Potions Class; NEWT Level, Lesson 1

Truth be told, Vincent didn’t have much love for the art of Potionmaking. The class he would have liked to teach was Alchemy, but that was not taught at Hogwarts. He had applied for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but given his history as a death eater Vincent was not surprised that the school had employed him as Potion Master instead. He just found it ironic that the headmaster had instead chosen to give the Defense position to Aaron Marcheti, a man Vincent thought was one of the most dangerous wizards in Britain.

Still, potion making required the same discipline and skills that Alchemy did, and Vincent was more than competent at it. Really, Vincent was just glad to be back at Hogwarts. He had always loved the place, and it hadn’t been a long time – five years – since he had been the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. Some of the NEWT students would probably recognize him.

However, right now he was not the High Inquisitor, but the potion master, so he waited in the dungeons for the NEWT class to show up. Behind Vincent a marker was floating midair, furiously scribbling the instructions on the board.

--------------------------
Hey guys, I’ll post again in two days. Just RP your character coming in and perhaps talk to each other.

Long fingers clasped either side of the timetable, imprecise eyes glancing across the squares, trying to ascertain which lesson block it was next. Already, the day had been long and tedious but the one consolation was coming in this hour: potions. A savage sort of smile cracked open the mouth of the blonde, icy creature stood on the fourth floor. She took a moment to compose herself as satisfaction took hold and then, all at once, she turned, stuffing her timetable into her bag, to hurry down the grand staircase, her shoes clipping on the stone.

The dungeons were like her spiritual home. She loathed being up on high with the other Ravenclaws. Marriage certainly had its benefits, though, and since the new term she’d been in Hogsmeade with her husband playing at domestic bliss. Its benefits outweighed the falsities of it all, though. She liked her home. She quite liked her husband, too, but all of it paled when it came to the potions cauldron and it came to the wonder and the reverence with which the witch meted out her ingredients and brewed her draughts. She would have been the apple of Severus Snape’s eye.

Entering the classroom, Isadora Malfoy-Nott lingered a moment in the doorway, her fingers on the wood. She schooled her features into a look of impassiveness and strode inside, letting the door close behind her. She found her spot towards the front of the room, nearest the storeroom, and set her bag down before inclining her head to the professor respectfully, uttering her greeting softly to him. Then, opening her satchel, the witch began to remove her things and prepare for the lesson.

Ducky Baker supposed he ought to get back to attending classes. He wasn't too keen on the whole idea, but he thought it couldn't hurt. He wasn't all to worried about sixth year, as it was in between exam years. As long as he did not fail so badly that he had to retake classes or the entire year, he wasn't really concerned about school. The only thing really getting him to go to class was the fact that Nora was already going. Might as well walk with her.

He entered the dungeon right behind a familiar face.  He paused, letting her take her seat, before turning to Nora. "I have a mission today." He knew she would understand, so he did not hesitate in chasing down Isadora Malfoy and dropping into the seat next to her. He smiled cheekily at her as he began pulling out his book, his horribly incomplete potions kit, his cauldron, smiling all the while at the girl next to him.

Isadora slowly let her eyes slide shut as she felt a presence beside her. She knew exactly who it was, too. She just wished it wouldn’t have been unseemly to hex him in the middle of Potions. Exhaling softly, the witch reopened her eyes and glanced down at her wedding ring, glinting in the low light of the dungeon classroom. This was enough to give her strength. In Hogsmeade there was a safe haven waiting for her. She wouldn’t have to put up with the nonsense of Ducky Baker, loathsome Gryffindor that he was, for any more time than her class hours allotted. She took a sobering breath and then continued to set out her things, studiously ignoring him.

The state of his potions kid was beyond woeful. Longbottom’s was better. She hated that he could just sit there while she demurely stood arranging her things neatly. It didn’t take long for her temper to simmer and froth and then boil over. She turned, abandoning her things, and slapped at his hands before bringing the potion kit forward and quickly setting things to rights, corking vials properly and fixing labels – even scribbling a label for one ingredient that was wrongly done so and would have been deadly if it had gone into what the label asserted it was meant for. One vial was filled with dirt. She didn’t know why.

“You are a disgrace to the art of potions,” she hissed, pushing the kit back to him when she was done with an affected sniff.

Apollo had to wonder if the person planning his schedule had taken into account the fact that he would be attending classes with his twin the entirety of every day. That, he thought to himself bitterly, was simply unfair, and unnecessary. Upon entering, Christian lifted his chin at Ducky, greeting his friend without hesitation, while Apollo merely wanted the class to begin. Potions was his favorite, after all, barring Herbology. The two went together rather well, though, so he had trouble, sometimes, picking between the two.

Still, he did whatever it took to avoid sitting next to his brother - which meant wandering to the back of the classroom and sinking down behind one of the two-person desks that had both seats empty. Well, one seat empty, now. Christian, on the other hand, had settled across from Ducky, clearly determined to be near his friend, if only to find out what the boy was doing with the blonde he had sat down next to.

All Apollo could hope, though, was that it wouldn't be a distraction. Or - actually... He took that back. Apollo hoped that it caused such a mess that Christian and his friend were told off. If nothing else, perhaps the Slytherins would walk away with more points that class.

Lily liked Potions - she was good at it, and it was such a taxing subject that she could get fully absorbed in the topic and avoid scrutiny. Retaking her seventh year had not been easy, nor had it been fun. Eyes followed her, whispers tickled her ears in the hallways. Everywhere she went, she was Lily that dropped out, Lily that went off the deep end, Lily that probably should have gone to rehab instead of returning to Hogwarts.

So, she just went through the rounds. Wore her uniform, went down to the dungeons, and took the first seat she spotted, a seat in the back next to one of the Zabini boys, a Slytherin a year beneath her - no. Now he was in her year. Great. Saying nothing to him, she began to unpack her things, hoping he wasn't the kind to stir the cauldron.

Ugh. Puns.

Vincent continued to write on his parchment as several students made their way in and set up their potion kits. Every so often, his eyes would flick upwards towards the students. He recognized some of them. The Ravenclaw girl at the front was clearly the elder Malfoy sister. He looked down on the parchment with a list of NEWT student’s names to see her name - Isadora Malfoy, Vincent was surprised she had ended up in Ravenclaw. At the back, he also noticed Lily Potter – she had been a student back when Vincent had been High Inquisitor.

When enough people arrived, Vincent finally got up. “Welcome to NEWT Potions, I am Professor Majere. This class will likely be your most difficult class in your NEWT studies, so pay close attention. Until now, you have merely followed a set list of instructions to create very simple potions,” Vincent said roughly. “And while you have done that quite well, otherwise you would not be here, anyone with half a brain could concoct those potions. At NEWT level, you will be doing something that you rarely do here – using your brain creatively. “

“In front of you, you have a bottle of Pumpkin Juice which contains one drop of the Draught of Living Death. This potion puts the drinker into a deep, magically induced sleep. At the end of the class, you will take this potion and likely wake up several hours later,” Vincent said with half a smirk. He was bluffing of course, while the juice was spiked, it was hardly enough to knock them out for five minutes. “That is, unless you can produce the Wiggenwald Potion, which is an antidote for the Draught of Living Death.”

“To do this you need to understand Galpalott’s First Law, which you should have read this summer,” Vincent said, fully aware that nearly no one would have opened their potions book over the summer. “In short, the first law states that the antidote for any poison can be determined by inverting the alchemy used to create the poison. So, if you have the ingredients for the Draught of Living Death, you can concoct it’s antidote by adding everything in reverse order and adding a catalyst like dittany or a fairy wing-...“ Vincent continued to explain for quite some time.

Here, Vincent noticed some students not paying much attention. He frowned, he had wanted this first class to go well. “Tell you what, if any of you successfully create the antidote, I will give them a prize – a very rare potion.”

“Hopefully that gives you an added incentive to get it right, good luck.”


--------------------------------------------
Instructions for the Draught of Living Death (Antidote will be reverse order)
1. Add the Infusion of Wormwood
2. Add the powdered root of asphodel
3. Stir twice clockwise
4. Add the sloth brain
5. Add the Sopophorus bean’s juice
6. Stir Seven times anti-clockwise
7. Potion should be pale lilac

Guys feel free to cause trouble in class or talk to each other! This is a group roleplay. And don’t get it right in one post, we still have over 3 weeks left! I’ll probably make a few more posts after this one.

She tried to ignore him. Tried to believe that Ducky Baker was the type of person you could just try to pretend wasn't there. But that had never, ever been the case. Especially not at Hogwarts, where he was a friend to every guy and a dream to every girl. Isadora Malfoy might have seen him make a fool of himself when he had been out of his element but here, even in one of his worst classes, he was in his element. And there would be no ignoring him.

She finally snapped and Ducky took the opportunity to cat-call at his friend, "He-ey, Christian!" He gave his friend an eager thumbs up and looked back at Isadora. "A disgrace? Oh please, noble teacher, tell me how to be better."

Before she could, Professor Majere gave his instructions. Ducky's eyes remained on Isadora throughout it, certain he was making her uncomfortable. Once the professor gave them leave, he said, "So... wanna walk me through this?"

The loudness of her table-partner made the Ravenclaw witch cringe. She closed her eyes, desperately wishing that the day would hurry itself so she could go home and make an art of avoiding her husband so that she could brew for the rest of the afternoon until a House Elf called for dinner. She had truly come to loathe classes and hadn’t a sense within her of how she was going to continue for yet another year at the intolerable establishment that was Hogwarts. She’d lost the romance of a child entranced by shifting staircases and brisk wand-work. Her parents had seen to that.

When his voice levelled at her, she chanced a look at who it was her table-partner had been talking to. Her cousin. Both cousins were there, in actual fact. She bristled, and not for want of loving them either. She merely wished that Christian could have been more like his brother and not invited the strange semi-aquatic animal into acknowledgement of him. Thankfully it was a moment in which she was relieved of his company but he soon reinstated himself in her presence.

She opened her mouth, wanting to go from the very beginning and in fact tell him she needn’t bother, there was no helping him. Before she could, the professor began talking and she was glad for it. She didn’t need any more distractions from Ducky. She wanted to absorb without interruption what it was the professor was saying and she quickly began to take notes, wetting her quill before letting her neat script decorate her parchment, her eyes flicking up now and then to resume her attentiveness and to show the professor if he happened to look her way that she was listening.

Of course she was. She was taking in every word.

When the professor finished, the witch reached forward and picked up the bottle of pumpkin juice. She turned it a bit and narrowed her eyes at the roving liquid inside. She put it down after a moment and picked up her wand, poking flames into the Bunsen burner to get the heat going underneath her cauldron. When Ducky spoke to her again Isadora wanted to strangle him. She steeled herself, though, and willed herself to be pleasant even if the sorry Gryffindor didn’t deserve it.

“It’s really not that difficult,” she bristled, reaching for her potions recipe book. She’d been writing them down in a different book to her textbook, precisely so that she’d remember them but also so that she could add her own little tweaks she found worked better. When she opened it to the Draught of Living Death potion, she found she hadn’t made too many changes to it. A few extra stirs here and there, after all said and done. Tapped her finger against the page thoughtfully and moved to her potions kit, picking out her asphodel – freshly picked from the grounds.

“We’ll work together,” she added stiffly, “if you really want to. You can help by powdering this in the pestle and mortar. Please,” she added, cringing inwardly as she held out the vial containing the flower.

Max had had a very enjoyable day unlike the looks of sullen faces and rounded eyes of his peers. Albeit he may have had to endure a complicated double transfiguration lesson that Max could now only relate to as a physics class but the day had still be one of the best. Why? It was transfer day and Max had been secretly listening to the wizard wireless network in lessons, heck he'd even skipped herbology that morning to hide in the boys bathroom on the fourth floor where a group of avid Quidditch fans listened to the stream of updates that started the day.

Although he couldn't hadn't managed to sneak a listen in transfiguration double charms had been a great place to listen for that was always one class you knew you could do whatever you wanted without the Professor knowing purely because there was so much going on around the room - plus Max had quite the nack for charms. Potions however could be a different story.

For a start it was perhaps Max's worst class. Not that he didn't achieve good grades, he did, but the Ravenclaw had never left a potions class feelings anything less than stressed. The whole concept of multi-tasking, having something boil at the right temperature and ensure certain things were diced to a particular size whilst checking the colour of the gurgling muck inside the cauldron. No. Potions was not Max's subject.

Upon walking into the room Max knew he probably wouldn't be able to listen to the WWN and keep up to date with who the Holyhead Harpies were keeping on their squad. The sound of the words 'Galapotts law' and 'Draught Of Living Death' had the Ravenclaw wishing he'd skipped potions instead of herbology that morning.

He'd found a seat besides Lily Potter, at least that way he'd be able to concentrate entirely on the potion and perhaps take away some knowledge from this class. Lily was a quiet girl who Max often noted kept herself to herself - unless of course she was causing a scene during a Graduation ceremony with Isadora's husband. Hopefully none of that drama would happen in todays class for Max simply wanted to leave in one piece as soon as possible.

Opening his book to the correct page the Ravenclaw began to skim read the instructions in an attempt to focus his thoughts before beginning.