Worms and Poisons P2Y1 Ellaine, OPEN

'Yeah, I hope not,'

Paul smirked with his crooked smirk. "On the other hand, if we don't find any in the depths of the dungeons, nor in the forest..." Suggested the boy, leaving the rest of the suggestion hanging in the air, as he leaned towards Ellaine, to whisper to her, so that no one but her would hear it: "Come on, the professor wouldn't even find out that we took one. Besides, we wouldn't be stealing the Flobby, we'd just... well, temporarily look after him, for a reason as noble as a scientific experiment." Pausing for a moment, Paul breathed in to be able to continue. "And right after the race, we'd return him, safe and sound. See? There's like... a microscopic chance that the professor would even notice."

As she suggested other foresty patches around the castle, Paul nodded. "Yeah, of course. Dunno about you, but I often run by the lake, so I know the area quite well. Never noticed any Flobbies there, but then again, I wasn't looking for them." Said the boy, shrugging. "You're right. What I said before, is only a plan B, or possibly even plan C."

'My ma and my grandma taught me,'

Paul's eyes widened with interest, as she spoke about who taught her. "Whoa, that's cool. Are they... uhm, potion makers? Sorry, dunno if there's a special word for it here." The boy uneasily scratched the place behind his ear. It apparently wasn't that easy for him to admit that he didn't know something. He felt embarrassed.

'I like the idea of potions,'

Hm, the idea of Potions. What could that be? "Hm, we had a similar subject at Muggle school. It's called Chemistry." Uttered the boy, thoughtfully. "It was about chemical substances and molecules, also the way they bind to each other. We did a lot of counting and we didn't really... brew anything, but I didn't really mind. I liked it pretty much."

The boy then chuckled, likely over a memory he just remembered. "Once, the teacher made an experiment with vinegar and soda, and some other things. He made a foam volcano out of them, would you believe it? It was so cool..."

When the conversation came to the tastes, Paul nodded eagerly.

'Pure sweet?'

"Yeah. Not bitter sweet, like dark chocolate. Or spicy sweet, like some sweets or liquorice... gosh, ew. Can't stand that one." With the image of the taste, he shivered with disgust again, grimacing. "Just pure sweet, like Fanta, or my grandma's biscuits, pies and cakes, or... mhm, ripe fruit. Yummy!"

'Mine’s salty. Soy sauce, salt, cheese, and the like.'

"Yeah, salty's good too," nodded the boy. "Soy sauce... I don't think I've ever had it, and if I did, then I don't know about it." Uttered the boy thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Hm, I wonder if there's a way I could try it. There could be a spell or something to transfigure other liquids into what we want them to be, right?"

Paul grinned with his crooked smile, shaking his head.

In rock, paper, scissors, Paul also drew stone. "Again! One, two, three!" In the second round, he drew paper.

"On the other hand, if we don't find any in the depths of the dungeons, nor in the forest..." His voice trailed off, and Ellaine felt an odd sense of deja vu – those times when her brothers (read: Henry) would try to drag her into their schemes… Both of her eyebrows slowly rose. Not one – she’d always found it hard to do just one, much to her annoyance. “See? There's like... a microscopic chance that the professor would even notice.”

Sighing, she muttered under her breath, “That’s what they all say, ain’t it?”

“Whoa, that's cool. Are they... uhm, potion makers? Sorry, dunno if there's a special word for it here.”

“Potion-makers?” Ellaine repeated. “Well, they’re no potioneers, but they want me to at least be able to do the basics. Wouldn’t do to be hopeless at it, when it’s like—” She cut off, shaking her head, before continuing after a slow pause. “…always thought of it like cooking skills, you know.” It would be nice, after all, to be able to make basic healing potions instead of buying them every time she needed one, right?

She listened as he started to elaborate on chemistry. Well – she did like the same subject at school, and certainly the practical aspects more. Belatedly, she wondered if she should’ve told him about her semi-Muggle upbringing. Yeah, maybe, she thought. Now, how to imply it?

“My brother liked that one most. He persuaded our parents to let him try at home when we got back…” She trailed off, thinking of the mess the kitchen became after that. And how she sort-of played a part in it. Oops.

“There could be a spell or something to transfigure other liquids into what we want them to be, right?”

She thought for a while. “I hope so. Do you think we’ll be taught them this year?” she asked. “It sounds like it should be easy. But would they even taste right?”

Rock, paper, scissors – and they both tied. In the second round, she drew paper again. She stared at their hands in frustration. “Again,” she whispered, then drew stone for the third round. She was awful at spotting patterns, but perhaps Paul would go for scissors. Or he might have predicted that move and drawn paper. She mentally sighed and let fate decide.

'That’s what they all say, ain’t it?'

Paul seemed thoughtful for a moment, stitching his eyebrows and shaking his head. "Well, I'm unique." The boy paused then, grinning. "Meaning that, if he catches us, I'll try to figure out the most unique way to not get a detention. And if it's no success, then the detention will be admirably and utterly unique, I guarantee that."

Bold statement, you could say. Well, Paul was full of such, as well as the urge and ability to make something that wasn't really worth much joy sound like it was something splendid that one wished to experience in an instant.

'Well, they’re no potioneers, but they want me to at least be able to do the basics. Wouldn’t do to be hopeless at it, when it’s like—'

"Hm, that's very responsible of them." Commented the boy. "My parents are not that thoughtful with me anymore. They were, back at Muggle primary school, but now... they've given up. It makes sense, though. They can't help me with magic stuff anyway, they're both Muggles." Paul shrugged, not seeming sad or disappointed about it anymore. The phase was there but it had passed already. He was just stating facts now. ¨

'…always thought of it like cooking skills, you know.'

Paul nodded eagerly. "It is, ain't it? Like... cooking spaghetti with ketchup and cheese! That's my fave meal. I wonder which potion it will be for me." Joked the boy. "You're right. So, far, Antidote to Common Poisons seems very useful. I've heard from some older guys that there are poitions that are very fun to use, too. Can't wait to learn to prepare those!" Paul stated excitedly. "Which potion do you think is the best?"

As Ellaine spoke about her brother liking the volcano experiment, the boy chuckled, imagining the catastrophe. "Boom... Kitchen full of foam, mum angry, dad reproaching and bro enjoying the view?" Did the boy finish for her.

"Hope it will taste the same! Wouldn't want it to taste like some weird hybrid of more kinds of sauces! Ew." Paul grimaced. "Uhm... I dunno. We might, in Transfig? Haven't seem the curriculum in advance."

It came to rock, paper, scissors soon, and they pronounced "Again," at the same time. Paul chose to add with a smirk: "Haha! Jinxes!"
Then, and Paul, apparently being even worse at spotting patterns, drew scissors. Seeing the loss, he snorted, but took the mortar, pestle, and a piece of bezoar, sighing. "'kay... on it."

He started to crush the hard content of goat stomach. It was hilarious, really, for he had no idea how to do it. First, he started to beat it with the pestle, every blow from a relatively big height. After some time though, he realized that was only the right way to break the mortar, not to break the bezoar, and started to hold the stone on its sides with his fingers, to prevent it from moving, attempting to crush it. When he finally managed to crack it, it was several minutes after he'd started. "Gosh, finally!"

Ellaine squinted, trying to make her skepticism obvious as a joke, before she snorted and smiled. “Certainly,” she said, and continuing, “A detention so soon into the school year, Mister Turner?” she whispered, keeping her voice low, a mock-serious expression on her face as she pictured the reaction of Paul’s Head of House – not that she remembered who it was.

Ellaine was curious as to Paul’s seeming indifference to his parents’… indifference. There was no hurt nor disappointment on his face; which, that might be a good thing. Surely, she thought, it was much better than the alternative.

Potions! Ellaine lit up – inside her mind, of course; in reality she’d barely changed but for the widening of her smile. What she thought was the best? Favourite, then? Well…

“I suppose…” she hesitated, mulling over the different potions in all. “Wolfsbane is— life-changing, I do want to learn that; and the Draught of Living Death interests me— educational purposes, of course—” she hastened to add, just in case he looked at her weird for her, ah, interest— “but I guess I want to brew the Draught of Peace.” Maybe a lame option, she thought idly, but she really couldn’t choose.

“They better teach us,” she muttered under her breath in response. A pity – making sauce magically, and having it taste the same would do wonders for her cooking skills.

Content to let Paul deal with the bezoar-crushing, Ellaine returned to the list of instructions. “Four measures of bezoar… two measures of Standard… heat up, medium, 5 seconds… waiting, then the unicorn horn, stir twice clockwise, stir twice anti-clockwise, then wave, and voila.”

She looked up. Paul had just cracked it into fragments. She hummed, somewhat relieved to be spared the responsibility of crushing those stones, before absentmindedly muttering, “That’ll certainly be easier to crush, now that it’s in pieces…”

Meanwhile, she readied the cauldron, and measured out two measures of the Standard Ingredient, setting it aside to be added later. Then, she examined the jar of unicorn powder and the berries of mistletoes respectively, drilling into her head just what to do.

'A detention so soon into the school year, Mister Turner?'

The boy stopped crushing the stones for a moment, as pure mischief flashed through his eyes. He grinned angelically then, shrugging. "What can I say? I'm always up to no good." With that, the boy paused speaking for a moment, as a moment of silence that Paul himself considered to be comfortable, occurred between them.

It was really surprising how well this unlikely companionship with this quiet girl was turning out. Ellaine had something to her, something that brought peace to Paul's mind and soul. Perhaps, it was the fact that she always had an answer for everything. Or else, she tended to bring up these interesting topics that he'd never really thought about prior to the conversation. Well, no matter the reason, Paul was enjoying her company and perhaps, even teasing her a little with proposing his crazy, against-the-rules plans, which she seemed not to be thrilled about.

He went on to crushing the bezoar silently, an amused smile still waving his lips here and then.

"Besides," for a moment, he lifted his eyes to Ellaine, to suggest: "There's like... a gigantic chance that it won't come to that."

The topic came to potions then, and Paul listened carefully. The bezoar in the mortar was finally starting to get the consistency of powder, so he felt like he was doing good, and therefore, didn't have to look at what he was doing. The moves of his hands were becoming more and more automatic as seconds and minutes were passing passing by, anyway.

Wolfsbane. Hm... the first thing the boy imagined, was the huge, purple plant that grew in meadows all over Scotland. I know it! It grows near our house! Wait, is it a potion too? Don't be dumb, Paul. If Ellaine mentioned it, then it has to be a potion. Ran through his mind.
The second thing he imagined, was a Muggle metal band from the 90's that his dad sometimes listened to when he was younger. That was very likely not what Ellaine meant.

"Uhm... but, Wolfsbane is poisonous, ain't it?" Asked the boy uncertainly. "I remember my grandma always telling me I shouldn't touch it. But it's probs the same as mistletoe. The vaccine principle that the professor told us about. In small amounts, our body can figure out a way to fight the poison." Thought the boy aloud.

Draught of Living Death. "Eh, that sounds dangerous." Grimaced Paul after she mentioned it. "Is the effect like that it makes you look like you're dead even though you're alive?"

"Hm, Drought of Peace sounds lovely." Commented the boy. "It should be served to all generals in the world. 'cause there would be no wars then!" Joked the boy, coming up with a bittersweet grin.

"I'm looking forward to learning... uhm, the potion that forces you to tell the truth. Overheard it in the Great Hall once, when some older guys talked about it. Don't remember what it's called tho." Sighed the boy.

He then looked back to the mortar, to check how it was going. The bezoar was almost crushed, it only took him three or four more crashes with the pestle. "Ugh! Finally... tadá!" Paul put away the pestle and showed the content of the mortar to Ellaine.

"Four measures... hm, wonder what that means. Spoons? Cups? Or grams?" The boy wondered, looking at his friend in doubt.

"What can I say? I'm always up to no good."

Ellaine shook her head, a wry smile on her face. Yes, she thought lightly to herself, he definitely liked getting into trouble. Seeing as Paul was content to let the silence lie between them, Ellaine relaxed just a bit. He didn’t seem to mind the long periods of waiting, and for that she was glad. Her mind drifted, and she was momentarily lost, fiddling with the bag of Standard Ingredient as she watched Paul continue to crush the bezoar, not unlike many others in the room.

"Besides—" Ellaine, too, looked up, a questioning look on her face— “There's like... a gigantic chance that it won't come to that.”

Her mouth twitched up into a smile. “There’s that, I guess. We simply must not get caught…”

The silence grew between them, and Ellaine was just beginning to itch for something to do when Paul seemingly surfaced from his bout of thinking.

"Uhm... but Wolfsbane is poisonous, ain't it?"

Wolfsbane? Ellaine furrowed her brows, trying to remember – and oh. Right. She’d mentioned the Wolfsbane Potion, hadn’t she? Paul’s theory was interesting, though she thought that perhaps the poison is targeted towards the wolf. “Well, the main ingredient is wolfsbane,” she said out loud. “The Wolfsbane Potion is to help werewolves keep control of their mind during, well… full moons… Maybe the poison helps to subdue the aggression of the wolf?”

Paul’s guess on the Draught of Living Death struck closer to the mark – it was, after all, quite true to its name. “Well, that’s pretty much what it does.” Whilst talking, Ellaine thumbed the edge of the workbench for lack of anything better to do. She noticed, then, that her nails were a tad too long. She should cut them soon.

"It should be served to all generals in the world, 'cause there would be no wars then!"

Her attention snapped back towards him, and Ellaine smiled too. There was a lighter look in her eyes. “I wish!”

Truth potion… Truth serum? Ellaine looked into the distance, absentmindedly drying her slightly sweaty hands as she tried to remember the potion’s name, something-serum, probably. “I heard that you can’t really differentiate it from water…” A powerful potion, indeed…

His exclamation of success grabbed her attention. Ellaine leaned over and clapped soundlessly in delight – there inside the mortar was the finely crushed, powdered bezoar.

Now, four measures—

“Hm, wonder what that means.”

“We use scales, the ones we were told to buy on our list.” With her hands already reaching for her own copper scales beside the bowl, Ellaine thought it best to show him instead. “I already prepared the Standard Ingredient, don't worry.” Her hands pointed to the four measures of the Standard Ingredient she’d set out beforehand.

'There’s that, I guess. We simply must not get caught…'

Paul's eyebrows flicked up and down and the boy smirked. "Worry not. As stealthy as tigers." After that, he mad the index finger on the lips gesture, to prove his point. Then, in a joking manner, he ran the same index finger over his throat. It was a motion that they usually did at their Muggle school, likely based on a PC game, or a video or something like that. It usually meant don't say the secret or you'll be killed. Paul didn't mean it in that way though, merely just connecting it to the silence part.

“The Wolfsbane Potion is to help werewolves keep control of their mind during, well… full moons… Maybe the poison helps to subdue the aggression of the wolf?”

Paul's eyes widened as Ellaine provided further explanation on Wolfsbane. He had had no idea about the potion. "Oh! I had no idea it had something to do with werewolves!" Grandma never spoke about it, as far as I can remember. Thought the boy. "So, it's both a plant and a potion. Cool. The effect's... helpful!" Came the boy's commentary. I know nothing about werewolves, besides the fact that they're four or five X in the Ministery Classification. Should I tell her? No. I mean, she knows I'm of Muggle origin, it's not that hard to figure out.

"Have you ever met one of them?" Asked the boy, genuinely interested. "Werewolves, I mean. Do we know who they are? Are they listed somewhere?"

'I heard that you can’t really differentiate it from water…'

Paul narrowed his eyes, seeming thoughtful. "What if it's a scam? Wizards think it's a potion but it really isn't. Just water." He started grinning. "Lol, that would be the best prank ever! Imagine, that you're like... a suspect at a police station, or... what are they called here, uhm... Aurors? And the Aurors say they're giving you the Truth Serum. So, you think, dammit, lying is pointless. You say the truth, and that's how they getcha!" Paul giggled over his crazy schemes, sighing. "Helpful prank, indeed. The Aurors would have to verify the version of the suspect, of course, but... still, better than having to start an investigation."

'We use scales, the ones we were told to buy on our list.'

Paul slapped his forehead. "Oh yeah, right. So, it's something like grams. Alright then, if it's scales, then it's something like grams. I'm gonna prepare the bezoar." Paul took a clean spoon, dipped it in the bezoar powder and poured it on a scale. The other scale, however, went up, so he wondered what to put on it to make the two balanced. He saw a weight, so he took it and put it on it. "Whoa... this is really old school. Feel like a pharmacist in the Middle Ages, or something. I like it!" Called the boy joyfully. With another spoon, he added another calibration weight, until there were four of them.

"Hm, I think this could be it. Any opinions and impressions?" Paul poked Ellaine with an elbow gently, before he went to add the bezoar into the cauldron.

Paul wagged his eyebrows up and down – a successful one, and Ellaine was absurdly envious over his ability to do the trick. “Worry not. As stealthy as tigers.”

“—and as sly as a fox, I suppose.” She mirrored his gesture, not quite thinking much on the action. She’d done it many times, after all. She spared no thought on the oddity of the act – what did it matter to her what people thought of the price of silence for a cause?

“The effect’s… helpful!”

He seemed quite lost on what to say, noted Ellaine inside her head. Although – it was a helpful potion, yes. “A shame that it’s not widely accessible…”

“Have you ever met one of them?” Paul asked her, and Ellaine was silenced once more. He continued on, and his comment on whether the infected individuals were listed somewhere struck her mind into thinking mode.

“Well… no, I haven’t,” she replied after a pause. “I don’t think there is an available registry… yeah, it’s a no. Otherwise they’d never be able to— Werewolves aren’t looked upon fondly here.” A frown took over her face. She shook her head, a habit that she’d never taken notice of.

"Helpful prank, indeed. The Aurors would have to verify the version of the suspect, of course, but... still, better than having to start an investigation."

“Much better, I’d say. Less of a work to do!” An idea crossed her mind. It was quite possibly an effect born of the many detective novels she’d read, but Ellaine nevertheless straightened up. “Wait, no— it could also work the other way, yes? What if we – the suspects, of course, not us – have an insider in the aurors, so they unknowingly give us water instead of the potion! They won’t know, as long as we convincingly mimic the effects, right?”

Soon enough, Ellaine was tilting her head to the side as she watched Paul concentrate over the scales. Spoons of the powdered bezoar went in, and after a bit of squinting, he added the measures – four of them – to balance them out. A smile broke out on her face as they finished the first step.

"Hm, I think this could be it. Any opinions and impressions?"

“It’s all good,” said Ellaine, for the lack of anything to say. And truly, she did think it was impressive that Paul had immediately worked out its mechanics. It was always interesting, thought she, to find an intuitive learner at work.

“Now… for the second one – two measures—“ muttered Ellaine as she scrambled for the small bowl of Standard Ingredients she’d already set aside— “of Standard Ingrdients in.”

Ellaine tilted her head, peering into the cauldron. A moment to process its contents, and she nodded, a fleeting smile, pleased and satisfied, before she looked back at Paul.

“Now, what was the next step again?”

Paul gave her a small smile after she made the comparison. "Yeah. We have to be both if we attempt to break into the teacher's office. What a challenge!"

“A shame that it’s not widely accessible…”

She meant the Wolfsbane Potion. But isn't it accessible? It must be difficult to make, for sure. Or the ingredients are expensive, or a combo of both. Plus, it's used by a specific group of people, so... the fewer people buy it, the more expensive it gets. "Why? Is it the price, or is it that difficult to prepare?" Asked the boy.

When El answered his question about werewolves, he sighed. "Hm, that's unfortunate. It would be nice to talk to one directly, or to a person who has met one, to ask them what it's like to be a werewolf." Well, you'll have to wait, Turner. Ran through his mind.

'Otherwise they’d never be able to—'

Paul narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he thought about it. What wouldn't they be able to do? Transform without people knowing? But how about those who, say, were their neighbours? Didn't they have the right to know, in case the werewolf form of the person (how strange that sounds) escaped their house and chose to hurt those who lived nearby?
"So, there's no public info then, who they are. Hm... pretty reckless, if you think about it." Well, I guess wizards can do their magic to stop them if something goes wrong during the full moon. But... "Poor Muggles. They can't really defend themselves unless they own a shotgun. Which makes it poor werewolves, too."

'Werewolves aren’t looked upon fondly here.'

"Yeah... nor in Muggle world. Wonder why." Did the boy grimace, making a dark joke. There were films and series with werewolves on Muggle TV channels. Some of them were cuter, others way more horrible. Paul figured the right image was the golden mean.

Paul sighed. "Well, I think that a public list of werewolves wouldn't be that bad. At least, those surrounding them would know what they're dealing with."

When Ellaine reacted to his police theories, he smirked, nodding his head eagerly. "Exactly!"

'Wait, no— it could also work the other way, yes?'

Paul stitched his eyebrows, coming up with a thoughtful expression. "Uhm... I suppose so? Alright, let's quit beating around the bush, shall we..." Announced the boy. "Our case. There's no one to change the two vials for us. We'd have to do it on our own. Which - if borrowing a Flobby is seen as risky - is super ultra dangerous. It would mean sneaking in on the previous day and swapping the Truth Serum for water." The boy shook his head, speaking in a low whisper. "Hm... though nut to crack. Way too many odds."

Soon enough, Ellaine was tilting her head to the side as she watched Paul concentrate over the scales. Spoons of the powdered bezoar went in, and after a bit of squinting, he added the measures – four of them – to balance them out. A smile broke out on her face as they finished the first step.

'It’s all good,'

Whew! The boy breathed out. He felt her eyes on himself, as she watched him while he was measuring. At some point, a sheepish smile resided on his face and the Gryff looked up at his companion for a moment. "Learned this on a Muggle school excursion to a historic Pharmacy in Kent once. Boring excursion. Except for the scales." Paul then licked his index finger and pressed it into the bezoar powder. A bit of it stuck onto the finger, so he quickly reached to Ellaine and touched her cheek with it, leaving a line of bezoar powder on it. He then giggled, pointing at the line. "Ha! War paint! Looks like you're about to be fight someone, Weatherby. Hope it's not me!"


Paul then took the book and read the next point. "Heat-to-a helium terenature for 5 se-conds." Frowning, Paul read the sentence again. "Eh... not helium. Me-di-um. And not terenature, but..." He lifted the book up, closer to his eyes to read it again. "Temperature! So, we're heating it to medium temperature, whatever that is, for five secs!" Said the boy, laying the book back down. "Sorry. Me and letters have been at war ever since grade one in Muggle school." Sighed the boy, blushing and looking away. He was really not used to showing weaknesses.

"Why? Is it the price, or is it that difficult to prepare?"

Tilting her head to the side, she mulls over the question. She knows the answer – laid out in concepts inside her head – but to word things is another matter.

“Both, I suppose.” Her fingers tap-tap-taps on top of the table. She pulled it away. Too much of a disturbance, she fears. “Yeah, it’s definitely both. And besides, you’ll have to— like, drink the potions for a week before the actual full moon. That’s a lot to buy.”

"Poor Muggles. They can't really defend themselves unless they own a shotgun. Which makes it poor werewolves, too."

She stays quiet for a while. Her head is lowered, hunched over as she distractedly picks at her nail. She is confused – she didn’t plan on the subject getting this far. She feels— pity, she supposes, for those cursed, for those afflicted with this disease. The world is unfair. But what does she know of unfairness?

"Well, I think that a public list of werewolves wouldn't be that bad. At least, those surrounding them would know what they're dealing with."

Feeling oddly disturbed by this train of thought, she hastily changes the subject.

“Yes,” she says, thought it sounds very fake. At least, to herself.

***

“Sorry. Me and letters have been at war ever.”

Ellaine nods absentmindedly. She doesn’t mind it, and so instead of an interrogation, she says, “It’s okay. What’s the step after?”

The last question she murmurs to herself. Leaning away to check on her own book, she jumps over the words until it lands on the section she is looking for.

“Wave your wand, and…” She blinks, reeling in the information from her memory. “Ours is pewter cauldron, so leave it brewing for forty minutes.”

“I’m… going to put in the bezoar powder.” She carefully scoops the crushed powder from the scales to the cauldron. “Now, for the Standard Ingredient…?” she says, ending in a questioning tilt, gesturing to the small bowl containing the two measures of Standard Ingredient. “Would you like to do the honours?”