Crabbe residence

North York Moors:

Vincent Crabbe finished mucking out Puck's stall and fed the nine-year-old white pony a carrot for standing tied so patiently in the shed. The Welsh mountain pony was a sweet-tempered pony, but he had a streak of mischief in him, like most ponies. Said streak often led the pony into doing things like unlatching his stall and the paddock gate and wandering off on the moor. Puck also liked to snatch loose clothing, like hats, off people's heads and nibble on scarves. He was clever and could do tricks like counting and spelling out his name, Vince's sister Morgana had taught him those. He had belonged to Vince and taught him to ride before Vince grew too big and now he was his sisters' pony. Puck had been schooled by Joanna Crabbe, Vince's mother, who had learned to ride before she could walk, and was an Equus-speaker, meaning she could understand and speak the language of horses. Vince had gotten his love of animals from Joanna.

"There ya go, lad. All nice and fresh for tonight." He untied the pony and led the gelding from the shed, Puck followed like a dog. There was a medium sized paddock surrounding the shed where Vince turned Puck out on warm days, and today looked to be particularly fine. "Here you go, boy. Enjoy the sunshine," Vince told the pony, and Puck trotted out into the middle of the paddock and began to graze on the sweet grass, his long forelock falling over his dark eyes.

"Vi-i-nce! You just ‘bout done with that pony?" called Morgana, his nine-year-old sister. "Ma says she's got lunch waitin', and isn't that girlfriend of yours from school coming over?"

Vince turned to see his little sister standing on the cobblestone path leading up the back door of the stone cottage, arms akimbo, her dark hair straggling free of its plaits. She was wearing her favorite pair of denims and faded yellow shirt with the saying Horse-tamer's daughter scrawled across it. "Whatcha want, imp?"

"Ma wants you t' come in for lunch. But I wanna know what's up with you and your girlfriend." Morgana giggled, her blue eyes twinkling. "Have you . . .kissed her yet, Vince?"

"None of your business, brat," he mock-growled, dusting off his hands on the seat of his jeans. He pulled out his wand and cast a quick Freshen-Up charm over himself, because his mother insisted all her children be neat and tidy when they sat down at the table for meals.

"Aww, come on! I wanna hear all the disgusting juicy details," Morgana begged shamelessly.

"Morgana, for the love of Merlin!" Vince groaned. "There's nothing to tell." Actually that wasn't true, but he wasn't about to tell his nosy kid sister that. Morgana's nickname in the Crabbe household was "Little Big Mouth" because she told everyone everything and no secret was safe around her.

"Is too! You can tell me, Vince."

Vince snorted. "Ha! Tell you an' you might as well run an article in the Prophet."

Morgana pouted adorably.

Just then a small tow-headed little girl stuck her head out the kitchen window, which was lifted up to admit the fresh air and sunshine and shouted, "Vince! Your girlfriend Marietta's here! That's a funny name. Does it mean she's gonna marry you someday?"

"Merlin's socks, Gwynna!" Vince groaned, smacking himself in the forehead. "D'you have to announce it to the whole moor?"

He stamped his trainers free of straw and headed up to the cottage, which the Crabbes had just moved into a month before. It was part of his father's plan to turn over a new leaf and make a fresh start for himself and his family, away from the influence of his former Death Eater acquaintances.

His baby sister, six-year-old Gwyneth, pulled her head back in and shouted, "He's comin', Ma!"

"One of these days I'm gonna hex her mouth shut, the little banshee," the stocky boy muttered.

"She's got a bigger mouth than I do," Morgana said, following.

"You both have the biggest mouths in Yorkshire." He paused upon the doorstep and ran his fingers through his hair. "How's my hair? Do I have any straw in it?"

Morgana studied him. "Nope."

"Do I look all right?"

"Uh . . .you look . . .like a dorky Magical Creatures vet," his sister sang, then she bolted away, laughing.

"Rotten brat!" he cried, running after her.

He chased her around the path to the front of the stone cottage, finally catching her as she fumbled with the latch on the front door.

He scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder, ignoring her shrieks. "Who's laughing now, Little Big Mouth?" he demanded, giving her a pretend swat. Then he walked into the house, Morgana still dangling over his broad shoulder. "Hey, Ma! Got me a jackdaw here that needs her feathers plucked good."

Joanna, a pretty woman in her late thirties, was wearing casual riding leathers and a soft blue cotton shirt and expensive leather boots, she had her gold hair pulled back in a tail, fastened with a shiny turquoise clip. She looked up at her two offspring and sighed, accustomed to their frequent horseplay. "Put your sister down, Vince. I'll discuss her behavior later, when our guest is not present." She nodded gracefully at Marietta, who was already seated at the table, concealing a grin behind her hand.

"Okay, ma'am," Vince set Morgana down, and the girl made a face at him before running to get the seat next to Gwynna. Vince smiled at Marietta, who looked very summery in her pink flowery sundress and white eyelet sweater. "Hey, Marietta. How's your holiday been?"

"Hi, Vince!" she smiled back, and tossed her curly hair back from her face. "It's been pretty boring, except for coming here. My mum's been working a lot at the Ministry on some special project so she hasn't been home much, and my dad's away on business." She looked about at the spotless kitchen with its bunches of dried herbs hanging from the rafters and whitewashed walls and exclaimed, "You've got a lovely home. So peaceful feeling."

"Yeah. But we've only been here a month or so." Vince coughed awkwardly, then he sat down and reached for the pitcher of iced lemonade, kept cold by a Chilling charm. "Care for some lemonade, Marietta?"

"Thank you, I'd love some. Is it homemade?" Marietta floated her glass over to him.

"It certainly is," Joanna declared proudly. "It's an old family recipe, handed down from my great-grandma. I use only fresh springwater and the ripest lemons."

After pouring Marietta a glass, Vince served himself. "Where's Da and Danny?"

"Still at the forge," replied Joanna. She motioned for him to serve Marietta the sandwiches and crisps and salad upon the table.

"Goody, that means we can actually get a roast beef sandwich before Danny inhales them. He eats like a Hungarian Horntail," Morgana announced, before she grabbed a roast beef and Swiss with mayo off the platter.

There was also ham and Cheddar, cucumber and tomato, and chicken with pickles and mustard. All were cut into halves, stacked neatly on top of each other.

"Morgana! Is that a nice thing to say about your brother?" reprimanded Joanna.

"No. But it's true."

"Please forgive my daughter, Marietta. She tends to just say the first thing that comes into her head."

"That's why we call her Little Big Mouth," Vince added, chuckling.

Morgana stuck her tongue out at him.

Just then Gwynna asked softly, "Vince, you never answered my question. Are you gonna marry her someday?"

Vince nearly choked on his lemonade, the back of his neck turning a bright scarlet, as did the tips of his ears. "Err . . .ahh . . ."

"Well?" the child repeated. Seeing her brother struck dumb, she turned to Marietta and asked, "Are you? Is that why your name's Marietta?"

Marietta laughed, not unkindly, at the curious little girl. "Umm . . .well, maybe someday I might. And my name actually means "little Mary" in Italian. My mum is Italian, I was named after my grandma."

"Oh. That's cool. I was named after my grandma too," Gwynna said, beaming. "When are you getting married? Tomorrow? Will I get to wear a pretty dress and robes? I like purple n' pink the best." She indicated her lavender top and pink jeans.

"Aww! You're sweet!"

Vince had recovered from his fit and said, "She's sweet till she doesn't get her own way, then she's a monster. Right, Gwynnie?"

"Don't call me Gwynnie!" she snapped, then she turned back to Marietta and said, "I'm glad you're gonna marry Vince, ‘cause he needs a woman to keep him in line."

At that Marietta and Joanna burst out laughing.

"You tell him, Gwynna!" cheered Morgana.

Vince ground his teeth and wondered why he had ever been saddled with two bratty embarrassing little sisters.

The back door opened and Vince breathed a sigh of relief as his tall father and little brother entered the kitchen, evening up the odds between men and woman a little.

Vincent Crabbe, senior and his second oldest, Danny, who was as blond as his mother, and starting to fill out a little due to apprenticing with his mage smith father, greeted their guest cordially, before sitting down and helping themselves to the lunch upon the table.

"Hi, Da!" his two daughters chorused, running to him and climbing up on his lap.

"Hello, my wildwood princesses!" the elder Crabbe boomed, hugging his two youngest.

He ate while they chattered nonstop to him, and Vince asked Marietta if she would like to go walking on the moor after lunch.

"Oh, as long as you're going to be wandering the heath, lad, would ye mind collecting some herbs and plants for me?" Joanna asked. "My potions stock is running low." She handed him a list.

"Sure, Ma." Vince took the list with a sigh.

"I won't mind helping you, Vince," Marietta offered.

"Thanks," Vince said, then smiled as his viridian rain forest boa, Vera, slithered out from behind the stove and climbed up his leg, curling up about his wrist. "Hello, my beauty. Did you have a good nap?"

Vera hissed an affirmative, wrapping about her wizard's wrist like a living emerald bracelet.

"We'll take Puck, my pony, and put the baskets on him," Vince told the Ravenclaw girl.

"But won't he be afraid of Vera?" asked Marietta sensibly.

"Nah. He was spooked at first, ‘till Ma explained Vera was my familiar an' wouldn't hurt him. Now he's okay with her, as long as she doesn't try and crawl up his legs." Vince said, and resumed eating his sandwich, while Danny told their mother how he had learned to forge amulets out of silver today.

* * * * * *

They walked along the heather-blanketed moor together, collecting bunches of heather and meadowsweet and larkspur. As they gathered, Vince recited the uses of the plants, which he had been taught by his mother. "Heather for protection and luck, meadowsweet for scent and for upset stomachs, larkspur is good for an eyewash and to keep away fleas, Mum makes a spray of that for Puck, since the flies really bite in the summer sometimes."

Marietta was impressed. "You really know your plants, don't you? Funny, I never would have figured you for the herbology type."

Vince blushed. "Merlin, I learned about this stuff when I was little like Gwynna. Ma used to take me with her when she gathered herbs in the fields and the forest and I learned all about herbs, magical and ordinary ones." He knelt and plucked an odd bell-shaped red flower. "See this? A crimson bellsprout. It's used in drafts to cure hearing problems, especially in old people. You crush up the flowers and stems to release the juice . . ."

Marietta was fascinated and listened intently as Vince led her through the moor, picking all the herbs upon Joanna's list. Each plant was carefully stowed in the baskets upon Puck's back. The Welsh pony was very well-behaved, he didn't try to buck off the baskets nor did he try and eat Marietta's sweater.

Vera slipped off Crabbe's wrist and went hunting for voles, as a familiar, she could always find her wizard, and so Crabbe did not fear her getting lost on the moor. Good hunting, all!

"She is a wise creature," Marietta said.

"She is that." Vince smiled after the snake fondly. He crossed herbs off the list as he found them, none of them were difficult to find. "You know, snakes in Greece and Italy way back during ancient times were worshipped as being wise and intuitive creatures. It was believed they whispered medical cures into the priestesses' ears"

"I know. The priestesses of Apollo and Demeter kept snakes in their temples and said they gave them advice to help people heal. They were considered sacred and knowing the secrets of the earth."

Vince nodded. "Yes. But some people have forgotten that and think only of the evil serpent in the Garden of Eden, or the viper that strikes in the grass. Voldemort has turned the sacred serpent into a monster again. But Professor Snape said that we Slytherins had a duty to try and change that image, and show the rest of Hogwarts that the serpent could shed its skin and assume a new role, that of a counselor. He told us that we should use our drive to succeed to make things better, and not to take over the world, the way Old Moldy did."

"I agree. And you know something else?" Marietta said, stepping close to him. "There's one serpent that I'd love to let whisper in my ear." Her lips were inches from his own.

"Would you now?" he whispered huskily, his arms coming about her and drawing her gently to him. He bent his head and their lips met.

Their kiss was tentative at first, but soon changed into a fiery unexpected passion. Neither had ever felt such intense feelings before, desire licked through them like a grassfed bonfire, and their kiss deepened, became tender and fierce by turns. They drowned in the sweetness, the herbs forgotten by their feet and Puck's lead left dangling.

Vince felt as if the kiss lasted an eternity and at the same time was over far too quickly. When he made himself come up for air, he felt literally breathless and utterly wonderful. Marietta looked up at him, her eyes shining, her lips puckered delightfully, and said, every bit the impudent minx, "You know, Vince, that wasn't on the list of herbs. But I liked that part of the herbology lesson the best."

"Me too," the young Slytherin agreed, then he gave a sudden laugh. "You are something else, Marietta."

"So are you, Vince," she said, then linked arms with him and continued walking. "How about next week you visit my house? It's on the outskirts of London. There are more things to see there than just Diagon Alley, you know."

"Sounds like a grand idea, Marietta. I just need to clear it with my folks."

"I'm sure Mum won't mind. She's been pestering me to let her meet you."

They continued walking and the sweet smell of crushed meadowsweet and heather surrounded them.

* * * * * *

The Forest of the Night:

Severus led Harry, Meadowsweet, and Vlad in his wolf form through the forest. Severus needed to brew more of the Curse Breaking potion, and some of the rare expensive magical ingredients could be found here. "Normally, I must send away from them, for they are plants not native to Britain and found in remote locations," he explained to his apprentice and Meadowsweet. "But I saw two of the main ingredients for the draft here as we traveled to Shadow Vale, and see no reason why I cannot harvest them and brew a new draft at the same time."

It was for this reason Harry and Meadowsweet were accompanying him, so they could learn the correct procedure for harvesting everbloom pods and illareth flowers. Both plants were rare ones that were used in potions of protection and the everbloom was a key component in the Curse Dissolving Elixir. Vlad was along to guard them from any unexpected wild creature or werewolf that might attack the small group of magical botanists.

Severus led them about a mile or so down the path from Sylvanor , walking slowly and deliberately, examining the tall majestic oaks and rowan trees as he went. After about fifteen minutes he halted and beckoned the two younger ones over. "See there, inbetween the rowan's roots, beneath the larger burdock?" His finger indicated a rather spiky bright green plant with teardrop shaped purple flowers hanging off it. "The everbloom likes the shade, and the soil inbetween trees like oak and rowan. It only blooms every six months, however, and the best time to harvest it is now, at dusk, for it loves the nighttime best." He knelt beside the plant and pulled a small pair of shears from a pocket, sharpened to a fine edge.

"The pods are inside the cup of the flower, but you should handle the plant as little as possible with your hands, because continued contact with skin reduces the potency of the pod. So you cut the flower with shears, like so." He snipped the flower off the stalk and caught it in a small bowl. "To extract the pod you cut the flower open," he carefully slit the flower up the side with the shears. Then he spread apart the flower and revealed were five softly glowing milky lavender pods. "The juice from these pods is equal to about a ¼ c and all of the juice must be extracted. That is why it costs so much to buy this ingredient through an apothecary, because such care must be taken when harvesting."

He looked up to see how his students were absorbing the lesson, and found Meadowsweet listening intently to his lecture, but to his annoyance, Harry was gazing, not at the everbloom pods, but at the girl next to him, wearing what Severus often called a "dreamy mooncalf idiot" look, his eyes all glazed over with admiration for the young woman in question.

"Harry!" he rapped out. "Pay attention! Someday you may need to harvest these or brew the potion if I am not around and this is a critical point I'm making. Now focus!"

Harry immediately jerked his eyes off Meadowsweet, flushing guiltily. "Sorry, sir. What did you say?"

Severus gritted his teeth, but went over the lecture again. "Next time pay attention to me, not your classmate," he rebuked stingingly, and watched his ward turn the color of a cranberry.

Harry wanted to smack himself upside the head for being so bloody enraptured with Meadowsweet, and he also wanted to smack Severus for pointing it out so bluntly and embarrassing him past bearing. He stared at the ground instead, flushing and fuming.

"Very well then. I shall harvest two more flowers and then I will have enough for two vials of potion. It's important to never deplete all the flowers on a plant, because the plant will die. Always leave a few flowers to encourage the plant to bloom again."

"Severus, why is the plant called everbloom?" asked Meadowsweet.

"Its name is a bit of a misnomer. The name actually refers to how the plant blooms every six months, not that it blooms forever. Some apothecaries refer to it as glowpod, because of how the pods glow when exposed to the open air."

"Oh, I see. And how do you extract the juice?"

"With the flat side of a dagger, crush it, don't chop it. All of the juice will be extracted that way."

He carefully extracted the pods from two more flowers and then used a tweezer to put the pods gently in a pouch. Then he stood up, dusted off his robes and moved on down the path.

"The illareth flowers grow inbetween rocks and also like the shade," he continued his lecture, pointing out how the illareth was very delicate and needed to be harvested with tweezers, each individual blossom plucked carefully so as not to crush it. Those he left in the small bowl and sealed it with a spell. "Illareth must be added whole to the solution in order to gain the greatest effect, another reason why this elixir is so difficult to brew."

After gathering what seemed like an abundance of flowers, assisted by his apprentices, Severus declared it was time to return to Sylvanor and begin brewing the Curse Dissolving Elixir.

"Severus, why do the flowers have to be whole?" asked Harry, he had always wondered what the difference was between whole and crushed botanicals.

"Because crushing the illareth destroys the essence of the flower, and it is the essence which imbues the potion with the full curse dissolving properties," answered the Potions Master. "That's an intelligent question. It's good to see you're paying attention this time around, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded, then said quickly, "How long does this draft take to brew?"

"Three days, and I only have enough ingredients here for two vials. I shall show you the recipe when we return to the village, it is a complex potion and some ingredients can only be found in Britain and others here. I was not expecting our quest to use up all of my supply, these two vials must last us until I have time to brew more once we return to England."

"When will we be leaving?" Harry asked.

"As soon as the potion has been brewed." He caught his ward's look of dismay and said, somewhat sympathetically, "I am sorry, but we cannot delay our quest any longer. Our enemies are gathering and it is dangerous to linger here any longer than we must."

"I understand, Sev," Harry said, concealing a sigh. He knew how important it was to find all the objects before their enemies did, but he hated to leave Sylvanor, it made him feel at peace, not to mention Meadowsweet, who he wished to get to know much better.

Severus gave him a quick nod of approval, then began walking back towards Sylvanor, giving the two some privacy to say farewell and so forth.

Vlad ranged ahead and to either side of them, making sure no predator stalked them. The wolfen was amused at Harry's obvious infatuation-he didn't even want to assume it was anything more-with his packmate. He could understand how the wizard would be attracted to Meadowsweet, for she was quite pretty, though her no-nonsense attitude and stubbornness often intimidated any other male save Darkmoon. She ranked high in the wolfen hierarchy, both for her Healing magic and for her personality, which was that of a leader, but not overbearing, her authority was quiet, like a swift-running stream, but it could knock you flat given the right opportunity. For all her apparent gentleness, and she is gentle, she's not the submissive type at all, Vlad thought, chuckling inwardly. If he spent more time with her, he'd find that out real quick. There's steel beneath the silk and a wolf beneath the pretty girl. All of us know better than to get her hackles up, even me. She's Alpha female to Darkmoon's male, even though they're not mates.

Meadowsweet took Harry's hand and squeezed it gently as they walked behind Severus. "Go and do what you must, Harry. I will be here, waiting, as always. Your quest is more important than this feeling between us . . .for now."

He turned abruptly and gazed into her eyes, which had captivated him from the moment he had opened his eyes and saw her looking down at him. "I won't forget you, Sasha. You don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

She shook her head, her earrings chiming gently. "No. For you, and for Erik, I can be Sasha Atwater, the girl I was before the Ministry came and turned my life upside down. I was innocent then, and I am that no longer, having done things to survive that have stolen that innocence away."

"Like what?"

"I have killed, Harry. I am not always the gentle Healer. I have slain vampires and werewolves and once . . .a wizard who tried to harm me. There is blood on my hands."

"Mine too," he acknowledged softly. "I sent Voldemort to hell twice now. With luck, third time's the charm. It changes you, doesn't it?"

"Yes. But here, with you, I feel like that innocent girl I was back in England, who knew only love and only knew treachery and sorrow as an abstract."

"You make yourself sound old," he laughed. "And you're what, seventeen?"

"I feel old in here," the wolfen said, tapping her chest. "But with you, I feel seventeen."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's a very good thing," she said. "I never thought I would meet someone not a wolfen who would understand the darkness within me and not be afraid."

He reached out a finger and gently traced the curve of her cheek, discovering that his shyness was not overwhelming, for once. "I've faced my own darkness, like you. It doesn't frighten me, not anymore. Sev taught me that there is always a light burning in the darkness, and if you let it, it can guide you home."

"He was your light, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. He helped me the way nobody else could. Mostly because he had gone through some of the same things I had."

She nodded. "I could tell. He has that look about him-the look of one who has walked into darkness and lived to tell the tale. That's one reason why I trusted him and Darkmoon too. Because he would understand the things we had done to survive and not label us monsters or abominations like those coddled Ministry arseholes. The closest they've ever come to darkness is when they dim a lamp, and yet they sneer at us for being what we are. A wolf knows there is a time and a place for everything."

"I wish I didn't have to leave." Harry said regretfully.

"Someday we shall meet again, Harry."

"You say that like you believe it."

"I do. There's always tomorrow for dreams to come true."

"I wish tomorrow was today." He said, then he ran his hands tentatively through her hair, playing with the platinum strands. "So beautiful, like moonlight spun into reality."

"You're sweet."

"Good thing, because that's about as poetical as I'm gonna get."

"You don't fear the wolf in me."

"Anymore than you fear the hawk," he murmured, then he dipped his head and their mouths met in an abrupt kiss.

Harry felt at first that he was fumbling, but then something, some instinct deep within him, took over, and suddenly he was kissing the wolfen maid with a gentle fierceness he had never known. His blood thundered in his veins and he savored the taste of her, she made him feel more alive than he had ever felt, it was both wonderful and frightening. Wonderful because he could feel how much she loved kissing him and frightening because he knew he could not afford a relationship and he was unsure if he would be able to return as he wished.

When at last they broke apart, Harry said, "If I had a choice, Sasha, I would stay."

She put a finger to his lips. "I know. But it's not the right time. Finish what you've started, Harry Potter. No matter how long it takes, I will wait."

"I'll talk the Ministry into setting you free. I hate seeing anything caged. That's why as a hawk, I'm called Freedom."

"It suits you, Hawk-boy," she chuckled. "Good luck to you, Harry." She kissed him back, a brief kiss filled with longing. "Fly high and fast and be safe."

"I'll try." He shook his head, a wry look upon his face. "It's funny, but I was never really comfortable around girls, except for Hermione, but she's more like a best friend and a sister. I looked at them and thought, how could I ever talk to them, how could I find someone who sees me for what I am, just Harry and Freedom, and not The Boy Who Lived? How could they understand the way I grew up when they had a normal childhood and not a screwed up mess? And then you were there, looking at me, when I'd just awakened from that sleeping dart, and I just knew you were it. Does that sound totally nuts?"

"No. It sounds like you trust your instincts, and for that I am very grateful. Come, we ought to be getting back to Sylvanor. I don't think it's a good idea to keep Severus waiting."

"No, that's a very bad idea, trust me. Race you back?"

"You're on!"

Abruptly she blurred into the white wolf and began racing full speed up the path.

"Hey! You never said you'd be racing as a wolf!" he protested, then he traded flesh for feathers.

Kree-aarr! He called challengingly, increasing his speed to within a hairsbreadth of his top flight speed, until finally he began to inch ahead of Meadowsweet, because the sky was not filled with obstacles like the ground.

The white wolf and the red-tailed hawk reached the tree village at nearly the same time, with Harry winning by a mere foot, his talons brushing the tree that formed the round house a scant minute before Meadowsweet's paws did.

Freedom shrilled a victory cry, then flew down and changed back into Harry. "That was fun! But you could have told me you were going to change."

"Why? The surprise was half the fun," she laughed, changing back. "You are wicked fast in that form, Harry." She gazed at him admiringly. Then she turned and began to walk back to her hut, beckoning to Harry to follow. "Hurry, Hawk-boy. Before your mentor gives us the razor side of his tongue, eh?"

Harry obeyed, he had no wish to ruin this perfect day by getting Snape riled at him.

They arrived back at Meadowsweet's home to find Severus already crushing everbloom pods. Wordlessly, he pushed a dish of the glowing pods over to them, along with a shallow bowl and two small daggers, and the two began pressing the juice out.

Harry vowed to focus on making this draft, for Severus was right, you never knew when you were going to need to brew something, and preparation was nine parts of a successful endeavor. He quickly began to squeeze the juice from the beans, drinking in the heady aroma of the juice and the sweet refreshing scent of Sasha's favorite flower.

Severus watched the two prepare the pods like the hawk he became, making sure no mistakes were made, for he couldn't afford any childish errors at this stage, the pods were too rare to be wasted. Thankfully, both seemed to have brought their raging hormones under control and were focused intently upon their task. He returned to adding the other ingredients to the cauldron already bubbling, lecturing quietly as he did so, until the potion was simmering, and then they all helped Meadowsweet clean up before going to sleep.