Horace Slughorn couldn’t be happier in his life. He had a stable job now, and had just fulfilled his life’s dream. He’d finally taken the position of the Potions Master at Hogwarts. He’d managed to get rid of the lowly job of Potions Apprentice in the Apothecary at Hogsmeade, and catapulted himself into the big league. He no longer had to struggle with customers who knew nothing of potions at all, or who asked too many questions to be even bothered with.
At the age of twenty-four, that was a major achievement, for any wizard. Slughorn was pretty sure he was the youngest professor at Hogwarts, until he came to know of Albus Dumbledore, just twenty-two. A little jealousy was natural, but along with it came a lot of joy and pride. He had nothing more to ask for, he was satisfied.
Or maybe not. Greed is a base nature of human being; it cannot be ignored for a long time. Satisfaction gave way to boredom, at least in Slughorn’s life. After just a week of teaching, he had begun to grow tired of the job. This was the same dungeon that he’d learnt in, and it was still the same. Nothing had changed at all, except the faces that set foot into the place. He began to grow tired of it. It wasn’t unusual either, as he’d spent almost all of his years at Hogwarts in the dungeons, experimenting with potions, under the watchful eye of Professor Dagworth.
It was a shame Professor Dagworth died due to a cauldron explosion early that year, but Slughorn was secretly pleased about it. Had it not been for that accident, there would’ve been no chance of fulfilling his dream, let alone this early in life. As he sat one Friday evening in his private quarters thinking over the occurrences of the past few weeks, he thought to himself, “What if I stagnate? By teaching the same potions over and over again, won’t I lose my ingenuity?” This thought scared him no end, and he wanted to do something to rectify it right away. What could he do? He had to do something new, something challenging”something that would keep him away from stagnating.
And then the base nature of greed combined with his need for adventure. The idea struck him after some thought, but when it did, there was nothing which could prevent him from executing it. Nothing at all.
He wanted to prepare the rare potion, Felix Felicis.
From what he’d read, Felix Felicis was a potion that granted whomever drinks it unusually good luck. Of course, such a potion was extremely rare and difficult to brew, and took six months to mature. He’d seen the bottles in the Apothecary, and he’d always wished he could make that once. Now, he had the perfect opportunity to do so. Hogwarts had the means to supply his ingredients, and he had ample time. And it was the best way to get himself “fit”, as he called it.
So he began, the very next day, on the grand potioneering adventure. Setting up the black copper oxide cauldron carefully on the small fire of portable flames set up in one corner of his room in the dungeons, he began his long, arduous journey towards the enticing lady luck. A visit to the potions stores was called for, a long one indeed.
After setting the cauldron and filling it up with water to heat and then rinse, he left for the musty storage area. As he entered inside, a thick layer of dust tickled his nose, causing him to sneeze massively. Dust flew all over the place, blurring his vision. The huge storage area was rarely visited at all, he knew, though he was one of its frequent visitors when he was studying here. The potion ingredients were usually shifted to a storage cupboard in the main dungeon, for the purposes of potion-making in the classes, and it was done by magic. No one seemed to have stepped into the dungeons since he’d last set foot into it, and casting a simple bubble-head charm, he began his search for the ingredients he required.
First were the simple day-to-day ingredients”gillyweed, and fluxweed, which would be required time and again during the brewing of the potion. The gillyweed was going to aid the combination of two extremely rare ingredients”Dragon blood and the Quicksilver, the root of the potion. They needed the life-giver which only gillyweed could extract from the water. Slughorn slowly reached out to the back of the shelf, in the cool corner where it was stored in iron bottles, and pulled out one half-empty bottle. He wouldn’t need any more than that, he decided. Taking care to cast a Cooling Charm over the area just as a precaution, he set to collect the dragon blood. After taking the four basic ingredients from the storage area, he hurried to his room again, impatient to begin.
Washing the cauldron thoroughly and drying it took around quarter of an hour, after which he lit a real flame underneath the cauldron to supply more heat. After all, this potion required strong heating to ensure the re-combination of the dissociated ingredients. He kept another cauldron by his side, knowing he would need it later. Beginning to stir the gillyweed in the boiling water in the cauldron with a steady pace, he glanced once at the bulky tattered text by his side, which contained the instructions for brewing the potion in faint, blue lettering. So far, so good. Nothing went wrong, as the essence of gillyweed slowly began to mingle with the water, giving it a slightly greenish tinge. He was done for the day.
The next day, he added the Quicksilver, drop by drop through a funnel, as he constantly stirred the fizzling cauldron below. The green was turning into a murky grey. And then, he began the most important part of the process. The Dragon blood. It was to be added in precisely three measures, and even a drop more could cause a major failure. Precision was the key. Slowly adding the dragon blood into the cauldron, he stirred, slowly. Clockwise thrice, anti-clockwise thrice. It was extremely imperative that he get this basic mixture right, for this was the base of his entire potion, this was where he could easily go wrong.
Confident of his success, he non-verbally transferred the contents into the other cauldron by his side. And then, another charm ensured that the cauldron would be stirring itself for another three months, at least, to let the murky grey-green mixture to turn into a bright red. The degeneration of both ingredients took time, and Slughorn didn’t mind the wait as much. After all, the rewards to be gained were more enticing.
Every alternate day, he added fluxweed, and gave it an additional stir with his copper stirrer, to increase the reactivity. It was an enchanting, as the potion stirred itself into a green, then silver, and then bright red. Time seemed to fly by, as Slughorn grew more and more jittery. The third month arrived, and he knew he was half-way through.
Slughorn added the pieces of transmuted gold into the cauldron next, and stirred it again, for another month, adding small pieces of amphibian and salamander skin. They were potent enough to kill any impurity that might have made its way in. The salamander blood had effects which could cause the potion to behave extremely violently, and it was a difficult task to manage leaping and bouncing flakes of potion. A tear of a phoenix however, cured that, calming the potion and allowing it to be stirred.
Almost five and a half months had passed now, and it was time for the final, finishing touches. Slughorn transferred the “violent” contents of the cauldron back again to the first cauldron and let it stagnate. It needed to take over the effects caused by the strong ingredients within the cauldron, and mingle to such an extent, that it would be stable. Slughorn enclosed the cauldron in an air-tight atmosphere”there was already too much of the live-giving gas within. He knew it was ready at last, though he didn’t know if it would work. The text book said he was right, but texts were different from what was actually done, never the same.
After the designated fortnight, he went to his precious cauldron, and dispelled the charm on it. Soon enough, the golden potion began to spew forth drops which leaped up in the air. Measuring precisely a quarter of a cup, he poured it into a vial, and drank exactly half of it.
The next thing he knew, he was floating lightly through the air, blissfully unaware of the troubles that he had. He knew he was right, he’d succeeded.
Felix Felicis by Hermoine Jean Granger
Story Notes:
Thanks to Vittoria for all her help with this fic! It wouldn't be here if it weren't for her wonderful help.
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks for reading!