Vaughn Weasley's fundamental philosophy had always been simple:
Potions are equivalent to spells.
He'd formed the idea when he was ten years old, refined it into a thesis, and published it in the Extraordinary Potioneer's Society Journal—Extraordinary Potions.
That paper was the core reason he'd become so infamous.
Most potioneers viewed their craft as separate—elevated—distinct from every other form of magic. According to them, a simmering cauldron and rising steam were the purest expression of wizardry.
A true potioneer could achieve marvels with a handful of ingredients and a single flame—no wand-waving, no spell incantations, no flashy theatrics.
Potions healed what spells could not.
Potions cured injuries spellwork only worsened.
That naturally bred pride.
So Vaughn's thesis—suggesting potions should incorporate more active magic, the way spells do—was seen as heresy.
Not everyone opposed him.
But among those who did, the reasons varied:
Some were traditionalists, clinging stubbornly to old systems.
Some profited from potions remaining mysterious—monopolies thrived in obscurity.
And some…
Well, Professor Snape himself had said it best in a published letter:
"Some are simply idiots."
Demonstration
Vaughn sprinkled powdered snake fangs into the cauldron, then tapped the rim lightly with his wand. Magic pulsed—subtle, barely visible—and a shimmer ran through the potion.
Hermione, who had been observing in absolute silence, leaned in. Though she couldn't see magic directly, she noticed the way the fang powder reacted.
"Snake fangs," Vaughn murmured, "are used to absorb toxins. But remember—they don't literally do that. It's their magical properties we activate."
As he spoke softly, faint specks of light rose from the fangs like glowing dust, while the dull residue drifted to the bottom of the potion.
"Now that the toxins are absorbed," Vaughn continued, "we move to detoxification and regeneration. Dried nettles neutralise the toxins, and horned slugs help repair the tissue."
He added the next ingredients, tapping the cauldron again. More pinkish currents bloomed beneath the surface of the brew.
Hermione clutched her textbook.
"Is that…?" she whispered.
"Yes," Vaughn nodded. "Those are the essences. I'm drawing them out with magic. Normally, you'd use porcupine quills to extract them—but since we're letting magic perform the extraction, we skip the quills entirely."
He extinguished the flame and began stirring.
"One… two… three… four… five. No more, no less."
"Why five?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
"Ritual," Vaughn said. "Numbers matter in potions. Five represents balance—purification. You'll see."
At the fifth stir and a final flick of his wand—
The potion cleared.
The cloudy, uneven mixture transformed into a smooth, luminous blue liquid.
Cool light shimmered from its surface—cleaner and more perfect than the textbook illustration.
Hermione's jaw dropped.
Before she could speak—
Snape drifted over like a vampire sensing prey.
He leaned in, his face only inches from the potion.
For once, his black eyes reflected genuine surprise.
He dipped a finger in, sniffed it, then turned sharply to Vaughn.
"There is no trace," he said slowly, "of the porcupine quills' pungent stench. You altered the recipe?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Using the magical extraction method you proposed last year?"
"Yes," Vaughn replied with a calm smile. "But it only works on simpler brews so far. Complex potions have intricate ingredient structures—magic interacts with them in unpredictable ways. To refine them, I'll need far more experimentation."
He hesitated—then added, gently confident:
"But I still believe it's worthwhile. Extra ingredients added solely for extraction change the potion's nature—sometimes even produce toxicity. Wizards accept the side effects because it's the only workable method… but wouldn't it be better if we didn't need the extra ingredients at all?"
Snape said nothing.
But his silence was louder than praise.
Halfway across the classroom, he finally exhaled:
"Ten points to Slytherin.
Weasley. Granger. Assist Longbottom and Finnigan—before they brew something that dissolves the desks.
Ron Weasley—are you daydreaming again? Try learning from your brother."
Ron's muttered reply was immediate and sulky:
"I'm not learning from him."
Harry didn't answer at once.
After a long pause, he whispered:
"…Next Potions class, I want to be Vaughn's partner."
Ron choked.
"TRAITOR!"
Disaster Prevention Unit: Vaughn & Hermione
Snape's instructions placed Vaughn and Hermione beside Neville and Seamus.
Neville looked half-dead from stress.
"I—I'm sorry, Vaughn… I tried, I really did… I just—forget everything…"
"It's alright, Neville," Vaughn said gently. "Follow the steps. Take your time. That's what potions are—patience."
Neville brightened immediately, hanging onto Vaughn's every word.
Seamus, however—
Well, Seamus had a natural gift for accidental explosions.
Even with Hermione hovering anxiously, he still managed to nearly doom them all.
He tossed an entire fistful of porcupine quills into the cauldron—without extinguishing the flame.
Hermione shrieked.
Neville nearly fainted.
Had Vaughn not reacted instantly, things would've gotten catastrophic.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The quills froze in midair, barely inches from disaster.
Porcupine quills added over high heat could turn a mild healing brew into a corrosive acid capable of eating straight through the desks.
The moment Snape saw it, Gryffindor lost another five points.
After Class
On the walk back to Gryffindor Tower, Seamus kept making excuses.
"I swear, I just panicked! Snape hovering behind me—who wouldn't panic?!"
Hermione rounded on him.
"Then why didn't you focus? Why didn't you turn off the flame? It says so clearly in the instructions!"
Seamus wilted, embarrassed into silence.
Ron nudged Harry.
"She always goes too far. It's like she enjoys embarrassing people."
Harry spotted Hermione approaching again and quickly changed the subject.
"Hagrid invited us to his hut this weekend. Should we go tomorrow?"
Ron nodded—then promptly ruined the moment:
"Sure—but not if she's coming. I don't need someone nagging me about every little thing!"
Hermione stopped dead.
Her face went cold.
Very cold.
"…"
Then—with a sharp shoulder-check—she shoved past Ron so hard he staggered.
Harry winced.
"Ron… you really shouldn't have said that."
Ron muttered, flustered and defensive—but didn't deny it.
(End of Chapter )
PS : Porcupine Quills (Potion Hazard) – Adding them before extinguishing the flame causes volatile reactions.