To his mild surprise, Abathur was actually quite enjoying his time at Hogwarts so far. The classes were very interesting, hinting at the potential for fascinating uses of psionics, many of which no member of the swarm had witnessed or even considered, even if most of it was restricted to older students. Still, the implications and promises were fascinating. Even the classes that didn't deal directly with the uses of psionics, such as herbology were highly intriguing, showing how psionics and biology mixed together to create very, very interesting life forms. Even if none of their essences were useful, their structures and uses were very, very intriguing, even if the really interesting stuff was yet again only for the older students. Moreover the electives, although only mentioned in passing, were yet again unique and very much something Abathur wanted to learn more about. However, they were only available for older years. It seemed to be a common theme here. Still, what was learned was excellent, what had yet to be learned was tantalizing, and Abathur hadn't even had all the classes yet.
At the moment he was heading towards a class titled "Potions". Of the classes available, it didn't seem particularly interesting, more closely resembling chemistry than psionics. The ingredients and results may be somewhat interesting, but certainly not the techniques or knowledge. Regardless, Abathur continued forward, eventually coming to a dimly lit, humid room within the dungeons, reasonably close to his own quarters. He took out his collection of tools and materials, observing the number of fireplaces close to the desks. After some quick deliberation, he sat next to a round faced boy, nervously looking around the room. He looked up, startled by Abathur's sudden presence.
"Err... hi. I'm Nev-"
"Conversation, superfluous. Disinterest total. Cease attempts," Abathur cut in. He was here to learn about psionics, not random terrans. The terran immediately sank back into his seat. Abathur continued to wait for the start of the class, staring straight ahead. It did not take long. Barely a minute after Abathur had sat down, a long, dark haired terran in a billowing cloak strode into the classroom, and made his way to the front of the class, where he began a speech Abathur almost paid attention to. Something about the powerful flowing blood of dunderheads? Past that point, the human decided to bombard a different student with questions. Abathur largely ignored the both the speech and the exchange in favor of combing through the list of ingredients in his book, and making minor muscular improvements.
He was quickly interrupted by the potions master. "Now, if we are done with showing how much Mr. Potter needs to study, we shall begin the cure for boils. Ingredients and instructions are in your book," He paused to tap the blackboard, "And on here. You may begin."
Abathur looked up at the ingredient list on the blackboard, checking it against the one in the book. There seemed to be no discrepancies, which gave him a sense of confusion. Surely this couldn't be the actual list? Incredulity filled his face as he walked over to the potions cupboard, looking through the ingredients contained within, closely. A quick taste test confirmed his suspicions. Ignoring the contents, he walked over to the potions master, who looked up to see his yellow eyes.
"Is there a problem, Mr...?"
"Abathur. Ingredients, imprecise. Inadvisable to use. Request more precise list."
"And what exactly is so imprecise about," Snape looked up at the board. "Horned slugs? They are right there on the board, and labelled clearly in the supply closet."
Abathur could hardly believe the terran. Did he truly not see the problem? Perhaps he thought Abathur was discussing something else. He began to clarify. "Listed ingredients, complex. Contains numerous substances, many useless for potion. Dilutes result, adds unneeded elements, reduces efficiency of product. Request list of useful derivatives," Abathur said, looking expectantly at Snape.
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Catalyst
FanfictionWhen Abathur, Evolution Master of the Swarm, is cornered by Terran forces, he believes he is about to die. Across the galaxy, a last ditch summoning ritual tries to find something that could fight Voldemort. Neither of these events go as expected. N...