20 Jun 2019, 04:05
A Dreamless Draft
The late-night walk from the second-highest tower in the castle to the lowest floor underneath the earthen surface outside was a long one that Cypresse did not appreciate. She had gotten acquainted with the floor plan enough to not get lost so often as she did in the beginning of the year; some stroke of luck prevented her form meeting misfortune once again on the arduous journey. And by stroke of luck she meant Ceta, who disappeared in a puff of smoke - or so she imagined, just for the aesthetics - as soon as the young woman had been seen to her destination. Her footsteps were light, but they still seemed disruptive as their sound sliced through the silence of the basements.
It was late, that much Cy knew. Whether or not it was before or after curfew - such was unknown to her, both because the strip of enchanted bronze metal usually wrought around her wrist was not present and because she could not be bothered to seek out an answer, although the question poked languidly at the edges of her attention. She had gone to bed earlier than usual today. Her work had been finished as it rarely was, and apparently it was healthy, so much healthier than her usual sparse hours of sleep from beyond midnight to before eight in the morning.
Okay, so maybe it was kind of unhealthy, but whatever.
And how could she sleep anyway? Her usual urn of Potion for Dreamless Sleep had been emptied yesterday night, just so slightly different from a regular Sleeping Draught. Sure, she didn't need it every night, but it was... nice to have, in her point of view. And it wasn't as if Cy could make a batch herself. Everyone knew she couldn't brew without help for her life, even if she'd been given the materials and explicit instruction. There was no way, and besides the possibly failing result was not worth the effort that it would cost her if she tried. Perhaps she could take a walk down Knockturn Alley, slip out of campus for just a little while, but without Aoi to accompany her, without a guide to make sure she didn't fall away, Cy was not comfortable. Also, it was the middle of the freaking night. Only a fool or a poseur would dare go to Knockturn Alley at such a late hour.
Her next best option was to look for someone who could - give her access to the potion she desired, that is. And who better do that than the Potions Master in the basement? Cy didn't know much about the man, hadn't encountered him in the hallways just yet unless he'd walked by without her knowing, but it was worth a shot to get a couple hours of good quality shut-eye tonight. Unfortunately for her, it was neither a weekend nor a Friday, meaning that she would have to teach tomorrow morning.
The darkness of the corridors did nothing to bother her or Ceta as their footsteps sliced like a knife in butter through the calm silence of the night. No other click or thump of shoes reached her ears on the trek, student or otherwise, save for the demure crackle of fire in the torches lining each hall. They had walked leisurely, for if she would not sleep while resting, she was in no hurry to fall into stupor too early. In the dead of night, her sister was not present to castigate her as Ceta was too polite to, even thought the little house-elf had no obligation from her to be.
And so she found herself entering the Potions classroom alone, her guide off to who knows where, a slight sense of awkwardness washing over her as she could not tell who was or was not present in the room. Tonight she had chosen to wear a muted scarf over her eyes, flat across the front of her head and pleated on the left, the braid starting just to the side of her eye and only slightly before the wrap reached her ear. The crocheted shrug that she had decided to throw on for protection against the cold night had taken the place of a usual robe or the like, but it had been the closest and fastest option, and if she was going to go request a potion for her sleep, then she would rather have actual time to sleep. Perhaps that clashed with her earlier idea. Perhaps it did not.
No sooner had she entered than stop, staying relatively close to the wall beside the doorway, waiting to be addressed if someone was indeed present to address her.
Last edited by Aurelia Notresvace on 20 Jun 2019, 04:38, edited 1 time in total.
30 Jun 2019, 03:36
A Dreamless Draft
Elliot sat at the mahogany desk that was placed in the front of the potions classroom, just to the right of the black board that dominated the wall behind him. A stack of parchments laid on his left, one before him heavily marked in red ink, and to his right, an abandoned tobacco pipe. The faintest whispers of smoke rose from it as the older man was grading homework late at night. Most professors may have preferred the comfort of their personal office, but Elliot chose to do his work in his classroom. He felt comfortable here in the bowels of the castle. The fire light from the torches that hung from the walls moved and passed through many different colored vials that were stored on the shelves, basking the room with their brilliance. Steam rose from a cauldron at the nearest table, his newest project. The vapors filled the room with a faint scent of peppermint.
With a sigh, Elliot put the quill back into the ink well and leaned back on his chair. Enough work for one day. He eyed the stack of parchments. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, the stack was never completed. His arms rose to cross against his midsection as he looked around the classroom. It was an odd feeling for the older man to be back at Hogwarts. The memories from the time he had spent here in his youth were a mixed bag. There were many that were fond, a lot of those taking place in this very room. It was here that he had found his passion for the art of Potion brewing. However, it would be a lie to say his time at school was easy. The Wizarding world was going through dark times and being a Muggleborn made it all the harder. It wasn’t the first time young Elliot had been exposed to intolerance, the Muggle world had just as many problems, but it would be the first time he himself would be targeted by it. It was difficult to be thrust into a brand new world only to have some not accept you for who you are.
DING!
The noise from the timer would break the man from his thoughts, a welcome interruption. There was no point in dwelling on the past. Elliot rose from his chair and made his way over to the bubbling cauldron. He had no need for a book or list of instructions. This brew he knew by heart. With a final stir and a wave of the wand, he pulled the cauldron from the flames, setting it aside to cool. Another flick of the wand would kill the fire with a poof. A noise at the doorway would draw Elliot’s attention, his eyes rose over his glasses in search of the disturbance.
A young woman entered. His eyes would naturally seek out the others to offer a look of welcome, but they would find none. The woman wore a scarf tied around her head, clearly marking her as blind. Elliot moved from behind the table as he spoke. “Hello there.” His voice was deep, but carried a soft gentleness to it. “Is there something I can help you with?”