The Storm | Regulus Black

The Draught of Living Death

Agatha Drusilla Burke was progressively getting more annoyed. She had arrived late to her second lesson on the 5th of September, Potions. Fortunately Professor Slughorn adored her, he had only been glad that she had shown up in the first place. She had sat herself down on the only place empty, next to Black. This turned out to be the biggest mistake she had ever made. The two of them had been assigned the Draught of Living Death that day, and were in the middle of an intense debate on which way to stir the concoction. The rest of the classroom were making their own potions in a horrible silence as they listened.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Agatha grabbed the stirring instrument before he could start stirring.

"No?" He held on to the stick as hard as he could as she tried to pull it away from him. "Everyone is knowledgeable of the fact that if you stir counter-clockwise the results come faster!"

"The instructions say clockwise, dyslexic much?"

"I'm sure you must have some sort of perceptual impairment since you cannot understand what I'm saying," he spoke slowly and articulatively.

People around the classroom chuckled. Everyone knew that they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye which made the situation even more entertaining.

She smirked. "I got a two percent higher average in my O.W.L's, we both know that what your saying is incorrect."

He chuckled darkly. "Not in Potions."

She pulled again but he didn't budge. "The contents of this years book weren't even in that exam you halfwit," she seethed.

"Yes, but the whole matter proves that I'm far more qualified in the subject than you are," he smiled.

"Not in common sense, I dare say."

People around the class chuckled again.

"Yes, you dare say." His expression became innocent and he spoke somewhat softly, as if consoling her, "However your fright of being wrong doesn't let you admit you are—"

She cut him off, "Says you."

"Well—"

"Why are you two even fighting about this? It's the same potion whichever way you stir it," Evan said with a dumbfounded expression.

They stared at him for a few moments, the both of them holding the stick tightly.

Regulus turned back to look down at her with an eyebrow raised suggestively and started speaking with a smooth, cold tone, "Precisely, why not just use my way, for research?"

"Why do you need research on it if you already think it's true?"

"They research Dragon Pox, it's real."

"That's because it's an illness you donce!"

The class chuckled.

"The majority of the class is already halfway done and we're standing here, quarrelling about which way to stir it."

"Exactly, let us use my way. It's safe, can't go wrong."

"If we use my way we'll catch up with the rest of the class," Regulus suggested.

"Your way is unsafe."

"Your way is stupid."

Then she had an idea that would put him in an awkward position. "I am a woman," she pointed at him with narrowed eyes.

"Really? I hadn't noticed—" he raised his eyebrows as if surprised.

"Don't you support women—" she suddenly gasped loudly. She just needed him to get detention, loosen his grip of the instrument, something, anything.