After leaving the herb garden, Luke cast over a dozen Cleaning Charms and took a long, fragrant bath before finally ridding himself of the lingering stench. Then, he returned to the potion room.
This time, he intended to brew a different kind of potion—unlike the growth potion, this one was a dark magic concoction.
He switched to a silver cauldron, pouring in water tainted with dark magic from the shadowed depths of Mirkwood. Then, he added an entire crocodile heart, covered the cauldron, and let it simmer on low heat.
This went on for seven days.
At midnight on the seventh day, he added ten fertilized eggs, stirring clockwise forty-two times and counterclockwise seven times. Using a pure gold strainer, he filtered out the clumps and returned the liquid to the cauldron for reheating.
Next, he added seven drops of blood from a giant bat's heart and seven powdered venomous fangs, stirring counterclockwise thirteen times before bringing it to a rolling boil. The liquid turned a pale purple.
Luke mashed the Mandrake fruit pulp and stirred it into the potion, swirling it nine times clockwise before letting it simmer for nine hours.
After removing the cauldron from the fire, he added ten drops of giant spider venom, stirred counterclockwise ten times, and left it under the moonlight overnight.
By now, the potion had deepened into a dark purple.
Then, he added the brains of three toads, stirring three times clockwise and three times counterclockwise.
Finally, on a moonless night, he poured in seven drops of dragon blood. Without any heat, the potion began boiling violently, transforming into a cauldron of blood-red liquid.
Thus, the dark magic potion—the Birth Potion—was complete.
(T/N : Is bro inventing potions?)
As its name suggested, this potion enabled childbirth—regardless of race or gender. However, the price was steep: the offspring would consume everything from the carrier—life force, magic, even the soul.
The moment the child was born, the carrier would instantly perish.
This was why it was classified as a dark magic potion. Such a life-for-life exchange was undeniably evil.
Of course, merely drinking the potion wasn't enough. It required a specific celestial alignment and a magical ritual to take effect. And that alignment was fast approaching.
By the time the castle was half-built, an owl took flight from the tower at dusk, heading westward.
It flew past Bree, landing at the Barrow-downs, where it transformed back into human form.
Surveying the deathly, shadow-cloaked terrain, Luke nodded in satisfaction.
This place had witnessed countless deaths, tainted by the Witch-king of Angmar's evil. The lingering resentment and despair made it the perfect site for dark magic rituals, providing a natural reservoir of malevolent energy.
He then looked up at the rising star in the distant sky—Helluin.
Helluin, the blue star created by Varda, the Queen of the Stars, for the Firstborn Elves, was the first light the Elves beheld upon awakening by Lake Cuiviénen in Middle-earth's north.
To the Elves, it held profound significance—a witness to their birth, embodying their love for starlight and reverence for Varda.
Yet, in another world, this star—symbolizing hope and guidance—bore a different name: Sirius.
Luke had long noticed that while many things in this world had new names, they bore striking resemblances to his previous life.
For instance, Middle-earth was, in fact, a spherical world with day-night cycles, seasons, and celestial mechanics similar to Earth's. The transition from a flat world to a globe traced back to the First Age, before Númenor's downfall.
Back then, Arda was flat, with Middle-earth at its center, surrounded by endless seas. The Undying Lands of Aman in the far west had not yet been hidden—sailors could still reach Valinor by ship.
But when Númenor's last king, corrupted by Sauron, led an armada to assault Aman and challenge the Valar, the blasphemy angered the divine.
Manwë, King of the Valar, sought Eru Ilúvatar's aid. In response, Eru reshaped Arda into a sphere, sinking Númenor beneath the waves.
Aman was removed from the visible world, accessible only via the Straight Road. Any ship sailing west in search of the Undying Lands would eventually circle back east.
Thus, Arda was, in essence, a globe—much like Earth.
And while the stars bore different names, their celestial patterns mirrored those of his past world and the wizarding realm.
The alignment Luke awaited was when Sirius—Helluin—reached its zenith, shining brightest.
Finding a large clearing, he used dragon blood to draw a seven-pointed star on the ground, inscribing dark magic runes within.
Once the magic circle was complete, he retrieved a seven-year-old rooster from his pouch, forced the Birth Potion down its throat, and placed it at the center of the star.
As Sirius climbed to its highest point, Luke raised his wand, chanting dark incantations. The dragon-blood sigils ignited in crimson flames.
A tremendous suction force pulled the surrounding malevolent energy into the circle.
The vortex grew, drawing in the Barrow-downs' accumulated darkness, forming a massive black whirlwind. The barrow-wights, disturbed from their slumber, shrieked in terror as their dark power was siphoned away.
The dragon-blood flames, tainted by evil, turned a sinister black-red, radiating heat and malice.
At the exact moment Sirius peaked in brilliance, Luke hurled seven dark ingredients into the seven points of the star:
Giant spider venom
Troll's heart
Orc's liver
Warg's fang
Giant bat's wing
Cave worm's tooth
Barrow-wight's skull
The flames roared skyward, devouring the darkness for miles. The barrow-wights, drained of most of their power, collapsed back into torpor.
Above, Helluin's light—like a shooting star—streaked down into the circle.
The rooster at the center grew frantic, squawking and flailing.
Then, the combined stellar and dark energies flooded into its body, warping its physiology with magical force.
The rooster writhed in agony, its cries piercing the night.
As the last of the power was absorbed, the flames flickered out.
Silence fell.
Only the rooster remained, unharmed but eerily still.
Luke waited.
Fifteen minutes later, the rooster let out one final crow—and laid a single, ominously pulsing black egg.
With its last act, the rooster died.
Stepping into the circle, Luke picked up the egg—smaller than a normal chicken's, yet thrumming with immense, cursed power.
The fusion of dark energy and Helluin's light had birthed something profoundly sinister.
And with the right incubation, this egg would hatch into the most dangerous dark creature in the magical world—a Basilisk.
A Basilisk's gaze meant instant death—direct eye contact killed, while indirect sight (like through a mirror) petrified. Only a mature Mandrake Restorative Draught could reverse the petrification.
Its venom, too, was incurably lethal—phoenix tears were the sole antidote.
Highly resistant to magic, most spells simply bounced off its scales.
And the older it grew, the larger and more powerful it became.
Its only weakness? The crow of a rooster.
Perhaps because it was born from one, the sound terrified Basilisks—prolonged exposure could even kill them.
Though with age, this weakness faded—an ancient Basilisk might survive the sound.
Still, even with this flaw, Basilisks remained the most feared dark creatures.
Many dark wizards had tried breeding them, only to become their first victims—for Basilisks obeyed only Parseltongue.
Thus, magical governments strictly banned their creation.
Carefully storing the egg, Luke buried the dead rooster and erased all traces of the ritual.
The Barrow-downs, once steeped in evil, now felt almost cleansed—the wights too drained to resurge anytime soon.
Then, transforming back into an owl, he flew east toward Weathertop under the cover of night.