[Alchemy] [September 03] The favourite scent (all years)

Galina Viktorovna glared at Zviad Gogoladze as the boy showed his disapproval of the perfume creation. Why couldn't the boy just remain quiet for a bit? There was really no point in showing the world that he didn't like perfumes. The witch wrinkled her nose, suspecting that if she got closer to the boy she'd find evidence that good smells were not his kind of thing.

“I would assume that you can answer your question yourself,” she said, her voice icy. “While Amortentia does smell differently to everybody it would not work as a perfume if you applied it to your skin.” She explained, thinking that while she assumed that Zviad knew this much some younger students might not be aware of it.

“That's right,” Galina Viktorovna said as Zinaida Yegorovna mentioned the three notes. “And yes, it is,” she said, nodding approvingly because Zinaida could even give a correct example. That was quite a promising first reply and the professor looked around to see if other students wanted to contribute as well.

She smiled when she listened to Ruslan Yegorovich's question and was just about to respond when Zviad Gogoladze decided to tease the younger boy and then, quite unnecessarily, Yevgeniya Yegorovna chose to tell the older student off for teasing her little brother. Didn't the girl trust her to deal with the Georgian troublemaker?

Galina Viktorovna was caught by surprise by the fact that Zhenya decided to try and contribute something to the class as well. Her answer was not accurate but, truth be told, Galina Viktorovna hadn't expected accuracy from the Drakonya Krov student anyway.

She shook her head and made a few steps away from her desk and closer to the student desks. “Mr. Gogoladze, I'll see you in my office at the end of the day,” she said, her voice dangerously calm and quiet.

“As for you,” she looked at Yevgeniya, “you should better focus on the lesson than try and do my job. If anyone steps out of line in my class I will handle it. It's not up to you.” She paused, her voice now sounding a little softer. “You're right regarding the top notes being the first that we smell. Middle notes appear then and the base notes actually accentuate and fix the perfume's middle notes.”

She walked over to Ruslan's desk and looked down at the first year. “You actually described quite well how the different notes work,” she said, offering a small smile. “And, just to clarify, singing is not essential to perfume creation. The different levels of a scent are called 'notes'.”

The woman moved back to her desk and sat down again. She flicked her wand and a graphic of a triangle appeared on the blackboard. It was divided in three parts and there were examples of top, middle and base notes listed. “Here you have a rough overview of the different notes. Before we start with the perfume creation though – does anyone know what except for the top, middle, and base notes is needed to make a perfume?”

Ruslan grinned happily as the lazy older boy confirmed he was correct. Maybe he was going to be good at this class! But then Zhenya told the boy off and he felt embarrassed and small, and started to think that perhaps he should just stay quiet for the rest of the lesson. There weren't any other first years speaking up...maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all, especially given that he'd only read the first chapter of his new textbook.

Oh...it got worse! Now Zhenya was being told off for defending him and...well okay, at least she didn't get a detention like his housemate seemed to have earned himself. And he supposed that she would have received a similar reprimand if she'd tried to correct another student during a flying exercise. It wasn't their place to behave like instructors before they had proven themselves - he could hear his father's voice explaining that, as he had done when Ruslan had been a very small boy.

He calmed himself a little, and decided it was probably okay to continue taking part in the lesson when Galina Viktorovna said he was correct. Just because he was the only first year currently contributing it didn't mean his words were without value. He stared at the diagram, trying to figure out what it meant as well as wondering what sort of scents he would want to put in a perfume if he was allowed to make one. Sandalwood, he thought immediately. That was a nice smell and it lingered for hours - oh! Did that mean it was a base note? Yes, there it was on the diagram. So then he would add...lemon? Lemon smelled nice when it was squeezed over fish, so maybe it would be nice in a perfume. He stared thoughtfully at the middle notes, wondering which of those would work nicely, and which ones he would put into his...

"A bottle!" he exclaimed "You need a bottle to keep it all in!" Ruslan wondered why there were a few giggles behind him when he'd said something so sensible. If there wasn't a bottle, the perfume would just run all over the floor!

Justýna had to admit: as much as she’d been dreading it, ‘returning’ to Durmstrang wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the first time. Whether that was because she already knew what to expect, the castle was in a different location, something else entirely, or a combination of these, the Czech witch had been overall less apprehensive. She’d felt sad that Mila, Polina, and Lenka hadn’t managed to escape being ‘voluntold’ to transfer – but at the same time couldn’t help but be a bit selfishly pleased that at least they were all there together.

Rarely one to be tardy as it was, the former Snezhnaya wouldn’t soon forget that Durmstrang professors especially loathed it and were often minimally forgiving; she budgeted herself plenty of time, and fortunately found the classroom without much undue difficulty. She remembered Galina Viktorovna quite well from three years previously – most notably that she tended to fall solidly into the ‘minimally forgiving’ category.

Upon entering the classroom, she murmured a greeting and nodded politely at the Alchemy professor before taking up the empty seat next to her partner, Conrad. The former Rayasov couldn’t quite decide if this ‘mandated partnering’ concept was overall beneficial, detrimental, or neutral – though she supposed it varied wildly depending on the pairs in question. Justýna knew better than to stereotype… but after her last Durmstrang experience, it was sometimes difficult to remember to remain objective. She’d recognized him, as they’d shared a Common Room for a year, but hadn’t really spoken to him prior to this term.

She was pleasantly surprised nonetheless when he addressed her, and rather politely at that.
“Did you have Alchemy at Koldovstoretz?”

“No, we did not,” she replied, also in Swedish, albeit more slowly. She’d only just managed a tenuous grasp of Russian by the time her Fourth Year had ended, so she supposed it was all the same (and only fitting) that she’d need to learn a brand new language this time around and start essentially from square one all over again…
But Justýna had a secret: a translation charm, cast on one of her earrings. She’d worked hard in the month-long heads-up she’d had, but of course it would never be enough, especially for her listening comprehension. Furthermore, she hadn’t known anything about her peer that she would be paired with – and Justýna wasn’t one to go unprepared into unfamiliar territory. She’d tried her first lesson of the day without it and it was the worst feeling. She’d also stayed up late annotating her textbooks with things like phonetic pronunciations and common responses. It felt terribly dishonest, as though she were cheating; but she was desperate to not be left overwhelmingly behind in her final year at school.
Belatedly recognizing she hadn’t finished answering Conrad, she snapped back to attention.
“I think the most similar is” – was? Koldovstoretz did still exist, even if she wasn’t there anymore – “Psionics, perhaps.”

She didn’t have time to elaborate on what exactly Psionics was, though, for the lesson began in earnest just then. She hid a smile at Conrad’s obvious reluctance to participate; for once, she felt similarly. When her turn came around, she replied with: “I like the smell of… outside? Fresh bread baking, spices…” She trailed off – there were many other things, of course, but she hardly thought it relevant to list all of them.

“You know what potion it is? Amortentia?”

Justýna nodded slowly, considering.
“Sounds like it. I do not think there is another potion that could mimic its effects…”
Her speech was halting as she fumbled for the words in the still-unfamiliar tongue.

When it seemed as though she could not delay participating any longer without rebuke, Justýna made her way up to the cauldron.
“I smell… rosemary, fresh cotton, and…” A sudden and powerful sensation of déjà-vu swept over her, then: Anders’s laugh and the rustle of leaves beneath their feet, the warm sun on her face, the smell of the pine trees… and of him.
“Pine,” she said quickly, hoping to pass off the momentary hesitation as a word-finding difficulty, and made her way back to her seat.

“What do you know about perfumes? Can anyone tell me how many notes there are and how they work?”

She hadn’t the faintest idea how perfumes were made (she herself only ever wore any about once a year at best), and thus was glad that others seemed to and spoke up before the professor had an opportunity to call on random people to answer.

Then Zviad made an intentionally inflammatory comment, and Justýna shot her former Housemate a warning look. He certainly knew better, but seemed to be choosing to disregard anyways… not much seemed to have changed in the past couple of years. It had been a pleasant surprise to see him at summer camp, admittedly – he seemed a different person outside of school. In any case, she did her best to ignore the subsequent heated back-and-forth between the professor, Zviad, and a Sixth Year Krov girl that she vaguely recognized.

“Does anyone know what except for the top, middle, and base notes is needed to make a perfume?”

Justýna still didn’t know, but she could hazard a reasonable guess – would be better than waiting to be ‘voluntold’ (again), in any case.
“One would need a—” She paused, frustrated, realizing she had no clue what the Swedish word for ‘solvent’ was; reminding herself that literally everyone else in the room had a year’s head-start on learning Swedish. “A… liquid base to combine with the notes.”

Conrad didn't know what psionics was and it sounded more complicated than anything he would want to know, so he just nodded -- fortunately the lesson began before Justýna could elaborate.

He wished he'd gotten another boy as a partner, though. As the years had worn on he'd told his parents about too many girls he was friends with until their responses had compelled him to just stop mentioning girls at all. At least Justýna seemed nice enough. He supposed he wouldn't get to know her very well until they both had a better grasp of the language but working on his Swedish hardly seemed worth the effort now that he could count down the months until he graduated.

If he graduated, he reminded himself.

The potion smelled like his dog and something metallic, and something earthy, or possibly smoky, and finally something sweet; Conrad furrowed his brow with frustration and said, "I don't know, it smells nice." Was he expected to be able to recognise things like that? He'd never paid any real attention to what different trees smelled like -- he had no idea how his classmates could pick things out this well. He slunk back to his seat and sat down, feeling cranky and stupid.

Maybe it wasn't even worth it to graduate, at this point -- he slouched even further down in his seat as Galina Viktorovna started to speak about perfumes. Not only did this have only the slightest relevance to Alchemy, it had no relevance at all to his life -- he wasn't interested in it, and he would never be interested in it, and he would never wear it either. Not even if it smelled like his amortentia -- and his amortentia smelled like his dog.

Having elected not to put any effort into this assignment, then, he propped his head on his hand and his elbow on the desk and enjoyed all the snapping between the professor and Gogoladze. (Zhenya got involved, for no real reason -- if her little brother was going to volunteer his thoughts in class, her little brother was going to learn quickly not to be stupid -- but Conrad shot her a sympathetic look anyway when the teacher scolded her.)

He snorted at the first year's next comment, though; he covered his mouth with one hand. Justýna answered the question more seriously; now fairly positive that she didn't need much of his assistance getting by in this class, Conrad put his head down on the desk.

Zviad was amused that Zhenya tried to defend her little brother. Why did the Drakonya Krov student get involved at all? They were in class. Quite obviously a professor should be able to handle the situation. Did Zhenya desperately want to earn herself a detention to get a break from flying? The girl seemed to be on the edge, anyway.

Zviad leaned back comfortably on his chair and looked at Galina Viktorovna, his eyebrows slightly raised. Either his head of house really hated him or she had a secret crush on him. It was a little too frequent that she asked him to come to her office, after all. He wondered if spreading rumours about her might make this stop. However, he thought that since he was already repeating a year at school, depriving himself of his well deserved freedom, he should probably not risk being expelled just because he took revenge on a professor who did not like him.

“Can’t wait to see you there,” he said, smirking at Galina Viktorovna.

Given that he had earned himself a detention already, he only half listened to what the teacher had to say. He was amazed that she kept encouraging Ruslan to speak up in class when it should be evident that the boy had nothing worthwhile to offer.  However, he couldn’t but chuckle softly as the little Klyk Vampira said that they’d need a bottle for the potion, thinking that, maybe, Ruslan was on a good way to take his place and annoy Galina Viktorovna should he finally graduate from Durmstrang after this year.

Zhenya looked down, feeling entirely embarrassed. Zviad had not even responded to her comment, apparently she wasn’t worth the older student’s attention… or, well, maybe Galina Viktorovna had only been quicker. The girl listened as the professor asked Zviad to come to her office at the end of the day and almost expected to have to join him there. Her track record of detentions with Galina Viktorovna, while it could probably not match Zviad’s, was still impressive.

However, to her surprise, she did not land herself in detention and Zhenya exhaled loudly, feeling relieved. She had no time to waste in detention anyway. She needed to train, organise the artistic flying club meetings, attend classes and, if possible at all, try and get her homework done. It was a fact, though, that she had, once again, disappointed Galina Viktorovna or maybe disappointed was the wrong word as Zhenya felt that her teacher had no high expectations anyway when she was concerned.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered in response to what the professor told her and smiled sadly at Conrad as she caught his sympathetic look, feeling that he might at least to some degree understand how she felt. They were friends for a while now and surely Conrad knew how difficult this all was for her.

Ruslan spoke up again and Zhenya bit her lips, half wishing her sibling would stay quiet and half impressed by his guts. He was somehow right, of course, they’d need some sort of bottle to put the perfume in to, but the Drakonya Krov felt pretty sure that this had not been the answer Galina Viktorovna had been looking for.

As Justýna, a Koldovstoretz transfer, spoke, Zhenya was impressed. The girl had only just started learning Swedish and already contributed in class. She tried to think of something useful to add to the class as well, feeling a little stupid that she couldn’t contribute.

Sometimes Galina wondered if there was any way at all to make Zviad change his behaviour in class. However, she assumed there was not. The boy clearly had no respect for authorities and the way that he said he was looking forward to coming to her office was just another provocation which she chose to ignore.

At least Yevgeniya apologised for her behaviour and Galina hoped that the Drakonya Krov girl would now refrain from getting involved in such stupid nonsense and rather focus on her academic achievements. She surely needed to put in some more effort if she wanted to pass the exams this year.

Galina smiled slightly as the Klyk Vampira first year was the first to say what else they needed. It was not the answer she had been looking for but it was an absolutely reasonable suggestion all the same. She could not blame him for her imprecise question anyway.

“Indeed,” she, therefore, said, nodding approvingly, “a container, a bottle or vial of some sort is needed.” The young Shishkin did seem like a clever boy and Galina was rather fond of him already. As the head of Klyk Vampira the professor was naturally happy to get quick and clever new first years.

She nodded again after Justýna had spoken up. For a Koldovstoretz student she was really making good contributions in class so far. After all, they did not have a direct equivalent of Alchemy there. “That’s right,” she said, offering a slight hint of a smile. “if nobody has anything to add, I’ll expand on this some more so we can get started on the practical part of the lesson soon.”

She looked around only briefly, not really waiting a long time before continuing to speak. “we need an oil that carries the scents onto the skin. We have different oils here to choose from, you just have to figure out which oil works best with the scent you have in mind. I have prepared some essential oils for you already but if you want to start from scratch, using dried flowers, leaves and herbs you’ll have to bruise the plant materials lightly. Then you take a glass container, pour in a small amount of carrier oil and put the dried plant materials in so they are soaked in oil but don’t really swim in it.” She paused, flicked her wand and soon a piece of parchment landed on every student’s desk with an elaborate explanation on how to create the perfumes.

“You can follow these instructions,” she explained. “There’s everything explained in detail. You may now start to pick your ingredients and all supplies you need. You’ll have to be patient as the results won’t be there by the end of today’s lesson. It takes a while until the perfume will be ready to use.  Please label your bottles with your names and give them to me at the end of the lesson. I’ll store them for you. Have fun!”

[OOC: please let your students go ahead and pick some ingredients. I’ll post a closing post with Galina once a few students have worked on their perfumes. ]

There! Galina Viktorovna smiled, so he was right! The possibility that his answer might not have actually been the one his professor was looking for didn't occur to him, so he just assumed that the girl who'd suggested mixing the ingredients together in an oil had just come up with another idea. Actually, that was pretty sensible. Ruslan hadn't ever paid much attention to such things, but he was pretty sure that his mother's perfumes didn't have bits of flower and bark floating in them, so something must have been done to the ingredients.

Nor did it occur to the first year that perhaps not all boys would be interested, even excited by the opportunity to mix a perfume. Once the students were given free rein to begin Ruslan was one of the first out of his seat, though he then hesitated because it seemed that most people were actually reading the instructions. After a moment he sat down again, but then a few older students (presumably the ones who had been learning Swedish for longer than he had) started collecting their ingredients and he couldn't bear to wait any longer.

Naturally Ruslan wanted to start from scratch and use plant materials so he took the instruction sheet with him, staring at the only-just-familiar words before holding the sheet in his teeth while he selected a glass container. He looked at the possible carrier oils, thinking that grape seed oil might make the perfume smell of fruit which wasn't what he was hoping for. After a bit of deliberation he chose coconut oil (because he was fairly sure at least one of his sisters had a coconut shampoo, and that smelled nice) and half-filled his bottle. Now for the fun part! First he tipped a few sandalwood bark flakes into the bottle, belatedly remembering he was supposed to 'bruise' them first (whatever that meant). Hoping nobody had seen he took the bottle and instruction leaflet back to his desk and went back to fetch more ingredients. He tipped sandalwood, lemon peel, juniper berries and something called cardamon into a pestle and mortar, which he then ground up with far too much enthusiasm.

Hmm...how to get the bits into the bottle? He tried tipping the mortar, but the squished plant parts mostly stuck to the bottom and just a few bits fell out onto his desk. Ruslan picked those up with his fingers and put them into the bottle. Then he had the bright idea of rolling his instruction sheet into a funnel, which he used to successfully tip everything into his perfume vial, with only a little spillage onto his desk. There!

Pleased with his efforts so far, the Klyk settled back into his seat, periodically sniffing at the open bottle as if theis would somehow mysteriously speed up the perfume-making process.

Zhenya wondered if it was a trap that they could either start from scratch or use essential oils. She was more than tempted to just mix some essential oils as that seemed like the by far safer option to produce a decent perfume but she had a distinct feeling that Galina Viktorovna might grade their work and that she would already deduct a few points just because someone took the easier route.

She glanced at Conrad, wondering what he’d do and feeling almost certain that he’d half heartedly mix some essential oils. Her siblings probably would put in more effort. It was hardly a trait of the Shishkin family to take it easy. However, Zhenya did not feel particularly ambitious here and now. She wanted to pass her exams, of course, but the O.W.L.s were still a few months away.

Picking up the instructions, Zhenya read them, feeling like she did not take everything in. As she still considered her options - getting an acceptable perfume taking the easy way or putting in more effort and ending up with something that was not really convincing she noticed that her younger brother was visibly less stressed about it all. She admired Ruslan’s guts but at the same time wondered if that wouldn’t get him into about as much trouble as she usually found herself in.

Avoiding to look at their professor, Zhenya got up from her seat and took a look at the different ingredients, choosing almond oil as a carrier oil and picking up some rose and mint leaves, vetiver and cedarwood. Back at her desk, she put her plant materials into a container and looked around. Ruslan was using a mortar which seemed sensible but Galina Viktorovna had spoken about bruising the ingredients lightly and what Ruslan was doing looked rather brutal. Instead of following her younger sibling’s example, the girl pressed on the plant materials with her hand which smelled rather pleasantly when she was done. Then she poured some oil into the container and looked at it indecisively. Was that all that she could do at this point? She’d ask but she felt that the professor did not like her and she wasn’t eager to get her attention again.

Zviad watched as a piece of parchment flew through the air and landed on his desk. He did not sit up straighter to read it, nor did he feel inclined to leave his desk to grab ingredients. Instead he stifled a yawn and sank a little lower on his seat as he contemplated if he should make an attempt to create a perfume at all or if he’d get away not even trying at all.

However, he already was repeating his seventh year now. The idea of not graduating even if he spent eight long years in a boarding school seemed to have little appeal. He exhaled loudly as he glanced around and watched his classmates.

Of course Ruslan was eager to mess around with ingredients. It seemed to Zviad that the boy would probably get equally excited if he was told to build a sandcastle or something. He could feel that Galina Viktorovna was looking at him but that did not really serve to motivate the Georgian any further. If anything it tempted him to draw more time until starting on his perfume.

Indifferently he pulled the parchment closer and took a look at the instructions. “Exciting,” he muttered, his voice clearly revealing that he meant the contrary. He got to his feet and walked over to the stock of ingredients, taking a bottle and then opening some random bottles of essential oils that Galina Viktorovna had prepared. Ending up with lemon, lemongrass and pine essential oils mixed together.

He made his way back to his desk, deliberately kicking a school bag that was leaned against the leg of a desk close to the front so that it was knocked over and some of its contents rolled out. “You should take better care of your things,” he told Ruslan quietly, but didn’t bother to apologise or help recollecting the things.

Conrad lifted his head off the desk only when a piece of parchment landed next to his ear; it was written in Swedish (he swore under his breath) and far more detailed than he would have wanted it; it was incomprehensible after the first paragraph. He shot a surreptitious glance around the room to see who else looked lost (having had his head down for a few minutes hadn’t helped his interest or his understanding of this lesson at all) Disgusted, he shoved the parchment away and decided just to wing it. Nothing today was going to explode in his face, so he got up to look at the oils, so he could get there ahead of anybody else.

None of the neatly labelled little bottles seemed to have any relevance to his amortentia, so he picked one up to sniff, then the next, then the next. They were all too strongly scented for his taste -- he wondered if he could make perfume that smelled like nothing at all, something that would cover up anything bad without introducing some new odor into the air. That seemed a lot more useful than just perfume; what a waste of time. This wouldn’t have happened if a man were teaching Alchemy.

And he hated oil. If this class made him break out because they were playing with stupid scented oils, he’d quit and take Magical Weaponry instead -- at least in that class the only danger was losing a finger.

He selected the only smells that were at all subtle, poured a few drops of each into a phial, cut it with water, shook it violently, then gave it a sniff. It was still too powerful but it would have to do -- he went back into his seat and sat, shooting a surreptitious look back at the alcohol on the table. There was no way Galina Viktorovna would let anyone get away with sneaking a sip but he really wanted to see if he could. But better not to -- it was only the first week of school. For a few minutes he distracted himself by writing rude words in block letters on the margin of the instructions the professor had given them, biting with concentration on his upper lip.

Only when Zviad Gogoladze kicked over Zhenya’s brother’s bag did Conrad snap back to attention, and frowned a little: it was one thing to tell someone they were being stupid when they were being stupid -- Conrad got that all the time and he was fine -- but now Gogoladze was just being a bully, and to someone who was probably half his size. That was pathetic. But it was none of Conrad’s business, so he just lifted his head, a little bit cheerier at the prospect that he might get to see the professor tell Gogoladze off again.

Galina Viktorovna stood back after she had told her students what they were supposed to do, watching them as some eagerly studied the instructions, others hurried to get some ingredients and another few showed little to no inclination to do any of the sort.

She had noticed before that Conrad had put his head onto his desk and had refrained from commenting, hoping that the seventh year was old enough to work out by himself that he needed to put in some effort if he wanted to graduate this year. However, he did not seem very eager to get start on the perfume.

Quite the contrary was little Ruslan. Galina wasn’t sure if she was impressed or not. He did not do everything right but that could hardly be expected of a first year anyway. He did show quite some eagerness though and that was always a good thing. “You should bruise your plant material gently,” she told Ruslan but, as she did not speak particularly loud, she wasn’t sure the boy had even heard her. It was too late already anyway. He had mutilated his perfume ingredients and would likely not achieve the best outcome.

His elder sister did not do all that much better though, Galina realised, shaking her head ever so slightly. The girl used her hand to squish the plants and, thus, had the valuable material that could be used for the perfume on her fingers rather than in her bowl.

The professor turned to look at Zviad, wondering, not for the first time, why she had not made her point and sacked him the year before. The student was an embarrassment for her house with his attitude and surely would not have a real career after school whether he graduated or not. The way he handled the task just reassured the witch that the boy wasn’t worth her energy and time. However, as he kicked Ruslan’s school bag she inhaled deeply. “I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour in my class. I expect you to apologise to your classmate. Prepare yourself to spend every evening of the rest of this month in detention.” Maybe she could even find a task for him that did not require her supervising him. After all, Galina didn’t want to punish herself as well, having to spend more time than necessary with a student she did not like.

She glanced around and her gaze rested on Conrad for a while. The boy had apparently chosen some essential oils by now and was scribbling something onto his instruction parchment. She’d have to have a word with him about his goals or… maybe she’d just tell Erik to talk to the boy. He was his head of house. It was more his problem than hers. Besides, she clearly had enough to do with Zviad at this point.

Time was up now anyway and Galina felt that most students had got far enough with their preparations, too. Some had actually done a decent job and might even get a usable perfume in the end.

“Please tidy up your desks, label your work with your name and leave it on this table here on your way outside," she said, gesturing at a free table next to the exit. "As homework please summarise how a perfume is created and use the ingredients you chose as an example. See you all next week.”

[out]

[OOC: I will leave this class open for a while so everybody who is interested can post their char leaving the classroom. Thanks for participating! <33]

Stasya had stayed in the background, tried not to attract Galina Viktorovna’s attention again, after having been caught chatting to Zoya already once. The lesson wasn’t a bad one and the girl would have known a few things to contribute but she chose not to. The student librarian didn’t enjoy speaking up in class.

Truth be told, when she knew an answer, she formulated a reply in her head and then looked around hopeful that someone would beat her to answer anyway. She had been asked to stay back after classes to be confronted with the same old ‘I know you know a lot more than you share in class’ talk. ‘I cannot give you a good grade just because I know that you know something. You have to actually contribute in class.’ However, whenever she was told these things, Stasya chewed on her lips and muttered ‘I understand’ without actually even intending to change anything.

The girl had enjoyed the practical part of the lesson. Following the instructions closely - she had actually taken the parchment up to the front to study it while picking her ingredients - she had naturally started from scratch, finding some plant material - basil, bergamot, many rose leaves, cedarwood and sandalwood - and had bruised it gingerly with a wooden spoon. Then she had poured some jojoba oil on it and closed the container.

She was so caught up in her work that she did not really notice that Zviad bullied Ruslan. She only looked up when Galina Viktorovna told them to label their work and leave it on a table in the front when leaving the classroom. She wrote her name neatly on the label and looked at Zoya.

“Ready to go?!” she asked, packing her bag and shouldering it before picking up the container.

“Bye,” she muttered in passing the professor, and quickly placed the container on the table before rushing out.

[out]

Had someone said something? Had...had the professor said something while he'd been busy and not realised? Ruslan glanced up, but as Galina Viktorovna appeared to be observing someone at the back of the room he decided he'd just imagined it. After all, he'd already got his ingredients nicely into his bottle and, if you ignored the fact that his instruction sheet was now liberally coated in bits of mashed-up plant material, he'd done it rather neatly as well. Other people were still moving around and collecting things and...

He jumped in surprise as his older housemate walked past his desk and actually kicked his bag. Ruslan had pushed it under his desk earlier, but with all the excitement it had tipped sideways and was lying somewhat in the aisle between desks. Well, it had been...now it was right in the middle of the floor and his new parchments and quills had spilled out onto the floor. He could see the feathers on one of his new quills had got a little bent at the top and that, more than Zviad's snarky comment, made him furious. Without thinking Ruslan leapt to his feet, glaring at the older boy who was already departing down the room.

What the first year intended to do was thankfully never revealed because Galina Viktorovna had also seen and she immediately took charge of the situation. It wasn't going to fix his quill, but hearing that his housemate would be spending a very long time in detention and thus wouldn't be able to go flying after classes made Ruslan's face light up. He managed an innocent smile in Zviad's direction then, without waiting to see whether the boy had noticed bent down and scooped everything back into his bag, deciding he could sort it out later. Besides, his facial expression was under control now so when he regained his seat, he appeared entirely impassive. He was sure that stoicism was a trait that his teacher would admire.

He gave his desk a careful wipe with the sleeve of his robe and, satisfied it was clean enough wrote his name on a small slip of parchment which he carefully tied onto his bottle. One final sniff and he sealed the bottle, collected his belongings and headed for the door. "Thank you, Galina Viktorovna", he said as he placed the bottle onto the table, tucking it behind several others so that rotten Zviad wouldn't try to switch perfumes. As he left the classroom, his head was full of good intentions to write a really great piece of homework.

[out]

Zviad had of course known that kicking Ruslan’s school bag would result in some kind of punishment but he was a little taken aback when he heard Galina Viktorovna threaten him with detention every evening for the rest of the month. Although he tried to stay impassive, the boy’s bright eyes widened slightly. Why did Galina Viktorovna do that? Did she really enjoy his company so much that she wanted to spend all her evenings this month with him? It seemed ridiculous but why else would she come up with this punishment?

He noticed Ruslan’s smile and tried to remind himself that it was absolutely unnecessary to pick on a first year from his house. However, something about the eagerness with which the younger student participated in class, almost sucked up to the professor, bugged him. He was not going to apologise to Ruslan unless Galina Viktorovna magically forced him to.

“Should I dress in fancy clothes for the occasion?” he said under his breath so that only those sitting near to him might be able to overhear it.

After he had labelled his bottle in a deliberately illegible handwriting, he grabbed his things and made his way towards the exit, placing the small bottle on the table. “Looking forward to seeing you tonight,” he told the professor, smiling wryly. Then he left the classroom.

[out]