He was interrupted in the middle of decanting his first batch of blood-replenishing potion by Moaning Myrtle suddenly appearing in the toilet closest to him. She arrived with a gurgle in the pipes, a shrill cry, and a fountain of water erupting out of the bowl. Draco cursed, nearly dropping his vial but saving it at the last moment. He curled his body defensively over the cauldron to protect it from the spray, and held his breath, half expecting the cauldron to explode in his face. It didn’t, thankfully.