Backdated:27th of August 2019

Hexcode= #507091

Never had Sylvain thought he would bear witness to such a marvelous agglomeration of fascinating elements. Their mere existence was puzzling, and immediately authentically concerning.

As he pondered the ramifications of the concentration of ingredients within such a space, he shuddered to think about the possibilities each fragment within the store contained, and thus his curiosity regarding potions was catalyzed. It wasn’t the concept that magical flora and fauna or their proceeding mixture would be powerful, but the concept that some formula yet lay in wait.

If only he had a better understanding or grasp of potions, he would then apply himself to its practice. Sylvain considered that if he were to make progress in this endeavor he would need to spend time reading his newest collection of books, all of which had been procured according to the list provided by Hogwarts, but he still had the time to memorize each and every component available within the Apothecary Shop. The image of each ingredient filled the pages of his memory like a book of photographs. He also added several new questions to his growing collection.

What is a Boomslang?

What kind of potion used Flobberworm mucus?

How does somebody collect dragon blood? Does it hurt the dragon?

As Sylvain left the apothecary, he thought to himself: “I will read Arsenius Jigger’s Drafts and Potions on the train ride. After all, it is going to be a nine hour train ride without anything else for me to do, right?”/i][/b]

Forward Dated: 28th of August 2020

Hexcode= #507091

Quite a bit of time had passed since Sylvain's last visit to the Apothecary shop in Diagon alley. None the less distracted ever since, the lad's bonded fascination with all things alchemical still bordered on the edge of obsession. Mercurial by nature his fixation on the results of his experiments during just the first year at Hogwarts were by far the most satisfying release of his genius he'd ever achieved. As a result he'd gotten ahead of himself in the early summer. Undeterred by the incident, Syl carried around his very own copy of Moste Potente Potions no matter what he was doing the book was with him all summer. Methodically he had read the text from front to back, various passages were now speeches he could rumble into. Piles of notes littered his possessions, magnitudes of lists had been constructed. Amalgamated from his own knowledge, Sylvain had compiled his own thumb-book for ingredients.

Nights in his tent had distilled his mind into the purest tincture of curiosity, the imbibement of which pushed his discoveries to the edges of what meager methods muggle chemistry had allowed him to do previously. Whimsically the boy wasted his summer nights finding antidotes to all of his varied curiosities, and in the process learned of far more about poisonous substances than overcooked grapes. Vast quantities of brewing ingredients were memorized here the very summer before fall classes began. Classified by memorization of their availability, potency, and preparation, his collection of knowledge had grown with the book's steady supply of expert level information. Sylvain's mind worked as a sponge would, absorbing any residue of information the book still contained within its stable pages.

Boomslangs were colubrid snakes whose skin was an absolutely vital ingredient in the creation of polyjuice potions. Though the serpents mostly preyed upon birds, the slithering thieves often resorted to snatching eggs from nests left unattended. Boomslang venom was a highly lethal compound if digested, or administered correctly. Collecting such quantities of venom required a live boomslang, as the species is endemic to the Sub-Saharan regions of Africa. Such a remote and potent resource was likely far from most London brewer's grasps. Still the skin itself was listed at fourteen sickles, and such a price would deter all but those most desperately in need of looking like another for a little while.

Flobberworm mucus is best when utilized as a thickening or binding agent for potions that require an increased viscosity. Definitely used in certain physical potions like the Sleeping Draught and its antidote the Wiggenwald potion, the gelatinous substance could be used to combine goopier potions such as the environmental herbicide which demanded a nearly unwieldy texture to achieve maximum efficiency. Flobberworm mucus is even so commonly used in the Cure for Boils potion that mischievous con-wizards sell it to muggles as a knock-off wart remover cream.

Dragon blood, expensive to purchase bottled and distinguishable from human blood to experts by its taste alone, is a potent ingredient which possesses a dozen discovered uses. All twelve of which are credited to none other than the foremost expert on potions himself, Albus Dumbledore. Unless you ask Ivor Dillonsby of course. Two of the more well known uses were curing veruca, or boils on the feet, as well as cleaning one's oven in a flash. Any harvesting methods employed to draw blood from dragons were closely guarded secrets that only dragon breeders and their staff kept, likely under sworn secrecy. It was up to the conscience of the merchant to trust the breeders who provided substance. Sylvain saw no reason to distrust the verity of the Diagon Alley Apothecary Shop's methods. Besides, what other choice did the budding brewer have?

Plenty of other important bits of information had been learned, memorized, categorized, and stored for recall later. Bezoars were antidotes to nearly any kind of poison when swallowed whole, the ease of which seemed to alleviate the need for most potions calling for it as an ingredient. An ode to potion-maker's ability to overthink something simple, or perhaps an ode to their ability to distill it into multiple doses. Still the young chemister studied the potions that did call for its addition in their list of ingredients. Noting that every ingredients list was equally provided with room for improvement upon the original design, Phineas mentioned that replacing some ingredients in some potions proved to be a viable possibility. Given the truly limited nature of the Ministry's understanding of potions, and that many potions might possess alternative ingredients lists suggests that a wizard in short supply of one ingredient might still achieve their desired effects with varying results.

The boy would likely spend his life searching for a breakthrough. Swelling solution could be concocted using bat spleens, puffer-fish eyes and dried nettle perhaps. Doxy eggs, while poisonous might be used to brew the offensively odorous Girding potion which ironically makes one's health somehow feel healthier. The line between poison and potion had been lectured thoroughly and regurgitated often. If one let the balance of the scales dip slightly in favor of caustic vitriol, then poison was made. If one took care to tip the scales ever so slightly towards balance one got a potion. Though thin, perhaps transparent, the line was still clear as day. Nothing was finished until identified by a highly routine processes which had been completed in an orderly fashion. Cleanliness, Respect, and Diligence were important compounds to keep in stock.

Most ingredients possessed few magical qualities on their own, and those that did often called for intense preparation and carefully calculated measurement. Precise numbers mattered far more than intuition when following formulas and letting yourself get imprecise was the most egregious of errors. Wearing your gloves isn't just recommended, it is vital to your continued existence and if you wanted to be a notable potions-maker you needed at least a half dozen discoveries under your belt by the time you were sixty. Those who mixed less, saw less results and therefore got weeded out in the vast solution. The vast solution being the majority of wizards who thought they had what it took to be real pioneering potions-makers.

Understanding potions far more than he'd ever understood any of his classmates, Sylvain loaded his mind with any information available to him and began cross-analyzing the variety of available ingredient's effects. Merely pondering the lists answered questions he'd formulated on the journey to Hogwarts for the first time. It was comforting to be in a confined space, surrounded by ingredients with purpose and potential. Filling his basket with a few specific ingredients, Sylvain produced the payment for the apothecary register's attendant. "Thank you lad," they said, face growing into an expression of inquiry. "I see you've got some wood lice there. What're you fixing to brew up with them?"

Suppressing a giggle he confessed the lice weren't an ingredient."I'm going to feed them to Bowtruckles." Kindly with a smile, and before the shopkeeper could ask what he was doing with the rest of his ingredients, the lad chimed in. It was meant to be a playful declaration that the shop was out of important stock. "You're awfully low on Horklump Juice to still be called an apothecary." The shopkeeper's eyes matched the boys as the two paused, shortly after sharing a bursting laugh. They would no doubt be seeing each other again with increasing frequency as Sylvain grew old enough to brew his own potions. For now he'd see what trouble a herbicide might provide, and maybe feed some bowtruckles in the process.