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BFH# Chapter 62: Alchemical Formulas and Quirrell
🕑 Added 2025-02-15 07:00:16 +0000 UTCVictor and Professor Philemon discussed the consultation matter for a while, primarily focusing on how to stabilize alchemical potions. In truth, Professor Philemon didnât have any particularly effective solutions, but he did mention one crucial point:
âConflicts between the properties of alchemical materials? The general solution is to find a magical item to act as a neutralizer. Common choices include unicorn blood, dragon hearts... but the best option is the Philosopherâs Stone.â
âThe Philosopherâs Stone?â Victor asked.
âThe Philosopherâs Stone is actually the most effective neutralizing agentâit can turn the impossible into reality,â Professor Philemon explained enthusiastically. âCanât turn stone into gold? No problem, just alter the nature of the stone. Canât combine materials into an elixir of immortality? No problem, just use the Philosopherâs Stone to neutralize the conflicts between powerful magical ingredients and force it into existence.
âThatâs why they say the Philosopherâs Stone is the crystallization of ancient alchemical wisdom. With it, nearly any problem can be solved.â
âI see.â
Victor nodded thoughtfully.
The Philosopherâs StoneâŠ
Wasnât that right beneath their feet?
His thoughts began drifting in a direction Dumbledore certainly wouldnât approve ofâŠ
Beside him, Professor Philemon curiously asked, âSo what kind of alchemical potion are you trying to create?â
âSomething akin to an alchemical homunculus capable of carrying a human soul, much like the ones used by ghosts. I thinkâŠâ
Squeak!
Before Victor could finish, the door of the adjacent faculty office creaked slightly. The professors turned to lookâwhat had been closed just moments ago now had a narrow gap, as if someone was trying to enter.
But when Professor Kettleburn stood up and pushed the door fully open to check, the hallway outside was empty.
âWho was it?â Professor Burbage asked in confusion.
âNo one. Probably some mischievous student or a ghost,â Kettleburn said.
...
Victorâs conversation with Professor Philemon soon came to an end. The professor kindly assured him that he would continue to keep an eye on the matter before hurrying off to his next class.
So, Victor left as well.
But as he rounded a corner, he found himself face-to-face with Quirinus Quirrell, who had been waiting there for some time.
Despite it being midday, the overcast sky cast little light on the deserted and dimly lit corridor.
Today, Quirrell was wrapped in his usual purple turban. In the third lesson of Muggle Studies, students were taught about the hidden meanings Muggles ascribe to colorsâpurple, for a long time, had been a symbol of nobility and dignity. It was unclear whether Quirrell had chosen it for this reason.
But at the very least, Victor was certain that the turban wasnât meant to ward off vampires.
âV-Victor, good afternoon.â At the sight of Victor, Quirrellâs lips curled into a twitchy, nervous smile.
âGood afternoon.â
Victor halted in his tracks.
âIs there something you need?â
âY-yes.â Quirrellâs smile widened slightly as he rubbed his hands together. âI happened to be passing by the faculty lounge earlier and overheard a bit of what you said. I-I didnât mean to eavesdrop, but I was curious.â
âWhere did you get that alchemical formula you mentioned?â
âI-I donât mean anything by it, itâs just that when I was in A-Albania, I heard about similar magic. Perhaps I might be able to h-help.â
Quirrellâs tone carried a hint of obsequiousness, but his gaze was locked onto Victor, lacking the usual nervousness. He wasnât even stuttering as much.
If Snape were here, he would have sneered and immediately begun interrogating Quirrell on when he had learned alchemy.
But Victor seemed unfazed and merely responded:
âThe formula? It originates from a remote island, not far from the town where I was born.â
âDo you remember what happened on that island at the time? I was thinking it might be relevant to your research.â Quirrell asked somewhat awkwardly. âO-or perhaps I could take a look at the formula?â
Victor did not refuse and said casually:
âThis formula is part of a large-scale alchemical ritual, modified by many hands over time. But originally, it emerged on a small island called Paradise Island, which endured ten great calamities.â
âTen calamities?â
âYes. It is said that each one was a special trial. Alchemists and sages from other regions deemed these trials unnecessary, as similar results could be achieved through alternative magical stepsâbut the islandâs inhabitants still underwent these primitive, bizarre rituals and ultimately welcomed the disasters.â
âThe ten calamities were: the Plague of Blood, the Plague of Frogs, the Plague of Lice, the Plague of Flies, the Plague of Livestock, the Plague of Boils, the Plague of Hail, the Plague of Locusts, the Plague of Darkness, and the Plague of the Firstborn.â
âLegend has it that those who endured all ten calamities would attain a soul beyond ordinary limits, gaining inhuman or even immortal powers.â
Quirrellâs expression stiffened slightly, his gaze locked onto Victor, wary. But before he could react, Victor nonchalantly pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it over.
âIf youâd like to study it, youâre welcome to help. I donât mind.â
âT-thank you.â
Quirrell forced a rigid smile and unfolded the parchment. A moment later, his hand trembled slightly.
âUh⊠w-what is this? Half a dozen lies? A mermaidâs voice?â His hands shook as he held the parchment. âThis doesnât seem like orthodox alchemy or potion-making.â
Victor shrugged.
âItâs certainly not the kind youâre used to.â
âBut this formula definitely works,â he said flatly. âIâm still searching for substitutes for some of the ingredients, but if you want to research it with me, I can lend it to youâon the condition that you share your findings with me.â
âO-oh, alright.â
Their conversation was practically a game of riddles, yet it proceeded smoothly because neither of them pierced through the thin veil between themâat least, Quirrell believed that to be the case.
And then, as if preordained, Victor spoke the words Quirrell had half-expected:
âSo, what do you have to offer in return?â
