Potions lab, suitcase world.
A massive black cauldron sat steady in the center of the room over a controlled magical flame. All around it were oddly shaped glass vials, scales, mortars, and knives. The air carried a sharp mix of herbs and metallic tang.
Lucien stood in front of the cauldron, holding a thick book bound in deep-green leather.
His eyes were fixed on one page that detailed a fairly new potion recipe—the Wolfsbane Potion.
"Wolfsbane Potion, invented by Damocles Belby. For his outstanding contribution to the werewolf problem, he was awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class," Lucien read quietly.
The potion's real miracle was simple: if a werewolf took it once a week, right before the full moon, they kept their mind after transforming and no longer lost control and attacked people.
Lycanthropy was, at its core, a curse.
Lucien's system task required him to improve three curse-related potions. Wolfsbane was one he had chosen.
He took a deep breath and started prepping. He laid out every ingredient on the worktable beside the cauldron: powdered moonstone, fluxweed, powdered bicorn horn, dittany juice, syrup of hellebore… each one carefully selected and prepped.
He picked up a small silver knife and began cutting the fluxweed. Its juice was strongly corrosive, so he worked with extreme care, slicing the stalks into even pieces before dropping them into the mortar. He added a splash of pure water and started grinding. A fresh herbal scent filled the air, but underneath it sat a faint, hard-to-place bitterness.
Once the fluxweed was fully crushed, he poured the juice into the cauldron. The magical flame adjusted itself to the perfect temperature and the liquid began to simmer gently. Next he added the moonstone powder, then the bicorn horn powder, following the recipe exactly. Each addition changed the brew: the moonstone turned it a soft blue, and the bicorn horn made it thick and viscous.
Lucien stayed completely focused, watching every shift inside the cauldron. His wand moved in small, precise arcs as he murmured complex incantations. He had to control the heat and stirring speed perfectly—one mistake and the whole batch would be ruined.
When the potion turned a silvery-blue, he picked up the dittany juice and carefully dripped it in. The mixture instantly boiled hard, throwing off thick clouds of steam and a much sharper smell.
Lucien flicked his wand fast, pouring in his own magic to stabilize it. Slowly the potion calmed, shifting from silvery-blue to a deep, rich purple.
Final step: the hellebore syrup. Extremely toxic. He used a dropper to measure exactly three drops and let them fall in. The potion surged again, then settled almost immediately into a clear, transparent liquid that glowed with a faint moonlight shimmer.
"Done," Lucien breathed, a small satisfied smile crossing his face. He lifted a clean glass bottle, poured the finished Wolfsbane Potion into it, and sealed it with a cork.
Staring at the clear liquid, he fell into thought.
The Wolfsbane Potion let werewolves keep their sanity during the full moon, but it didn't actually cure the curse. Werewolves bitten later in life got it from an attack. Those born with it carried the curse in their bloodline from the start.