September 8th, 1894 — NEWT Potions

The cold, damp air of the dungeons never bothered Meserimus Valenduris. In fact, he found the chill invigorating—perfect for keeping students alert. Or at least, that’s what he liked to tell them. Today, the torches flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the stone walls, where shelves of gleaming potion ingredients sat in organized rows, each item labeled with Meserimus’s spidery handwriting. The air smelled faintly of sulfur and sage.

Meserimus stood at his desk. His sky-blue eyes, scanned the classroom, watching as his NEWT students slowly filled the seats. He said nothing at first, allowing the soft clink of cauldrons and whispered conversations to settle. His long fingers absentmindedly stroked the head of his raven, perched nearby on a stack of old potion journals. The bird let out a low croak, as if urging the students to hush - Archimedes, sitting atop the book shelf looked affronted at the real birds interruption.

Once the last student took their seat, Meserimus moved from behind his desk with an eerie silence, his long limbs making him appear almost spectral as he walked. He lifted his chin slightly, casting his eyes over the room.

“Good afternoon,” he said in a voice that was deep and smooth, commanding yet oddly gentle. "I trust you are all still in possession of your eyebrows? No sudden combustions in the last week - you've not forgotten all of your magic over the summer, I hope?"

A few students chuckled nervously, unsure if he was joking.

“Excellent,” he continued, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Today, we will be working on a potion that separates the competent from the merely ambitious: The Draught of Slumber. Simple enough in its concept, yes, but I assure you, failure is... unpleasant. Brew it correctly, and you’ll hold the power to send someone into a near-death slumber. Brew it poorly, and you’ll wish you'd paid more attention in your OWLs." he chuckled.

He gestured to the blackboard, where the ingredients began to appear in flowing script and underneath was an additional note: Infuse with intent. Magic is as much about feeling as it is ingredients.

“If you think this is merely about following instructions, you're sadly mistaken," Meserimus said, folding his arms over his chest. “The Draught requires not just precision but intuition. There are subtleties in magic that no book can teach you, and today, I expect you to discover that for yourselves - that is what differentiates the procedural potions of OWL's from the artistry of NEWTs.”

He moved back to his desk, allowing the class a moment to absorb his words. "You’ll find your ingredients in the storage cupboard—and do not forget," he added, “the valerian must be sliced, not crushed. Last year, Mr. Barrow tried to crush it, and the entire class spent the afternoon in the hospital wing. I would prefer to avoid such excitement today.”

With a wave of his hand, he beckoned the students to begin. "You have two hours. Impress me."

If you were in potions club last year lemme know

Show

Benedict Hunter Isobel Valenduris Scallion Escher Paxton Fudge Abraxas Crabbe Sybille Lukeson Charles Whymper Emma Flitwick Nicodemus Dursley Nicodemus Zabini Harmony Gambol @'Hesper Gamp @'Sirius Black' Flora Mulciber

  

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Bee is amazing

While the dungeons that housed the potions classroom were cold Sybille found a comfort there. Strange as that might be from the girl who loved sunshine and the warmth of an oven as it baked a treat. And yet Potions had been where she could find solace when baking had been taken from her. It held the same exactness, the same need for intention as baking, perhaps more so if Professor Valenduris's note on the board weren't taken into account. And so Sybille gathered her ingredients, cringing as she recalled her own visit to the hospital wing after the ill fated Mr. Barrow's attempts at the potion.

Concentrating on the task at hand Sybille reviewed her notes, following them, concentrating at each step with what she wanted the potion to do. A blissful slumber, a dreamless, worriless landscape where one could escape. As she did so she carefully sliced the valerian root as instructed and ensured to closely follow the directions. Much like with baking one wrong or skipped direction could ruin the whole thing.

  

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She wasn't sure if having her grandfather as her professor for her N.E.W.T. class was a good or a bad thing. It was hard to not fall into the familiarity in which she treated him at home or in private. And it always felt like he was harder on her than everyone else.

When he dismissed them to start, she pulled out her book to consult occasionally. She felt as if she remembered well enough from last year but it didn't hurt to double check.
""

she is in the club

  

Nicodemus generally enjoyed Potions. When they were bid to begin, he got his ingredients together. He sliced his valerian as had been lectured into them earlier and got started on the rest.

is in the club!

  

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set by Lady!

Paxton gathered up the ingredients needed for the Draught of Slumber. Setting his workstation up, he got started. He did his best to be particularly precise as he did not relish a trip to the Hospital Wing.

is in the club!

  

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set by Bee!

Potions with high stakes was probably a very bad thing for someone like Charles, who was already pretty tightly wound, but he wanted to be a healer, and a certain level of potions mastery was needed for that, so here he was. He collected his ingredients and began working, being extra careful.

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