Its birth had originally been meant to serve alchemy and ancient magic. Many ancient practices required potions as "inspiration."
The most typical example was an Animagus.
Vaughn raised the small bottle in his hand.
The shallow silver-gray potion inside sloshed gently, glimmering with faint yet brilliant light against the bizarre backdrop of constantly collapsing colors and expanding, recurring black and white.
It was a dose of Draught of Living Death, also known as Living Death Potion. Advanced Potions casually described it as a powerful sleeping draught, but as the saying went, names could be wrong, but nicknames never were.
"Living Death" vividly described what would happen after one drank it.
And that state between life and death—worse than death itself, like hell—was precisely what the notes described.
"No wonder so few people master alchemy and become alchemists. It isn't just a matter of talent. How many people would willingly drink such a dangerous potion and enter an uncertain realm?"
But the twins were willing.
So was Vaughn!
Without thinking further, he pulled out the stopper and drained the potion in one gulp.
"This is utter nonsense. Entering the Aether requires drinking Draught of Living Death. Vaughn, he—"7
"Professor McGonagall, when we took the potion and traveled through the Aether before, you didn't seem this nervous."
"There were two of you, and I was watching over you!"
"Dumbledore said Vaughn could manage on his own. Besides, we were planning to wait outside that classroom after the match anyway. If anything happened, we could bring him back."
In the deep, secluded corridor, Professor McGonagall hurried toward the auxiliary tower, her face stern as she shot the twins a fierce glare.
The twins following beside her exchanged helpless looks and shrugged. Just as they were about to say something else, their steps abruptly