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Suddenly, Harry jumped from his bed, a sudden realization dawning upon him. "Uh oh!" he exclaimed, a note of panic in his voice. "What time is it, Nigel?"
The AI answered calmly, "A little over 17, Master Harry."
Harry dashed downstairs, his mind racing. "I forgot to cook dinner," he muttered, worried about his aunt's reaction. But as he arrived in the kitchen, he was greeted by an unexpected scene. Petunia was humming to herself, a melody Harry faintly recognized from his early childhood. She was cooking, something that had become a rarity since Harry had taken over the kitchen duties as part of his chores.
Peering between Petunia's arms, Harry saw she was preparing his favorite dish - Roast Beef. The aroma was tantalizing, stirring memories of simpler times. He approached the kitchen, his surprise evident on his face.
Petunia turned and smiled at him. "Done studying? I cooked your favorite," she said, her voice carrying a warmth Harry hadn't heard in years.
Harry was taken aback. "How did you know?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.
Petunia giggled, a sound so rare and unexpected that it made Harry stop in his tracks. "Of course I know, silly. I am your Aunt," she said, her tone light and playful, a stark contrast to her usual stern demeanor.
Harry was speechless. This was a side of Petunia he hadn't seen since ever. The harshness that had defined their relationship seemed to have softened, if only for a moment. Without saying another word, he walked up to her and hugged her. It was a spontaneous gesture, one that spoke volumes about the changes unfolding within their household.
Petunia, taken aback by the hug, stiffened for a moment before relaxing into the embrace. It was a small but significant moment of connection, bridging years of misunderstanding and resentment.
As they sat down to eat, the atmosphere was different from the usual tense and silent dinners. Petunia seemed more relaxed, occasionally glancing at Harry with a softness in her eyes that he hadn't seen before.
Harry savored each bite of the roast beef, a dish that was not just delicious but also steeped in nostalgia. It had been ages since Petunia last cooked for him, and the effort she put into preparing his favorite meal did not go unnoticed. The meat was tender, infused with a blend of herbs and spices that created a symphony of flavors in his mouth. It was, without a doubt, a pleasant surprise.
"Amazing," Harry remarked, his tone genuine. He looked across the table at Petunia, whose face lit up at the compliment. There was a softness in her eyes, a glimmer of the aunt he vaguely remembered from his very early years.
Petunia, visibly pleased with Harry's reaction, leaned forward slightly. "Well, I have a surprise for you, but first finish your meal," she said, a hint of mystery in her voice.
Harry's curiosity piqued, but he obliged, enjoying the meal with a gusto he hadn't felt in a long time. This was more than just a well-cooked dish; it was a sign of changing times within the Dursley household, no Evans household, a possible thaw in the frosty relationship that had persisted for so long.
As he took the last bite, his mind wandered to what the surprise could be. Petunia hadn't been one for surprises, at least not pleasant ones, in all the years he had lived with the Dursleys.
Finally, with the meal concluded, Petunia stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned moments later with a dessert plate in her hands. On the plate was a treacle tart, its golden syrup glazing shining under the dining room light, the crust perfectly baked to a delicate crisp. Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. Treacle tart was his absolute favorite, a rare treat that he had long associated with happier times.
"This is for you," Petunia said, setting the plate down in front of Harry. Her voice carried a tenderness that Harry had never heard before, and it warmed his heart. He couldn't remember the last time she had made him a treacle tart. In fact, he couldn't recall her ever making it for him.
Harry looked at the treacle tart, then at Petunia, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia," he said, his voice filled with a gratitude that was as much for the gesture as it was for the dessert.
As he took a bite of the tart, the sweet, rich flavor of the treacle mixed with the buttery crust exploded in his mouth. It was a perfect balance of sweetness and texture, each bite bringing a wave of comfort and contentment. Harry closed his eyes, savoring the moment, the dessert bringing back memories of his mother, whom he never knew but always felt connected to through such simple joys.
Petunia watched Harry with an expression that was difficult to read. It was as if she was seeing him for the first time, not as the burden she had long considered him to be, but as a person, her nephew, Lily's son.
The room was quiet, save for the sound of Harry enjoying his dessert. Nigel, who had been a silent observer throughout the meal, finally spoke up. "It seems, Master Harry, that the winds of change are blowing through the Evans household. And they bring with them the sweet aroma of treacle tart."
Harry smiled, acknowledging Nigel's observation. "It's more than just a dessert, Nigel," he said, a reflective tone in his voice. "It's a symbol of... I don't know, hope, maybe? A sign that things can get better."
"Indeed, Master Harry," Nigel replied. "Life, much like potion-making, is full of unexpected reactions. Sometimes, all it takes is a simple ingredient, like a well-cooked meal or a treacle tart, to catalyze a change."
As Harry finished the last morsel of the tart, he felt a sense of peace, a feeling that had been foreign in the Evans household. The evening had unfolded in a way he never could have anticipated, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of optimism about his future at Privet Drive.
He helped Petunia clear the table, their movements synchronized in an unspoken dance of cooperation. The usual distance between them had lessened, even if just for the evening, and Harry cherished this newfound closeness.
Returning to his room after dinner, Harry once again accessed the Virtual Potion Crafting Room, ready to experiment with the Cure for Boils potion. His belly full and his heart content from the evening's unexpected turn of events, he felt a renewed vigor to push the boundaries of his potion-making skills.
The virtual room materialized around him, its familiar setup welcoming him back. The shelves were lined with all manner of ingredients, and the cauldron sat waiting for him, ready for another round of brewing. Harry approached the cauldron with a sense of purpose, his mind already formulating plans for enhancing the potion.
"Now, Master Harry, let's see if we can't add a bit of pizzazz to this rather mundane concoction," Nigel said, his voice echoing in Harry's mind.
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Harry, standing in the Virtual Potion Crafting Room, called in his assistant in his mind, Nigel, with a look of determination. "Nigel, please create a list of all materials. Then calculate how many experiments I have to conduct for each change, including manner of adding materials, preparations of materials, namely grinding, grating, cutting, throwing them whole, dusting, boiling time, simmering time, heat, stirring, for example clockwise, opposite, mixture, chaotic. There are four ingredients."
Nigel responded promptly, "Of course, Master Harry. Let's break it down systematically. For your Cure for Boils potion, you have four key ingredients: Nettle Leaves, Snake Fangs, Porcupine Quills, and Horned Slugs. Each element offers a unique variable to your experiment. Shall we begin with the Nettle Leaves?"
"Start with the grinding," Harry replied, his mind focused on the task at hand.
"For the Nettle Leaves, we have five preparation methods: fine, medium, and coarse grinding, grating, cutting, using them whole, and dusting. That will give you five separate experiments. Next, for boiling, try durations of 5, 10, and 15 minutes. As for simmering, experiment with low, medium, and high heat. Another six trials for you, Master Harry. Now, regarding the Snake Fangs..."
Harry nodded, jotting down notes. "And stirring?"
"A critical aspect indeed," Nigel continued. "For stirring, let's consider four methods: clockwise, counterclockwise, a mix of both, and a rather chaotic approach. Four trials for each ingredient, giving us sixteen in total."
Harry calculated the numbers. "So, for each ingredient, we have 5 (preparations) × 3 (boiling times) × 3 (simmering times and heats) × 4 (stirring methods), which equals 180 experiments per ingredient. With four ingredients, that's 720 experiments. What about adding the ingredients in different orders?"
"Ah, sequencing – a subtle but impactful variable. With four ingredients, you have 24 possible permutations. This will significantly affect the potion's outcome," Nigel explained.
"Adding those together," Harry concluded, "we have a grand total of 744 experiments to conduct. This is going to be an extensive project, Nigel."
Nigel nodded in agreement, "Indeed, Master Harry. But with meticulous planning and execution, I am certain we will find the optimal potion composition."
Harry pondered the daunting task ahead, realizing the immense scope of his experiment. "There will be more variables as we go on. That will increase numbers exponentially. There will be more than 1000 variations," he mused, surveying the expanse of the Virtual Potion Crafting Room. His eyes scanned the empty space, envisioning the complexity of the undertaking.
Nigel, in his mind, waited patiently, sensing Harry's gears turning. "Nigel, how many potions can I work on at the same time?" Harry finally asked, looking for efficiency in his approach.
Nigel, pleased with Harry's ambitious thought process, responded, "Depends on your mental capacity, Master Harry. The virtual environment can accommodate a significant number of concurrent experiments, limited only by your ability to manage them."
Harry hummed thoughtfully. "Create 100 cauldrons. Each cauldron should have a virtual screen for the variation I am testing. I should be able to see it with a look so I can do it without delay. Place cauldrons in a square so I can stay in the midst of them and can reach them quickly. Let's see if I can multitask."
Obediently, Nigel orchestrated the room's transformation. In moments, 100 cauldrons materialized, arranged in a perfect square formation around Harry. Each cauldron was accompanied by a virtual screen floating just above it, clearly displaying the specific variation being tested in that particular cauldron.
Harry, observing this impressive setup, smiled and rolled up his sleeves. "Let's begin," he declared with renewed vigor.
He started with the first cauldron, meticulously adding Nettle Leaves with the specified preparation. The virtual screen above glowed softly, indicating the precise parameters of the experiment – fine grinding, 5 minutes boiling, low heat simmering, and clockwise stirring. Harry's movements were methodical and precise, his focus unwavering.
Moving to the next cauldron, he adjusted the variables slightly – medium grinding this time, with a 10-minute boil. As he worked his way around the square, each cauldron presented a new combination of variables. The screens above provided a constant guide, ensuring no detail was missed.
Nigel, observing Harry's progress, offered occasional guidance. "Remember, Master Harry, consistency is key in potion-making. Even the slightest deviation can yield vastly different results."
Harry nodded, fully immersed in the task. He found a rhythm, seamlessly transitioning from one cauldron to the next, his movements becoming more fluid with each repetition. The room was a symphony of bubbling potions, each cauldron a unique instrument contributing to the orchestral experiment.
But not all experiments were successful. Some cauldrons exploded, causing a chain reaction that damaged those adjacent to them. Harry, undeterred by the setbacks and the stinging sensation from the virtual explosions, remained focused. "Show me the data for the exploding cauldron. Why did it fail?" he inquired, brushing off the remnants of the failed potion.
Nigel, ever the analytical assistant, replied, "Analyzing the data now, Master Harry. It appears the combination of a coarse grind, high heat, and chaotic stirring created an unstable reaction. The volatile nature of the Snake Fangs, when not properly integrated, can lead to such... explosive outcomes."
Harry, absorbing this information, nodded. "So, it's a matter of balance. Too much aggression in the process and it becomes uncontrollable."
"Quite so," Nigel agreed. "Potion-making is an art of precision. Like a tightrope walker, one must maintain balance, lest they fall into a rather unpleasant situation."
Harry moved to the next cauldron, adjusting his approach based on Nigel's feedback. He reduced the heat and opted for a more controlled stirring method. As he progressed, he continually checked the virtual screens, ensuring each variable was accurately applied.
As the hours passed, Harry's understanding of the interplay between ingredients, heat, and stirring deepened. He methodically documented each successful concoction and analyzed the failures to refine his technique further.
"Interesting," Harry mused after a particularly successful trial. "The same ingredients, yet such different outcomes based on how they're combined and manipulated."
"Indeed, Master Harry. The world of potion-making is full of surprises. One might say it's a cauldron of endless possibilities, some more explosive than others," Nigel quipped.
Harry couldn't help but smile at Nigel's comment. He continued, moving from one cauldron to the next, his movements now fluid and confident.
After several more hours, Harry stood back, taking in the sight of the numerous cauldrons, some simmering gently, others bubbling vigorously. He had tested a multitude of variations, each teaching him something new about the delicate craft of potion-making.
"Nigel, compile the results. I want to see the patterns, the successes, and the failures. There's a lot to learn from today's work," Harry requested, his mind teeming with curiosity and ideas.
"Compiling data now, Master Harry. You have conducted an impressive number of experiments. Your dedication to understanding each nuance is commendable," Nigel responded, processing the vast amount of information.
The screens above each cauldron flickered, displaying a comprehensive analysis of the day's trials. Harry walked around, studying the data, noting the successful combinations and the reasons behind the failures.
"See here, Nigel," Harry pointed to a particular set of results. "When I simmered the Horned Slugs at a medium heat and stirred clockwise, the potion's stability increased significantly."
"An astute observation, Master Harry. It seems that Horned Slugs require a gentle touch. Too much heat and they become rather disagreeable," Nigel noted.
Harry's gaze then shifted to another screen. "And here, the Snake Fangs. When ground finely and added after the Nettle Leaves, their reactivity was much more manageable."
"Indeed, the order of addition can be as crucial as the preparation itself. Like a well-orchestrated symphony, each ingredient must enter at the right moment," Nigel added.
Picture of 100 cauldrons(Check comments)
--
My lovely readers! My Original Novel is finally vetted! You can find it under my profile, or search its name, "Gunslinger System in a World of Sword and Magic" or search by abbreviation; GSWSM. I need support in my Original Novel please! There are 5.2k collection for Harry Potter and 1.6k for Naruto fic. I will publish another chapter(Harry Potter and Horyu chapter) for every 1000 collection in my original novel. Please support me! Thank you.
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It is the start of the new week. Please support me with Power Stones! Much appreciated!
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