Gryffindor		Hufflepuff		Ravenclaw		Slytherin
Grace Eddy ☑ George Carter ☑		Matty Amherst ☐ Fauna Blake ☐ Adelia Delacriox ☐ Dion Fayette ☑ Tae-Song Toko ☐ Ruby Flickwick ☐ Charlie Robards ☐		Waker Nolan ☐ Edmund Klint ☐ Thatcher Grant ☐ Leon Monroe ☐ Zack Zhang ☐ Emily Flickwick ☐		Fir Cuween ☐ Gavin Snark ☐ Georgiana Trishna ☐ Maeve Whitman ☐

Please assume your character is already in class.

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euphoria |yoōˈfôrēə|
noun

a feeling or state of intense excitement and happiness : the euphoria of success will fuel your desire to continue training.

ORIGIN late 17th cent. (denoting well-being produced in a sick person by the use of drugs): modern Latin, from Greek, from euphoros ‘borne well, healthy,’ from eu ‘well’ + pherein ‘to bear.

SYNONYMS elation, happiness, joy, delight, glee; excitement, exhilaration, jubilation, exultation; ecstasy, bliss, rapture.
ANTONYMS misery.

The definition was scrawled upon the center-most blackboard, in Juliette's familiar, clear hand. It might have been silly for some, but she'd discovered in four months at Hogwarts that today's generation were woefully illiterate. Their slang, especially the hyper-British euphemisms, often gave the potioneer pause. So it was spelled plainly: 'euphoria.' And if it made the girls giggle or the boys elbow one another, at leas they weren't murmuring about "getting stuffed" or whatever lovely activities they carried out in their spare time.

"Assuming you completed your latest assignment, you will have read the passage on page 140, Euphoria, an Elixir to Induce." She scanned the room idly, taking in their expressions-- or appearing to. Juliette knew them well enough by now to have a good guess at who had (and who had not) done the readings. "We will not be brewing this today. I'd ideally like to save that for your very last class." She grinned, waiting for them to understand the little joke.

"But I'd like to open a discussion about mood-changing potions and the use and misuse of controlled substance. Your generation are among those most likely to seek mood stabilizers." A category of which this potion, clearly, was not. "Much of this has to do with advances in therapy and wizarding medicine, of course, but it's not the only reason, is it?" She eyed them again, not lingering too long on any one face. "Young people have quite the impressive record of... indulging in certain illicit brews, too. So, tell me, having read the history and components of this potion, what do you think of it? Are you itching to swallow a spoonful? Do you see yourself having use for it? Can it be dangerous? Abused? What other substances does it put to mind? Should it be controlled in certain environments? Places of work, Quidditch matches... school rooms? How does the theory differ from the practice? What is its principle function? I promise-- I won't tell Mummy."

Grace glanced briefly over what Professor Valaincourt had written on the board to facilitate the class discussion for the day. She flipped her book open and waited for the opening statements from the redheaded woman. She barely flinched when the reading was mentioned as it was a given that she had read it, even if she questioned how much of it had stuck. As their young instructor seemed to imply, most of the seventh years were no angels as far as engaging in recreational substances through the years. A wry smile fell over the Gryffindor prefect's lips as she craned her neck to sneak a look at George, Lou and Quinn. Even the straight laced Grace had happily experimented withGnarly Grass, among others.

She could see her classmates were trying to avoid the teacher's knowing gaze as she started to launch into a prodding inquiry about the extent of their trials with indulging in such things. Who wanted to be the person to admit to her any guilt, regardless of whether she assured them she wouldn't tell? That was just giving her more power, Grace defiantly thought as she crossed her arms in front of her. And the professors at Hogwart's already had too much power over them as it was. For the most part, as students, they had to submit. But why give up what little advantage they did have?

But feeling as though she should help save her class from a silence filled with the young professor's judgement, Grace decided to speak up and comment in a more clinical way, which everyone would expect from her anyway.

Clearing her throat, she spoke in as dull a tone as possible. “Well, I'm sure there's always going to be curiosity with such potions. Some will want to try it and others won't wish to take a chance that they might be the one person it will negatively affect. And I think that is the danger and ultimately the excitement of any mood altering substance. It is not the same for everyone. Controlling it is just as complicated. Some people will want to place restrictions on it for the dangers while others might want to keep control relaxed because of certain benefits.” Grace was careful to avoid the question about other substances that drew parallels to. And she was still wary of Valaincourt's claims that she wouldn't tattle if they shared too much information. Pursing her lips, Grace finally said very evenly, “But then you also have the people who just don't care either way. And maybe that's the majority.”

George didn’t mind Potions, even after the falling out with Waker. Not when he could stare at the professor unabashedly. And so he sat near the back, close to Grace and as far from the Ravenclaw crowd as he could manage. Before class, he tried to talk Ruby into sitting with them, offering her a seat next to him (in case it filled up before she realized her mistake of not taking it).

The board at the front, however, had him leaning forward and frowning to focus. Euphoria… that seemed like a word he should have highlighted in his personal dictionary. Which was in his head. He could get behind a word that involved exhilaration and rapture.

He crumbled up a bit of parchment and threw it at Grace, hitting her in the shoulder. Grinning, he motioned to the board and did some other hand motions to try and explain what he got out of it. George rolled his eyes at the mention of the assignment; he’d tried to read it. Mostly he’d bothered Grace about it until he figured he had it down.

At the mention of not brewing it, he leaned to the person next to him, smirking. “I’m clearly enough Euphoria for today.” It was said quietly, and was more about making comments than meaning it. Her joke was lost on him, however, and he pulled the quill from behind his ear, twirling it slowly around and between his fingers. He had a few days to decide what the weekend should entail. No brewing meant it might be nap time in the dungeons. It felt so cool and dark…

A discussion?! Snapping back from his day dreams, he frowned and stopped twirling his quill, sticking it back where it belonged. As Grace decided to answer, George interlaced his fingers behind his head and pushed himself onto the back two legs of his chair, enjoying the lean.

Laughing, he decided to respond to little miss your-new-best-friend up at the desk. And perhaps he was part of that majority Grace was mentioning. “Why not try something new? If the benefit outweighs the risk… and you’re safe about it, then have at it. We’re all young for a reason. We’re supposed to try the things we’re told not to so that we can tell the younger kids the same thing.” It was a never ending circle.

Juliette's eyes landed on Mr. Carter, whose reported talent for not letting balls get past his goal posts didn't mean he was as watchful of what fell into his cauldron. By accident or with purposeful curiosity. Whatever he was whispering, Juliette did not pause to ask-- she hated to be interrupted, but she let it slide, lest she get sidetracked in her philosophical provocation.

"You are right, Miss Eddy. Human beings are more often than not the variable. We react differently to identical doses of identical substances. But let us not forget that not every bottle labeled 'Euphoria' is going to be as strong... or weak... as a bottle of the same substance from a different Potioneer. Or dealer." Her eyes moved across the room, resting on one face here, another there. It was a word with which many of Hogwarts' little angels were familiar.

She did not forget George's chatty charms, and when he spoke up, rising to Juliette's challenge, she tilted her head, grinning devilishly, waiting like a predator to pounce on the young man's answer.

"What if that something new was brewed with spoiled ingredients, Mr. Carter? What if you didn't pay attention to the basic potions safety lessons because you were too busy whispering into your colleagues' ears? I'm afraid being bold and charming will only get you so far. Do you know how to use a bezoar? Do you know that certain substances grow in their tolerance of your body, just as you grow tolerant of them? What you took yesterday without thinking twice may very well be thrice as deadly to whomever takes it tomorrow. Many potions-- Amortentia, surely you're familiar with it-- only become stronger with prolonged disuse. Others have bacterial properties which mutate." She smiled again, more politely this time.

"Now, I am not saying you should live a sober, sheltered life. That would be decidedly... hypocritical. But have any of you ever had a bad experience with mind or mood-altering substances in your oh-so-long and knowledgeable lives? Do you think it's fair for people who have had bad experiences to ruin the fun for the rest of us? Should the Ministry have any say? What if one of these potions had numerous benefits for one distinct portion of the population. Say... the new breed of werewolves we've all been reading about? But it were highly lethal to everyone else? Would the Ministry's regulation be unjust? I know none of us like people peaking into our windows or bothering with our shopping lists. I certainly don't want the Ministry keeping track of which potions I take or am prescribed. But is this a justifiable desire for privacy?"

"After today's debate-- which is only just getting started-- I will expect each of you to attempt to persuade me with an essay on Euphoria. Do not neglect its properties, its base ingredients and their origins, its historical significance. Your argument must be supported with evidence and research, with works cited from at least two texts in the school library. Anyone needing permission to access the Restricted Section must consult with me after class."

Dion sat, his arms folded in front of him and resting on the desk and his hands cupped around his elbows. His eyes stayed mostly on Juliette, but Grace and George got glances as they spoke.

"Drinking any potions without being knowledgeable of their risks is foolish," Dion said, with a side glance to George. "Especially once with such a volatile effect, fun or not. With an effect like Euphoria you have to worry about addiction, as well," he added with a frown. "Even if it's not physically addictive, like cigarettes are, it can become emotionally addictive..."

The new werewolves. That had been something he'd shoved to the side of his mind; once an Auror he fully intended to dig into that, but for now all they could do was wait. It didn't feel right, but waiting was really the only way...

"If it can be used in that respect - beneficial to some, deadly to others - then the Ministry's regulation could be considered necessary, not just justified. Especially in the case of werewolves," he added with a scowl. "How many private dealers would 'accidentally' overdose their clients and hurt or kill them, if given the chance?" His tone was bitter.

Johann's first day back at work had been a half day, and he'd been almost glad to leave his desk for a late lunch in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade having flooed there from the Ministry Atrium. He scoured the Daily Prophet and the measley suggestions for rooms to rent in wizarding accommodation. He didn't want to end up in the likes of the cottage down the road which Vasily had been sharing when Johann had begged a few nights on his floor back in January.

He was looking forward to seeing Juliette again. Being with French family reminded him how many links there were between him and those he knew in Britain. He'd also written to ask Juliette if she needed anything - and she had invited him to visit that afternoon. Even if Johann was still anxious to see Colin, but equally awkward about all the fuss in the media about his disappearance. Given the two friends had been a little at odds before it all... Johann wasn't sure how to approach it.

Believing Juliette not to be teaching, Johann was directed to her classroom on gaining entry to Hogwarts with all its extra security, and knocked politely on the door to the classroom, hearing voices within.

Cracking open the door, Johann peered round and noticed there were students at the work benches.
"How many private dealers would 'accidentally' overdose their clients and hurt or kill them, if given the chance?" One of the students - older ones by the look of it - was addressing Juliette.

Johann paused, holding the door ajar, as heads swivelled to look at him.
"Sorry Jul- Professor Vaillancourt." He uttered "I'll come back later, you're teaching."

"Excellent point, Mr. Fayette. Which means--"

"Sorry Jul-"

The knock resonated, the door opened, the familiar voice began to apologize. Juliette's mane of red swept after her cheek like a shadow as her attention was drawn to the threshold where Johann stood. A smile crept across her lips like a cat's pupil's dilating with delight when it cornered its prey.

..."Professor Vaillancourt."

A laugh escaped her despite the rows of children seated before her.

"I'll come back later, you're teaching."

"No, no, Johann. Don't be silly! You're exactly on time." Brow raising casually, she drew her wand and waved it at the door. An invisible force nudged at Johann, encouraging him into the room, before the door began to swing shut. "I did say today, and here you are. Only... I've forgotten I had a class, silly me," she lied plainly. "But perhaps you'd like to help me teach? We're discussing Euphoria. And addiction. Care to give your insight?"

She turned from Johann, to the class. "Mr. Storm-- yes, that Storm, before you ask-- is a renowned linguist. He works for the Ministry." She paused a moment, letting it sink in. The introduction would make it harder for her dear friend to refuse without very good reason. "What do you think of mood altering potions?" Her eyes bore into his, giving him little choice but to speak up or Disapparate. And as the latter was impossible at Hogwarts...

"No, no, Johann. Don't be silly! You're exactly on time." The next thing he knew he was pushed into the classroom and the door closed behind him unaided. Looking startled, he glanced from the students to Juliette for explanation.
"I did say today, and here you are. Only... I've forgotten I had a class, silly me, but perhaps you'd like to help me teach? We're discussing Euphoria. And addiction. Care to give your insight?"

Johann narrowed his eyes a moment thoughtfully. This poor attempt at lying and the way he'd been pulled into the classroom indicated most certainly a set up. If Ignan had anything to do with this...

"Mr. Storm-- yes, that Storm, before you ask-- is a renowned linguist. He works for the Ministry." Johann, still hovering by the door, paused inquisitively.
"What do you think of mood altering potions?" She posed. Johann's eyes slid to one side as he considered the question, and he stepped sideways out of the doorway to be beside the front row of students. Here he found a bench up against the wall to lean against while he slid his hands into his pockets.

"Well..." He began, considering the context of euphoria and addiction. "Mood altering potions are sometimes required in medical applications. Calming potions used to control anxiety in a patient who is in distress over losing a limb say, or severe obliviation," he thought of Francis mentioning his wife was given a regular dose of something to keep her daily shock of waking up to find herself in St Mungo's in control. "Then, equally, the ones that make you a little happier are used for the most upset of the population who find it hard to cope, but healers are so very careful to restrict access to such potions." Johann smirked ever so slightly, thinking of the pharmacy at the hospital, where he'd talked his way into distracting the staff while he swiped that little blue bottle of sleeping potion. The one Hannah and Colin had later told him he should have been diluting - no wonder his tastebuds had been off.