11 Nov 2019, 06:23
A Forgotten Pursuit
Among all of the summer pre-readings, Potions had been among the least interesting for Evelynn. Naturally, it was less flashy. Charms had its plethora of clever spells and precise incantations; Transfiguration had its subtle wand movements and fantastical outcomes; Flying was something she could only ever have dreamed of; and Defense Against the Dark Arts had its roster of magical creatures to learn about and defend against. Even History of Magic proved to be grippingly fascinating as it opened the door and gave explanation to a whole world to which Evelynn had previously been ignorant.
But Potions...from all she could tell by reading, it wasn't really all that different than cooking, only you had a cauldron instead of a pot and most of the ingredients weren't things she could ever had seen herself consuming. Perhaps it was because of this initial misjudgment that had led her to focus more on the other courses and miss the subtle beauty that was brewing. For as she quickly realized after only one class, it certainly was an art, and not one to be underestimated.
Not only that, but she was good at it. Charms and Transfiguration, as much as she felt drawn to them, had proved to be quite challenging to her. She found it difficult to fully clear her mind. She always did. There was always some thought or other that stewed quietly below the surface, some problem or question simmering somewhere on a back-burner. To adequately cast, however, she had to clear it all away. To silence those thoughts and empty her mind. And that was hard.
Potions, on the other hand, almost seemed to invite it. In many ways, it was like baking. Or conducting one of the chemical experiments that her mother sometimes did with her to teach the principles of acids and bases or how two chemicals when combined could make another. These often involved complex and simultaneous steps. Preparing the next stage while still having to monitor the current. She had to track several things at once and keep a running tally on everything that had been done, that was in the process of completion, and had yet to be started. It kept her mind occupied; and in a challenging way, it was fun.
Thus, when she had received the returned homework for their first homework assignment, it was no wonder -- she thought, at least -- that she received an O. Beaming internally with pride, this discovery had opened a door, and one that she had not quite expected. When she arrived at Hogwarts, she had anticipated utter failure. In fact, she was half-expecting to be turned away at the door as a fraud, and all of the magical-oriented classes had seemed to support that fear. Here was something she seemed she might excel at, however, and now she had so many questions.
In particular, the Forgetfulness Potion had caught her attention, and try as she might, she had been able to find answers to questions neither in her textbook, nor supplemental library reading. Although, more than a little nervous to single herself out and seek out a professor for additional tutelage, she yearned to prove herself a capable witch. If she had to ask for help, so be it. Careful not to crumple any of the parchment that she bore, she carried homework assignment, blank parchment, and textbook close to her core. Determined to make a name for herself in some aspect of the school, Evelynn marched her way to the Potions class during office hours, hoping to catch him there.
"Ehm...Professor..?" Evelynn lifted a hand to rap at the door and peeked her head inside to glance around, looking for the potions' teacher. Moths fluttered haphazardly in her chest, and even she could hear the trepidation in her voice. She took a moment to take a steadying breath, tuck back a loose strand of auburn hair, and clear away the nerves from her throat. Taking a step to cross the threshold, and then another to enter the room proper, she tried again, "Professor Price? Do you have a moment?"
Awaiting a response, Evelynn's curiosity took hold. Smooth steps carried her further into the room as steel eyes scrutinized its interior. Ever one to seek out knowledge and the unknown, she was keen to investigate any class preparations, or perhaps even potions in the midst of brewing, that may have been present.
But Potions...from all she could tell by reading, it wasn't really all that different than cooking, only you had a cauldron instead of a pot and most of the ingredients weren't things she could ever had seen herself consuming. Perhaps it was because of this initial misjudgment that had led her to focus more on the other courses and miss the subtle beauty that was brewing. For as she quickly realized after only one class, it certainly was an art, and not one to be underestimated.
Not only that, but she was good at it. Charms and Transfiguration, as much as she felt drawn to them, had proved to be quite challenging to her. She found it difficult to fully clear her mind. She always did. There was always some thought or other that stewed quietly below the surface, some problem or question simmering somewhere on a back-burner. To adequately cast, however, she had to clear it all away. To silence those thoughts and empty her mind. And that was hard.
Potions, on the other hand, almost seemed to invite it. In many ways, it was like baking. Or conducting one of the chemical experiments that her mother sometimes did with her to teach the principles of acids and bases or how two chemicals when combined could make another. These often involved complex and simultaneous steps. Preparing the next stage while still having to monitor the current. She had to track several things at once and keep a running tally on everything that had been done, that was in the process of completion, and had yet to be started. It kept her mind occupied; and in a challenging way, it was fun.
Thus, when she had received the returned homework for their first homework assignment, it was no wonder -- she thought, at least -- that she received an O. Beaming internally with pride, this discovery had opened a door, and one that she had not quite expected. When she arrived at Hogwarts, she had anticipated utter failure. In fact, she was half-expecting to be turned away at the door as a fraud, and all of the magical-oriented classes had seemed to support that fear. Here was something she seemed she might excel at, however, and now she had so many questions.
In particular, the Forgetfulness Potion had caught her attention, and try as she might, she had been able to find answers to questions neither in her textbook, nor supplemental library reading. Although, more than a little nervous to single herself out and seek out a professor for additional tutelage, she yearned to prove herself a capable witch. If she had to ask for help, so be it. Careful not to crumple any of the parchment that she bore, she carried homework assignment, blank parchment, and textbook close to her core. Determined to make a name for herself in some aspect of the school, Evelynn marched her way to the Potions class during office hours, hoping to catch him there.
"Ehm...Professor..?" Evelynn lifted a hand to rap at the door and peeked her head inside to glance around, looking for the potions' teacher. Moths fluttered haphazardly in her chest, and even she could hear the trepidation in her voice. She took a moment to take a steadying breath, tuck back a loose strand of auburn hair, and clear away the nerves from her throat. Taking a step to cross the threshold, and then another to enter the room proper, she tried again, "Professor Price? Do you have a moment?"
Awaiting a response, Evelynn's curiosity took hold. Smooth steps carried her further into the room as steel eyes scrutinized its interior. Ever one to seek out knowledge and the unknown, she was keen to investigate any class preparations, or perhaps even potions in the midst of brewing, that may have been present.
Evelynn is hoping to ask @Elliot Price some questions!
21 Nov 2019, 04:01
A Forgotten Pursuit
Elliot sat behind his work bench reading the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. His warm brown eyes moved back and forth over his circular spectacles as he skimmed the pages. Before him a cauldron bubbled away as he waited for his timer to complete its cycle. Elliot was preparing another batch of the Cure for Boils for his next set of first year students. The older man had made it through his first lesson and the students seemed to respond well. He hoped for same success.
Ding!
Elliot quickly folded his paper and tossed it onto his desk behind him as he stood. To his left was a small jar of stewed Horned Slugs. Using his long tweezers he added four of them to the cauldron and set the jar aside. He opened the drawer of his work bench and put on his protective gloves before removing the cauldron from the flames. Next would come two Porcupine quills from the tall jar to his right. With a small plop they fell into the steaming liquid. After five stirs clockwise the quills would disintegrate and the liquid would take on its bright blue color. Only one step left. Pulling of his right glove, Elliot withdrew his wand and gave the brew a wave. Pink vapors began to slowly waft off the surface of the liquid. He smiled at another successful brew and prepared the vials as he let the completed potion sit to cool.
“Ehm...Professor..?” A voice from the entry of the classroom drew his attention. With a pleasant smile he turned to see one of his first year students entering the room. “Professor Price? Do you have moment?” She asked as she made her way towards him.
“Yes, of course.” He answered and beckoned her towards him. “Miss Decipio, if I’m not mistaken. How can I assist you?”
Ding!
Elliot quickly folded his paper and tossed it onto his desk behind him as he stood. To his left was a small jar of stewed Horned Slugs. Using his long tweezers he added four of them to the cauldron and set the jar aside. He opened the drawer of his work bench and put on his protective gloves before removing the cauldron from the flames. Next would come two Porcupine quills from the tall jar to his right. With a small plop they fell into the steaming liquid. After five stirs clockwise the quills would disintegrate and the liquid would take on its bright blue color. Only one step left. Pulling of his right glove, Elliot withdrew his wand and gave the brew a wave. Pink vapors began to slowly waft off the surface of the liquid. He smiled at another successful brew and prepared the vials as he let the completed potion sit to cool.
“Ehm...Professor..?” A voice from the entry of the classroom drew his attention. With a pleasant smile he turned to see one of his first year students entering the room. “Professor Price? Do you have moment?” She asked as she made her way towards him.
“Yes, of course.” He answered and beckoned her towards him. “Miss Decipio, if I’m not mistaken. How can I assist you?”
3 Dec 2019, 20:33
A Forgotten Pursuit
To her mild disappointment, Evelynn's brief foray into the classroom yielded little in terms of enlightenment. For the most part, the desks appeared cleared and the only preparation to speak of came from the front of the room where Professor Price's voice beckoned her forward from behind his cauldron.Interacting with @Elliot Price
"I was hoping you might be able to help me with some questions," Evelynn began, swallowing down a brief swell of nerves.
As courageous as she was in class to raise her hand and offer answers to posed questions, she hadn't previously troubled a professor outside of classroom hours. It almost felt like she was trespassing. Her gaze flickered from the professor's to the ingredients upon his work bench and to the pink fumes wafting above the cauldron and then finally back to the professor preparing the vials for bottling.
"I…Well, I quite enjoyed your class. I didn't think that I would…" She trailed off, realizing how rude that sounded and growing pink in the face as a result. "It was very interesting," she stammered on quickly, hoping he didn't take offense. "And I finished the homework," she added with a crooked smile, holding it out as though hoping her eagerness would make up for her earlier lapse of social discretion, "but as much as we covered in class, there just seem to be more questions than answers.
"Like, for the Forgetfulness Potion, the recipe calls for Valerian sprigs, but doesn't say how big they have to be. Or if they're fresh, or dried. And there was a range of time for brewing, from 45 to 60 minutes, but is it more like a sponge cake, where it's only an estimate, and what you're actually looking for is browning on the top? And what is a measure? It calls for a measure of Standard Ingredient? And same with a pinch? I'd bet your pinch is bigger than my pinch…"
True to her word, she had questions. So. Many. Questions. As soon as she had worked up the courage to ask the first, they just seemed to start spilling out all at once in a tirade of earnest curiosity and intellectual thirst. From the tiniest detail on how exactly to wave one's wand to seal the potion, to the best place and time and method of harvesting mistletoe berries, Evelynn wanted to know all of it. And her questions reflected just as such.
It was quite evident that unless Professor Price deliberately interrupted her, she would simply carry on asking every question that had come to mind throughout their lesson and her efforts to start on the homework. Which was quite too much to manage all at once.
8 Dec 2019, 04:11
A Forgotten Pursuit
“Of course.” Elliot responded to the young lady’s question with a smile. “Ask away.” A small jolt of excitement rose up within his chest. It was the first time a student had come to him outside of class. Secretly he worried about connecting with his students. He was a first time teacher after all.
The older man couldn’t help but chuckle at her next statement. He knew that some students dreaded his subject, but was delighted to hear that at least one had enjoyed his class. She recovered nicely as she held up her homework. “Yes, I remember. Excellent work, a well deserved O.” Before Elliot could say more, she began to pelt our questions very quickly. He merely peered over his round spectacles and waited for her to finish. However, after the third or fourth question, he deemed it necessary to stop her. Raising his right hand he gestured for a pause.
“I appreciate your thirst for knowledge Miss Decipio. Let’s address the questions you’ve asked before we tackle anymore.” Elliot gave a flick of his wand, summoning a pair of stools to the work table. “Please have a seat if you wish.” He would take his and pocket his wand. “Now, I know that I told you and your fellow students in class that potion brewing requires precision. This is true, but I also referred to it as an art form as well. I think you’ll see what I mean. You ask about the Valerian sprig. How much? Fresh or dry? That will all depend on what is available to you at the time. A sprig is usually about a two to four inch piece of the plant in question. If you choose to purchase these from a shop, you’ll have to check to see what is available. They may have gotten a fresh batch from their provider, or possibly they chose to dry it so it might last longer. However, some more adventurous brewers may choose to collect it themselves from the wild. In this case, you will most likely find it fresh, but you might stumble upon a plant that has wilted.” Elliot paused for a moment to let her take it in before continuing.
“This leads me to you next question, and hopefully I can connect the dots for you. You’ve done well comparing the brewing process to that of baking. The recipe in question calls for a brew time of forty-five to sixty minutes. Much like an experienced baker following a recipe, an aspiring brewer will learn what to look for as they practice their craft. This is why I will urge you to take extensive notes when you’re brewing your potions. This also brings us back to the Valerian sprig. As you practice, you will get a feel for how it reacts based on what state it is in. A fresh sprig may be more powerful than a dried one. If you found a wilted plant in the wild, you may have to add another to get the results you are looking for. The recipe is a great guide for us, but it is not as simple as just following the steps. To truly master the craft, you will have to develop a feel for it. This can only be obtained through practice.” The tables had turned. It was now Elliot that was rambling away as his passion for the subject took hold of him. “Does that make sense to you? It a similar answer for your question about the pinch. Yes, my hands are larger than yours, so my pinch could be more than your, but again, with practice you will get a feel for how much to add. I’ve got good news though, a measure is twenty-five grams. You can just use your scale for that one.” Elliot finished his mini lecture with another warm smile. He hoped he had been able to get his point across to her. She had done very well in class and aced her homework, the last thing he wanted to do was scare off a potentially gifted potion brewer.
The older man couldn’t help but chuckle at her next statement. He knew that some students dreaded his subject, but was delighted to hear that at least one had enjoyed his class. She recovered nicely as she held up her homework. “Yes, I remember. Excellent work, a well deserved O.” Before Elliot could say more, she began to pelt our questions very quickly. He merely peered over his round spectacles and waited for her to finish. However, after the third or fourth question, he deemed it necessary to stop her. Raising his right hand he gestured for a pause.
“I appreciate your thirst for knowledge Miss Decipio. Let’s address the questions you’ve asked before we tackle anymore.” Elliot gave a flick of his wand, summoning a pair of stools to the work table. “Please have a seat if you wish.” He would take his and pocket his wand. “Now, I know that I told you and your fellow students in class that potion brewing requires precision. This is true, but I also referred to it as an art form as well. I think you’ll see what I mean. You ask about the Valerian sprig. How much? Fresh or dry? That will all depend on what is available to you at the time. A sprig is usually about a two to four inch piece of the plant in question. If you choose to purchase these from a shop, you’ll have to check to see what is available. They may have gotten a fresh batch from their provider, or possibly they chose to dry it so it might last longer. However, some more adventurous brewers may choose to collect it themselves from the wild. In this case, you will most likely find it fresh, but you might stumble upon a plant that has wilted.” Elliot paused for a moment to let her take it in before continuing.
“This leads me to you next question, and hopefully I can connect the dots for you. You’ve done well comparing the brewing process to that of baking. The recipe in question calls for a brew time of forty-five to sixty minutes. Much like an experienced baker following a recipe, an aspiring brewer will learn what to look for as they practice their craft. This is why I will urge you to take extensive notes when you’re brewing your potions. This also brings us back to the Valerian sprig. As you practice, you will get a feel for how it reacts based on what state it is in. A fresh sprig may be more powerful than a dried one. If you found a wilted plant in the wild, you may have to add another to get the results you are looking for. The recipe is a great guide for us, but it is not as simple as just following the steps. To truly master the craft, you will have to develop a feel for it. This can only be obtained through practice.” The tables had turned. It was now Elliot that was rambling away as his passion for the subject took hold of him. “Does that make sense to you? It a similar answer for your question about the pinch. Yes, my hands are larger than yours, so my pinch could be more than your, but again, with practice you will get a feel for how much to add. I’ve got good news though, a measure is twenty-five grams. You can just use your scale for that one.” Elliot finished his mini lecture with another warm smile. He hoped he had been able to get his point across to her. She had done very well in class and aced her homework, the last thing he wanted to do was scare off a potentially gifted potion brewer.
12 Dec 2019, 01:02
A Forgotten Pursuit
Naturally, she had been relieved that the professor had allowed her to interrupt his work, and hopefully she wouldn't outstay her welcome. There had been so much to ask. And when she had held out her work as proof of her interest, she had felt a skip of elation with the response. A well deserved O. She had to take a moment to make certain she had heard him right, and it hadn't merely been wishful thinking. Certain that she had, however, she had to force herself not to beam. He had remembered her work. He had remembered her. That little boost of confidence was apparently all that had been needed to open the gates that had been damming her multiple trains of thought. She just hadn't been able to stop herself with the word vomit of questions that came after that.
At the halting rise of his hand, however, Evelynn aborted her string of questions with a bite of her lip. A blush of crimson crept up her neck to envelop nose and cheeks, and she chastised herself internally for overzealous approach. She had finally conjured the courage to approach a professor outside of class and already she had over-stepped.
"Sorry.." She muttered almost inaudibly, preparing to take her leave.
But to her surprise, Professor Price replied not with dissent, but appreciation.
With a wash of relief and flash of a sheepish smile, Evelynn slipped eagerly onto one of the conjured stools. Instinctively, a hand reached for her satchel as the professor went almost immediately into in-depth response to the questions she had posed. Instead, however, but with no small amount of effort, she withheld. For once, she listened to her mother's advice to listen actively in the moment. Not a moment later, she was glad for it, for in the effort of searching for parchment and quill, she may well have missed the finer points of selecting and preparing valerian sprigs. It would be later, she decided, when she would reflect upon the conversation, that she would write down pertinent information for posterity. For now, she leaned in, elbows resting lightly on the edge of the work bench, and listened attentively.
Then he paused, and not a moment too soon. To some, it may have appeared as though she had lost interest. Although she had retained her forward and engaged position and posture, her gaze had slowly drifted upwards. Now, it found itself fixed upon the pink fumes wafting slowly up from the recently prepared potion nearby. But she wasn't thinking about cure for boils. In fact, she didn't even realize that's where the trajectory of her grey eyes had drifted. Instead, she was wholly fixated on what Professor Price had said, chewing on the bits of information of dried to fresh to harvested sprigs.
But the question yet remained, what was best? What gave the most potent effect?
Her gaze flickered to meet the professor's once again, those very questions prepared on the tip of her tongue as he spoke again. She swallowed her words for the moment, but she didn't mind. Already mentally patting herself on the back for having suspected that there would be different acceptable methods of preparation -- just like how one could use dried, frozen or fresh garlic to spice a dish, and how each of those could then be prepared in various ways -- she basked in his praise once again.
"Oh it absolutely does, professor," she replied assuredly, no longer able to suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.
It certainly had made sense. All of it. And she was so pleased that they were finally getting somewhere with the questions. He had affirmed her suspicions regarding the brewing times; supported her suspicions that fresh ingredients led to more powerful effects; and that the only way to truly master it would be through practice and extensive tweaking. It was like a fire had been ignited in her belly. Like most of the students, she suspected, it had been the spells and wand-work that had most captured her attention and attracted her. She had been quite certain that it would be Charms or Transfiguration or perhaps even Defense Against the Dark Arts where she would find herself drawn. But it wasn't. Not that she didn't find them interesting -- they absolutely were -- but there was nothing inspiring about them. Once the theory was understood and the spellwork mastered, there was nothing to it. Potions, on the other hand, had a certain finesse it seemed; and she suspected that despite the difficulty of transfiguration, it would be potions, in the end, that would prove to have the steepest curve. That was exciting.
She was far from scared off.
"But then, it isn't just about the brewing and preparing of ingredients," she continued, picking up right where he left off. Still attempting to recall anything she may have read in her text, brows knit themselves together as she leaned heavily into the hand cupping her cheek. But she couldn't. And that was why she was here, wasn't it?
"You mentioned to bring our wands to every lecture otherwise our potions won't have the magical effects like they're intended to. How does that work? In class, we didn't really get to see a proper demonstration, or practice it ourselves. But I saw you do it just now. And the readings said to do the same for the Forgetfulness potion," she commented, dropping her hand to fold over the other. "But it didn't really explain it much. Do you wave your wand over every finished potion? Does it matter when you do? Are there certain patterns for certain potions, like how different spells have different patterns? Are there ever any incantations? Is there ever a time when you don't need your wand? Or say…could you finish a potion and then wave it at a later time, or is there a certain period of time where it's effective before you've run out of time to do it?"
Through a puzzled expression, earnest eyes sought out those of Professor Price, hungry for answers.
At the halting rise of his hand, however, Evelynn aborted her string of questions with a bite of her lip. A blush of crimson crept up her neck to envelop nose and cheeks, and she chastised herself internally for overzealous approach. She had finally conjured the courage to approach a professor outside of class and already she had over-stepped.
"Sorry.." She muttered almost inaudibly, preparing to take her leave.
But to her surprise, Professor Price replied not with dissent, but appreciation.
With a wash of relief and flash of a sheepish smile, Evelynn slipped eagerly onto one of the conjured stools. Instinctively, a hand reached for her satchel as the professor went almost immediately into in-depth response to the questions she had posed. Instead, however, but with no small amount of effort, she withheld. For once, she listened to her mother's advice to listen actively in the moment. Not a moment later, she was glad for it, for in the effort of searching for parchment and quill, she may well have missed the finer points of selecting and preparing valerian sprigs. It would be later, she decided, when she would reflect upon the conversation, that she would write down pertinent information for posterity. For now, she leaned in, elbows resting lightly on the edge of the work bench, and listened attentively.
Then he paused, and not a moment too soon. To some, it may have appeared as though she had lost interest. Although she had retained her forward and engaged position and posture, her gaze had slowly drifted upwards. Now, it found itself fixed upon the pink fumes wafting slowly up from the recently prepared potion nearby. But she wasn't thinking about cure for boils. In fact, she didn't even realize that's where the trajectory of her grey eyes had drifted. Instead, she was wholly fixated on what Professor Price had said, chewing on the bits of information of dried to fresh to harvested sprigs.
But the question yet remained, what was best? What gave the most potent effect?
Her gaze flickered to meet the professor's once again, those very questions prepared on the tip of her tongue as he spoke again. She swallowed her words for the moment, but she didn't mind. Already mentally patting herself on the back for having suspected that there would be different acceptable methods of preparation -- just like how one could use dried, frozen or fresh garlic to spice a dish, and how each of those could then be prepared in various ways -- she basked in his praise once again.
"Oh it absolutely does, professor," she replied assuredly, no longer able to suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.
It certainly had made sense. All of it. And she was so pleased that they were finally getting somewhere with the questions. He had affirmed her suspicions regarding the brewing times; supported her suspicions that fresh ingredients led to more powerful effects; and that the only way to truly master it would be through practice and extensive tweaking. It was like a fire had been ignited in her belly. Like most of the students, she suspected, it had been the spells and wand-work that had most captured her attention and attracted her. She had been quite certain that it would be Charms or Transfiguration or perhaps even Defense Against the Dark Arts where she would find herself drawn. But it wasn't. Not that she didn't find them interesting -- they absolutely were -- but there was nothing inspiring about them. Once the theory was understood and the spellwork mastered, there was nothing to it. Potions, on the other hand, had a certain finesse it seemed; and she suspected that despite the difficulty of transfiguration, it would be potions, in the end, that would prove to have the steepest curve. That was exciting.
She was far from scared off.
"But then, it isn't just about the brewing and preparing of ingredients," she continued, picking up right where he left off. Still attempting to recall anything she may have read in her text, brows knit themselves together as she leaned heavily into the hand cupping her cheek. But she couldn't. And that was why she was here, wasn't it?
"You mentioned to bring our wands to every lecture otherwise our potions won't have the magical effects like they're intended to. How does that work? In class, we didn't really get to see a proper demonstration, or practice it ourselves. But I saw you do it just now. And the readings said to do the same for the Forgetfulness potion," she commented, dropping her hand to fold over the other. "But it didn't really explain it much. Do you wave your wand over every finished potion? Does it matter when you do? Are there certain patterns for certain potions, like how different spells have different patterns? Are there ever any incantations? Is there ever a time when you don't need your wand? Or say…could you finish a potion and then wave it at a later time, or is there a certain period of time where it's effective before you've run out of time to do it?"
Through a puzzled expression, earnest eyes sought out those of Professor Price, hungry for answers.
@Elliot Price
16 Dec 2019, 03:56
A Forgotten Pursuit
Elliot offered a bit of a shy smile to match Evelynn’s as she told him she was able to follow his lecture. She seemed like a bright young girl, but internally he worried about his ability to connect with someone her age. Never having children of his own, he feared that his shortcoming as a teacher would be an inability to share his knowledge in a way that would be understood by someone much younger than he. It was surely a boost of confidence that Miss Decipio was not only able to follow but was actually benefiting from his words.
Her expression reminded him of his time at Hogwarts. He remembered the first time he had entered this very room. How his bright brown eyes grew wide with wonder as he took in the sight and smell of the bubbling cauldrons. How the passion had flowed freely through his veins as he learned the craft that would come to define his life. He only hoped he could do for Miss Decipio what his potions professor had done for him and guide her down a road of success. Wherever life might take the young girl, a proper education is a solid brick in which to build ones life around. Perhaps, he wondered, if he may just have stumbled upon one of the few that would make it through to his NEWT courses. Elliot waited patiently as she shot off her next round of questions. There would be no need to stop her this time as her questioning came to a natural pause.
“You are quite right, Miss Decipio. Potion brewing is far more than just the preparing and brewing of ingredients.” He began as he removed his glasses to polish them on his sleeve. “You see, we could give all of these ingredients and equipment to a non-magical person. We could show them the recipes, even put a wand in their hand, but they would never be able to successfully brew a magical potion.”
“This brings me to your questions about the needing your wand. There are many different theories about magic, but I will share one with you that has stuck with me over the years. Magic courses through our blood, all the way down to our very DNA. It is only through our genes that we pass it on through the generations. However!” Elliot leaned forward in his stool as his passion for the subject came forth in his words. He placed his glasses back on his head. “Magic certainly does not only exist within witches and wizards. If we look at the world around us, we can see evidence of it everywhere. From the large dragons that fly high over head, down the tiny roots of the Asphodel. Now. How is it we control our magic? Elliot asked the rhetorical question as his slender fingers withdrew his wand from his robe. “Our wands. I think you would do best to see it as a way to connect our magic with those of the ingredients we use in our potions. Simply just brewing them would not be enough. We must awaken the magical properties of the plants or animal parts and make a connection with our own magical properties.”
“This is why the recipes call for us to wave our wands. Over the years, Master Brewers have figured out the best times for us to do so. Take this potion that I have made here.” Elliot gestured towards the Cure for Boils. “Just as I added the powered snake fangs, I increased the heat for ten seconds. It is just at this moment that the magical properties are released into the brew and it is then we give a wave of our wand. My magic intermingled with that of the snake fangs and those properties are now infused into the potion. So, as you can see. Our wands are vital to the brewing process. It does not call for a certain motion like spell casting, or even an incantation.”
Elliot stopped there. Another smile crossing his face as his eyes met with hers, searching for that hint of understanding. He would wait to see if the connection had been made in her mind.
Her expression reminded him of his time at Hogwarts. He remembered the first time he had entered this very room. How his bright brown eyes grew wide with wonder as he took in the sight and smell of the bubbling cauldrons. How the passion had flowed freely through his veins as he learned the craft that would come to define his life. He only hoped he could do for Miss Decipio what his potions professor had done for him and guide her down a road of success. Wherever life might take the young girl, a proper education is a solid brick in which to build ones life around. Perhaps, he wondered, if he may just have stumbled upon one of the few that would make it through to his NEWT courses. Elliot waited patiently as she shot off her next round of questions. There would be no need to stop her this time as her questioning came to a natural pause.
“You are quite right, Miss Decipio. Potion brewing is far more than just the preparing and brewing of ingredients.” He began as he removed his glasses to polish them on his sleeve. “You see, we could give all of these ingredients and equipment to a non-magical person. We could show them the recipes, even put a wand in their hand, but they would never be able to successfully brew a magical potion.”
“This brings me to your questions about the needing your wand. There are many different theories about magic, but I will share one with you that has stuck with me over the years. Magic courses through our blood, all the way down to our very DNA. It is only through our genes that we pass it on through the generations. However!” Elliot leaned forward in his stool as his passion for the subject came forth in his words. He placed his glasses back on his head. “Magic certainly does not only exist within witches and wizards. If we look at the world around us, we can see evidence of it everywhere. From the large dragons that fly high over head, down the tiny roots of the Asphodel. Now. How is it we control our magic? Elliot asked the rhetorical question as his slender fingers withdrew his wand from his robe. “Our wands. I think you would do best to see it as a way to connect our magic with those of the ingredients we use in our potions. Simply just brewing them would not be enough. We must awaken the magical properties of the plants or animal parts and make a connection with our own magical properties.”
“This is why the recipes call for us to wave our wands. Over the years, Master Brewers have figured out the best times for us to do so. Take this potion that I have made here.” Elliot gestured towards the Cure for Boils. “Just as I added the powered snake fangs, I increased the heat for ten seconds. It is just at this moment that the magical properties are released into the brew and it is then we give a wave of our wand. My magic intermingled with that of the snake fangs and those properties are now infused into the potion. So, as you can see. Our wands are vital to the brewing process. It does not call for a certain motion like spell casting, or even an incantation.”
Elliot stopped there. Another smile crossing his face as his eyes met with hers, searching for that hint of understanding. He would wait to see if the connection had been made in her mind.
23 Dec 2019, 12:46
A Forgotten Pursuit
Another blossom of pride washed over Evelynn as Professor Price praised her acuity. She nodded slowly, as though transfixed as he continued to explain that even were the ingredients and necessary equipment given to a squib or muggle, they would be unable to reproduce anything more than a draught of vile taste. As a result, her attention only sharpened as he continued to speak on the nature of magic itself. In particular, his comment of magic in DNA stuck in the forefront of her thoughts.
It is only through our genes that we pass it on through the generations.
But how could that be? How could it be genetic if muggles became witches and wizards? How could she be sitting here, if it was a case of genetics? Unless she was very much mistaken, there wasn't a single individual in the entirety of her family tree who had ever displayed even an ounce of the unknown. Evelynn tried her best to remain focused as the professor spoke on magical beasts and the quality of wands to control our innate magic. She caught words or sentences of what he said, but she just couldn't shake that comment, and her thoughts soon transitioned into an entirely different direction.
What if there was a magical component to her genetics? There was a whole magical world beyond that mundane one in which she had grown up. Who knows how many people she had met or passed in the streets during her daily life had actually been witches or wizards in disguise. Did witches and wizards spend time outside of their own areas? Of course they did. Had she not made her way to the Leaky Cauldron with Professor Bercegueay in just such a fashion as she might have had she been shopping the strip there?
As the echo of speech in the dungeon class quieted, her thoughts continued to spin. For if there existed magical strangers, what about those closer to the heart? Wasn't there some sort of saying about every family having skeletons in their closets? That the greatest and darkest secrets were those swept under the rug within one's own home? In truth, Evelynn didn't know her family well. Her grandmother often joked about one of her own sisters being a witch, but Evelynn's mother had always assured her it was out of animosity. Even still, her family was much larger than the few with whom she kept any sort of significant relation. Plus, to this day, her mother still wouldn't fess up to who her father was…
Such troublesome thoughts evidenced themselves with the furrowing of Evelynn's brows. And gradually, the absence of a certain ambience finally dawning on her, the little lion snapped back to reality. Gray eyes raised to meet those of Professor Price, the latter of which seemed to be gazing at her expectantly. Her skin flushed pink with the realization that she had almost entirely missed the latter portion of what he had said.
"I'm… I'm sorry, professor…" Evelynn replied meekly, averting her gaze with embarrassment. Even if she had managed to piece together most of what he had said, she didn't want to admit that she hadn't been giving him her full attention. "I didn't quite catch all of that…
"But I think I understand," she continued, her bothered expression quickly replaced with one of renewed determination and focus. "Using the wand to draw out the magical properties makes sense. And, well…" She offered a slight smile. "Just having to wave it does simplify things, doesn't it."
She paused there, trying to think if there was anything else that she wished to ask. There always was. Her gaze flickered over to the freshly brewed Cure for Boils. The question this time, however, was how much time there remained before the professor had to finish getting ready for his next class, and before she had to start making her way to her own.
"Thank you, professor," Evelynn said, returning to attention to him. "For your time. And for answering my questions. You've given me a lot to think about. I think I'll head to the library quickly and write a few notes before next class."
It wasn't entirely untrue, what she had said. But there was a bit more to it than that. As much as she tried, the thoughts of DNA and genetics and convenient holes in the family tree kept creeping back into the forefront of her thoughts. She knew that if she stayed now, the efforts of Professor Price could potentially be wasted. She'd have to clear her head, do some follow-up research and work on what he had already explained to her so far, and come back again another time.
It is only through our genes that we pass it on through the generations.
But how could that be? How could it be genetic if muggles became witches and wizards? How could she be sitting here, if it was a case of genetics? Unless she was very much mistaken, there wasn't a single individual in the entirety of her family tree who had ever displayed even an ounce of the unknown. Evelynn tried her best to remain focused as the professor spoke on magical beasts and the quality of wands to control our innate magic. She caught words or sentences of what he said, but she just couldn't shake that comment, and her thoughts soon transitioned into an entirely different direction.
What if there was a magical component to her genetics? There was a whole magical world beyond that mundane one in which she had grown up. Who knows how many people she had met or passed in the streets during her daily life had actually been witches or wizards in disguise. Did witches and wizards spend time outside of their own areas? Of course they did. Had she not made her way to the Leaky Cauldron with Professor Bercegueay in just such a fashion as she might have had she been shopping the strip there?
As the echo of speech in the dungeon class quieted, her thoughts continued to spin. For if there existed magical strangers, what about those closer to the heart? Wasn't there some sort of saying about every family having skeletons in their closets? That the greatest and darkest secrets were those swept under the rug within one's own home? In truth, Evelynn didn't know her family well. Her grandmother often joked about one of her own sisters being a witch, but Evelynn's mother had always assured her it was out of animosity. Even still, her family was much larger than the few with whom she kept any sort of significant relation. Plus, to this day, her mother still wouldn't fess up to who her father was…
Such troublesome thoughts evidenced themselves with the furrowing of Evelynn's brows. And gradually, the absence of a certain ambience finally dawning on her, the little lion snapped back to reality. Gray eyes raised to meet those of Professor Price, the latter of which seemed to be gazing at her expectantly. Her skin flushed pink with the realization that she had almost entirely missed the latter portion of what he had said.
"I'm… I'm sorry, professor…" Evelynn replied meekly, averting her gaze with embarrassment. Even if she had managed to piece together most of what he had said, she didn't want to admit that she hadn't been giving him her full attention. "I didn't quite catch all of that…
"But I think I understand," she continued, her bothered expression quickly replaced with one of renewed determination and focus. "Using the wand to draw out the magical properties makes sense. And, well…" She offered a slight smile. "Just having to wave it does simplify things, doesn't it."
She paused there, trying to think if there was anything else that she wished to ask. There always was. Her gaze flickered over to the freshly brewed Cure for Boils. The question this time, however, was how much time there remained before the professor had to finish getting ready for his next class, and before she had to start making her way to her own.
"Thank you, professor," Evelynn said, returning to attention to him. "For your time. And for answering my questions. You've given me a lot to think about. I think I'll head to the library quickly and write a few notes before next class."
It wasn't entirely untrue, what she had said. But there was a bit more to it than that. As much as she tried, the thoughts of DNA and genetics and convenient holes in the family tree kept creeping back into the forefront of her thoughts. She knew that if she stayed now, the efforts of Professor Price could potentially be wasted. She'd have to clear her head, do some follow-up research and work on what he had already explained to her so far, and come back again another time.
14 Jan 2020, 04:03
A Forgotten Pursuit
Elliot’s smile faded slightly as he searched the young girl’s face. Her eyes seemed to drift as her brows furrowed. A quick bite of anxiety flickered through his guts as he looked her over. Perhaps he has bored her? Or maybe his unique thoughts on the nature of magic had caused her some offense. He scratched his chin in nervous habit as he thought.
It surely wouldn’t be the first time Elliot had been questioned on his beliefs. His family, colleagues, even old friends had often been baffled by his thoughts or rolled an eye when he expressed himself. He could hardly blame them, Elliot knew his stance on magic was one that would ruffle many feathers. In his eyes, he saw it everywhere. That the energies of this world flowed through everyone and everything. Like the roots of a tree, it sprawled across the world, connecting them all to one source. The age old beliefs that world of Wizards and Muggles should be separated. Locked off from one another until the end of time. In Elliot’s mind it was only a certain genome that separated the two. Some were born with the gift to manipulate magical energies, some born without. All came from an original source. It must still be out there somewhere. A key to uniting the people’s of the world.
Elliot blinked hard as the girl apologized, their eyes connecting once more. “No need to apologize Miss Decipio. Magical theory can be an...intense topic of conversation.” He would smile once more as she seemed to be able to grasp most of what he said. The older mans eyes would follow hers as she looked over to the finished potion and then up to the clock on the wall behind it. “My goodness, the time.” He said as he rose from his seat. “You’re quite welcome. Keep digging and if you ever have any further question, my door is always open.”
It surely wouldn’t be the first time Elliot had been questioned on his beliefs. His family, colleagues, even old friends had often been baffled by his thoughts or rolled an eye when he expressed himself. He could hardly blame them, Elliot knew his stance on magic was one that would ruffle many feathers. In his eyes, he saw it everywhere. That the energies of this world flowed through everyone and everything. Like the roots of a tree, it sprawled across the world, connecting them all to one source. The age old beliefs that world of Wizards and Muggles should be separated. Locked off from one another until the end of time. In Elliot’s mind it was only a certain genome that separated the two. Some were born with the gift to manipulate magical energies, some born without. All came from an original source. It must still be out there somewhere. A key to uniting the people’s of the world.
Elliot blinked hard as the girl apologized, their eyes connecting once more. “No need to apologize Miss Decipio. Magical theory can be an...intense topic of conversation.” He would smile once more as she seemed to be able to grasp most of what he said. The older mans eyes would follow hers as she looked over to the finished potion and then up to the clock on the wall behind it. “My goodness, the time.” He said as he rose from his seat. “You’re quite welcome. Keep digging and if you ever have any further question, my door is always open.”