Harry, Ron and Y/n met Hermione in the common room before breakfast next morning. Hoping for some support in his theory, Harry lost no time in telling Hermione what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the Hogwarts Express.
"But he was obviously showing off for Parkinson, wasn't he?" interjected Ron quickly, before Hermione could say anything.
"Well." she said uncertainly, "I don't know. It would be like Malfoy to make himself seem more important than he is...but that's a big lie to tell..."
"Exactly." said Harry, but he could not press the point, because so many people were trying to listen in to his conversation, not to mention staring at him and whispering behind their hands.
"It is rude to point...." Y/n said to a particularly minuscule first-year boy as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm.
Ron sniggered at the sight. "I love being a sixth year. And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax."
"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" said Hermione, as they set off down the corridor.
"Yeah, but not today." said Ron. "Today's going to be a real loss, I reckon."
"Hold it!" said Hermione, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees banned, hand it over." she told him sternly. The scowling boy handed over the snarling Frisbee, ducked under her arm, and took off after his friends. Ron waited for him to vanish, then tugged the Frisbee from Hermione's grip.
"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these."
Hermione's remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle, Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron's remark highly amusing. She continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself.
"You have yet to tell me what Atticus said in the carriage." Y/n said to Harry now.
"Well it wasn't exactly pleasant." Harry said.
"Is anything that comes out that guy's mouth?" Ron asked.
Y/n grimaced for a moment. "Continue." he then said to Harry.
"Well. He said he wasn't sad that...that your..."
"I can gather the rest of that statement." Y/n cut him off looking down with a pained expression. "Why did I expect him to change..."
Harry and Hermione just looked at each other as Ron looked over the new Fanged Frisbee.
The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. Y/n just picked at his food while the others tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Harry and Ron told Hermione about their embarrassing conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.
"But he can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures!" she said, looking distressed. "I mean, when has any of us expressed...you know...any enthusiasm?"
"Well Y/n has." Harry said.
"As have you all." Y/n reminded them.
"That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'ya reckon anyone but Y/n's going to go on to N. E. W. T. ?"
Neither Harry nor Hermione answered, there was no need. They knew perfectly well that nobody else in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures. They avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery wave only half-heartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.
After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O. W. L. grades to continue with their chosen N. E. W. T. s.
Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions,
It was Y/n who went next, With his results he was also cleared to take Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Care for Magical Creatures and Potions.
"Now Grindelwald, I must warn you...no other student in your year has taken Magical Creatures at a N. E. W. T level."
"That is fine professor. The quietness will be welcomed." Y/n said.
"Yes well..." McGonagall said doubtful before moving on to Neville.
"I'd better go now if I have Ancient Runes first." Hermione said.
"I will see you in Arithmancy." Y/n said looking at his time table again. He felt Hermione getting up then kiss his cheek before shooting off to first period Ancient Runes class.
Neville's timetable meanwhile took a little longer to sort out, his round face was anxious as Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his O. W. L. results.
"Herbology, fine." she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an 'Outstanding' O. W. L. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations.' But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an 'Acceptable' really isn't good enough to continue to N. E. W. T. level. Just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."
Neville hung his head.
Professor McGonagall peered at him through her square spectacles. "Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."
Neville looked miserable and muttered something about "My grandmother wants."
"Hmph." snorted Professot McGonagall. "It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have...particularly after what happened at the Ministry."
Neville turned very pink and blinked confusedly, Professor McGonagall had never paid him a compliment before.
"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my N. E. W. T. class. I see that you have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charm however...why not try for a N. E. W. T. in Charms?"
"My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option." mumbled Neville.
"Take Charms." said Professor McGonagall. "And I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O. W. L....that the subject is not necessarily worthless." Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.
Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination.
"He and Professor Trelawney are dividing classes between them this year." said Professor McGonagall, a hint of disapproval in her voice. It was common knowledge that she despised the subject of Divination. "The sixth year is being taken by Professor Trelawney."
Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.
"So, Potter, Potter... " said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes as she turned to Harry. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration...all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"
"It was, but you told me I had to get an 'Outstanding' in my O. W. L's, Professor." Harry said.
"And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject. Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly happy to accept N. E. W. T. students with 'Exceeds Expectations' at O. W. L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"
"Yes." said Harry. "But I didn't buy the books or any ingredients or anything..."
"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some." said Professor McGonagall. "Very well, Potter, here is your schedule. Oh, by the way...twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure."
A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry, and the three of them left the table together.
"Look." said Ron delightedly, gazing at his schedule. "We've got a free period now and a free period after break...and after lunch... excellent."
"I only have one now, I have Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures later." Y/n said.
They returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a half dozen seventh years, including Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in his first year.
"I thought you'd get that, well done." she called over, pointing at the Captain's badge on Harry's chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"
"Don't be stupid." said Harry. "You don't need to try out, I watched you play for five years..."
"You mustn't start off like that." she said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because Captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends..."
Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had taken from the fourth-year student. It zoomed around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites of the tapestry. Crookshanks's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it came too close.
An hour later they left the sunlit common room for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.
"We got so much homework for Runes." she said to Y/n anxiously when He, Harry and Ron joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"
"Shame." yawned Ron.
"You wait." she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."
"I do not doubt that." Y/n said.
The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.
"Inside." he said.
Y/n looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already, it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.
"I have not asked you to take out your books." said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk, Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."
His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's.
"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O. W. L in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N. E. W. T work, which will be more advanced."
Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice, the class craned their necks to keep him in view.
"The Dark Arts." started Snape. "Are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."
Y/n knew this to be true. When he had been dueling his parents he had been forced to quickly adapt in order to just keep up with them.
"Your defenses." said Snape, a little louder now. "Must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures." he indicated a few of them as he swept past. "Give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse." he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony. "Feel the Dementor's Kiss." a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall. "Or provoke the aggression of the Inferius." a bloody mass upon ground.
"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati Patil in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"
"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past." said Snape. "Which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."
He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.
"...you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells."
Harry and Neville just looked at Y/n as Snape continued.
"What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly. "Very well...Miss Granger?"
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform." said Hermione. "Which gives you a split-second advantage."
"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six." said Snape dismissively as Malfoy sniggered in the corner. "But correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course, it is a question of concentration and mind power which some..." his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry once more. "lack."
Y/n knew Snape was thinking of Harry's disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year.
"You will now divide." Snape went on. "Into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."
Although Snape did not know it, Y/n and Harry had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D. A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however and a reasonable amount of cheating ensued, many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud.
Typically, Y/n and Hermione paired up together and Y/n surprised her when he deflected her jinx on the first try. A feat that would have earned him twenty points for Gryffindor from any reasonable teacher
"How long have you been able to do that?" Hermione asked in a shocked low whisper.
"Ministry..." Was all Y/n had to say and she understood.
Hermione asked nothing further and Y/n cast light jinx's on her, reversing their effects when they hit her as she practiced trying to wordlessly summon a shield.
"Focus only on the shield you want to conjure." Y/n said trying to teach her and ten minutes later she was able to block one of his jinxes.
Snape had ignored the pair's work however as he swept between them all as they practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry and Ron struggling with the task.
Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Harry had his wand raised, waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.
"Pathetic, Weasley." said Snape, after a while. "Here...let me show you..."
He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively, all thought of non-verbal spells forgotten, he yelled. "Protego!"
His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.
"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing non-verbal spells, Potter?"
"Yes." said Harry stiffly.
"Yes, sir."
"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor." The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively. Y/n just looked impassive.
"Detention, Saturday night, my office." said Snape. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter... not even the Chosen One."
"That was brilliant, Harry!" chortled Ron, once they were safely on their way to break a short while later.
"You really shouldn't have said it." said Hermione, frowning at Ron. "What made you?"
"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry. "I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn't he use another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defense? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff..."
"Well." said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like you and Y/n."
"Like us?" Y/n asked slightly surprised.
"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts...well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"
While he did not like the comparison to Snape Y/n supposed Hermione made a fair point.
"Harry! Hey, Harry!" A voice cried out and they looked around to see Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.
"For you." panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"
"I'm not sure yet." said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."
"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend..."
But Harry was not listening, he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Ron, Y/n and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.
'Dear Harry,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p. m. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P. S. I enjoy Acid Pops.'
"He enjoys Acid Pops?" said Ron, who had read the message over Harry's shoulder and was looking perplexed.
"It will be the password to get past the gargoyle outside his study." said Y/n in a low voice.
"Ha! Snape's not going to be pleased...I won't be able to do his detention!" Harry said pleased.
He, Ron, Y/n and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic.
After break, Y/n and Hermione went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room where they grudgingly started Snape's homework.
Arithmancy had always been a challenging subject in the O.W.L levels but the N.E.W. T work was even harder to grasp. Y/n could see Hermione was having to pay full attention to the work, more than usual.
When the bell finally rang to signal the lesson ending Hermione just let out a sigh.
"At least we didn't get any homework from Professor Vector today. Though I don't think that will stop Harry and Ron asking for our help with Professor Snape's in the common room." Hermione said.
"I have Magical Creatures with Hagrid now." Y/n told her.
"Oh..." Hermione said a little worried. "You will tell Hagrid I did want to take Magical Creatures it's just..."
"I shall think of something to say." Y/n said.
As Y/n walked down the stone steps to the castle he found he was quite alone. As McGonagall had warned him earlier not a single student in his year other than himself had taken Care of Magical Creatures.
He waited quietly outside of Hagrid's cabin when a few minutes later he exited it.
"Is...Is it just you?" Hagrid asked looking around shocked.
"It would appear so." Y/n said.
"Oh..." Hagrid said sounding a little disappointed and hurt.
"The others have...busy schedules..." Y/n lied. "Harry and Ron have never been good with additional work and Hermione is taking more subjects than us all. Only I was able to fit in Care of Magical Creatures." Y/n said but Hagrid looked to be slightly annoyed.
"Too busy..." The half giant muttered.
"Last night you mentioned 'Witherwings.' If you have no lesson planned for today then may we spend time with him, I would like to talk to you." Y/n proposed.
"Yer wantin to talk with me?" Hagrid asked.
"That is correct." Y/n said.
"I..suppose that'll be fine...no point in going into the forest today if it's jus the two of us..." Hagrid grumbled and led Y/n towards his cabin.
Y/n just stayed quiet as Hagrid continued to grumble for a few moments and soon they came to a stop outside Hagrid's hut where Y/n could see Buckbeak comfortably tethered up.
Y/n gave a bow as Buckbeak returned the bow and Y/n moved forward to pet him.
"So what was it yer wantin to me bout?" Hagrid asked.
Y/n stayed quiet for a moment as he stroked Buckbeak's beak. "I wanted to ask...What was it like for you when your father died Hagrid?"
Hagrid said nothing as he instead turned around and entered his cabin. Y/n did not stop him, clearly this was something that still upset Hagrid and he could understand why. The loss of his grandmother was painful...He knew she was gone but he did not feel ready to talk about it with just anyone. Hermione and Ron still had their families, Harry had lost his parents as an infant and was unwilling to talk about Sirius as much as he was about his Grandmother. So Hagrid was the only person Y/n knew who had lost a member of family they had never been without before.
But this question had clearly upset Hagrid and Y/n understood that, he would apologize before leaving.
But when Y/n turned around he saw Hagrid exiting the cabin with two stools in one hand, Bottles under his arm and tankards in the other.
Perhaps Hagrid was not so reluctant to talk after all...
Y/n said nothing as he watched Hagrid set the stools down then take a bottle of butterbeer and firewhiskey from underneath his arm then hand out a tankard and the butterbeer to Y/n.
"Should you really be drinking if you are to teach classes later today?" Y/n asked taking both and sitting down.
"Ain't got no more classes t'day." Hagrid said pouring himself a glass of firewhiskey into one of the tankards and sitting down as well. "Gunna need it too if were goin down memory lane..."
For the rest of the lesson Y/n listened quietly as Hagrid talked about those hard times in his life.
Y/n walked to double potions down the familiar path to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.
When he arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N. E. W. T. level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O. W. L. grade, but four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy, Atticus and Zabini. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff he recognised as Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry liked despite his rather pompous manner.
"Harry." Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as Y/n turned to see Harry, Ron and Hermione approaching. "Didn't get a chance to speak in Defense Against The Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old D. A. lags... And how are you, Ron, Y/n, Hermione?"
Before they could say more than "fine," the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Harry, Y/n and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.
The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, Y/n and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, Y/n and Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Y/n had ever inhaled, somehow it reminded him simultaneously of Vanilla, Old books and minty toothpaste he remembered using at Hermione's. He found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink.
"Now then, now then, now then." said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making..."
"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.
"Harry, m'boy?"
"I haven't got a book or scales or anything...nor's Ron...we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N. E. W. T. , you see..."
"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention...not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts."
Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.
"Now then." said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off. "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N. E. W. T. s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"
He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Y/n raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it. He knew what it was immediately.
Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air beside him before anybody else's. Slughorn pointed at her.
"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion thar forces the drinker to tell the truth." said Hermione.
"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now." he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table. "This one here is pretty well known...Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too...Who can..."
Hermione's hand was fastest once more.
"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir." she said.
Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question, she, and Y/n after all, were the ones who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year.
"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one her...yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.
"It's Amortentia!"
"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask." said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed. "but I assume you know what it does?"
"It's the most powerful love porion in the world!" said Hermione.
"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals." said Hermione enthusiastically. "And it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and..." she turned slightly pink looking and did not complete the sentence.
"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.
"Hermione Granger, sir."
"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"
"No. I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."
Y/n saw Malfoy lean close to Atticus and whisper something. Both of them sniggered.
But Slughorn showed no dismay, on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry. "Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"
"Yes, sir." said Harry.
"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger." said Slughorn genially.
Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched him in the face. Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered. "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"
"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron. "It's always been between you and Y/n for who is the best in the year...anyone could've told him so!"
"It does not matter Ron." Y/n said not really caring. "Hermione is the brightest witch in our year that is what matters."
Hermione smiled but made a "shushing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying.
"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room...oh yes." he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Atticus, both of whom were smirking skeptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love..."
"And now." said Slughorn. "It is time for us to start work."
"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.
"Oho," said Slughorn again. Y/n was certain that Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called..."
"Felix Felicis..." Y/n finished for him.
"Know your potions too eh Grindelwald? I take it." Slughorn turned, smiling, to look at him. "That you know what Felix Felicis does, Mr Grindelwald?"
"Felix Felicis or as it is more commonly know as 'Liquid Luck' makes its user lucky." Y/n said.
The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all Harry could see of Malfoy was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.
"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis." said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off."
"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.
"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence." said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know...highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."
"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.
"Twice in my life." said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."
He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, thought Harry, the effect was good.
"And that." said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth. "Is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."
There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.
"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis." said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt. Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competition...sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only...and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!"
"So." said Slughorn, suddenly brisk. "How are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"
There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible.
Y/n had already set to work as Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that lucky day. Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent him.
To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, he saw Malfoy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could.
Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing, this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Y/n and Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Their potions already resembled the 'smooth, black currant-colored liquid' mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.
Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction.
'Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.'
"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" Harry looked up, Slughorn was just passing the Slytherin table.
"Yes." said Slughorn, without looking at Malfoy. "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age..."
And he walked away. Harry bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like himself, Y/n or Zabini, perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.
The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Harry turned to Y/n.
"Can I borrow your silver knife?"
Y/n nodded patiently, not taking his eyes off his potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.
"Is yours still purple too?" Hermione impatiently asked Y/n. "It should be lilac now..."
Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all.
Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.
His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of instructions. According the book, he had to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice?
Harry stirred counterclockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned pale pink.
"How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione, who was redfaced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron, hers and Y/n potions were still resolutely purple.
"Add a clockwise stir..."
"No, no, the book says seven stirs counterclockwise!" she snapped.
Y/n just looked at his potion and decided to start stirring it clockwise Seven stirs counterclockwise, one clockwise, pause... seven stirs counterclockwise, one stir clockwise...
Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath, his potion looked like liquid licorice. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his. Y/n's was the closest but it still looked slightly too dark. Harry felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in this dungeon.
"And time's...up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"
Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron. He passed over Ernie's navy concoction. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod.
He then peered into Y/n's cauldron. "A very good effort Grindelwald. We might just have a winner here."
But then he saw Harry's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face. "Nope this is the clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are...one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"
Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins' faces and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione's. Y/n's impassive look and Ron who looked simply dumbfounded.
"How did you do that?" he whispered to Harry as they left the dungeon.
"Got lucky, I suppose." said Harry, because Malfoy was within earshot.
Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered.
"I s'pose you think I cheated and that Y/n should of won?" he finished, aggravated by her expression.
"I only made my potion that well because I took the small advice you gave." Y/n said taking himself out the firing line.
Hermione still did not look impressed "It wasn't exactly your own work, was it Harry?" she said stiffly.
"He only followed different instructions to ours." said Ron. "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off." He heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but..."
"Hang on." said a voice close by Harry's left ear and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn's dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"
She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her mind at once.
"It's nothing." he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."
"But you're doing what it says?"
"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny..."
"Ginny's got a point." said Hermione, perking up at once. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?"
"They raise a fair point..." Y/n said in thought.
"Hey!" said Harry indignantly, as Hermione pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and raised her wand.
"Specialis Revelio!" she said, rapping it smartly on the front cover. Nothing whatsoever happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.
"Finished?" said Harry irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?"
"It seems all right." said Hermione, still staring at the book suspiciously. "I mean, it really does seem to be...just a textbook. "
"Good. Then I'll have it back." said Harry, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor. Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.
'This book is the property of the Half Blood Prince.'