1 May 2023, 14:22
Don't Cry Over Spilt Potion
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Never cry over spilt milk, because it may have been poisoned. (W. C. Fields)
It was hard and it was boring, but Potions class was not extremely cruel to Maverick Castle. At least it had not given him much trouble, with the only grade below E he had ever got was on his very first assignment, when he had not totally grasped what this class was truly about. But still, he did not really like this class, the materials. Professor Regan was fortunately a nice teacher, otherwise meeting her three hours a week would have been pure torture.
This afternoon, though, was more difficult than usual. Perhaps it was simply about the topic, or perhaps it was his mood affecting him, but Maverick felt he did not really have energy to deal with brewing the potion tasked by his professor. "Just one more hour," the part-Veela hissed inwardly. "It's not even one full hour, Maverick. Just a few more minutes and you're free to go. You won't have to deal with any more class today."
He did feel better after giving himself this little comfort word, and so with renewed vigour the first year continued his task. The first two minutes seemed all right, but then came the waves of dizziness, and Maverick's eyelids drooped. The Gryffindor attempted to quickly stir his potion in hopes he would finish this soon, but unluckily, his arm banged with his cauldron, and all his hard work lay down on the floor.
A few shrieked surprisingly, and Professor Regan strode toward Maverick. "Mr Castle!" she exclaimed, slightly astounded. The teacher cleaned it just in a second, but it did not make Maverick feel better. On the contrary, he bowed his head in shame, trying his best to ignore stares given by a couple of classmates.
This afternoon, though, was more difficult than usual. Perhaps it was simply about the topic, or perhaps it was his mood affecting him, but Maverick felt he did not really have energy to deal with brewing the potion tasked by his professor. "Just one more hour," the part-Veela hissed inwardly. "It's not even one full hour, Maverick. Just a few more minutes and you're free to go. You won't have to deal with any more class today."
He did feel better after giving himself this little comfort word, and so with renewed vigour the first year continued his task. The first two minutes seemed all right, but then came the waves of dizziness, and Maverick's eyelids drooped. The Gryffindor attempted to quickly stir his potion in hopes he would finish this soon, but unluckily, his arm banged with his cauldron, and all his hard work lay down on the floor.
A few shrieked surprisingly, and Professor Regan strode toward Maverick. "Mr Castle!" she exclaimed, slightly astounded. The teacher cleaned it just in a second, but it did not make Maverick feel better. On the contrary, he bowed his head in shame, trying his best to ignore stares given by a couple of classmates.
The world is in despair not because there are many bad people, but because there are many good people who do nothing.
9 May 2023, 19:10
Don't Cry Over Spilt Potion
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Potions was a subject that Qrow often found themselves enjoying.
ReducioOOC: @Maverick Castle, @Méabh Regan
Qrow | #064107 | Qrow's Thoughts | #11a513
It was one of those subjects that the redhead found to be an intellectually stimulating challenge—infamously tricky and finicky, but brilliantly satisfying when you succeeded.
Besides, the child had been watching as their dad brewed various potions from the plants they grew in their garden for years. In fact, the Ironwood family built their fortune on the foundations of potioneering and the production of magical medicine, as well as how these things were applied to herbology and magical creatures.
Generally, they didn’t score any lower than an E, and even then, a grade like that was usually a result of their horrendous spelling, which, had their handwriting been equally bad, at least said spelling would have been hidden; however, alas, their penmanship was impeccable and their spelling awful.
The curse of dyslexia
The class only got better when a particularly dozy Gryffindor lost his balance while stirring his potion too fast and ended up spilling it all over the floor.
Qrow snorted as the other students around the boy began to shriek in panic, and, when the potions professor cleaned it up, Qrow had to desperately attempt to smother their laughter; whilst it wasn’t entirely successful, they couldn't really find it in themselves to care.
Honestly, it was probably better that he spilled it; after stirring it as fast as he did, it wouldn’t be surprising if it had already gone wrong.
Really, it was the boys own fault for not paying attention.
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21 May 2023, 09:07
Don't Cry Over Spilt Potion
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Not long after bowing his head in shame, a fresh wave of dizziness swept over Maverick. He stood dumb for a second or two, and then finally his logical sense kicked in, telling him to lift up his head and closed his forest green eyes before opening them again (because it would not be polite to stand there with his eyes closed in front of his teacher, in particular after what mess he had caused).
He obeyed, but soon thereafter sat on the nearest chair, giving up. Standing up was such toil for him this afternoon, especially after what had just happened (talking about adding insult to injury). The somehow sharpened sense of smell did not help, it stacked up nausea on top of dizziness.
It was then the Gryffindor heard a muffled laughter (or was it really muffled?), and it made him turned his head to the voice's owner, an ugly creature with unkempt red locks. Those locks might as well come from a curtain or a rug, but looked like this tween was wearing them together as hair. For a moment, Maverick seemed to both gain some extra energy and forget where he currently was. "You be quiet," he half-snapped, half-hissed at the student. "This is none of your business."
He obeyed, but soon thereafter sat on the nearest chair, giving up. Standing up was such toil for him this afternoon, especially after what had just happened (talking about adding insult to injury). The somehow sharpened sense of smell did not help, it stacked up nausea on top of dizziness.
It was then the Gryffindor heard a muffled laughter (or was it really muffled?), and it made him turned his head to the voice's owner, an ugly creature with unkempt red locks. Those locks might as well come from a curtain or a rug, but looked like this tween was wearing them together as hair. For a moment, Maverick seemed to both gain some extra energy and forget where he currently was. "You be quiet," he half-snapped, half-hissed at the student. "This is none of your business."
The world is in despair not because there are many bad people, but because there are many good people who do nothing.
22 May 2023, 17:50
Don't Cry Over Spilt Potion
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ReducioInteracting with @Maverick Castle
Qrow | #064107 | Qrow's Thoughts | #11a513
For a moment, the boy seemed to both gain some extra energy and forget where he currently was, which was a classroom and no place to start an argument by any means. Even the hothead of a Slytherin could keep their mouth closed in such close proximity to adults; however,
"You be quiet," he half-snapped, half-hissed at them. "This is none of your business."
If this Gryffindor wanted to act so brave, then Qrow saw no reason to stop him from doing such things.
He could certainly do with learning some manners, and while Qrow Beithir did not believe themselves to be necessarily rude—after all, they had certainly been raised to be a well-mannered individual - they hadn’t meant any harm to this boy with their laughter; in fact, they hadn’t even been laughing at him; they had been laughing at the shrieking students and the look on the teacher's face, and so his snappy comment did very little other than irritate the redhead.
Honestly, the metamorphmagus rather liked having the company of other snappy individuals. Those who were quiet and held their tongue were dull and boring, so since starting Hogwarts, they had been rather set on finding others who were as stubborn and tempered as themselves.
Of course, that wasn’t to say that they would make any of this easy, and being frenemies sounded marginally more fun than just being friends with somebody.
Imagine being mean to each other and having fun with it!
Qrow smirked deviously at the boy; needless to say, they were making it their business.
"Hate to break it to you, lion." The redhead started, their eyes narrowing with silent mischief.
"But with how quickly you were stirring that potion, it was definitely better off on the floor in comparison to being used. Not preparing a potion properly could lead to it becoming dangerous."
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14 Aug 2023, 09:08
Don't Cry Over Spilt Potion
This could not be good. Nay, this was bad. Bad, bad.
First, he had made himself an object of laugh in front of a group of pupils. After this class, all first year Gryffindors and Slytherins would recognise and remember him for being that one ridiculous student who spilled potion all over the classroom floor. And not only them, but Professor Regan as well! He bet she would never in her entire life forget who Maverick Castle was.
Second, this Slytherin laughed at him and did not take the cue that he was not at all pleased with their reaction over his mistake. He had told them to be quiet, to mind their own business, but the fellow preteen responded as if they were better than him, even telling him that his potion would better be spilt anyway. In other words, they implied that he had been a failure in brewing the potion.
This boiled the blood in Maverick's vein, made him want to spring like a panther. After that, he would strangle the neck of this arrogant redhead and punch their head multiple times until they begged for mercy and admitted that they had been wrong, that they were in no way superior than the part-Veela.
But his desire and his body just seemed to refuse to cooperate right now. The fire within him screamed do it. His head thumped as if it was being hit again and again. And his brain frantically said no because there was a professor around. He thus did nothing but closed his eyes and wished that the class would finish sooner than his body's prediction.
First, he had made himself an object of laugh in front of a group of pupils. After this class, all first year Gryffindors and Slytherins would recognise and remember him for being that one ridiculous student who spilled potion all over the classroom floor. And not only them, but Professor Regan as well! He bet she would never in her entire life forget who Maverick Castle was.
Second, this Slytherin laughed at him and did not take the cue that he was not at all pleased with their reaction over his mistake. He had told them to be quiet, to mind their own business, but the fellow preteen responded as if they were better than him, even telling him that his potion would better be spilt anyway. In other words, they implied that he had been a failure in brewing the potion.
This boiled the blood in Maverick's vein, made him want to spring like a panther. After that, he would strangle the neck of this arrogant redhead and punch their head multiple times until they begged for mercy and admitted that they had been wrong, that they were in no way superior than the part-Veela.
But his desire and his body just seemed to refuse to cooperate right now. The fire within him screamed do it. His head thumped as if it was being hit again and again. And his brain frantically said no because there was a professor around. He thus did nothing but closed his eyes and wished that the class would finish sooner than his body's prediction.
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The world is in despair not because there are many bad people, but because there are many good people who do nothing.
16 Oct 2023, 17:33
Don't Cry Over Spilt Potion
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Still, the boy was clearly the high strung type and all of Qrows snide comments and mischievous quips were only fun if the other person was also participating in it. What was it with the other first years being so uptight?
ReducioInteracting with @Maverick Castle
Qrow | #064107 | Qrow's Thoughts | #11a513
The redhead backtracked, purposefully ignoring the other student and feigning ignorance to his existence as they checked their own potion, stirring and going over each step meticulously in their mind.
Part of them felt bad for him, and they hated it. It's not like everyone had spent their formative years watching their parents brew potions - hell, some kids here didn't even have parents that could teach them potions - still, the boy was clumsy and incredibly annoying to mess with.
Honestly, the boys clumsiness was rather ironic considering the class had been tasked with brewing dizziness draughts–
OH!
The fumes of the potion could have affected him, it's not as if it was uncommon, and the professor had even said how mental potions could be used practically against an opponent by throwing it at them so they could inhale the fumes.
By the time of their realisation, Qrows own potion was almost done; spending so much time watching their parents brew potions as a child likely upped their immunity to the fumes themselves, though it was likely that a few students were being affected by them.
They didn't speak to the other student, settling on glaring for a bit, before pointing at the Gryffindor and then gesturing to the empty space beside them. Hopefully he'd bring his own glass vials, while Qrow wasn't against giving him one of their spares - they could certainly afford new ones - they also knew they had mistakenly added too much fire-whiskey to the potion in the beginning, their own sloppy spelling being their downfall, and had had to adjust the measurements accordingly; the Slytherin was sure that they hadn't enough of their own vials to contain all the contents of the cauldron.
Finally Qrowley spoke up, actively refusing to look at the boy, and much too concentrated on finishing their draught with the practiced wand movement.
"For the record" The metamorphmagus started, a calm sense of seriousness lacing their usually unbothered tone. "I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing at everyone freaking out. I mean, honestly: there's no need crying over a spilled potion. What's done is done."
It wasn't long after this that the lesson ended, and with that Qrow left.
Qrow has keft the thread──────────────────────────────▱──────────────────────────────
Last edited by Qrowley Beithir on 20 Nov 2023, 14:40, edited 1 time in total.
20 Nov 2023, 08:01
Don't Cry Over Spilt Potion
Yeah, right! This student laughed at him, and then claiming that they did not but instead they had laugh at the other pupils' reactions without looking at him in the eyes. That was very... believable. But whatever. In the usual circumstances, he would grapple at their collar and after that push them to the wall or the floor, just to make them say they were sorry.
But today was not one of those days. He did not feel he had his usual physical strength, and even his anger and determination to show them who was boss were not as strong as they normally were. Everything just hurt, his head in particular, so he let things slip.
Maverick simply sat back on his chair, concentrating on trying to brew another one just because of two reasons: one, he needed something to concentrate on so that it would distract his attention from the annoying fellow first year; and two, he was not in the mood to hear Professor Regan telling him what to do, in this case trying to brew again.
The bell that signalled the end of the last period just could not come quick enough. When it finally did, the part-Veela left the class without speaking to anyone, heading for the shower to try to wash his headache away.
But today was not one of those days. He did not feel he had his usual physical strength, and even his anger and determination to show them who was boss were not as strong as they normally were. Everything just hurt, his head in particular, so he let things slip.
Maverick simply sat back on his chair, concentrating on trying to brew another one just because of two reasons: one, he needed something to concentrate on so that it would distract his attention from the annoying fellow first year; and two, he was not in the mood to hear Professor Regan telling him what to do, in this case trying to brew again.
The bell that signalled the end of the last period just could not come quick enough. When it finally did, the part-Veela left the class without speaking to anyone, heading for the shower to try to wash his headache away.
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The world is in despair not because there are many bad people, but because there are many good people who do nothing.