Professor Fawcett
September 26, 2012 9:14 PM
Lesson I for Intermediates (3rd-5th Years) by Professor Fawcett
When the students had returned at the first of September, the last of summer had still been hanging in the air, but time had passed, and now fall was definitely making its presence known. Soon enough it would fade into winter, and then half the school year would be past.It would seem like a lifetime had passed to the first years, no doubt, but to John, and perhaps some of the older students, it would seem like only a moment had passed since they arrived and began to work again. Somewhere between having long since begun to think of the year in terms of semesters, with the winter and summer holidays largely excised from his concept of them, and being far closer to eighty now than he liked to admit, John thought that for him, a whole year had started to seem like little more than the blink of an eye, at least whenever he paused to notice the date. For a moment, that would make him poignantly aware of his own mortality, and then he would snap out of it and focus on a more practical consideration, which was how much closer they were to the major exams.
With the intermediate class in particular, there never seemed to be enough hours in the day. The third years raced through material while he crammed as much detail into the fifth years as possible, and he sometimes worried that he didn’t pay enough attention to the fourth years in the middle of it all. He had some of his brightest and best students in the group, but at times, when he felt more old than he did competitive, he found it difficult to enjoy the experience due to the nature of the class. That, however, was not the students’ fault, and he was as careful as possible to keep them from knowing about it as he did the best he could with ‘em.
“Good morning,” he said to the class, looking around for empty seats which were usually filled. He would, of course, check the attendance roster against the faces while the students worked, and note any latecomers, but looking around was a habit, especially in a morning class full of students at the sleepiest time of their lives. “I hope you all have your wands today, as we’re going to make a potion which involves charms.”
He tapped the board with his wand, which began to fill itself with an outline of what he said. “The potion we will work on is a Memory Draught, the procedures for which are on this handout.” He flicked his wand again, sending a handout to each student. “The ingredients you will require are a spoon full of digitalis lutea, powdered root of wild carrot, dried thorn apple flowers, blueweed seeds, and valerian sprigs, and the incantations you will need are misceo, for combining ingredients, and constituo.”
The chalk paused for a moment, then began to draw a diagram of a hand holding a wand. John used his own to animate it so it repeated the appropriate motion. “To perform the first spell, you will extend your wand straight in front of you and over the cauldron, like so, and move your wand in a clockwise circle over the potion, finishing with a flick of the wrist. Your hand should be palm-up at the end of the motion.” He demonstrated over his own, pronouncing the incantation precisely; a flurry of bright, silver-white sparks fell from the tip of his wand, and the half-finished potion within bubbled for a few seconds before beginning to swirl slowly inside the cauldron. “For the second, you will only need to make a counter-clockwise circle, followed by a clockwise one, while using the incantation. Also, take great care in preparing your potion, as it can easily become poisonous if poorly done.
“As part of your homework, you will need to consult your Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs, Intermediate Level to determine if this is a potion for memory enhancement or memory suppression. I’d like a composition of at least one foot to explain why you came to the conclusion you did. I will move around the room as you work; please raise your hands to ask any questions about what you are doing. You may begin.”
OOC: Welcome to Intermediate Potions. To earn your House points, please follow all posting rules; you will earn more points through detailed, creative, and realistic posts. Tag Fawcett if you need him, and have fun!
The handout’s instructions are: combine chopped wild carrot root and blueweed seeds in mortar and crush to a coarse powder with pestle. Slowly add two tablespoons to cauldron. Warm gently for five minutes. Add a single valerian sprig and use misceo.. Add one tablespoon of digitalis lutea and give the potion four strong clockwise stirs, keeping consistent heat. Add three dried thorn apple flowers (whole) and give the potion three slow counter-clockwise stirs before using misceo. Add another sprig of valerian and stir seven times, the first counter-clockwise and alternating after, before using constituo. Take cauldron off heat and allow to cool completely before placing into flasks.
Subthreads: Can I please just live here? by Maximilian Joshua McLachla - Aladren with Arthur Carey, Aladren, Josh McLachlan
Falling at the first hurdle (?Tag Professor Fawcett) by Henny B-F-R, Aladren with Professor Fawcett
This class needs something fun... by Jorge Garcia, Pecari with Eris Ackart, Jorge Garcia
They solemnly convene to make a scene by Michael Grosvenor with Valerie Lennox, Crotalus
Learning Quickly. by Cepheus Princeton, Crotalus with Nora Dobson, Aladren
This sounds difficult. by Hope Brockert, Teppenpaw with Addison Thornton, Teppenpaw
Magic potions. by Russell Layne, Aladren
Thoughts with a cold. by Alicia Bauer, Aladren
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Professor Fawcett
Lesson I for Intermediates (3rd-5th Years)
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Professor Fawcett
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Maximilian Joshua McLachla - Aladren
September 27, 2012 1:59 PM
Can I please just live here? by Maximilian Joshua McLachla - Aladren
On principle, Josh practiced not giving his heart away to just any old thing, whether it was an object or a person. There were, of course, a few exceptions to this principle, one being a girl he was not allowed to see and the other being his academics. Potions, however, he included in its own category altogether. If he was feeling really sentimental, he privately liked to call it his first love. Even before Cecilia, he had loved the smell of brewing potions and the art of putting all these ingredients together to make something totally different. Magic had its uses and was essential to know, but making potions was Josh’s passion.The journal he usually carried around with him like the Bible was left in his room. He couldn’t really fathom how he could have forgotten to take it in his rush to leave before his roommates woke up. He tried not to dwell too long in the room with them there, usually sleeping much later than them in order to brew his experimental potions in the middle of the night and waking up much earlier in order to escape the palpable tension that always seemed to be around especially after Russell had been made a Prefect.
The bruise that had surrounded one of Josh’s eyes had healed completely over the course of the term with the help of two girls and their bruise balm. It was a little disconcerting that they were so willing to help him despite his and his family’s reputation, and it was also a little weird that they carried bruise balm in their bags. They both had stories about it, but Josh wasn’t sure if he totally believed them. It didn’t matter, though. Josh had sent Henny’s bruise balm back to her via one of the school owls. Josh’s personal owl had been killed back in England before he was sent to live in Australia, and he had never bothered to get another one. He just didn’t see the point.
Josh walked into Potions class five minutes early as always, his book bag heavier with all of his potions supplies. Though it was heavy, he carried it gladly. He dropped his bag onto the desk and sat down, feeling slightly awkward with his long arms and legs. He was six feet tall and still growing, though it had slowed down a lot since his growth spurt at thirteen. He was thankful for at least that.
He stopped thinking about his height as soon as class started and paid close attention to what they were doing for today. Josh didn’t know a witch or a wizard who didn’t carry his or her wand with them all the time. Josh had his wand with him: red oak, 13 inches, and phoenix feather. It was a really handsome wand in his opinion, and it was one of his most prized possessions, a close and reliable friend in troubled times. Josh hadn’t had many of those.
There was a story about the Memory Draught Uncle Inigo had once told him back when he was still a fun bachelor. In the early 20th century, the McLachlans were known for brewing illegal potions and poisons for their clients before two of the Scottish brewers were caught and sentenced to the Kiss and the others dispersed. But one of the popular poisons that people seemed to enjoy were the Memory Draughts gone wrong. There was a way, according to his uncle, to make the draught look extremely similar to what it looked like as a regular draught even though it was a poison. Only a careful potioneer would be able to tell the difference. But people would buy it and give it to the people they wanted to get rid of, telling them it would enhance their memory. And then they would be dead.
Josh himself had worked on the Memory Draught on his own a few times when he wanted a more challenging potion to work with. His first few attempts, his draught had turned into a foul-smelling, poisonous thing, but his last attempt in his dorm room before classes had gotten too busy had been almost perfect. Now would be the time to make it perfect, and Josh’s heightened interest in the subject helped motivate him.
As soon as the professor dismissed them, he began his work taking out the ingredients and taking out the necessary tools. He lit a fire under his cauldron, making sure to keep it small so the cauldron would warm slowly. By the time the wild carrot roots and blueweed seeds were crushed, the cauldron would be warm enough to warm the mixture.
Josh began chopping the wild carrot roots with surprising speed. It was clear that he was very comfortable chopping up ingredients with his paring knife. There wasn’t much else to do for his partner, he realized as soon as he finished chopping. Josh was getting better at sharing his space with someone else, but he was still slightly awkward in his social interactions. He didn’t really know what to ask his partner to do, or what job to give them. Once he was a potioneer, maybe then he would be allowed to work in solitude, only telling his assistants to get him certain ingredients. At the moment, Josh knew that everyone in this class considered themselves a potioneer. “Can you put a handful of the blueweed seeds into the mortar?” he asked as he brushed all the chopped up carrot roots into the bowl.
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Maximilian Joshua McLachla - Aladren
Can I please just live here?
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Maximilian Joshua McLachla - Aladren
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Arthur Carey, Aladren
September 28, 2012 7:57 PM
I wouldn't recommend it by Arthur Carey, Aladren
He was tired, his neck and shoulder feeling stiff and useless as he put his things down and refused to try to work them, but Arthur was in a pleasant enough mood as he took his seat in Potions and flipped through his slightly worn copy of the syllabus to refresh and confirm his memory of what they had in store for them today. Last night had been tiring, but very successful; they had had some initial problems with pronunciation, since neither he nor Jane really knew Old English, and one of the spells they had tried had nearly gone very wrong, but now things were back on track, and nights when he was too excited about something to sleep were what they made alertness draughts for.On one level, of course, he was a little embarrassed about being too excited by anything to sleep – it struck him as a very juvenile thing to do, something only appropriate for a small child waiting on Christmas morning. On another, though, the things he was doing were too exhilarating for him to really care. He had known from the start that he was telling the truth when he pitched the venture to Jane as the search for forbidden but important knowledge, and if he was honest he would admit that he had suspected it might relieve some of his boredom, but he hadn’t foreseen this. Even just thinking about it – the faded inks, the lights and suspense, the risk, Jane’s voice, low and harsh in languages a thousand years dead – made the world around him seem sharper somehow, less monotonous. It was utterly thrilling. He wondered if this kind of thing was what other people had in mind when they talked about something making them feel really alive, because that was how it was for him: like most of his life had been spent sleepwalking and he was only now really doing anything. His classes had always been the highlight of his time at school, but now, they often just felt like so much going through the motions until he could get back to important things, rather the way he felt about most meals. It was somewhat unusual for Arthur to have any memory of what he ate on any given day, since he usually ate it quickly, thinking about other things while he did, and then got back to business.
Today’s class, however, was analogous to a feast, something he thought he was going to remember. Arthur took out his wand – elm and dragon heartstring, nearly fourteen inches; he remembered thinking when he was first offered a try with it that it was too long, but the handling of it had come easily from almost the moment after he had that thought, and he had grown much taller since then anyway – and listened, much more of his attention than usual focused on his Head of House, as Professor Fawcett explained the lesson, complete with helpful animated chalk diagrams and a demonstration. Regardless of what some research into herblore and procedures told him about what this potion did to memory, it sounded extremely useful, and it was complex enough to present a challenge. An at least slightly better than lukewarm ripple of contentment went over Arthur as he looked over the handout. Two good days in a row, then; he was almost afraid to get up tomorrow, or thought he should be.
When they were dismissed to work, Mr. McLachlan, who was seated beside him, began to work with his own ingredients without comment, and so Arthur did the same, setting up the cauldron before measuring out blueweed seeds and trying to recall properties of the plant. He had read a set of instructions a few weeks ago which involved the root, but the seeds were slipping his mind at the moment. Unperturbed, he began to chop wild carrot roots, and it was then that his roommate chose to speak.
“I have,” he said, pointing to his mortar. “Together, then, or shall we make a contest of it?” Professor Fawcett had not, after all, said they must work together, and they wouldn’t be able to if they wanted to during the CATS. Besides, he was curious to measure himself directly against Mr. McLachlan, who had the unflattering habit of trying to make potions when he assumed the rest of the dorm was asleep. Arthur found this most unsporting of him. He, too, practiced magic and potions in unapproved environments, but he took care not to do so around his roommates, particularly the prefect.
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Arthur Carey, Aladren
I wouldn't recommend it
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Arthur Carey, Aladren
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Josh McLachlan
October 04, 2012 4:43 PM
Why ever not? by Josh McLachlan
It was something of a relief that Arthur didn't, or hadn't, expected them to work together. He had already started on his own and Josh wondered if his roommate usually did the potions on his own in class without a partner. It made sense to do individual practices now with CATs coming up and the pressure to perform individually on them.Josh wasn't an inherently competitive person. He liked to be in the shadows more often than not, but a potions competition sounded inviting. As long as Josh didn't have to rush in order to finish it, he would be fine. He enjoyed taking his time with potions and making sure everything was perfect, something he was sure Arthur would understand. Josh knew that, intellectually, Arthur was his equal, or at least close to it. It would be challenging, to say the least, especially because the Memory Draught wasn't Josh's strongest potion. The practice would do him good.
"A contest," Josh said, nodding at Arthur. He thought about mentioning prizes, but he didn't care for those. A friendly contest was good enough for him, and knowing that he had made the best potion would be a prize in itself. "May the best potioneer win," he said cordially, nodding at Arthur again. Potions class suddenly had a different air after he uttered those words, and he began concocting his potion, taking the handful of blueweed seeds and placing them into his mortar and crushing them. Periodically, he paused and rubbed the mixture between his fingers, feeling the consistency of the powder before crushing it again. The constant motion put Josh into his own world as he worked, concentrating on nothing but his work. Once it felt like a coarse powder, he stopped and then took out his tablespoon.
It was simple perfectly measuring out the powder and dumping it into the cauldron with care. The cauldron was warm enough now that it would stay a consistent heat for a little while, for five minutes at least. Josh had five minutes to wait now, and he checked his watch to make sure he would know exactly when the five minutes would be up.
The minute hand had reached five, and Josh dropped in the valerian sprig and used "misceo" with the hand movements. The wandwork was familiar to him, and he watched as the solution bubbled, then swirled around just as Professor Fawcett's had done. Satisfied with that, he put one tablespoon of the digitalis lutea he had previously measured out into the cauldron and stirred the potion clockwise four times with his wand. He put his hand near the bottom of the cauldron, feeling the heat, and lowered the force of the fire underneath a bit to keep the heat consistent. The rest of the world had become background noise. This was what Josh excelled at, closing the world off to him and settling in his own zone of focus.
OOC: Shall we continue on with the thread, having them work in solitude, and have them finish up the potion and see who won at the end?
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Josh McLachlan
Why ever not?
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Josh McLachlan
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Arthur
October 15, 2012 6:53 PM
The first year classes would get annoying eventually by Arthur
Arthur smiled politely and inclined his head slightly, acknowledging both the challenge and the respect implied in it, a respect he returned. He did not feel a great deal of affection for this roommate, but he did respect him, at least academically. Mr. McLachlan came from a most unfortunate family, and he was not gifted with great personal charm, but he was a formidable wizard with an impressive intellect, and those were traits which Arthur highly valued, too. “May he do so,” he echoed, and turned his attention to his own potion.The temptation in Potions was always, for him, to fall into something like a trance as he worked. It was comfortable to do so, but not at all safe. Success with Potions involved not only precision, but sometimes, for the less specific directions, speed and alertness too, as well as just a feel for the ingredients. A great potioneer would need to be intimately familiar with the qualities of every item in his supply closet, which, at this point, Arthur was not; the best he could usually do was quickly reading summaries for the more obscure ones from his books, then trying to remember the answers next time, along with anything extra he managed to learn between classes where the ingredient was used. He reminded himself to be patient. Acquiring knowledge was a process, and not a mad, self-destructive one like a Quidditch game. He had time enough. For now.
He carefully added in the thorn apple flowers and, his arm bent at an uncomfortable angle, stirred the potion slowly before removing the stirrer and performing the charm over his cauldron. Once the brew settled again, he added the valerian and began to stir again, his eyes screwed up tightly in concentration as he kept up with the stirs, putting one finger of his free hand down against the table for the first stir, then two for the second, and so on, until he had to start over for the last two.
The one problem, of course, would be if he had lost focus and had two of the stirs go the same way. Biting his lower lip, absorbed enough in his work not to notice or care, he performed the final setting charm and stood back to watch what happened, holding his breath for a moment as bubbles popped and he waited to see if he had gotten it right.
It was, he thought, a little too dark, in the final analysis; either it would lighten as it cooled, or he had been a little too heavy-handed with the blueweed seeds in the beginning, or perhaps had just a hair too much or too little digitalis in the spoon. He glanced at Mr. McLachlan’s cauldron, which looked a bit better, and he inclined his head again, again in acknowledgment, though this time, less agreeably to him, in acknowledgment of another's superiority.
“I believe you will prove the victor,” he said agreeably, beginning to tidy his station. They had to wait for the potions to cool anyway, and he did not like to leave tasks until the last minute. “Of course,” he added casually, though the twisted smile which accompanied his words most likely gave him away, “you do spend more time than most of us practicing your potions, don't you?”
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Arthur
The first year classes would get annoying eventually
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Arthur
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