Polyjuice Potion and the squib
Introduction:
Squib tries to produce some polyjuice potion for interesting experiments…
Here goes nothing…
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*****Polyjuice Potion and the squib*******
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I remember how it all started. It started the day my sister got the letter. I had been expecting it to come – always hoping against hope that she would be a squib like me. Then I wouldn’t feel so inferior.
I had always been jealous of my sister. She got all the genes that I wanted, not me. Mum and dad were so happy – I went un-noticed as per usual.
She got the usual gear – the wand, the owl and the robes. It wasn’t my fault that I wasn’t a wizard. Try as I might, I could never get anything magic to work for me. I had tried many things to see if I could unlock some potential. I occasionally got some experiments close – I managed a puff of smoke or two once or twice. I still had nothing to report back to my parents.
I went to a muggle school, had muggle friends. I liked a muggle girl, very pretty she was. Katherine was all blonde, blue eyes and that pink dress. She never had any time for me though. It killed me inside. Plus she had a boyfriend – Douglas. I couldn’t get any real acceptance anywhere – home, school or my love life.
I had many plans to make my life better. Run away, put myself up for adoption, get a job and make my own life. Each had their own respective problems. I was a teenager, all lanky and gangly at 16. I was heavily hormonal. I liked some of the muggle inventions – the microwave, computer and the internet. They were tools that required no special ability to use them (i.e. no magic). The internet provided some release for my hormones at least, and I frequented pornographical sites quite often.
Having a witch and a wizard for parents, they had no issue with my use of muggle devices as long as my grades were of a consistent high manner. It meant that I had a pc in my room for my homework. My parents trusted me; they didn’t check my pc for unsanitary websites.
My need for sexual satisfaction and self acceptance kept escalating. No girls liked me at school (except for ones that I was in their friend-zone). I had tried to escalate some of those females to girlfriend status, but I was unsuccessful. In my hormonal state I got addicted to porn, but it wasn’t enough.
Then one year, my sister came flying into my room – “Harry potter is at Hogwarts!” she exclaimed. I asked her who he was and she explained to me. I lost interest, as it was more magic stuff that I wasn’t really attached to. Mum and dad got all excited once more and regaled us with stories revolving around his parents. The only thing that intrigued me was that he was raised by muggles. I felt that he was the opposite of me.
The only thing that really interested me in her years at Hogwarts was that she mentioned Polyjuice potion. She had theories that someone in the school was using it, as the potion master had queried some students about missing items from his personal stores and had overheard a few of the items mentioned names. She did some research into the ingredients and found out their primary use. She was all happy about her research; I was more intrigued by its potential uses. Apparently it would change you into someone else. You had to add a piece of hair from the person you wanted to turn into to the potion to make it work. And the effects weren’t permanent.
Lots of possibilities ran through my mind. Typical teen thoughts like using it to fit in, drive a car, and be someone else basically. Then other things like robbery, beating up the bully at school, becoming a bodybuilder for a day. But I had darker thoughts. Thoughts like impersonating someone’s boyfriend. Then maybe I might get some sexual gratification. But I am a squib, I thought. There isn’t a magical bone in my body. But I was determined I would make this work. If anything was worth pursuing magically, this had to be it. Where to start?
I looked up Diagon alley online. I found nothing. Then I remembered the name of the bookshop we went to with my sister. I looked up Flourish and Blotts. There it was – an online shop with delivery service. It asked if I wanted owl or royal mail. I selected royal mail and asked for it to be discreet so my parents would hopefully not find out.
Whilst I was waiting for my book to arrive, I spent a large amount of time planning what I would do with the potion. I pondered how to get someone’s hair and whose hair I should take. It was widely rumoured around the school as to who was having sex with who, but there were no guarantees – We are all under peer pressure after all. I would probably end up just taking pot luck.
Most of the women I found on the internet were my mum or dads age and I found that stimulating yet I wondered more so about people my age. I had often heard my sister doing strange things in her room. I think I had it pinned to what she was actually doing in there, and it made things all that worse. She hadn’t had any boyfriends – being 12 and all – but it didn’t stop her it seems. I often caught glimpses of her naked body through cracks in doors. And then I also had the interesting noises from her room. It didn’t help at all. The day my book arrived I shut myself in my room after school. I had some money saved, and a currency converter available via the shop didn’t require me to take a step out of the house. I started reading. Simple potion work didn’t require any magic at all really – mainly technical cooking as such. I was pleased. All I had to do was get it right. It was a complicated process to make – requiring a lot of time for brewing and many processes that were time sensitive. Then there were the ingredients. I looked up the ingredients online and soon enough found myself at the apothecary’s website. Same rules applied – currency conversion and home delivery. Apparently the shop owners realised that muggle families didn’t really have the time every day to visit Diagon alley and their children still needed magical gear.
Some of the ingredients were quite expensive and rare. I figured it would be worth it if it worked. Mum asked me about why I needed to spend so much money and I explained to her that I had decided to accept my life as a squib and focus on less magical pursuits. I still wanted to have a try at some of the less magically-oriented parts of the wizarding world, such as potions, and levered my argument on how much money they were spending on my sisters education. She caved easily and my dad seemed impressed with my resolve. I told them I didn’t want to divulge any of my work – in case it didn’t succeed – but promised to come to them for help if I felt the need arise.
So I delved into my study – ordering ingredients occasionally from the apothecary for me to practise my cutting skills on. When I believed I had the necessary skills required to proceed; I started to brew the potion. I started at the beginning of the school holidays. It would take a few weeks to brew. I checked my progress with the illustrations and notations in the book. It all appeared to go well. Maybe I did have some ‘magic’ in me after all.
Once the potion was brewing I had to make more plans to acquire some hair. I thought about my dad’s – gross. Mum had the same effect on my perception. What about my sister? There was a possibility. Mum and dad were taking a trip with my sister – I had declined to accompany them citing my potions complexity. They accepted that, requiring regular notifications and the occasional visit from my aunty who had a daughter – my 9 year old cousin. She was quite pretty.
So my parents left. Things were going even better than expected. Everything was on track. The potion was doing what it was meant to and I was well prepared for each step. Then my aunty came to visit. She had the same questions as my parents – what was I doing in my pursuit of potions. I gave her the same response as I gave my parents and that seemed to satisfy her. As she left, I saw a single hair of my cousins’ drop to the floor. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. I scooped it up and stashed it in one of my vials. I had another theory. What if I cut it up and added it to the potion when I needed it? Or I could bottle it if needed for a later date.
The potions book was definitive that the hair needed to be added to the brew whilst in the process of brewing – not once it had gone cold. The brew was able to stay warm for a few weeks so I had some time up my sleeve to work with but not that much. I decided to cut and bottle it – that way I could have more fun than a one-time only deal. From then on I started devising a list of people I may want to try on and ways of getting a lock of hair. An idea presented itself to me when my sister placed her hairbrush on the side table after brushing her hair. I took the opportunity to swipe a couple of hairs from her hairbrush. Hell – who hasn’t had fantasies of seeing their sister naked? I declined my mother’s hair though – that was gross.
I laid my ear to the gossip wheel at school and decided to play Russian roulette with the results. Hell – I might just take someone else’s virginity along with my own whilst I was at it. I managed to get a part-time job at a local hair dresser – that might butter mum and dad up a bit more about the whole money spending thing – plus I knew that girls from my school frequented the shop too. I mainly swept the floor and done some gofer jobs. Then the opportunity of a lifetime came my way – Douglas and Katherine came in for a cut together. I made sure I didn’t miss this opportunity. I got plenty of stock labelled for each of them.
Finally the day came for the potion to be tested. I was unsure if I wanted to be really freaked out so I took a lock of my own hair then had a shave. If it worked I would know straight away for sure and wouldn’t have to hide it either. After I shaved I took my hair and added it to the potion. It took on a tan colour. I drank it off and waited. It made my skin crawl and bubble. Then it was back – my facial hair. IT WORKS!!! I felt like Frankenstein’s creator and revelled in my masterpiece. I refrained from laughing devilishly. I wasn’t a freak. And I wasn’t a true squib either. I could do potions (at least this one it seemed).It took between an hour or two for the spell to wear off then I was freshly shaven again. I marvelled at the quickest shave I had ever had. So I had my plans – my stock, my potion and a time frame in which to work with. What next?
