David was ridiculously, unbelievably, stupidly bored. Twenty whole minutes he'd been waiting for his potion to change to the same shade of rosy pink as Professor Chesterton's was. And yet it was still a muddy brown, sending a rather unpleasant smell wafting through the Potions classroom, and he was running out of time to finish. His Potions partner had left him to watch the potion whilst she left to 'help someone else with theirs'.
As usual, his friend (would be boyfriend, if he could get the courage to admit he liked him) John was having just as much trouble. The shorter boy's blond hair was a little charred at the edges, thanks to an unfortunate accident with some dragon scales they'd been throwing around in the lesson two days ago. They'd both been given detention assisting Madame Smythe in the Hospital Wing, but they'd been warned not to try anything again.
David ripped a scrap of paper from the corner of his notebook and scribbled on it, drawing his wand and whispering a quick spell before drawing on it a few more times and scrunching up the message and throwing it at John. It bounced off the other boy's head and hit the ground before he ducked down to pick it up, shooting a playful glare at David.
John stifled a giggle at the rough sketch, animated into a loop by David's spell. It showed Professor Chesterton dropping something into a cauldron and a small explosion going off, leaving the man's face soot-blackened. The caption read 'Professor Chidlington and the Failed Potion'.
"You know it's Chesterton, not Chidlington, mate." John tossed the paper back, snorting with laughter as it landed in David's still-muddy potion.
"What's going on over there, boys?" The professor looked up from his own work and shook his head disapprovingly. "Stop messing around! You're meant to be smart young boys, I'm sure you don't want another detention this week."
"Sorry, professor..." The whole class laughed as both boys turned hastily back to their cauldrons until he looked away again. "Well, not SORRY, exactly," David muttered under his breath and grinned widely. "Aw, I have to get that paper out now..." He said to himself, staring at the murky potion. It looked lighter than before, was that good or really bad?
The boy rummaged around the desk for a minute, looking for something to get the paper out and in the process knocking over several vials of powders and small, expensive looking ingredients that he was meant to put in later. Two little green spheres rolled around a bit and then clinked against each other, creating a tiny white spark. Under normal circumstances, this would have been fine, but as it just so happened, one of the powders David had spilt was incredibly flammable...he panicked for a second, looking around in desperation before deciding to step back and hope his notes didn't get burnt.
There was a FWOOSH, and then erupted a tower of flickering purple flame as high as the vaulted stone ceiling, emitting a foul blue smoke that curled in a cloud across the top of the room. Several students screamed, one girl started crying, and it took poor Professor Chesterton three minutes and a burst of red sparks from his wand to restore order.
"EVERYBODY OUT, PLEASE STAY CALM. DAVID, JOHN. YOU HAVE DETENTION AFTER SCHOOL TODAY." he yelled across the room of shocked eleven year olds.
David just looked at John and grinned madly.
That evening, the two Ravenclaw boys ambled down to the Potions lab, doing their best to look contrite for the disgruntled professor.
"Do you boys have ANY idea how foolish that was?! You NEVER mess with potion ingredients, you could have killed us all! You are very lucky no one was hurt. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?" The professor stood with arms folded in front of the heavy dungeon door.
"I'm sorry, Professor Chilton...- um, I mean Cheddarton..." David gave up and pulled his best injured puppy dog look at the distinctly unimpressed man.
"It's Professor Chesterton, my boy. I don't understand why so many people have such trouble with my name. Both of you, in here. I need you to sit and watch these potions for an hour and a half. Stir clockwise every ten minutes. No talking, or I'll make it two hours." He strode inside the dungeon and sat down to mark some work.
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Both boys gave each other an exasperated look at the thought of their punishment and followed the professor inside, sitting down on the wooden benches and peering into two large cauldrons of luminous green potion, bubbling loudly.
"What's this, professor?" John asked, poking at it with a stirring spoon.
"Skele-gro, for the hospital wing. And don't do that! Leave it alone, except to stir it. And shush."
John plopped back down on the bench next to his friend and shot him a pained look, mouthing 'we've got an hour and a half of THIS...' to him.
David ran a hand through his messy hair and rested one elbow on the desk, nodding wearily and failing to hold back a yawn.
Forty minutes later, and nothing had yet gone wrong. Both boys were sitting with their heads on the bench, trying desperately to stay awake. Twice now John had had to poke David to ensure he didn't drift off.
"Boys, stir again now."
The professor's voice woke the boys up sufficiently to stand up and grab the stirring spoons and dip them into the bright red potion-
Oh.
David looked at his cauldron, then over to John's. The other boy's was still luminous green, bubbling merrily. His, on the other hand. His was red, and steaming frantically, curls of white vapour pouring off the top.
"Professor! Help..."
Professor Chesterton ran over, took one look at David's potion and groaned.
"I said stir it CLOCKWISE, boy!" He ran off to a storage cupboard, returning with a flask of grey pebbles. "This should fix it... I am never allowing you boys near important potions again..."
The mixture ceased its steaming as the professor poured in a stream of tiny rocks.
"Oh, thank goodness. I thought for a minute it was going to-"
He never did finish that sentence, as a huge puff of black smoke flew right into his face, leaving him coughing and startled. As the smoke cleared, the Ravenclaw boys stared at each other, in slightly awed silence.
Their teacher stood in front of a failed potion, hair on end and face dark with smoky residue, a perfect picture of the roughly drawn cartoon that had started all this mess.
Even the threat of an extra night's detention couldn't quell the uproarious laughter that burst out from both of the boys.