Practical Potions (Lesson 1)

Deep breaths. In… Out… In… Out…

I think I may faint.

If you faint, you will not only lose your job, but you will irrevocably embarrass yourself. Do you want to end up playing for the London Symphony Orchestra for the rest of your life?

That wouldn’t be so bad. I like music. And, even more so, I like not being the only thing to look at in front of an audience.

Well if you honestly want to throw away seven years of magical education to go be your husband’s social climbing pet, then go ahead and faint. Otherwise, you bloody well better breathe.

To look at her, you might never have suspected that Amelia Lyons was on the brink of whipping off her high heeled shoes and bolting from the dungeons. The only things keeping her in the room were the contract she had signed with the headmaster to teach potions for the entirety of the academic year, and her unwillingness to see the smug look on her mother’s face if she failed in the pursuit of the one defiant act she had ever made against her parents’ wishes.

Amelia had spent nearly a month building up to telling her parents about the position she had been offered at Hogwarts. She had been pulled aside at the graduation ceremony, after she had crossed the stage to receive her certificate, and, barely separated from student status, the minister and headmaster had jointly offered her the position of potions professor. Amelia had been dumbfounded by their proposition – surely they knew that speaking in front of a group was not her forte? But, wanting to be polite, Amelia had told them she would think about it.

And then, for the next month, it was all she could think about. She thought about the offer as her parents took her on a celebratory vacation to Greece. She thought about the offer as she met with the conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra and attended an extravagant banquet with the rest of the musicians. And, without fail, she lay in bed each night, thinking about what it would be like to be potions master at Hogwarts.

Eventually, after weighing all the pros and cons – by making lists, of course (OCD much?) – Amelia had come to the realization that, for the first time in her life, she knew what she wanted to do, and it didn’t coincide with what her parents expected of her. Sure, over the years, there had been fleeting moments when she had wanted to run instead of study, or stay in her room rather than attend a ball, or wear jeans rather than a skintight designer dress. But all of these had been minor desires compared to how she felt about the teaching position.

Amelia was intrinsically tied to Hogwarts; it was there that she had earned most of her success, made her parents proudest. But more than anything, Hogwarts reminded Amelia of Raoul. At home, his name was never mentioned, and all the pictures of him had been taken down. Amelia occasionally caught her father in his study with a wrinkled 4x6 photograph of his son, which he kept tucked in the very back of his desk drawer, but only once in a while, and he never shared those moments with Amelia. At Hogwarts, however, though most of the student population no longer remembered Amelia’s older brother, she felt that at least his memory wasn’t being actively hidden. And if he were ever going to return – not that Amelia dared to put much hope into such a long-shot dream – Amelia was certain Hogwarts would be where he would go first.

And so it was with unsteady conviction that Amelia had sat her parents down to tell them the news: she had accepted the position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts and contacted The Orchestra to tell them she would be withdrawing. Her mother had been furious; teaching was a job for lesser individuals, and certainly not for those with Amelia’s family connections. Anyone could teach, Antoinette said, rattling off a few of Hogwarts’ less-than-ideal candidates who had taught briefly in the past. Even knowing her mother would be furious, Amelia was having a difficult time enduring the scrutiny of the woman she had been trying to please all her life, and if it hadn’t been for her father’s calm expression and the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips, Amelia knew she probably would have caved.

“Let’s give her a chance, Antoinette,” Frederick had said calmly, after Antoinette had screeched herself into silence. Her mother hadn’t liked the idea, but her husband so rarely stepped in on these discussions, that she was forced to concede that Amelia could take the position, which consisted mostly of throwing her hands up in the air and sulking out of the room.

So now, Amelia Lyons was standing at the front of the potions classroom, looking out at the tables and stools she had been occupying less than four months ago. She had pulled her long, red hair into a chignon at the back of her head and wore a charcoal grey suit with an ivory shell and simple necklace. It was simple, but flattering, and Amelia hoped that her lack of robes would not get her into trouble. She had been far too nervous to wear the heavy material, which she would have sweat through in a matter of minutes. On the lapel of her suit, she had pinned the Ravenclaw crest, representing the House from which she had graduated, and was now head. She was leaning against the same desk that Headmaster Doyle had always favored, where he spouted his wry comments and belittled his students.

The students Amelia would face were just another on her long list of concerns this morning. Many of them would be able to identify Amelia, if not know her personally. She had never had many friends at Hogwarts, but she did interact sporadically with some of her younger peers, who would now be her students. She didn’t know what kind of reaction she would get from those students who knew her only as “The Ice Queen”, and she had even less of a chance of predicting how those few students who knew her better would react.

Ahem, Amelia’s subconscious interrupted as the tension associated with all these thoughts started to make the redhead feel as though one of her lungs had collapsed.

Oh, right. Breathe.

The summer heat had shed itself from the northern-most point of Britain, like a cocoon cracking around a caterpillar turned butterfly. Only, what was revealed after the haze of summer was ripped away and placed in a cupboard to await the next season was a bitterly cold north-easterly wind and September, livid and ready to bear down on the world, on Hogwarts and on its inhabitants. Snow was on the horizon before autumn even had chance to tickle the trees’ underarms and make them shake themselves free of their leaves. One thing that had not been overlooked by the artist that was now striding down one of the many corridors in the ancient castle was that the Whomping Willow had already lost her leaves. She’s shaken herself as the winds from the north blustered, cooling the air and ridding it of the stifling summer humidity. Summer may have been long gone but another season had made it through the door before its time. Winter, was on its way.

The abrupt season change had made Elijah glad of Stelladora. She’d predicted the change. She’d said it herself that he could have done with a new coat. Elijah, never the one to turn down an opportunity to buy a coat, had done as he’d been told but now, upon realising just how bitterly, bitterly cold it was becoming, Elijah was finding himself feeling incredibly grateful for her intuition. The coat was long but not long that he could not see his feet. It ended just below his knees and was made of a thick grey material that he couldn’t quite name - though it was on the tip of his tongue. The neck was wide and open, with large lapels spreading across his chest. To cover the extra space created by the low riding buttons and the belt that secured the coat around his middle, Elijah had folded his scarf around his neck. It displayed his house even though the coat did not; the house of the snake -- Slytherin.

Potions was a class that his father was insistent he take. Elijah had shown past promise. His O.W.L examination results had not been as horrific as his attendance record had suggested they would be. No, he’d done rather well and so he’d gained passage into the class. Had it been Elijah’s choice then he certainly wouldn’t have deigned to take the class. Instead he would have taken Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration. The rest of his time would have been dedicated to painting. As it was, his schedule was full and he had little time to himself. As it was, he was also being entered into Arithmancy and Ancient Runes despite showing little to no understanding of either subject. He was admittedly not looking forward to the year ahead of him.

Difficult classes coupled with the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests meant for a gross amount of stress and little time to expel the start of destructive emotions. Potions was his first class of the year with a change of Professor. Luck and lack thereof would present themselves once more and he’d most probably receive a detention; or, more likely, a month’s worth. Why, he was not sure, but it was highly probable.

Descending the last few steps, Elijah stepped over the threshold of the dungeons entryway and felt a blast of the outside air hit him across the cheeks as it danced up the hallway at the speed of a Firebolt X1. Elijah shuddered and tipped his face forward. He nudged the scarf with his nose and tucked his chin into the warm, thick wool that he knew he’d made a smart choice in wrapping around his neck that morning. He gave another little shiver as the tail end of the air ghosted across his cheekbones, and he picked up pace, deciding that if the new Professor wasn’t a natural dungeon dweller then he or she would have put heating spells on the classroom. Elijah was hoping and praying that this was the case.

Turning a corner, Elijah did not slow. He took his hand out of the pocket of his coat and curled his fingers around the brass door handle. He tightened his grip and turned his wrist, pulling the handle sharply down. He felt the door unlock and he gave it a push. The hinges squealed but were not as uncooperative as he was prepared for them to be. Slowly the classroom was revealed but Elijah paid little attention to it. His eyes were fixed on the stained brass hinges that were moving with great effort on their part. Elijah knew that they needed something to loosen them up a bit - something to bide time. What really needed to happen was for the door to be taken off and the hinges to be replaced. Perhaps some oil or grease would do the hinges some good. As good a magic was - it couldn’t quite replace the ideas Muggles came up with. They made the best of the bad situation and sometimes, they came out with things that Wizards could only dream of.

“I can fix this,” Elijah murmured. His voice resounded around the room and he turned his head towards the front of the room where, out of his peripheral vision he’d seen the teacher. Elijah’s breath caught in his throat and his heart stalled at the sight of her. Elijah’s eyes frantically darted around the classroom, looking for another person that would surely rest his fears the girl - young woman, his mind corrected - stood at the front of the classroom was going to be his Professor. But he saw no one - no one at all. Elijah squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled gently, trying to ward off the hyperventilation that would ensue if he was not careful.

Upon reopening his eyes, Elijah released the door. He pushed it to, not quite closing it, and stepped further into the room, thinking that if he moved closer then maybe the vision would prove to be wrong - that it was a nameless woman and not Amelia Lyons. Elijah was disappointed though. She had not changed. She was Amelia, still, in his eyes. She could never be ‘Professor’, ever. It was horrifying to think that a woman that he’d promised the world to would now hold his academic future in Potions in her hands. Amelia didn’t strike Elijah as the vindictive type but surely any normal woman as scorned as she had a right to be would seek revenge by abusing the position over him he was in. Then again, Elijah was a fool by trying to compare Amelia to other ‘normal’ women. She was very much her own person - but only to a certain degree; that degree though, however small, still allowed her to be as harsh and as untameable as the sea.

Elijah brought his hands to the buckle of his coat and he carefully unhooked it as he openly observed Amelia. He wetted his lips with his tongue and let the belt fall to his sides. His hands then went to the buttons of the coat and he slowly but surely released them from their bonds. “You never told me,” Elijah spoke after a moment. “You never told me you were teaching here,” he elaborated after a moment of careful thought. “But then, why would you have cause to?” The last button slipped from the hole and Elijah shrugged his coat off. He threw it onto one of the chairs and pulled the scarf roughly from around his neck. “Professor Amelia Lyons: Potions Mistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It has an odd ring to it doesn’t it? Yes...very pretty.” Elijah smiled slightly before picking his bag up off of the floor where it had fallen as he took off his coat and placed it underneath his chosen desk. “Why Potions, though?” Elijah asked her. “I know you were Doyle’s favourite but I always thought you would have done better in Wilson’s position, personally. But then, what does my opinion mean - I am only a student after all?”

Oh Merlin, this was painfully strange.

Amelia’s nimble fingers were moving from bead to bead on her necklace, using them as somewhat of a rosary as she counted breaths, inhaling and exhaling for each over-sized orb she held between her fingers. It was a slow process, and one she would have had trouble explaining to anyone else, but it was succeeding in keeping her mind focused on the one thing she needed to do until students arrived. Her students. She had planned the lesson, prepared a homework assignment, and gone over the class list. Except she wished she hadn’t done that last thing, because there were a few names on the roster that had only added to her nerves.

And as if on cue from that thought, the door to the dungeon classroom squeaked slowly open and Amelia looked up from her necklace to catch sight of the person who’s name had given her most cause for worry. Elijah Krum. She saw him before he saw her, and her breath caught in her throat, breathing exercises deserted as she watched the long-haired Slytherin who had turned her world upside down with the promise of a new one investigated the hinges of the door.

Over the years, Amelia had felt a good deal of emotions toward Elijah. She had been interested and overwhelmed by him, frustrated and angry, and she had struggled to be ambivalent about him. And, of course, there was the emotion she had tried to forget she had once held for him: love. Admitting that weak emotion, especially in light of what had happened, meant failure to Amelia, and so she never said it aloud, and thanked her lucky stars every day she had never said anything like that to the boy himself, who had finally looked up to catch sight of his new professor.

Their eyes met briefly, Amelia’s heart hammering nervously in anticipation of what Elijah’s reaction would be, but it was Elijah who broke the gaze first. His eyes darted around the room, then closed tightly, as if hoping she might disappear in the time between blinks. But when he opened his eyes and took a few steps forward, it was still a redheaded former Ravenclaw standing at the front of the room, still mentally reminding herself to breathe.

She had known, taking this position, that she would be faced with situations like these: encountering students who would have a hard time thinking of her as a professor instead of a peer. But Elijah’s case would be by far the hardest. At one point, Amelia and Elijah had been in a relationship, and it was the only time Amelia had ever let her guard down for that purpose. Elijah had convinced her to let down her guard, and then proceeded to fire cannons on her as soon as she was exposed. It was a betrayal for which she still had not forgiven him.

It was tempting, now that she had actual power over him, to take back some of the pride Elijah had stolen from her. Elijah had never much cared for his coursework, but his parents certainly did, and if she wanted to make things difficult for him, Amelia finally had that power. She had never had any way to hurt Eiljah when they had been peers; he would have needed to genuinely care about her in order for her to hurt him, and Amelia was convinced that any real care Elijah had had for her was long gone as soon as slept with Chase Moor and got a daughter out of the deal.

But as tempting as it was, Amelia was not a vindictive person. As much as a part of her wanted to stick it to Elijah in revenge for what he put her through, a much bigger part couldn’t intentionally inflict that kind of pain on another human being. And anyway, she had spent so much time in the past year or so convincing herself that Elijah wasn’t worth her time or energy; putting him through hell now would be a direct contradiction to the measured ambivalence she had been honing in order to inch him out of her life.

He was certainly in her life now, though, and Amelia was practicing every bit of self-control she possessed as Elijah removed his coat and stated the obvious. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she bit back a sarcastic remark about all the things Elijah never told her, or told her too late – I am pursuing other girls, I am going to be a father, I never really intended to keep any of my promises to you – and instead waiting for Elijah to finish his thought.

“We weren’t exactly on the best of terms,” Amelia said simply, after Elijah admitted she wouldn’t really have had any reason to tell him anything about her life, “And it was only a matter of time before you found out anyway.”

Subconsciously, Amelia crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive gesture she made whenever Elijah was around, as though protecting her once-wounded heart from the boy who had done so much damage. Elijah finished removing his coat and slung it over a chair, trying out her new title. The words had sounded strange when Amelia said them to herself, but when Elijah said them, it was even worse. His tone was a formal one, save perhaps for the last comment, and it was a testament to how much their relationship had changed when Amelia found his formality fitting. In a year, their only exchanged had been brief and forced, and now, with her a professor and he a student, it seemed they would never branch out from that again. Amelia tried to force a smile, but it came out rueful. Perhaps it was for the best.

“Potions was the position offered to me,” Amelia said simply, uncrossing her arms and placing her palms on the desk beside her hips, “Which I am certain Headmaster Doyle had a hand in. But also, potions is a beautiful subject with a lot of potential. I have always appreciated the balance it provides between straightforward instructions, and opportunities for development. New potions are invented yearly, and old ones are improved upon with the discovery of different ingredients, or improved quality of known ingredients.

“In short, potions is not a stagnant subject, and it is that boundless potential that drew me to the subject,” Amelia finished, biting her tongue against adding ”And it means I get to teach you,” in a sarcastic manner. Shooting scathing remarks at Elijah might have been fine when they were classmates, but now that the power dynamic had changed, each comment she made to him held different weight, and so far, it was not a weight she was willing to throw around thoughtlessly.

They had to be kidding her... they just had to be kidding. Amelia Lyons... Elijah Krum, and who knew who else, all in the same classroom. This was hell... that's what it was, hell in it's highest form. The Devil had skipped straight past the dying part, and put her straight in, not caring about her, or her emotions. Noo, no one ever cared about that. Chase stood in the Entrance Hall, staring at the stairs heading down. She had seen Elijah head this way, and so she knew.. she knew that he would be down there.. probably sitting down there, smooching on the teacher. Dammit, why did he have to be so gorgeous?! Why couldn't he keep his big brown eyes to himself? It wasn't fair, that's what it was.. it just wasn't freaking fair.

Rolling a strand of hair between her fingers, she stared at the entry to the potions corridor, before putting on a brave face, and glaring straight ahead. Better now or never eh? So she plunged into the icy depths of the school, and walked quickly. It was a short treck through the cold though, and even though it sucked beyond belief, she just couldn't get out of her head, the fact that she was going to be taught by Amelia Lyons... THE Amelia Lyons... with Elijah Krum in the classroom.. her jealousy radars would be off the hook, and she wasn't even dating the guy! It wasn't fair! And it just reaffirmed her belief that she had been put in hell. Finally making it to the door, she didn't hesitate, but simply pushed it open. She managed to catch the last few words the teacher had said before she entered.

”In short, potions is not a stagnant subject, and it is that boundless potential that drew me to the subject."

Chase grimaced, and walked into the room. "Sorry, did I interrupt?" She asked softly, before moving to a seat as far away from them both as possible and sitting down, plopping her books on the desk and glaring at them. She had only caught a glance at Elijah, and her heart had melted, her eyes had burned, and she had died inside, ten times over. Why was she here? Why had she taken potions? Who knew.. but all she knew was that she was here now.. and she was going through hell.. and if she came back out at the other end... in one piece.. it would be a miracle. But while she was in here, she could pretend not to be, so she flipped open her book and buried her nose in it, pretending not to even notice the other two in the room.

After nearly an entire holiday filled with nagging, inner turmoil and entirely justified arguing, Samuel had decided to once again pick up the subject of potions, after his parents had finally bullied him into picking the class up once again.

Of course he knew that his reasons for quitting the class in the first place were completely and utterly fair, and this his parents were being unreasonable by telling the owl which delivered his howler the day after they got the letter home to poop on his bed, and bite his fingers.

The Howler itself was bad enough, the look on Doyle's face as it had exploded had been one of near pure joy (The first time anyone had seen him smile) as he'd watched Sam sink lower and lower into his seat.

However now there was a new Potions master, hopefully the new professor wouldn't be as horrible as the Headmaster had been, Sam was not afraid of quitting potions yet again.
Shivering as he walked down the stairs that led to the potions dungeon, Sam couldn't help but appreciate being a Gryffindor. Seriously, having to live in these conditions would be cause for much sorrow for Sam.

Pushing the door open he was pleased to see that he wasn't late, a problem which Doyle had constantly found infuriating, with only three other students having arrived so far, and the teacher nowhere to be seen so far.

"So where's the prof," he said, taking his old seat and leaning back, kicking his feet up onto the desk. "Any idea who it is anyway? Hopefully someone interesting," he commented, yawning and stretching with a few loud cracks, before paying more attention to the people around him. "Nice uniform there Amelia," he commented with a *****. He could've sworn she was graduating last year... mind you, Sam wasn't really on speaking terms with anyone more than a year above him, so his confusion, like his argument with his parents, was justified

Amelia had thought when another student arrived, she would be relieved. At least it would mean she didn’t have to be alone in a room with Elijah Krum for any extended period of time, especially now that their relationship was being forced to change yet again. But when Amelia saw a head of coppery red hair duck through the door and realized the newcomer was Chase Moor, she was tempted to ask the fates aloud if they meant to torture her this way through her entire tenure as a professor.

Chase was one among many reasons why Amelia and Elijah hadn’t worked out. Elijah had always been a womanizer, and although Amelia had heard all the rumors, she was never one to believe anything without proof. But there was no proof stronger than Elijah telling her point blank that Chase was pregnant, and then watching the growing evidence over the course of the next nine months. Chase had done a lot to hide her “condition”, but Amelia, and eventually the rest of the school, knew her secret. As she missed more and more classes, became more tired, ate more at dinner… all of these signs of growing life within her, Elijah’s life, had made Amelia come to begrudge a woman she hadn’t spoken to for any longer than five minutes, ever.

It seemed Chase was just as aware of the awkwardness of the situation as Amelia was, if her facial expression was any indication, and Amelia hastened to reply to her question, if only to fill the obdurate silence that had fallen over the dungeon since the girl’s arrival.

“No, not at all, please take a seat,” Amelia said, gesturing toward the room at large even as Chase slipped into a seat near the back of the room and buried herself in a book. Amelia was grateful at not having to perform circus tricks for Chase’s entertainment, but as the girl immersed herself in pointedly ignoring both Elijah and Amelia, the new professor realized how difficult she had made things on her past professors by not supplying any part of the conversation. This stagnant silence would have been perfectly fine if she had been a student, but for some reason it seemed more oppressive now that she was at the head of the classroom and the only obvious point of attention.

So this is why Doyle always despised lateness so much… Amelia thought, raising her hand to begin fidgeting with her necklace again, but dropping it as the door opened once more.

The newcomer was a Gryffindor boy named Sam whom Amelia identified as having been in class with at least once. She had never spoken to him, but judging from his opening lines, he at least knew who she was. What he didn’t know, however, was that Amelia was the professor he was looking for. Being mistaken for a student was a hazard of taking a professorial position just after graduation, and Amelia had anticipated it, but for all her prior knowledge, her response was hardly graceful.

Surprise, surprise.

“Sam, I’m- what I mean to say is-“ Amelia stuttered, before stopping herself and clearing her throat as a deep red blush rose from the edge of her cream-colored shell, up through her cheeks.

“It’s a good uniform for a professor,” Amelia finally managed, after carefully constructing her response to Sam’s flippant comment. She was careful to speak each word clearly so he couldn’t misconstrue her meaning.

“And if you could please keep your feet on the floor during today’s lesson, that would be preferable,” Amelia added, trying to regain some of the authority she had lost through her stuttering. It was perhaps unfair of her to take it out on Sam, but he was being rather disrespectful, lounging about in her classroom. He just hadn’t known until this moment that it was her classroom.

((Oh gosh, i replied with the wrong account before. Sorry, pet peeve of my own))

Sam looked curiously up at Amelia as she spoke, fighting back the urge to tell her to spit it out as she stumbled over something as simple as replying to someone's comment on their clothes.

Honestly, some people really needed to gain some confidence, how else could they expect to make it in the real world?

But as she finally managed to find the right words, Sam felt his jaw drop, his mouth hanging wide open as Amelia dropped a rather subtle hint as to why she was there, dressed in what was now obviously not a student's rebellious garb, but rather the suit of a professor.

Swinging his legs down he quickly regained his composure and had the good sense to close his mouth (You never knew what was in the air down in these dungeons) as he struggled to find the right words to reply to what she had said.

"Yes..., Prof.. Professor," he said, stuttering a little as he realised how grievous his error was, feeling his face burning as he dropped his head, avoiding the gazes of everyone in the room.

"Sorry, professor," he added, pulling his books out and opening to a random page, suddenly becoming highly interested in... Stomach expulsion potions... well, it was better than whatever lay above the lip of the page.

Sam’s reaction to her subtle hint that she was no longer a student proved to Amelia that she had gotten her point across. Perhaps it hadn’t been as eloquently as she had hoped to appear on her first day of class, but if Sam’s codfish impression was any indication, she had gotten the point across.

Amelia pretended to busy herself with moving around to the back of her desk, though she was aware that Sam was busy rearranging himself into something more becoming of a student addressing his new professor. Then it was his turn to stutter, and Amelia felt some small, selfish bit of relief at not having been the only one to mangle their words before the lesson could even begin.

With newfound confidence in the fact that she could not only stutter herself, but also incite stuttering, Amelia straightened a few already straight quills on her desk – a professor’s desk – and nodded curtly in Sam’s direction to indicate that she had heard him and was accepting his apology. With a quick scan around the room and to the door, Amelia looked down at the tiny face of the gold watch on her wrist and, as the last second ticked away, realized that it was officially time for her to begin the lesson.

“Good morning,” Amelia said after clearing her throat several times to ensure the words would actually come out when she attempted them, “As I’m perfectly aware you all know who I am, I won’t waste much time with introductions. As you’ve all undoubtedly deduced, I have accepted the position of Potions Mistress here at Hogwarts School.”

“I will not assume I can change the way any of you think of me – becoming a professor does not automatically raise one’s status with their former peers – but I do expect that you will treat me with the respect worthy of my role as your professor. Anyone choosing not to do so at any point in the semester will be asked to leave and receive an incomplete for that day’s work. In return, I will respect you as an autonomous student who is electing to take a NEWT level course, in which I hope you will learn something of value.

“Any questions?” Amelia asked, her heart thumping wildly in her chest, but focusing hard on not letting that show. She had just gotten through the speech she had been working on memorizing and delivering for the past four weeks. And it had only filled approximately 30 seconds of the total class time. But at least she had made it through. Perhaps not sounding entirely human – if you say anything enough times it starts to sound robotic – but she had said her peace, and was still in one piece.

Small victories, Amelia’s subconscious reminded her, probing her onward with the lesson.

“Today’s lesson,” the new professor continued, glancing down at a sheet of notes she had composed for today’s work, “Will focus on no potion in particular. Instead, I would like to work from a level which is perhaps more mundane, but absolutely fundamental to your success as a student of potions. We are going to be discussing the ingredients themselves.”

“To begin, can someone please tell me one potion ingredient that is known to have healing qualities?” Amelia inquired, trying not to look too long or too closely at any one student, lest her nerves completely get the best of her. She hadn’t stuttered outwardly yet, but her voice was becoming tighter the longer she had to talk under such harsh scrutiny.

((Note: The answer to this question may be found in some index online, or can be composed of knowledge you may have from your own life about certain plants, herbs, or other such things that have medicinal qualities. Creativity and accuracy will be rewarded equally.))