A few people commented that this potion kind of came out of nowhere. The last lines of Ch170, Love:

He grabbed the lesson plan off the corner and flipped through it with one finger.

Plans and… counter-potions.

He smirked faintly.

And the meme from Ch173. Bottom right corner reads: Free Rose Bath Recipe Inside.

—

Following days, the papers were delicious. Not that Cassian or Bathsheda were in the mood to enjoy it.

Every major outlet ran some version of the headline, some smug, some scandalised, most scrambling to get ahead of the narrative. It wasn’t a new idea. Love Potion counteragents had been theorised for decades. A few half‑successful cases made it into obscure journals, then quietly vanished. Suppressed, maybe. Shelved. Some potioneers might’ve cracked it, panicked, and locked the results in a cupboard before the big names found out. Cassian refused to believe something this basic had stumped everyone for centuries.

But that was the difference, wasn’t it? He wasn’t everyone.

He was a Rosier. Academically validated, politically shielded, filthy rich. Enough clout to stand in front of half the Ministry and say “shove it” without blinking. Backed by a Hogwarts badge and the kind of alliances that made lawsuits nervous. Whether half the market dried up overnight didn’t matter, they couldn’t do a thing.

They watched. Gritted teeth. Fudged statements. None dared move first.

Witch Weekly had a field day.

They praised Cassian and Bathsheda to sky, earth, and the stars in between. One column called them “modern alchemists of justice.” Another dubbed them “Hogwarts’ protective pair,” which sounded a bit more romantic than necessary, but no one corrected it. Probably because Cassian didn’t read past the bit where they compared him to a “prince in safety goggles.” That one went on the staffroom wall.

Since last year, after landing Witch Weekly’s “Most Charming Smile” cover, Cassian had been the darling of half the witch population under thirty-five. And several over, if the letters were to be believed.

For months, his face had rotated through every shelf in the country. Then the World Cup hit, and his brother Lucian got handed the “Hero of the Cup” headline and knocked him off the front like a stage dive. Witch Weekly had scrambled to juggle Lucian and Kingsley shared a cover for a while, grinning like co-stars in a crime drama. Cassian hadn’t minded. He quite liked not being on the cover like he was about to sell someone a love tonic or flex next to a unicorn.

But now he and Bathsheda were beloved by every witch and every father of a daughter in the country.

Although women used Love Potions too, more often than people liked to admit, most of the time, it was men. Blokes with more ego than sense, convinced a vial could stand in for charm. Girls were expected to be clever about it. Boys just bought the bottle.

As for the Prophet, well. Cassian and Bathsheda owned it. Figuratively, yes, but also… literally. What were they going to write? Criticism?

Front page. Banner headline.

“LOVE POTIONS NEUTRALISED: HOGWARTS STAFF BREW LEGAL COUNTER, SHAKE FOUNDATION OF ENTIRE INDUSTRY”

by Amelia Knott, Senior Correspondent

“In a stunning turn of magical innovation, Professors Babbling and Rosier have developed and formally introduced the world’s first fully effective Love Potion detection that later realized could also neutralise, Rose Bath, now approved by the Ministry. The potion, a pale pink liquid with a regrettably unforgettable odour, reverses the scent-identification effects of standard and enhanced Love Potions and effectively rendering them inert.

Distribution is already underway, and, according to the developers, profits are not only waived, but banned. ‘We don’t want a sick market to grow legs again,’ Professor Rosier said. ‘If someone tries to resell this for a profit, I’ll personally feed them the old version and see if they still feel romantic.’

The Professors’ announcement caused a stir across Hogwarts, where the product was debuted live to the entire student body. Reactions ranged from nausea to applause, with several students reportedly ‘re-evaluating their Valentine plans entirely.’

Witch Weekly’s former “Most Charming Smile” Rosier delivered a surprisingly sharp statement on ethics in potion use, ‘If you’ve got to spike someone’s drink to make them like you, maybe you’re not that likeable.’

The Ministry’s Potion Regulation Office has declined to comment on why such a counter-agent was not prioritised earlier, though insiders say ‘they’re scrambling.'”

The rest was interviews, quotes, and one heavily editorialised sidebar about how Love Potions “were never meant for harm,” complete with a black-and-white photo of some 1900s witch bottling what looked suspiciously like chloroform with glitter.

The Prophet knew better than to editorialise against him now. They’d already dodged three public backlash storms this year alone by printing whatever he handed them. If he told them mermaids were unionising, they’d run it in bold.

International press, though. Oh, boy.

If Britain had taken it as a scandal, the continent took it as war.

The Parisian Magical Times went dramatic, of course.

“Love in Crisis! The Tonic of Truth Destroys the Romantic Market”

Some poor French potioneer accused Hogwarts of “targeting cultural traditions.” Another called it “a violation of magical freedom.” One paper in Prague claimed the antidote would “erode social fabric,” like teenage obsession was a civic duty.

Spain was in support. Italy begged for samples. Bulgaria said nothing and immediately ordered a batch. The Americans tried to rebrand it, HeartClean, until someone from Cassian’s side sent a legal hex that turned their ad campaign into animated rats.

The best reaction came from Romania, where the headline read, “HOGWARTS INVENTS POTION TO STOP STUPIDITY. FINALLY.”

Cassian clipped that one for the wall. Right next to the “Safety Prince” piece.

He didn’t care who got offended. He wasn’t subtle about that either.

Bathsheda didn’t even blink when that letter went viral. She just sipped her tea and handed him a red quill for the next round.

The real kicker? It worked. Love Potion sales plummeted. Several shops pulled them off shelves. Of course their concern wasn’t ethics, but fear. Nobody wanted to be caught selling something with a ready-made counter.

Better still, victims started talking.

Quietly, at first. A few anonymous letters. Then a name. Then a face. It didn’t become a movement, but it stirred something. Enough to rattle the ones who’d always thought magic gave them the right to tamper with affection like it was a charm to be cast.

And now every major magical school in Europe had a bottle of Rose Bath in their potions cupboard.

The antidote had a smell of betrayal and boiled socks, but it worked.

Cassian had never been prouder of anything that made a room gag.

***

The Flamels were already there when Cassian and Bathsheda walked into the room. Gone was the usual soft smiles, the careful warmth they carried. What stood in their place could’ve passed for living legend, grim and quiet, with that sort of stillness you only saw in people who’d burned cities before breakfast. This was what happened when you dosed their granddaughter. Gabrielle had called them Grandpa and Grandma since the first time she’d spelled her own name. Fleur trained with them many summers.

What surprised him more was who else had bothered to show up. Coriolanus Rosier. Sabine was next to him, her smile was warm as ever, but there was sharpness in her eyes. Ji sat rigid in the chair nearest the window. Rage still clung to him. He hadn’t looked at anyone since they entered. Dumbledore sat at the centre, hands steepled, waiting.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ji said without preamble. “I invited you here to discuss something that concerns me. I had suspicions before. Recent events hardened them.”

Dumbledore didn’t blink. “Your master?”

Ji nodded.

“I believe the Feng Shui Marauder lives.”

Cassian clenched his fist under the table. His nails bit into his palm.

“And I suspect the Deputy Headmaster of Fenghuang, Chengyu, might be corrupted.”

The room went still.

Coriolanus leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing a fraction. “You’re saying that brat Chengyu is working with that Feng boy?”

Ji raised his head. “Wang Feng was my master. He was Chengyu’s too. When he turned dark, I stood against him. Chengyu… hesitated.”

“To Chengyu,” He went on, “a master’s honour outweighed everything. Path didn’t matter. Loyalty did.” His jaw tightened. “But when we learned Wang Feng sacrificed a phoenix, the Elder Council cursed him. Every one of us, even Chengyu, turned on him then.”

“I thought,” Ji said quietly, “that his change was real.”

Silence pressed in.

“But now,” Ji continued, eyes lifting at last, “after what his grandson did, after what I’ve felt stirring… I don’t believe Wang Feng ever died. And I don’t believe Chengyu is as clean as he wants us to think.”

Nicolas sighed slowly, fists squeezed. “We have cause to act against Chengyu,” he said. “He and his grandson conspired against our granddaughter. Against our family.”

Perenelle nodded.

“But,” Nicolas added, gaze sweeping the table, “the rest of you cannot move yet. This isn’t the moment to drag the Covenant into the light.”

Sabine glanced at Ji. “If Chengyu is compromised, Fenghuang isn’t safe. You can ask help from other Headmasters.”

“No,” Ji said. “As it stands, this is an internal matter.” His hands gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles white. “People will see it as a power grab. If I call external help, the Covenant will have an excuse to act although I doubt they’ve the guts to do so, there’s no reason to rattle those bastards.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, teeth grinding. “Then why don’t we gather every old master we trust and burn the Covenant to the ground while we’re still breathing?”

Dumbledore shook his head, shoulders dipping. “Because it isn’t that simple. The Covenant isn’t weak. And they don’t restrain themselves the way we do. No lines they won’t cross. No students to protect. No schools to answer for.” He paused. “Keepers tried to wipe them out once. It ended with cities erased and both sides crawling away broken. That’s why the unspoken rules exist.”

Coriolanus added. “They’ve got methods that scare even us. Artefacts that don’t care who they burn. They don’t need to outnumber. They only need one excuse to cause a massacre.”

Ji’s fingers twitched. “I know what they’re capable of. We’ve all seen it.”

Cassian huffed, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “So what? We watch?”

Ji met his eyes. “Yes,” He said, hands flat on the table, “This summer I will invite all of you to Fenghuang. Officially. Publicly.” He glanced around the room. “I will expose Chengyu and his line. Within my school, on our ground. I ask you to attend, but only to watch.”

“If Chengyu is clean, the matter ends there. If he isn’t…” He paused. “If we can tie him to Wang Feng, then the Flamels can act. With justified rage.”

Nicolas nodded. Perenelle’s fingers tightened together in her lap.

“The Covenant must see that you’re not there to interfere. But they’ll also see that we stand together.” Ji added.

Cassian didn’t answer. He stared at the table, fingers tight. He felt sick. Helpless. Powerless. And he hated it.

Ji bowed his head. “Thank you.”

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