Dawn flatly refused to pay a deposit, not even giving Giggs a chance to speak again before turning around and leaving.
But the real reason he didn't pay wasn't quite what he claimed.
It wasn't because he hadn't brought much money. The truth was much simpler — he was just broke and couldn't scrape together such a large sum.
After all— even though he received a generous allowance every month, for someone like Dawn, who spent money without any restraint, there was rarely much left by the end of the month.
At present, even pooling all his resources together, he would struggle to gather a hundred Galleons. And that was the result of years of reluctant savings.
But it didn't matter.
These problems had no impact whatsoever on Dawn placing an order with Giggs!
While Felix Felicis did have a market price, it was so rare that it usually circulated only within certain inner circles. If Giggs really could get his hands on some, there was no way Dawn would miss out!
As for the final payment issue...
Dawn figured that once school started, with the backing of being a Hogwarts student, he would surely find ways to make some money.
He pondered how he could apply his talents in alchemy. Still, even if he failed to earn anything, it wouldn't be a big deal.
Fingering the wand hidden in his robe sleeve, Dawn glanced sideways at the sign above the apothecary shop. Looks like I'll need to set aside some time to focus on practicing the Confundus Charm!
The journey home was smooth.
He arrived safely.
Following his plan, Dawn opened his first-year Potions textbook. The book looked thick.
But most of it was filled with potion theory and safety protocols. The actual brewing procedures only covered six potions.
The first was a cure for boils.
Dawn remembered this one particularly well — in the original story, Neville had made a mistake during the brewing process, causing his cauldron to spew out the wrong-colored potion.
After reading through the process twice carefully,
Dawn began his first hands-on attempt.
Until now, he had always thought potion-making was quite similar to Muggle chemistry experiments.
Both involved precise measurements and timed operations, using the reactions between substances to create something new.
But once he tried it himself, Dawn realized how wrong he had been.
In the wizarding world, even Potions had a distinct quality that defied strict scientific laws — something far more subjective.
Take, for example, the brewing process of the Boil-Cure Potion.
When describing ingredient quantities, the book used vague terms like "a suitable amount" or "a certain measure."
Even the timing for adding materials was worded as "at the proper moment after boiling."
Did this mean all wizards were idiots, incapable of standardizing procedures to increase success rates?
Of course not!
In fact, when brewing potions, a wizard's own magic would interfere with the reactions, and even their emotional state could influence how much of a material was needed or when to add it.
Under such conditions, rigid, mechanical instructions would only make the success rate plummet.
From Dawn's own experience,
Potion-making relied heavily on a subtle feeling.
That feeling would guide you on how much of an ingredient to take and when to add it to the cauldron. He thought — the sensitivity of this feeling was probably what separated those with talent from those without.
Grinding the snake fangs into powder, Dawn tossed them into the hot water where the dried nettles had already melted.
At the same time, he poured the slug slime into the cauldron and stirred slowly with his wand.
Now all he had to do was wait for the solution to boil, extinguish the fire, add porcupine quills, and the potion would be complete.
Looks like I have a knack for Potions too, Dawn thought proudly, lowering his head to check the potion's boiling state.
But just then!
Without any warning!
Just one glance— and Dawn was completely stunned.
In his vision multiple streams of magic, each from different ingredients, were intertwining inside the same cauldron, their intricate patterns tangling together!
But it wasn't just a simple pile-up!
Dawn saw it clearly.
The wave-like pattern belonging to the dried nettles' magic collided with the triangular pattern from the snake fangs' magic — and merged into a new droplet-shaped pattern!
And it wasn't an isolated case!
As the magic fused, many similar patterns combined, while others clashed and canceled each other out, vanishing without a trace!
Could this... be the true reaction process of magical energy?
Dawn stared, unable to recover for a long time.
It was just like witnessing a Muggle chemistry experiment where everything was laid bare, showing him the combination and separation of molecules and atoms on a microscopic level!
*Bang—!*
A sudden explosion!
The cauldron, which he had not yet added porcupine quills to, blew up. Brownish-red liquid surged into the air, splattering everywhere.
Without thinking, Dawn waved his wand, casting a Levitation Charm to catch the flying potion.
But afterward, he didn't even glance at the mess.
He only stood there, replaying the image in his mind. Something was off—he could feel it!
Instinct told him that what he had seen somehow contradicted the fundamentally idealistic nature of magic, becoming far too logical.
But no matter how he turned it over in his head, he couldn't pinpoint the exact problem.
Could it be...
Was his guess actually right? Could different magical patterns merge to form different effects?
Then could he, by stopping the brewing process just before or after a certain pattern formed, compare two versions of a potion and deduce the role that particular pattern played?
Of course, it would be impossible to time it perfectly, and many changes would happen simultaneously.
Still, this discovery pointed him toward an entirely new path! Recalling those dazzling, fascinating images, Dawn took a deep breath.
It felt as if he had opened a door to a whole new world, one he couldn't wait to dive into.
And so. Just like that. Time flowed by, day after day.
Before he knew it, September 1st had arrived. Dawn stared at the calendar on his desk for a long time before his sluggish brain finally caught up—oh right, school starts today.
He pushed open the window.
The accumulated smells of potions rushed out all at once.
On the desk nearby sat the fruits of his past ten days' labor— Dozens of vials containing strange and varied potions, some thin, some thick, some calm, some constantly bubbling.
The chill of the morning air woke him up a little.
Determined not to use magic, Dawn ran straight into the bathroom and splashed himself with cold water to force himself awake.
A glance at the clock.
Dawn quickly packed his books and supplies into his suitcase, then pulled out a leather wallet where he carefully stored the bottles of potion.
It was a magical item, enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm — something Dawn had bought from the goblins at Gringotts after exchanging his Galleons.
Grabbing his suitcase, Dawn headed out.
One more thing worth mentioning: he now had a cage in hand, containing a fat, puffy-cheeked toad.
This was his new pet.
Dawn hadn't initially planned to buy one.
He didn't want the hassle, and Hogwarts had school owls he could use to send letters. But in the end, he lacked the courage to drink the strange potions he had brewed.
So, a few days ago, he had returned to Diagon Alley to buy a toad — intending to take it with him to Hogwarts for potion testing.
After all, ever since ancient times, toads with high resistance to potions had been the favored companions of potion makers.