Rhododendron desiderium
(Common Name: Heart’s Desire)R. desiderium is an evergreen shrub that can be identified by heart-shaped petals that hang just below the main flower, and by the particularly long filaments of its stamen. Its petals, when ingested, have hallucinogenic properties, showing to each individual the very vision that they most desire[a]. Many potions have made particular use of this effect, and R. desiderium petals are commonly used in so-called Luck Potions[b]… The stalk of the plant contains a highly addictive substance that is an effective painkiller, and was for some time outlawed as a narcotic by the Thaumata of Equestria.
—from The Wild Plants of the Everfree Forest and Their Uses
“Good morning, class.” Zama was sat on a cushion at the front of her classroom, and beckoned with a hoof for the small huddle of students by the door to come in. Maria waited patiently for her classmates to enter—it didn’t take quite so long with a class like this, that had such a small attendance—and then trotted herself over to a cauldron near the back of the classroom. She didn’t mind. The back was where Zama’s library was, after all.
“Today,” Zama said slowly, when all the students had taken their seats and the quiet whisperings had died down, “we shall be making your first potion. It is a simple Potion of Warming, and what better potion to learn for cold nights such as these?
“Now, there is a great deal of theory to potion-making, and by the end of this year we shall have learned the very basics. But what fun are theory lessons when you have no experience of brewing? How can you truly understand me when I talk of this or that effect, when you have not witnessed it for yourselves? That is why we shall start by brewing; when you have learned to make a potion, then I shall teach you how they work.”
At this point Zama rose, and walked over to her own cauldron. “I will be making the brew alongside you, so that you can watch and copy what I do. Please turn to page 39 of your textbooks—” there was a sudden rustling of parchment that filled the room, as books were levitated swiftly from bags. Just as Maria was about to light her horn and do the same, a mighty drumbeat filled the room, echoing off every surface, a deep reverberation. The rustling stopped, and all eyes turned to the zebra.
“Are you all so quick to forget your first lesson?” Zama asked, her eyes wide in shock. “Mr. Dornsen, please remind your friends: does hornglow belong in this classroom?”
Andrew Dornsen, a timid but not unintelligent fellow, cleared his throat. “N-no, Ms. Zama.”
“And why not?”
“B-because hornglow can react with the magical potential of unfinished potions and ingredients.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dornsen.” Zama smiled, not unkindly, at Andrew, and turned back to the rest of the class. “Hornglow is not permitted so close to a potion—no, not even to open your books. Potion-making is a dangerous subject, my pupils, but I have not yet had a student foolish enough to cause any serious damage. I should hope that you would not let me down.
“Now, without using your horns, please turn to page 39 of your textbooks, and read carefully the instructions for a Potion of Warming…”
It felt odd, lifting a book from her saddlebag with her teeth, and turning the pages by hoof instead of hornglow. It reminded Maria of days long gone, and she smiled despite herself at fond memories. She remembered how she had used to grumble, her voice muffled by the book in her mouth, as she was made to practice her reading each Tuesday, and how she had been made to sound out each letter of each word despite her protests that she would never need to read, and that Leo had never been made to spend his afternoons inside; she remembered how old Mr. McLaughrin had made her read an extra sentence for every complaint.
Things had changed a lot, since she was a filly.
By the time the lesson had ended—Maria’s potion was praised alongside Andrew’s by Zama for being particularly effective, and the whole class had been made to try a small sip of both potions—Maria had almost managed to lose herself in the familiarity of using her mouth and hooves. The stirring of the cauldron was no different to how she had been taught to cook; the feeling of a tool clasped between her teeth was no different to her childhood chores. And so it was with a warm feeling—of nostalgia, of pride, and of magical warmth from the potion—that Maria rose to leave potion-making.
“Ms. Everfree?” Zama’s voice called across the room to her, and Maria turned her head to look at her teacher. The zebra was once again sitting on a cushion, and smiling. “You did well today, but you seemed to be quite lost in thought. Is something troubling you?”
Maria smirked, despite herself. These days, something was always troubling her—be it her upcoming Duel, the pressures from the Consul, or merely the complications of her investigations with the Headmistress. It was as if her mind was permanently full of troubles, sometimes. And it had been so nice, so very nice, to forget about it all for an hour. Perhaps it was the warmth, but it felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders during the lesson, and as her troubles came rushing back to mind she almost felt like slouching once more beneath it.
“No,” she lied. “Everything is quite alright.”
And with a smile and a nod, she took her leave.
[a] Quite how the magic of the plant decides what any given individual’s greatest desire is remains a mystery. Studies have shown that the effect does not necessarily correlate with what an individual thinks their desire will be, and there is plenty of anecdotal evidence of unicorns disappointed to find that they did not quite want what they had thought they did.
[b] Luck Potions, of course, very rarely affect true chance and probability, but instead affect in some way the confidence of the drinker—often with rather unpleasant side-effects. Despite this, as recently as last decade they were outlawed in casinos to incentivise their use, for if would-be cheats used ineffective potions instead of actual techniques of fraud the casinos would benefit greatly.