Repello Muggletum: a Hogwarts Roleplay discussion

Potions classes are held here, by the venerable Professor Nyx. He doesn't tolerate lateness, but is a fair, if a little judgmental, teacher. The walls are cold, stony, and slimy with water from countless generations. Torches in wall sconces give little warmth or light to the place, and noxious fumes emanating from bubbling cauldrons cannot be a good sign...

Prim sighed, looking over into thebubblinng contents in her cauldron. She swiveled her head like an owl, loooking oveer at her Slytherin partner that was decorated in emerald and sikver. Very cold, and not happy colors. "Are you sure we put in enough newt eyes? Thepotion should be blue by now." She grimaced down at their murky brown potion. That does not look drinkablee.

"If you didn't, it's not my fault now is it." Cold to accompany the impassive look upon his face. He hadn't counted the newt eyes, nor did he bother to check to make sure she had counted correctly, for potions was one of the few classes he could bear to slide past with an E, though his partner might say otherwise.

"Yes, it is because you were helpinf me, as far as Peofessor Nyx knows," she said in a chastising tone. Her pixie-like features were pulled into a frown, her lips setting into a pout of pink lipstick. "I wonder if we put in too many. Oh, I hope not. I don't want to start over."

"It'd be best to start over, seeing as how something obviously went wrong." His fingers curled around the base of his wand, very much prepared to start over--perhaps this time do it right.

Prim sighed, fixing the large golden rose on her head. It was supposed.to be saved for one of the dances, but she had been too excited to wait. "Oh, fine. But don't let the professor see!" She begged, turning back to look over her notes and instructiins again.

"Perfect." The tip of the wood tapped the edge of the pewter cauldron once, a muttered, "Evanesco!" and the murky contents of the failed potion vanished. "Once more, I suppose."

Prim's frown deepened. "Well, try it again!" She urged, not daring to see if the teacher was cokiing to look at their potion. "Do you think he charmed the cauldron."

"I assume you know the charm better than I? After all, you are a Ravenclaw," he retorted, a small smirk crawling onto his face. "Evanesco!" The contents vanished as if into thin air. Daniel raised an eyebrow to Prim. "I believe now would be the time to read the directions. Carefully."

"And you are as sarcastic as the rest of the Parseltongues." She retortrd, rolling her big briwn eyes towards the ceiling. "Anyway, you are going to read the directiins to me. So make sure you read them carefully."

"Yet another common misconception. You really must learn to get past those." She never specified whether or not to read them aloud. How convenient. Daniel skimmed the page, eyebrow raised slightly as he sought to find what was done wrong the time before. "You forgot to stir the potion before adding the eye of newts. What a pity."

Prim sighed, already uncapping the pitiful amounts of ingrediants left. She gave Daniel a look, one that involved a raised eyebrow. "I don't know what idiots find your tongue amuaing, but I don't. So if you would just please read me the directiins, that would be fantastic." And yet despite her anger, Primrose couldn't help but feel a little interested in his witty comments. Maybe Slytherins weren't all air-headed.

"Crush four sprigs of lavender and two portions of 'Standard Ingredient', found in the appropriately labeled cloth sack," Daniel awarded with the slightest roll of his eyes. Draught of Peace. Simple enough, though obviously not simple enough for the Ravenclaw.

Prim cut him a glare, reaching for the sprigs of lavender and 'Standard Ingrediant.' "Here," she said, tossing him two sprigs. "You can crush some, too." Smirking, she turned to her own sprigs, grinding them in a bowl until they were finely crushed.

"We're not six anymore. If you want to finish this on time, finish crushing those while I start on this." With that, he gladly declined the childish offer to start boiling the rather thick mucus dripping into the cauldron.

Prim, but three the lavemder in there as well. After getting the correct amount of measurements, she turned back to Danielle. "Now what do yiu need me to.do?"

"I need you to wait. It needs time to sit," Daniel answered. Patience. He doubted she had any. "So don't touch it."

Prim sighed, more in annoyance that.he assumed she didn't know better than to touch it than the fact that she had to wait. She did, however, glance worridly at the clock.

A minute passed--which seemed a bit longer in the almost-completely-silent classroom--and Daniel began stirring the mixture, adding in the newt one by one. Eventually the potion began to take in a bluish hue, as described in their book.

"Well, would you look at that! You're really good at this potiinss stuff." She began collecting the ingredients, now running against the clock to show zprofessor Nyx the potion, and take care of all the ingrediants.

A few increments of the ground lavender drizzled into the tinted liquid, and the potion was stirred exactly seven times clockwise, no more, no less. Daniel retrieved a glass phial which contained the draught and was labelled with the pair's name.

Shrugging, Prim went to the ingrediants cabinet to sort through the ingrediants. She quickly plaxed the numerous vials and botttles on the correct shelves before heading back to her table, her shoulder bag digging into her shoulder.

((mods RP professors, right?))

After his books were safely tucked away in his school bag, Daniel shifted back into the stool, resting his head upon his head, his elbow upon the table, with the utmost bored expression plausible. The moments before dismissal were aways the longest.

(( Yes.))

Prim sat beside him, long fingers thrummingnagainst the wood. She swung her feet in the air since she was for.from being close to reach.the floor.

((what now?))

((Haha, not sure... yher potiom spills and they have to stay to re-make it again! XD))

((XD I think he would walk out if that was the case--he has a phial filled with it so that they could turn it in just in case.))

((Sure. Let's take this to chat. ))

((Agreed. *deletes spell*))

((Agreed. *deletes spell*))

A very nearly late Cecil sauntered into the classroom and seated himself in the last vacant spot left. He gave Nyx a broad smile from where he sat, who rolled his eyes in return. He'd been pushing tardiness since the beginning of the year, though he had always managed to be in just before class began, giving the professor no excuse to punish him.

That open seat was right next to Rosaline Kelly. No Gryffindor would sit with the Slytherin, and her own housemates didn't really like her all that much, either. Now, Rosaline knew who Cecil was and she really really didn't want him as a Potions partner. Potions was her forte, and now here he was, nearly late and probably half-asleep, with the potential to ruin the day's assignment.

"Please let it be a notes day, please let it be a notes day..." she repeated over and over to herself in a small voice.

"Put your quills down, class. We're going to brew today." It was not a notes day.

"Don't worry, Kelly," Cecil said, with a charming little smile. "We'll get through it together." A couple of Gryffindors at the table next to them snickered, and rightfully so. Cecil cared very little for potions, only taking the class because of his father, and it was no secret that he wasn't one of Nyx's favourites.

((*Nyx))
Rosaline could only look through the spaces between her fingers at the grinning Gryffindor, letting out a groan. "Professor, I'm feeling a bit ill," she said weakly, honestly. The idea of failing because of Cecil Graham made her sick.

"Just wait until you see the rat's spleen," Nyx replied. He wouldn't even be lenient on one of his best students. Rosaline instantly blamed Cecil for having to sit next to her.

Just don't even look at him, she told herself, focused on the board as Professor Nyx waved his wand and the directions appeared. Unfortunately, it was not an easy potion.

((ah bollocks))
A chuckle escaped his mouth at Nyx's retort. "As much as I hate him, the man's got a sense of humour," Cecil commented quietly as he peered at the board. The writing was tiny and there was a lot of it. He resisted a groan.

"Right then. Better get started."

"Don't touch anything!" Rosaline said instantly, but then she recovered. She was not going to let Cecil get to her this early. Later, perhaps. "I mean, I'll get everything," she said in a lighter tone, with a smile that was forced and didn't reflect in her eyes. Rosaline got up from her seat to gather their supplies, returning quickly with her arms full.

"Oh my God, Kelly, I'm not that incompetent," Cecil called after her. It wasn't like he couldnt carry things. Besides, he'd gotten some pod marks on his potions. "Do you need help with that?"

"No," she said pointedly. After being shown up by him with unspoken spells a week before, she had committed herself to practicing the skill. The ingredients and tools floated onto the table and landed gently; Rosaline couldn't help but feel better because of it.

"Look," she said, facing Cecil with her arms folded over her chest and her eyes narrowed. "Draught of Peace is an extremely sensitive potion. Add a single drop too much of anything, and the drinker is put into a deep and irreversible sleep. So don't screw up."

"It wouldn't hurt to have a little faith in me," he said defensively, a mock hurt expression on his face. "I'll be careful, all right? Calm down." Cecil scooted his chair towards the desk. It wasn't like anyone was going to be drinking it, after all.

"Whatever," Rosaline muttered, focusing on the board. She would measure the ingredients, and Cecil could busy himself doing a simple a job. Despite what he'd said, she still didn't trust him. Cecil was all smiles and play. He never seemed to take anything seriously.

"Alright then, Cecil. Cut the Valerian root, julienne-style. And that means in thin little sticks."

"I know what it means," Cecil replied and pulled the knife, Valarian root, and cutting boards towards him. He'd spent far too long in the kitchens at home in order to steer clear of pompous guests that his parents loved to invite. Albeit, his progress was slow, but it wasn't a disaster.

Rosaline didn't complain, because while he focused on that trivial task, she carefully measured out each of the ingredients. Twice. Not that she was always that worried, but Cecil made her nervous. "There," she said, placing little bowls of powders neatly on the table.

"Better now?" Cecil asked as he finished off the last of the root. She needed to calm down. Relax a bit. He'd seen her measure the ingredients, double checking them (a waste of time, in his opinion).

"Not bad, Graham," Rosaline allowed, seemingly have calmed down. So she'd overreacted somewhat. "Can you heat the cauldron? It should only take two minutes at medium-high heat. Then lower it to medium." While he did that, she would check the syrup of hellbore to see if it was adequate. Add a drop of sour syrup and their eyebrows get singed off.

((I feel like they should screw up right at the very end.))
"All right." The flame flickered on, licking the sides of the cauldron. Cecil turned his attention to the clock, watching the second hand tick on (and how slowly it ticked).

((They will.))
Rosaline wrinkled her nose against the sharp smell. It was good, alright. She squinted to see what was first - the order was crucial to the potion. "Here," she said, handing the powdered moonstone to Cecil. He was already there, and it wasn't too difficult to add something. "Don't stir it yet."

"Don't worry, I can read." He poured in the moonstone and set the container aside. Cecil was growing bored, which was never a good sign. There was too much waiting with potions. Never enough action from the potion except for the occasional change in colour.

"Just a reminder," Rosaline said, sighing. His lack of urgency with the assignment annoyed her to no end. She carefully added the powdered unicorn and porcupine quill, waiting for them to dissolve, and added the Valerian. "Fourteen stirs, seven clockwise and seven counter-clockwise. Be gentle."

Cecil gave a noncommittal nod and stirred the cauldron as instructed. He rested his head on his head, arm propped up against the desk.

Rosaline couldn't help but watch, counting the strokes in her head. He was just sitting there. She was relieved to find that he stopped at the right time. "Alright, now we lower the temperature," she adjusted the flames to low heat. "And add the helleborn."