If he ever became a potioneer, Regulus thought he might like to invent Felix Felicis, but for hope.
It would be golden in colour, not the showy splashy gold of Felix Felicis, but a soft pinkish gold. The colour of the early mornings when he would climb up onto the rooftop to join Sirius for the sunrise, and watch the purple bruises under his brother's eyes disappear in the morning glow.
Rosy-fingered Dawn.
It would smell like wildflowers covered in dew and taste like jam tarts. Its gentle warmth would spread through the body, bestowing strength and courage.
Liquid Hope.