The Theory of Magic (Book 1)

22 // Biros & a Brilliant Boy

Fi sat cross-legged on her desk and watched four cauldrons bubble.

She found it funny despite herself that the quality of the liquid being brewed degraded as one slid along the line of desks. The Forgetfulness Potion was meant to be a very light green with a thin mist gathered about the top of it. Granger had managed the potion perfectly, while Harry's was just a shade off, his mist billowing like the cap of a mushroom. Hmm.

"A drop too much Lethe River water, Mr. Potter."

He frowned, the cauldron's firelight reflecting off the mended glass of his spectacles. "I added two like you said." He spoke quietly and without challenge, inquiring rather than refuting. Fi hummed in thought and tipped her hand.

"Inspect your dropper against Miss Granger's. You always want to make sure your tools are in proper, working order."

Harry moved from his desk to Hermione's to do just that. Weasley's potion had taken on a curdled texture reminiscent of old milk. The color didn't add to the appeal.

"You didn't crush the mistletoe berries, Mr. Weasley."

Ron pressed his lips together and flushed. Fi could tell by looking at his clean mortar and pestle that he hadn't done the work right.

Finally, at the end of the row, Longbottom's cauldron seethed with a vile smelling concoction glowing green like the toxic waste Muggles moaned about. Fi wasn't actually certain where the poor boy had gone wrong, and so she sat in silent contemplation, frowning, staring at the mess and trying to puzzle through the anomaly. Longbottom looked close to fainting. Granger had confessed to Fi that she'd bullied Neville into attending tutoring, because the boy was almost as terrified of the hedge witch as he was of Snape.

Well, that just won't do.

"Mr. Longbottom—." Neville tensed, waiting for the hammer to fall. "Could you walk me through exactly what you did? Let's see if you can spot your mistake."

He started to explain as the others watched on, stuttering and staring at the cauldron and its filmy ooze. When he got to the part about the mistletoe berries, Longbottom froze and straightened, round face paling as his eyes darted to the mortar half-hidden by his potions kit. Inside, the berries had been crushed—but he'd forgotten to add them entirely.

"Ah, well," Fi sighed, Vanishing the mixture with a quick flick of her wrist. "I think it would help for you to organize your workstation, Mr. Longbottom. I believe you missed your mistletoe because your mortar was out of sight. It's quite alright, don't fuss. The best potioneers can be fooled by their own memory. Next time, read your directions, then line your needed ingredients up in plain sight."

Neville said nothing, but he did give a glum nod as he stared at his desk, red in the face.

Fi rose and approached the others to better examine their work, judging the consistency by ladling the potion out and back into the waiting cauldrons. She pointed out to Weasley exactly how the lack adjustment to his berries had changed his mixture and what those changes meant to its efficacy, though she got the general impression from his glazed blue eyes that Ron really didn't have much interest in potion brewing. She moved on to Potter, and as she spoke he began to take notes. Fi glanced down.

"Harry—Mr. Potter, your handwriting is atrocious," she said, earning a snort from Ron and a blush from Harry. He lifted his quill from the ink splattered parchment. "Don't throttle the quill like that. Hold it like you would one of those—." Fi's hands fluttered, grasping for a word she only vaguely remembered. "Burros."

"Biros," Granger supplied.

"Exactly right." Fi nodded. She took Potter's small hand in hers, registered the slight flinch, and readjusted his fingers, changing the angle of his hand. "Like that. Use a light pressure now, you don't have to press quite so severely...there. Dip the quill now—mind the excess! Clean the edge on the lip of the inkwell. Well, now your quill just has a poor edge to it. Where's your knife...?"