Alan quickly ruled out Baruffio's Brain Elixir and Veritaserum for his initial business venture. The Brain Elixir had unforgiving material requirents; even a minor discrepancy in ingredient quality could result in permanent brain damage for the consur. As for Veritaserum, his reasoning was the sa as it had been for healing drafts: what law-abiding wizard would actually need such a thing?
That left the Draught of Euphoria and the Eternal Potion as his primary candidates.
The description for the Eternal Potion—a potion that never runs out—wasn't entirely accurate. From Alan's perspective, it functioned more like a magical additive. If a wizard had at least a quarter of a bottle of a specific draft remaining, adding Eternal Potion would catalyze a reaction that turned the entire mixture back into the original substance. Except for extrely rare concoctions like Felix Felicis, it was a perfect substitute that offered long-lasting effects. However, the ingredients were difficult to source and prohibitively expensive outside of Hogwarts, making the initial cost a bit too high for Alan's current budget.
The Draught of Euphoria, however, was in high demand. It induced a state of intense happiness and was frequently used by wizards during warti to manage stress and anxiety. Most of its ingredients were manageable, but the core component—a whole Mandrake fruit—commanded a high price on the open market.
"Wait a minute," Alan said, a mory clicking into place. He turned to Hagrid. "Hagrid, didn't you ntion last ti that you saw a patch of Mandrakes about to ripen in the Forbidden Forest?"
"Uh, yeah. I saw them while I was doing my rounds earlier. It's just about the right ti for them to bear fruit," Hagrid replied, punctuating the sentence with a hearty burp.
"Hagrid, when are you heading back into the forest? Could I go with you? I'd like to collect so of those fruits."
Hagrid imdiately shook his head. "No, the Forbidden Forest is far too dangerous for a student. This isn't a joke, Alan. If you got hurt in there, I'd never be able to explain it to the Headmaster." He paused, seeing Alan's disappointnt. "If it's just Mandrake fruit you need, I'll pick so for you on my next patrol. I just don't want you wandering into those trees."
"Really? That would be fantastic! They need to be the light purple, enchanted variety, and they must be whole," Alan said, delighted by the offer.
"Don't you worry. I know that forest like the back of my hand. I know exactly what you're looking for. Next ti you co by, I'll have a whole basket waiting for you," Hagrid assured him confidently.
Alan let out a sigh of relief. With the main material cost effectively neutralized, his plan was finally viable. He chatted with Hagrid for a while longer before making his way back to the castle.
A few weeks later, Alan stared at the basket Hagrid presented. It contained at least a dozen pri Mandrake fruits. He couldn't help but marvel at the situation; Hagrid was essentially an accidental millionaire. With the Forbidden Forest at his disposal, the man could have made a fortune just by selling raw materials if he had any interest in wealth.
Alan decided not to take the basket back to the Slytherin dungeons. He couldn't brew there without being discovered, and sneaking into the Potions classroom after hours was too risky. He planned to bring his portable cauldron and tools to the hut and brew his first batch there.
Back in his dormitory, Alan opened the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He had found a recipe for Euphoria within its pages, but he needed to study the Prince's specific modifications.
"Adding a tiny sprig of peppermint can significantly balance the side effects? Is that true?" Alan noted that the Prince loved to include these personal observations, rewriting large sections of the standard text. The modifications piqued his curiosity, and he decided to follow the Prince's refined thod for his first batch.
He didn't stop at the Euphoria recipe. The Prince clearly had profound insights into the nature of brewing, though Alan remained wary of whether it was genius or re arrogance. He decided to read the entire book cover to cover.
"Sectumsempra? For enemies?" Alan muttered, coming across a spell scribbled into the margins. "Shadowless Divine Slash... sounds intimidating."
He had no imdiate intention of testing the incantation. Until he understood the character of this Prince, he wasn't going to ddle with unknown magic. For all he knew, the Prince could have been a madman, and a single casting could be fatal for the user or the target.
By the ti the next weekend arrived, November had settled over the highlands. The weather turned bitingly cold, and students across the castle had swapped their sumr robes for heavy wool. A flu outbreak was making its way through the houses, exacerbated by the constant, exhausting skirmishes between Gryffindor and Slytherin. House points were being bled away daily, but Alan remained untouched by the chaos.
He packed his cauldron, ingredients, and several glass vials. As he walked toward the hut, he considered using so of the finished potions as Christmas gifts.
When he arrived, he noticed the green onions he had planted were thriving under Hagrid's care. Even more surprising was the new stone stove erected outside the hut, topped with the large iron wok he had ordered.
"The pot arrived!" Alan exclaid.
Hagrid t him at the door, beaming. "The stove works a treat, doesn't it? What are we cooking in that big pot later?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself. I ca early today to brew so potions," Alan said, amused by Hagrid's single-minded focus on dinner. "We can talk about food once I've finished the work."
Alan laid out his tools on Hagrid's massive wooden table. He felt a slight twinge of guilt—so of his supplentary herbs had been "borrowed" from the school greenhouses, and his vials had been liberated from the Potions classroom. He asked Hagrid to keep watch while he worked, feeling a bit like a thief, but one with a very specific, ambitious goal.
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