The things in his head were not necessarily his own, either. Ruger gradually immersed himself in the work. The kobold knack for adapting to any environment-staying alive while there was a chance, eating while there was food-came into play, leaving his mind as steady as a square block of stone. Of course, the old wizard deserved some credit, too. The old fellow had assigned him tasks with uncanny precision, as though tailoring them to the very limits of his mental power. They were not crushingly exhausting, but they demanded his complete attention.
It was as though his whole being had become part of the refining bench, a perfectly fitted component in the process that kept everything running precisely and continuously. As he worked with single-minded immersion, the refining knowledge and little tricks temporarily stuffed into his head, along with the unfamiliar formulas, gradually came together and truly became his own.
The ability to summon intense concentration at any moment was another essential quality of an excellent wizard.
Even when mysteries surrounded him, even when unknown dangers lay ahead, even when he did not know what he was doing himself.
That was precisely the situation. He had mastered the formula, familiarized himself with the refining process, and acquired a few shortcuts through direct instruction, yet he had no idea what the thing he was making actually did.
Potions in the wizarding world could be classified in different ways. From one perspective, for example, they fell into two broad categories. One consisted of potions with widespread uses that could be sold. The other consisted of specialized potions a particular wizard needed only for a particular experiment. Once they left that laboratory and the experiment ended, they might vanish from the world entirely. Unless something unexpected happened, no one would ever care about