Petra’s summer had been, well, eh. She didn’t have any decent way to describe it besides mediocre. Considering that it was the least decent summer that she’d ever had to endure, she chose not to think about it. Instead, the Aquila had focused on her return to RMI and the potentials that her last term might bring to her. She’d really faded out of whatever leadership roles she had been in, only doing the required of her with prefect, so it had been no surprise to her that she was not award a Head Student position in the opening feast. She discussed as much with Sara after the fact and made it clear that it didn’t really upset her. The blonde had become less responsible over the last half a year, but it wasn’t going to affect her academics.
So when the seventh year swished into her first magizoobotany class of the term. The new professor seemed to be enthusiastic and had a clear hands on approach to her students. Petra gave her name brightly and had little to no objection towards removing her robe. Often, she wandered around without them or only had them tucked away in her bag for the stricter professors. The girl’s lips twitched upward at the branch of the willow that reached out to her, and the silver robes pulled off her shoulders settled easily onto the branch. Magical plants were fascinating in that aspect and she had a massive respect for all mythical and magical wildlife, including the fauna that occupied the greenhouses.
Petra had grimaced at the idea of an icebreaker and had begrudgingly stood in a circle with the people she’d known for at least four years, if not more. She obliged to the rules however, not wanting to invoke the wrath of a professor who she wasn’t quite sure of. Professor McCloud wasn’t a person she could peg down easily. She listened idly to her group, only speaking long enough to say her name, her pronouns, and that her favorite plant was Knotgrass.
If questioned, she’d likely say that she enjoyed the meaning behind it. Her parents had told her that they’d used it in their wedding, having it weaved together in a rope that had been knotted across their hands. Part of the symbolism behind it was that it tied people together, so it had been fitting. Petra’s only real interest in the plant was that it was the main ingredient in making an excellent Knotgrass Mead.
Yes, perfectly sensible Petra Stiglitz who tried her best to behave had spent her summer finding ways to tweak the underground alcohol business at Rocky Moutain. With Leopold’s graduation, he’d bestowed the less than reasonable project on her shoulders. It was likely the most interesting thing that she had learned about. So while her parents assumed she had taken a strange liking to plants and spices, the seventeen year old was spending her time compiling a list of brews to make and distribute to the older years. So far, she had perfected Knotgrass Mead and her Lavender Vodka was turning out to be quite acceptable as well. There were many others to try and she definitely wanted to begin incorporating in some different spices to appeal to different palates.
Of course, none of this was important for what they were doing.
Apparently, letting teenagers handle poison was something this professor found acceptable during the early parts of term and well, Petra was all for it. Her lips quirked up in a smile and she headed over to a mostly empty work table. She took a quick look over the plants, having a vague familiarity with one or two, but the rest were lost on her, even at her stage in schooling. “I’m not the greatest with plants that can kill me, tend to stay away from them you know,” she piped up to the closest person, eyeing the plants warily. “You wanna team up? I figure there’s less chance of me dying that way. I know that one-” she paused to point at a particular plant. "is Aconite and I'm fairly certain the one next to it is Hellebore because I wrote a potions essay on using it in the Draught of Peace. See any that you recognize?"