Mason had gotten caught up in his preparation and keeping a leery eye on the sixth years mucking about that by the time he noticed what had happened with Miss Potts, it was too late. "Bixby out, you have class soon." He dismissed the Gryffindor with an uncharacteristically stern eye and she was wise enough to skedaddle.

"Miss Potts, why don't you slow down," He softened his tone for the young Ravenclaw, approaching the table once more to find the shrivelfig mostly harvested, but her hands and sleeves were stained purple from the juice and Mason was concerned for the moisture in her eyes. Mason crouched so he was more eye-level with the table, leaning his arms flat on the edge as he passed her a more reassuring smile.

He wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but he assumed she had gotten frustrated and Mason was absolutely no good with upset teenage girls. None whatsoever. "Take a deep breath, you can stop there." He added, thinking he had seen enough to boost her grade.