I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.
Harvesting mandrakes was a shockingly disturbing process, considering how conservative the magical world tended to be.
After getting a spot of breakfast, Constance and Mihnea met with Professor Sprout as planned. She escorted them down to the greenhouse containing the assortment of plants they'd be working with. There were about thirty-seven pots in all, and they would have to pull the roots out of each and every one of them. Connie hadn't seen the mandrakes since that first lesson on them. Rather than the smaller pots they had dealt with, these things were nearly waist high. Mihnea had no problem with carrying his pots on his own, but Constance and Professor Sprout had to work together to carry theirs out of the greenhouse to set on the lawn outside. Once they had them arranged in a neat, straight line, Sprout began explaining how they would go about ripping out the roots without getting themselves killed.
Essentially, they had to dig around the roots just enough to loosen them up without actually exposing them, tie a rope just above the top of the root, then fasten the other end around their waists and run away from the pot as fast as possible. Sprout gave them specially fitted earplugs just for this purpose. The idea was that the sharp jerk of the rope being pulled would rip the mandrake out of it's pot and sever it from the top of the plant – which would 'kill' the root and prevent it from making any sound.
"Alright, now make sure you have your earplugs in good and tight before you start running." Sprout instructed. "As these roots are fully grown, hearing the smallest bit of sound will kill you."
That was an absolutely horrifying thought. This was the sort of thing that had to be done perfectly the first time. There would be no second chances. Both of them pushed the earplugs into their ears as tightly as possible, and Sprout gave a good yell to ensure they couldn't hear a thing. Once she was satisfied that all was in order, she put in her own set of earplugs and motioned for them to commence harvesting. Mihnea went first. He sprinted down the lawn and ripped the root of his pot right out, severing the top off perfectly. Constance had a bit more trouble. Even with loosening the earth around them, the roots strongly objected to being forcefully removed from their homes. One had to break into as fast of a run as possible to generate enough force to get the plant out. On her first try, Connie wound up struggling when she reached the end of her rope, straining to keep going forward. She did finally manage to pop the root out, but the top of the plant didn't sever completely. It was the scariest and saddest thing she'd ever seen. With it being only half attached to the top of it's plant, her root writhed around like it was in horrible pain before eventually going still like it was dead.
When they were finished pulling out all the mandrakes, Sprout explained what had happened.
"The roots live off the energy produced by the top of the plant." she told them. "If the upper part is severed quickly, the root expires without feeling any pain. When the top is only partially removed, it takes much longer for the root to die and it suffers much more."
Well, that was just lovely, wasn't it? This whole time they'd been murdering plant roots, and her first attempt had basically made the plant suffer a slow, painful death. That was a wonderful thing to have on one's conscious.
Needless to say, with the sheer size of the things, carrying thirty-seven mandrake roots into the castle was going to be a chore. Connie shoved as many as she could into her silver cauldron, and Mihnea stacked up the rest to carry in his arms. They were dense roots, and turned out to be quite heavy. When Snape showed up to take them down to the dungeons, the girl had to struggle to walk in a straight line while lugging around the huge, weighted down pot.
They got down to the Potions classroom, and Snape pointed to a place at the back of the room that was cleared out for them. There was a large round table set low to the ground with a hole cut in the middle to provide an opening for the flames that would heat the cauldron. Two low sitting chairs sat on either side and up against the wall was a cot that was raised up off the floor. Thank God. Constance thought the moment she saw it. They wouldn't have to worry about asking Snape about moving his furniture around so they would have a place to sleep.
He then gave them the instructions for brewing the potion. The mandrake roots had to be chopped up into small pieces and boiled for several hours until they changed from a rich brown color to a pale white. The root pieces would then be strained out and the process would continue with the same liquid until every last one of the roots had their essential properties boiled out of them. The process of chopping and boiling alone would take two full days. After this 'base decoction' was completed, the second phase of brewing would begin. This involved adding measured amounts powdered unicorn's horn and finely ground mastic every thirty minutes for a 72 hour period. The potion would then have to be kept just under a boil for 48 hours and given a good stir every fifteen minutes, then the process would start over again. After going through this cycle three times, they would then have to carefully watch the potion, letting it simmer until the liquid was reduced down to something milky white in color, with the thick consistency of honey. Following the recipe he gave them, the potion would take approximately 20 days to complete. It was no wonder the two of them had to stay near it at all times. It had to be watched constantly to ensure it remained at the right temperature. Even a small deviation of two or three degrees could be disastrous. The unicorn's horn and mastic had to be ground by hand, then added at precisely the same time. With it having to be stirred so often, they would have to sleep in shifts so someone would always be awake to perform the next required step.
They decided to focus on chopping up all of the roots first to get that unpleasant task out of the way. It would probably take all day with the number of plants they had, but it was best to just go ahead and do it all at once. Once they finished boiling them down and got to the more serious business of brewing, they'd work out a schedule for sleeping and breaks and such. Constance was very glad she'd brought all her new books along with her. Otherwise the waiting and stirring bit was going to be incredibly boring. The only thing about the whole situation she understood as being an 'advanced brewing technique' was the infusion of their personal magic into the potion as they went along. The mandrakes had to be harvested by them because they wouldn't function properly if they were touched by someone else's influence. The unicorn horn and mastic they used had to be thoroughly cleaned before they ground them up – to wash away the magical influence of anyone who had previously handled them. That sort of thing was probably a theoretical idea that wasn't covered in school. Something you had to learn through trial and error, or through an apprenticeship and many years of study with a master after completing the basics covered at Hogwarts.
"I'd be willing to bet money that Dumbledore talked to mom and uncle Edmund about this." Mihnea whispered to her as they were cutting up the first set of roots. They had to be quiet so they didn't disturb the fifth years who were working on their class assignments.
Connie's brows furrowed. It was an odd coincidence that Aunt Syn had sent her a cauldron that just happened to be made of the right material and was the perfect size for the task. Dumbledore knew they had been taking lessons on theories and practices like this since they were little, so it made sense that he would have taken steps to ensure they would be the ones to do it. Their parents knew how they were, so they probably figured the best way to keep them out of more serious situations was to provide the means for them to get involved in a different way.
You didn't really appreciate the pleasure of being able to go out and about to do things until you were confined to a single room for weeks on end. After eighteen days of living in the Potions classroom, Mihnea was about ready to shoot himself in the head. The students who came in for classes could simply do their assigned work, then leave. He and Connie had to stay put. He could tell his cousin was bored as well, but Potions was her niche. She loved doing it and that took the edge off for her. It probably helped that when her friends were in class, they would toss balled up scraps of parchment with messages written on them toward the back of the room so she could read them. But while he was good at Potions, it wasn't a subject he particularly fawned over. Being stuck within the same four walls all the time felt like being in jail. He did not like it. It made him nervous. The weekends were worse because no one came in to provide a distraction except for the times when Snape popped in to check on their progress.
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor." Constance commented, watching him pace back and forth. "There's only two days left, then we can get out of here."
It might actually be less than that, considering they were were down to the final reduction process. But after three weeks of being stuck in here, there would be only seven days until final exams. Even with excused absences, that was a lot of work to make up in such a short amount of time.
"They could have at least had someone send assignments down for us to work on." he said, still walking. "Making all this time up is going to be a nightmare. Do you know how much work I'm going to have to do in Rhabdomancy?"
The girl blinked. "Excuse me? What the hell is that?"
"It's a class in dowsing methods."
She blinked in confusion again. "Mihnea, why on earth are you taking a class in dowsing?" she questioned. "Couldn't you find anything you wanted by using your powers?"
He gave her a look. "Not everything." he told her. "I had to pick two extra classes third year, and it looked interesting."
It was also peaceful because hardly anyone took it. There were only five people in his class. The small amount of students seriously cut down on the level of noise.
His cousin took in the information and sniffed. "Well, at least we weren't petrified. Colin missed half of first term, and all of the second and third." she pointed out. "Everyone down in the hospital wing is probably going to have to work over the summer to make everything up." her shoulders lifted and fell in a small shrug. "It's better than having to go to Lockhart's class."
Good point. He thought. Mihnea glanced over at the cauldron positioned above the burners. Constance had been on watch duty for a while now, so it was probably getting close to time for him to take over. She wasn't the least bit resistant about giving up her job. After taking up a chair next to the table, he picked up his bag and dug through it. Damn it. His blood supply had run out, and he hadn't paid attention. Feeling like a caged animal made him forget small details like that.
"Hey, Pixie." he called out, seeing her curled up on top of one of the desks.
His cat didn't like being left by herself for long periods of time, so she had snuck down to the classroom not long after they'd holed up there. Since there wasn't much for her to do, she wound up sleeping a lot. The one time she bothered to get up and move around was when the house elves brought meals to them. Pixie was not about to give up her habit of begging for people's food. She lifted her head and looked at him.
"Go to the dorm and get the bag with the blood bottles in it." he instructed.
Pixie cocked her head to the side, then jumped down from the desk to run off. Once she was gone, Connie cleared her throat.
"This might sound really gross, but this whole smelling girls' blood thing..." she paused, looking uncomfortable. "I mean, does mine ever bother you?"
The boy made a face. That was definitely something he did not like thinking about just on principle.
"We're related, so it doesn't work the same way with you." he told her.
Thank god, because that would be an awful thing to deal with. Of course, he wasn't related to aunt Integra by blood, but his dad made it sound like being around someone for long periods of time – such as growing up in the same house with them since infancy – got him used to the smell, so it didn't affect him. Her not being a virgin helped considerably as well. Constance's expression changed to a momentary one of relief, then she studied him.
"George asked me to come to his house over the summer." she told him.
Mihnea paused, then glanced at her sideways. "Why are you telling me that?"
"Because I didn't want you to throw a fit when you found out about it later." she replied.
He didn't like it, but she was probably right. He would have been pissed if he hadn't known about it before hand. If she was telling him about this, it meant she was considering it.
"You're going to go, aren't you?"
"Well, I have to ask mom and dad about it first, but if they say it's alright, then yes. I'm going." she told him.
Mihnea took a deep breath. He'd already said his piece about the situation, and wasn't about to repeat himself. Connie knew full well how he felt about it.
"I'm not going to say anything." he said.
"Meaning you don't like it."
"I said I wasn't going to say anything." he replied a bit more forcefully than he intended. He noticed Constance arch a brow and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. "It's too fast."
"Too fast?" she asked, looking confused and irritated at the same time. "I thought I was moving pretty damn slow considering we've been dating for about six months, and we just recently kissed..."
The boy went very still and narrowed his eyes at her. That was completely unacceptable. Weasley was going to die and that was the end of it. He could put up with this whole 'dating' thing, but anything involving touching and kissing was out of the question.
"The second we get out of here, I'm going to kill him."
Connie's eyes went wide. "No, you're not!" she exclaimed. "I was the one who kissed him, so there's absolutely no reason why you should be mad at him."
He stared at her in horror. She had been the instigator? That was almost worse than Weasley doing it. Mihnea shook his head and held up a finger.
"Don't ever tell me about things like this." he told her. "I do not need to know. Ever."
If she was the one who initiated something, then he couldn't really get upset about someone taking advantage of her. But the knowledge of it wasn't something he wanted to have.
"Have you even told aunt Integra and uncle Ed about this... thing yet?" he asked.
His cousin narrowed her eyes at his choice of words. "Of course I have."
"And?"
The only reason he was asking was because he was curious as to what his aunt's reaction would be. Connie noticeably paused, thinking, then cleared her throat.
"Dad said that he wasn't surprised and was wondering when something like this would come up." she began. "And mom... well... she didn't say anything bad. Just that she would trust my judgment. But dad said something about her throwing a fit about 'being too young for this nonsense'."
Mihnea couldn't help it. One of his brows slowly traveled upward. "I could have told you that."
"She didn't mean me, idiot." Constance snapped. "Mom said that she was too young for it."
"Oh."
The boy suddenly got a mental image of his aunt going off on a long winded rant about how all the stress of getting older was giving her wrinkles and gray hair. Connie was probably going to be thoroughly interrogated when they got home.
Of course, aunt Integra wasn't the only one who was too young to be dealing with things like this. Mihnea was having trouble processing it as well. He hoped Pixie got back with his blood soon, because he was going to need a lot of it to get through the next two days.
A.N: From the legends I've read about the mandrake, the way Sprout instructs them to harvest the roots is a traditional method. Though, technically, you're supposed to tie the rope to a dog and let them do all the work, but the mandrake's cry would kill them. I didn't think Hogwarts would be very keen on killing thirty seven dogs to harvest a set of plants when there were special ear-plugs around. Cause, you know, Hagrid would throw a fit about that when he got out of jail, and emotionally distraught half-giants carrying pink umbrellas with mysterious magical properties aren't the safest sort of people to have around. :P
