Disaster in the Making PV Caspian Villin

TIME |
DATE | 26/4/2025
INTERACTING |@Eira Cravensworth

Dialogue/Thoughts
Thoughts - #009e77┃ Speech - #007514

OUTFIT

ℭaspian stepped into the Potions classroom, eyes scanning the room with a quiet sense of indifference. Remedial Potions wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to spend his afternoon, but here he was.
He scanned the room, noting the students were already deep into their work. Some looked more focused than others. He rolled his eyes, but his eyes caught one person almost immediately.
She was sitting near the back of the room, her cauldron in front of her, surrounded by various ingredients. Caspian couldn’t help but notice that her workspace was... a bit chaotic. It was clear she had all the required materials for the Babbling Beverage, but something about the way she was arranging things made it obvious that she wasn’t simply following the instructions. Her cauldron had definitely seen better days.
She was adjusting, perhaps even experimenting. Caspian couldn’t help the sly smirk that tugged at his lips. There was something about her setup that screamed, “I do things my way,” and he couldn’t resist poking fun at it.
He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk crossing his face.
He leaned against a table near the front and called out casually, “You know,” he said, loud enough for her to hear, “if you keep adding extra ingredients like that, you’re going to end up with something that’s more explosive than a Babbling Beverage,"
He pushed off the table, walking towards her. "And we’ll all be lucky if we can still hear by the end of class.”
Caspian took a step back, folding his arms across his chest, eyes glittering with amusement. “I mean, if you're planning to set off the entire classroom with an explosion, at least warn us first. Some of us actually prefer to keep our hearing intact, you know."
"You know what, I care about myself way too much."Caspian sat down beside her with an exaggerated sigh. "I'm gonna help you."
He watched the cauldron for a moment, eyes scanning the contents as if assessing its potential. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you actually want a Babbling Beverage... or if you're just trying to create the next great potion disaster. I mean, I get it, really. Following instructions gets boring. Who doesn’t love a little chaos now and then?”
He smirked at his own words. Maybe he had a bit of a penchant for chaos too, but he wasn’t about to admit that. The last thing he needed was someone thinking they could outdo him in the “rules-be-damned” department.

Eira nearly jumped from her seat when she looked up and saw a boy she had definitely seen multiple times, from the Slytherin common room to classes. He has pale blonde hair that nearly reaches his shoulders and a smirk on his face, amplifying the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before she could even process a response, he was looking at her cauldron with a critical expression, and it made her cheeks heat up. Granted, her cauldron may have been a bit... in a rough patch ever since it was passed to her hands from the cauldron shop, but really, does she need to be reminded of that?

He then went into a tangent about the class needing their hearing before he oh-so-magnanimously offered his help to brew another batch of the Babbling Beverage, before his implication that she would like to cause some chaos in class.

The nerve!

The exact words she wanted to say were, "I beg your pardon, I respect the professor and the subject to even think of doing such childish things!"

But instead, it came out with a squeaky-

"Wha- excuse me?!"

Okay, not the best introduction, but her mouth wasn't able to catch up with her brain yet. Or his brazenness, which she usually associates with Gryffindors, had caught her well off-guard.

Clearing her throat, she gave him a blank stare before straightening her back and tying her long tresses into a high ponytail, tucking her bangs behind her ears.

"My mistake from the previous class won't be replicated, I assure you," she breathed out, tempering her tone to make it sound amicable, "And I have double-checked the exact measurement of ingredients needed for the brew."

If she had any less manners, she would've blown a raspberry in his direction and stuck a tongue out. Instead, she focused on starting the potion by fetching the mortar and pestle to crush the poppy head.

It called for her to have it turn into a powder, and with a pair of extra eyes studying her actions, she could feel sweat beading on her forehead. She bit her lower lip and rhythmically crushed the poppy head before she realized she had forgotten how many poppy heads she had placed in the mortar.

Oh Salazar...

TIME |
DATE | 26/4/2025
INTERACTING |@Eira Cravensworth

Dialogue/Thoughts
Thoughts - #009e77┃ Speech - #007514

OUTFIT

ℭaspian bit his lip, failing miserably at hiding his amusement. She'd been fumbling around with those ingredients for the past ten minutes, and watching her was better than any comedy show he’d seen lately.
The laugh finally burst out. He couldn't help it. He covered his mouth with his balled fist in an attempt to stop it.
"You do realize one poppy head means one, right? As in, the number that comes after zero?" He smirked, "Unless you're trying to create some sort of super-potion that'll have the whole class speaking in tongues. In that case, carry on. I'd love to see Professor’s face when that happens."
But even he’s not that cruel. Usually.
"Look," He said, trying to sound somewhat helpful while still being... well, Caspian. "How about I handle the counting – since that's clearly not your strong suit – and you focus on not blowing up the cauldron?"
He snatched a single poppy head from her impressive collection, making a point to hold it up dramatically before crushing it in his mortar. "See this? One. Uno. Singular. Not exactly advanced numbers here." He slid the powder her way. "There you go. Crisis averted. Maybe we should make flash cards for next time? 'One poppy head good, five poppy heads explosion bad.'"
Stretching lazily, he eyed her setup. "I could help with the rest, you know. The stirring and whatnot." He twirled the pestle between his fingers like a drumstick. "That is, if you can resist the urge to turn this into some sort of magical science experiment. Though I have to admit, your chaos does make Potions way more interesting than usual."

Anger began to pour from her, she was already struggling with this class, and this... person had the gall to be condescending, and the mere fact that every time he opened his mouth, her wand hand itched to shoot a hex in his direction.

It surprised her, truly. She wasn't that aggressive against anyone except for William but this boy is looking for that line she had never known existed. She then remembered Harvey's words, 'Never say never, someone needs a good cursing every once in a while'.

Now, listening to her half-goblin friend's sardonic advice wasn't sound, and it will land her in detention and deduct some points from her own house- but Salazar, if it didn't sound appealing right now.

But his mocking words and standoffish attitude are not what she needed right now. Snatching her pestle from him, she tossed the contents from the mortar to a nearby bin and said in a quiet tone,

"I learned my numbers before I held a toy wand. If you're so great with potions then what in Morgana's name are you even taking a Remedial Potions class? I appreciate you 'help' but I at least try my best here, and if all you want to do is to make fun of me, then I highly suggest that you get out of this room and leave me alone" she grounded out, temper rising every second.

She was already pressured with her grades in Potions and Herbology, and imagining William mocking her; she doesn't need a rude and arrogant boy to waste her time. If he thought he could bully her, he had another thing coming.

There is a reason why her Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts spells are top of the class.

TIME |
DATE | 26/4/2025
INTERACTING |@Eira Cravensworth

Dialogue/Thoughts
Thoughts - #009e77┃ Speech - #007514

OUTFIT

ℭCaspian blinked.
Well, that shut him up.
For a moment, the smirk faltered—just a flicker, but it was there. Her words hit harder than a misfired Stunning Spell.
He leaned back in his chair and held up both hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Message received. Don’t poke the potion-maker with a superiority complex.”
He paused. “I wasn’t trying to make fun. Not really. I just—” He sighed and shook his head. “Never mind. You’re right. You’re trying. That’s more than half the dunderheads in this room can say.”
He stirred his own cauldron: one, two, three—counter-clockwise. The red tint began to swirl into the potion.
Slipping on his gloves to handle the aconite blossoms.
One blossom. Two. Three. They sank into the potion with a soft hiss. Caspian gave a smooth flick of his wand, and a faint shimmer settled across the top of the mixture.
“You know, for what it’s worth... I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid.”
He gestured to her cauldron. “You clearly know the steps. You just think too much while doing them. Like you’re bracing for everything to go wrong before it even has a chance to go right.”
He stopped talking. Caspian was quiet for a moment longer. It wasn’t in his nature to stay quiet for long. it was starting to get boring. The quiet in the room was suffocating, and the stern way she was measuring her next ingredient like it was a matter of life or death made him want to poke at her again.
“So,” he drawled casually, “is this how you always brew potions? Silent, angry, and radiating pure menace?"
“I get it,” he said aloud to no one in particular. “You’re too noble and focused to enjoy decent company while you brew your little potion of doom.”
He tilted his head toward her, voice taking on that deliberate drawl again.
“I’m just saying, if this is what you’re like during potions class, I dread to imagine you in the kitchen. Do you glare at onions to get them to dice themselves? Stare water into boiling?”
He leaned his elbow on the desk, chin in hand, watching her with exaggerated curiosity. “Honestly, I’m flattered. If I’d known I could bring out your homicidal tendencies so quickly, I would’ve said something dumb ages ago.
I mean, come on, I even offered to help. That has to count for something. Do you know how rare that is? I don’t even help my own group in class.”
He glanced down at her ingredients, noting how precise everything looked now — painfully meticulous, actually. Like she was trying to prove she could do this perfectly, even with him breathing down her neck.
That wouldn’t do.
“I don’t know, Eira,” he said casually, like they were old friends in the middle of a joke. “This is looking awfully textbook. Very by-the-book. Very... safe.”

Oh no.

Oooooh no.

A rush of blood encompassed Eira's face the moment when she came down from her temper high. Her wand that grew hot with her emotions immediately cooled in her robe pocket as Caspian expertly done the first half of the brew so effortlessly. She knew her gaze was thinly veiled with envy with how natural he was with potion-brewing.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down and felt small. It's been ages since she had let her temper take over and as much a she found him annoying, he did try to help her... in a round-about sort of way.

As she cast a Tempus to check the time when she could add the unicorn horn, she tied her long hair into a high bun and leaned back to her chair.

"It's not that my default mood when brewing potions is Angry Dragon" she sighed, "I just don't really seem to get it right for some reason."

With muscle memory, she tugged on the ends of her hair and stared at the quietly simmering brew. It was truly a remarkable trait of hers- well, disastrous moreso, as she can easily keep up with complicated Transfiguration formulas and theories but the moment she sat in front of a cauldron, things seem to go so wrong so fast.

Taking a deep breath, she answered his prodding observation in a quiet tone that is close to a whisper, "I do know how to cook, and quite well actually. I think it's more than it asks for specific measurements like baking. With cooking, you can adapt, change it with adding or lessening ingredients or directions but for Potions, (and to that extent, baking) it's more... uniformed."

She frowned when he mentioned that he should have tested her wit's end ages ago before she realized that he was making a jest.

Huh.

'Friends do tease each other. Or at least, if they have a friendly relationship' she thought.

It's not as if Eira didn't have any friends but most of her friends are more... sweet? Maybe there's another term but that's all she can think of at the moment. Sadie is sociable and open, Graci's warm, Harvey's proper and an amazing study acquaintance, and Rafal is funny and his cunning amused her. None of them approached her with Caspian's... charm(?)

He then commented that the sight before them was awful and by-the-book. Eira's brows knitted together as she tried to look at what made it look unseemly to him. She was about to go into the defense again before she stopped and reminded herself that he clearly was the superior potion brewer.

And she has yet to apologize to him. Madam Roscov will be glaring a hole in her head for acting so unbecoming of a proper witch.

"I- I'm dreadfully sorry, by the way; for losing my temper. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, and you did try to help. Erm.. if it's alright with you, can you kindly assist me in brewing the potion properly this time?"

Her face is surely resembling a tomato right now as her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

TIME |
DATE | 26/4/2025
INTERACTING |@Eira Cravensworth

Dialogue/Thoughts
Thoughts - #009e77┃ Speech - #007514

OUTFIT

ℭaspian’s smirk softened for just a moment when she spoke. The apology had caught him off guard—most people would insult him instead. He leaned back in his chair, arms loosely folded, and allowed a more relaxed expression to take over his face.
“It’s fine. No harm done.” He gave a shrug, trying not to let his amusement slip through too much. “Not the first time someone’s snapped at me. Probably won’t be the last either. You should see Nova Astron, she thinks I’m a menace to society. I swear, I’m just trying to keep things interesting.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, making a show of thinking over her request. His eyes narrowed theatrically, lips pursed, as though she’d just asked him to dive into a pit of grindylows.
“Hmm. Let me think. Should I help the girl who nearly bit my head off? Seems risky. What if she hexes me halfway through?” He tapped his chin, tilted his head to the side, pretending to deliberate, before offering her a cheeky grin.
“Alright, fine. I’ll help,” he said, though his voice was laced with that usual mischief. “But don’t think I’m doing it out of the good of my soul. I’m doing this because I’m saving my own skin. If this potion explodes, we’ll be in a world of trouble”
“Step one,” he said dramatically, “stop looking at the instructions like they personally insulted your lineage.”
He pointed at the line in question. “It says three clockwise stirs. Not five. Not twelve. And definitely not in a panic. Stir it like you mean it, not like you’re trying to cast a curse on the cauldron itself.”
So he helped her. Not gracefully, and certainly not quietly. He made commentary the entire time, tossed in snide remarks between stirring motions, and occasionally acted like he was about to flee the table. But he was focused. Well, as focused as he could be.
Finally, as they reached the last step — wand to be waved over the finished brew — Caspian stepped back with a mock flourish. He gave a little bow, one hand swept out as if presenting the crown jewels at a royal ceremony.
“You should do the honors,” he said with mock formality.