A Journey Through Potions & Herbology

by Pottermore Publishing

  Harry bent over the Half-Blood Prince’s book and turned a few pages with unnecessary force. And there it was, scrawled right across a long list of antidotes.

  Just shove a bezoar down their throats.

  Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

  Speaking of which, it’s in the Half-Blood Prince’s copy of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage that Harry learns what a bezoar stone is made from. Harry famously shoved a bezoar down Ron’s throat when he drank some poisoned oak-matured mead intended for Professor Dumbledore.

  Bezoar stones are masses of undigested fibres that form in the stomachs of certain animals, especially of the bezoar goat. Throughout the Middle Ages and early modern period they were considered a universal antidote to all poisons. In the real world, bezoar stones were often enclosed in gold filigree cases, showing that their owners (gentlemen, noblemen, kings and popes) were keen not to get poisoned, and were wealthy enough to own such exotic goods – even if the exotic good was essentially gunk from a goat’s stomach.

  Someone who wasn’t as lucky as Ron was a French cook who, in 1567, had been condemned to hang for stealing some cutlery. Ambrose Paré, a barber-surgeon to the French monarchy, wanted to do a grisly experiment to see whether the bezoar stone was indeed an antidote to poison. He offered the cook a deal: instead of being hanged, he would be poisoned, but he would also be offered the protection of consuming a bezoar stone. If he lived, he would go free. The cook was given a sublimate of mercury and, unfortunately, the bezoar stone offered no defence. He suffered great torment for seven hours, vomiting and emitting blood from his ears, nose and mouth. When Paré opened him up posthumously he found his stomach black and dry, as if it had been burned.

  If there can be any justification for the brutality here, it’s that it showcases a form of proto-science which is based on experimentation and observation rather than parroting Classical authors and texts. This was the development of the scientific method in action: learning through the observation of natural phenomena. Mind you, that wouldn’t bring any comfort to that particular French chef.

  ‘Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?’

  Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn’t have the faintest idea what a bezoar was.

  Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

  Bezoar stones crop up in many real-life old books and manuscripts; one of the most important of these is The Compleat History of Druggs by Pierre Pomet. Pomet was a traveller, collector, writer and medical researcher. His expertise led him to become chief druggist to Louis XIV, probably the most powerful monarch of the 17th century. He specialised in purveying exotic remedies from distant lands. Regarded as the most authoritative and comprehensive book on medicines of its time, The Compleat History of Druggs was a source of fascination to curious readers as well as medical professionals.

  In his book, Pomet is pretty specific in his recommendations about how to attain a bezoar stone – you could get one from a cow, but a goat bezoar stone was better. A really rare ape bezoar trumped them all. These were good examples of the kinds of items that were being brought back from (what were perceived as) far-flung regions by countries that were developing their empires in the Far East, India and South America.

  PART 3: THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE – AN ALCHEMIST’S TRUE CALLING

  The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

  Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

  The Harry Potter series began with the search for one legendary object: the Philosopher’s Stone. A substance with unique properties, it was believed to change other metals into gold and to produce the Elixir of Life, which would grant everlasting life to whoever drank it. As well as the subject of the first Harry Potter novel, it was the object of desire for alchemists throughout history and, as such, has been the feature of both scientific texts and works of art for centuries.

  What the Philosopher’s Stone is actually supposed to look like is unknown. What colour is it? Does it glow? Is it solid, or a residue of an experiment? Where do you keep it?

  There is an amazing, richly illustrated artefact that explains how to best use the Philosopher’s Stone: the Ripley Scroll. The Ripley Scroll is a six-metre-long alchemical treatise, covered in illustrations of dragons, toads and birds, and including a text called ‘Verses upon the Elixir’. When hung up, it is as tall as an adult giraffe, and there are only 22 known copies in the world. One is kept at the British Library. Another is kept at Yale University’s Beinecke Library. They share iconography but portray the alchemical process in a different order. It’s not certain which of these two scrolls on either side of the Atlantic would give you a better chance of producing gold.

  The original scroll and its copies are named after the English mystic George Ripley, who was the canon (senior priest) of Bridlington Priory in Yorkshire, England, in the 15th century, and reputedly an alchemist. He wrote a book known as The Compound of Alchymy, but it wasn’t until much later, in the 16th century, that people attributed to him the idea of making your own Philosopher’s Stone.

  If this mysterious scroll is unfurled and its instructions followed, you can learn how to turn base metal into gold and live forever. To be honest, people have been trying and failing to do this for centuries, so the chances of success aren’t very high, but here we go...

  Stage One:

  At the head of the scroll is a red-robed, white-bearded figure who looks like the traditional European-American figure of Father Christmas. It’s not him, sadly; the image is of the legendary Egyptian sage Hermes Trismegistus. He holds a huge alchemical vessel that’s nearly as big as he is. Inside it are eight scenes, mostly showing wise men gazing into more alchemical vessels that contain human figures. Some of them look like they represent Adam and Eve. But there’s a big picture in the centre – it’s Hermes presenting a secret book to Ripley himself.

  Stage Two:

  Here, a large tree emerges from a pool of water, with snakes twisting around it. Adam and Eve are definitely represented in the pool this time. To a trained alchemist, this image is highly symbolic and informative: the tree represents knowledge; the snakes represent the Roman god Mercury; Adam represents the chemical sulphur, and Eve, the chemical mercury. At this stage of the scroll, a white stone is created.

  Stage Three:

  Beneath the white stone, a dragon is eating a toad. At the time the scroll was made, it was believed that toads were created spontaneously, rather than developing into tadpoles from eggs. The dragon and toad in this instance also spontaneously create a black stone.

  Stage Four:

  Here, a red lion and a green lion stand either side of a furious fire. Any alchemist worth his salt knew what this meant: that red sulphur and the ore from which essence of mercury is extracted are added to the black stone over heat, to create the red stone.

  Stage Five (nearly there):

  Here we meet the glorious golden bird, Hermes – like a golden eagle but with the face of a man wearing a crown. The bird represents regeneration and the powerful vapours created in the making of the stone.

  Stage Six:

  Finally – the Philosopher’s Stone. It’s represented as the three coloured stones: red, white and black. They’re shown inside a bright burning sun, signifying gold, and circled by a crescent moon, signifying silver. The stones are held aloft by a dragon.

  The final figure is of a man holding a giant quill pen. Perhaps this is Ripley. After all that, he must be exhausted.

  If you’ve followed the instructions to the letter, you come up with three different-coloured stones in the course of the process: red, black and white. The colours of the stones have connections with the names of key characters in the Harry Potter series. The r
ed stone has a connection to Rubeus Hagrid, whose name in Latin means ‘red’; likewise the white stone to Albus Dumbledore, whose first name means ‘white’, and the black stone to Sirius Black (for obvious reasons). Arguably, the three father figures of Harry Potter are bound together in the colours of the Philosopher’s Stone.

  There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

  Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

  Whether you’ve managed to successfully create the Philosopher’s Stone or not, someone who certainly did so in the wizarding world was Nicolas Flamel. In Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, Nicolas Flamel has created one and hidden it in Hogwarts. There really was a Nicolas Flamel, who lived in Paris in the late 14th and early 15th century.

  Supposedly, he never died, but it looks like he might have done because there’s a tombstone with his name on it in the church of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie in Paris. The medieval tombstone is quite small, at just over 50 centimetres high – at its top is a scene showing Christ flanked by saints Peter and Paul, along with the sun and the moon. At the bottom is the dead body of Flamel. Flamel was said to have designed the tombstone himself and it was discovered some time in the 19th century in a Parisian grocer’s shop, where it was being used as a chopping board.

  Soon after Flamel’s death, stories and legends began to spring up around him. People claimed that his grave was dug up but there was no body inside. And the most popular one suggested that he was a book dealer who came across a mysterious and magical book, and that he made it his life’s work to translate the text. The story was that after years of relentless study and travel he finally managed to unlock its powerful secrets. The legend of Flamel grew with each decade and saw him mentioned by Isaac Newton in his journals and Victor Hugo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

  There is no evidence, however, to suggest that Nicolas Flamel was ever involved in the book trade. He was wealthy, certainly, but this was because he married a rich widow and owned lots of property as a result: he was a landlord. He was also interested in commissioning large-scale tombs, which had various religious symbols on them, and in subsequent books written about his life these were interpreted as depicting alchemical experiments, such as how to make the Philosopher’s Stone. His tomb commissions grew his own legend posthumously.

  Books written later in the 17th and 18th centuries debunked the idea that Flamel was an alchemist, recovering documentary evidence such as his will, but, due to the way these books were illustrated, they only served to have the opposite effect. This mythologising of Flamel continues today – there are Flamel tours in Paris; there is also a street named after him and another after his wife, as well as a plaque. Not to mention the depiction of him in modern works of fiction, and films… Who knows what he’d make of it all if he had actually lived all this time?

  According to legend, Flamel was instructed in a dream to seek out a book that would tell him how to make the Philosopher’s Stone. The legend states that Flamel travelled to Spain to find a Jew who could help him translate the work, and that he came back with the knowledge to develop the Philosopher’s Stone. A book first published in Germany in 1735 entitled Uraltes Chymisches Werck (‘Age-Old Chemical Work’) claimed to be a translation of this fabled book. It is full of strange alchemical symbols in different languages – principally Hebrew.

  One of the most striking images in the book is of a serpent and crowned dragon eating each other’s tails. This is a common alchemical symbol called an Ourobouros, symbolising the cycle of birth and death, and the unification of prima materia (‘primary matter’) with spiritus universalis (‘universal spirit’). This unification was essential to making the stone. Despite the beauty of the illustrations, the fact remains that Flamel wasn’t an alchemist and no one knows whether Rabbi Abraham Eleazar (named as the book’s author) was a real historical figure. Indeed, it’s extremely unlikely that anyone has come upon the secret to eternal life by reading that book.

  So why would anyone continue to read such a book when its contents are likely as fictional as the legends of the men who brought it into being? The answer lies in the compelling allure of magic, and the sense that magic is never false, but probably just poorly executed by the practitioner.

  Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class were standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

  Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

  We can’t ever be completely sure we’re not tapping into a power beyond our understanding, which resonates at some deeper level with how we perceive the world. It’s no coincidence that much of this powerful information comes in the form of books – books themselves exert their own magical influence by the way they are interpreted and shared, and how they transform our knowledge of our surroundings, real and imagined. For that reason, books about magic are especially powerful. But you already knew that, didn’t you?

  ‘A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!’ said Harry. ‘No wonder Snape’s after it! Anyone would want it.’

  Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

  One of the most beautifully made alchemical treatises ever is a copy of a book called Splendor solis. It was originally made in Germany in 1582 and copied many times.

  The very first illustration is of an alchemist. He wears a vivid red robe and red hat and is wrapped in a glorious blue cloak. Using just one hand, he holds a large flask, which is filled with a golden liquid. Emerging out of the top of the flask is a black scroll, inscribed ‘Eamus quesitum quatuor elementorum naturas’ – Latin for ‘Let us ask the four elements of nature’.

  For an alchemist, Splendor solis was essential reading, not for its wonderful art, but for the secrets it contained. Its writer was purportedly a scholar called Salomon Trismosin, who claimed to have used the Philosopher’s Stone to conquer old age and who lived to be 150 years old. In reality, like many other alchemists, the true story of Salomon Trismosin is hidden in the mists of time, and Splendor solis was based on a patchwork of earlier sources.

  Other illustration highlights include an incredible flask containing a phoenix, chariots flying through the sky pulled by dragons, and what looks like a man emerging from a swamp. And amid the kings, phoenixes and three-headed dragons is supposedly a cycle and methodology for attaining the Philosopher’s Stone, which alchemists have pored over in the hope of uncovering its secrets.

  Another magical book that has fascinated scholars for centuries is The Book of the Seven Climes. The manuscript dates from the 18th century but it was the work of a 13th-century alchemist from Baghdad called Abū al-Qāsim Muhammad ibn Ahmad al-‘Irāqī, also known as al-Sīmāwī, which means a ‘practitioner of natural or white magic’. Throughout the book are illustrations of alchemists at work amid kilns, with flasks and various liquids being heated up. One of them – including a goblin-like man in a red hat, heating a flask surrounded by various birds – looks a lot like a series of hieroglyphics. This image was supposedly taken from a ‘Hidden Book’ by the sage-king of ancient Egypt, Hermes Trismegistus, who you may recall was depicted at the top of the Ripley Scroll. It was believed that he had mastered the mysteries of alchemy and recorded them as hieroglyphs on the walls of tombs, which al-‘Irāqī had painstakingly interpreted.

  In fact, the image has no alchemical significance whatsoever, but it does portray the now-lost monument of an Egyptian king. It is a historical moment snatched from oblivion, but one that is more significant to Egyptologists than to alchemists
. It also shows how much our scientific methodology has changed over the centuries: today, we tend to explain processes in a strict, evidence-based fashion, whereas in the past we often interpreted symbols through a mystical prism.

  ‘You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all – the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things which are worst for them.’

  Albus Dumbledore – Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

  However richly the process was depicted in scrolls, manuscripts and books, questions about the nature and purpose of alchemy continued to be posed in works of art over history. The Alchemist is an engraving based on the work of Pieter Bruegel the Elder, one of the most significant Dutch artists of the Renaissance, and was created at some point after 1558.