His eyes tracked Miss Beery’s entrance without comment - save for the rub of his unkempt scruff with the palm of his hand. He had seen enough students arrive either dragging their feet as though burdened by the weight of the castle itself or rushing in like prey pursued by an acromantula, panicked at the notion of tardiness. This middle ground efficiency, neither sluggish nor frantic, was tolerable. He noted the purposeful way and almost ritual neatness with which she aligned her tools and just may have cracked the tiniest of amused smiles.


Right.

Oh goodie.

Naturally, Miss García Massey was here. Gryffindor blondes, in his experience, were reliably synonymous with Thurisaz and governed by some cosmic law he had long since stopped questioning but could never quite accept. A faint prickle of exasperation sparked as she made her way in and all the way to the back, each step surely carrying the determination of a girl intent on trouble. Yet… against his better judgment… something quieter bubbled beneath, something almost like admiration. Here she was, sleeves rolled up and (he hoped) ink-free, carrying herself with an air he couldn’t quite sort out. Best to keep a particularly watchful eye on her during this lesson… or, perhaps more realistically, to ensure she was paired with a competent older student before the room (or his patience) ended up in cinders.


Cox looked up from the brass scales he had decided to calibrate for the fourth time while he waited when the brothers walked in, completely taken aback initially by the greeting. No logic behind the surprise in his eyes, just responding to the sudden cut in the silence of the classroom. “Good day, Mr. Grunt,” he acknowledged with a brief incline of his head. He noted, with a faint twitch of amusement, how carefully the Slytherin threaded his way through the classroom. Sensible, given the company he routinely arrived with.

Said company arrived half a step behind him but more than several ticks louder as the “Hi, Professor!” hit the air with all the subtlety of a Filibuster Firework. He would, perhaps, like to modify his previous thought regarding Gryffindors. Cox’s brows ticked up, unimpressed but not entirely unamused. “Mr. Grunt the Younger” he , greeted dry as parchment. Well, dry as parchment should be. “I see you’ve brought your usual… enthusiasm. Do try not to inhale so deeply that you fall into a stupor before we’ve even begun.”


His gaze flicked briefly toward the front row as Mr. Greenwood settled with all the gravity of one merely enduring the company of mortals. Familiar. Predictable. Almost uncomfortably kindred in the way he carried himself, though Cox would never indulge the thought aloud. Like the other silent arrivals, his presence was acknowledged with a polite nod and nothing more. Still, the boy’s punctuality was a constant - one of the qualities Cox could admit to appreciating.


Aurora’s cheerful greeting and wave earned little more than the barest nod from Cox, though it wasn’t for lack of familiarity. If anything, it was the unfortunate opposite.

He knew far more about Miss Bay than was strictly professional, courtesy of his niece and nephew’s endless chatter. Through no fault of her own, the girl’s name and habits had been stitched into his awareness long before his return to the castle this year . And so, perhaps to over compensate, he found himself leaning into distance where a sliver of warmth might otherwise have been natural.

"Miss Bay," he replied, voice polite but clipped. Hopefully the influence of the little Ravenclaw blonde they had in common would show itself. He returned his attention to the lecture notes before him a little sooner than necessary, letting her slip into her seat as though she were any other student.


Miss Webb’s cautious cheer was certainly not lost on him, nor the deliberate way she avoided disturbing so much as a quill or, perhaps, even the air around her workstation. Sensible. See? That previous incident with ink and runes had made some sort of positive impression after all. Cox inclined his head to her greeting, allowing the corners of his mouth the barest flicker of a smile, as he returned the gesture. "Good day, Miss Webb. Good to see your sleeves in mostly spotless condition today."


He returned Miss Rustokova’s warm tone with a measured nod and considerably cooler words. “Hello, Miss Rustokova.” Open-mindedness was not a quality one could see, but he hoped her manner was indication enough that the sentiment would carry through. He made a brief mark on his parchment before glancing down at his forearm that had become uncomfortably itchy quite suddenly as the bindrunes inked into his skin began to warm.


Her bright greeting carried the same warmth as he had come to expect from the seventh year, and he met it with his usual even reply: "Miss Montmorency." His eyes flicked briefly back and forth between her and Miss Bay, one brow raising at the sideways caret remark, but he chose not to intervene. At least she had not called it something juvenile like 'greedy gator'.

It was likewise fitting, perhaps, that the bindrunes in his arm chose this moment to intensify their bristle. Still, he made no correction - there was no causation to this correlation, after all. Better to let the rune itself impress its meaning than for him to swat away every mistaken comparison. Besides, they had a lesson to begin.

Some might beg to differ. But he had asked a question so he really had no other option than to point a finger at himself.

"Marsh…mallows," Cox repeated, the faintest twitch of his jaw betraying a struggle between an amused chuckle and disapproving scowl. "Yes, I imagine some found their time on the pyre more… palatable than others. You are correct that the Flame-Freezing Charm rendered Muggle executions into inconveniences at best. What is worth noting is the duality you illustrated in your example. To some, fire as a force of destruction… to others, a disguise. A reminder that perspective, as much as spellwork, shapes how we interpret fire."


His eyes shifted briefly to Miss Clean-Sleeves-For-Now, her frown not escaping his notice while the coals in the brazier released another loud POP . "An astute observation, Miss Webb. Innovation, after all, is not always progress… nor is tradition always wisdom. Fire has indeed tethered us to certain ways of life long after Muggles found alternatives. Yet, it remains our most constant tool in disciplines such as brewing brewing. A foundation and, depending on one’s perspective, a limitation."


"Well considered, Miss Beery," Cox nodded. "You’ve rightly noted that control is the deciding factor. Fire can shape metal into tools, warm the lost, or reduce cities to ash. Fiendfyre especially - arguably our most infamous example discussed thus far - reminds us that magic without mastery is nothing more than ruin in waiting. Transformation, of course… but always double edged."


…indeed.

Moving on.
"Incendio," Cox repeated evenly, giving the boy a small, deliberate nod while resuming rubbing his forearm. "A spell we arguably rely on daily and one far too easily perverted into cruelty. You’ve caught the duality well, Mr. Grunt. Sit in your unease - a wizard who forgets the weight of fire’s dangers is already half a danger himself."


Fiendfyre certainly was a hot topic in this discussion, but that was only to be expected.
“Fiendfyre." Cox’s tone was razor-sharp but not necessarily unkind. “Among the most volatile magics ever devised…an inferno that devours even its caster more often than its target. And yet…" he allowed the faintest hint at something light to tug at his voice, “it was that very feral nature which reduced a Horcrux to ash. History is not without irony nor its nods to duality of cause." His gaze flicked briefly over the room, lingering on quills scratching against parchment. “And the Floo Network, yes, of course. A marvel of domesticated flame… so commonplace most of you have likely forgotten you’re stepping into a hearth."



Cox’s gaze lingered, one hand drifting to his forearm where his thumb pressed firmly over a pair of bindrunes until the faint burn there steadied. Meanwhile a deeper ache pulsed across his shoulders in counterpoint, the transmutation circle inked there making its presence known for a fleeting moment. “The Goblet is an apt example," he allowed. “A vessel of flame not for simple destruction or utility, but for judgment. Its fire is meant to illuminate truth and not to consume." The faintest quirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, but if you blinked you may just have missed it. “And yet, as you noted, truth itself rarely arrives without peril. Fire does not coddle. Nor did the Tournament."

He rubbed his forearm once more, then let his hand fall to his side, gaze sweeping across the room. The rune on the board flickered faintly, like a coal drawing breath. “Another fine example why we must study the intention bound into fire’s form, not only its blaze."

Originally Posted by blackboard

Fire Protection Potion

INGREDIENTS

• 500ml distilled water (or Aguamenti-conjured water)
• 10 drops of salamander blood
• 2 bursting mushrooms (tops, diced)
• 3 g Wartcap powder
• 3 fire seeds (crushed)
• 5 g dragon scale shavings
• 4 drops of Essence of Murtlap
• 1 Phoenix Feather (optional for strength; OWL and NEWT candidates ONLY)

PREPARATION CAUTIONS

• Brew in a brass cauldron for best stability, though any cauldron will work.
• Stir only clockwise unless noted.
• Use a silver stirring rod (wooden instruments have a tendency to combust).

STEP-BY-STEP BREWING

1. Add water to cauldron and bring to a gentle boil (low flame).
2. Slowly drip in the salamander blood and stir 3 times. Potion should turn a glowing orange.
3. Crush Fire Seeds (these have already been cooled for you) using a moral and pestle (does not need to be a fine powder)
4. Add crushed Fire Seeds one silver spoonful at a time, allowing each to dissolve fully. Stir 2 times.
5. Dice the 2 bursting mushrooms tops into small pieces and add them to the cauldron. Will cause the potion to bubble with small bubbles that release white or yellow vapors when they pop — this is the "flaring" effect and is means the and reflect mushrooms' neutralizing properties
6. Sprinkle in Dragon Scale shavings. Mixture may spark (should be a shade of green) - this is normal. Stir 3 times slowly - should take you around 5 hippocampuses to circumnavigate once .
7. Slowly add 3g of Wartcap powder. Potion should immediately begin thickening and turning into a deep forest green.
8. Add Essence of Murtlap drop by drop, stirring after each. The potion should shift to a vivid purple color with gold flecks.
9. OWL & NEWT CANDIDATES: add a pinch of barbs from the phoenix feather provided and stir counterclockwise 4 times. (There is only one feather so don't be greedy with your pinch)
10. Reduce heat and allow potion to simmer for 5 minutes.
11. Remove from heat and let cool until it becomes a rich cerulean color (think deep tropical ocean waters) and the gold flakes have taken on a copper color.