The main ingredients of the Blue Moon Essence were dragon blood to strengthen the body, Dragonhead leaves to sharpen the mind, moon dew to attune the potion to lunar magic, and Starlight Bear Fruit to expand the body's magical reserves. The supporting ingredients included moonstone powder, blue rose petals, glowworm powder, and liquorice root.
The formula sounded beautiful on parchment, but beauty was expensive. A complete set of ingredients cost twenty Galleons, and that was before counting the tools, stabilising charms, and all the ruined cauldrons Roger had already sacrificed to failure.
Not only was the potion costly, but the brewing process was brutally complex. Every step demanded absolute care, and even the smallest mistake could ruin the entire batch. Roger had already burned through eight hundred Galleons, experimenting day and night, and all he had gained so far was a thick notebook full of failures.
Roger spread the notebook open and wrote down the details of his fortieth experiment. Then he collapsed onto the sofa, biting the end of his quill as he stared at the ceiling and sank into thought.
At first, Jessica had been able to guide him. But once Roger truly began working through the Blue Moon Essence formula, even she could no longer offer much help. From that point on, Roger could only rely on his simulation ability, repeating the process over and over, making mistakes, comparing results, and slowly inching forward.
Roger knew perfectly well that this advanced potion was far beyond his current level. Trying to force his way through it was reckless, but his magical limit of two point three felt like a tight band wrapped around his throat. He had no choice but to grit his teeth and find a way past it.
Every time he failed, Roger carefully recorded the operation process, the timing, the temperature, the wand movements, and the changes in the liquid inside the cauldron. Then he compared those details with the practical notes in the recipe, hunting for mistakes he could avoid the next time.
To waste as little time as possible, he practically lived in the underground laboratory. When he was hungry, he asked Bubble to bring food, and when he was exhausted, he slept on the small bed beside the workbench. If Jessica had not come down every day to check on him, she might have begun worrying about whether her son was still mentally sound.
The financial loss was only secondary. What truly wore him down was the frustration that accumulated with every failed batch. Roger was grateful for the stubborn will he had tempered under the Dementors' influence, because without it, repeated defeat might have crushed him long ago.
"Roger, you need rest." Jessica entered the laboratory carrying a cup of hot milk, then held out her hand and ordered him to give her the notebook. Her tone made it clear there would be no negotiation.
"Mum, I'm almost there. Please, just a little longer." Roger hugged Jessica around the waist and shook her gently, trying his best to act pitiful.
"No." Jessica pushed away her son, who was shamelessly attempting to look cute. She made him drink the milk, took away the notebook, and watched him climb into bed.
Roger had no choice but to lie down under Jessica's sharp gaze. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, already planning to sneak back to the workbench as soon as she left.
Unfortunately, the drowsiness came much harder than he expected. The moment his eyes closed, sleep dragged him under without warning. Jessica covered him with a blanket, then picked up Yuumi, who had jumped onto the bed, and carried the cat away.
"Little master, the ingredients have been bought!" Bubble's Apparition was indeed convenient, and the little elf appeared with a loud crack, excitedly raising the bag above his head.
"Bubble." Jessica tapped Bubble firmly on the head and gave him a warning look. The house-elf immediately understood and handed the bag over to the mistress instead.
Roger slept from six in the evening until six the following evening, a full day and night. When he finally sprang out of bed, he felt refreshed, and after dinner, his eyes fixed hopefully on Jessica.
"Not today. Sleep properly tonight, and I'll give it back to you tomorrow morning." Jessica shook her head, already deciding that her son's schedule required strict management.
"All right." Roger pouted and looked toward Bubble, but the house-elf lowered his head in defeat. He clearly wanted to help his little master steal the ingredients back from the mistress, but he did not have the courage to betray Jessica.
The next morning, Roger grabbed his laboratory notes the instant Jessica allowed it and rushed into the basement. Jessica watched his retreating figure helplessly, thinking that once this final batch of materials was used up, he would finally have to stop and rest.
She believed in her son's talent, but belief had limits. Without systematic training, no young wizard could brew a high-level potion properly using nothing but books, magical recipes, and stubbornness.
Roger touched the laboratory bench after two days away, and it somehow felt unfamiliar beneath his fingers. Sunlight streamed through the narrow window, carrying tiny dust motes through the beam.
"Scourgify." Roger waved his old wand, and the laboratory became spotless in an instant. Workbenches gleamed, the floor shone, and not a trace of dust remained in the air.
"Bubble, bring over the ingredients." Roger rolled up his sleeves and forced his breathing to steady.
Failure came quickly. Then came another failure, and another after that. The potion either split, darkened, curdled, smoked, or burst apart just before stabilisation.
"We can't afford to fail again." Roger looked at the last set of materials and pressed his lips together. His mother had made it very clear that she would not give him another Galleon of pocket money.
He closed the notebook for a moment, helplessly ground the moonstone into fine powder, and tried to calm his mind. Panic ruined potion-making faster than clumsy hands, and he could not allow either.
Moonstone powder was used to absorb and filter impurities from dragon blood. Unlike the noble dragons of old fairy tales, dragons in the wizarding world were more like enormous winged reptiles, violent by nature and notoriously difficult to tame.
Even adult wizards had difficulty using dragon blood directly, let alone a young wizard. If the impurities were not properly removed, the potion would become unstable before the core reaction even began.
Roger's movements had become increasingly skilled after so many attempts. He ground the moonstone to an astonishing fineness, and through repeated experiments, he had determined that the ideal powder texture was between eight hundred and one thousand mesh. If it was too coarse, it could not fully purify the dragon blood; if it was too fine, the moonstone powder itself would mix into the blood and pollute the base.
Inside the long test tube, the blood of a Hungarian Horntail shimmered darkly. When Roger poured in twenty grams of moonstone powder, the dragon blood immediately turned cloudy.
As the moonstone slowly settled, the blood above it became purer and clearer. Finally, it resembled the finest emerald, transparent and brilliant, without a single visible impurity.
After layer upon layer of refinement, this hard-won dragon blood was finally ready for the potion. Roger carefully sealed the test tube, and for the first time that morning, he allowed himself a small breath of relief.
"Roger, that Muggle named Andrew is here." Jessica knocked on the laboratory door just as Roger began processing the herbs. Her tone carried curiosity, but also a faint warning.
"Andrew?" Roger carefully put away the dragon blood and frowned. What was Andrew doing here at a time like this?
"Mum, did he say what it was about?" Roger asked, already feeling that it was unlikely to be good news.
"It seems to be about a place in the Muggle world called Moscow." Jessica glanced at him, clearly waiting to see how he would react.
"Moscow?" Roger's head snapped up. "What's the date today?"
"August sixteenth. There are still two weeks before school starts." Jessica's expression sharpened. "Why are you suddenly asking that?"
"Three days left." Roger thought for a moment, then decided he had to meet his asset manager. The potion could wait, but history would not.
"Andrew, what happened?" Roger came into the garden and found Andrew pacing in circles, excitement written across his entire face.
"Roger, I asked my cousin Thompson to get me several newspapers from the Soviet Union." Andrew grabbed Roger's arm and eagerly pulled out the papers. "This is today's Izvestia. Look here."
Andrew pointed at an article, his voice brimming with undisguised delight. "Yakovlev said there is a coup being planned inside the Communist Party, and he was the Soviet propaganda chief. From June until now, the Soviet Union has stopped paying principal and interest on its foreign debt for almost three months. Add the turmoil that is about to happen, and Roger, you bet correctly."
"Keep your voice down." Roger quickly pulled Andrew aside, mainly to prevent Jessica from asking whether they had already reclaimed the house from the bank.
"Most people in the City still haven't received the news, but the market has already begun fluctuating." Andrew lowered his voice at once, but the excitement in his eyes did not fade.
"Have our counterparties blown up?" Roger frowned. It was only August sixteenth, and the real show had not even started yet.
"Not yet." Andrew quickly shook his head. "I came to ask what we should do next."
He hesitated, then reminded Roger in a whisper, "If the market recovers, we will need to keep adding margin."
Roger carefully recalled the Soviet Union's bewildering moves that August. Once things began sliding downhill there, it would feel as if someone had stepped on the accelerator and welded the gearbox shut.
"The August nineteenth coup, the August twenty-fifth resignation…" Roger paced back and forth in the pavilion, thinking quickly. Then he suddenly stopped.
"If the market recovers before the end of the month, do not hesitate. Increase the position heavily." Roger's appetite was enormous; he had not joined this feast merely to sip soup from the edge of the table.
"If you run out of money, go to Thompson. Besides what he promised before, he can also lend me Galleons from the Ministry of Magic." Roger's tone was calm, as if borrowing from the Ministry were no more troublesome than asking a neighbour for sugar.
"Um, Roger, aren't wizarding Galleons kept in Gringotts?" Andrew looked at him suspiciously. He was a Squib, not an idiot, and he would not be fooled so easily about wizarding matters.
"You don't need to know why." Roger waved the question away. "In any case, the Ministry of Magic owes my family hundreds of thousands of Galleons."
"Hundreds of thousands?" Andrew's eyes widened, and for a moment even his professional composure cracked.
"Remember my words. Don't be afraid, and don't let me down." Roger patted Andrew on the arm, then personally saw him off.
Roger turned around and saw Jessica standing in the doorway of the living room. He stiffened at once, then quickly gave an awkward smile. "Mum, the weather is really nice today."
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