First Years

       "Come on, Mother..."
       "Let your mother preen, Weyland. This is how she sends off those she cares about."

       Summer of 1898, the Stephald household line up outside along the porch as April Stephald, Garland's lifelong sweetheart, prepares them for their trip to Hogwarts. Cousland and Weyland, secondborn twins, were recently invited to Hogwarts as first years. Their older sister, May, was going into her second year. And Garland, who just last year won a potion-making tournament, managed to secure the position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts.

       "Ugh..." an exacerbated Weyland said as his mother evened out his jacket and nitpicked around, pulling small bits of lint off his clothes. Garland gave him a stink eye for the rude scoff, one Weyland could feel. He turned his head and saw the draconic glare of his father that seemed to shoot through his skull, a stare he mastered some time after going through the animagus ritual sometime ago. It reminded Weyland of his first encounter with Kraekisvatn and the same stare of interest he gave in the presence of a new being. He knew Father regularly deployed this tactic of abusing his animagus psychology whenever any of them stepped out of line. In spite of his gentile nature with his children, he still took advantage of the social dynamics between dragons and humans as a tool to assist in his parental duties. Knowing one caught the eye of a dragon could make anyone go pale. Fearsome creatures, they were. But that was beside the point. Weyland stepped out of line and he knew it.

       "sorry..." Weyland said as he dropped his head. May rolled her eyes and shook her head. April suddenly stood back and held her hands up, detecting the growing frustrations of her nitpicking in her children. "Nononononono, you're right Son! I'm doing it again and I shouldn't." April shifted over to her husband to give him affection. But once she was there, she fought another urge to pick as his curly locks and brush his ponytail dangling off the lower part of his neck. Garland smirked knowing what was going through her head and pulled her into a quick hug and kiss.

       April then held his face and looked into his eyes, "They are in your care, Love. I want them back here the same way they leave, savvy?" Garland gave a dumb grin and said, "I'll make sure to obliviate everything they learned before we return. Don't you worry."
       "Ha-bloody-ha!", she said sarcastically before they kissed again.
       "Have fun in your first week the Ministry, Love. Don't kill your charges", Garland said rubbing her shoulders.
       "If my charges don't run from me. Especially the small prey animagi. Its hard to resist hunting them", she retorted with a smirk.
       "That's because your job is fun, Love."
       April rolled her eyes, "Great Merlin! You couldn't even imagine... but yes. Less talon, more talking!"

       He chuckled and then turned to the children. "Well, I suppose we should be going then. Gather your things. We are going to Diagon Alley through the portkey."The twins' jaws dropped, disappointed at the news. "I thought we were going to fly on dragonback!" Garland was about to respond when May interjected, "Do you two not remember? Father got in trouble with the Ministry last time! Mother had to file so much paperwork because of a few muggles!" Cousland turned to May, surprised, "Wait, really?"
       "Yes, you git!"
       "Cousland, Weyland, your father toiled to make the portkey-", April reminded the children, "so it would be a bit disrespectful to let his work go to waste. You would also save your mother more paperwork in the process. Eh?"

       And there it is, Respect. Mother's special word to keep everyone in line. She would mention it every time one of the three acted up, because they all knew her temperament towards disrespect. The twins and May all straightened up now that both parents were engaged with their behavior. Garland gave April one more kiss before the four headed to the fountain near their home and set off to the Leaky Cauldron.

       The fountain was fairly large and ornate, one of their father's creative projects magically molded from marble and stone, with a seating space that encircled the base and a grating that encircled it just a few feet out. They sat upon the polished marble, careful not to get their robes in the water. "Alright, everyone! Cases on your lap, toes inside of the grates, and stay still. This ride should be quick and smooth", Garland stated as everyone clutched their belongings. He pulled out a knut from his pocket and flicked it over his shoulder with a soft, whirling ping. Once the coin hit the water, the fountain began to rumble as water squirt out from the many holes that lined the top bowl of the fountain, arching over the four until it disappeared into the grating like an encasing curtain.

       The space in the fountain suddenly felt like it was beginning to melt as the outside seemed to wash away with the distorting curtain, revealing something green that surrounded the fountain. Before they knew it, the distortions stopped. The watery curtain stopped and slipped into the grate like a bubble popped and the four found themselves surrounded by high shrubbery. "Whoa!" Cousland looked around at the new environment in amazement, jerking his head every which way. They were obviously far from home.

       May and Weyland got up and started to leave when they noticed their father waving his wand over the wter, dredging up the many coins that were tossed into it. He felt the stares and looked over saying, "What? I'm cleaning it!" "We're not complaining, Father. Quite brilliant a scheme, actually", May said. The coins drifted around in the air as Garland counted them, "Ah, yes! Its one of my three avenues of income. Besides potions and ingredients, I commission these fountains that act as portkeys for me and me alone. So any sod that comes through wanting to make a wish puts money directly into my pocket. And before you ask, yes, your father is smarmy." "We're not complaining", she repeated, "However, you're bribing us with sweets to keep shut about it." Garland looked over his shoulder with a snarky expression, "I'm holding you to that, May, or I'll tie your beak up myself."

       After a brief stint to Sugarplums', they headed over to Flourish and Blott's for supplies. Weyland and Cousland spent most of the time distracted by the numerous books available while May was busy looking over a modified list of books required for second years. Then she came to a singular entry that made her curious. "Father, why do I need a blank hardback book?" She asked him as he browsed the shelves next to her. "You know that book your mother and I asked you never touch? My special Potions Book?" He snapped his finger and conjured the very book in question from thin air, "You three are making your own."

       "Oh? That seem like a rather interesting way to teach potions, Father."
       "Anyone can follow a recipe from a book. But no potion compares to one that is yours because the raw knowledge and experience you put into your work translates into the final, often superior product. That blank book is going to collect it all and it will be your best friend going forward. So pick one you like." "Is this something you learned from alchemy?", she inquired. Garland nodded. May turned back to the shelf of blank hardbacks with a seemingly renewed vigour and said, "I may just like Potions class this year."

       Later that day, as the sun was heading down towards the Horizon, the four with supplies in hand waited at the nearby trainstop for the Hogwart's Express to arrive. There were many other students waiting to board, as well as other teachers wandering about getting to know their classmates. And while he should have been doing the same, Garland elected to remain with his children. "So! Something very important to know before we head over to Hogwarts!" he bellowed, gesturing the three towards him, "Once we step onto that train, I cease being your father and become your Potions Professor. You will address me as such, savvy? You three are not allowed in the Professor's car, as much as I would rather us be under the same board, so don't let me catch you in there. Secondly... Cousland, Weyland. You two are first years so you will be in the First Year car. Your sister will be in the Second Year car."
       "Why are they separating us by years?" Cousland asked.
       "They want us to socialize with our own classmates", May responded.
       "Sorry, lad!" Garland added.

       Later, the four boarded the Hogwarts Express and Garland escorted his children to their cars. Cousland and Weyland settled into a car as their father watched, standing in the doorway. The train was just starting to move with the windows vibrating from the various people waving their family members off. "Within the next hour they'll serve dinner. Get something substantial. The sugar trolley also occasionally comes through with treats. That being said, I have left each of you some coin. Don't waste it all on the trolley, alright?" Cousland and Weyland paused for a fraction of a second to remember what father talked about at the station before answering him, "Yes, Professor!" With a nod, Garland took May to her car, "See you two in class."
       
       
       

Greetings, students. Welcome to First Year Potions. I am your teacher, Professor Stephald, and you will be learning one of the most ludicrous professions in existence. By the end of your fifth year at Hogwarts, should you seriously apply yourself to this craft, you'll be able to brew and bottle concepts perhaps more potent than your spells. But this craft is also very dangerous. One mistaken stir, one poorly prepared ingredient, could turn medicine into a toxic cloud. Or... an explosive. Or a worthless, stinky soup. Which is why, at minimum, I expect you to follow instructions whether they are given by me or the books you were asked to acquire, should you wish to pass. However... those wishing to excel in my class will find it wise to rely heavily on the blank hardbacks you have with you. The reason being...

Every great potioneer has their own potions book. And within these one-of-a-kind books lies insight one will never find in the mass produced paperweights laying on a bookshelf in a book shoppe. [Magical Drafts and Potions slapping the table] Not to undermine the efforts of those who have contributed to these books, of course. But simply following the instructions of a past potioneer will not earn you distinction. Which is why, in conjunction with teaching you potions, I am going to teach you how to be a potioneer. You will come to understand that every single class you take here at Hogwarts... except Divination and maybe Astrology... will provide you skills that you will put into practice in this very classroom. As such, I will warn you now that those planning to choose Potions as one of their N.E.W.T.s will find the requirements steep. So I implore you to strive for Exceeds Expectations in everything you do at Hogwarts... except Divination and Astrology. [students chuckling]

Each assignment you will be doing in this class will span a week. It should give you enough time to brew something of your own. Your first lesson, we will be learning proper techniques and habits by crafting a potion that requires exactly one ingredient. Ah- put your books down. You will be taking this lesson blind and using your blank book to record what you learn. Now... if you could line up here! Grab a dish and get a nice scoop of Umcebo Pits from that cauldron, if you would! Points to anyone who can correctly guess their place of origin!

You're not going to find the answer in any of your books, Mr. Esther.

       
       
       

       The students grouped up into pairs and prepared the pits in every conceivable way for the following hour under the purposefully minimal tutelage of their teacher. And while most felt adrift, there were some instances of change to the contents of a few of the cauldrons, which livened up those who were paying attention. Cousland and Weyland paced around their station consulting their creativity as their results have been less than sufficient.

       "Ugh, Father is a menace! He just threw the entire class to the wolves! I can't find anything in this book!" An exacerbated Weyland said as he flipped to various parts of his Potions Book in search of any hint that could help them. But the book mentioned nothing of the bulbous nut. Cousland was fairly calm, however. Lost in his thoughts, filled with energy and eager to tackle the mystery presented to them. "Do you have any idea, Cousland?" his brother asked.

       Cousland stopped pacing and opened up his blank book just past the first page, grabbing his quill to jot down some notes. Weyland curiously looked over his shoulder and found his brother listing their past attempts and their failed results in detail. "What are you doing?" Weyland asked. "Trying to put what we already know in perspective. See... if the pits had any reaction, we could try to modify the recipe from-"

       Weyland put a pit on the countertop and slammed the mortar on it, shattering the hard casing and slightly crushing the cerulean flesh within. "Uh-" Cousland bleated. "We have not tried taking the pits apart. Here...", Weyland said as he handed his brother the pieces of black shell, "Do something with this."
       "And what are you going to do?" Cousland asked as he poured the shell into a dish.
       "Think like father", he replied bluntly. Weyland brushed the pit flesh into the pestle and proceeded bashing it into a paste with the mortar. Once in the cauldron, he observed the bubbling cauldron produce a subtle mist and picked up the ladle. "Eeeeehhhh... let's try counter-clockwise", he grasped the handle and dipped the ladle into the liquid, stirring counterclockwise carefully. The mist seemed to collect in the pot and thicken. Cousland noticed a reaction within the cauldron and quickly went to his brother's book to record what he saw. It wasn't long until the mist poured over the sides. "Stir.... twelve. Counter-clockwise", Weyland said to his brother who immediately wrote it down.

       Professor Stephald walked over to the misty cauldron and hovered for a quick moment as he inspected the contents, leaning just a bit more to glance at the page that was gradually filling with quill scratchings. "Aha! You're taking advantage of your book and getting results! Fine work." he said, just loud enough to catch the attention of the rest of the class. Some of the students took the hint and started scratching on their blank books.

       The Professor drifted around the classroom covertly inspecting the notes being scrawled upon them as the twins continued with their discovery. Some time later, a sudden pang off a hanging cauldron caught the class' attention. Professor Stephald waved his wand through the air, leaving a sandy trail that swirled throughout the classroom until it embraced each of their cauldrons. All of the cauldrons started hovering off their stands and then disappeared, leaving some students dispirited at their incomplete works. "Sorry to interrupt, but class has concluded for today! We will continue tomorrow, same time! You will remain with your pairing and the station you are using will be yours throughout the year! I will also be holding optional workshops in the evening after classes, should you wish to get extra credit! Before you leave, please sign the inside of the cover of your personal potions book with your name and leave them with me! I will be holding them for safekeeping and inspecting them regularly!"

       The twins filed out along with the rest of the students and headed into herbology. There Professor Garlick introduced everyone to each of the plants they would be covering that year and going over the various tool they would be using throughout the year. Cousland spent a good portion of the class soured by the dragonhide gloves they used to handle bubotubers, as his pair were from a green welsh dragon, Father's animagus animal. Weyland, however, was distracted by the herbology books they were assigned. He had a good feeling that Potions Class was being taught like it was on purpose and that Professor Stephald laid out the instructions plainly from the very start.

"You will come to understand that every single class you take here at Hogwarts... will provide you skills that you will put into practice in this very classroom."

       Nobody could find anything on Umcebo Pits in the potion books. But herbology books on the otherhand... "Cousland! I found it! Here!" Weyland said giddily. Cousland leaned over to read the entry Weyland's finger was on.

       "The 'Tree of Bounty' is a softwood tree that grows in the northern parts of Africa near springs within the Sahara Desert and in the drylands just south of the equator. Easily domesticated, each part of the Tree of Bounty has a use in everything from creating natural polishes, to fibre, to food, to mild potion ingredients. The fruit in particular, contains a large pit called an Umcebo, or "Treasure", which is a featured ingredient in many potions native to Africa. Many preparation techniques can be applied to the seed to create potions and is one of the few articles in the world that can produce single-ingredient potions. The many uses of this tree's products is what has earned its name as the Tree of Bounty."

       The twins looked at each other with a smile, knowing they have won one of Father's little games and were ready for another day of potions.