Potion disaster

It was not a secret to anyone that Moire McLeoch's best subject was potions, which was why Professor Khan, her head of House, allowed her to assist while she taught her classes. Headmistress McGonagall, knowing fully well that the young Slytherin was the brightest potions student since perhaps Severus Snape himself, and that she wanted to be a potions master one day, had encouraged Professor Khan to let her do so, and her sixth and now seventh year were spent attending as many of Khan's younger classes as she could fit in her schedule. Moire welcomed the extra work, as it meant less studying for her potions NEWT, since she would be reviewing the materials from the past six years during her time in the classroom.

She had made sure to attend the third year Gryffindor-Slytherin double period to help poor Lily out, however, as much as she had tried to get the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff fifth years, Transfiguration had fallen squat in the middle of it, so she was stuck Gryffindor and Slytherin again, and with Twiddledee and Twiddledum whose smirks had reached their ears when she had walked into the room the first day.

"Is this our dear Quidditch captain, Albus?"

"Why yes, it is, Scorpius!"

"Potter, Malfoy, cut it out," she had hissed.

Now, a month into the school year, they still weren't making her life any easier. In fact, today, nobody was.

"Something smells good," Alice Longbottom had commented upon entering the classroom.

Everyone had agreed and started sniffing around, disregarding Professor Khan's instructions.

"Alright," the woman had finally exclaimed. "If you all finish up early today, I'll show you the potion."

Satisfied, the fifth years all sat down and agreed to cooperate and Moire could finally start walking around and comment on their potions.

Some were alright and needed only a bit of guidance.

"Creevey, Murtaugh, looking good but not quite the shade. Maybe turn your flame down a bit."

Some were just plain terrible.

"Nott, Goyle, the potion is supposed to turn green, not brown. Try adding a hawk feather and stir clockwise a couple of times until it's the right color. That's not clockwise!"

That one incident resulted in a lot of smoke and a few adjustments before the lesson was back on track.

"Weasley and Longbottom, nicely done."

She rolled her eyes when Albus mimicked putting a spider's eyeball in his mouth but did not say anything because, technically, their potion was perfect too.

They, however, all sped their work up, and their potions were bottled up and on the Professor's desk well before the end of the two-hour class. Eagerly, they followed Professor Khan with their eyes as she walked into the backroom and whispers erupted when she came out holding a cauldron.

"Moire, would you mind standing near the cauldron," she quietly indicated. "We've had… instances before where students have stolen some of the potion and used it on their crushes."

The seventh year nodded, remembering the stories she had heard at the Weasleys' involving chocolates and a bezoar, and stood next to the table, watching the potion like a hawk.

"This is Amortentia," Khan declared as she removed the lid and allowed the steam to spiral up. The students all leaned forward to take in the mother-of-pearl sheen and of course, the smell. "Be very careful, this is the most powerful love potion ever made. You aren't supposed to learn about this until next year, but I don't see the harm in it."

"It smells like chocolate frogs and lavender," Alice marveled. She also blushed a bit, obviously omitting a detail. She wasn't the only one. More than half of them sported red cheeks. She made a personal note to tease Malfoy and Potter later in the common rooms, as both looked like tomatoes.

"No, it smells like new books, Grandma Molly's treacle tart, and… sandalwood?" Rose argued, hesitating to grasp the last smell as the questioning frown on her face showed. It took her a second to realize what it was, and her neck and ears flared up.

"And that, children, is the last characteristic of Amortentia! To each person, it smells like their favorite smells. Everyone, take a second to see what that is."

Moire smiled and allowed herself to take a whiff. Just like last year, she could smell the Scottish moors and their wildflowers covered with dew at dawn, and the apothecary, with its dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and… Her smile turned into a confused expression as, instead of the McLeoch manor's centuries old library, another smell wiggled itself into her nose. Pine trees, with a hint of citrus, that seemed oddly familiar.

"Alright everyone, class dismissed. But I would like to take half a second to remind you all that love potions are forbidden within the walls of Hogwarts, with the exception of this very class, and to be brewed only by me. That will be all. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your day!"

oOo

"New ink, the fireplace, and…," Scorpius reluctantly admitted, muttering the last smell so no one understood it clearly.

"And? What was that, Scorpius, I didn't hear well," Moire smirked from above her cauldron. With a flick of her wand, she turned up her portable flame.

They were all enjoying the last few warm days outside, under a willow tree by the lake. The Giant Squid's tentacles could sometimes be seen coming out of the surface of the lake, so it could also soak up some sun.

"Roses," he grumbled. "Also, do you really have to make a potion here? If you asked Khan, she'd let you use the potion room, she practically worships the ground you walk on."

"I know, but half the ingredients aren't technically – hey Kenzie – allowed on Hogwarts grounds."

Her roommate sat down near her before scrunching her nose at the pungent smell coming from the potion and moving next to Albus.

"This is vile," McKenzie commented. "What's that, poison?"

"Acne fighting foundation."

"That's fucking genius."

"Yes, I think so too. Usually when you use foundation with the intention of hiding a few pimples, they get worse, so why hasn't someone tried this yet, I don't quite know. If I manage to make this work, it would be pretty sweet."

"Go back to the ingredients that aren't allowed in the school, how did you get those?" Albus asked, concerned.

"Some I grew at home and our house elf sends them to me every now and then, and the rest I got from your uncles Ron and George. They said they'd sell them to me half price if I agree to send them my cosmetics potions to sell at their store and I get forty percent of the profits on them."

"Forty? You are ruthless."

"I'm a McLeoch, we know how to do business. I even let them off easy. They already sell my eye color changing potions."

"Are you sure there's no side effects for that?"

"I tested it out myself, it's pretty safe."

"Is that why you walked around with one green eye and one grey eye for a week last year?" James joked, sitting down next to them. "Sweet Godric, what's that smell?"

"Acne fighting foundation. Fights pimples while hiding them. Pure genius," Kenzie summed up.

"Also, Scorpius fancies your cousin," Moire added, throwing some peppermint in the mix before scrunching her nose.

"I do not!"

"Yeah right. Amortentia never lies."

"Isn't Amortentia in the sixth-year curriculum?" James asked, somewhat confused.

"Yes, but these pricks refused to concentrate on their work until Khan promised to show them what smelled so good if they finished early. So here we are."

"I smelled roses because my mother happens to grow some in the garden."

"I've been to your house, she doesn't," Albus reminded.

"Sod off, Al. How about you, smelling Alice Longbottom's hair?"

"The plot thickens!" Moire announced. "And so does this potion…"

"What did you smell last year, James?"

"Let's see… the inside of Honeydukes, the smell of the air when I'm really high up on my broom, and… well that last part is none of your business," he finished, not looking ashamed or sheepish.

"Oh, just wait until I tell mum you fancy someone!" Al smirked.

"You have no proof, all I said was that it wasn't any of your business," the eldest shrugged.

"How about you, Moire?" Kenzie asked.

"The moors in the Highlands in the morning, the apothecary, and…"

"And?"

"Cinnamon."

She cursed herself for not saying the library as Kenzie threw her a skeptical gaze that after years of close friendship Moire could translate as 'liar', but she did not say anything. There was no doubt, however, that she would interrogate her quite thoroughly later that night. Soon, Albus and Scorpius excused themselves as they had to attend their transfiguration class. McKenzie remembered in a panic that she was not quite done with her assignment for Lupin's class in half an hour and she almost ran over a group of terrified first year Hufflepuffs. James remained, as they would both have to head over to the same Defense Against the Dark Arts class, along with McKenzie, granted she was done with her homework before the beginning of class. He stayed quiet for a while, a feat Moire thought impossible from anyone in Gryffindor.

"Well that was quite the lie, earlier. You could've just done like me and said that it wasn't for them to know. You don't really owe it to them."

"What are you talking about?" She asked, still focusing on her potion.

"That last Amortentia smell."

"I said it was cinnamon, Potter, I wasn't lying," the lass snapped, finally looking up.

"It couldn't have been," he calmly answered, looking at her too intensely for her own taste.

"And why not?" Moire – very – annoyedly asked, sending her potion to her room with one flick of her wand, her nose still buzzing so much from the strong smell of her potion that if someone had waved a skunk under her nose, she wouldn't be able to get a whiff of it.

"Because you hate cinnamon."

James had said it very matter-of-factly, as if it was something everyone just knew. It wasn't. Yes, she avoided cinnamon like the plague, but Hogwarts usually had so many things to choose from that she had always just disregarded the dishes that smelled like the blasted spice and picked something else. Because of that, she did not fell the need to exactly tell anyone. She wasn't even sure Emma, Erin, and Leah knew and they had lived in the same room since they were first years, and Kenzie probably only figured out she lied since she knew perfectly well how Moire's nostrils flared up a bit when she wasn't telling the truth.

But James, apparently, knew.

oOo

On Saturday morning, during breakfast, Moire untied the box and the letter from the big, grave looking owl standing near her before tying her own to his leg, giving him a treat, and scratching his head.

"Fly safe, Socrates!" She wished, sending him on his way.

"That owl looks like he's about to give me a lecture every time he sees me," Erin said, watching Socrates fly away.

"He is, undoubtedly, the Laird's owl," McKenzie solemnly declared, standing up, eyes closed, and hand on her heart. "Socrates is the only bird worthy enough of the Laird's poise and dignity."

"Aaaaand here we go," Moire sighed.

"The Laird does not sleep, he merely allows his mortal body to rest as it could not quite keep track with his brain and the knowledge it keeps," Emma pompously added, resuming the same stance as Kenzie.

"The Laird is no mere man, he is an immortal judge of the human character."

Heads were already turning around from the Slytherin table at their antics.

"A philosopher."

"A scholar."

"Oh, are we talking about the Laird? I have to listen to that," Albus delighted, sitting down near them.

"You all know my father has never claimed to be all that, right?" Moire commented, amused.

"We are aware, but your father is… your father."

True, her father was quite peculiar. He was a big, solemn looking man gifted with a strong moral compass, who was very particular with traditions, and with clear and concise ideas of what being a good wizard and ultimately a good person meant, and so was the rest of her family. Though the McLeoch clan was, as the Blacks and Malfoys were, a long line of Slytherins, and Pure Bloods for most, none had been sympathizers of Voldemort or even Grindelwald before him. They, instead, had deplored the vulgar turn their house had taken and the archaic beliefs they tried to spread.

"Please, do the voice," Scorpius begged.

"I am most definitely not doing the voice."

"Just once! C'mon, please!"

Almost failing to keep the smile in, Moire stood up and cleared her voice. Then, lowering it to a booming gruff tainted with the strongest Scottish accent she could muster, she said:

"Mind, lass, 'at us, McLeochs, hae led rebellions as baith wizards an' Scotts. We wear aer tartan wi' th' sam pride aer ancestors did. Honor, prime, an' excellence, 'tis was it means tae be a McLeoch!"

Moire, Kenzie, and Emma all collapsed on the bench laughing.

"You are all clinically insane," Scorpius mused. "But that did sound just like the Laird."

Still giggling, Moire checked her watch. It was still about nine thirty, so she had time to sneak a little morning flight. She excused herself and ran to her dorm to drop off her package (some of her mother's shortbread) and grab her broom (a brand-new Nimbus 3001, thank you very much, fastest broom on the market). The air outside was crisp and fresh and she took a second to appreciate her warm hoodie. Getting on her broom, she kicked off and smiled as the air slapped her face. She then started gaining altitude until he tips of her ears hurt and the goals on the Quidditch pitch looked like lollipops. Moire flew around there for a little before it got a bit too cold, then came back to a more reasonable height.

A half hour flew by quickly and she saw little red dots filling the pitch. Coming down, she was met with none other than James Potter, his hair already looking like he had flown at the full speed his broom could muster, and since it seemed like they had the same one, quite bloody fast. He ran a hand through it messing it up further and Moire remembered darker and more embarrassing times back in second year when she used to have a humongous crush on him and that gesture would drive her crazy. She had, thank Merlin, gotten over it with time and the rest of her love life was history.

"Time for Gryffindor practice?"

"Yeah. When's yours?"

"We have the pitch reserved for one this afternoon."

"Good luck, then."

"Likewise, Potter."

However, she froze in her spot for a whole second as he passed by her to join the rest of his team, when a slight smell of pine trees and citrus came from him. She all but sprinted back into the castle.


I know I said a week, but I finished this earlier than expected and already started with the next one so I posted it. Let me know what you guys think in the reviews, and I'll see you in the next chapter!