Lesson 4- N.E.W.T. Level

Another quick look in his potions kit told him he’d be off to Hogsmeade soon. That would be fabulous. Negotiating prices was just what he needed to do mid-November. Christmas was something his mother would tell him to think about soon. It would be time to do a few odd jobs to scrape some money together for presents. Either that or he’d go and raid Fenrir’s vault again like he did in May the year prior. The dog hadn’t noticed either which suited Ariel fine. The Goblins were too wary of the Greyback’s to want to butt heads with the eldest. Ariel was sure his father had done something goblin-related that hadn’t sat well with them. But as long as they let Ariel into the vault, he didn’t pay their discomfort any mind.

Of course, he’d need to make sure he knew how much he needed. He could pilfer some money from Richard’s account too and although that would be a Muggle vault, it would be no more difficult to collect. Then of course he’d send the bank statements to the prison and see what the letters back would be. Antagonising this man was getting all too easy so Ariel was attacking him from all angles. Putting him in prison wasn’t enough at all. Now Ariel stole his money and made sure that his mother was turning against her husband. There were only so many malicious letters depicting her darling boy as the Devil that one woman could get.

It was a bizarre thing, getting something from someone else. As selfish as Ariel was he was incredibly able. He didn’t like to take from others if he knew he could produce the same thing. That didn’t work where the money was concerned – that was a necessity – but little things did make him slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the please and thank-you bit. No, he was fine with that. He just didn’t want to feel dependant. Oh no, of course he didn’t. He was his own man; he could stand on two feet or four paws and still be able to look after himself.

Ariel picked up the jar and unscrewed the lid. He put the lid on the table and plucked out the necessary amount of Peppermint from the jar. He placed it carefully on top of the chopping board that the top of his potions kit doubled as and lifted the lid up again. Ariel liked to streamline his potions, use as little yet keep it as potent as possible. It was just a way to keep himself involved and awake. Amortentia wasn’t something he’d streamlined before. He saw no need to do so as he wouldn’t be using it. Wolfsbane was one of the ones he tried to cut down as much as possible.

Ariel swallowed and screwed the lid of the jar back onto its body. “Thank you.” Ariel said, the words coming out in a murmur. He held out the jar out to Amelia. “I don’t think I will need all of this. Will you be wanting the scrag ends?”

She seemed distant. Good. Ariel didn’t feel any need to have a long conversation with her. It wasn’t personal, though. He didn’t want to speak to anyone for very long. Conversation was tedious and having friends was hard work. Keeping up with them was excruciatingly difficult. Being constantly ‘fun’ made one incredibly tired with the facade incredibly fast, too. It was for that reason that Ariel didn’t have friends. Not only would he be a poor friend, not exactly caring about those around him unless they owed him something and/or could supply him with something, but he’d probably stab them in the back quicker than they could him. So, in the long run, it was probably better he was a self-involved recluse. It was harder to be self-involved if you had to be worried about what someone else was doing with their little life.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you smell parchment when you’re around this beastly stuff,” Ariel said with a half-smirk, one lacking any maliciousness. He was simply teasing. A friendly teasing almost but it still had an undertone that reminded Amelia not to get too used to him being agreeable. “Parchment and perhaps something fresh like country air; then a perfume maybe. No, that’s unlikely. Old libraries, perhaps? Clue me in. It’s always interesting to know what someone else smells when they’re around Amortentia. It’s that age-old game of “If you show me yours I’ll show you mine” or whichever way ‘round it goes. In this case it’s lacking genitals and is more about the foreplay. Well, pre-foreplay I suppose. Sort of like first date flirting that’s starting to get a bit risqué.”

''I don't smell books people, I don't smell book! That, of course, means that you are still not close to completing your little task. I presume you did have enough time to start, which is why I should be able to smell something resembling books very soon'', Doyle said. He looked around the classroom. Some of them were working, some of them were slow, but one of them was exceptionally annoying.

He jumped of his desk and started limping around the classroom. Slowly and carefully. This was the first time this year that he had stood up from his desk and limped around the classroom. He never had the need, though - his eyesight was, like his hearing, excellent. He walked around to the table where Amelia had been working with that annoying boy. He limped behind them and bent over positioning his head between the two. He looked at Amelia, then at the boy, then at her again. After looking at her for a few seconds, he turned to the boy again.

''I presume lad, that you have now borrowed what you should have had in the first place, which, actually, means that you should keep quiet and stop harassing your colleague, who is, by the way, trying to do some excellent work with some very interesting, but outstanding, methods. I must praise that'', he said. He than took his cane and hit the desk with it, making a loud bang in the process. ''Now, boy, you have a free desk down there. Pack and move so that your colleague can continue her work. If you need anything, ask me and stop harassing people around you. I know you're a Slytherin and a Greyback, but trust me, I couldn't care less even if you were Voldemort himself. Also, 10 points from Slytherin. Miss Lyons, I apologize for my interruption, but I do hope you will be able to work from this point on'', Doyle said. He then started liming back to the desk. ''The rest of you, who are now staring at my rear imagining that I can't see that, get back to work!'', Doyle said, jumping on top of his desk again.

Jack had zoned out, mid-gathering her ingredients and she shook her head. It was happening more and more often now. She had the tournament to worry about, Wheezes to consider, Quidditch to speculate over, Potter's Army to plan for. And then the little things like wondering why her cousin and brother had not written to her or what Vito was up to or things of that pestering manner.

But Jack had a job to do now, here and now. Nothing from the looming future should matter, and she would do well to forget about the past. She checked her cauldron to make sure it was lit and began cutting up ingredients, doing this and that to get ready for the potion. She saw someone bothering Amelia and smirked. Amelia must have been close to punching the kid. Doyle, jealous someone was crowding his favorite, intervened and Jack turned back to the task at hand.

After dumped the first few ingredients into her cauldron she hefted her stirring rod and began to stir, though the color she kept coming out with was too dark for what it was supposed to be. Jack expected this. It was to be expected that her worst potion of the year would be the love potion. Frustrated, she added some ginger though the recipe did not call for it at that time, remembering that it counteracted the effects of too much of some of the others. The potion lightened up a bit and she continued, knowing she had a challenge ahead of her.

Books; that was interesting.

Well, Fenrir did teach Ariel that ‘valuable pieces of information were everywhere’. That was the first and last thing Fenrir ever taught his son and it was still relevant. Even now when the man was somewhere else, no doubt hiding in a bush, Ariel understood how useful the words were. Everything could be reused, information in particular was always useful and it was, as Fenrir had said, everywhere. The professor could easily have been lying but Ariel didn’t think so somehow. But it was because he could have been that Ariel brushed it off, deciding to continue setting everything up.

The potion wouldn’t take that long to brew but because of his lateness he could have potentially go overtime. Ariel flicked his wand, lighting the fire underneath the cauldron.

Ariel looked up when the Professor decided to quite abruptly invade his personal space. Ariel straightened himself up, putting distance between himself and the odd man. Ariel quirked a blonde eyebrow at the Professor and glanced at Amelia. He pressed his lips together before sighing dramatically.

Ariel flinched ever so slightly when the Professor’s cane collided with the desk. The sound was particularly unpleasant, reminiscent of when he opened the pots and pans cupboard at home, only to have them fall out onto the floor. This sound was different, more short and sharp, but it was the same principle, loud and to the point. Ariel’s eyebrows shot to his hairline but they quickly lowered as a lazy smirk crept onto his face.

“Of course Professor,” he complied, his tone sickly sweet. Ariel waved his wand and the items on his desk rose. He sent them over to the desk he was allocated and he picked his bag up. “Although, I truly doubt my parentage matters in a class that teaches potions. If it were a class of science then maybe, but a love potion, Amortentia in particular, has very little to do with Fenrir Greyback or my mother. How...unprofessional of you. Shouldn’t you be basing opinions of your students on their actions and words not on their parents?” Ariel smirked.

Then, without saying anything else, Ariel turned and walked to the desk his cauldron was heating up on. He threw his bag down onto the chair beside his own and took one of the knives out of his potions kid. He spilled some of the ingredients onto the chopping board and began to slice, dice and chop up the ingredients. He threw a handful into the cauldron and he dropped his stirring rod in, flicking his wand at the same time. The glass rod turned clockwise four times before stopping and resting against the side of the cauldron, prompting Ariel to open his bag in search of his book which held his notes on the potion, what he wanted to change about it and how he wanted to cut the time in half.

The professor seemed to think Ariel was harassing Amelia a fair bit. Clearly the man didn’t know what harassing was on Ariel’s terms. The Slytherin smirked. Someone was incredibly possessive of their star pupil it seemed How... disturbing yet oddly sweet. Sickly sweet, even. Ariel suppressed a shudder and retrieved his book from his bag. He dropped the dog-eared thing that resembled nearly every other school book of his on the table. It fell open at the Love potions and his cursive greeted him. How very apt.

No sooner had Ariel taken the jar from her fingers did Amelia turn back to her work, plucking off the last of the starthistle, grinding it into powder with her mortar and pestle, and dumping it into the already boiling water in her cauldron. To that, she added some finely chopped goosegrass, and as an additional ingredient suggested by Arthur, a bit of butterscotch. Amelia hadn’t originally seen the purpose of the butterscotch in the potion, because she had never in her life smelled butterscotch around amortentia or even heard of it as an ingredient, but Arthur had assured her it was useful and so into the cauldron it went.

Turning back to her book, Amelia went to look for the next ingredient when Ariel caught her attention again by extending the slightly emptier peppermint jar back to her. The words of thanks were relatively unexpected, but Amelia nodded in response to them anyway. She hadn’t realized that Ariel possessed such social graces – she herself forgot them at times, though never within earshot of her mother – but she was not disappointed to find out that he did. Perhaps it would help to balance out some of the character flaws he seemed to possess.

“No thank you,” Amelia responded to his question about the scrag ends, turning away from Ariel as she put the jar back in its proper place within her kit. Her ingredients, although they had been used and refilled many, many times now, were still in their original alphabetical ordered arrangement, and peppermint fit nicely between panko bread crumbs and puffer fish.

Turning to her potion, Amelia stirred the liquid, which was turning a robin egg’s blue color, as was indicative of this stage of the potion. Content with her progress thus far, Amelia was reaching for the Honeywater from her kit when Ariel once again intruded upon her focus. Amelia was beginning to come to the brink of asking the boy just what made her special enough that he should show an interest in her beyond that of making a mockery of her, but she held her tongue while he spoke. He seemed to be making a game of guessing what amortentia would smell like to her, and Amelia wasn’t at all surprised to find that he was superficial enough to think she would smell parchment.

Oh ha, ha, the smart girl smells parchment, Amelia thought to herself, barely suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at him, but stopping herself to avoid the scene that he might make if he saw.

His next few guesses were equally inadequate, but he did get close to guessing the scent of books, which had always been a prominent aroma in the profile Amelia smelled around amortentia. This wasn’t a particularly insightful guess, however, at least in Amelia’s mind; it was similar to the guess of parchment, going of her superficial personality rather than anything deeper. This was unsurprising, as she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details of her personality, nor did she wear her heart on her sleeve.

It seemed Ariel had grown tired of guessing now, though, and was proposing a trade: what she smelled for what he did. He was a smooth talker, even in his use of the word “genitals”, but Amelia, rather than being wooed, was instead raising an eyebrow at Ariel as though to question whether or not he was actually serious. Was he, a boy who had never said two words to her and basically verbally accosted just about everyone else at every chance he got, really asking her to reveal a piece of personal information? And trying to be flirtatious about it?

Amelia’s gut instinct was to lie. If she lied, she could find out what Ariel smelled around amortentia without actually revealing anything of herself. But then what incentive did he have to tell the truth? He could lie outright to her and she would have no way of knowing if it was the truth. In fact, that was probably an alley he had already considered.

But before Amelia could come to a decision on whether or not she ought to engage in Ariel’s banter – despite her better judgment. She really ought to have been working on potions, and likely would have told him off out of annoyance if he hadn’t piqued her interest – Amelia heard the headmaster shouting about the lack of progress he was seeing in the classroom, which brought her back to the current situation soon enough to maintain her composure when the professor appeared between herself and the blond boy who had been so forward in his line of inquiry. The headmaster, as per usual, managed to say something that was simultaneously flattering and embarrassing to Amelia, who immediately turned pink. Ariel’s smirk came directly at her, and though he could have meant it differently, Amelia took this as a response to what Doyle had said about her, and so she immediately averted her eyes. She was looking away as Ariel commented on Doyle’s rather blatant prejudice against him because of his parentage, and though she was sorely tempted to look up to see the headmaster’s reaction, she kept her eyes on the table.

It seemed like a bit of a double standard, even from Doyle, but Amelia wasn’t exactly complaining. She could have gotten in a lot of trouble for being distracted in class, and she would have had a hard time arguing that she didn’t deserve it. It was just that Ariel was one of the few people Amelia had never really bothered to give much thought because she had never had to deal with him directly. Yes, she had observed him from time to time, but the few pieces of information she had gathered had never encouraged her to look harder: he had seemed like an open and shut case. So why had he been so successfully distracting to her in class today?

It seemed that her prior success in the class had saved her, though, and Amelia was in no hurry to do away with that “get out of jail free” card, even if it wasn’t a particularly fair one, and so she kept her eyes averted as Ariel moved his things and himself to the other table across the room. When she could tell that her table space was now Ariel-free, she began busying herself with her potion making, adding the honeywater she had been going for before Ariel had interrupted her for the third time and then dicing and skinning the next two ingredients, which she added to the cauldron as well. A few stirs around made the steam rising from the liquid start to take on the characteristic spiral shapes, and Amelia was momentarily pleased enough with her potion that as she went to look for the last few ingredients, she caught herself looking over to Ariel’s table, her mind still hung on the question he had asked her, and what he might have said if she had answered his bargaining question. But the glance only lasted a few seconds as Amelia physically shook the thought from her mind and returned her focus to the book in front of her and the last two things she had written at the bottom of the page.

They seem to have listened. The students were now working, he started to smell something that should become the smell of books in some time. Amelioration was undoubtedly present and he was, both satisfied and glad, to see that progress. He always preferred newts over owls, they were communicative, they knew more and he could do advanced and interesting stuff with them all. But, the interesting thing was that, although he wasn't the type to bond or anything similar, he was happy that they were improving, which was odd for a person like him. Of course, he kept it to himself.

''Sparrow! Have you begun preparing for the Tournament? I know you're in Wilson's house, but you're representing my school and I expect only the best! I am sure you will need more information in our main subjects, which is why I would, friendly and unbiased of course, advise you to go see Wilson, McCoy, Delacour and myself for that extra information. Although we aren't allowed to reveal the tasks, we can give you a better insight on what you are going to face and what you should be concentrating on. But, of course, this is not obligatory, but do beware that I will kick you back to first year myself if you fail'', Doyle said, interrupting the class. He like interrupting people with such digressions, but it wasn't because he was malicious, it was rather because he wanted to see how they worked under distraction. It was, like most things conserning him, a test.

He then turned to Ariel. ''You are one of those smart types, right? Of course Amortentia hasn't anything to do with your genealogy, you idiot! And neither does this class as a whole. I do base my opinion mainly on deduction and observation, and my experience, which is longer than you could imagine, has taught me how people behave. Also, your incessant questioning and obvious distracting of your colleague is not something that will benefit my opinion. You want justice? You want fair? That is something you have to earn. I am not an egalitarian and you won't see that kind of attitude in this class. Everything, from respect to justice, must be earned. You could say I am meritocratic, but I am just careful when dealing with people. Like that smile of yours, for instance. You think you've won? Achieved something? You're wrong! Although your current stream of consciousness may be directed to one particular colleague of yours, your perception of the situation and her is something you should double check. Your perception of me is infantile, as is expected, but that I won't even try to change. But your perception of your colleague ought to be changed and you should be very careful. I am the Headmaster and my duty is to protect the students from any harm, even if it comes from the dormitories in the Dungeons and even if it does not include any form of physical contact. Your words have shown how you think, your actions have shown how you function. For someone intelligent, that is enough; for someone stupid, it will never be enough'', Doyle explained, calmly.

Although the headmaster was still moving about the room, talking to students here and there about this, that, and the other thing, Amelia had deduced that he was no longer talking to her, and thus she was free to focus on her work. As Professor Doyle had already presented himself as a man of diversion, Amelia had quickly trained herself to know when she needed to pay attention to what he was saying and when she could focus on other things. At times, he made it painfully obvious that he wanted her attention - smacking the desk with his cane, for example - and other times he was more subtle, but Amelia had picked up the art quickly, which is why she knew now was a safe time to finish up her work on the love potion that was still brewing away beside her.

The last two ingredients that Amelia had written in at the bottom were two she had never used in potion making before. She had been hesitant to accept them as legitimate ingredients when Arthur had mentioned them, not because she thought Arthur ill-willed toward her potions endeavors or unfit for his job as a potions researcher, but rather because Amelia wasn't much for going against what was written in a textbook. It was written there by a professional, and then chosen by another professional for instruction in his classroom. How could it not be right?

But against this logic, Amelia had worked over the idea and come to another conclusion, equally logical and thus a sensible alternative: although she had never used these ingredients before, that did not make them poor choices. At one point, someone had probably never heard of boomslang skin or lacewing flies as potions ingredients, but because someone had tried them and found them useful, they were now available for purchase at nearly every apothecary.

With this resolving thought in mind, Amelia reached into the bottom of her kit where she had placed the additional ingredients. She had had to make a special trip to the greenhouses - she no longer took herbology, so she wasn't there on a regular basis - and one to the kitchens to get the ingredients, and then she had packed them with the knowledge that they would be working on amortentia today.

Unwrapping a small, homemade envelope of stiff brown paper, Amelia removed two holly sprigs and dropped them into the cauldron, stirring twice and then reaching for the other and final ingredient. From a jar she poured an amber colored liquid straight into the cauldron. It was apple cider.

Although Amelia was nervous that Arthur' s ideas would fail her, she nonetheless resolved herself to watch the potion as she stirred six times clockwise, twice counterclockwise, and then made one last, slow spiral from the center of the cauldron outward, and just as she finished the last curved stroke, the liquid in her cauldron took on a mother-of-pearl sheen and sprouted a cacophony of spirally mist.

And Amelia smelled peppermint.

''Books? Do I smell books? Now, who is to blame?'', Doyle stretched his neck and looked around, suspiciously. He observed very carefully, tracing the source of the scent he had caught. After eliminating some obvious idiots, he stopped on Amelia. Staying calm for a few moments, Doyle jumped of his desk and limped to the opposite side of her desk, smelling her potion. And truly, those were books! New, old... it did not matter, but what mattered is that he smelled books. Books!

''And it is done, Miss Lyons. A big nice O for you and 50 points for Ravenclaw. Brewed in time and correctly. what else can I say? But, I do have to praise your work, not just because you have shown your capacity at making Potions, but also for you choice of... assistance, or help, I do not know, label it as you wish, but your choice of help, and I think I can presume who helped you, is likewise intelligent and wise, and I do not tend to refer to those terms as equal. That assistance is, I hope, something you will be relying on in the future, not just in my classes, but also in real life, because they can, truly, help you and improve your potion making skills. Brilliant work!'', he said, with a high tone. ''Now, as for the rest of you slack offs, whoever manages to fail, will have a nice ten-page homework for tomorrow! Continue with your work!'', he ordered.

Jack heard the professor go off on another tangent and listened with half a mind while she continued on her business with the other part. She was rather accomplished about multi-tasking but was finding the potion more meticulous than her sloppy style called for, and she decided she did not need to listen to Doyle coo and swoon over Amelia. It was sort of creepy anyway, so she found it would be better to just focus on this ridiculous, badly-intended potion.

Jack followed the instructions and shoved the last ingredients in the cauldron. She sniffed, she could smell something wafting from Amelia's cauldron. She stopped herself and forced herself not to breathe in. The smell would only distract her. She wanted to wait until she was done to test the air to confirm that her potion had indeed been brewed correctly.

With the last ingredient added, she took her stirring rod and went about the last instructions of stirring, which she did leisurely. She was in no hurry for this ill-fated, useless potion. Love meant nothing to her; really, she just didn't understand it, even in concept or theory. Finally, she let her rod come to rest as it took it's final pearly color and she lowered her head to the cauldron. She sniffed.

She could smell something like autumn air and broom polish, a smoky smell she could not place quite right, and another zangy sort of smell. She raised her head and looked over towards Amelia and Doyle, and found the smell coming off of Amelia's potion was stronger. Well, love had never been Jack's strong point, but the potion was done and that was that.

As per usual, when the headmaster made his way over to her desk, Amelia felt the urge to crawl under the table and hide. Not because she was worried her work would be criticized - she knew she was good at potions and was certain that this particular one had turned out better even than her usual - but because she knew that the ensuing praise would only serve to draw attention from her classmates, and it was likely that none of that attention would be positive. The reactions ranged from blatantly ignoring the professor's acclaim of her performance - the reaction which Amelia was most grateful for - to scowls and dirty looks sent in her direction, as if she had asked for any of this.

Believe me, if I could avoid it, I would... Amelia thought as the professor reached her desk and, as suspected, gave her work a resoundingly positive review that could be heard throughout the dungeon. Although he no doubt meant for this to please Amelia, she found that all she could do was blush patchily and look at the floor, nodding to his comment in the appropriate places in the hopes that he would stop sooner rather than later.

Amelia's ultimate goals in school were to do well in class and to remain as invisible as possible. But it seemed that these were at odds with one another, at least in certain classes, and Amelia was unwilling to give up the first in pursuit of the latter. So she merely waited and nodded until the professor felt he had adequately critiqued her and given what Amelia assumed he meant to be "advice" about her continuing to pick Arthur's brain and then was finally able to exhale when he turned away from her and went back to shouting at the rest of the class.

Thank Merlin... Amelia thought, sitting down on the stool beside her for the first time since she had begun her potion. Now all she had to do was wait out the rest of the class until they were dismissed. To fill the time, Amelia found herself watching the surface of her potion, still spouting spiral steam. The potion was meant as a love potion - and Amelia was certainly not well-versed in the emotion itself - but potion making, even love-potion making, was far different than the emotion it was meant to evoke. Amortentia was a meticulously prepared concoction, each step carefully measured, weighed, and executed. Although Amelia might like her personal relationships to work out that way - if she wanted personal relationships at all - she acknowledged the futility of that expectation, given the way everyone else seemed to view things like relationships and love.

I wonder what fool it was that first decided that relationships ought to be so messy. My way would be much more efficient... Amelia wondered to herself, almost totally mentally checking out of class now that she had completed the task.