An Ageing Potion made sense, Dalton thought to himself, tapping his foot against the table leg and probably annoying whoever was sat next to him in the process. Of course, Professor Newton was kind of old, but he hadn't been ancient, and right now that was exactly how he looked. Thumbing through his textbook until he found the right page, the fifth year then ran a finger down the method, stopping occasionally to look up at the demonstration of the point he was reading, or to jot some notes down.

Standing up - for it was always easier to brew potions when stood, rather than sat, Dalton thought - he stretched slightly before leaning down and pulling his potion kit and scales from his bag. He had everything, he found, apart from the red wine and the bat tongue, and so he began to measure the rest out, tongue poking out slightly from in between his teeth. When that was done, he returned the rest to his bag and made his way to the front of the room, in order to grab the last of the ingredients.

"Professor?" A pause, before Dalton made his way back to his desk, as a thought occurred to him. "How long is the potion supposed to last?"