Chapter Five: Testing, testing, 1 2 3…
"Let's see if this works," Harish said, pouring a glop of polyjuice potion into a vial. "Bottom's up."
And with that he downed the contents of the vial in one gulp. The young man gagged as the potion seared down his throat and then waited as an unpleasant feeling came over him. It felt as though dozens of snakes were writhing in his stomach. Then a burning sensation spread rapidly out to his fingers and toes. Next came a horrible melting feeling, like his skin had turned to hot wax and before his very eyes he began to change. He turned and looked in the mirror to watch himself shrink a few inches. His shoulders shot out and his arms shortened. Red freckles popped out onto his pale skin and his green eyes swirled into a blue.
Next thing he knew, he looked just like the twins. He stretched his hands out and looked at them.
"So this is what it feels like to be a twin?" he asked, looking at Fred and George.
"More like how it feels to be a triplet," George replied.
"Okay," Harish said. "Now try the spell."
Fred raised his wand, but George said, "My turn."
He waved his wand in the correct movement and once again Harish felt like his skin was melting, only instead of searing pain like polyjuice potion, it was more like his skin was simply falling off like droplets of water. Once again, he glanced in the mirror to find that he had become himself again.
"So that worked," Fred stated.
"Now the question is," Harish said. "What can we use this spell for?"
As the girls had suspected, there was an instantaneous scrabble for power, with Draco coming out on top. The next morning, Professor Snape went down the Slytherin table, handing out schedules. Out of the three sixth years, Hermione was cleared to go to the most classes. Since they had taken their OWL's, they went to a class depending on whether their OWL's were good enough or not.
Hermione was instantly cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to first period Ancient Runes without further ado. Draco made it to Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Potions; and Daphne was cleared for Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology.
Over at the Gryffindor table, Neville watched Professor McGonagall as she looked through his schedule.
"Herbology fine," she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an Outstanding OWL. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with an Exceeds Expectations. But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an Acceptable really isn't good enough to continue to NEWT level. I 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," McGonagall snorted. "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."
Neville turned very pink and blinked at her; Professor McGonagall hardly ever gave any of her students compliments.
"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my NEWT class. I see that you have an Exceeds Expectations in Charms, however—why not try for a NEWT in Charms?"
"My grandmother thinks it's a soft option," Neville mumbled.
"Take Charms," McGonagall said, "and I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms OWL, the subject is not worthless." Smiling at the look of the 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.
And it turned out that the NEWT level Potions class was so small that they piled students from all four houses into it. Other than the five Slytherins that made it through, four Ravenclaws were there and one Hufflepuff, Ernie MacMillan, who was part of the group that had once thought Harish was behind attacks on the school.
Then, Ron Weasley wandered into the dungeons looking mildly confused as to why he was there.
"What are you doing here, Weasley?" Draco asked as Ron leaned against the wall next to Ernie beside them.
"I received an Exceeds Expectations on my OWL," Ron retorted. "What are you doing here?"
"I happened to receive an Outstanding," Draco replied sticking his nose into the air. He opened his mouth to insult the boy further, but the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him through the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved into a smile as he spotted Zabini slinking behind Draco.
Hermione paused at the sight of him and he shot her a sneer. Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her into the dungeon, which was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. The five Slytherins took a table together, thought Hermione was sure to sit on the other end from Zabini; one of the few Slytherins that did not believe that Hermione was Sirius's daughter. The four Ravenclaws took a table to themselves as well, leaving Ron to sit with Ernie.
"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?" Ron asked, raising his hand.
"Yes, m'boy?"
"I haven't got a book or scales or anything—didn't realize I'd be able to do the NEWT, you see—"
Draco snorted.
"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention… not to worry. 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 the cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with a very battered-looking copy of Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Ron along with a set of tarnished scales.
"Now then," he said once he returned to where he was standing previously, "I've prepared a few potions for you to observe, and just out of interest you know. These are the kind of potions you'll have to be able to complete by the time you've completed your N.E.W.T.'s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you can't brew 'em quite yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"
The professor indicated the potion nearest the Slytherin table. Hermione raised her hand delicately and Slughorn pointed to her.
"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," she said.
"Very good, very good!" Slughorn said happily, "Now," he continued pointing at the one nearest the Ravenclaw table, which was bubbling sluggishly, looking like a cauldron of mud, "this one here is pretty well known…Featured in ministry leaflets lately too… Who can—?"
Hermione's hand was once again the first into the air.
"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she blurted out. "Excellent, excellent! Now this one here…Yes, my dear?" Slughorn asked bemusedly, as Hermione's hand broke through the air again.
"It is called Amortentia."
"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask, but I presume you know what this one is as well?" he asked as Hermione nodded.
"It's the most powerful love-potion in the world."
"Quite right! I guess you recognized it by its mother of pearl sheen?"
"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," Hermione explained, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each person, according to what attracts us."
"May I ask your name, dear?" Slughorn asked.
"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 related more to the Blacks."
"Black?" Slughorn asked. "Are you related to Regulus Black?"
"He's my uncle," she replied, and then muttered where only Draco could hear, "more or less…"
"So young Sirius is your father!" Slughorn exclaimed, receiving a nod. "His group's pranks were quite clever. Such a shock when he was incarcerated…"
An awkward silence fell over them.
"Well, Miss Granger, take twenty well-earned points for Slytherin," Slughorn said genially. Then, he continued by 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 Draco and Theodore Nott, both of whom were smirking sceptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love…"
"And not just obsessive love," Hermione muttered quietly to Draco. "If your father ever gets wind of you dating Ginny, it may be the end of you both."
"And now," Slughorn said, "it is time for us to start work."
"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," MacMillan said, pointing to a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the colour of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.
"Oho," Slughorn said again. Hermione and Draco shared looks, indicating that they were both sure 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 curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned smiling at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what it does, Miss Granger?"
"It is liquid luck," Hermione exclaimed excitedly, "It makes you lucky!"
The whole class seemed to sit up straighter. Draco, in particular, looked interested. He had told Hermione about his mission he had received from Harish, so she knew that was the reason he wanted some.
"Quite right, take another ten points for Slytherin. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find, that all of your endeavours succeed… at least until the effects wear off."
"Why don't people drink it all the time sir?" Terry Boot asked eagerly.
"Because if taken in excess it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence." Slughorn said. "Too much of a good thing... you know…highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly and very occasionally…"
"Have you taken it sir?" asked another Ravenclaw, Michael Corner.
"Twice in my life," Slughorn replied, "Once when I was about twenty and the second when I was about fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days… And that is what I will be offering as a reward at the end of this lesson."
The room fell silent.
"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a miniscule glass bottle with a cork and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn until dusk, you will be very lucky in everything you attempt. Now I must warn you that this potion is restricted from most sports, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day…And watch it become extraordinary!"
"So," Slughorn added with a good bit of gusto, clapping his hands together, "I'm sure you're wondering how you're to win my prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be plenty of 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 be the winner of little Felix here. Off you go!"
There was a scramble in the previously still classroom as people grabbed the cauldrons and scales, though nobody spoke. Everyone was concentrating hard on their books. Draco rifled through his book feverishly and then glanced around the classroom. Some Ravenclaws were getting their ingredients together, but behind them Ron was staring at his textbook with disgust.
Draco bent back over his book and read out th instructions quickly. As he cut his valerian roots as fast as he could, he glanced over at Hermione, who was already adding her ingredients and stirring nervously. The fumes of her potion were beginning to make her hair frizz. Draco scowled at the fact that she was ahead of him, scooped up his roots, and tipped them into his cauldron.
Of course, the blonde young man was not the only one glancing around to see how everyone else was doing. Most of the class kept slipping furtive glances at the people surrounding them: 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. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progress the furthest, though Draco was only just behind. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-coloured liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.
Draco was about to cut his sopophorous bean when Slughorn passed by their table.
"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" he asked.
"Yes," Slughorn replied without looking at him, "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't expected, dragon pox at his age…"
And he walked away.
"Don't try," Hermione whispered, stirring her cauldron once again. Her potion was still deep purple, though according to the book it should have been turning a light shade of lilac. "I've heard that he isn't fond of Death Eaters' children."
Draco rolled his eyes, finally managed to cut up his bean, and watched as a solitary drop of juice fell into his cauldron, lightening his potion from an indigo colour to the same shade as Hermione's. He stared at it.
"I don't think that was enough juice," he muttered.
Hermione nodded, already working on cutting up two more beans.
Finally, Hermione's was a light lilac and Draco's was a darker shade of lilac, but he deemed it close enough. They both then moved on to stirring counter-clockwise. Their potions were still resolutely lilac and were not lightening at all.
"And time's…up!" Slughorn called. "Stop stirring, please!"
Draco and Hermione both set their ladles down on the table. Hermione watched Slughorn grow closer nervously and Draco looked around at the other potions. Although his potion was still darker than Hermione's, no one else's were as light as his. MacMillan's potion was a dark navy, and Ron's was the colour of liquorice. Some of the Ravenclaws' potions were dark purple.
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 Slytherins' table.
He grimaced at Zabini's potion, which was the colour of mucus, nodded at Theo and Draco's potions, which were both a moderately light shade of purple, but when he reached Hermione's cauldron his face split into a smile.
"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Miss Granger! Here you are, then, here you are—one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"
Hermione slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into the pocket of her robes as Draco muttered, "I don't know why I even try."
"If it's that important to you," she muttered, "you can have a mouthful, if you like."
"Really?" he asked.
"What am I going to use it for?" Hermione asked.
Draco shrugged.
As they exited the dungeon, Draco and Hermione both laughed at the sound of Ron's voice.
"No wonder my potion was horrible," the red-head grumbled. "How was I supposed to read anything out of that thing? It had been puked on!"