Outfit.

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It was early afternoon. Most students were out and about, soaking in the sun. The day was a bit humid, and it was obvious it was going to rain soon, so hardly anyone was roaming the halls. And definitely not the dungeons. Beatrix was thankful for this fact as a familiar wavering began to form in her cauldron, her potion becoming unstable. She ducked down just in time for the contents to explode, splattering the table with golden puddles. It had made a rather large bang, but as Beatrix sat under the desk, drops of the potion dripping down next to her skinny legs, no one came to see what was wrong. She let out a sigh of relief and popped back onto her feet. She enjoyed spending her weekends in the dungeons. Not only because she was close to those cute Slytherins, but because no one was around to notice her making potions for hours at a time.

Today's mess up was rather big on Beatrix's part. Usually she never made a mistake, but she was testing a new recipe. She had never needed to brew mandrake draught, as she had never had someone petrified right in front of her, but she always wanted to try new things. It also helped that she saw her cousin at the St. Mungo's booth on Career Day. She decided to make him a little gift, in case he was really planning on being a healer. Beatrix had a dream of being like Dazmond one day, illegally selling potions to whoever the hell wanted to pay her. She could help Razzy if he were to start his own clinic. Beatrix didn't picture him actually managing to do something like that in his life. But it was the thought that counted, right?

Beatrix had to steal a mandrake from Blair in order to brew the potion. The woman would be furious, obviously, if she found out. But Beatrix didn't plan on her finding out. If she hadn't taught her students how to protect themselves from a mandrake's scream and how to get it to shut up afterward, Beatrix wouldn't have been able to snatch it. It was totally her fault. Beatrix knew that excuse wouldn't fly by so well with the professor if she confronted her, but she could lie to herself well enough.

With a flick of her wand, the dripping mess, and what was left in the cauldron, evaporated into the air. She hummed a small tune and unwrapped the remnants of the mandrake she had stolen. She had used half for the batch that exploded, so she didn't have much to work with. But Beatrix didn't pout or bat another eyelash. Normally, Beatrix would become frustrated or disheartened if she ruined something she had been working so hard on. But potions took patience. She learned long ago that she would have to get used to redoing potions. She was a fairly excellent potioneer, especially for someone her age, but she wasn't perfect. She couldn't do everything exactly right every time. Even so, sometimes a mistake made Beatrix's potions ten times better. They were delicate things.

The prefect rolled up her sleeves and began to prep her cauldron once again. Heating it to just the right temperature and filling it with just enough of the sticky liquid the recipe called for. She wondered if this time she should slice up the mandrake, rather than placing the whole thing into the concoction. She pondered this for a moment, waiting for the liquid to boil. She hardly even heard the echoes of someone's footsteps entering the potions room...

Henry Somerville was one of the few students who had decided to stay inside, deciding that his time would be better spent perfecting one of the many Charms that he would need to master for his N.E.W.T examinations. The 7th year Ravenclaw was now, simply, wandering around the vast castle. Although his last school year was upon him he knew that his knowledge of the castle was far from complete; infact one of he professors had told him that virtually every day the castle through something new at him. When he had heard this Henry's thirst for knowledge had reared it's head and he was determined to learn as much as he could before he left the castle.

As Henry was walking through the maze of corridors that made up the lower levels of the castle he heard what sounded like an explosion. A few years ago he would of ran toward the source of the sound in case someone had been injured, but seven years at Hogwarts had taught him explosions are common place in the magical world-especially where potions are concerned. However Henry decided he should go and have a look, just in case, but he also believed there was no real hurry.

He slightly quickened his pace, his robes no longer tread upon the ground but where raised gently as he moved. The aroma of Potions soon caught up with him and a smile crossed his face. Henry loved Potions and he had decided on a career in potioneering, though he would never sell them illegally and he thought people who did were not usually the best of people. Potioneering easily topped a list of his best magical skills. His second would be dueling, though many would underestimate the shy academic.

Henry's face changed from a smile to a wrinkled frown when he saw that no one had ran screaming from the classroom, called for help or peaked their head out of the door to see if a teacher was nearby. His mind began to wonder. Was it a teacher? Was someone injured and unable to do anything? Or had the person who caused the explosion fine and had simply carried on? Henry soon reached the door from which the explosion had originated. He saw no one at first but within a few seconds a student, who appeared younger than himself, stood up. He noticed the mess that had been created, almost certainly due to a Potion accident, the younger student waved her wand and the liquid evaporated.

She looked fine but Henry wanted to make sure. As she began to create a new batch he entered the room. Henry didn't like meeting new people. But he decided he should see if she needed assistance, afterall it was the right thing to do. "Excuse me," he interupted, "but are you ok? Do you require any assistance?" His voice was steady but Henry was rather nervous. He was not good with people, period, but he was even worse with girls. And being in a room alone with one was not something he was accustomed to.

He saw the mandrake. He wondered if someone had been petrified recently.