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✷ Chapter Three, Potions Class ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
POTIONS CLASS WAS A SCAM.
In the dimly lit potions classroom, Capella Lestrange occupied a space behind an ancient work desk, her silhouette casting a shadow over the worn pages of her Advanced Potions textbook.
The air was thick with the scent of magical ingredients and the hushed murmurs of students engrossed in their potions. The once vibrant pages, now fragile and flaky, demanded a delicate touch as Capella etched her observations, a task which required much precision as the pages were as old as Dumbledore.
Beside her, Regulus Black, seemingly unaffected by the aged ambiance, stood with an annoyingly perfect posture. His deft fingers moved effortlessly, plucking the perfect feather of a pheasant for the Draught of Affection, a love potion that held secrets and promises within its subtle brew. Capella's gaze, a mix of acknowledgment and irritation, flickered towards him.
In the alchemical room, the flickering candlelight reflected off glass vials, and the ambiance resonated with the whispered incantations and the rustle of delicate pages.
"Dearest students," Professor Slughorn announced, the timbre of his voice carrying a blend of warmth and anticipation as he tapped his wand against a beaker. The echo of the metallic tap resonated through the potions classroom, swiftly capturing the attention of every student within its walls. "We shall now commence the exciting part of this alchemical journey. Please take out your wands."
Capella, with an eyeroll that could rival a thunderstorm, retrieved her wand. The subtle twist of her lips hinted at the skepticism she harbored for what lay ahead. As wands emerged from various pockets and robes, the atmosphere shifted, charged with the promise of magical experimentation.
The classroom, bathed in the soft glow of enchanted lanterns, became a stage for the students to weave their spells into the intricate dance of potion-making, under the watchful guidance of Professor Slughorn, whose enthusiasm Capella met with a raised eyebrow and a muttered, "Just what we needed."
"Hold your wand at a 75° angle, with a firm grip, and murmur the incantation. Please cast the following; Recantus Relectif!" Professor Slughorn's instructions resonated through the potions classroom, his precise enunciation guiding the students into the delicate dance of magical precision.
Capella, with a half-amused smirk, held her wand at the prescribed angle. Her grip was indeed firm, perhaps a tad too much. As the incantation escaped her lips, it carried a hint of skepticism, an unspoken challenge to the magical command.
"This class is easy as hexing a first year. Why are we learning stuff we could learn in the regular potions class," Capella muttered, her voice carrying an air of nonchalant dismissal. As the incantation left her lips, there was an undeniable confidence in her magical prowess.
