The Red Rose That Has Green Thorns

We learned something that peaked interest in Potions, next class.

“The last week of term before your Christmas break,” Professor Platt announced, “we will be brewing the most powerful love potion in the world.”

Several of the other girls squealed, and Professor Platt rolled her eyes. I grinned at her actions, and listened as she continued, “It’s not because I want you to know how to brew it, or to use it, but because Amortentia is a very difficult potion to brew. It’s just the type of thing we need to be brewing here in your seventh year N.E.W.T. class, right?”

She usually made the potions right along with us, Professor Platt did. She would partner someone if their normal partner was gone for a day, and would give the other person full marks as long as they turned in a paper on the potion they’d missed out on brewing. Not much ever went seriously wrong in her classes because of this. A few first years still manage to melt their cauldrons, but that’s to be expected. I remember stories of Mum and Dad’s about Neville melting a whole bunch of cauldrons in his days in Potions class. They would always tell them with the melancholy sort of grins they got when they were remembering the good ol’ days. As grandparents would say.

“Anyway,” Professor Platt continued, forcing her voice above all others and jerking me out of my reverie, “that was all I had wanted to tell you. I’ll give you a free day - but I suggest you use it to start on your essays.”

“Essays?” Mayella Boot asked, apprehensively.

“Oh. Right. I have to assign them first,” she grinned in a way that let me know she’d done it on purpose to see if we were focused enough to notice. “You’re each going to be expected to have a foot - each - on three of the different uses of Dragon’s Blood in potion making. They are due to me by next Wednesday. That gives you five days, not counting today. Those of you in the Exhibition had better get started now. I’m only giving my younger students who are involved an extra day on their assignments.”

“So cruel,” someone joked, and Professor Platt just grinned.

“You’ve all gotten used to heavy workloads by now, though, I trust?” she responded with a smirk.

A little bit of laughter spread throughout the room - which was no longer located in the dungeons, actually, but on the only semi-cool (instead of freezing cold, in the winter) first floor. This was mostly because Professor Platt didn’t like the dungeons…they freaked her out.

It had been double Potions, and Scorpius and I had completely finished two of the three essays - on different uses, of course! We did converse throughout, though, giving each other ideas and revising each other’s work. Like we usually did. And it worked like a charm! Did you know that you can use Dragon blood to cure a disease, if you mix it with Wolfsbane, and a powdered bezoar? It's really curious, the process, and highly difficult, but it's also highly beneficial.

And anyway, the bell had just rung, and we were the last ones to leave aside from Professor Platt, who had noticed we were still there and asked use to hang back for just a few moments, to wait for her.

“It’s embarrassing to admit,” she told us as I put my last thing away and she started walking toward us, “but I just don’t like walking alone. It’s…I don’t know. It's a really childish thing to be wary of, but it's true. I don't like walking along. But the more, the merrier, supposedly. And thank you for waiting.”

“It’s nothing, Professor,” I smiled at her, Scorpius and I waiting by the door for her to catch up so we could go down to dinner in the Great Hall. And soon after that, the Triwizard Champions would be chosen.