The Essence of Potions

There were many other things like this—items that seemed inexplicably impressive, clearly not potion ingredients at all, yet appearing in the skill description.

When he had first seen these things, a question had already surfaced in Manus's mind:

What were they for? Or rather, when brewing potions, what part of these ingredients was actually at work?

Besides that, what was the purpose of the magic wizards infused while brewing potions?

The infused magic did not undergo any complex manipulation, so it clearly was not meant for purification, catalysis, or anything similar.

If that had been its purpose, Muggles and Squibs would not have been completely incapable of brewing potions. Yet the truth was that any operation involving magic could not be replaced by any other method.

Was it used to dissolve the residue in potions?

After all, all sorts of ingredients were added during the brewing process, yet once the potion was finished, the final product—whatever form it took—never contained sediment or residue.

But that was not the answer either. If it were, Muggles and Squibs should have been able to achieve the same thing through filtering, purification, and similar methods.

Besides, potions often went from cloudy to clear, from one color to another, in a single instant—and those moments did not involve the infusion of magic.

Infusing magic while brewing potions was definitely for the sake of some kind of magic, magic that could not be replaced.

It was not simply using magic to more easily accomplish something that could also be done without magic.

When these two questions were considered together, they supported each other and led to a corresponding answer—

The infusion of magic was for those seemingly inexplicably impressive components, perhaps even for every component. Those strange ones merely stood out because they seemed especially absurd.

And when potion ingredients were brewed, it was not their real, tangible components that took effect, but something that could only be awakened through the involvement of magic and incorporated into the potion.

Based on those two answers, and further considering the nature of Fairy-Tale Magic, as well as the crucial yet intangible role of emotions in Charms, it was not difficult to arrive at a possible guess.

So-called Potions was a special form of ritual magic.

Within potion ingredients, what needed magic to awaken and what truly functioned during brewing were their traits and symbolism—things that did not actually exist.

Take the Draught of Living Death Manus was currently watching as an example. Its ingredients included Powdered Asphodel Root, Infusion of Wormwood, Chopped Valerian Root, and Sopophorous Bean juice.

According to the knowledge and folk rumors Manus had gathered from various miscellaneous books in this world over the years, these ingredients carried the following symbolism:

Asphodel was sacred to Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, and was therefore widely planted near graveyards. It could thus be considered connected to the image of death.

Wormwood had a rich aroma and a bitter taste. Absinthe, brewed primarily from it, was widely believed to produce hallucinatory and hypnotic effects because of its high alcohol content.

Valerian root had calming and sleep-inducing effects. Since long ago, people had boiled valerian in water as an herb to help them sleep.

As for Sopophorous Beans, there was no need to say more. The effects of this magical plant were written right in its name.

Of these four ingredients, only the latter two truly contained active components capable of aiding sleep. The other two had no such effects at all.

Therefore, no matter how Muggles and Squibs boiled or refined these same ingredients, they could never produce something that put people into a sleeping stupor. They might be able to produce something lethal, though.

Much less precisely brew a Draught of Living Death capable of making someone sleep as if dead.

Yet these four ingredients did share something in common: people all believed them to be associated with images of sleep, calm, hypnosis, and eternal slumber.

So the final answer became clear. What truly participated in the brewing of these ingredients was that shared understanding, and magic was involved to awaken that power.

Just like in Charms, the force playing the dominant role was the power of emotion—or rather, the power of collective perception.

What needed to be awakened during potion brewing was precisely this kind of power. It was connected to spells and highly sensitive to magic, so simply infusing magic was enough; no excessive manipulation was needed.

It was like during his Magical Outburst, when Manus's Prestidigitation had been greatly strengthened by his desire to eat roasted meat.

With that understanding, Manus watched Eileen brew the Draught of Living Death, and everything suddenly became clear.

The changes were not changes in the ingredients themselves. They were the process in which the traits and symbolism within those ingredients were awakened by magic and merged with one another.

The procedure for brewing potions had to be followed strictly, because it was the process through which those symbolic traits were awakened and fused.

That process included the heat of the fire, whether the potion needed to be taken off the flame for certain steps, even the direction and number of stirs. All of these matched the state and quantity of the potion ingredients, so naturally, not one could be wrong.

But at the same time, one could not be rigid while brewing potions. If the symbolic traits had already been fully awakened or fused, then it was possible to move on to the next step rather than mechanically following the required timing.

Conversely, if they had not been fully awakened or fused, then the process had to continue. Without disrupting the overall ritual, one had to let that process finish before beginning the next step.

Whether one could accurately grasp these changes and the right timing was the key to whether a potion succeeded and how effective it would be.

Under Eileen's hands, the liquid in the cauldron turned pale lilac. As she continued stirring, it suddenly became completely transparent at one moment, as clear as running water.

A batch of nearly perfect Draught of Living Death: a colorless, odorless, powerful coma-inducing potion.

After bottling the Draught of Living Death in a clean glass vial, Eileen looked at Manus, who was still staring at the cauldron.

"How was it? Did you gain anything?"

As she spoke, Eileen's face was full of curiosity and anticipation.

"...I think I need to think about it some more."

A few seconds later, Manus came back to himself. He looked at Eileen, smiled, and said,

"Aunt Eileen, teach Severus first. Let me think a little longer."

Eileen nodded and turned to teach Severus, who was already looking at her with a face full of admiration. Still, she occasionally turned back to look at Manus.

Could this child grasp that subtle difference?

Eileen's feelings were somewhat complicated.

Unlike Charms, Potions was something she excelled at and took pride in. She had only learned this when she entered Hogwarts, during her third year.

Although there were reasons for that, such as not having studied Potions in advance, but... Manus was only seven years old, not even half the age she had been then!

Could he do it?