It was not out of the ordinary for Daphne to miss lunch in the Great Hall, so Oleandra gave her absence at the Slytherin table little thought. However, it was not like her to miss class, especially Potions, her favourite subject, so it was only when the bell rang that Oleandra truly began to worry.
"Today, we shall be brewing Veritaserum," Professor Slughorn wheezed, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. The heat from the fires beneath everyone's cauldrons was clearly getting to him. "Can anyone tell me… yes, Mr Boot?"
Oleandra barely paid attention to Terry Boot's description of Veritaserum.
Everyone knew what Veritaserum was; it was a potion that resembled clear water and possessed no discernible smell or taste, that compelled one to tell nothing but the truth.
Even now, she could still vividly remember the Gryffindor Trio forcing a few drops down her throat… she shook her head and shuddered slightly. Those were not her memories. It was getting harder and harder to compartmentalise what had happened to her and what had not.
"Couldn't have put it better myself, Mr Boot!" Professor Slughorn said genially. "Shall we say… ten points to Ravenclaw?"
Following Professor Slughorn's instructions to turn their grimoires to page 121, Oleandra opened her copy of Advanced Potion-Making to page 116. She always liked to play a little game when asked to open a book to a certain page, the goal of which was to land as close as possible to the right page on the first try.
Oleandra flipped to the correct page.
"As it is with all magics, Veritaserum is not infallible," Professor Slughorn droned on. "Those skilled in Occlumency can partition their own memories and convince themselves they are telling the truth, when in fact they are telling fibs of their own invention, even when they have fallen under the influence of Veritaserum… But of course, this is not something that can be achieved without first realising one has been poisoned!"
Oleandra began reading the list of ingredients.
96% pure Mandragora liqueur… (one litre)
Shavings from the horns of a white aurochs… (100g, in equal measure from left and right horns)
Juice extracted from Sopophorous Beans sliced with a silver knife… (10 drops)
Spores from the Soaring Toadstool… (1g)
[…]
"Ugh, an alcohol-based potion," Oleandra groaned inwardly. "I can already feel a headache coming on…"
The list went on and on. Oleandra turned to page 122; it seemed the ingredients could not even fit on a single page. As expected of a N.E.W.T.-level potion.
"Now, as you may or may not know, Veritaserum is classified as a controlled substance, which means that, unfortunately, you will not be allowed to keep any of what you brew this afternoon," Professor Slughorn explained. "Even so, I would like you to experience what it feels like to be under its influence; this way, you'll have a fighting chance to organise your mental defences, should you find yourself… ahem."
Each Hogwarts professor had their own peculiar way of quietly undermining the administration.
Professor Slughorn, it seemed, intended for his students to learn to recognise when they had been slipped Veritaserum… and, since the Ministry of Magic controlled the potion's distribution, it was fairly obvious against whom he was preparing them.
It was an open secret, but nobody could tell him to stop; as a pure-blooded Head of Slytherin House, he was untouchable, and even Veritaserum could not force him to betray his true intentions, for he was far too skilled a potions master to be undone by one of his own creations.
"While Veritaserum is challenging to brew, it is, thankfully, not a lengthy process, so unless something catastrophic occurs, you are all likely to have finished your potions before the fourth-period bell rings," Professor Slughorn continued. "I shall come by each of your tables to see if you have successfully brewed your potions, and, if you have, I should like you to taste your own creation, after which I shall ask you one personal question."
A chorus of protests rang out, and Professor Slughorn raised his hands peaceably.
"Fret not, fret not," he said. "I shan't force you to take any Veritaserum against your will, and nor shall I ask questions that are too probing… though I cannot promise they will not be embarrassing."
Professor Slughorn reached into his breast pocket and drew out a small phial of golden liquid. He gave it a little shake and smiled knowingly.
"I trust you remember lucky Felix Felicis, yes?" he said smugly. "Perhaps this might motivate you… I certainly remember how eagerly you worked last year when this golden nugget of liquid luck was on the line…"
If memory served, Harry and Daphne had both won the potion last year. To Oleandra's knowledge, her sister still had not used hers… or perhaps she had already drunk it, and simply had not mentioned it.
"Now, hop to it!" Professor Slughorn cried with his usual aplomb. "I shall award one bottle to whoever brews the clearest potion, and let's see… one more to whoever reveals the funniest secret!"
The small classroom was instantly filled with the sounds of chopping as the seventh-year students busily prepared their potion ingredients. Each of them— save for Oleandra, thanks to nepotism— had earned their place in Professor Slughorn's seventh-year N.E.W.T.-level potions class after enduring trials and tribulations, burnt fingers and tongues, and nostrils filled with noxious fumes that had killed their sense of smell.
There were no Crabbes and Goyles, nor Nevilles or Rons here; the competition promised to be fierce!
Thankfully, Oleandra had already begun organising her ingredients in the order they were meant to enter the cauldron, so while the others were still extracting juice from their Sopophorous Beans, she was already gagging on alcoholic fumes as she poured the first batch of ingredients into her boiling mandrake cordial.
"Very good, very good!" Professor Slughorn said as he passed Oleandra's table, his face twitching slightly as she turned to look at him. "Mind the heat and work quickly; the alcohol should not be completely evaporated until the last ingredient has touched the mixture."
The clock ticked on.
"The last ingredient…" Oleandra read from her grimoire. "A lock of hair from a Fairy's head..."