Behind a heavy oaken door lies the Potions Storeroom, a circular chamber lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves of jars, bottles, and canisters in every imaginable shade and shape. Pickled organs float languidly in brine-filled glass, dried herbs hang in neatly labeled bundles, and rows of crystalline powders catch the torchlight like dull gemstones. The room itself is enchanted with subtle wards of temperature and humidity control, ensuring that even the most delicate of materials remain stable.

A carved wooden cabinet against the far wall holds restricted ingredients under lock and ward. A broad round worktable is position in the center of the room, scattered with ledgers, scales, mortals and pestles ready for use. Carved into the stone floor is a trapdoor with iron fittings leading down into the Cold Storage Cellar, a chamber is a magically chilled vault for the more volatile and perishable stock: dragon livers wrapped in frost-charmed linen, mandrake root suspended in preserving solution, and flasks of other ingredients too dangerous or too unstable for the open shelves. Few students are ever permitted below unsupervised, which only adds to the gossip abound about what else Professor Cox might keep secured in the frozen dark.