Potions Lesson | August 12

The potions wing is buzzing with students eager for the first day of class. Nobody had seen the potions wing since the big explosion last semester, and it had been undergoing renovation since. They filed into the main room, sitting at rows of lab benches populated with shiny brass cauldrons and gas fire stoves. Next door is the advanced potions lab, for potions majors, slightly smaller with a similar layout. Ingredients are kept in the stockroom at the back, where a locked metal cabinet labeled "DANGER: KEEP FIRE AWAY" towers in the corner.

At the front of the main lab is an elevated stage, upon which sits a short wooden table covered by a soft colourful blanket. Next to it is a crystal cauldron for demonstration purposes, as well as a rack of vials and knives. The professor leans against the stage, happily chatting with students sitting at the front, oblivious to the rest of the classroom that is steadily filling up. She has dark skin and curly hair that is starting to gray, hanging loosely at her shoulders. Dressed in bright yellow robes and wearing lots of long beaded jewelry, she looked as if she had just come from Woodstock. But maybe a few years too late.

The bell rings. She waves it off and continues chatting until they reach an appropriate stopping point. She sighs and elects to roll onto the 3-foot platform rather than take the few stairs, revealing her bare feet. Brushing off her brightly coloured robes, she sighs and introduces herself.

"Hello aspiring daffodils, my name is Professor Khalyn Wilson," she says in a high airy voice. There is a somewhat distracted quality to the way she talks. "Welcome to potions. My hope is that by the end of this class, you will have learned how to brew a basic cure for boils or developing solution. But if not, that is totally fine. Potions is more about the journey than the destination."

The students murmur at her seemingly lackadaisical approach to teaching. It’s pretty obvious how the potions lab exploded last year. "There is no syllabus for this class, as I understand that everyone learns at their own pace," she nods her head in understanding and her rainbow earrings jingle. "Instead, I have a list of potions of varying difficulty that you are welcome to try throughout the semester. It will be posted next to the stockroom. The procedures should be in your books, and you are welcome to come to me for guidance, be it potions or otherwise." She extracts a roll of parchment out of a cloth satchel covered in tassels and magics it onto the wall.

"Now, for the next hour, please ignore everything I just said. Dean Richard has a special assignment for this first class." She smiles warmly and hops down from the stage. "Please meet my assistant Harvey."

A boy in his mid-twenties steps forth from the side of the room. How could nobody have noticed him before? He is burly and imposing and looks as if the thought of a smile had never crossed his mind, in stark contrast to this hippie trainwreck teaching the class.

"All 6th through 9th graders as well as non-potions majors, Harvey will be teaching you the proper method for cutting bezoars,” she pauses, “.. though in the end it doesn't really matter. In the end, nothing really matters." Professor Wilson pats him on the back; Harvey doesn't react. Stone cold. "The rest of you, come with me.." Professor Wilson waltzes into the advanced potions lab, and the students follow.

"First of all, congratulations on selecting the best major ever!" She waves her wand and a flurry of sparks erupt. Probably not a good idea next to the KEEP FIRE AWAY cabinet. Whatever. "Dean Richard wants me to teach you butterflies how to brew wolfsbane. Something about budget cuts and lack of adequate breweries.. complicated bureaucracy business. Or should I say brew-eaucracy business.." The class erupts with laughter. That was hilarious!

She steps up to the demonstration table and summons platters of wolfsbane ingredients to every bench. "First, we need to--oh, hold on." She reluctantly removes her jewelry piece by piece, grumbling things like "stupid regulatory policies" and "bureaucratic nonsense" and "just a tiny little explosion." As she slips on a pair of closed-toed shoes, she perks up. "Oh, I should probably mention that any werewolf students may want to wear protective gloves. There should be some in the stockroom." A few students wearing red armbands head to the stockroom and return with gloves.

"Wolfsbane is a tricky little potion that requires a lot of care to brew. The main ingredient, wolfsbane, also known as aconite or monkshood, is lethally toxic at the leaves, especially for werewolves, but the flowers and roots are particularly useful for potion making. For our potion, we will be using the flowers," she plucks a beautiful blue flower and sniffs it. "They are also particularly delicious when baked into vanilla shortbread."

"The recipe for Wolfsbane potion should be near the end of your textbooks. A few pointers: I would recommend cutting the flowers early and letting them sit to dry before adding them to your cauldron. Additionally, you'll find the fig leaves yield better results when fresh, but the figs give more juice when they have been left to sit and are crushed rather than cut. The gastronomic extract should smell pungent, like it has spoiled, or else it has spoiled, however the final wolfsbane potion should be odorless, with wisps of blue smoke coming off the top. Don't forget to watch your flames! And as always, I am here to guide you."

The students begin brewing their potion, and for the next hour and a half, Professor Wilson wanders between benches, nodding in encouragement and doling out tips and tricks and general life advice. "Well done!" "Fantastic form!" "That bezoar is delicious when roasted with a dash of basil and paprika."

Harvey spends the entire class seriously assisting teaching and not smiling.

By the end of the two hours, the students' cauldrons contain varied results, from black sludge to beautifully smoking blue liquids, but they all elicit the same "Wonderful, wonderful, life is wonderful" reaction from Professor Wilson. Everyone leaves not really knowing if they learned anything, but feeling generally better about their lives as a whole.