Picking Mushrooms
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xx | Even after the positively horrendous week she had been having, there was one thing that could bring eleven-year-old Kahira Valerian out of her funk: potions class. Since before she had been able to so much as toddle around on chubby baby legs, the scarlet-haired spare had been dreaming of brewing potions, just like her father. (And technically her mother, too, although Eloise Valerian - née Lavande, yes, of those Lavandes - was more of a herbologist and ingredients-harvester than necessarily a brewer herself, even though she could hold her ground against most of the true Valerians in that regard.) Kahira's first instance of magic had been in a potions laboratory, after all, albeit she had never quite been allowed to actually brew any until now. But here she was, in her second Potions course of the week, already a thousand percent more ready for the lesson than any other one of the scrounging mongrels that she could call her classmates. Yes, Kahira's whole life had been leading up to this: her first real brew. Of course, like many other things in the last few days, this class just couldn't go exactly as she wanted it to. For one, she'd been assigned a seatmate - a desk partner, really, with whom she would be attempting this first shot at the Cure for Boils. An unobtrusively easy concoction, if Kahira was remembering her frantic read-throughs of Magical Drafts and Potions correctly (and she was; she always would, whenever it came to this class in particular). As long as she was assigned a halfway competent partner, and not some random nitwit, she would be pulling her first "Outstanding" mark in no time. When they were to begin their brew, the redheaded refusing-to-be-Hufflepuff turned to eye up her allocated partner-in-potions. Scruffy blonde locks and about her size - well, it certainly couldn't have been said that either of them was talented in the height department, though Kahira was quite sure her hair was more luscious and certainly shinier. "Well," she sniffed, looking somewhat down her nose at the flaxen-haired fellow. "You'll collect the ingredients from the store-room just there and then I'll brew the potion, I presume? I promise you that it shall certainly be more up to the professor's exacting standards if you don't really... touch anything during the process." |
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| kahira valerian second gen | _____________________ | shop | ___________________ |
Picking Mushrooms
“Nine-Hundred and Forty-Six. Nine-Hundred and Forty-Seven. Nine-Hundred and Forty-Eight!”
Morel stopped dead at the foot of the archway leading into the potions class. Beads of sweat clung tightly to his forehead like a glistening ham in the afternoon sun. There was a fierceness to his gaze. He took a singular deep, bottom of the belly breath and pulled out a small, tattered journal from his breast pocket.
A feather slipped out. It was his lucky grouse feather. The one he’d found inside his sock several hours ago. It slowly pirouetted down to the damp, dingy dungeon floor, when out of the fray, a whipping white hand flew underneath like a magic carpet.
“Not so fast-“ Morel said, planning on finishing the sentence with some witty quip, but that eluded him in this particular moment. It would come to him sooner rather than later; he was confident like that. So back into the pocket it went.
The quill came out next. A thirteen-inch, swan feather quill. He cast a quick glance to his right and then to his left, pulling the swan quill tightly to his chest as he did so. He didn’t want the other kids to feel inferior just because he wielded this fancy piece of feather and they had a regular old, run of the mill quill. Nevertheless, it tugged a smirk from the side of his lips. One that threatened to turn into a prideful glee.
He scribbled quickly. Meticulously. Making sure to document his newest discovery.
Nine-Hundred and Forty-Eight heartbeats from Ravenclaw Dormitory to Potions Classroom. More efficient method of measuring distance?
The sound of his classmates’ chatter snapped his mind away from the importance of it all. That too could wait, for potions beckoned him. Journal, swan quill – pocket.
He stepped inside and the acrid fumes hit his nose like a rogue bludger. He recoiled like a snake may recoil from an eagle, but he was supposed to be the latter.
He scanned the room through his excruciating discomfort and immediately identified a pattern here. Every table had two students standing at them. There must be some sort of functional purpose for this. Perhaps all the lefties were paired with right-handed students. Perhaps they’d all made friends before he’d had the chance…
He spotted a space at a table beside a small Hufflepuff girl. Glad not to be pairing with a Slytherin he happily stepped forward – only then, she turned.
Sentences poured out of her mouth – no, gushed out. He gawked at the small mouth from which many large words emerged and in such vigorous quantities. He squinted, readjusted his look on the fly and played it cool. His role in this matriarchal hierarchy had thus been determined. He would collect the ingredients, and she would do – well, she would do everything else, he presumed.
“I hear you loud and – yeah, I got all of it.” Morel said. He extended a now increasingly clammy hand outwards towards the girl. He’d first presumed it was the dungeons that produced such slick palms, but an entirely different causation was now concocting in his cerebrum.
“Morel.” He grinned, “That’s my name. It’s – It’s Morel. You know, like - The Morel of the story-”
Picking Mushrooms
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xx | As far as first impressions go for class partners, it could have certainly been much worse. In just her first few days of school, Kahira had already realised that plenty of the lesser students didn't really understand their place, and that they tended to think that everyone was - gag - "equal." As if. She who had spent her life preparing for this moment, and some rando Muggle-born who had just learned about the magical world two weeks prior, could hardly be considered on the same plane of existence. But this bloke, with the blond hair that so desperately needed a comb and perhaps some Sleekeazy's, seemed to take to Kahira ordering him around right away. This in and of itself was enough to immediately warm her to him. Perhaps it was just that she had spent her whole life bossing around house-elves and here everyone was so prone to having horrible things like "independent thoughts" and "senses of selves" that she was just simply so grateful to encounter somebody who understood. Only because of this gratitude did she somewhat begrudgingly take his hand when he offered it. Most young gentlemen would have pressed a kiss to the back of her nearly manicured fingers, but perhaps this boy had grown up in a forest of some sort - it would certainly explain the odd fashion and even stranger hairstyle. The most important test, however, was yet to come. He introduced himself as Morel, no surname, which was already a warning of sorts; most purebloods tended to lead with their family connection, then explain their individual moniker. But he hadn't failed yet. She could find out his surname later. For now... "Valerian. Kahira Valerian," she said, rather haughtily, as they pumped hands like some sort of common-folk. Her dark eyes watched his lagoon-blue gaze closely, waiting for a flicker of recognition - and this, now, was the real experiment. If he had lived in the Wizarding World for his entire life, he would have certainly heard of the Valerian Consortium. Most purebloods would make the connection immediately. Muggle-borns, on the other hand, were prone to stammering and lack of familiarity with the brand... and that was usually Kahira's sign to stay far, far away. And to wash her hands. She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Morel... as in the mushroom? I take it your parents have a rather strange sense of humour. Or... perhaps Herbologists?" Kahira turned her gaze to the store-room, where he would soon be gathering all of the ingredients necessary to brew Cure for Boils. "If that's the case, you should have no problem selecting the best ingredients. Not that there are any plants in this one, of course." |
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@Morel Thistledown
| kahira valerian second gen | _____________________ | shop | ___________________ |