The art of persuasion lay in telling truths that sounded just deceptive enough.
"Of course it's Snape! He'd have you in detention before you could say 'Boomslang skin'! Dumbledore might say he's your uncle, but I reckon that man cares least about family!" Hagrid huffed, his dislike of Snape making him instantly sympathetic to Ian's "dilemma."
"I still can't take you into the Forbidden Forest, it's Hogwarts' rule. But I can fetch the ingredients for you, provided you stay right here in the pumpkin patch." Hagrid stepped fully outside, and before Ian could get a proper look inside the cabin, he swiftly turned back and shut the door behind him.
"Alright, I have no problem with that." Ian nodded thoughtfully.
He obediently followed Hagrid to the pumpkin patch outside the hut. With Halloween approaching, the field was already filled with pumpkins that had clearly been treated with some sort of magical growth enhancement.
"Really now, my dog is very fierce; don't even think about sneakin' in. He'll definitely bite you." Hagrid shot Ian another wary glance as he hoisted several large buckets and made his way toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"Oh, I'm terrified of dogs," Ian assured him smoothly.
Watching Hagrid's towering form gradually disappear into the trees, Ian immediately crouched down among the pumpkins and began gathering caterpillars.
This was, in fact, a potion ingredient as well. Since he had already gone to the trouble of gathering supplies, Ian decided to make the most of it. Using the backpack Hagrid had returned to him, he began combing through the pumpkin patch in search of fresh caterpillars.
Time slipped away quickly.
Just as Ian was beginning to feel like a full-time caterpillar hunter, Hagrid returned, lugging several large buckets. The half-giant was a force to be reckoned with when it came to... frog extermination.
The sight of an entire bucket brimming with frog brains left Ian momentarily speechless. For a fleeting second, he feared Hagrid had single-handedly wiped out every frog in the Forbidden Forest.
"Er... I think that's more than enough."
Ian was at a complete loss for words.
"Ah, it's just as well to have extra," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Young wizards tend to botch their potions a fair few times. I never had much luck myself when I was at school. And if Snape's the one giving you trouble, I reckon whatever he's set you to brew isn't the easiest."
As he spoke, he handed Ian the heavy buckets. Alongside the bucket of frog brains, there was a generous supply of St. John's Wort and Belladonna essence, more than Ian had expected.
"Unicorns, though... they're not so easy to come by," Hagrid admitted, rubbing his beard. "Only ran into two I know today."
From one of his oversized pockets, he pulled out a small glass vial, about the size of a goblet, filled with shimmering Unicorn saliva. Ian couldn't help but wonder how on earth Hagrid had convinced the unicorns to spit into a bottle for him.
"Thank you, Professor Hagrid!" Ian carefully tucked the bottle inside his robes as he spoke.
Hagrid scratched the back of his head. "Much as I like hearin' it, I ain't really a professor. Got expelled from Hogwarts, remember?"
There was a faint trace of sadness in his voice.
"You don't need a diploma to be a professor," Ian said firmly. "When it comes to magical creatures, I'd wager your knowledge is greater than half the instructors in the wizarding world."
"You always help young wizards in need, that's what a real professor does. Any school would be lucky to have someone as knowledgeable and kind as you."
And Ian meant every single word.
If Hagrid were just a touch less reckless and a little more cautious, he would undoubtedly be among the finest professors of Care of Magical Creatures in Hogwarts history.
"Blimey, you're makin' me feel right important!" Hagrid let out a booming laugh, his great shaggy beard quivering. "Always thought I had a soft spot for Gryffindors, but seems Ravenclaws aren't half bad either!"
He ruffled Ian's hair in delight, utterly destroying the neat style Ian had just fixed.
"It's true! I believe one day you'll be our professor, it's only a matter of time," Ian declared, deftly ducking out of Hagrid's grip.
His words left the half-giant looking both wistful and pleased. "If I ever did become a Hogwarts professor, I'd give you a dragon egg, yes, a real dragon egg!"
Of course, Hagrid didn't truly believe such a future awaited him. If he had, he'd never have made such a grand promise. Beneath his towering frame and boisterous nature, the half-giant carried insecurities few ever noticed.
"Alright then! You said it!" Ian's eyes gleamed with excitement. If he hadn't been unable to find Dumbledore on the Marauder's Map, he might have sprinted off to write a glowing recommendation letter that very instant.
Even the wizarding world thrived on connections.
And Dumbledore had personally assured Ian that the House of Dumbledore would always be his greatest ally.
"Of course!" Hagrid chortled, his beard shaking as he glanced toward the sky, where the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. "If you've got time durin' the day, come find me, we'll be mates, I reckon. But for now, you'd best get back to the castle. If one o' the real professors catches you loiterin' out here, you'll be in for a world of trouble."
What a well-intended warning this was.
Ian gathered up the large and small buckets of potion ingredients.
"Professor Hagrid."
He suddenly paused before leaving, glancing back at the half-giant, who had moved to stand by the door. It seemed Hagrid was waiting for Ian to depart before daring to open his cabin.
"I think I can definitely get you that dragon egg," Ian said seriously. "But before that happens, you need to stay alive."
Hagrid blinked, momentarily baffled.
"Huh? What's wrong with me?"
Frowning, he patted himself down as if checking for injuries. Ian, watching this, blinked as well before casually dropping a word of warning.
"Blast-Ended Skrewts can't be kept indoors… People tend to, well, perish rather quickly that way."
He hadn't even needed to sneak inside, he had caught a glimpse when Hagrid briefly cracked the door open.
"Also, Fang's been barking this whole time. And not because he's scared of me."
With that, Ian turned on his heel and sprinted toward the castle, leaving Hagrid standing in the doorway, cheeks tinged red, looking thoroughly flustered and at a loss for words.
…
The Room of Requirement.
Inside the specially conjured potions classroom, Ian stood before a bubbling cauldron, his focus razor-sharp as he monitored the potion's reaction. Every so often, he adjusted the heat beneath the cauldron, ensuring everything proceeded as expected.
Gūlū Gūlū Gūlū~
The potion simmered rhythmically, sending up curling wisps of steam.
Ian, sleeves rolled up, carefully added the next set of ingredients, keeping them in precise order. As he reached for the next item, the Dementor beside him silently extended the required ingredient, exactly as arranged beforehand.
It was a sight that would have left any other wizard utterly horrified. But, in the solitude of the Room of Requirement, there was no one around to witness it.
"I need the spoon, not the knife, you fool! Can't you remember their shapes?" Ian snapped, feeling like he was trapped in an endless Snape lecture.
Still, he remained determined, one day, he would train a Dementor that could assist in potion-making without error. The mere thought of it would be enough to make any potioneer green with envy.
The Dementor let out a low, hollow breath, almost as if it felt wronged.
Yet, it obeyed the command, floating over to fetch the spoon. Unfortunately, it returned with one nearly as large as Ian's head.
Well… progress was progress.
Ian could only sigh and make do, using the oversized spoon to measure and stir the prepared ingredients into the cauldron. This marked his sixth attempt, and he remained determined to refine the formula, searching for the breakthrough he needed.
The deeper he delved into the process…
The more he realized that Professor Morgan's lesson wasn't just about a simple love potion. It made sense, really,if it had merely been a prank, there'd have been no reason for Professor Morgan to tear her own robes in frustration.
"Fairy Grass, the plant that nurtures Flower Fairies," Ian murmured to himself, flipping through his notes. "There are only a handful left in the Far East… yet Professor Morgan didn't mention a single word about it in the textbook she assigned."
His sixth attempt had hit a dead end. He had completely run out of Snape's supply of Fairy Grass, and unless he found a viable substitute, his research would be stuck at a standstill.
Just as Professor Morgan had modified the original potion recipe, Ian needed to do the same.
But with his current level of potion-making, identifying a proper replacement wouldn't be easy.
And, unfortunately, there was no one left to ask.
"Perhaps 'Modern Applications of Ancient Potions' might already have the answers I need," Ian mused, troubled by his lack of progress. The thought of Hogwarts' vast library filled him with hope.
Without hesitation, he dashed out of the Room of Requirement, quickly checking the time as he hurried toward the library. If he couldn't find a solution there, he might have to resort to the notes of the Half-Blood Prince.
The inconsistencies in the formula gnawed at him, and he had no intention of waiting until the holidays to visit Diagon Alley for new ingredients.
(To Be Continued…)
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