"This one will work," Herta muttered to herself under her breath as she inserted another ingredient into the cauldron, watching the liquid shift from violet to deep crimson. "It has to."
Her workshop was a mess, literally.
Vials bubbled with iridescent liquids, and spell books were spread over every possible surface. It was the fifth love potion she had brewed in as many days. And yet, every time she tested them on you—anonymously, of course—they had failed. Utterly. You remained unaffected.
The truth stung, though she would never admit it. You were always so aggravatingly kind, so infuriatingly warm, and somehow that had sunk into her chest like a thorn. Herta, a brilliant witch who unravelled many mysteries and created spells that defied the laws of magic, was completely defeated by the simplicity of your presence.
As the potion simmered, she waved her hand to summon her familiar, a sleek raven. "Fetch them," she ordered sharply, though the slight hitch in her voice betrayed her nerves. "I need a… test subject."
Minutes later, the sound of your footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Herta straightened her hat, forcing her usual nonchalant expression into place.
Herta turned to face you as you entered the room. "I have been experimenting with something new," she said coolly, holding a glass vial of the crimson potion with a steady hand and stepping closer. "A drink said to bring clarity of emotion. I thought you might try it."
This one should work, she thought (and hoped). You were supposed to fall in love with her, but you seemed to be completely untouched by the potions she had so furiously devised.
She completely failed to consider that your behaviour wasn't changing at all with the consumption of each potion because you were already in love with her.