RP Oliver Thorn Wandering, Helping, Continuing on... Finished

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Oliver could not believe his stroke of bad-luck, not only was he in dire need of finishing his potions homework, a Slytherin was now trying to mess with him. The Hufflepuff had only the night before transformed into a fanged monster, he could barely keep his head up for most of his classes, and definitely not for something as boring as Potions Class.

But Oliver wanted to keep atop of his studies, he had to, unless he wanted to spend another year as some-supposed 2nd year, at this rate, he'll be watching his original year graduate from Hogwarts, while he is studying for his first O.W.L.s.

Oliver pressed his fingers into the pages of his edition of 'Magical Drafts and Potions', muttering the next couple steps.

Ingredients: 1 Measures of Grounded Bdellium, 1 Measures of Grounded Chamomile, 3 Measures of Standard Ingredient, 2 Valerian Sprigs

....
7. Let brew for 60 minutes.
8. Add 1 measure of Standard Ingredient.
9. Heat on highest temperature for two minutes.
10. Add 2 Valerian sprigs to cauldron.
11. Stir three times counter-clockwise.
12. Stir one time clockwise.
13. Wave wand and complete potion.



The note’s were messy yet detailed, splotches of notes, facts, and important reminders covered every open space of the parchment. The Hufflepuff was, trying, to make a Drowsiness Draught for his Potions Class, one of the few words he picked up before entering an unconquerable slumber in yesterday's potions lesson is the words: 'Drowsiness Draught'

Oliver had let his concoction simmer for an hour, luckily Oliver had chosen to spend his afternoon watching his cauldron bubble and brew, otherwise this Slytherin would likely have thrown some extra ingredients in to make his drowsiness draught turn into some hair removal potion.

Oliver traced his finger over the last steps, in unison with his other hand adding a cup of standard ingredient he had measured precisely over a dozen times in the hour he sat waiting. The Slytherin continued to hurl “Expressions of support” at Oliver, going through one ear and out the other, Oliver suspected the Slytherin Girl would drop her “helper” act just after the first few words, but she was persistent, annoyingly persistent.

”Do you mind? I am trying to make an actual working Draught.”

The 2nd Year finally opened his mouth, being served a headache, a collection of the girl’s constant attempts at conversing with him, the dark purple fumes rising from his cauldron, polluting his face, and worst of all, the draught was turning the wrong colour.

Oliver rubbed his temples tightly, letting out an exasperated sigh as he shoved his notebook and wand out of his hands, sliding across the table.


Not my best work I wrote this on my phone while I’m out

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Oliver let out an exasperated cough, trying to clear the thick, acrid taste of purple fumes from his lungs. His stained hand, smudged with ink, fanned the smoky haze away from his face, though the stale, sour smell of his cauldron lingered stubbornly in the air. He could feel his cheeks heat up as he glanced around, hoping the Girl hadn't noticed the billowing cloud that had erupted from his cauldron. His head throbbed, and he struggled to remember if he’d added the Chamomile Tea Leaves before or after the Bdellium—he was too tired to tell, and now the potion was a nauseating mess.

"Ugh... Fine! Go grab me some more Valerian Roots from the cupboard over there!"

Oliver raised a blotchy, ink-stained finger, pointing toward a cabinet tucked in the far corner of the room. The door hung slightly ajar, its rusted hinge leaving a thin gap that didn't close. Oliver muttered something to himself as he reached over to grab the notebook he previously shoved away out of pure frustration.

"I can try and fix the cauldron, as it is..."

He mumbled, his mind churning. Was he just grasping for excuses, too worn out to start over? The thought of forfeiting the assignment gnawed at him, yet his exhaustion made every option feel like trying to slay a dragon. He ran a hand through his, now, disheveled hair, biting his bottom lip as he weighed his choices. If he gave up now, he’d face another disappointing grade—but if he pushed himself to begin again, he’d risk collapsing from the sheer effort. The weight of both options made his head throb, and he was left standing there, caught between pride and weariness.

"A-and don't try to swap the labels- or something! I got my eye on you."

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The witch proved herself quite useful, even for a Slytherin. Oliver watched as she picked up his book, to reveal pages crammed with his scribbled notes, ingredient steps, and disjointed observations—all in messy, dark strokes of ink that filled every inch of free space. It was a bit embarrassing, really, to have someone else look at his chaotic handwriting, something he considered to be frighteningly terrible.

Oliver eyes scanned her own expression, expecting some sort of quiver or disdain, some proof of her true personality, a sly, cruel Slytherin just looking to find something to have over Oliver. Yet, her face was completely calm, if not entranced in Oliver's own notes, she glanced over the section where he’d jotted down a description of “Valerian Officinalis,” her eyes gliding over the 'frightful' scrawl. For a moment, Oliver felt a mix of gratitude and wariness, reminding himself that despite her warm smile and easy conversation, this girl was still a Slytherin.

The girl, who’d introduced herself as Karina, set the book down and, in one swift, flowing motion, turned on her heel and strode straight to the cabinet. She selected a flask filled with the valerian roots he’d asked for, then returned and handed it over so quickly that Oliver barely had time to process it—let alone worry that she might’ve tampered with the ingredients.

"Thanks.. I guess." Oliver's suspicion was still present, but slowly fading with every passing moment.

And then the question came, 'Are you Part-Veela?' she'd ask, tilting her head curiously, suddenly and seemingly out-of-the-blue. The inquiry made Oliver chuckle, she seemed less and less like a Slytherin, cunning and strategic, with every word, she asked another outrageous question, truly outrageous.

'Or maybe Part-Werewolf?' Oliver's shadowed, baggy, bloodshot eyes spread open, his heart feeling like it had just stomped a pedal; beating rapidly in his ears. The words sounded so clear in his head, the vision of her weightless expression so vivid, it was like his senses had just rejuvenated themselves, Oliver never felt so alive.

Karina's eyes stared straight through him, the silence feeling like minutes rather than seconds, finally, she spoke again, and thankful Oliver was to hear anything but his own heart. "Need any... Abraxan hair? Or some Baneberry? Or- or maybe some Kneazle hair? Oliver stood motionless, recovering from the girl's theories. She walked over to the aged cabinet, reading the labels off of the shelves.

"Rose oil? Salamander blood? Tormentil? Woodlice Extract 63? Deadlyius? Anjelica-"

"Sprigs!" He gasped, his voice booming down to the girl, causing her to jump in surprise. Oliver didn't mean to sound so loud, his internal apprehension carried out into his words.

"I mean... Valerian Sprigs." Oliver lifted the flask he was just given by Karina, carresing the label with his thumb as he gazed down upon it. "I meant to say Sprigs, not Roots. Sorry."

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Oliver stood in shock, his thoughts spiralling as he watched the girl slip out of Potions in one swift movement, promising to find him Valerian Sprigs, somewhere. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, now, even more worried. The Slytherin had just suggested Oliver was a werewolf, he panicked, and then she was gone. Could she be sneaking into the Slytherin Commonroom? Trying to find her snarky friends and tell them all about the werewolf in the 2nd Year, and how she figured it out immediately, only for Oliver to turn into a panicked mess. The thought lingered with him as he waited and waited for the girl to return, this girl Oliver had been hoping to leave him alone was now a nightmare not to see.

He felt a fresh wave of panic rise. What if she was heading to the Slytherin common room to share her discovery with her friends, turning his secret into the latest gossip? What if she’d already begun piecing things together from his reaction alone? The thought of her spreading rumours about his Lycanthropy nagged at Oliver, only because they were true, filling him with dread, he could already feel the panic tightening around him like a net.

Just as Oliver lost hope, standing in the classroom for what felt like hours, and what was actually just over half an hour, she returned, another flask in her hand and a warm smile to accompany it.

Oliver gasped with apprehension, she really did come back, she really did go looking some-place for Valerian Sprigs when all hope seemed lost and his potion seemed doomed, lacking a vital ingredient, Oliver had even forgotten the worry of his failed concoction, drowned in thoughts. In that instant, his spiraling thoughts of what-if scenarios and suspicions of Karina’s intentions melted away. Every worry seemed misplaced—maybe even entirely wrong.

"T-thanks." Oliver muttered, stunned with surprise, as he carefully grabbed the vial from Karina's hands, and dashed 2 Valerian sprigs into the concentration, stabilizing his cauldron with a reddening hue. Oliver's face took in some colour as well, a relieved smile lighting up his usually ghastly face, the potion was steering towards success.

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Oliver was entranced into his own, for once, successful potion brewing. So much that he nearly entirely forgot Karina was still here, the words she spoke dulled out as they reached Oliver's mind, like he had stuffed cotton buds into his own ears, with the only exceptions being the sound of the rosy frothing cauldron and it's simmering bubbles.

Eventually, a few of Karina's words leaked into his mind, ones that Oliver was grateful to hear. "What's your name? And are you part-Veela?". Oliver looked up with a puzzled expression, lips parted like he just seen a ghost, noticing the young Witch was still here.

"Oh- O-Oliver," He muttered embarrassingly, still slightly startled by her presence, "I mean- Oliver Thorn." he chuckled the rest of his words out of his mouth, thinking about her wild, loose question of whether Oliver was a Veela.

It was clear the witch was just spitting questions out for the sake of it, she had no idea that Oliver was a werewolf, bringing even more colour to his pale face as a smile begun to grow.

"Part-Veela? I don't think I'm good-looking enough for that." Oliver picked up a cast-iron ladle from a nearby bench, and an empty vial striding back to his cauldron and gently scooping a portion of the draught, slowly filtering it into the flask and pressing down a cork with his thumb.

"Now! If I did this right just a whiff of it will be more smoothing than any tea." Oliver was in a surprisingly good mood, even more than usual, he had even forgotten what symbol Karina was wearing on her robes, the emerald green mark of a Snake.