The atmosphere at the table shifted the moment Adrian Delacour handed Albert that scrap of parchment. To any onlooker, it was just a piece of paper, but to Albert, it was a summons. The handwriting was cramped, precise, and unmistakably that of Hertok Dagworth-Liversidge. It didn't have a greeting or a signature; it just said: "The synthesis is stalling. Your perspective might be the catalyst."
Albert looked up at Adrian, who was currently wearing a grin that suggested he'd just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.
"Hertok mentioned you were a bit of a skeptic when it comes to strangers," Adrian said, his French rolling off his tongue with a melodic, playful quality. "I'm Adrian Delacour. I'm the brother of that 'helpful' fellow you met in the papers, and—much to the chagrin of the more serious members of the guild—I am also a Potions Master."
Albert took a long look at the man. Adrian didn't have the brooding, grease-stained aura of Severus Snape, nor did he have the clinical, slightly detached air of Hertok. He looked like a man who enjoyed a good bottle of wine and a long nap in the sun.
"You don't exactly fit the profile, Monsieur," Albert said, his expression flickering with a rare moment of genuine amusement. "I always pictured Potions Masters as people who spent too much time in dark basements. You look like you've spent the last week on a yacht."
Adrian winked, leaning in closer. "The secret to a good potion isn't just the ingredients, Albert. It's the mood. A miserable brewer makes a bitter Draught. Hertok will be reaching out soon—officially, this time. He's stuck on a project with a mutual friend, and he's convinced your 'unorthodox' brain is what they need. If you're bored with skiing, you should come and see what we're bubbling."
Albert shook his head, glancing at his family who were watching the exchange like a tennis match. "I'm on holiday, Adrian. And as much as I love a good cauldron, I can't exactly ditch my family. They don't speak a word of French, and I'm pretty sure my father would walk into a ravine without a translator."
"No rush, no rush!" Adrian laughed, straightening up. "We'll be in touch. In the meantime, try the cured meats here. They're nearly as good as the ones we make at the manor. Au revoir, Mr. Anderson!"
As the Delacours moved off toward their own table, the Anderson family exploded with questions. Nia was the first to break.
"Werewolves?" she hissed, her eyes wide. "Did that man seriously just talk about werewolves over lunch? Are they real? Like, full-moon, howling, hair-everywhere real?"
"They're very real, Nia," Albert said, returning his attention to his meal. "But they aren't like the ones in the movies. They don't wear torn jeans and wander around London. It's a tragic condition—a magical blood infection. Most of them spend their lives in hiding because the world is too afraid to help them."
Daisy, however, was less interested in monsters and more interested in the practical applications of magic. "And the beauty things? That 'Louise' girl... she was far too pretty to be natural. Is there a potion for that?"
Albert chuckled. "There is a Beauty Elixir. It works, in a way. It clears the skin, brightens the eyes, and gives you a bit of a glow. But it's like heavy makeup—you have to keep taking it, and eventually, the body gets used to it. Personally, I think it's a waste of gold. If you want to look good, you're better off with a good night's sleep and a balanced diet."
"That sounds like something a doctor tells you when they don't want to give you the good medicine," Daisy muttered, though she looked thoughtful.
"He's right, dear," Herbert added, though he looked slightly green. "I walked into one of those 'Apothecaries' Albert likes. I saw a jar of pickled toad livers and something that looked like a dried human ear. If that's what goes into beauty products, I think you're better off with Boots' No. 7."
Nia frowned. "If exercise worked, everyone would be beautiful. People want shortcuts, Albert. That's what magic is for, isn't it?"
"Magic is a tool, not a shortcut," Albert corrected gently. "And usually, the shortcuts in magic have the nastiest side effects."
Later that evening, after the family had settled into the suite and the fire was roaring in the hearth, a small, silver-wrapped package appeared on Albert's bedside table. Inside was a hand-held mirror with a polished obsidian frame and a note from Hertok.
"A two-way mirror?" Albert murmured, feeling the cool stone.
Nia, who was currently trying to teach Tom how to play 'fetch' with a crumpled-up receipt, hopped onto the bed. "What's that? Another magic thing?"
"It's like a video call, Nia. But without the wires or the lag," Albert explained. He propped the mirror up on the desk.
Tom, sensing a new object to claim, immediately trotted over and tried to sit directly in front of the glass, his fluffy tail swishing against the obsidian.
"Get down, you fat lump," Albert complained, hoisting the cat away just as the surface of the mirror began to ripple like water.
A moment later, the reflection of the room vanished, replaced by the tired, lined face of Hertok Dagworth. Behind him, Albert could see the blurred shapes of shelves filled with glass vials and a large, simmering copper cauldron.
"It's good to see you, Albert," Hertok said, his voice sounding clear as if he were standing in the room. "I trust Adrian found you without too much trouble? He has a habit of being... loud."
"He was hard to miss," Albert said. "And he told me about the bet. Or the 'trick,' as you called it."
Hertok sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Damocles Belby is a brilliant man, but he has no head for public relations. He has spent years developing the Wolfsbane Potion. It's a masterpiece of brewing, Albert. It allows a werewolf to keep their human mind during the transformation. They just curl up like a tired dog until the sun comes up. No killing, no madness."
Nia poked her head into the frame, staring at the mirror in awe. "That sounds amazing! Why isn't he famous?"
Hertok looked surprised to see a young girl in the mirror but gave a polite nod. "Because the ingredients cost a fortune, and the brewing process is so volatile that even a Master can ruin a batch with one wrong stir. The Ministry won't fund it because they don't care about 'creatures,' and the werewolves can't afford it because nobody will hire them."
"So you're trying to help him gain recognition," Albert mused. "The bet at the club... it was a way to get people talking."
"Exactly. If he wins an award, the Ministry can't ignore it. But we're stuck. The potion is too complex. We need to simplify the stabilizers without losing the potency. Adrian thinks we need more fire; I think we need a better catalyst. Damocles... well, Damocles is starting to lose hope."
"I'd love to help, Hertok. Really. But I'm on a family trip," Albert said, gesturing to the room around him.
"I know, I know. That's why I sent the mirror. We don't need you in the lab—not yet. But I want to send you the notes. Look over the ratios. Tell me what your 'out-of-the-box' brain sees. Sometimes the masters are too close to the cauldron to see the steam."
"I'll take a look," Albert promised. "But no guarantees. I'm only a second-year, remember?"
Hertok let out a small, weary laugh. "You haven't been a 'second-year' since the day you walked into Gringotts, Albert. Talk soon."
The mirror went dark, returning to a normal reflection of Albert and a very confused-looking Tom.
In a small, cramped laboratory in southern France, Damocles Belby looked over at Hertok as the mirror connection died. "That was him? The boy you've been raving about? He looks like he should be worrying about his homework, not the molecular stability of Wolfsbane."
Hertok began tidying his stirring rods. "Don't let the age fool you, Damocles. That boy has a way of looking at a formula and seeing the flaws before the ink is dry. He improved my own Draught of Living Death in twenty minutes. If anyone can find the shortcut we're looking for, it's him."
Damocles grunted, looking back at his bubbling cauldron with a skeptical frown. "I hope you're right, Hertok. Because if we don't fix this stability issue, the only thing this potion is going to do is blow up the next person who tries to brew it."