Now this stirring was exhausting. Five long never ending minutes. As he expected the colour of his potion was still mustard yellow. "Oh well," the Ravenclaw thought to himself, "at least it's not exploding."

A twitch of disappointment he felt inside, he thought that maybe for once he would brew a successful potion. Ahhh... well he had least another two years of brewing. It wasn't an encouraging thought.

Aymeric heard a question about the missing ingredient in the procedure - liquefied Antimony. Hmmm... curious. Probably the answer would come at the end of the brewing. Frankly, he was quite interested.

Five minutes of stirring have ended, Hurah!

One by one, he placed Wiggentree bark on the surface of the potion, individually he pushed each strip to the inner wall of the cauldron. What could he say, this was absoultley exhilarating. Impatience began running in his system, he wasn't used to this feeling - he most certainty did not enjoy it.

With his wand, the Ravenclaw turned the heat to medium. His right leg was beginning to bounce, waiting for the potion to boil seemed to take ages. Once the potion reached its' boiling stage, Aymeric crushed the five Betony leaves and added them to the potion. He let out once again a sigh.

Not only wasn't Aymeric enjoying himself, he was not pleased with the results. His potion wasn't Sapphire blue, it was just blue - one of the darker shades of blue. He bit his lip, and frowned knowing he had to stare into this blue potion for the next five minutes. Honestly, too much waiting.

The five minutes past uneventfully. He pointed his wand at the small fire beneath the cauldron and the flames went out. Now another fifteen minutes. His leg was bouncing, the goggles were pressing too hard against his face. He hated complaining, but since he was feeling impatient it was bound to happen. Remembering when the professor asked what were the benefits of poisons gradually made his mood worse and bitter.

The needed time past. The Ravenclaw with whatever remained of his concentration and focus, used a 'scourgified' Pasteur Pipette and filled up three glass phials of this 'not-sapphire-yet-murky-dark-blue' antidote. This wasn't failure but it was a slight disappointment. Aymeric wasn't a perfectionist but he thought he could do better than this. He labeled the phials with his full name, house and year.

He scraped the dreg, with whatever motivation the third year had left. He placed it in a tin box as needed. With his wand he drew the Asclepius Staff and mumbled, "Venenum Inverto". There he was DONE!

Aymeric stared at the clock, and waited. Waited for everyone to finish. Waited for this lesson to end.