Chapter 39
Some time had passed since Professor Lupin's class, and most of the school had gone to Hogsmeade Village, except for some students, including Gray, who didn't have a permission slip. He hadn't asked his guardian, the lady who ran the orphanage where Gray grew up, to sign it, and he didn't want to, anyway, since he had a potion to brew. "Too bad the students are going to spend the money they would have otherwise spent on my Sleepless Potion," he thought. Yes, Gray was still selling that potion to students because it was still profitable. Currently, Gray was finishing brewing a new potion that he had been perfecting for days, and today was the day he got it right. A minute later, he deactivated his mana, took a breath, and looked at the status window of his new potion.
[ Name: Oracle's Vigil ]
[ Grade: High ]
[ Description: Oracle's Vigil is a potent high-grade potion that heightens the consumer's instincts, granting a 500% increase in their ability to sense impending danger. Crafted with level 6 potion-making skill, this potion attunes the drinker to minute environmental shifts like air pressure changes and faint sounds. The primary ingredients include Dittany Root (for enhanced intuition), Standard Ingredient, Flobberworm Mucus, Knotgrass, and Bat Wing (to sharpen sensory perception). Auxiliary materials include Asphodel Petals, Infusion of Wormwood, and Nettles. The effect lasts for up to 2 hours; however, repeated use can lead to sensory overload, causing temporary disorientation once the effects fade. ]
[ Deterioration Rate: 100%, the freshness of the potion ]
"Perfected, literally," he thought to himself as he took a sip of his new potion. "Ahh, it feels… suffocating."
Almost instantly, Gray's senses sharpened to an overwhelming degree. Every small shift in his suitcase felt amplified—the sound of his own breath, the faint scratch of fabric, the creak of the wooden floor below. The air felt thick with a strange tension, every particle buzzing against his skin. It was as if he could sense the entire room holding its breath, a thousand invisible details crowding his awareness. His body tensed at the overload, heart racing, but after a few long breaths, he steadied himself, letting the heightened sensation settle into clarity.
Gray took a moment to gather himself, adjusting to the new realm of awareness. Once he felt ready, he climbed out of his suitcase, immediately noticing the bustling energy outside. Gryffindor students were rushing out of the common room, their faces etched with urgency and concern. He followed, curious, his senses catching snippets of hurried whispers and thudding footsteps.
As he stepped into the corridor, he glanced up at the Fat Lady's portrait. To his shock, the canvas was empty, and there were three deep claw marks slashed across it, the torn edges still fraying as if the attack had happened moments ago. Ron snickered, "Probably stuffing her face with the apples in that still life on the second floor again." Ginny shook her head, her expression anxious. "No. You don't understand—" Suddenly, Dumbledore appeared, commanding, "Mr. Filch, round up the ghosts. Tell them to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady." A scream echoed, sending the students rushing to the landing, where all the paintings whispered fearfully.
Filch, eyes narrowed, raised a finger, pointing to the ceiling where the Fat Lady cowered in a portrait not her own, trembling. Dumbledore's voice softened, "Dear lady, who did this to you?" She shuddered, her voice distant, "Eyes like the devil he's got, and a soul as dark as his name. It was him, Headmaster. The one they talk about. He's here, somewhere in the castle. Sirius Black." The students gasped, but Dumbledore's voice cut through the chatter. "Secure the castle, Mr. Filch. The rest of you… to the Great Hall." Gray lingered for a moment as he thought, "Huh, it's just a fanatic of Voldemort," dismissively as he went to the Great Hall.
The next morning, the Gryffindors, Gray included, found the Fat Lady's place taken by a new painting: Sir Cadogan, a tiny knight brandishing his sword and taunting any who approached. "Who dares challenge Sir Cadogan! Back, you scurvy braggarts! You rogues!" Seamus groaned, "He's barking mad!" Dean muttered, "What d'you expect? After what happened to the Fat Lady, none of the other pictures would take the job." Neville waved a wrinkled parchment. "But he keeps changing the password. Twice just this morning! I've taken to keeping a list." As they left, Sir Cadogan bellowed, "Farewell, comrades! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!" Ron muttered, "Hey, Gray, is he your relative?" to which Gray just looked at him, amused.
"Hey, do you want to vomit slugs?" he asked, completely naturally, which freaked Ron out as he gagged before leaving. "Kids," Gray thought to himself before suddenly, his surroundings started to stretch as he thought, "Huh, I am under surveillance," as he looked around. However, he couldn't detect where he was being watched from; well, he could tell where it was from, but it was from every direction: up, down, left, right, forward, and backward. "This is a problem," he thought as he walked away.
In the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Snape snapped the screen down over the blackboard. "Turn to page 394." As the students exchanged glances, Malfoy finished scrawling on a bit of parchment, balling it up until a moth fluttered from his hands. Harry, bewildered, asked, "Excuse me, sir, but… where's Professor Lupin?" Snape's gaze didn't waver. "That's not really your concern, is it, Potter? Suffice it to say, your professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time. Page 394." Ron whispered to Harry as Hermione began to protest. Snape's patience waned as he commanded, "Quiet!" Pointing at the attacking werewolf on the screen, Snape challenged, "Now. Which of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?"
Hermione, brimming with answers, waited, but Snape's silence prompted her, "Please, sir, an Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A werewolf has no choice in the matter and actively hunts humans—" Malfoy howled mockingly, but Snape silenced him with a glare before turning back to Hermione. "Tell me. Are you incapable of restraining yourself? Or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?" before he turned towards Gray, who was quietly taking notes—well, at least he looked like he was. In reality, he was tweaking some of his data and doing some calculations. "Why can't you be like Knight, who I am sure would know the answer but doesn't open his mouth unless I ask him?"
This made Gray look over his notes and glance around; the whole class was looking at him before Ron whispered to Harry, "He's got a point, you know." Snape's voice cut through, docking points and assigning them a lengthy essay on werewolves. "Passing notes, Potter?" He snatched Malfoy's crude drawing, sneering, "Not exactly Picasso, are you? I hope you demonstrate more talent on the Quidditch pitch this weekend than you do as an artist."
Snape's cold voice sliced through the silence as he warned, "If not, I fear you'll perish, given the weather forecast. Until that time, however, you'll forgive me if I don't let you off homework. Should you die, I assure you… you need not hand it in." He turned, barely concealing a smirk, while Malfoy, Crabbe, Coyle, and Pike snickered, while Gray groaned, "Gosh, it's like I'm in a movie or something," he thought as he closed off everything before returning to his experiment.
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A/N i have a habit of writing of other fanfic while my stocks on the one i am realising dwindles.
Chapter 40
It was a very stormy evening, with rain and lightning mixing, which put Gray in a bad mood as he had his mana activated. "Where was this lightning storm when I needed it the most?" Yes, that Animagus ritual still haunted him to this day. As he added Flobberworm Mucus to his solution, he honestly should have felt disgusted, given that he intended to drink this potion, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he had an idea. "Why don't I bottle lightning?" he thought as he finally deactivated his mana, and his potion was a success. But don't let this success blind you; he had failed the batch before this. In his cauldron was an orange liquid that visibly distorted the air. Gray looked down, "It sure smells like a dragon's breath, whatever that smells like?" he thought as he distributed the full cauldron into individual test tubes, some of which he carried, others he stored.
[ Name: Dragon's Breath Elixir ]
[ Grade: High ]
[ Description: Dragon's Breath Elixir is a rare peak-grade potion that grants the consumer the power to exhale a controlled burst of fire, mirroring a dragon's fiery breath at 400% potency. The effect is potent, lasting a single use upon consumption and allowing the user to project a stream of fire up to 15 feet with intense heat. Made with level 7 potion-making skill, it combines Fire Seed Extract (for heat intensity), Salamander Blood (for fire resistance), Flame-Infused Dittany, Billywig Sting Slurry (to maintain the intensity of the breath), and Boomslang Skin for consistency. Auxiliary materials such as Ashwinder Egg Essence and Flobberworm Mucus further stabilize the volatile mixture, ensuring safety and control for the user. Due to its peak-grade potency, repeated use in a short time span can cause throat irritation and mild heat sensitivity for up to an hour afterward. ]
[ Deterioration-Rate: 100%, the freshness of the potion ]
Yeah, Gray made a potion that allowed him to breathe fire like a dragon simply because he was preparing for a battle with those Merlin lunatics. Although he defeated one of them effortlessly, Gray felt like this wasn't a serious attack, so he was preparing for an actual one. After he was done arming himself with his usual set of potions, which consisted of speed, attack, healing, and utility potions—invisibility and the new instinct-heightening potion—Gray then stepped out of his suitcase. He had actually started adding his own enhancements to it, like making it invisible. Gray then left the Gryffindor common room; the castle was empty, which made sense given that there was a Quidditch match going on. He immediately regretted going on his little walk because, inside the castle, where it shouldn't have been possible, were Dementors, who weren't supposed to come this far.
Gray felt the chill seep into his bones as the air around him grew cold and stagnant. The corridor lights dimmed, flickering under the presence of the four Dementors advancing with slow, haunting motions. His breath fogged in the freezing air, and even the walls seemed to grow a layer of frost, crackling under the creeping ice spreading with each looming step of his adversaries.
He didn't flinch. Instead, his eyes narrowed, calculating. "Four Dementors, two coming straight, one on each side. This calls for a boost," he thought, calmly reaching into his satchel. With practiced precision, he withdrew a speed potion and a potent Basilisk's Arcane Elixir, crafted with basilisk blood and other rare ingredients. Even with the preservation charms, its potency had slightly diminished over time, now sitting at 71%. It would be enough.
He downed both in a swift motion, feeling the familiar rush flood his system. The elixir surged through him, amplifying his already eight-times-enhanced magical core, pushing it further by 3.5 times its baseline. His muscles buzzed with energy, and his senses sharpened, as if he could feel every particle in the air.
The Dementors moved in, two of them lunging forward with claw-like hands outstretched, tattered cloaks billowing in the air. Gray sidestepped one of them with blinding speed, the rush of air snapping as he shot back with his enhanced agility. One Dementor's claws narrowly missed him, scraping the stone floor with a piercing screech that echoed through the corridor. Another Dementor on his right drew closer, its gaping maw pulling him into an abyssal chill that gnawed at his soul.
Unfazed, Gray raised his cane, channeling the flood of arcane power pulsing within him. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, casting the spell in a brilliant beam rather than forming it into a shape. A blinding stream of pure, radiant light surged from his cane, cutting through the darkness and slamming into the two Dementors ahead with a roar. They shrieked, the hollow, ear-piercing cries cutting through the air as the light seared into them, banishing the icy grip of despair that emanated from their forms.
The Dementor to his left lunged again, taking advantage of his focus on the others. Gray sensed it at the edge of his vision, its skeletal hands reaching to clamp around his shoulder. He spun, his speed now doubled, dodging the creature by a hair's breadth, his cane arcing toward it. With another surge of magic, he shot a second beam directly into its hood, the light pouring out of its eye sockets as it let out a tortured scream, reeling back from the impact and dissipating into a fine mist.
The last Dementor hovered at a distance, as if calculating, watching Gray as he stood amidst its defeated allies. Its form wavered as it slowly started forward, and Gray could feel it attempting to pierce his mind, the foul presence pulling his deepest fears to the surface. But the Basilisk's Arcane Elixir had fortified his magical core; his mind felt impenetrable, a fortress of light and resilience.
He smirked, raising his cane, pouring his magic into one final, blinding blast. The entire corridor lit up, the beam of light blasting forward, aimed straight at the Dementor. The creature recoiled, screeching, its shriek growing faint as the light consumed it. The shadows pulled back, the cold dissipated, and the frost on the walls began to melt as the last Dementor vanished, leaving behind nothing but the lingering warmth of Gray's arcane energy.
He lowered his cane, the echoes of the Patronus fading. The corridor, once frigid and cloaked in darkness, now returned to its usual glow. Taking a breath, he stowed his cane, dusted himself off, and gave the empty hall one last glance. "A good warm-up," he thought, a small grin on his face as he moved on. Suddenly, he grabbed the air, revealing an invisible student. "There you are," Gray said as he watched the student try to fiddle with a metal emblem in his hand, which Gray quickly snatched. However, the student muttered something, "For Merlin," before his body went limp and cold, foaming at the mouth. Gray thought, "Hm, looks like I need to add a paralyzing potion to the to-do list," as he sighed and placed the body down, then took out his newly created Dragon's Breath Potion.
He quickly burned the student's body, disposing of the ashes before going about his day as if nothing had happened. Later that day, he overheard students discussing how the Dementors attacked Harry Potter at the Quidditch match. Time went by peacefully, with Gray spending the following months digging into one of his old research ideas, that being the Philosopher's Stone. Instead of producing the Elixir of Life, however, he wanted it to create something akin to liquified magic, which he believed could unlock new spells. Months of hard work led him to reach Level 7 in potion-creation, increasing his chance of creating permanent potions and reducing his chance of failure.
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GOT IT