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 Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed

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PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Fri Jan 12, 2018 6:30 am

The lesson began on a positive note; for one thing the students were very attentive and answered immediately once the questions began to appear on the board.

The first was Miss. Kingsley whose response was short and sweet. He nodded at her response "Yes, Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker and is known to drive people mad. The reason I bring this up is simple" from his coat he took out a very delicate crystal phial and opened it allowing the gas to expel and form into the shape of a heart. He had brewed this one specifically for this class. "In your literature, in your romance books the idea of being mad with love is very much true. Five points to Ravenclaw."

He signaled Miss...Foster was it? To smell it and pass it around. "As you smell it, a proper potion smells exactly of what your ideal partner is. Whether it be grass, ink, books etc. It is designed to create a weakness in each one of you."

Miss Goldstein continued but was too vague in his mind to properly give points. It was Miss Foster who continued. "Correct Miss. Foster, five points to Gryffindor. Now as she said, the creation of love in the potion is not real. It is an obsession."

Moving towards the center once more, the long table in the front showed what he was going to have them work on.

"For today's lesson, I offer you creativity. I want you to create a love potion not just based on your assigned reading, but rather the nature of your love. Before you, you have the following ingredients: Mother of pearl, lavendar, chillies, lillies, dragon blood, rose water, rose petals, Aqua Vitæ, dittany and anything from the storage room. Work with the basis that you know and create your own variation."

He paused for a second and took everyone in. "This is a dangerous lesson for love is a deadly thing. When you are done with the potion, I will test the following: scent, creativity of use (please describe it), density, and the potency. Please note that you will receive a letter with your results and you will not take anything with you. You have an hour to complete your lesson please begin. Should you have any questions, feel free to ask"

OCC: Be as descriptive as possible. You will have permission to Godmod Mycroft to your table should you choose to. For every item chosen and it's reason I shall take that into consideration before sending out a "letter" with your grade. Mycroft will send an owl at a later time.

Feel free to PM me with questions.

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PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Fri Jan 12, 2018 11:27 am

[[OOC: I'm sorry it's so long. >.<]]

She took the potion, leaning forward and breathing in deeply, her senses momentarily filled with Irene. The taste and scent of strawberries, mixing with sweat… A very light smirk touched her features as she took but one more breath before passing it to the person next to her. Irene had been the closest thing to love she’d ever had, but it hadn’t been that, either. Love was… What was it? Delia didn’t know, nor did she care to. It was a distraction, mostly.

Her smirk only grew as the lesson was explained, eyes scanning the table before her. Her mother dabbled in potions, and while Delia herself didn’t do that herself, she knew the theory of it; she’d heard her mother talking to herself or explaining things as she worked. Her eyes scanned the table, taking in the ingredients, categorising them, and then moved to the cupboard, also taking stock of what there were.

A love potion, she knew, had a few different main types of ingredients.

The first was an item to bond, something to tie the drinker to the person. The stronger the bond ingredient — or the more of these — the stronger the bond.

The second was something sweet, either physically or symbolically. Romance was meant to be just that — sweet — and it would need to be captured. She wasn’t entirely sure what the effects were if more or less sweet items were used, nor did she care to know.

The third was anything hot, or fiery; love was meant to be a passionate display, fireworks, heat of the moment.

There had to be the right mixture of light and dark, of positive and negative, of poison and cure. That was, after all, what love was: the right mixture of wrong things and right things all jumbled together to produce… something. Love. Whatever it was, whatever it may be, that was what she was meant to understand. How were you suppose to conjure up something that you didn’t understand yourself? Did anyone really? Perhaps that was the reason love potions didn’t create love: nobody understood it.

In any case, Delia knew lust, and she knew sex, and she knew herself. Taking a small basket, she started collecting her items. First came the base ingredients, the typical ones that made up a normal love potion — pearl dust, an ashwinder egg, dragon blood, rose thorns — and then some of her own. A small death-cap, fire seeds, mistletoe berries, fairy wings, peppermint, and honeywater. For her base, she chose armadillo bile.

Moving back to her desk, she began to prep the items. She didn’t want to start making the potion only to realise that she didn’t have something she needed. First, she placed the death-cap in a bowl, crushing it with a pestle. Collecting half a teaspoon in a vial, she threw the rest away, careful not to get any on her hands. A quick cleaning spell later and the bowl and pestle were good as new, and she repeated the process with the mistletoe berries. Instead of just the juice, though, she added the mashed up flesh, too, putting that aside.

Cleaning the bowl again, she placed three fire seeds inside, this time cutting a tiny slit in each seed with her knife. She wanted to put it in whole, instead of just the juice. That would be the fire, along with the ashwinder egg. The honeywater would act as a cooler, hopefully helping to soothe a bit of the flames, as well as the sweet aspect.

The deathcap was the poison — the deadly part of desire that she knew all too well. The mistletoe was simply to cover the poison, making it safe(r) to drink. Balance, like everything, was key. Satisfied she had all she needed, Delia set to work.

First into the cauldron went the egg and rose thorns (four). She stirred it a few times, then carefully poured in the deathcap, leaning back to avoid the fumes that came from her cauldron. Quickly, while making sure to keep stirring counterclockwise, Delia tossed in the mistletoe berry. She continued to stir, not exactly knowing what she was waiting for until it happened: the potion turned blue, a shade that reminded her of the ocean, and she smiled to herself. So far so good.

Next came the fire seeds, and her smile widened as she heard them crackling in the potion. She stopped stirring, letting it sit for a few minutes while she moved onto the next ingredient — the bond.

This was probably what had her stumped the most. Typically, some kind of blood was used. Dragon blood was the most typical, with dragons being strong and large creatures, creating a better bond. But those were used in potions that were generic; it made the people fall for the first person they saw. It was unpredictable — as love itself usually was — but Delia liked control, liked creating her own fate and destiny. Tentatively, she picked up the small vial of dragon blood, knowing she needed to include it but not really liking what it would mean. And then the answer hit her, and her smile was replaced with a smirk as she put down the vial.

Glancing around quickly to make sure nobody was really watching her, she took the knife and pressed her finger to the tip. There was a sharp sting, not that she really minded, before she reached out, squeezing her finger a little so the blood gathered at the wound. She watched a single drop of blood fall silently into her mixture, quickly followed by another. Two drops were enough, and she quickly pulled back, not allowing any more blood to spill. Too much might not have been a good thing; she wanted to create a bonded infatuation, not an obsession. Tying a bandage around the cut, she went back to work.

Stirring the potion twice clockwise, she watched it turn from dark blue to a purple. Her blood had been the right call, it seemed. Reaching over, she picked up the honeywater and carefully measured out a teaspoon, pouring that in. Next, she grabbed the crushed fairy wings and added two pinches of that, followed by a sprinkling of pearl dust and a single mint leaf.

She stirred a few more times until everything had settled in, nodding to herself as the potion took on a glittery shine, sparkling under the light. Leaning over, she sniffed at it, wincing a little at the harsh smell. It wouldn’t do; it needed to smell as it looked. Glancing back towards the cupboard, she tried to mentally recall what she’d seen, and then picked up her wand from the table as she remembered two things.

“Accio,” she muttered, picturing a single ginger. Then, “Accio” again, this time recalling the cinnamon. Catching the two items as they came flying towards her, she put them on the table and grabbed her knife. Scaping a few thin slices from the ginger, she tossed that into her cauldron, followed by half a stick of cinnamon. Once more, she stirred it, hoping that her guess had been right and neither would truly affect the potency of the potion by too much.

This time, when she leant over, all she could smell was cinnamon and ginger with a hint of mint, a tea combination she’d first tried with a guy she’d dated on and off for a couple months after Irene. It wasn’t the nicest tea, but the fragrance was nice, and she smirked to herself as certain memories came flooding in. She’d almost forgotten how much fun she’d had with him.

Turning off the flame, she let it cool for a few minutes before raising her hand and waiting for the Professor to arrive. Motioning to the potion, she said, “I used a variety of ingredients, more than normal. I’m a complicated person, full of contradictions. I’m not simple, and my potion couldn’t be, either.”

Not needing to check a list — she hadn’t actually written it down — she waited for a moment for him to appear ready, and then moved on. “My base is armadillo bile. It's not too strong as to create something out of control in a person, but thick enough to sustain the other ingredients. I started with the basics of ashwinder eggs and rose thorns. I decided on those because the ashwinder egg represents fire, the passion of a romance — lust — and thorns instead of petals because I’m more feisty than sweet. I also chose this in case Zygmunt Budge is right; I don’t want anything long drawn. I’m more intrigued by unstable and quick relationships than anything long term. I added fire seeds for more of that fire you feel when you’re falling for someone new, and a bit of honeywater for the sweetness and to soothe a bit of the fire. There’s also death-cap in there, because infatuation and love can be toxic and deadly, and all my past loves have been just that — there’s also mistletoe berries, because love can heal, but also so that the potion isn’t deadly.”

She paused momentarily to collect her thoughts. “There’s pearl dust, because that’s the base ingredient, and I added crushed fairy wings to give it the shine and glitter — the sparkle of romance. For the bond, I decided against typical methods, and instead used two drops of my own blood; the potion is unique to me alone. I added cinnamon and ginger for the smell and taste, but also because those aren’t typical ‘romantic’ smells; they’re exotic and spicy and interesting, like I can be. Lastly, there’s a single peppermint leaf, to act as a bridle of sorts; mint, in real life, is an anti-aphrodisiac, and I wanted to put some sort of restraining ingredient so that the effects were curbed just a little.”

A light smirk was showing, now; she was proud of her efforts. “I call it ‘Aphrodeliac Elixir’. As most love potions, it creates a lustful intrigue and infatuation. The twist with this is that it’s bonded to only me; instead of the first person you see after drinking it, it will only take effect once the consumer sees me and me alone. Not only that, but thanks to the mint, it gives me some control over the user, with them wanting to listen to me. The desire it creates is not that of love; I’m not sure if there’s any potion out there that could create it. However, unlike other potions, it creates more of a firework explosion, meaning fast and bright, wanting to be with me but in a sexual way more so than a romantic way; it makes someone want me, not want me. This was on purpose.”

Delia lifted a shoulder in a semi-shrug, done with her explanation, and stood back, proud and tired, but also pleased with her efforts. One day she’d have to try and recreate it and test it to see if it really worked.

Last edited by Delia Foster on Sat Jan 13, 2018 6:06 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Sat Jan 13, 2018 5:49 am

His eyes moved through the room as people began to look around for their ingredients. Mycroft could not help but stare at the chaotic nature that came from with Ms. Foster. She grabbed the items so surely, yet he could not help but be amused at her wrong choices.

While he would have not chosen the same base, but she managed to balance it well, by creating that thicker base. Her measurement was nonexistent, but as he was called over, he was impressed by her logic behind her disorderly choices. She had a clear picture in her mind for creating the potion.

"I would have chosen a thinner base if you wanted to create lustful intrigue" he murmured as he leaned down to smell it. The smell was coppery but the density of the potion was good. He murmured a few notes to himself as the quill at his desk continued.

Once he was done he looked up and lifted his brow. "Good job Ms. Foster, you are free to go. Your grade will be sent via owl."

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PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Sun Jan 14, 2018 12:55 am

When the potion came her way, she looked curiously at her brother's example and couldn't help but breathe it in. Immediately she closed her eyes as very specific smells came her way. The first one was quite unique and she knew it was one of that she was not too fond of: whiskey. The toffee smell arose first within the whiskey smell only for the cedar to take over. She knew the whiskey smell well as it was her families' drink of choice. The next smell was far more pleasant: Christmas. Well not Christmas, but pinecones. She loved the warmth that was attached to it. The last tone was her absolute favorite: the smell of nature after rainfall. It was so distinctive and pleasant. Yet these confusing smells had nothing in common.

Shaking her head, she sent it to the other students and she figured she could start her potion. While others ran straight to thicker bases, she would start with a more neutral base. Her eyed ran through the options but the first one was clear; rose water and rose oil. Her use behind that was simple, she did not want an invasive and thicker potion for love; she wanted a pure love.

Grabbing the sharpest knife she began to cut into the Ashwinder Egg, as the water began to boil she allowed the egg to seep into the water making the water sizzle as the fire-y egg began to unfreeze. The smell of roses surrounded her and she took it in. She then took out the scale and measured moonstone, and pearl dust giving it the glitter into the potion. Once she was satisfied with the base, she knew it was time to create her unique potion.

She first began to add personal items: the first one was simple, a cut to her index finger allowed blood to fall within it. Since it was given with a consent it was an acceptance. She allowed the blood to touch her lips before the droplets fell and darkened the color. Blood was a promise; a union for her and as she muttered the small charm, it worked.

Next were doxy eggs, fairy wings, and and flying seahorses. She wanted an enduring love, one that withstood the test of time. She applied all her wishing within that potion and murmured love poems as she did so. She remembered reading about how druid witches would murmur their hatred in their dark potions, so in turn she brought forth a positivity through her core. As she began to mix the potions it turned a dark turquoise similar the reaction like the girding potion. Three more turns and the potion began to glow to the golden color.  It was beautiful, but the smell was repulsive.

Wrinkling her she knew she needed it to be covered. The last step to any love potion was the sweetness. A sweet love, a pure love, a genuine love. It was silly to actually create  true love from a love potion, but she wanted a promise of sorts. Soft smells, soft scents made it complete. She started with the same base: rose petals, lilies, some honey for taste. Slowly but surely the smell rose into a sweet rose tea. Slowly she slipped the ladle into the golden colored potion and placed it in the large phial.

She signaled Mycroft to come over as her potion was done.

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PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Sun Jan 14, 2018 8:26 am

Ah his sister. His little fireball was clearly annoyed during the lesson, but surprisingly did not apply much to creating drama, instead she concentrated on the love potion. He was surprised when she picked the base; he would not have picked such a thin liquid to begin any potion, yet she was confident about it. Slowly she began her potion and he watched her and grew worried as the blood was added to the potion. It was a bit frightening to see the madness in her movements.

The cutting of the egg was brilliant and something he actually had never thought of doing, but it diluted and embedded into the potion quicker. He supposed that she was her own little potioneer. Though when she was done, he moved forward to properly inspect it.

"Hm...the base is a bit too thin, I would have used a thicker more base level liquid to start." he commented. "And rather than Doxy I would have used mistletoe. Good. You may leave."

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Clara Goldstein
Hogwarts Head Girl
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PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Sun Jan 14, 2018 8:49 pm

Clara accepted the Amortentia and raised it to her nose. She'd encountered this in her third year, on Professor Balan's final exam. The scent hadn't changed since then, and she inhaled a comforting mixture of old books, pencil graphite, her aunt's freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, her mother's hand lotion, and pine smoke. After one deep breath, she passed it on with a slight smile.

When the assignment was announced, Clara's initial reaction was one of excitement. And then she stopped to think about it for a moment.

Clara was faced with a slight dilemma. In theory, she loved the opportunity to be creative and concoct her own potions. With any other potion, she would have thrived in such an environment. But love potions...she found herself drawing a blank. The "nature of her love"? She had no idea what that might be.

In fact, she very rarely thought about love at all. Romance was something that happened to other people. She was aware of it, sure, but it never really occurred to her as something to consider for herself. She'd never experienced that kind of love, and she never intended to. People just...didn't interest her in that way. It was strange, really, to suddenly come to that conclusion at the age of fifteen in the middle of potions class, but it didn't really surprise her. It was just something she guessed she'd always known, so she'd never given it much thought.

It was rather inconvenient though, when it came to making her own love potion. As the new girl had stated, love potions created physical desire and lust for a person, and were specifically intended for romantic and sexual purposes. And, as the new girl had also mentioned, the small portion of the population who identified as asexual--of which Clara realized she probably was one--seemed to be the exception when it came to understanding this intended purpose. So how could she create a love potion that reflected her kind of love, when she didn't experience the kind of love provided by a love potion? It was indeed a conundrum, and one that had her stumped for a good minute or so as she stared critically at her empty cauldron.

Well, she had to do something. She wasn't about to pass up this opportunity to get creative. She took a deep breath, then pulled out a notebook and a pen--muggle ones, as they were much more practical than quills and parchment--and flipped to the section of her textbook on love potions. Scanning the different varieties listed, she searched for patterns. What made a love potion a love potion? Pearl dust, for one thing. That was in all of them, so she jotted it down as an essential base ingredient. Ashwinder eggs were also a common theme, as was powdered moonstone. Some part of a rose was generally used, usually the thorns, though she remembered reading that Zygmunt Budge preferred the petals, as they were more reliable. Then there was peppermint, or some equivalent, and lastly some sort of bonding agent--at least for the stronger potions--which was usually some sort of DNA.

The base was generally some kind of water. She saw rose water, but it seemed too...frilly, for her tastes. Plain, distilled water would be perfectly suitable. It was a blank slate, and to her, would symbolize purity. Filling her cauldron halfway with distilled water, she set it over a low flame, and moved on to her other ingredients.

What exactly was she aiming for? Not sexual love, not romance, not infatuation. It seemed impossible to create a love potion that went against the very idea of a love potion. And yet...perhaps it could be done. The new girl had said that the reason potions couldn't recreate love was because people couldn't define it. So Clara simply had to define what love meant to her, and work from there.

Just because she wasn't attracted to anyone, that didn't mean she couldn't love. She loved her family, she loved science, she loved books. She supposed her love of her family would be the easiest to work with. Her version of love wasn't characterized by physical attraction, or desire, or passion. It was the kind of unwavering, unconditional, selfless love that she felt toward the people who were important to her. This love was characterized by trust, sacrifice, dedication, constancy...how could she represent that in a potion?

Struck with an idea, she reached into her bag and pulled out a book on flower meanings that she'd gotten from the library. Potions, she knew, were largely symbolic--something the literary side of her appreciated, as she was good with metaphors. She'd checked out the book less than a week before, simply because it seemed interesting, but now she thought it might help her.

Flipping to the index, she searched for key words. Anything to do with family, platonic affection, security, selflessness, and trust. She quickly flipped back and forth, taking note of suitable ingredients, then flipped through the brewing instructions for love potions and formulated a plan. In her notebook, she organized her ideas, copying the directions with clear patterns and making substitutions as necessary.

Finally, she looked up and saw that her water was lightly simmering. Working quickly, she went first to the table, then to the stockroom, and gathered her ingredients. When she returned to her table, she laid everything out and referred to step one in her notes.

Her process most closely imitated the instructions for Amortentia, but the substitutions would hopefully produce a very different effect. She turned the heat down on her water slightly, and added three teaspoons of pearl dust, stirring anticlockwise after each one. Then she added six blue hyacinth flowers to her mortar, crushing them with the pestle before sprinkling them into the warm water. Traditionally, love potions used peppermint, but she used blue hyacinth to symbolize constancy and stability.

Next she selected three sunflower petals, for dedication, three freesias, for trust, and three holly leaves, for domestic happiness. Three was a number traditionally associated with magic, and it symbolized the connection between herself, her mother, and her father. The same kind of commitment was required from each participant, after all. She added each component directly to the cauldron without stirring, waiting a full minute between each one to let them soak.

Next, three tablespoons of powdered moonstone, stirring three times anticlockwise after each. The potion began to shimmer, taking on a pale silvery sheen with a rosy orange tint. It smelled sweet, like perfume, but she wasn't done yet.

While the potion was still swirling, she gathered six yellow rose petals that she'd taken from the table, and added them in, turning up the heat slightly. Using Zygmunt Budge's reasoning, she went with petals because they were less fleeting, and yellow, because it was less romantic. The only colour of rose, according to her book, that symbolized completely platonic affection.

She waited as the concoction simmered slowly. At three minutes, she stirred it anticlockwise seven times, and as she did so, added a flax flower, to symbolize the home, a sprig of Queen Anne's lace, to represent sanctuary, and finally, a sprinkle of English moss, for maternal love and charity.

As she let it sit for another minute, she debated her next move. Ashwinder eggs were common in love potions--they added passion and fire. She wondered if it would still count as a love potion if she forewent that step. When the minute was up, she made up her mind. She didn't want that kind of potion. She left the eggs on the table, and went straight to her next step.

A tablespoon of powdered unicorn horn, to symbolize selflessness. One stir, clockwise. Three drops of dragon's blood, to represent sacrifice. Three stirs, anticlockwise.

She took a small knife from her table, and deftly cut three strands of hair from her head before dropping them in the potion. The bonds of blood--a sample of DNA that connected her, biologically, to her family. The potion bubbled, changing to a warm golden colour that glimmered softly up at her. She turned the heat off completely. The steam the drifted from the cauldron smelled...comforting. Like fresh linen and warm tea. Like home. It was perfect.

A proud smile spread slowly across her face. She'd done the impossible. She'd created a love potion that wasn't about infatuation, or even attraction, but about the basic principles of lasting love. She had no idea if it actually worked, or even what it did, but it was exactly what she'd wanted, and as far she was concerned, it was a success.

She neatly wrote down all of her explanations beside each step in the process detailed in her notebook, crossing out the Ashwinder eggs (which had been listed with a question mark from the start), and sliding the open notebook to the front of her desk. She raised her hand.

When the professor approached, she watched him inspect her potion for a moment, and then said with confidence, "It's called Essence of Storge."

Storge, of the many Greek words for love, specified familial love. Unlike Eros, which was sexual love, it was not passionate or physical. It was simply there--constant and unconditional. Just as it should be.

"It's not a traditional love potion, because I don't...experience the kind of love that those entail. I've never wanted or needed romance, or felt any kind of physical desire for another person. Instead, I focused on something with a deeper meaning to me. I wanted to capture my love for my family.

"I started with pure, distilled water, to signify the purity of a familial relationship. I added pearl dust and moonstone as part of the base, to clarify that it is, indeed, a love potion. I also added rose petals, for that same reason, but I used yellow roses to symbolize platonic affection, rather than romance. I replaced the traditional peppermint with blue hyacinth, to represent constancy, and I added sunflower to symbolize dedication, freesia to represent trust, and holly to symbolize domestic happiness. I used three of each, to represent the bond between myself and my two parents.

"After that, I added one flax flower and one sprig of Queen Anne's lace to represent home and sanctuary, and a pinch of moss to symbolize maternal love. Instead of Ashwinder eggs to represent passion, I used powdered unicorn horn, to represent selflessness and purity. Then I added three drops of dragon's blood to symbolize sacrifice--three, once again, for the three way bond. Lastly, I added three strands of my own hair, to represent the biological connection between myself and my parents."

She gestured to her notebook, which went into greater detail, just in case he wanted to see it. For a moment, she was worried he wouldn't consider it a real love potion. But then she realized, she honestly didn't care if she got a good grade for this. She was proud of her work, and that was all that really mattered to her.


Clara Goldstein || 14 || Ravenclaw || Scientist

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PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Tue Jan 16, 2018 5:09 am

As his sister left, the next person who seemed to have created plan was Miss Goldstein. It was interesting to him that she used such a plain base to start her potion. She started with a neutralized water, he would have added an oil of sorts to start, but he let her be. Her potion was more about symbolism for as each ingredient was added, most of them were herb related.

While he was never a fan of using flowers, he did note that she had thought them out. He actually was impressed by the way she methodically went about her actions, and in fact was the only one that returned to the assigned reading.

As he was signaled to come over, he looked dipped the ladle down into the potion before letting the potion fall back into the cauldron. He inspected the smell; the perfume of the flowers masked the potion very well. And when she explained her reasoning he nodded.

"I would have added some oil in the beginning to create a smoother blend and would have masked the smells. But good job Miss Goldstein, you may leave. Your grade will be sent via owl.

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Elenore Clement
Hufflepuff Seventh Year
Hufflepuff Seventh Year

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Location : Versailles, France

PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Sat Jan 20, 2018 6:47 pm

Elenore had sat quietly through the lesson, having seen the subject of the lesson her eyes had widened for a moment, before they were down cast to the desk. Mycroft Holmes had decided to pick a subject such as this? The young witch didn’t believe the Holmes heir would have chosen such a topic, and after the summer, in which she had failed to obtain more than a letter from Mycroft Holmes denoting he did not wish to marry into the family, this whole lesson had become mortifying.

Which was only made worse when Tess took up the seat beside her.

Whispering a soft ‘good morning’ back to her friend and then nodding at the question, Elenore didn’t offer up anything more to the conversation. She didn’t think she could face a conversation when the topic loomed so heavily over the youngest Clement. Thankful that this was not a lesson where conversation could be afforded, Elenore simply looked over her book until the lesson began. Questions made themselves known on the board, and Elenore’s eyes flashed up to the board in that moment. Her mind worked through the answers as she moved to write them down, instead of answering, but her answers were the same as those given.

There was, after all, no such thing as a true love potion, only an imitation of love.

Mycroft’s voice came back across the top of the room, and Elenore’s attention moved back to her notes, not daring to look at him when he spoke, but taking every word in as he did. They were to create their own potion, their own love potion. A feat of impossible nature, after all, what was love? There were so many different definitions of love, and even fewer types that Elenore truly believed in.

The young witch could feel the oddly familiar feeling of uncertainty that swept through her at the mention of love. The idea of trying to define it, and the idea of her own type of love.

Mycroft’s words were beginning to wash over her, becoming a muddle of words she could no longer comprehend…

It was the agonising sound of multiple stools being pushed away from the table as her classmates got up from their desks to move to the stores that Elenore came back to her senses in that moment. Not wishing to look like she was stumped with the idea, Elenore stood carefully from her seat and readied her cauldron, opening her textbook to the Amortentia potion. Reading through the recipe, Elenore took a moment to steady herself.

” For today's lesson, I offer you creativity. I want you to create a love potion not just based on your assigned reading, but rather the nature of your love.”

Elenore’s mind moved to the romantic types of love first. The kind of love she’d seen between her parents, the kind of love that was unshakable… perfect… without any hardship and seemingly without any kind of problems. She thought to the love of which she’d read about in the copious amount of books Grandmere had brought to her, showing how her life would be when she found a suitable husband. Love was supposed to be a very big, and very grand adventure. Love conquered all, the books claimed, but… Elenore didn’t know that kind of love.

Her second thought went to familial love, many people would know love from a mother and father, perhaps a sibling, but Elenore’s mind did not go there. Elenore’s mind instead went to her Grandmere. Ever present, ever helpful, ever loving Grandmere. A smile touched Elenore’s lips in that moment, of course, if ever she needed an answer it would be Grandmere who could bring it to her.

After all, Professor Holmes had not asked them to create a romantic love potion, just a love potion.

Moving to the store cupboard, Elenore picked out the potions she believed she would need, taking her time to pick the better quality ingredients that were available to them there. Moving back to her desk, Elenore lined out the ingredients carefully, before pulling her hair back in a loose ponytail to keep it out of the way whilst she worked. Letting out one slightly shaky breath, Elenore proceeded with the potion.

The base the Hufflepuff had chosen was a simple clear base potion, there was nothing of note here. Elenore’s reasoning behind that had to be to ensure that nothing was taken away from the ingredients she was going to add in a few moments. Allowing the base to slowly boil through, Elenore turned her attention to the key ingredient she would be adding to the potion.

The Fleur de Lis was a fragrance her Grandmere had always worn. It was the simple of the Clement house, of France, and the flower was one that Elenore had a particular affinity to herself. The Fleur de Lis was the smell that reminded Elenore of one thing, and one thing only, home. Grandmere’s withdrawing room always had lilies present, and this one could not compare, still, Elenore carefully cut the stamens away from the flower, and brought them over the boiling base. Crumbling them between her fingers, Elenore watched the burnt orange particles swirl down in to the base, turning it slowly orange as they touched the liquid.

Elenore turned back to the petals, shredding them with a knife, and then gently placing them on top of the base. Watching the mixture nervously, the young French witch watched the petals slowly disintegrate in the heat of the mixture. There wasn’t very much to go with here, so Elenore allowed the base to simmer, until, after five minutes or so, the mixture was emitting the smell that was so, so, so very familiar to Elenore. It was almost – and, Elenore had to take a moment not to kid herself – almost as potent as Grandmere’s perfume, but not quite.

Looking back down at her potions textbook, Elenore took to following the recipe for Amortentia in that moment. First, the Ashwinder egg was added to the base, and given a few moments to simmer in the mixture. Then came the handful of rose thorns – though the recipe said a handful, Elenore decided to go with something more apt. A measurement. Counting out thirty of the rose thorns, the French witch added them one at a time, waiting until the potion changed colour to something of a red before she was happy with this much.

Next was the peppermint oil, the recipe denoted five teaspoons of the refined oil should be added to the mixture, and Elenore did exactly that, making sure to measure the spoons out carefully – and not over the potion in case she made a spillage. The potion hissed at the cool liquid as it added, but after each of the spoons had been added in to the mixture, the potion turned to a cool mint colour instead.

Finally, the moonstone. The weight given was measured out with due care, Elenore ensuring that she was not a gram out as she did so before she placed the stone in to the cauldron.

Taking up the ladle, Elenore stirred the mixture well – slowly, carefully, but thoroughly in a clockwise motion – watching the mixture turn white in colour as she did so. The steam started to rise from the cauldron, but Elenore was not quite finished.

Turning to the final ingredient – this one hadn’t been in the stores, Elenore had to be thankful for the package that had arrived that morning – Elenore took out two of the French truffles Grandmere had sent in the care package she’d sent for the week. The chocolate dusted sweets were one of many sweets that Grandmere always had in abundance, and Elenore contemplated them for a moment.

Dropping one in to the mixture, the smell of chocolate infused with the mixture, and Elenore couldn’t help but smile to herself as she brought the second to her lips. A soft kiss was left upon the chocolate before she dropped it in to the mixture.

The potion gave a soft fizzling sound once more as Elenore stirred the mixture, and then, finally, she was done.

Leaning over the potion, the smell made Elenore smile. It smelled, to her, just like Grandmere’s withdrawing room did. Of the only woman Elenore knew, without hesitation, loved her. The potion would, if Elenore had gotten this right, make the drinker feel as if they were loved, in a familial way.

Looking up to Mycroft, Elenore waited for his face to turn in her direction, and subtly asked him to come over. She had no explanation to offer him, because she hoped the potion would explain itself when he drank it, so she stood quietly awaiting his assessment of the potion that she had made.

OOC: Ang, as agreed, please can you have Mycroft comment on this being a ‘good attempt, but very superficial’. And, that whilst it ‘looks strong, is very insubstantial’. Finally, if Myce could add that she should think of a more genuine source as her inspiration, and think of someone who loves her whilst brewing next time, she would be more successful. You can include this in your letter, if you’d prefer Mycroft not to say this to her face, for IC reasons.

Also, you can go with your own wording for my parts in ‘ ‘, I’m just trying to aid you with what I’m trying to get to with my plot.

Also, thank you for agreeing to break my baby just that little bit more <3


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~ Ambitious ~ 17 ~ Slim ~ 5'6" ~ Athletic ~

Thank you to the amazing Kiera for my signature <3
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PostSubject: Re: Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed   Sun Jan 21, 2018 5:11 am

If Mycroft was honest with himself, he was surprised that Elenore seemed to be the last student in his class. For one thing, he assumed she had a good foundation in potions, at least in previous lessons her grades were above average.

But the moment she began her potion, he frowned. Her base, was too thin, he knew that his sister had made that mistake at first. Still, he knew that she would add more ingredients to hopefully thicken it. Her skills were admirable, and above average but once more, there was nothing particularly bonding from her potion work. The chocolate was the part that he forced himself not to interrupt.

It was the moment she was done, he walked over and frowned taking the potion in. As he dipped the ladle in the potion he frowned realizing that while it smelled pleasant it...

"Miss Clement, this is a good attempt. The potion is a little too thin, a thickener would have helped. You may leave, you will receive your grade via owl"

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Potions Lesson 1: (Years 5-7) - Closed
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