The dungeons, eternally damp and smelling of burnt potion ingredients, held a familiar chill. Since that first, unsettling Potions class where Albert had effortlessly outperformed the entire seventh-year cohort, Professor Snape had adopted a new strategy toward the first-year Gryffindor: complete, chilling indifference.
Snape didn't reprimand Albert, didn't challenge him, and didn't even acknowledge his existence, which was perhaps the highest form of cold contempt the Potions Master could manage. Albert found this far preferable to the man's toxic attention; being successfully ignored by Snape was, in its own way, a minor victory.
As the class concluded, Albert efficiently bottled his perfect sample and joined George. They took advantage of the brief free time before lunch to make a detour to the library.
The thin, scandalous volume, Simple Alchemy, was silently returned to Madam Pince. Albert then sought out a replacement, a much thicker, more respectable tome he had identified earlier: Extractions, Separations, and Potions.
Albert initially suspected the book was purely an advanced Potions text, given the title. However, upon cracking the cover and scanning the chapter headings, he was genuinely shocked to discover its true nature: it was a foundational text on the Alchemical Arts, detailing the profound overlap between the two disciplines.
The book posited that while Alchemy was the pursuit of elemental change and permanence, and Potions the art of controlled transformation through ingredients, the two were inseparable.
Many crucial potion ingredients required precise alchemical processing before they could be used effectively. Indeed, some of the most powerful healing agents in the magical world weren't brewed at all, but were obtained through complex, alchemically driven extractions.
The most critical example cited was White Savory Essence (derived from the Dictamnus herb). The book contained a detailed, complex procedure on how to extract the pure essence from the herb.
The resulting essence was an incredibly potent, fast-acting wound healing agent—far superior to using the raw herb or incorporating it into a simple potion. This process, requiring precise temperatures, solvents, and fixation methods, was described as pure, low-level alchemy.
Albert's mind immediately flashed back to the ridiculous, Zonko-penned recipe for the Garlic Cross, which detailed extracting garlic oil with alcohol and beeswax.
He quickly shook off the comparison, suppressing a laugh. The extraction of Dictamnus Essence was a serious, precise art; the extraction of pungent kitchen herbs was merely a pungent joke.
He flipped past the diagrams and formulae, still focused on the pages detailing the serious applications of extraction.
Suddenly, a loud, synchronized sigh of defeat broke through the quiet reading room.
Fred and Lee Jordan returned from their foray to the kitchens, looking utterly deflated. They slumped into the chairs next to George, throwing their hands up in a gesture of utter futility.
"Total, absolute failure," Fred muttered, running a hand through his hair.
As Albert had predicted, the House-Elves, being deeply dedicated and strangely traditional masters of the Hogwarts pantry, had refused to allow the students to take large quantities of garlic for an unspecified, "non-culinary" purpose.
The House-Elves ran the kitchen with military-grade efficiency and did not appreciate their precious, freshly ordered ingredients being wasted on unproven, vaguely defined Defense Against the Dark Arts research, as the twins had vaguely described their mission.
"I warned you both," Albert said, not looking up from his book. He stirred the air where his cocoa mug had been, a gesture of casual, non-committal wisdom. "They aren't going to let you walk off with their supply of raw ingredients."
"Are you insane?" Fred looked at Albert with wide-eyed disbelief. "Do you think we're going to write home and ask them to send us half a pound of garlic for a 'secret project?' If Mum saw that request, we'd be flogged with a feather duster the moment we step off the train for Christmas break."
"No, I think Mum would probably ask you to skip school entirely and stay home to manage the new garlic farm she set up in the garden, assuming she didn't send a Howler first," George added miserably, leaning his head on his hand.
Sourcing the ingredient from home was clearly a non-starter, even for the sake of their grand entrepreneurial scheme. The trio looked collectively at Albert, a desperate, shared plea in their eyes.
"Do you have any good ideas, Albert?" Lee asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You got the Whomping Willow wood, you got the book. You're the one who always figures out the impossible angles."
"Give up," Albert said simply, turning a page. "That is my best idea. The second best idea is to accept that most serious magical pursuits—whether it's high-art Potions or true Alchemy—are expensive endeavors. They are meant to be money-burning pursuits."
He closed Extractions, Separations, and Potions just for a moment and looked at their woebegone faces. "If you had the Galleons, you'd order the extract from Diagon Alley and be done with it. Since you don't, you must either wait, or find a less... chaotic solution."
"Don't worry about us," George grumbled, waving his hand toward a passing student. "Unless you can magically conjure us some garlic, just focus on your paper."
Shanna approached the table then, carrying a stack of scrolls. She glanced with confusion at the three disconsolate boys. "What's going on with them? Are they still depressed about the Astronomy marks?"
"Nothing serious," Albert replied easily. "Just a minor logistical problem involving a large quantity of cooking material. Don't worry, they'll recover. You were going to ask about the Aconitum paper?"
Shanna sat down, pushing the troubled trio from her mind. "Yes. Professor Snape assigned that essay on the toxicity and medicinal use of Aconitum—the Wolfsbane—today. I was hoping to go to the library later to collate information. It goes faster if we work together to source the material."
They quickly agreed on a time and the division of labor—Albert was always the fastest at identifying key, relevant passages. Once Shanna departed, Albert returned his attention to his new alchemy text.
He was hoping to find more than just ingredient extraction. He was looking for the secret behind the magical world's moving photographs and the formula for the Developing Potion used to create them.
He flipped to the contents and, to his immense pleasure, spotted a section dedicated to "Visual Fixation Charms." This looked promising.
Just as he was about to dive into the chapter on photographic solution formulae, his internal awareness—the System Panel—flashed, accompanied by a soft mental chime.
New System Quest Activated!
Magic Photos That Move
You have successfully identified the secret alchemical-charms hybrid responsible for animated magical photography. Begin your experimentation immediately!
Goal: Create three stable, moving magical photographs.
Reward: 500 Experience Points, Gain the Skill: Alchemy.
Albert's heart gave a slight, satisfied thump. Five hundred experience points were negligible, but the immediate reward was priceless: the Alchemy Skill. He needed that skill unlocked to fulfill the prerequisite for his long-dormant Magic Lamp quest.
The ability to directly obtain a skill—especially one considered an advanced elective—was a massive time saver. He spent the remainder of the lunch hour mentally calculating the necessary procurement of specific, non-poisonous ingredients required for the developing potion. He was ready to start the moment he returned to the dorm.
As Albert finally stood up, preparing to head for the Great Hall, he heard George whispering to Fred and Lee.
"Okay, so here's the plan. We can't get it from the kitchens, so we'll have to try the next best thing: Hogsmeade. We'll save up a few Sickles, make a run to the village discreetly next weekend, buy a year's supply of garlic, and then bring it back and plant it ourselves. We just need to find a secluded spot near the Forbidden Forest..."
Albert turned his head toward the secretive huddle. "What's that? Did you finally come up with a decent plan?"
"We plan to try our luck in the village," Fred confirmed, his voice slightly defiant, implying they had solved the problem without Albert's help.
"Oh, then I wish you luck," Albert said, patting Fred on the shoulder. He looked at the three determined faces—three boys with a pocketful of ambition and precisely no money. He opened his mouth to deliver a final, casual piece of advice, his tone utterly off-hand.
"In fact, I'm almost certain Hagrid has a huge supply in his garden. If you wanted to try there, he'd probably give you enough for research."
"What's going on?" A voice, deep and booming, suddenly interrupted them.
They all turned to see Hagrid, the half-giant gamekeeper, lumbering down the corridor, looking uncharacteristically focused and heading towards the Headmaster's office.
"Nothing, Hagrid, sir," Fred muttered, immediately feeling awkward. They had no real intention of bothering Hagrid; mentioning his garden was pure hyperbole.
"Garlic, Hagrid," Albert interjected quickly, before the twins could deny their entire scheme. "They are trying to obtain some garlic for a Defense Against the Dark Arts study on its ability to resist minor Dark Creatures, but the House-Elves wouldn't part with any."
Hagrid paused, his massive brow furrowing in concentration. "Garlic, eh? Good thinking, tha' is! Keep the nasties away. Well, if you need garlic, I can certainly provide you with some. Got a whole patch out back. Come see me this afternoon, and I'll send you away with a sackful for yer research."
With that, Hagrid gave a friendly nod and continued his journey toward the Headmaster's office, leaving the three boys staring after him in stunned silence.
The trio looked at each other in utter disbelief. They had been racking their brains, meticulously plotting a secretive, months-long Hogsmeade-to-Forbidden-Forest operation, only for Albert to solve their logistical nightmare with a single, casual sentence to a passing professor.
"Isn't that... too easy?" George finally managed, his voice a bewildered whisper.
"Hagrid often cooks for himself, and he has an enormous vegetable garden, so he's sure to have plenty," Albert said, glancing at the embarrassed, yet relieved, trio. "Just do me a favor. He's doing you a big one, so help me think of a creative, non-flammable Christmas present for him this year. Consider it payment for the introduction."
"We will! Absolutely!" they nodded in unison, their despair utterly evaporated, replaced by the giddy excitement of a fully funded project.
"Excellent," Albert said. "But I must remind you, even Hagrid's initial supply won't be enough for long-term production. You still need a continuous source. Take the time, go to his cabin, and learn how to grow it yourself. It's quite easy to grow garlic, after all."
This simple, practical advice was technically their original plan. As for where to plant it, the boys had indeed planned on a clandestine spot near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, far from the prying eyes of professors—and Hagrid himself.
Albert simply looked at the three boys, who were already whispering excitedly about soil pH and planting depths. He shook his head slowly.
They are planning a massive, secretive field operation on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest when they could simply plant a few bulbs in an old ceramic vase with some fireplace ash for fertilizer in the dorm window.
Albert decided not to offer this final piece of advice. Let them deal with the logistical complexities of clandestine vegetable farming. He had his own alchemy to master.
The garlic supply is secure, thanks to Hagrid. Now that Albert has the book and the quest, his attention is on unlocking the Alchemy Skill. Should he focus on sourcing the rare ingredients for the Developing Potion first, or should he spend his time reading deeper into the theory of Visual Fixation Charms to ensure the moving photo process is perfected?