(( OOC: Apologies for this insanely long introduction, and for forcibly removing your wands - let me know if you'd like to dispute it. ))

It was a dark and gloomy January evening when eight o'clock rolled round. The torches in the corridors ignited, casting globes of bright flame light at regular intervals, while the castle quietened for evening. The evening's meal was long past, and smell had dissipated, the Professors had almost all retired to their quarters or the staff room to put their feet up, and the students were either busy in their common rooms or the library studying. Few chose the first floor corridor to clinch romantically, Ignan was pleased to note.

Chance Ryker, Fauna Blake and Grace Eddy had been instructed to be there at five to the hour, and would have found his classroom and offices locked. He had no intentions of arriving on time and giving them the courtesy they had forgotten to show him in their last lesson. Which was why, as he rounded the corner, he saw three figures outside, no doubt debating how long to wait until his arrival before considering that he had forgotten their detention.

His limp, made worse by the winter weather was unfortunately troubling him that evening, and showing in his stride as he made his way down the corridor towards them. It was an irritation that had plagued him many years, and worsened in the cold. With a flick of his wand and a quiet mutter of reversal, he led them straight through to his office, without word.

The Defences Professor's office was up a short flight of stairs at the head of the classroom, which was unlit by candles as they passed, led by the Professor. The four ascended the stairs in silence, and stepped into the office, a solitary candle spluttering into life. As soon as the three students had stepped inside, the door shut firmly behind them. Though it was not clear, it had sealed behind them.

The solitary candle gave off hardly enough light for them all to see each other's faces in the dark, as the curtains were drawn against the window.
"Show me your wands." Professor Storm replied gruffly, and then tugged each of them from their hands with his, with the premise of examining them. There was understandable resistance in handing them over, a wand became much a part of you as a witch or wizard. However, detentions were not unusual to be carried out without their wands as punishment.

"Sit down." He instructed, and as he did, more of the candles around the room ignited,  illuminating the Professor's desk, and three wooden chairs before it, without arms. The walls were lined with books and bottles, and a map of Eastern Europe hung as a slight angle behind the desk beside the curtained window.

He deposited the wands into the top drawer of his desk, which promptly vanished to be solid wood, as if the drawer had never been there.
"It is so good of you to grace me with your company." He told the three seventh years, sitting down and leaning back in his chair. "We wouldn't want to fall out now." The corners of his mouth turned upward momentarily.

"I'm never one to waste your time, or mine, which is why I expect full attendance, and no cowardly abandonment unless you are carried out of my classroom unconscious or in mortal peril. Same for this evening." He reached behind his desk and lifted out a bottle of Elven wine, which he placed to his right on the desk, between him and the three students. He repeated the process until eight bottles sat between them on the desk, each exactly the same.

"I thought we might recap a lesson from the one you missed." He told them with a less than pleasant smile.

Fauna couldn't hide the disappointment in her face when Professor Storm limped down the hallway. She was hoping that their detention had somehow slipped his mind, even though it went against everything she knew about him. For a moment, she glanced down at his leg, at the limp, and felt guilty. The feeling quickly faded as he opened the door and led them up to his office in stony silence.

Their steps broke the silence and her breath sounded loud to her ears. The door shut behind them with an ominous finality.

He ordered the students to show their wands, and after a glance at Chance and Grace, she did so. As soon as the wand left her grasp, her fingers chilled. It was as if he'd asked for a bit of their soul.

Candles sprang to life, illuminating the worry that flitted across her face when he tucked the wands in a drawer out of sight.

She sat down with much reluctance.

He greeted them dryly, and then launched into a short but cutting admonishment. Cowardly abandonment? She saw nothing cowardly about Grace needing to leave, or Chance arguing with him. And Grace especially didn't deserve the insult right now. Fauna sucked in a breath and attempted to push her annoyance away.

When the professor started lining up the bottles along the desk, her stomach sank. She stared at them hopelessly, disbelievingly.

"I thought we might recap a lesson from the one you missed." He told them with a less than pleasant smile.

Oh, shite. It wasn't as if they'd had time to practice the spell on their own. And they didn't even have their wands. And was that real poison? It couldn't be.

Fauna looked at the professor with a wary expression. "We didn't leave to offend you, sir. It was just..." she glanced at Grace but didn't want to single her out. "I mean, we were worried, and... I'm sorry we ran out like that."

Fauna wasn't normally rude towards her professors, even the ones she didn't like. She actually respected Professor Storm and saw the value in what he was teaching, even if she disagreed, at times, with his cold manner and methods. She held onto some hope that he'd show the slightest bit of compassion tonight. Her words were likely futile, would probably invite a sneer, but she had to try.

Oh good, the whole dim lighting effect and confiscation of wands had already put Blake on edge. That hadn't taken long. He'd expected Eddy to be the first to crack, only she couldn't run weeping from the room... the door was locked, and he had her wand.

"We didn't leave to offend you, sir. It was just... I mean, we were worried, and... I'm sorry we ran out like that." Fauna apologised.

Straightening the eighth bottle out, he looked her in the eye, and smirked ever so slightly.
"As I told you this afternoon, Blake, nothing I teach during lessons is optional, or to be missed. Your apology, although too late, is understood."

He leaned forwards, and rested his forearms on the desktop looking over the tops of the wine bottles at the three students with the smirk still lingering on his aging features. No doubt the light was doing wonders to make him look all the older, though women did insist that low lighting was flattering...

"You have eight bottles of wine. Each exactly the same in seal, and type. Not the most wonderful vintage, not that it will concern any of the three of you. These eight bottles are the only thing between now and the end of your detention. The catch? Well, one of these wines has been poisoned, with no smell, and no particular taste. Even the volume of liquid in each bottle is relatively the same." He brought a candle slowly behind each of the bottles, to show the water level in each.

"To leave my presence this potentially very long evening, you must correctly deduce the poison bottle with proof by consumption. Oh, and of course you'll need these." He dropped three goblets the other side of the wine bottles, and then sat back.

"In your own time." He finished softly, curious to see how quickly they'd bolt for the door, or how swiftly Ryker would try and throttle him with his hands.

Grace was feeling slightly better about the turmoil in her life following the revelation she had made to Fauna and Chance earlier. Grace felt a small amount of regret that it had taken her so long in their time at Hogwarts to know the full extent of how amazing they were, especially as friends.

Even with the fuzzy good feelings that all spurred, it was not enough to overtake the feelings of doom that came with a detention. Especially one with Professor Storm. This caused Grace to feel horrible for having gotten Chance and Fauna into trouble. She had no problem accepting the full burden of this on her own shoulders and she was determined to make it up to them.

Grace was reluctant to give up her wand, mainly because it was an extension of herself and being without it made her feel naked. But considering it was deficient as far as DADA was concerned, she didn't see how it would offer her an edge in any kind of task that Storm put to them. She resolved that she could make do without it.

As she sat there across from the professor, Grace noted that the lack of light made him look more menacing than usual.
Or was that condescension that she saw?

She could not help but think that his usage of the word grace was a direct jab at her. Even if he had not meant it, the word hung in the air and mocked her.

It was on her tongue to defend herself about the cowardly abandonment claim but after Storm was quick to brutally rebuff Fauna's explanation, Grace knew that anything she said would be met with more of the same tone. Storm did not care to hear their 'excuses', no matter how valid they were.

She tilted her chin a little higher in defiance, determined to not let Professor Storm's actions make her any more miserable than she already was. She was almost tempted to test his patience by refusing to participate in the repeat of the class they had missed.

But Grace's curiosity got the better of her and she peered over at the bottles that he had set out for them. She knew that refusing to participate was not an option because it would further punish Chance and Fauna. So, she resigned herself to her fate after what she had done earlier in the day.

After a prolonged look at the bottles and after processing Storm's directives, Grace slowly turned to her partners in crime and told them, "Since it was my....problem....that got us into this," she began. "I can be the guinea pig...."

Her voice trailed off and even though she felt the urge to sneak a look at their professor, she did her best to ignore him.

"Since it was my....problem....that got us into this, I can be the guinea pig...."

It was going to be a long night then. Ignan thought to himself as he studied the three students intently. The poison wouldn't be very quick to react, and they wouldn't be leaving until they had figured out his puzzle. Would the other two let Eddy drink each of the wines in turn, or would they each drink some? There was a way that they each shared the responsibility equally, and could correctly find the poison without having to try one at a time and wait. Whether they would realise it, or indeed opt for it, was yet to be seen.

He steepled his fingers and rested the fingertips on his lips, eyes keen on the three students opposite, intrigued at how this would play out.

The lateness of Professor Storm was odd, but not entirely surprising.  He was likely making a statement about consideration for others, though it was incredible ironic considering how little consideration he paid his students and their well being.  Chance was deathly silent for quite some time...though in his mind he kept repeating one phrase over and over again: "Think o' Grace an' Fauna.  Think o' Grace an' Fauna.  Think o' Grace an' Fauna."  He never muttered a word of it...though perhaps occasionally his lips would move the faintest bit with his mantra of the evening.

For every indignity paid and every bit closer that Chance got to exploding in rage all over the aged professor...he recalled his theme and repeated it softly.  He bit his tongue more than once...and remained silent and submissive.  One problem was that his green eyes could not be silenced and were howling threats at Storm with every passing moment.  Storm's introduction wasn't starting things off well at all.  And neither did his treatment of Fauna.

Upon the cold, sadistic revelation of the poison problem...Chance glanced to each of the girls.  And now it was Grace's turn to receive Chance's full attention.  He shook his head with a furrowed brow. 

"M'rubbish at potions.  Only thing ah can think of is makin 'a blended antidote...an' we'll 'aveta remember Golpalott's 3rd Law 'ere.  But if yer thinkin' ah'm lettin' y'do it, Grace-yer daft.  'Sides...like ah said...m'rubbish at potions.  M'gonna need y'an' Fauna t'save m'sorry hide."

Was the professor really going to have 3 disobedient students getting smashed and/or killed because they'd cut a class to console a friend about to lose her mother?  It was all Chance could do not to strangle the life clean out of Storm right then and there.  The Gryffindor's Irish blood was boiling.

"An'...so ah don' ruddy die o' alcohol poisonin', besides th' wee lovely treat o' ACTUAL poison...guess we'd best be findin' some blood purifyin' spell, anti intoxicant somethin'r other.  Jes' a thought."

A smirk was not much better than a sneer, and Fauna could only stare at Professor Storm for a few moments as he explained their predicament. The eight bottles were poisoned. Poisoned! Fauna was tempted to leave, because she highly doubted even a professor would be able to get away with poisoning his students and giving them alcohol.

She glanced at the door. He had their wands. What if he didn't let them go?

Fauna looked at Grace, then Chance. Grace looked stubborn while Chance was brimming with anger at the professor. Neither of them looked like they were going to bolt.

So she'd stay too, she decided. She couldn't leave them here to figure it out on their own, especially when Grace was attempting to take full responsibility.

"No," Fauna told her with a shake of her head, then listened as Chance began to puzzle it out. She was rubbish at potions as well, so it looked like they were both depending on Grace's smarts here.

A blended antidote, or a blood purifying spell? Those were both good ideas, and might have worked if it weren't for one thing:

"We don't have our wands," she reminded him quietly, dejection in her voice. "So unless one of us thought to bring a potions kit to detention..." Fauna trailed off, glancing at Grace even though she knew it was hopeless.

Fauna looked over at the bottles in a row. Eight bottles. One poisoned. Prove it by consumption. She refused to glance at Storm and show how much this was getting to her.

And yet, Chance had mentioned a blended antidote. Blended?

"What if..." she started, looking at the goblets now. There were three of them, one for each of them. He could have given them one goblet. Or even let them drink straight from the wine bottles.

Maybe they were supposed to use the goblets?

"What if we mix the wines? Maybe put... I don't know, the first three into one goblet?" Fauna paused and looked at both of them. "And then... the first bottle, and the fourth and fifth into the second goblet? Something like that. We would all, well, take turns," she shrugged, running a hand through her hair. Fauna hoped she was on the right track, and glanced at her friends rather than the professor. She didn't want to face his smirk if she was wrong, and she didn't want his approval if she was right. Fauna wished he'd disappear from the room, really.

"I don't know," she repeated, biting her lip.

Ahh, Blake had twigged a clue. Perhaps she wasn't as dim as he occasionally wondered!

However, taking each one in turn would either mean a long night waiting for the poison to react each time (it would not be instantaneous by any feat - he wasn't that idiotic, and he knew which bottle it was should they drink it). However, Fauna was onto something with the blending.

The tricky part was how to blend them, with finding the poison definitively in the outcome. It would be pointless for them to poison themselves if they weren't sure which potion was the one for sure.

He was however surprised, and therefore pleased, that they hadn't tried the door, and were willing to play the game... After today he could well be out to kill the three of them, it wasn't beyond the stretch of human imagination, given the events of the last twelve hours.

Grace was content to wallow in self pity and remorse for her actions. Her depression had clouded her usually strong  judgment and enthusiasm for most challenging situations presented to her. Grace considered herself to be, if by nothing else than sheer will and perseverance, one of the best students in her year at not only potions, but most of her classes. Contrary to popular belief, this was not because she was overly competitive (even though in most cases this was true); it was mainly because she felt that she had to be in order to become a decent healer.

Grace released a breath and nodded at Chance's forceful affirmation that she was not going to shoulder the burden all on her own. She looked from his face to Fauna's and she realized that the three of them were a team. They had become a haphazard one by circumstances, but nevertheless, they were one and if they pooled their talents,she believed that they could conquer anything. Even though Grace was ambitious in her own pursuits, with folks like her cohorts, she could recognize their strengths when they exceeded hers. Relying on each other would be important in getting further in their task.

She let out another breath. "Potions. Right." She closed her eyes and tried to shove all of her personal thoughts out of her mind and focus on the task at hand. At first, she was so engrossed in trying to work out the little riddle that she wasn't paying attention to Chance and Fauna going back and forth about the blood purifying spell. But she did hear the bit about lack of wands and she cast a wry glance at their professor.

She quickly averted her gaze again, refusing to let him see that she might be struggling or that the thought of begging for the wands back ever occurred to her. She would not give him the satisfaction of besting them.

"Okay..." She surveyed the scene again, eyes moving quickly from one glass to the next until she had settled those brown orbs on all eight in turn, as if that alone might unlock the tell tale signs. She murmured, "Eight wine bottles....one night...three potential victims. At the end of the night, we need to know which one is poisoned without guessing..."

Her voice trailed off as she slipped out of her seat and moved to the chalk board. Since they were without wands and she did not come prepared with a quill and parchment, it would have to do as a tool to help her map all the possible outcomes. Most of what she wrote was scribbled nonsense that would be hard to understand to anyone but herself. But eventually Grace wrote out the following:

Step 1
1+5=Grace (A)
2+6=Fauna (B)
3+7=Chance (C)
4,8=?

Step 2
If A, B and C are not poisoned, then any can drink from 4. If they are fine, then it is 8.
If someone is poisoned, then two are left to drink whichever two are suspect.

Grace turned to Chance and Fauna, still not certain if it made sense. "Maybe this?"

The Professor remained silent, watching.

Grace was on the way, but had not quite achieved a whole answer.

He was however, impressed with the way she had taken charge of the matter, after being so backward and confidence-lacking in class. Pity he was forcing them to take life or death matters into their hands before she crawled out of that shell and applied herself fully.

No matter, it didn't concern him quite so much after this dreadful day, but he was keen to see the reaction of the other two as to how to achieve a perfect solution.

It had taken mere moments, but Grace's practical mind and gritty determination seemed to have taken over the little detention session. She had plenty of personal woes to cloud her mind, but having a project upon which she could thrust her efforts certainly helped deter her energies.

One thing that could be said of Grace was that she was a do-er. Once her mind was focused on something, she had a habit of throwing her entire weight behind it. Whether it was doing whatever was required to ace her classes, or practice quidditch or singing as much as she could to do well for a part, she was committed. That tenacity could be somewhat off putting and exhausting for her classmates, but for any who needed a swift kick in the arse to get their own energies flowing, she could easily provide it.

Grace felt the professor's gaze on her for a moment and she briefly raised her eyes to meet his, a haughty glare fired in his direction. She could only imagine that what he was thinking was fraught with heartlessness. Or was he looking so smug because her answer was wrong? Either way, she refused to let him win.

The Gryffindor prefect then turned her attention to her classmates, seeing the looks of puzzlement on their faces. Or was that fear? Did they trust that she knew what she was doing? What was more, did she trust herself?

Grace took a deep breath and looked over both the board and the bottles again. She chewed on her lower lip and then mused out loud. "That's how it could happen....but how about this. If we each drink a strategic combination of the wines, that could reveal to us where the poison is as well. For example, if we all drink a certain one and we all get sick, that's it. Or if we all don't drink a certain one but we have drank all the others, then that will be it."

Grace gave Fauna and Chance a reassuring look. And before returning to sit beside them, she reached out and snatched up the first bottle of the wine or would-be poison. "We can start with this one and all drink it. then we can go from there with different combinations." She raised her brows hopefully and said, "So? We ready? Bottoms up?"

Fauna was impressed by Grace's ideas and grateful that she'd taken charge of their little assignment. Her reasoning sounded right to her, and it was nice to see her with the usual confidence that sometimes got lost in Defense class with a critical professor like Storm.

Take that! Fauna smiled and offered her friend a nod of encouragement.

When Grace sat down again and picked up the first bottle of wine, outlining their plan and suggesting they drink, Fauna nodded automatically. Then her eyebrows knitted together in concern, and she glanced at the professor. She trusted Grace. That wasn't the issue. There was only so much the professor could make them do, however, and Fauna felt pretty sure that asking them to test wine for poison was not on the acceptable list.

She looked back at her two friends and shook her head. "Well, no. I don't think we should have to..." Fauna murmured hesitantly.

"We've got a theory. Grace figured out how it works. Why should we have to drink, then?" Fauna glanced at the professor and crossed her arms defensively. There was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she could complain to some very important people if he made them complete this task. And that he probably wasn't allowed to give students alcohol anyway, with or without the poison. Without their wands, what was the point? She wasn't going to flop around like a dying fish for his entertainment.

"If you're going to make us drink, we should at least have our wands back," Fauna stated, looking Professor Storm in the eye. "So if one of us gets sick... and it's really bad, we can try to do something about it." Rather than rely on a professor who served them poison for fun.

"That's how it could happen..." Grace reasoned, thinking aloud. Ignan listened intently, he could almost see the cogs in her head turning. He knew there was a bright and brilliant witch somewhere inside, but she was holding herself back.
"...but how about this. If we each drink a strategic combination of the wines, that could reveal to us where the poison is as well. For example, if we all drink a certain one and we all get sick, that's it. Or if we all don't drink a certain one but we have drank all the others, then that will be it." A potentially confusing response, but she was thinking the correct direction.
"So? We ready? Bottoms up?" Grace announced to the other two with assurance, snatching up the first bottle of wine.
"Well, no. I don't think we should have to..." Fauna cut in with a murmur. Ignan's interested and curious self-satisfied expression twitched with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh?" He asked.

"We've got a theory. Grace figured out how it works. Why should we have to drink, then?" She glanced at him and crossed her arms defensively.
"If you're going to make us drink, we should at least have our wands back," Fauna stated, finally meeting his eyes. "So if one of us gets sick... and it's really bad, we can try to do something about it."

Ignan gave a less than reassuring smile at the three of them.
"Whatever makes you think you'll need them?" He asked. "As I said at the beginning - to leave my presence this potentially very long evening, you must correctly deduce the poison bottle with proof by consumption." Whether three, unarmed students could attack him successfully hopefully would not have to be tested.

"Eddy has the correct idea, Blake, I commend her for it. Though, the task still stands." He looked from one to the other of them. "I know it takes a lot to stand up and give a speech of how narrowminded I am, or walk away knowing that you will reap the consequences later, or accept there is nothing that can be done. Though where has that self assurance, that friendship got you now? There is only one route out of this situation, and each of you know exactly what it is. The real question is if you can." With that, he sat back and fell silent once again, keen to see if Grace continued with the bottle.

Chance had had enough.  He couldn't bear one more snide, condescending comment from this coldhearted, egotistical quack that called himself a professor.  Fear had been replaced by a growing rage, a wild yearning from deep within that warred against his practical sensibilities.  Chance snatched one of the eight bottles of wine...popping the top carelessly and taking a quick swig.  He then slammed the bottle down hard enough that it half surprised him that the bottle didn't shatter or at least crack.  Chance stared defiantly at Professor Storm for a few moments, before a sideways grin crawled over his lips.

"Jes' waitin' t'see 'ow much more you'll ruddy yap yer 'ead off 'fore it explodes'r we all keel over from boredom."

For what was a potentially fatal test...Chance decided that "Death comes for us all.  And all we can do is smile at it when it comes."  He wouldn't give Ignan that satisfaction of breaking his spirit...even if it killed him.

"Ah must've dozed off somewhere in that 18 hour mad ramblin'...so 'ow long till we know ah'm poisoned'r not, so I can knock out another one o' these lid'l beauts?"

Chance placed the bottle away from the other 7...distinguishing it as one that had now been "tested."  Chance then snatched another bottle and clicked his teeth with his tongue a bit...waiting to begin the next.

Ryker began the testing swiftly, swigging from the first.  He slammed the bottle down in self satisfaction that he hadn't dropped dead on the spot.

"Jes' waitin' t'see 'ow much more you'll ruddy yap yer 'ead off 'fore it explodes'r we all keel over from boredom. Ah must've dozed off somewhere in that 18 hour mad ramblin'...so 'ow long till we know ah'm poisoned'r not, so I can knock out another one o' these lid'l beauts?"

"Longer than that." Ignan replied quietly, but perfectly audible. "So you better get on with it before you waste my time."

With trepidation but some confidence now, the three seventh years divided the drinking to ensure each of them had equal risk, and could identify the poisoned one. The eighth bottle remained in its place at the end of the line, and Ignan remained silent throughout until each of the bottles had been tested, apart from the final bottle. He observed it all from behind steepled fingers.

Making a show of looking at his pocket watch, and indeed, noticing the time had gone a lot further than he had anticipated, he muttered,
"Will only be a few minutes now. I suppose I better remember where the antidote is..." he got up to rifle through some of the bottles on his shelves lazily. When he tired of teasing, he turned back to his desk, and looked very carefully at the three inebriated seventh years.

"Anything?" Professor Storm asked, stood behind his desk, "No, well, you didn't think I'd actually poison you, did you?" He pulled the eighth bottle towards him and uncorked it, pouring it into a saucer left over from a cup of tea one of the house elves had brought in the morning, and he had instructed them to leave until he retired for the night.

The wine, for all intents and purposes looked exactly the same, and smelt no different. Reaching an arm into a tank of mice he kept for some of the more bloodthirsty animals that the school possessed for defences lessons, he pulled one tiny mouse out by the tail, which wriggled and squeaked as it dangled in air. It wouldn't make a good meal for any beast.

Still holding its tail between thumb and forefinger, Ignan dropped it on the desk beside the saucer, where it proceeded to get its tiny feet wet, and clean itself, and then twenty seconds later, dropped dead suddenly, absolutely motionless upon the wood desktop.

Leaving the dead rodent in the pool of poison, he retrieved the quill on his desk from the ink pot and scratched out a note in his own hand to give reason for the three seventh years to be returning to their dorms from his office after time. Signing it, he tapped the top parchment and made two further copies.

"It is after curfew, and any Professor that comes across you will wish to hear a good explanation. I doubt any of them will believe I've been trying to poison you, especially with the smell of wine on you." He thrust a pile of three parchments at them, one for each of them, as they had to go to three different houses.
"These will excuse your tardiness on the way back at the very least. Though I would not have had to if you had a little more intelligence to solve this."

He tapped the drawer of his desk, releasing it, and unlocked the door in another swift movement. He reached in and grasped the three wands inside the drawer, before extending them in one hand to the seventh years, his own wand poised should there be retaliation.
"You are dismissed. I do not wish to see any of you back in this office again. Go."