Chapter 119: Simplifying the Polyjuice Potion
"I don't need you to give me an answer so quickly, Mr. Fythorne," Quirrell said softly.
"When I approach you again, I only hope you'll be able to give me a satisfactory response. And I trust you won't mention this to anyone—what I mean is my intention to have you study with me."
"No problem, Professor," Russell shrugged. "The customer is always right."
After Russell left, Quirrell frowned slightly and asked in confusion,
"Why does it have to be Fythorne? Aren't there other outstanding students? And after being deceived by Corvey last year, surely he won't trust us so easily again."
"No, no, Quirrell—you don't understand," Voldemort murmured softly.
"Why do you think Fythorne is so much stronger than students his age? Wasn't it precisely because of Corvey's private instruction last year?"
"Besides, he's grown very close to the Addams family. That alone proves he desires greater power. After all, the Addamses are a lineage steeped in Dark Magic."
"He'll come to understand it eventually. Serving me is far better than serving the Addams family. What I can offer—power, status—far exceeds anything they could ever give."
"You are most wise, my lord," Quirrell said hastily. Hearing this, he found himself fully persuaded.
---
"Why did Professor Quirrell take you away? Are you alright?"
The moment Russell returned to the Great Hall, his teammates immediately surrounded him, their expressions tense.
"Was it about the gas masks?" someone asked nervously.
"It's nothing," Russell replied casually. "He just feels his teaching isn't good enough and wanted to ask how Professor Corvey conducted his classes last year."
He shrugged as if it were trivial.
"That's a relief," they said, finally relaxing—before immediately launching into mockery.
"Even if he learns, what difference does it make? A stuttering idiot who can only read from a book will never match Professor Corvey."
"Exactly! He probably can't even finish casting a spell properly."
"That's savage, Fred," someone laughed. "But you're absolutely right."
Other students nearby overheard and eagerly joined in. Quirrell had clearly earned universal resentment.
For once, Gryffindor and Slytherin found themselves in rare agreement—just how disliked Quirrell truly was.
"Time is money, time is life," someone declared passionately.
"Professor Quirrell's irresponsibility is a waste of both—it's practically murder for profit!"
The complaints only stopped when Quirrell himself entered the hall, his face dark with fury.
---
That night, Russell made his way to the Potions classroom Snape had arranged for him.
While the Room of Requirement was more discreet, working here meant that if he ran into trouble, he could easily consult Snape—whose office was just one floor above.
"This place isn't bad," Wednesday said behind him, arms crossed as she surveyed the room with approval.
The classroom clearly hadn't been used in years. Dust coated every surface. Spider webs draped from the chandeliers like tattered curtains. The shelves held not books, but rows of jars—each containing some unidentified creature preserved in murky liquid.
A faint, unsettling silence filled the air.
Wednesday's lips curved slightly.
She liked it here.
__
"Alright, time to get to work," Russell said, giving Wednesday a meaningful look.
She sighed reluctantly, pulled out her wand, and began cleaning alongside him.
It took them a full half hour to get the classroom spotless. Thankfully, the room still had a complete set of potion-brewing equipment—saving them the trouble of borrowing tools from Snape.
Snape probably wouldn't have refused, but he definitely would've taken the chance to mock them mercilessly. Russell could already hear the biting sarcasm in his head.
"So you dragged me here just to clean a classroom?" Wednesday asked.
"Of course not," Russell replied. "Tonight, you're the star of the show."
"Oh?" A flicker of interest appeared in her eyes. "Do explain."
"Do you remember the transformation potions you gave me last term?"
Russell took them out one by one and lined them up on the table.
"Of course. I brewed several of those myself."
"So I had an idea."
Russell pulled over a chair, conjured a soft cushion, and gently pressed Wednesday into the seat.
"I want to simplify the effects of the transformation potion—make it change only appearance, without granting the creature's physical abilities."
"Why?" Wednesday tilted her head, curious but not resistant.
"Because I want to sell it to other students. If it's the original version, the professors would never allow it."
"That does sound interesting," she admitted.
Watching students transform into different creatures clearly appealed to her sense of fun.
"The transformation potion is based on Polyjuice Potion, with several modifications," Wednesday said, stepping up to the lectern. She tapped the blackboard lightly, and the required ingredients appeared.
Steep knotgrass for twenty-one days, extract ant venom, powdered bicorn horn, fluxweed, crude antimony…
The biggest change was replacing the human tissue with tissue from the target magical creature, along with several additional components.
That immediately gave Russell a headache. Where was he supposed to find all those biological samples?
Then his gaze drifted to the shelves behind him—rows of jars filled with preserved specimens.
An idea struck.
He hurried over and, sure enough, found exactly what he needed.
Some ingredients were still missing, though. Looks like they'd have to ask Snape for help.
"You're short on ingredients?" Snape frowned. With Wednesday standing behind Russell, his attitude was noticeably less hostile than usual.
He took the list, glanced at it once, and immediately recognized it—it was clearly derived from the Polyjuice Potion formula.
Snape looked at Wednesday, then at Russell, and said stiffly,
"Go to my storeroom and fetch them yourselves. If the potion doesn't meet my standards…"
He trailed off, a thin, ambiguous smile tugging at his lips.
"Of course, Professor," Russell replied quickly. "And may I use the materials already stored in that classroom?"
"Yes," Snape agreed after a brief pause.
That classroom hadn't been used in years. Anything valuable had long since been transferred to his private stash.
With Snape's key in hand, Russell and Wednesday entered the storeroom. Shelves upon shelves of rare ingredients filled the space.
Russell even spotted an entire venomous horn from a fully grown beast—and a complete dragon hide. It looked juvenile, but still astonishing.
He took only what was needed for the potion, grabbing a few extra sets just in case.
They split the work: Wednesday instructed while Russell handled the wandwork.
"Soak the knotgrass in saltwater," Wednesday said coolly beside him.
"Salt concentration around ten percent—no higher."
"Cut off both ends of the ants, crush them with an iron rod, and collect the juice."
"Wednesday… won't extracting the ant juice this early cause it to spoil?" Russell frowned.
"I don't know," she replied flatly. "This is how it's always been done."
"…Alright, then."
Russell suspected that if people truly knew how transformation potions were brewed, most would be violently ill—especially after dining at the Addams household for so long.
"Which ingredient grants the creature's abilities?" Russell asked.
"Manticore tongue."
"So if we remove that," Russell reasoned,
"the drinker should transform in appearance only, without gaining the creature's powers?"
"I can't be sure," Wednesday admitted. "We'll have to test it."
"Well, we've got enough ingredients for trial and error," Russell said. "Plenty of margin for mistakes."
"But who's going to test it?" he added, troubled.
Wednesday's eyes gleamed with excitement.
"No," Russell said immediately, cutting her off.
If only some Dark wizard would conveniently volunteer, he thought jokingly.
"Oh—Wednesday," Russell suddenly said.
"Does the original potion only work on humans, or can it affect other creatures too?"
"I don't know," she replied. "But we can find out."
Excitement flickered in her eyes.
As for test subjects, Russell already had one in mind.
He glanced out the classroom window. Moonlight shimmered across the surface of the Black Lake.
They worked late into the night. On the way back, they ran into Filch—who hadn't caught anyone in ages and was positively delighted.
"Well, well. Two students wandering after curfew," he sneered.
"One Ravenclaw and one Slytherin. Looks like I get to summon a professor tonight."
"Do you?" Russell replied calmly.
He could've avoided Filch with a Disillusionment Charm, but thanks to their potion work, he'd managed to wrangle two official permission slips from Snape.
Filch examined the papers, verified Snape's signature, and looked like he'd swallowed something foul. He remembered—this wasn't the first time Russell had ruined his fun.
Scowling, Filch stalked off.
"I feel like he really hates me," Wednesday said thoughtfully.
"Did I offend him somehow?"
Russell smiled faintly.