The Potion Master's Past

Aesop Sharp heard a commotion in the classroom, and sighed. He could only guess what the cause was. Garreth Weasley happened to be in this particular potions class, and that almost always led to some eccentric creations. Sighing, he stood up from the desk in his office, where he had been going over the latest letters from the ministry. For the past several months, he had been doing some freelance consulting with the Auror's office about the potential goblin uprising that they had been closely monitoring.

As he rose up, the old ache in his bum leg screamed at him, sending shots of pain from his knee all the way up to his hip and lower back. He winced, taking a moment to let the pain subside before heading back out into the classroom. As soon as he reached the office threshold, however, he was hit in the face with the scent that had haunted his every waking hour for as long as he could remember. Lillies. He paused and inhaled deeply, lingering for a moment in his office doorway, caught off guard by the nostalgia the scent brought on.

Steeling his features, he walked through the classroom, heading towards the station where a lanky redhead 5th year was working. Garreth Weasley. Sharp shook his head. He actually liked the kid, he had to admit. He was smart, amiable, and had a real knack for creative potions. He had the potential to be a very talented potioner some day, or maybe even an auror. But he always seemed to skirt just outside the rules of convention, so Sharp frequently had to bring the proverbial hammer down on him.

"Mr. Weasley. You seem to have strayed from the prescribed recipe, yet again." He intoned between coughs. "Please remove your cauldron from the fire quickly, before you suffocate us all. 10 points to Griffindor for being the first one in class to produce a successfully brewed potion." Garreth pumped a fist in the air in triumph. "But... 5 points taken from Griffindor for making changes to the original recipe."

"Net 5 points, I'll take it!" Garreth patted Leander Pruitt firmly on the back. Leander rolled his eyes and went back to stirring his own cauldron. Sharp hid his own grin covertly behind his fist as he feigned a cough. Contrary to his students' popular belief, he did actually have a sense of humor. But he preferred to keep the veil up between himself and them, hoping to teach and inspire without getting too deeply attached. He'd always struggled with attachment, ever since the loss of his partner, his mobility and his career all in one fell swoop. Things crashed down too quickly, and he subscribed to the idea that forgoing any deep attachments would protect him from emotional pain. If you never love, you never are faced with the loss of that love. So he kept to himself and maintained a strictly professional air with his students and coworkers.

"Sir," Imelda Reyes called out. "How can you tell his potion is successful?" This one drove him up the wall. She was a member of his own house and an extremely talented quidditch player, but to her everything was a competition. If she treated her grades with even half of the drive she had for sport, she would be the top student in her year. But instead, she chose to chase glory on the quidditch field. He could barely abide such foolishness and waste of talent, and just now het petty streak was annoying him as well.

"Well, Miss Reyes, I intend to do a breakdown of the properties later, once you all are in your next classes. However, there is one immediate result that should be obvious to most of you. But since it's apparently not obvious to Miss Reyes, let's take a little survey." He looked around the classroom, attempting to mask his disdain for the young witch. His eyes fell on the errant potion in front of Garreth Weasley, so he decided that was a good enough place to start. "Mr. Weasley, since it's your potion, why don't you tell me what you smell."

Garreth paused, looking a bit sheepish. "I smell Lavender and Jasmine." Sharp noted that he was now as red as the ginger locks of hair he was known for. Hmm. The object of his affections must be in this very classroom, and was likely aware that he'd just given himself away.