwhelmed by the changes, but it felt natural. Easy, almost. His eyesight was better, stronger, he saw further and saw better than ever before… but he didn't seem to have gained a sensitivity to light. With some luck he'd have improved his night vision, but the magic of the alchemical ritual seemed to have improved everything Harry had wanted it to, and in just the right ways. Not only could he see more, further, and better, but he had the expanded mental capacity to understand and make use of what he saw, too.
Which made perfect sense, since the ritual had included ingredients for that particular effect, but knowing the theory was different from living the reality. Harry passed by one painting which he was sure had to have been painted by an alchemist as the colours were so delicate, so precise, that Harry didn't think anyone else could have managed it.
Harry wandered back through the castle almost aimlessly, meandering back to the dungeons. He did stop in the kitchens to grab a snack but spent the rest of his day simply looking at things in the Common Room.