Practice Makes Perfect

Chase stood over a cauldron with her wand in her hand. Her hair was frizzy and nearly on end as she glared at the contents of the potion with a scowl. The contents were fizzling, and small sparks were dancing across its surface. From afar it seemed to be the right shade of color, the sparks were dancing, but Chase wasn't pleased. The sparks weren't bouncing high enough, and the shade was slightly too blue. She stared at her book with a glower and then back to the cauldron.

Chase thought for a moment before returning to her cutting board, chopping up another bit of bouncing fig, and carefully squeezing a single drop into the cauldron. The drop fizzled a tiny bit, and Chase stared at it intently. Nothing seemed to really change, but Chase's face looked a bit more victorious.

"Come on.. almost there..." She whispered to herself. It was after class, and there were maybe only one or two other students in the classroom practicing their potions. Mostly in their 7th year and working on extremely difficult, complex potions that often took days of brewing to get right. Chase was in the middle of one of these potions, and she'd returned to the classroom nearly every day for the past three days to stir, add, and get it just right.

She was so intent on her cauldron that the rest of the room seemed to have disappeared around her as she yearned to get this one just right. She was terrified of getting anything less than an E in this class. And it was really the only one she had to work really hard at, she wasn't talented by any means, but she worked hard to get it right and usually did well enough.

''Well, leave it to the cripple to forget something and then walking back to get it'', Doyle murmured to himself as he was crippling down to the dungeons to his classroom. It was early afternoon. The day was quite warm, with just a tad of spring wing playing around with the rare clouds that floated within the changing colors of the now orange sky. The birds were flying about and singing, preparing for the night, and the stars were waking up for their turn in the sky. And Edgar Albert Doyle couldn't care less. He was reading a Muggle book about two priests solving a murder in an abbey in the Middle Ages and instead of taking it back to his office, where he could enjoy it, he took the N.E.W.T.-level textbook instead. Unlike the Muggle novel, he knew this bureaucratically-written piece of crap by heart. And it was horrible. That is why he rarely used it, and that is why he wanted to get rid of it so badly.

He was rushing, as much as a man in his condition could actually rush, pushing aside some of the students from time to time, so he could get down quicker. What he hoped was that the classroom would be empty. By orders of that idiot Ogden, the classrooms were supposed to be open so that students could practice there, which annoyed Doyle to a certain degree (it was actually more than he was willing to admit, but that was a wholly different subject), mostly because he had to talk to people, and he did not like to talk to people when he did not want to talk to people. And now was a moment when he did not want to talk to people. Not really.

Yet, as luck would have it for Edgar Albert Doyle, the classroom was not empty. He burst in as if he was a sheriff looking for an outlaw, which scared most of the students present. A few looks here and there, with Doyle intentionally giving them the ''You don't see me, I don't see you look'', and soon enough the classroom was empty. Well, almost empty. A redheaded girl, whom he knew but whose name he could not remember, in Hufflepuff robes was still there, and she seemed to be working on something, but the aura she emanated was not one of security, rather one of hoping that she would not blow the whole school up in a matter of moments. Looking observing her not noticing him with mild bewilderment, he limped over to his desk, took the book and then limped behind her as quietly as he could. Being much taller than her, he leaned down, his face appearing next to hers from behind, looking at the same cauldron. ''It's not blue enough, which means you did not stir enough. Had I been then from your first year, you wouldn't be in my class with such stirring'', he remarked.

Chase jumped so hard she almost hit her cauldron but caught herself right before doing so, steadying herself with a huge intake of air and her hands thrown out to stop herself from knocking over the cauldron and perhaps the professor with her. "Professor!" She gasped, turning around quickly to face him, her cheeks beet red and her hair flying out around her face, some strands so frizzy they actually stood on end.

"I... I didn't notice.." she glanced around the room and realized every other student had cleared out except for her. She gulped slightly and then looked back at her cauldron, frowning at the potion there. "More stirring... I swear I did enough..." She mused and then grabbed the ladle and, after a quick glance at her book, stirred it a couple of more times. The color almost instantly brightened up to a shade that made her sag her shoulders with relief.

"Thanks, Professor... I must have missed a stirring step at some point." She grinned at him with the happy air of someone who had no idea what it was like to want. "I would have thought you'd be long gone by now, though." She looked a bit surprised, her eyes traveling around the room again, noting again how everyone had packed up.

"I'm... I'm not here too late am I?" She looked nervous, instantly glancing at her watch to double-check the time. It wouldn't be the first time she'd almost missed curfew due to a potion taking too long.

Doyle had anticipated such a reaction, which is why he made a precautionary step backwards as she noticed his presence. A mischievous smile escaped him, but he wasn't sure whether the girl was actually noticed it or not. There was nothing malicious here, but Doyle simply liked to play with his pupils from time to time. He liked to challenge them in more ways than one, and although he knew it was not the best approach, he enjoyed it so much that he did not want to stop. Luckily for him, he was an expert in his field and he had done so much for the school and the Ministry that no one actually dared reproach him for this. Ogden, specifically, avoided him whenever possible; heck, the guy would openly run away from him whenever he saw him. This also amused Doyle, which is why he kept popping by his office from time to time just to scare him, although that did not always work because the bureaucratic rat was not always there, but climbing up someone's a** in the Ministry. And that guy was running the school.

''See, it's all about the stir. The Draught of Peace is, as you should know, a very complex potion to make and a highly dangerous one if you get it wrong. This little thing'', he said, pointing at the cauldron with his cane, ''always solves your problems, whether it calms you down or kills you.'' He shrugged and grabbed a stool with his cane and sat down, placing his book on the desk. ''I seem to have misplaced my book, just like you have misplaced your stirs'', he replied, observing her surprising look. ''And yes, everyone's gone except for you. And no, I did not send them away, they simply left when I entered. You, on the other hand, had not even noticed me, which, if my deduction is correct, would account for your misplaced stirs as well, as you're not overly observant'', he remarked. ''I do remember you from class, but I don't remember the name...'', he asked her with an inquisitive look.

''Well, since your darling Headmaster is an idiot, I suppose you're not unwelcome here. The classrooms are open even after classes for students to practice... I don't really care if anyone's here, as it is not my responsibility after hours. If you mess up, Ogden's going to take care of it, or we'll be learning Potions with what we can find in the grounds. I'd like to see you make that with some mud and a couple of pebbles'', he replied finally. ''But, since I am here, let's see you at work, girl!'', he leaned back a little to enjoy the show. ''Why are you even making this? If you want to get high, there are easier potions to make, I suppose'', he asked finally.

Chase could feel her face getting a little redder as Professor Doyle talked. She had been completely unaware of him entering the room or the rest of the students leaving when he'd done so. She'd been so intent on trying to figure out what was wrong with her potion that she'd not paid any attention to them leaving. She looked at her cauldron, feeling a little deflated from his scolding. "It's uh... Chase Moor, sir." She looked at him with a small smile, knowing how he was from class, but it wasn't often she'd been alone with him. He was definitely one of the more scary teachers, which was also why she was here anyway.

She watched him get comfortable, her eyes growing slightly wider as he seemed intent on sitting and watching her work now. She wasn't expecting the scrutiny on her practice, but she knew this was a great time to make a good impression and maybe get a good recommendation for a career after school. She immediately turned back to her book and went to the next step, which involved cutting up some more ingredients that, luckily, she'd cut up in advance. So she carefully weighed them on her scales and plopped them into the cauldron, watching it hiss and sizzle for a moment before picking up the ladle and stirring a few times counterclockwise.

He asked her why she was making this, and it took her a moment to respond due to measuring her ingredients but then also to think about the question. "Well... it's in the advanced section, and I knew it had a lot of steps that would be useful for the NEWTs..." She thought about it for a second longer. "Also it sounded kind of cool. I wasn't going to keep it, just put it in the stores in case it was useful at some point." She smiled at him in a way only a Hufflepuff could manage, happy and naive. "A-Also... because I wanted the practice for class." She flushed slightly, looking back at her cauldron and stirring it a few more times, keeping a close eye on the color changing. "I don't like to disappoint you." She muttered the last part and hoped it got lost in the sound of sizzling as she tossed in the last bit of weighed ingredients into the pot with another loud sizzle and continued to stir vigorously for a few moments.

''Chase... Moor... sounds like the name of a swamp in Dartmoor. Well, nice to meet you, Miss Moor, I shall do my best not to forget your name by the time your potion is done'', Doyle replied with a smile. His smile was... awkward to say the least. It wasn't artificial, but it was not the most beautiful of smiles. The girl, as he observed, had what you would call a perfect smile and in comparison to hers, his was an awkward grimace that seemed more like a mockery than a genuine smile. But(!), it actually was genuine.

As he continued to observe her, he noticed several interesting things. His blue eyes observed her shaky movements, and it was obvious that she was trying in front of him, but it was also obvious that she was a hard worker. She was not a natural for Potions, but people rarely were; that is something he had learned from Severus. ''Potions, Miss Moor, is a very delicate art and one of the most complex fields of magic in existence. It is not that complex in some aspects... a monkey could brew a potion if he were to follow the instructions written down on a piece of paper in a language he could comprehend, but brewing a perfect potion, a potion that is beyond excellent... well, that's art. Spellcasting, for example, depends on a lot of different factors, but you can always give a spell something that is you and thus leave the impression of perfection. With potions, however, it is different, because you cannot actually fool someone - the concoction either is perfect or it isn't, and that is something that can be proven immediately by testing out the effects of a potion. But there is a difference, you know? With spells, perfection is usually achieved through sheer talent... sure, there's work and effort, but a lot of it is just - talent. Potions, on the other hand, require hard work. Rarely do you come across a naturally gifted potioneer, but even they had to work their arses off, pardon the expression, to become perfect. I would know. But, there are more perfect potioneers than there are naturally gifted potioneers, which implies that you can become perfect with work'', he elaborated ultimately as he observed the colours change. This was a good progression and if everything went well, her draught would soon be turning turquoise. ''What was the point of my little soliloquy, you wonder? Stop being so stiff and give it some magic, Moor, for Pete's sake, you're brewing a potion that could save someone's life, and you're cuddling it like it's a glass of baby milk!'', he burst out at her hitting the stone floor with his cane.

It was nothing aggressive on his side; he didn't even shout. He was just passionate. She had the work ethics to become great, but she was so stiff it made him sick and that was just his way of motivating her, but if she had been to his classes, and since he remembered her, it means that she has, she would've known that. ''I'm here and all of a sudden you're scared like a sparrow? Who cares about me! Are you brewing me, or are you brewing the potion! Come on, impress me!'', he added, now with more nonchalance in his voice and less vigour.

''The Draught of Peace is a fairly complex potion, even for skilled potioneers. Not for me, of course, but it is admirable that you were brave enough to try it for yourself, as we haven't done it in class. And it is useful, but if you ever need it...'', he said and paused for a moment, observing her childishly sincere and naive eyes with his blue gaze. ''If you ever have any need for it, Chase Moor, before taking it, do talk to someone. I hear Wilson's good with that sort of stuff, he's known for listening to people. But if he's not around... you can also come to me, is that understood?'', he said, looking her directly into her eyes, with a gentle tone, something that was rather unusual to those who had not known him intimately.

''But, let's cut the soap opera talk, we have work to do'', he exclaimed and smacked her in the back in a friendly manner. ''My N.E.W.T. exams are notoriously difficult. Not to pass, because I hate seeing the same faces twice, but they are difficult. For an O, Miss Moor, I demand perfection, for an E... I demand near-perfection. And if you show me something excellent, I'll give you a passing A with which you'll hardly have a proper career in Potions. So, don't rely on the book, which is horrible, by the way, except for the ingredients... show me that you can be perfect!'', he said, leaning back and raising his All-Stars on the desk. ''Are you hungry? Thirsty?'', he then added.

Chase listened to him speak as she stirred her cauldron a couple more times, frowning as it started to lighten up a bit more slowly than she had anticipated. The book stated it should only take five turns to go fully turquoise, but she was on her third, and it was only now starting to get lighter. She kept turning, though, and felt her shoulders relax as the color instantly became brighter with just a couple of turns. His cane hitting the floor made her jump, and she turned to look at him, nodding as she realized what he was saying. Learning potions wasn't just about following the recipes in the books. They had spent so much time going over the whys and hows of ingredients. What they did, why they did that, why stirring helped or was the worst thing you could do.

In her head, she knew all the reasons WHY the potion was doing this, and maybe if the teacher hadn't been watching her every move, she might have utilized the theory better. Though now he was telling her the book was useless, she sighed, running her hand through her frizzy hair. She looked towards him as he spoke, her eyes slightly wide as he suddenly got much more gentle.

"You can also come to me, is that understood?"

Chase nodded, her mouth slightly open but a small smile on her lips. She'd never really gotten too close with a teacher. It seemed weird that it was happening so late into her 7th year, but it was nice all the same. To know she had someone to turn to. Chase took a deep breath and nodded again to his words. "Right!" She quickly glanced at her book and walked over to her table, grabbing three mint leaves and an already-measured beaker of water. She put the mint leaves in and then very slowly added the water, watching the color and making sure it didn't change from its turquoise. Once she'd emptied the water into the cauldron, she grabbed the spoon and stirred it once clockwise.

She took a deep breath and smiled. The color of the potion had stayed turquoise, and now all that was left was to simmer and let it cool. The color wasn't supposed to change as it simmered, but it should start emitting pale gray steam. If it did that in about half an hour, she should be good to add the final flobberworm mucus. She turned back to the professor and realized he'd asked her another question. "Oh! I'm so sorry, um... I suppose I'm quite thirsty; this potion has dried my throat out a bit. I hadn't even noticed." She smiled at him, her eyes a bit watery from having been standing over her cauldron for a bit.

"Thank you for everything you've said, Professor. I'm just a bit nervous about exams... I know most of my classes I'm not going to do well in... but Potions always felt like something I could actually learn and be good at. I have a way with animals according to my Care of Magical Creatures Professor... and Herbology is half the time just fighting with roots that try to eat you. Those are the other two classes I'm any good at if I'm honest..." She sighed and sat down on her stool, watching her potion simmer gently in the pot. "What were you like when you went to Hogwarts?" she asked suddenly, turning to him with a grin.

It seemed as if his ''advice'' - as no sane person would actually label his unorthodox encouragement as advice - actually worked. Not fully, as the redheaded girl was struggling with his presence, but she was getting better at it, more concentrated. She was a bright kid, that much he could tell, and a hard worker and that was usually something in this field; she would, of course, have to get rid of her fear and improve her technique, but that will arrive in time and in his absence. At least, it should. He was a ware of the effect his presence had on her, but he also thought that a little stress won't hurt her - she has to get used to it. His life, as well as the recent events in Hogwarts confirmed to him, on multiple occasions, that one rarely has the benefit of doing things leisurely in life and that there was always a degree of trouble and stress waiting around the corner. He would be the happiest person in the world if this kid, as well as all the others, could go through life without these issues, but having been alive for some time now, Doyle knew that it was a benefit that only those who had lived a short life had.

He wanted Chase to understand that she had to show what she was capable of. The textbook was a good memo for the ingredients you needed, but if the textbook were able to brew a potion, then there would be no need for potioneers. And, luckily for her, she was doing a good job. ''This one actually annoys me. It changes colours like a bloody chameleon... it could give you an epileptic seizure if you stared at it too long'', he commented right after the smile that escaped her along with her answer to his question. He wasn't all that good at socializing, so sarcasm was his way of avoiding unnecessary awkwardness.

''What's your poison?'', he asked, summoning two glasses with his hand and placing them on the table. ''I have no clue what I have down here, but we'll manage'', he grinned.

He then listened to her story, observing her without any expression, as he usually did. ''Wilson was the only freak of nature I know that excelled in... well... everything. Be it Potions, DADA, or practical gardening, he simply had a knack for it, but no one's that talented, really. God knows what he learned while he was in Russia... so don't trouble yourself'', he began. ''Exams... well, while they are important, they have never been the measure of a person's talent... that is why I give those excellent potions a passing A, because... while great and 'mathematically flawless', they lack the soul. Someone would give such potions an E or an O, but I couldn't care less about excellence. That is why my N.E.W.T.s are so notorious... but having said this, you shouldn't worry too much about it. Those who have... well, they usually didn't do too well'', he smirked. ''But you do have a nice combination there, I must say'', he added, nonchalantly, observing her cauldron, ''there is no great potioneer who does not know their plants. Herbology alone is just garden plants, roots, weeds, and all that other rubbish... if you want to be a gardener, go to London, not Hogwarts! But yes... knowing your potions means knowing your plants... and beats... well, as you know, there are a lot of animal-related ingredients so knowing your beasts is also important. You have a nice combination there, Miss Moor, do not waste it!'', he finished, mocking an army general ordering his loyal trooper.

''Me!?'', he was shocked with that question. Not that he had anything to hide, but he simply wasn't used to being asked such questions. Sure, Khaat Lupin had her way around his demeanor, but students were never this bold. He was a bit surprised, but the potion was not near completion, and he did not have anything better to do. ''Well, I suppose I was the same... but without the limp and the beard. The rest was pretty much the same. I excelled at this, I was also good at Charms... and DADA. I hated... loathed Herbology, although I know every bloody plant that you'll ever need for a potion... but I detested the subject and everything related to those stupid little garden tools and pots and... it still gives me the creeps. I was also too lazy for Transfiguration, but hey, who isn't? Told you, Wilson's the only freak who excelled at everything. But... he's a good professor, much better than I am ever going to be... which is why I am proud to have taught him and why I am happy that he came back here to teach'', he said. ''Oh, also!'', he said, pointing at his injured leg, ''this thing won Ravenclaw three consecutive Quidditch cups back when I was on the goal.''

Chase looked up when he asked what her poison was, confused before she nodded and realized what he meant. "Oh! I don't mind whatever you have." She smiled and glanced back at her book nervously. Chase felt herself flush when he said she had a good combination. It was honestly the best combination she could hope for. She was glad animals liked her, and she enjoyed the chance to do something quietly in Herbology, even if all it meant was getting dirty in some dirt and wrestling a Venemous Tentacula.

Chase smiled at him as he spoke very fondly of Professor Wilson. Honestly, DADA was another class she didn't do great in. Turns out wanting to talk out your problems was not super conducive to sending out offensive spells. Doing the higher-level spells wasn't that easy for her anyway... Professor Wilson was nice though. She just hadn't spent more time in that classroom than she really had to. She did pretty well at defensive spells but ask her to throw one at someone and she bulked. She didn't want to sound rude though with all the glowing praise he was getting. "Yea, he's a great teacher, I'm not very good at that class though." She felt her cheeks go pink as she said it.

When he started to speak about himself, she briefly glanced down at his leg. She never did hear about what had happened to him and wondered about what had caused his leg to be injured. She didn't want to be rude, however, and refrained from bringing it up as he spoke about what classes he did well at. She had to stop herself from making a face when he said Charms though. Chase's worst subject was Charms, she hated it, and it seemed to hate her. According to the Charm's professor, she didn't have the 'concentration' required to perform the more complex Charms. She rarely made good grades in that class, barely managing to pass her entire time at Hogwarts.

She applauded when he spoke of winning Quidditch, though. "Oh! That's amazing! I really wish I was any good at Quidditch, but I just can't seem to get the broom to listen to me. I'm always so envious of those that fly about as though the broom is just another limb... it's beautiful, really! Do you still fly?" She asked and took another step closer to him, her smile vibrant.

''As if I know what I have...'', he mumbled and flicked his hand to open the door of his storage room and summon several boxes of various herbal and non-herbal teas from there. The boxes floated around before neatly positioning themselves on the desk in front of Chase and himself. ''Well, it seems I have tea. Luckily, it's not just one. I need to tell the elves to stock that place up. You can pick whichever one you want'', he said, taking the box of Earl Grey, as he was preparing to brew two cups of tea.

''Wilson's... yes, he teaches DADA that's always been his forte. He's probably the brightest student I've had... and also the scariest. I mean, did you look at him? He's so tall and skinny, and always wears black... he's like a bloody Dementor with glasses!'', he cried out, and added, more solemnly, ''but also the most loyal and trustworthy friend you could have.'' He then listened to her remark about her exams. ''Well, you're here, aren't you? So stop whining like a baby and let me see the colours'', he replied quickly.

He noticed, of course, Chase observing his leg, but he didn't really know whether he should be bothering a student with that stupid story, so he simply pretended to watch the tea brewing. It was not a story that involved too much horror, but it was a stupid story, and he did not want to bother people with it unless they really wanted to know. He liked prying into other people's stuff, but he did not like to impose himself on other people.

''Flying is pure technique. There's really not much to it. You have to master the broom and the balance, and then you can simply experiment further. It's like riding a bicycle or driving a car... some people never learn it, yet some are professionals. The same goes for flying and if any flying instructor tries to tell you otherwise, they're morons, and they're not doing their job right'', he remarked. ''And no... I mean, I could... but with this thing?'', he pointed at this leg. ''Don't be ridiculous, I can hardly walk'', he replied. ''You said you liked potions, plants, and animals... how does that combine into where you see yourself in ten years time, Chase Moor?'', he asked.