The flicker of lamplight played upon the stone walls of the dungeon classroom, casting long, crawling shadows across shelves brimming with sealed jars and darkly glittering vials. The air was thick with the rich scent of brewed nettle, ozone, and the faint copper tang of ingredients better left unnamed, but with which the student who had had detention with Meserimus earlier this week was all too familiar. Meserimus stood behind the iron lectern, his long fingers resting on the edge of the lecturn

"Settle down, please," he intoned. "Tonight’s assembly is not for the faint-hearted nor the careless. We shall be examining those components which taint the craft as readily as they empower it." His grey eyes swept the gathered students, from the wide-eyed first-years perched nervously at the back to the senior members of the Potions Club.

On the table before him, beneath a shimmering Stasis Charm, rested several carefully arrayed specimens, each selected by its presenter and provided by him for visual clarity.

"Ythank you to all those who have prepared papers for us this evening," he smiled at them from under his beard. "in acknwoledgement of the work involved, each presenter will recieve 10 house points, and the best presentation of the day will recieve an additional 20"


He paused, allowing the whisper of unease—and excitement—to drift through the chamber. "Let us begin!" His eyes fixed on the gathering with a spark of grim amusement. "Who among you will open our symposium?" he said, returning to his chair, turned auditorium style towards the leturn.