The pervasive exhaustion had escalated from a constant companion to an oppressive shroud. Viktor found himself fighting to stay conscious in Professor Binns' lectures, his head heavy, threatening to loll and betray his stolen nocturnal hours. Claire, usually the picture of meticulousness, was dropping her quill with alarming frequency during Transfiguration, ink splattering across her parchment like tiny, exasperated curses. Hailey's jaw ached from the sheer effort of suppressing uncontrollable yawns at mealtimes, her eyes constantly watering from the strain. The mental and physical toll of their covert operations, relentlessly compounded by the ceaseless flow of first-year assignments, had pushed them to their absolute breaking point. The Restfulness Potion had ceased to be a mere convenience; it was now an urgent, desperate necessity, and they had just acquired its formula from the perilous depths of the Restricted Section.
Compounding their fatigue was the new, agonizing weight of Professor Snape's task: the two-foot summary of the Vellum-Veiled Elixir. The text itself was a monument to tedium. Its language was archaic, its principles obscure, and its historical context utterly irrelevant to anything they cared about. It detailed the esoteric alchemy of using ancient vellum scrolls to absorb magical interference from other texts, a process so specialized and seemingly useless that its very existence seemed designed to punish. Each paragraph they deciphered felt like pulling teeth, each obscure reference another brick in the wall of their weariness. The sheer contrast between this mind-numbing labor and their exhilarating, forbidden quest for the Hogwarts map was a constant, bitter irony. They were meticulously documenting a potion whose sole purpose was to aid in reading other magically damaged texts, while the potion that would aid them was merely a few lines of scribbled notes in Viktor's possession.
They spent hours in the main library, hunched over heavy, approved potions texts, trying to glean any shred of context for the Vellum-Veiled Elixir, anything to stretch its meagre facts into two feet of coherent summary. They muttered under their breaths, ran hands through already messy hair, and took frequent, exasperated breaks.
"This is madness," Hailey grumbled one afternoon, slamming a thick volume shut, sending a puff of dust into the air. "He knows this thing is useless, right? He just wants to see us suffer."
Claire sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Or he's testing our resolve. Our ability to adhere to a task, however pointless."
Viktor, whose System had already digitized the entire Vellum-Veiled Elixir text and was cross-referencing it with countless other historical magical documents, still felt the mental drain. His brain was churning through data, but his body screamed for rest. He wondered, fleetingly, if Snape had deliberately sent them on a wild goose chase. No, it wasn't Snape's style to be so obvious. He preferred subtle cruelty. This was probably just a random, unfortunate convergence of their needs and his demands.
It was during one such agonizing library session, as Hailey was listlessly flipping through a dusty, general Potions textbook – a common volume titled 'Everyday Elixirs for the Modern Witch and Wizard' – that her eyes caught something familiar. She had been vaguely looking for common ingredients that might be used in the Vellum-Veiled Elixir, a desperate attempt to pad out the summary, when a small, often-overlooked section heading jumped out at her: "Minor Revitalization Brews."
"Wait a second," she murmured, leaning closer, her brow furrowed. "No way."
Viktor and Claire looked up, their faces etched with the familiar lines of fatigue. "What is it?" Claire asked, her voice flat.
Hailey tapped the page, her finger trembling slightly. "It's... it's a Restfulness Potion. A simplified version."
Viktor leaned over, his eyes scanning the page. His internal System instantly recognized the formula, noting it as a less potent, more common variant of the one they'd painstakingly copied from the Restricted Section. The text explicitly stated it was a common, if rarely needed, remedy for extreme exhaustion, accessible to any witch or wizard with basic brewing skills. There was even a small caveat: "Prolonged or excessive use may lead to a mild, temporary reliance on the brew for energy."
For a moment, they simply stared at the page in stunned silence. Then, a shared, strangled groan escaped their lips, a sound somewhere between disbelief and utter exasperation.
"You're telling me," Hailey burst out, a hysterical edge to her voice, "we went through all that?... for something that was in a first-year textbook?!"
Claire buried her face in her hands, a long, drawn-out groan vibrating through her. "The irony is so thick, I could brew it into a potion."
Viktor actually let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, a sound devoid of mirth. "It appears our plan was, in this instance, rather... over-engineered." He felt a profound sense of bitter amusement. Had Snape known? Was this some elaborate test of how far they'd go for a useless research project, knowing the true prize was mundane? No, he quickly dismissed the thought. Snape was cruel, not so... comically indirect. This was just sheer, monumental, frustrating coincidence. And it was infuriating.
Despite their intense exasperation, the discovery spurred them into immediate action. The ingredients for this simplified Restfulness Potion were indeed common: powdered moonbeam, crushed Sopophorous beans (already a staple in first-year Potions), a dash of powdered dragon claw (easily available), and a few drops of Flobberworm mucus (also standard fare). Gathering them from their own potion kits and the general ingredient cupboard in the Slytherin dorms was a swift and uncomplicated process.
They retreated to their usual secret brewing spot, a cramped, rarely used storage room off their common room that offered the perfect blend of privacy and access. Viktor took charge, his earlier frustration melting away, replaced by the cool, precise focus of a master at work. His System had already analyzed the simplified formula, comparing it to the more complex Restricted Section version, identifying key steps and potential pitfalls. He moved with a practiced ease that belied his age, his wand tracing intricate patterns as he stirred the potion in a small, non-descript cauldron. He added ingredients with perfect timing, adjusted the flame with a flick of his wrist, and chanted the incantations with quiet confidence. There was none of the hesitant trial-and-error that plagued their invisibility cloak enchantments; this was a clean, decisive success.
Within thirty minutes, the potion was complete. It glowed faintly, a soft, translucent liquid the color of pale moonlight, with tiny, almost imperceptible silver motes swirling within. It emitted no discernible scent, but a faint hum of controlled magic.
Viktor poured three small, steaming vials. "Right," he said, handing one to Claire and Hailey. "Moment of truth."
They looked at the vials, a mix of apprehension and desperate hope in their eyes. Their fatigue was a physical ache, a constant dull throb behind their eyes. Without another word, they raised the vials to their lips.
The taste was surprisingly light and refreshing, like cool, crisp mountain air with a hint of something sweet, like faint honey. It wasn't unpleasant.
And then, it hit. Not like a jolt, but a gentle, profound wave washing over them. It began in their extremities, a tingling sensation, then spread inwards. The heavy drag in their limbs vanished. The ache in their muscles dissipated. The dull throb behind their eyes simply... ceased. It wasn't sleep; it was the feeling of having just woken from the most perfect, rejuvenating sleep imaginable. Their minds, previously fogged with exhaustion, cleared with startling clarity. Ideas seemed to flow freely, connections snapped into place, and the sheer mental weight they'd carried for weeks lifted. A profound sense of lightness, alertness, and boundless energy surged through them.
Hailey let out a soft, almost giddy gasp. "I... I feel amazing." She bounced on the balls of her feet, an unfamiliar spring in her step.
Claire's eyes widened, a rare, unburdened smile spreading across her face. "It's like I've slept for a hundred years, and every one of them was bliss." She stretched, her spine cracking with satisfying pops.
Viktor felt the familiar hum of his System accelerate, his processing power unfettered by exhaustion. He felt sharp, keenly aware, ready for anything. The euphoria was infectious. They exchanged wide, disbelieving smiles, an almost childish delight bubbling up from their newfound energy. For the first time in weeks, they felt truly alive. This changed everything. Their nocturnal map-making, previously limited by physical endurance and mental fog, could now be pursued with tireless, focused energy.
By Monday morning, a meticulously compiled scroll lay on Snape's desk. It was precisely two feet long, its parchment immaculately clean, the script precise and elegant thanks to Claire's practiced hand. Interspersed throughout were complex diagrams and theoretical breakdowns of the Vellum-Veiled Elixir, copied directly from Viktor's System's absorption of the Restricted Section text.
Snape took the scroll as they left his classroom, his hand reaching for it with his usual disdainful air. He glanced at it dismissively at first, as if expecting to find it riddled with errors or simply inadequate. Then, his eyes seemed to catch on something. He paused, his thin lips flattening further, his black eyes narrowing as he read a few sentences. An almost imperceptible nod followed, a subtle twitch of his jaw the only outward sign of his thoughts.
He didn't offer a word of praise, as expected. He merely gave them a curt nod, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Adequate."
It was all they needed. No criticism, no sneer, no revocation of privileges. It was, for Snape, the highest form of acknowledgment. Another quiet victory.
With the burdensome task off their shoulders and their bodies now humming with boundless, rejuvenated energy, their minds were entirely focused on the grand project ahead. The quest for the Hogwarts map beckoned, no longer a daunting, exhausting endeavor, but an exciting, achievable goal. They had the tools: the undetectable cloaks, the human-detection spell, and now, the tireless energy of the Restfulness Potion. The ancient mysteries of Hogwarts lay waiting, ready to be unearthed by three first-years finally operating at their full, cunning potential.