Post by MARA SYLVAN CRAVEN on Jul 7, 2023 9:03:41 GMT
Strands of hair turned from bright yellow to a deep purple as Mara Craven ran a hand through it. She huffed as she wrote down yet another failed potion recipe. She was working on an adjusted version of the amortentia potion, one that could be worn as a perfume. It wouldn’t mimic the effects of the potion itself. Some of her customers didn’t like toying with others’ emotions. Mara would never understand why they had such morals, but she didn’t question it. If they wanted her to make a harmless perfume she’d do it and then charge them through the nose for such a unique creation. She just had to get the proportions right or the mixture would be a completely failure like the one in front of her that had the distinctly sharp scent of metal. That was better than the ones she actually drank that had her infatuated with her own reflection until the effects wore off.
Mara still remembered the day she had been introduced to the love potion in her potions class. It had smelled like home before her home had been torn away from her. It had smelled like her fathers crups after they’d spent an hour splashing through hose water with her. That had been the first thing she’d picked up on, and when she had announced “It smells like wet dog” to the class she’d seen more than a few of her classmates wrinkle their nose. The next thing she’d picked up on was the unique scent of home baked cookies coming from the oven. That wasn’t tied to any specific memories, but she’d started tearing up anyway. The final scent was a unique blend she couldn’t quite name, but it reminded her of her mother and a flood of feelings poured through her. She remembered the woman as she was in her last days, slowly fading away in what had become a war zone of a house. She had put down the potion and walked out of the classroom, barely making it to the hall before she broke out into a run towards the bathroom.
That was what love had been to her in her first years at Hogwarts. Her family life was so engrained in her that she hadn’t developed true loves of her own. Of course, that hadn’t lasted long. The scent had long since shifted to smells of potion ingredients and wood burning in a fireplace, distinct against the crispness of the winter air that backed it. She supposed in summer the things she was attracted to would be different.
Mara knew exactly what scent she was aiming for now, thanks to the bottle of amortentia she had made a month ago when she’d started on this project. Some people said it took a skilled brewer to make the potion, but she’d made much more complicated potions for her little black market. There wasn’t anything she refused to make, regardless of why someone wanted it.
Mara used a flick of her wand to clean her cauldron, grateful it hadn’t exploded. She could deal with all the nasty smells in the world as long as they weren’t on her. She had plenty of experience with explosive failures that she knew what to avoid. Any time a potion started bubbling the wrong way she was quick to back away.
She chewed at the inside of her cheek as she debated what, exactly, had gone wrong this time. Too many rose thorns, or had they just been chopped the wrong way? Perhaps she was going wrong by following the original potion too closely. She wasn’t looking for some variation of infatuation, she was just trying to capture the basic essence of the potion’s smell. That could mean she didn’t need the ashwinder eggs or the moonstone at all. If she could pull it off with peppermint and rose petals alone she would try, but she didn’t know quite how she would engrain the magic she needed into such a basic mixture.
Mara wrote it down anyway with a giant question mark next to it before slamming her notebook shut. She had class in half an hour and she still had to do her makeup and change into her robes.
Mara still remembered the day she had been introduced to the love potion in her potions class. It had smelled like home before her home had been torn away from her. It had smelled like her fathers crups after they’d spent an hour splashing through hose water with her. That had been the first thing she’d picked up on, and when she had announced “It smells like wet dog” to the class she’d seen more than a few of her classmates wrinkle their nose. The next thing she’d picked up on was the unique scent of home baked cookies coming from the oven. That wasn’t tied to any specific memories, but she’d started tearing up anyway. The final scent was a unique blend she couldn’t quite name, but it reminded her of her mother and a flood of feelings poured through her. She remembered the woman as she was in her last days, slowly fading away in what had become a war zone of a house. She had put down the potion and walked out of the classroom, barely making it to the hall before she broke out into a run towards the bathroom.
That was what love had been to her in her first years at Hogwarts. Her family life was so engrained in her that she hadn’t developed true loves of her own. Of course, that hadn’t lasted long. The scent had long since shifted to smells of potion ingredients and wood burning in a fireplace, distinct against the crispness of the winter air that backed it. She supposed in summer the things she was attracted to would be different.
Mara knew exactly what scent she was aiming for now, thanks to the bottle of amortentia she had made a month ago when she’d started on this project. Some people said it took a skilled brewer to make the potion, but she’d made much more complicated potions for her little black market. There wasn’t anything she refused to make, regardless of why someone wanted it.
Mara used a flick of her wand to clean her cauldron, grateful it hadn’t exploded. She could deal with all the nasty smells in the world as long as they weren’t on her. She had plenty of experience with explosive failures that she knew what to avoid. Any time a potion started bubbling the wrong way she was quick to back away.
She chewed at the inside of her cheek as she debated what, exactly, had gone wrong this time. Too many rose thorns, or had they just been chopped the wrong way? Perhaps she was going wrong by following the original potion too closely. She wasn’t looking for some variation of infatuation, she was just trying to capture the basic essence of the potion’s smell. That could mean she didn’t need the ashwinder eggs or the moonstone at all. If she could pull it off with peppermint and rose petals alone she would try, but she didn’t know quite how she would engrain the magic she needed into such a basic mixture.
Mara wrote it down anyway with a giant question mark next to it before slamming her notebook shut. She had class in half an hour and she still had to do her makeup and change into her robes.
The mad genius totally isn’t crying over her work…