Hogwarts: From Little Wizard to White Lord

Peter's core belief was simple: potions were not just mixtures—they were spells in liquid form.

He had first outlined this idea when he was just ten years old, compiling it into a formal paper and submitting it to the Extraordinary Potions journal, published by the Society of Extraordinary Apothecaries. It had stirred quite the controversy.

In the world of magic, Potions was considered a somewhat isolated discipline. To many professional potion-makers, the rising fragrance from a simmering cauldron was more than a chemical reaction—it was the essence of magic itself.

With a well stocked kit of potions, they believed one could achieve nearly anything without ever having to "foolishly wave a wand" or cast a "fancy spell."

In fact, many magical illnesses and spell-related injuries could only be treated through potions, not charms or hexes. This gave potion-makers a certain pride some would say arrogance when comparing themselves to other magical fields.

Peter's theory challenged all of that.

His claim that potion-making and spellcasting were fundamentally connected struck at the heart of their philosophy. While some progressive minds agreed with him, the backlash was strong. Many simply didn't want to see change, no matter how logical it was.

Some of his critics were traditionalists clinging to past glories. Others were gatekeepers who preferred to keep potion-making mysterious, as it made their status and knowledge harder to replace. And some were, as Professor Snape once wrote in a fiery letter to the editor, "utter fools."

Peter's approach was straightforward he believed magic should be consciously directed throughout the brewing process, the same way it is in wandwork. Potions, he argued, were not just ingredients reacting; they were spells unfolding, shaped by the intent, control, and rhythm of the brewer.

Like right now.

As Peter sprinkled the powdered snake fang into the crucible, he raised his wand and tapped the rim with a soft motion. A faint trace of magic flowed from the wand's tip into the simmering liquid.

Hermione, sitting beside him, leaned closer with curiosity. Magic itself was invisible to the naked eye, so all she could see was the powder settling into the potion.

"Venomous snake fang is the primary ingredient here," Peter murmured as he worked. "Its role in the formula is to absorb toxins. But remember, it doesn't neutralize anything on its own. We're not using the substance we're using its nature."

As he spoke, soft glowing particles began to rise from the powder. Then the floating dust settled, drawn down to the bottom of the cauldron like iron filings sinking into ink.

"With the adsorption process stabilized, we move on to detoxification. For a simple skin condition like scabies, we use horned slugs and dried nettles. Horned slugs are usually meant for healing surface wounds, and dried nettles are excellent for neutralizing what's been absorbed."

His wand tapped again, guiding the next ingredients into the brew with precision.

As the horned slugs dissolved and the nettles followed, faint shimmering trails curled beneath the surface. Pinkish and gentle, like soft silk drifting through water, the potion began to glow from within.

Hermione clutched her book tightly, her eyes wide as her mouth parted slightly in awe.

She whispered, "Those glowing lines…"

Peter nodded without taking his eyes off the mixture.

"Yes. Those are the material properties," he said. "I used magic to draw them out, just enough for you to see. In the standard recipe, that final step the porcupine quill is meant to extract those same properties. But the quill doesn't treat anything. It just reveals what's already there. My method skips that by guiding the magic myself."

Hermione blinked, speechless.

Then Peter turned down the flame beneath the cauldron and stirred five times in a slow, deliberate clockwise motion.

"Exactly five. Not four, not six. That's what I meant earlier about the ritual. In potion-making, numbers matter. Patterns matter. They complete the spell."

He paused and tilted the cauldron slightly for her to look inside.

"See for yourself."

Hermione leaned over and peered down into the potion. Her eyes sparkled in the glow.

Inside the crucible, the potion originally layered in different colors began to shift.

With five precise clockwise stirs and a graceful flick of Peter's wand, the mixture started to transform.

The swirling hues blended together, and in just moments, the potion settled into a brilliant blue. It was clear, bright, and cool in appearance, without a single trace of residue or murkiness.

It looked even better than the finished example shown in the textbook.

Before Hermione could even express her amazement, a shadow fell over the table.

Snape glided over like a silent bat, his dark robes barely making a sound.

He leaned in to inspect the potion. For a moment, something flickered in his usually expressionless eyes was it surprise?

Without a word, he dipped two fingers into the potion, lifted them to his nose, and inhaled.

There was no acrid scent, no lingering sharpness from porcupine quills.

He looked at Peter with a sharp gaze.

"There's no trace of the usual pungency. Did you modify the recipe?"

Peter nodded calmly. "Yes, Professor."

"You used that magic extraction method you mentioned in your paper last year?"

Peter gave a modest smile. "I did. Though at the moment, it only works for simpler potions like this one. The more complex the brew, the harder it becomes to fully understand each ingredient's magical property. It takes time lots of observation, experimentation, and study."

He glanced down at the cauldron, then back at Snape.

"But I think the theory holds. Traditional recipes often rely on one or more additional ingredients near the end just to extract properties from others. That creates waste. Sometimes, those extra ingredients even cause side effects... or toxicity. Of course, if the potion is effective, small drawbacks are tolerated. But if there's a cleaner way... isn't that better?"

Snape didn't respond right away.

He stood in silence, staring at the cauldron as the pale steam drifted up.

Then, without another word, he turned and moved on.

As Snape turned to leave, his voice rang out across the dungeon:

"Ten points to Slytherin. Peter Weasley, Granger, assist Longbottom and Finnigan. I suspect they may actually be trolls... Ron Weasley, are you daydreaming again? Why not take a page from your brother's book?"

Harry heard Ron mutter beside him, "I don't want to be like him."

Harry didn't respond right away. He stared at the back of Peter's head, who was already walking toward Neville and Seamus.

After a moment, Harry leaned closer and whispered, "I want to partner with Peter in the next Potions class."

Ron shot him a betrayed look. "Traitor."

Meanwhile, Peter and Hermione approached Neville and Seamus' desks as Snape had instructed.

Neville looked like he was on the verge of tears. His face was red, and he was blinking rapidly.

Snape had scolded him so harshly that he had completely lost focus during class. On top of that, he had been docked five house points. The weight of it was too much.

"I'm sorry, Peter," Neville said miserably, voice trembling. "I'm just no good at this... I can't remember anything."

"It's alright, Neville," Peter said gently, kneeling beside the cauldron to take a look. "Just stick to the textbook steps and don't panic. That's the most important part."

Perhaps because Peter had helped him once before, Neville instinctively trusted him. Even if Peter was from Slytherin.

This simple, kind-hearted boy despite his tears and weak memory was sincere and eager to learn. Beneath all the nerves, he was probably one of the most honest students in the year.

At the very least, Neville followed instructions precisely when Peter was guiding him. As long as he had someone he trusted, he listened closely and obeyed every word without hesitation.

Seamus, on the other hand, was far more unpredictable. Whether it was nerves or a hidden streak of chaos, even with Hermione monitoring him closely, he nearly caused an accident at the worst possible moment.

It happened during the final step of the potion.

Instead of extinguishing the fire before adding the porcupine quills, Seamus carelessly tossed in an entire handful while the cauldron was still bubbling.

Hermione shouted.

But Peter had already noticed the mistake.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

With quick reflexes, Peter cast the levitation charm, intercepting the falling quills just inches above the cauldron.

Had they landed, the classroom would have been in serious danger.

Porcupine quills, when added over high heat, react violently turning the potion into a corrosive substance capable of melting through metal, and more often than not, exploding in the process.

Professor Snape, who had already been frowning in Seamus' direction, used the incident as fuel for his growing disdain.

Without hesitation, he deducted more points from Gryffindor, his robes swishing behind him as he swept toward his desk.

By the end of class, the Gryffindor morale was at an all-time low.

On the way back to the common room, Seamus walked beside Hermione, still trying to defend himself.

"I was just too nervous, alright? Snape was hovering near me the whole time. I couldn't think straight. The pressure was unreal!"

Hermione's expression was stiff, her brows furrowed.

"That's not an excuse," she said crisply. "The professor didn't force you to ignore basic safety steps. Why didn't you turn off the flame first?"

Embarrassed and annoyed, Seamus huffed, turned his head, and refused to say another word.

Ron, who had been watching everything with barely concealed amusement, leaned over and said to Harry in a low voice, "She's way too serious. Always making people feel small."

Before Harry could respond, he noticed Hermione walking toward them. He quickly changed the subject.

"Tomorrow's the weekend. Want to visit Hagrid?"

Hagrid had sent Harry a note earlier that day, inviting him to stop by his cabin for tea.

But Ron clearly missed the hint.

"Sure," he said. "Just as long as we don't bring her. I don't want to hear someone telling me every five minutes that I'm doing this wrong or that wrong."

Hermione, overhearing the last part, pressed her lips tightly together. The look on her face was eerily similar to Professor McGonagall's when she was about to assign detention.

Without a word, she stepped sharply to the side, brushed past the boys, and bumped Ron hard enough to make him stumble.

She marched off down the corridor, stiff-backed and silent.

Harry watched her retreating figure and let out a sigh.

"Ron, you shouldn't have said that."

Ron made a face and let out two small grunts, but he didn't argue.

He knew Harry was right.

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