Chapter Text
Bubbling and dripping filled the relatively dark environment even at the height of the day.Colored liquids of different smells and consistencies simmered inside metal cauldrons set into wooden worktables, with metal caps installed on its surface to prevent accidents should the potion splash. Each of those present is able to hear ingredients falling into the liquid that each one believes can be called a potion. Although Crewel knows very well that many of them may not even meet this requirement.
Pairs perform behind each of the cauldrons, a significantly common, yet no less dangerous, practical lesson; the art of alchemy can never be completely safe, even restricting the ingredients to only what is necessary at the moment can create very different results; a simple delay can cause potentially fatal injuries.
At one of the tables, a pair works in a coordinated manner, not appearing entirely friendly with each other but accustomed enough to work impeccably, They could easily be considered the best in their class, and even in their year, one of the few that Crewel can say are truly making a potion, Following the steps with excellence, they probably, as in all their previous works, made the requested potion correctly and efficiently. They still need supervision, obviously, but not constant supervision, allowing the teacher the luxury of checking on considerably more problematic students.
-Could you please get Heber's powder, Jade?
A young redhead, Riddle Rosehearts, stirs the liquid counterclockwise as instructed in the skin rejuvenation recipe, a potion useful not only for beauty but also for surgery and treatment of skin problems, which also uses Hebe powder, which Riddle's potions partner so kindly offers to fetch, a pollen from a very specific flower that allows for rejuvenation that resembles a return to the past, requiring extra care, since this powder in certain situations can also rejuvenate the prefrontal cortex and the body, potentially permanently.
At the right time, many students move to collect Hebe's powder, which must be removed just before use because it needs to be kept at a specific temperature to prevent decomposition, becoming essentially useless, at least for that potion. Something that is discovered by two students from Pomefiore, who did not pay attention to this detail pointed out by Crewel before they put it in the potion.
The taller of the bumbling duo runs in a panic to throw away Hebe's now partially decomposed powder and to grab the new, refrigerated powder, scattered among other students in the rush to return with the new ingredients before the boiling time went past the point. This haste is immediately reprimanded by Crewel, who reiterates in shouts amidst the sound of a whip cracking in the air that one should not run.
-Puppy! This is not a playground where you can run around!
Unfortunately, the scream doesn't stop the run in time, preventing the student from bumping into his Vice-housewarden, who is strong enough to launch the ingredients, the powder scattering through the air like rain after falling, each student trying to protect their potions, something impossible for the only student at the nearest table. The white powder spreads, obscuring the vision of those closest to it, falling in a much larger quantity than required for this potion into the unprotected cauldron, the already decomposed powder mixes with the new powder, reacting immediately upon reaching the liquid.
-Everyone gets down! Turn off the heat and don't breathe the smoke!
Everyone obeys the teacher's orders, Those lagging behind are being dragged along by their colleagues or by Crewel himself, who heads towards the window, turning off the stove before crouching under the tables, trying to cover their noses with their sleeves, moving away from the dust and smoke. Those closest to the windows followed the teacher in the task of opening them, trying to get the dust and smoke out of the room more quickly.
The bubbles rising and bursting before anyone noticed, the liquid running down the edges of the metal cauldron, holes being made along its length as it seemed to decompose, the fire which should be switched off, something the lonely young man at the table sets about doing, approaching not quickly enough, the cauldron exploding with a loud sound, bubbles and dust mixing with the liquid which drips onto the table and covers the student, filling the room with even more smoke.
-AAAGH-
A scream cuts through the already far from silent atmosphere; for a few seconds, no one understands the reason until the sound of exploding metal reaches their ears—shards of what should have been a cauldron, flying and hitting anyone near a bubbling liquid covering the table closest to the ingredient pantry.
The scream seems to echo over the other screams even though it ended long ago, disappearing as quickly as it appeared, seeming to become one with the dripping and bubbling sound of the liquid dripping, high, a sound so visceral it made bile rise in the throats of everyone who heard it, much more than the sickly sweet and porous smell of the liquid could do. Each of the people present, unable to forget it, seems to continue in the silence filled only by faint sobs and murmurs. Only much later would anyone admit who the scream had belonged to.
Smoke billowed through the room, a light purple shifting to pink and then blue, seemingly dripping and covering those unlucky enough to be near the cauldron, whose sharp, black remains littered the floor, slightly melted, pouring a little more of the foamy liquid down the floor. The room falls silent as the smoke clears enough for those present to see where it originated.
Eyes follow the tables as they are revealed, smoke billowing from the window and dust clinging to the floor like snow, covering every surface; each table, with their cauldrons containing a certain percentage of the powder, however switched off and unable to make the compounds react, not like what happened with the exploding cauldron.
Silence covers the room for a short time, murmurs and calls interrupting it, the students trying to find their way while the teacher checks on them, leading each one to a corner of the room, near the window and in one of the only places where there isn't so much white dust on the floor. The tables, as well as the students, are covered in dust in varying amounts; the cauldrons, bubbling weakly, don't explode only because the fire is off.
The students closest to the incident are completely covered in dust with some scratches from the exploding cauldron, but none are seriously injured. Well, almost all the students, since one remains unlocatable, even long after everyone has risen from their hiding places, no one sees Riddle's characteristic red hair, which was the only one, along with Jade who is just a little to the right of the table, who was assigned to that station.
-Riddle Rosehearts? Puppy? Answer me if you're listening.
The professor's calls go unanswered, no one moves, trying to find the only missing person in the room, all eyes inevitably falling on the table closest to the dispense with ingredients, covered in a liquid that almost seems to turn to snow, even on such a hot day, appearing to crystallize into a soft pink, properly covering the table and its immediate surroundings, piling up on the remains of the cauldron and the legs of the table. The silence stretches on until it is broken by a soft, frequent, and constant sound: sobs for which no one seems able to identify the cause.
The constant sound isn't particularly loud, almost too low, yet in the silence of the room it sounds like a hammer hitting a wall. Even so, each of those present takes a while to realize where the noise is coming from, looking around when it doesn't stop, not seeing any student crying or with trembling shoulders, only in this moment, noticing that the sobs are coming from the only table with the cauldron in pieces.
-Riddle?
The professor approaches the mess on the table, raising his wand to carefully move the foam away from his steps, everyone in the room seeming to lean forward to try and see what It was under the table he was approaching, a head full of red strands of hair, appearing relatively smaller than normal and visible to those closest to him, trembling in the same rhythm as his sobs, The students were divided between horror and disbelief; Riddle Rosehearts, the Housewarden of Heartslabyu, the tyrant of the red rose, sobbing? It's not something anyone would expect to witness themselves in life.
If you get a little closer, to a place where none of the students can see except the teacher, the only one close enough for this, you will see a pile of black clothes, the classic uniform of all the students at Night Raven College, with a red Heartslabyu sash and a distinctive golden crown brooch, more than enough to make it clear who the uniform belongs to, even if it is not visible anywhere. The pile of clothes appears relatively intact, which is strange but not impossible if Riddle Rosehearts literally vanished from existence.
-Shit...
One more unlikely thing to add to the day: Professor Divus Crewel, usually so composed despite his eccentricity, swearing softly would be inaudible if there were any other sound besides the constant sobs. The mass of clothing seems to move, tangling itself, while a light beige, slightly pinkish color seems to emerge from the pile, burning red strands adorning a round little face visible as soon as it untangles from the mountain of fabric.
Without hesitation, the only adult in the room gathers the small being wrapped in the fabric of the shirt, too big to be a cat or dog but too small for a person, a tiny creature that almost turns into a ball when it clings and hides between the fabric wrapped around it and the clothes of Crewel, the stiff little body trembled slightly due to the low sobs. Nothing visible beyond what could be a silhouette amidst the white fabric with buttons, what should be sleeves covering what could be limbs or just a shoulder.
-Sor-sorry
A whisper comes from the small, trembling being hidden away, so softly that it almost hides the fact that the words seem excessively drawn out, sharp and bubbling, but undeniably human, Between sobs and sniffles, too low to be a little child, even though the voice is identical to that of a toddle, seeming to try to swallow back tears.
The little body trembles so much that, even with the fabric tightly wrapped around its length, it begins to slip, revealing that this familiar fabric is a white shirt that everyone here has either owned or owns, the classic white silk blouse of the uniform. The light fabric fades slightly, revealing a head of hair with a familiar shade of red For everyone in the room, eyes gray and glistening with tears, a face so small it takes a second for anyone present to notice who it is.
-Housewarden!!?
And as expected, as soon as two students get a closer look at the small child still hidden in Crewel's chest, they immediately shout their discovery, The loud sound reverberated through the room, startling not only the other students who finally connected the dots, but also the poor, softly crying child hiding their face in the fabric of the professor's coat, The shirt fabric, not being a dress, was encircled by the small being, tiny hands grasping the fur of the coat, only their silhouettes visible beneath the silk, The rest of the body barely discernible amidst the cascading fabric, it could appear as one continuous stream if it weren't for the obvious trembling movement.
The issue is that many of those present are facing a dilemma, unsure of what they find more impressive and shocking: the fact that an accident occurred in potions class causing a cauldron to explode, But more than that, the cauldron of the undeniably best student in the class, Riddle Rosehearts, the fact that he was sobbing or Professor Divus Crewel's outburst regarding what is perhaps the biggest topic of discussion in the coming weeks or months at Night Raven College, Riddle Rosehearts, the teapot tyrant, like a child clinging to the professor's coat, crying softly