Beginning Brewing

Beginning Brewing

Since the next day was Sunday, Hermione did not have to worry with waking up early and therefore settled down in her bed, a ball of blue light floating above her so she could read. In her lap was the heavy tome Dragons In-depth. After talking with the Malfoys, she found out that the dragon that currently resided at Hogwarts was a sub-species of the Hebridean Black dragons. There were three sub-species in that category: Mist dragons, Cloud dragons, and Shadow dragons. Athair was a Shadow dragon, the rarest of the three.

She learned that their body and scales were dark and semi-translucent, making them appear as giant shadows from a distance. As she continued reading, her level of comfort dropped.

The Shadow dragon breed is crafty and conniving; while instinctively sly, they are not a breed that is prone to taking risks. They have their own tongue of communication and they know a common tongue known to all dragon species. Fifteen percent of hatchlings can communicate with any intelligent creature and the possibility of gaining the ability increased five percent with every age category.

She quickly did the calculations in her head, realizing that there was a good possibility that she could have communicated with the creature, and stored the bit of knowledge away in her mind for future reference.

The Shadow dragon’s only defensive weapon is its breath. It can breathe a black cloud that is six meters in length and five meters in depth and breadth. Depending on the toxicity released in the cloud, a person can be temporarily blinded, paralyzed or exhibit symptoms akin to the Muggle flu; if the cloud is extremely toxic, it can permanently blind or paralyze. With a maximum amount of toxicity in the cloud, a Shadow dragon’s breath can cause permanent brain damage and even death.

Some of the Shadow dragons’ offensive weapons are the control over light and darkness; they can manipulate shadows and even create them. They can appear and disappear at will and are fond of using invisibility to confuse their opponents. The most dangerous weapon of deception is their ability to become a shadow and to become part of the shadow world. While invisibility can hide them temporarily, they can be sensed by their body heat; when a Shadow dragon fades into the shadow world, they are utterly undetectable.

She realized that this is why she had not been able to see the dragon before, when she heard wings flapping. It had either disappeared completely or blended into the shadows.

Closing the book with a loud thud, Hermione sighed and leaned over to set the heavy book on the floor. As she moved to change, she saw a shadow move across the window and gave a soft gasp. Rushing to the window, she threw it open and leaned outside to see the massive shadow moving away from the castle, toward the forest. She watched with mixed emotions, knowing the dragon was dangerous, but consoled slightly by the fact that he did not seem to be aggressive toward those in Hogwarts.

But a quiet voice in the back of her mind nagged at her. How long will it last?

Sunday morning found the students roaming Hogwarts or its grounds, or in their common rooms, the Great Hall, the library, or wherever they went to study and spend their free time. Hermione Granger, however, was in her private office, door locked and a sound-proofing spell surrounding her work area.

It was the first potion she would be working with for her licenses and she was intensely nervous. She had never attempted to create her own before, nor had she even thought about ever making variations of potions, but now she had to if she wanted to become a Potions mistress.

Her office had been cleared of any clutter and now had only a table, on which sat her large pewter cauldron and a huge book of Herbology, with the largest index of herbs and plants. Luckily for her, Neville only kept the best when it came to Herbology.

It still amazed her that the wizarding world seemed so advanced in some areas and so behind in others, and that was why she had picked this particular potion to be her first. There was one thing that both Muggle doctors and the wizarding Healers seemed to have in common: the lack of finding a cure for eczema and psoriasis. Since finding a cure would be difficult and take far longer, she was determined to at least create a better relief until that time. She had seen what having eczema could do, how it drove her mother crazy, and she wanted to help. So that was Hermione’s goal for the day; the first potion she was going to attempt was a treatment for eczema.

“No one can fault me for having high hopes,” she murmured to herself as she pulled out her three most important ingredients: chervil, blue flag iris and pokeweed.

She started with the standard eight ounces of water and then began adding extra ingredients, beginning with the minced mullein, comfrey and sweet bay. As it simmered, she crushed the aloe and carefully extracted the gloopy juices, mixing it with the essences of nettles. Using a turkey baster, she collected the gooey mess and carefully added it to the cauldron one large smelly drop at a time. When the potion started reaching a boil, she emptied the extracts of the soapwort and bee balm into the mixture.

She had no clue if a certain stirring pattern would help, since it was her first creation and an untested one at that. Going over the properties of all the plants, she decided on a clockwise motion for five minutes before switching and stirring counter-clockwise for another five. She grabbed a large pinch of pokeweed and blue flag iris and sprinkled it into the potion, stirred again and retrieved a smaller amount of chervil and aimed at the direct certain of the potion.

With a sharp, fast motion, she threw the chervil into the cauldron, delighted when a small puff of smoke rose in the air. So far, the potion was the colour she wanted. She began stirring again, growing uneasy when the mixture started changing from a beautiful powder-pink to a dark shade of magenta. Then it started bubbling.

“Uh-oh.” She was in such a state of shock that she could barely think; she just stood over the pewter bowl, watching the dark liquid bubble into a thick lump of goo at a frightening speed. As it boiled higher and higher, she suddenly realised that she needed to get out of the way quickly. As she dived under the table, a loud boom was followed by the sickening sound of big drops of ooze splattering against the walls.

She scurried out from under her work table, but as she saw the mess the explosion had left, suddenly wished she hadn’t. “Perfect,” she grumbled to herself. Waving her wand around the room, the mess disappeared. “I hope this isn’t a sign of what the rest of my week is going to be like."