Lesson II for Intermediates (3rd-5th Years) on Potions

Professor Fawcett

December 05, 2012 8:13 PM

Lesson II for Intermediates (3rd-5th Years) by Professor Fawcett

John was distracted as he began one particular day of his Intermediate class, but he tried his best not to show it as the third, fourth, and fifth years trickled into the classroom, some, as always, more or less enthusiastically than others. He had never been a teacher who had held delusions of universal popularity, even among those students who had an innate knack for or personality inclined toward the subjects he taught. There was simply no way that one person could appeal to all people, as much as he supposed most sane people would wish to appeal to at least most who were under his authority for a certain amount of time from all their lives. He was a professor’s son as well as a professor, and had seen the truth of that in his own family of origin; as little as he liked being named after the object of his father’s lifelong obsession, he had always enjoyed listening to Ralph Fawcett talk about Milton, but his sister had never listened at all, and his brother claimed his miserable English grades in high school and college had been a pure reaction to being named for Scott Fitzgerald.

His father was, once more, the cause for his distraction; according to the letter he had received from his mother, the old man wasn’t doing well at all. It was, of course, to be expected – his father was remarkably old for a Muggle, enough that he had been interviewed on local television, in the small town where he and John’s mother now lived, on his last two birthdays and that John wondered if he didn’t have some dormant magical blood himself, somewhere down the line – but not a pleasant thing to hear of with his breakfast, not at all, especially after he had seemed to bounce back over the winter.

John knew he would recover his focus on his classes today, most likely before this one was over, but he hoped the students did not notice until then, lest they become unmanageable. Intermediates, particularly the third and fifth years, could, under the intense pressure they were under as their exams drew closer, could boil over from time to time, and a lowered guard was the best way to bring it on. If they were going to blow up, he preferred that it not be in his classroom; he had, he knew, a certain reputation for maintaining an orderly room in an efficient manner, and did not wish to have it marred by a rash of discipline problems now.

“Good morning, class,” he said to the students, adjusting his glasses as he ticked the last name off the roll. “We will, as you should know from your syllabus, prepare a draught for a dreamless sleep ton – today, so if you could open your textbooks to page – “ he glanced down at his notes for the class – “382, quickly, please….”

As pages turned, he continued to speak. “As some of you may know, dreams occur during what is called rapid-eye motion, or REM, sleep, which everyone must have, in order to rest properly and continue to function. You may, then, be wondering why this potion would be of any use. In fact, the potion does not actually suppress dreams, but merely places the sleeper into a state where he or she is not troubled by them and does not remember them later. The connection to the memory potions we studied before midterm should be obvious.”

The books appeared to be open, so he rapped the blackboard with his wand, causing a list of ingredients to appear on the board. “For this potion, you will require – “ he touched the name of each ingredient with the tip of his pointer as he said its name – “powdered root of valerian, powdered moonstone, powdered spine of lionfish, three tablespoons of digitalis lutea, essence of passionflower, and a third of a unicorn tail hair. Add a counterclockwise stir after every fifteen clockwise stirs after adding the passionflower for best results. You may work with a neighbor, if you wish, you have one hour, and your time starts…now.”

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