Chapter 33: Bargaining (Part 1)
Warren did not dwell on his chance encounter with Dumbledore. Their conversation had not been mere pleasantries. By playing the fool, Dumbledore was subtly letting Warren know that he was aware of the Room of Requirement and had been keeping tabs on him. The invitation to try the lavatory was a test designed to see whether Warren was willing to behave and to gauge his attitude toward the Headmaster. Consequently, Warren had declined, plainly stating his current goal. He simply wished to research potions. He wanted to be left alone.
There was a saying from his past life: a gentleman can be reasoned with. Dumbledore was hardly a gentleman. Yet regardless of what conspiracy theorists might speculate, one thing remained undeniable: he operated within the rules. He disliked forcing people to do his bidding. He had no love for abusing his power. He preferred to guide people, exploit their weaknesses, and achieve his goals within the bounds of what was permissible.
This was not a trait Dumbledore was born with. It was forged over his long life through several devastating heartbreaks and lessons. There was Ariana, dead in Godric's Hollow. There was Grindelwald, a friend turned enemy. There was even Tom Riddle. During the dark years of Voldemort's reign, Dumbledore often looked back with regret. He regretted that, upon their first meeting, he had attempted to dominate Tom with a display of power. He had used that strength to compel a child into submission, and that child had spent his life seeking power, only to be devoured by it.
Understanding Dumbledore's character and history, Warren had never feared him or held any hostility toward him. If it had been Voldemort standing there, Warren would have fired a spell at him and run without a second thought. He liked people who played by the rules, even if he did not always follow them himself. It was a flexible sort of morality.
The next day, when Warren went to visit Professor Snape, he mentioned his meeting with the Headmaster and remarked cheerfully, "The Headmaster is a good man."
Snape's expression gave nothing away. Something felt off, though he lacked the energy to determine whether Warren's tone carried sincerity or mockery.
Today's lesson was not held in the dungeon. They had relocated to the Quidditch pitch instead, by Snape's decision.
Late September was fading into October, and the Scottish Highlands had grown bitter. Dark, leaden clouds blanketed the sky while a cutting wind drove freezing rain across the field.
Despite the miserable conditions, the Gryffindor team pressed on with practice. Oliver Wood swayed on his broom as gusts buffeted him, swallowing rain every time he opened his mouth, yet still bellowing instructions at full volume.
His teammates looked bloodless, their complexions ashen with cold. Young Harry kept slipping from his broom, shaking so violently he could not keep his spectacles on.
Even die-hard Gryffindors would have chosen the common room over supporting the team in this weather. The stands stood empty, save for Ron and Hermione huddled beneath an overhang in their raincoats.
Warren and Snape cut an unmistakable figure at the pitch's edge, shielded by Impervius and Bubble Head Charms.
"You see that?" Wood bellowed. "Slytherin's scared of us. They sent their Head of House and their best student to spy on us. Are we going to let them look down on us? Where's your passion? Where's your fight? Harry, shout! Show Slytherin what you're made of."
Harry's teeth chattered.
The twins could not help but make a comment.
"What can he possibly spot in this weather? Look at Harry, he's frozen!"
"Wood has gone mad, Fred. Ever since his plan to use Harry as a secret weapon fell through, his brain has turned to mush."
Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson, a windswept mess, clung to her broom and shouted, "Damn you, Wood. I curse you! I hope you turn into a woman plagued by perpetual PMS and get caught in rainstorms every single day."
The Gryffindor team was speechless.
Seeing the Gryffindors' miserable state, Snape gave a satisfied snort.
"Foolish team. Foolish Potter."
Warren instinctively tuned out the venom Snape directed at Harry. He smiled as he watched Fred, George, and Harry, who were on the verge of collapse.
"Professor, do you like Quidditch?"
Snape's face was blank. "Foolish sport."
"Then why did you bring me here?"
Snape's cheek gave a faint twitch. He offered no reply. Instead, he asked in his slow, drawling voice, "You have finished reading the books. When do you intend to begin refining the magical extraction method?"
"Not yet, Professor," Warren explained. "I need to delve deeper into Potions first. I must brew several advanced concoctions to familiarize myself with the rituals involved. Only then can I begin studying the ingredients."
Snape mulled this over. "Dumbledore has informed me that you also wish to develop new potions."
"Yes. Perfecting the magical extraction method will not yield quick results. Every ingredient has a multitude of properties. Some appear in known recipes, while others do not. But that does not mean they are useless. If I want to build a universal model, I must understand all of them. I need to know their effects, how extraction methods are similar or different, and whether combining them produces new outcomes. At the very least, I need to establish a reasonably clear catalogue of all this."
It was a monumental undertaking. Snape glanced at Warren.
Warren remained perfectly calm. "Even after extracting the properties, I cannot immediately determine their effects. I can only make vague guesses, particularly for ingredients not found in known recipes. To identify their effects fully, I will need to develop new potions. I plan to make the magical extraction method my life's work, Professor. But I cannot simply say 'I am still working on it' forever. Developing new potions will both verify my theories and bridge the gap until I perfect the technique."
Snape was at a loss for words. His blank expression and lifeless eyes betrayed nothing. After a long pause, he snorted, "Ignorant and fearless." He paused again, then added, "But not arrogant."
Warren smiled, unfazed. "I have always believed you should have ambitious goals, but you also need to keep your feet on the ground."
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