Theo perched on a low stool beside the study table, sunlight spilling across the room. On the table lay small cauldrons, vials, and jars of herbs he had carefully tended in the suitcase: Wiggentree leaves, Knotgrass shoots, Valerian roots. Flicker flitted near the edge, and Twig clung to a branch, watching quietly as Lum's glow bathed the work surface.
"Ready, Theo?" Tina asked, her voice warm. "Today, we'll begin basic infusions. Nothing dangerous — just small potions to teach you timing, precision, and observation."
Theo nodded, eyes wide with anticipation. "I've been waiting for this."
Tata, the house-elf, carefully placed a tiny stirring rod in his hand and a small measuring scale beside him. "Accuracy is everything, Theo. Too much of one root, too little of another, and your potion may fail—or worse, react unpredictably."
Theo began by chopping a sprig of Wiggentree leaves into fine pieces, weighing them on the scale. He measured a tiny portion of Knotgrass next, carefully slicing a Valerian root into uniform segments. Following Tina's instructions, he placed each ingredient into a small cauldron filled with precisely half a cup of distilled water.
"Stir clockwise, slowly, for three full minutes," Tina instructed. "Watch for color changes or rising bubbles. Timing and consistency are as important as the ingredients."
Theo dipped the stirring rod into the liquid, moving carefully and evenly. Within moments, the water began to shimmer faintly, a pale green hue spreading through the mixture. He held his breath.
"Good," Tina said. "Notice the shimmer? That is the plant's active essence infusing into the liquid. Keep stirring steadily. Observe carefully."
He adjusted the heat under the cauldron, keeping the flame low and even. Tiny bubbles formed along the surface, releasing a faint, earthy aroma. Flicker hopped closer, tilting its head as if examining the process, while Twig and Lum remained still, casting a quiet, observant presence.
Over the next hour, Theo experimented carefully under Tina's supervision. He varied the stirring speed slightly, adjusted the flame, and timed each infusion precisely. He watched as some combinations produced subtle golden sparks along the surface, others emitted gentle silver fumes.
Occasionally, a potion would darken too quickly or bubble excessively — mistakes he quickly corrected by cooling the mixture or removing small portions to adjust.
"This is excellent practice," Tina said. "Even minor miscalculations teach you about magical ingredients and their interactions. Every potion is a combination of skill, timing, and careful observation."
Theo nodded, wiping his brow. "So… it's not just adding things together. I have to watch them, measure them, and adjust if needed."
"Exactly," Tina said. "You are learning to read the potion, not force it. That is how real magic works. Patience, precision, and observation — those are the tools of a skilled practitioner."
By late afternoon, Theo had successfully brewed a small vial of pale green Valerian-Wiggentree infusion. He carefully poured it into a labeled vial and examined the color, consistency, and faint shimmer of the liquid.
"We did it," he said quietly. Flicker chirped, hopping onto his shoulder. "I think you'd approve, Twig," he added with a small smile.
Tina knelt beside him. "Perfect, Theo. This potion is simple, but it demonstrates several important lessons: measuring accurately, controlling heat, stirring consistently, and observing minute changes. The plants themselves don't react to words — only to the proper preparation. That is the true skill."
Theo leaned back, exhausted but satisfied. He cleaned his tools, returned the plants to their compartments in the suitcase, and arranged the cauldrons carefully. Flicker nestled in a moss bed, Twig rested comfortably on a branch, and Lum dimmed its glow for the evening.
Tina watched quietly, a soft smile on her face. "You're growing, Theo. Not just in skill, but in understanding. Every potion, every plant, every observation builds the foundation for everything that comes next."
Theo pressed his hand gently against the edge of the suitcase. "We'll be ready," he whispered. "All of us.
"
Outside, the wind rustled the trees, carrying distant reminders that the world beyond Newt's house was growing darker. But inside, life thrived — measured, precise, and carefully tended by a young boy learning the real meaning of magical care. Theodore Scamander was beginning to understand patience, skill, and the responsibility that comes with magic, one careful brew at a time.