Sunday 6th October, 1889 — Hogsmeade Hall, Potion Brewing Competition
He may be no potioneer, but Evander Darrow was a man who would leap at the chance to work on a weekend, and he couldn’t possibly conceive of what else he would have been doing at the Harvest Festival. No, no. Thankfully this saved him from being sociable.
Besides, Potions was a perfect place for pedantry, and Evander did so enjoy judging things. Fairly, of course. Though how those in the novice category would fare was rather under question.
Once the rules had been laid out at length, he announced the first potion that would be required of them. “It will be a Cure for Boils, please. Good luck.” He nodded to instruct them to begin, and to signal him when they had completed the task. (Luck, of course, had nothing to do with potion-brewing.)
Besides, Potions was a perfect place for pedantry, and Evander did so enjoy judging things. Fairly, of course. Though how those in the novice category would fare was rather under question.
Once the rules had been laid out at length, he announced the first potion that would be required of them. “It will be a Cure for Boils, please. Good luck.” He nodded to instruct them to begin, and to signal him when they had completed the task. (Luck, of course, had nothing to do with potion-brewing.)
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