Chapter Ten - Expanding the Mind
Harry was surprised to see Weasley arrive at the Potions dungeon. He suffered through five years with Professor Snape. Why on Earth didn't he drop it when he had the chance? He was the sole representative from Gryffindor. There was no opportunity to inquire as the dungeon door opened on silent hinges.
Professor Snape liked the ominous creaking and had instructed Filch to never oil the door. Professor Slughorn was much more warm and inviting. His great belly preceded him out of the door, but he was all smiles as they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth.
"Harry, my boy, good to see you. Zabini, good morning." He was cheerful enough for the charm.
"Good morning, Professor," Zabini returned. Draco mocked him, waggling his head back and forth in a simpering fashion. Zabini saw him and made a horrid face at him. Draco made a rude gesture that Professor Slughorn didn't see.
The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. They all sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. Five Slytherins did not fit at a table for four, so Harry, Draco, Theo, and Tracy sat together while Zabini joined Ernie MacMillan and Weasley. The four Ravenclaws took a table together. Harry chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and the smell of Laine's perfume. At the reminder of her, he should have felt anxious, but he found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Draco, who grinned back lazily.
Professor Slughorn had a completely different lecture style from Professor Snape. He seemed genuinely excited to be teaching and to be talking about Potions. When Slughorn talked about the softly simmering cauldron, it was with warmth and affection, not cold admiration. His opening lecture presented some of the most complicated potions imaginable.
The first cauldron was full of the truth potion Veritaserum. The second, Polyjuice Potion. Harry had heard of Veritaserum before, and of course he could never forget that Hermione Granger had been brewing Polyjuice illegally when she'd been killed. The sight of her body on the floor was burned permanently into his mind.
The good-smelling one was a love potion called Amortentia, which was new to Harry. It could create a powerful infatuation with someone - not true love - nothing could manufacture or imitate that - that Harry knew instantly had incredible potential for mischief.
The last potion was a luck potion called Felix Felicis. Professor Slughorn offered up a phial of it to whoever brewed the best potion that day. Harry knew he wanted that phial, and he knew he wanted to learn how to brew Felix himself.
"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."
"Professor?" Weasley said, raising his hand.
"Yes, Weasley?"
"I haven't got a book, sir. I thought Professor Snape was going to be teaching, and I only got an E on the OWL, so-"
"Say no more, my boy!" He went to a cupboard at the back of the room and removed a book from the stack inside. "This will serve until you can purchase your own. I expect there will be a few more joining us eventually."
Weasley took the proffered book with great reluctance. It was a beat-up-looking thing, the cover barely on. He flipped it open and groaned loudly. "Sir," he said, not waiting to be called on, "this book is all marked up. Is there another?"
"Of course, of course," Professor Slughorn said, waving his hand. "Take any one you want."
Weasley stuffed the marked up, ratty book in the back of the cabinet and took one that looked almost new.
Professor Slughorn's supervision of a brewing session was also completely unlike Professor Snape. Where Snape presented a clear, step by step procedure, stood back to allow the students to succeed or fail as they would and ask questions if they dared, Slughorn walked around offering advice and encouragement. He seemed to want them to succeed at the moderately difficult potion.
After five years in class with Professor Snape, Harry had picked up a few tricks in dealing with some of the ingredients. The assigned text had a bit to be desired in some areas. He altered his preparation slightly, which he was sure was how Professor Snape would have done it, and continued on. He was extremely pleased when the draught turned out perfectly.
"Well done, Harry, well done," Professor Slughorn said, peering into his cauldron. "This is very good work."
Harry flushed a bit at the high praise. "Thank you, sir."
"Not quite good enough, I'm afraid, though, to best Miss Davis. Congratulations. Use it well," Slughorn said as he handed Tracy the phial.
Tracy accepted the liquid luck with a bit of amazement. "I will, sir. I promise." She stared at the potion in her hand.
"Congratulations, Tracy," Harry said.
She shook herself out of her trance. "Thanks. I wonder what it will be like."
Harry grinned at her. "Only one way to find out."
She nodded. "True, but I think I want to save it and wait for a perfectly ordinary day, like Professor Slughorn said."
After Potions, they were scheduled for Arithmancy, where Harry had long since left his Muggle education in maths behind. He struggled with the rest now to understand calculus.
"All of you will hate me by the time Halloween comes around," Professor Vector promised them. "I promise not to take it personally."
Within ten minutes of her lecture, Harry could see why. The woman was literally speaking Greek.
They headed towards the Great Hall for lunch. They were just about to turn the corner and head towards the stairs when Harry saw Astoria coming the other way. She locked eyes with him until she had passed him, jerking her head slightly towards a side corridor. Harry moved to the side.
"I need to visit the loo. I'll see you there."
Astoria was waiting in the shadow of the first door.
"What's up?" he said.
She glanced to make sure he hadn't been followed. "Michelle Holt won a phial of liquid luck in Potions this morning. She was very obvious that she wanted to win it, and she just as obviously knows exactly what she's going to do with it. Given how she once connived her way into getting a date with you, I thought you might want to know she's now got a potent ally."
Harry blinked with astonishment. "How do you know about that?"
Astoria gave him a pitying look. "I have my sources, Harry. Don't underestimate me because I'm only fourteen. I know everything that goes on in this school."
He still couldn't make sense of what she was saying. "You were only twelve when that happened."
"So?"
Harry gave up. "Thanks for the tip."
"Not a problem. See you later." She continued toward the common room.
Harry watched her go. He wanted to scream with sheer frustration. Didn't he have enough to deal with this year? His stomach rumbled, and he realized he was going to have to eat quickly or be late for Charms.
In the Great Hall, Tracy was the centre of attention at the Slytherin table, for she was rightly proud of herself. Everyone wanted to see the phial, and because Tracy was so willing, nobody asked to see Michelle's. Harry noted that she kept her success to herself. She hunched over her plate, eating her chicken sandwich. She didn't look at anyone. She had her Ancient Runes book open in front of her, and she turned the pages slowly.
After lunch was Charms, where Professor Flitwick announced in an entirely too cheerful manner that they would be starting non-verbal spellcasting of all spells from previous years but also the new spells they were learning. Harry and his friends had already started on that over the summer, and now Harry was thankful for the practice. He earned points when he was able to do the Levitation Charm without a sound. Nobody could get the hang of the Disarming Charm, so practice in that regard was their homework assignment.
After Charms was Care of Magical Creatures, which only Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle had along with Zabini. Theo had dropped it.
"Have fun with with Hagrid," Harry said. "Don't get killed."
"That's not funny," Millie said, laughing anyway.
"No one has died since Professor Hagrid took over the class," Zabini said. "You shouldn't joke about it."
"Shut up, Zabini," Draco drawled.
"Sod off, Malfoy."
"Both of you be quiet," Pansy snapped.
"Let them fight," Theo said.
"You too!"
"I don't have time for this," Zabini declared, sauntering off.
"I can't believe we have to put up with him all year." Draco shook his head.
Harry agreed. "He's being even more obnoxious than last year."
Amazingly enough, they were free for the rest of the day. Harry and his friends retired to the common room or, as they were apparently calling it this year, the Serpent's Lair. Harry hadn't been consulted on that designation, and he somewhat scoffed at it, but it amused the firsties, so he let it go.
"Now what?" Theo said. "Duelling?"
Harry wasn't surprised at the suggestion. "Maybe later when the others get out. I need to figure out when to have the first club meeting."
"Should we get a headstart on the homework?" Tracy said. "If we get something done on the first night it's assigned, it won't look so bad later on. If we can finish up, we might even have some free time this weekend."
"Always with the homework," Daphne teased, shoving her gently.
Tracy laughed. "Your marks could stand a bit more homework on your part."
"I'm never going to get as good of marks as you, Tracy. I accepted that a long time ago."
"It's not about doing better than me," Tracy protested. "It's about doing better than yourself, better than you did on the last test or that last potion or last term or last year, simply doing better."
Daphne changed the subject. "We could simply sit and talk. Who says we have to do anything until the others get out of classes?"
"Well," Pansy said, "I heard that Professor Slughorn had a phial of Felix Felicis for the seventh year class and both fifth year classes."
"He gave out four phials of the stuff?" Tracy said incredulously. "Who won the others?"
"Michelle Holt, Loony Lovegood, and Cho Chang," Pansy reported.
"Holt?" Tracy said sharply. "The manipulative little slag?"
Pansy nodded. "That's the one."
"She shouldn't be allowed to keep that," Tracy declared.
"Why not?" Pansy wondered lazily.
"She has a very high chance of misusing it!"
Pansy scoffed. "Of course she'll misuse it. Most anyone would. It's the sort of potion made to be misused. Aren't you going to misuse yours?"
Tracy frowned. "That's not the point."
"Tracy is right," Theo said. "That potion is too dangerous to let Holt keep it. Merlin only knows what she'd do with it. With luck on her side, she could do just about anything."
"I don't recall asking your opinion, Theodore," Pansy half-snarled.
"I wasn't aware it was a private conversation, Pansy," he needled back.
Theo and Pansy glared at each other.
"You know," she said, her tone suddenly light and sweet, "given all you've been through lately, I've been giving you a pass, but I think that time is about over. When you started talking again, your words were just as offensive as ever. I've had about all I'm going to tolerate from you."
"Are you going to hex me, Pansy?" He seemed almost eager.
"Worse," she promised him.
"Worse?"
Her eyes flashed. "I'm going to make you wish you were never born."
"I've already wished that," Theo said evenly. "A few times, actually. I had to poison my own father, Pansy. Doing that changes a man."
Her entire hostile manner dropped in an instant. "I know you did what you had to," Pansy said, her voice hushed. "I'm sorry for my turn of phrase."
He nodded. "Apology accepted."
"I know you had to do it, but it's not an excuse to treat your friends poorly."
"I know," Theo said with exasperation, running his hands through his hair. "I'm trying, but sometimes things just set me off, and I'm reacting before I can really think my way through it. I hate it. I just can't seem to stop myself."
She reached out and put a hand on his arm. "We aren't your enemies, Theo."
"I know that." He placed his hand over hers and squeezed.
"You sure do seem to forget it a lot of the time."
"I'll work on it."
"Please do."
Professor Snape appeared in the common room that evening before dinner. "Assemble the house."
David Palce, the seventh year prefect stood up. "At once, sir."
Everyone filed out of the dorms and took seats at the tables.
Snape stood by the fire, his expression almost pleasant. "It is with great pride that we gather here tonight. Tonight we make history. For the first time in our long tradition, there will now be a lady holding the rank of Quidditch team captain. There have been female players before, but never a captain. We salute you, Millicent Bulstrode."
Snape held out the Captain's badge. She reached for it, but Snape pulled it away. Then he opened the pin and affixed it to her robes.
"Speech! Speech!" Harry and Draco called.
Millicent Bulstrode was one of a handful of girls to make the Slytherin Quidditch team and the first since 1976. That rare accomplishment filled her with satisfaction. She loved playing Chaser and had been looking forward to this season all during last year. With Harry and Draco quitting the Quidditch team, it was left half-vacant and leaderless. She was the best candidate for the job, and ability mattered in Slytherin. Now the whole house was counting on her. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and tried to make her voice strong.
"Thanks everyone. I know a lot of you put in a good word for me. I'll do my best. We'll play our hardest. We need a chaser and a seeker, so come on out to trials."
Harry pulled Millie aside as everyone headed up to dinner. "I've got something to give you."
He opened up his bag and pulled out a beaten-up, leather-bound book. Her eyes grew wide, but she made no sound. She couldn't. She was too in awe.
"To you, Millicent Bulstrode, I pass the Slytherin Quidditch manual as it was passed to me. You are not worthy." He shook his head ruefully. "Nor was I. You will live up to our tradition as best you can. We may taste defeat, but never swallow it. What falls may rise again. The knowledge in this book will help you. Keep it safe."
Millie could barely hide her grin. "With my life."
He offered the book with both hands. She likewise accepted it, her hands trembling.
"Good luck, Captain," Harry said.
"Thank you, Captain," she replied solemnly. "It is an honour."
"The honour is ours, Millie. Make us proud."
"I will," she swore fervently. "I promise."
Harry had complained about Ancient Runes a great deal. He liked the subject well enough, but changing the material every year wasn't quite fair. In third year they had studied the Norse Futhark. In fourth, Anglo-Frisian and Marcomannic derivatives of the Futhark. In fifth year they had covered Celtic runes. Now they were going to learn about Hebrew.
He really wasn't sure why he was continuing in the subject. He wasn't a glutton for punishment. The subject matter was interesting, to be sure, but he wasn't sure how it was supposed to help him defeat Voldemort.
From Ancient Runes they headed down to the greenhouses for Herbology. They were in greenhouse 4 this year. Neville was there, tending to some big ugly thing that looked hungry.
"Hey, Neville," Harry said, as the Slytherins filed in.
"Hey, Harry. How's it going?"
"Fine. You?"
The Gryffindor boy grinned. "Never better."
Harry eyed the ugly plant with trepidation. "What is that thing?"
"We call him Spiny Norman," Neville said. "I'm not really sure why. He's a Spined Piranha Trapper. Keep back, please."
"No worries about that," Pansy muttered.
"Professor Sprout had to see to something," Neville informed them, "so I'll be starting the lecture for you."
"You?" Zabini said incredulously.
Neville gave him a surprisingly stern look. "I am a prefect, and prefects fill in when teachers are unavailable momentarily. Moreover, I'm already familiar with the material you're covering today. Herbology is something of a speciality of mine, so you'd be wise to listen up. Everyone please take your seats, and we'll begin."
Pansy was giving the new, assertive Neville an appraising lookover. She sat down at the table nearest to him and was joined by Tracy, Daphne, and Millie.
Harry had asked his two big friends to keep Zabini away from him during classes as much as possible. True to their word, Crabbe and Goyle stuck to Zabini like a charm, joining him as he put his bag down at a table. Only once they were safely seated did Harry take a seat as far away from them as he could, where Draco and Theo joined him.
Neville began the lecture, and Harry was stunned to see how different he was when talking about something he knew about. He sounded confident, in control, and had command of the material. Pansy hung on his every word, and Tracy thought it was hysterical, to judge from the painfully straight face she failed to keep.
It was almost a shame when Professor Sprout hurried out from the back of the greenhouse, pulling off her gloves and tucking them in a pocket. "Good morning! Sorry to be tardy. Thank you, Mister Longbottom. On your way now. Twenty points for going above and beyond the call of a prefect."
Neville inclined his head politely. "Thank you, Professor. Goodbye, class."
"Goodbye, Mister Longbottom," Harry and several others said in overly-polite tones.
Pansy watched him leave, her expression disappointed and longing. Tracy buried her face in her hands.
Sprout looked out at the way they had arranged themselves and shook her head firmly. "Two groups of four and four groups of three. That won't do. Mister Goyle, please come work over here. Mister Crabbe, over there. Mister Zabini, up front."
Crabbe was now sitting with Morag, Su, and Michael. Goyle was with Padma, Lisa, and Mandy.
Harry tried not to make a face. Here he'd specifically asked the pair to make a group with Zabini to keep him away, and now they were stuck working with him. He cursed his luck silently. He wouldn't be able to whisper anything privately to Draco or Theo.
The N.E.W.T. for Herbology sounded absolutely grueling. It required identifying over sixty plants from a list of over three hundred plants. Identification from root to bud, they were reminded. What they ate, what they drank, what soil to use.
They did not actually grub in the dirt today, so they did not need a quick visit to the common room to freshen up a bit before heading up to lunch, but Harry knew there would be days when they grabbed food and took it down to the common room to eat after cleaning up.
"Who makes these schedules?" he said as they sat down at the table.
"People who obviously think you can Apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts," Tracy replied flippantly.
"Maybe you could, once upon a time," he wondered.
Draco agreed with Harry's complaint. "Apparently the schedules were codified by the Founders years a thousand years ago and can't be changed at all."
"Can we get our lunches sent directly to the common room?" Crabbe wondered.
"You mean the Serpent's Lair," Goyle said with a grunt.
"I am not calling it that ridiculous name," Harry declared. "Do the Gryffindors call their common room the Lion's Den? Do they have a Raven's Perch or a Badger's -" he sputtered "- whatever."
"It is the name of the place," Tracy said smugly. "They told us so in first year."
"Did they?" Harry couldn't remember. "If they did, it was once, and I never heard it used after that."
She shrugged, tipping her head to the left. "Apparently they brought it back." She brushed her blonde hair back behind her ear.
"Why?"
She shrugged again, tilting to the right this time. "Do I know?"
He grinned. "You seem to know everything else, or at least act like it."
She smiled and mockingly fixed her hair as if someone were going to take her picture. "Well, false modesty is so unbecoming."
After lunch was History of Magic, where the youngest professor, Abraham Montague, had really livened up the subject. Long gone were the days when one could have a nap.
"If anyone wants a guaranteed O this year, all you have to do is buy my book and write me a report on it. You can find it at Flourish and Blotts and other fine bookshops."
Theo raised his hand. "Professor, isn't that considered extortion?"
"I suppose it could be, but you see I'm not threatening to fail anyone who doesn't buy my book. It's a completely voluntary transaction on your part."
"So it's simple bribery?"
Montague smiled. "I prefer to call it an opportunity for extra credit."
Harry had been looking forward to History of Magic class ever since Professor Montague had taken over. It was one thing to learn dry accounts of history but another thing altogether to hear the stories of people living the events as though it were some sort of cinema.
Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class was still a cakewalk. Ever since he had mastered his Animagus form, he had been quite the ace. Ever since she'd found out about it, the class had been much, much harder. He'd earned loads of points through demonstration, and he'd done perfectly on the practical portion of the O.W.L.. Still, old McGonagall deplored his essays, and he hadn't been looking forward to N.E.W.T.-level. He'd been right to be apprehensive. The material at this level was very challenging and very dangerous. Harry had to maintain his focus despite his natural skill.
Theo and Tracy, who had been working with Sirius for several weeks, were a bit sharper than normal. Everyone else seemed to be back in first year again.
After feeling like their brains had been sucked out through their noses and poured back in through their ears, they returned to the common room.
"My brain literally hurts," Draco complained.
Harry went to use the loo, letting his friends go on ahead. He whistled to himself as he walked, feeling bad for his friends who struggled with both the theoretical and the practical.
Something poked Harry in the back. He glanced back and saw someone beckoning to him from a side corridor. He investigated and found Astoria Greengrass, her hood pulled far over her face.
"Hey, Harry," she said in a low voice.
"What's up, Tori?"
She looked around to make sure no one was watching them. "Arcen and Michelle snuck off together after last class. Thought you should know."
Harry was confused. "How do you even know that?"
"I have my sources," she said with a mysterious smile. "I don't yet know if it's significant, so I thought I should play it safe and tell you."
"Thanks," Harry said, still a little uncertain.
"Not a problem. Bye."
In a flash, she disappeared around the corner. Harry fought a grin. As long as she was having fun, he supposed it couldn't hurt.
The Slytherin common room was always warm and inviting. The round tables were suitable for study or play. The couches were soft and squishy, able to fit at least five people. There was a wireless set that was often on at low volume for those who liked a bit of music while they completed assignments.
While they waited for dinnertime, the sixth and fifth years sat around the fireplace and argued over what song to listen to.
Harry found himself thinking of Laine. The current song was about loss and pain and enduring love, and he inserted his own story, realizing how closely the words matched his own feelings and situation. Tears began to build up in his eyes.
As the song changed, Harry turned down the volume.
"So Lucas, I've been meaning to ask," he said hesitantly. "Was there a service of some kind?"
Lucas wiped tears from his eyes. The song had affected him too. "A funeral? Yeah. They buried an empty casket. It was a farce, every bit of it. Then Fudge had to show up and ruin any sense of seriousness."
Harry's heart sank. "Fudge was there? Oh no." The snivelling little man was the worst possible choice to comfort the bereaved.
"He knelt down in front of my mother and father and swore to them on his honour as a wizard that her killer would be caught and sent through the veil," Lucas hissed furiously. "Well that made Mum start sobbing again. He hugged her and consoled her. My dad looked like he wanted to kill him. Then he asked if he might say a few words. Dad let him, just so he'd let go of Mum."
"Do I even want to know what he said?" Harry braced himself.
"The arse had the indecency to have a cameraman there," Lucas said through clenched teeth. "We've been turned into propaganda. I was so disgusted I nearly vomited on him."
"That's not right," Harry said hotly. "How dare he?"
"We should have a memorial service," Ginny said. "I didn't get to go either, and Laine was my best friend."
"Maybe down by the lake," Daphne suggested. "I want to help. I almost died. You all could just as easily be planning this for me."
"That would be really nice," Ginny said. "I know she would have wanted you all there."
"Who will speak?" Harry wondered.
"Anyone who wants to," Lucas replied.
"Not Michelle." Tracy's voice was firm.
"What? Why not?" Michelle protested.
"Because Laine hated you," Tracy snapped. "She would roll over in her grave."
"If she were in her grave," Michelle muttered.
"See, it's comments like that why we don't want you to speak."
Michelle glared at her. "Is that why someone stole my phial of Felix? To punish me some more?"
"I think she's glad Laine is dead," Pansy said. "Not a tear in her eye as we're sitting here planning a memorial. Only thinking of herself."
Michelle got a bit hot under the collar. "After the way she treated me for the past two years, forgive me if I don't break down sobbing," she said acidly. "I'm sorry she's dead, because now I'll never have a chance to make up with her, but she was completely out of control, and none of you did anything about her."
"You shouldn't have made a move on a boy you knew she liked," Pansy said simply. "You brought it on yourself."
Michelle blanched. "You don't think she overreacted?"
Pansy shrugged. "I can't say. You didn't offend me. If you did that to me, I don't think they'd have found you yet."
"Why are you such a megaharpy?" Michelle exploded. "You and Laine are exactly alike."
"Holt, as your legal counsel, I advise you to shut up," Daphne quipped.
Pansy's look could have frosted the lake. "Megaharpy? That's cute, coming from a slag."
"Slag?!" Michelle half-shrieked. "What is wrong with you people? I wanted a date with a boy I liked, I had a way to get it, so I took it. It was the Slytherin thing to do."
"You stupid banshee," Pansy half-whispered. "It's not just getting your own way that's important but how you get your own way. You used to be Laine's best friend."
"Until Ginny came along, yeah."
Pansy glared at her piteously. "And instead of realizing the benefits that friendship with such a well-connected girl could bring you, you chose to throw it all away, burning the bridge by making a play for her boy."
"He was never her boy, though," Michelle whinged.
Pansy sneered. "But she wanted him to be, and you knew that." She pointed an accusing finger. "That's not the act of a friend. You could have asked her if she would mind. You could even have offered to be a distraction from Padma so Harry wouldn't be too into her. But no. You chose poorly. You acted disgracefully. That's why you won't speak. Only her friends are allowed to speak. You've been interjecting yourself more this year. You may want to see about not doing that. You're not suddenly going to be popular because Laine is gone. Don't push your luck, and watch your curséd mouth. If I hear you being disrespectful, I'll take steps."
Michelle shrank back from the vehemence in Pansy's voice. "I'm still being punished for one little mistake?"
"Hardly little, Michelle." Pansy's eyes were hard as the jewels in the hourglasses in the entrance hall. "Believe it or not, you're actually getting off light."
"Light?" Michelle said with disbelief. "After the Yule Ball, nobody told me the password to the common room for the rest of the year. Last year, only the prefects would tell me."
"Laine was ready to cut your nose off," Tracy informed her. "She wanted to hang you up by your toes and put your head in a bucket of acid. Professor Snape had to place a bind upon her preventing her from attacking you on sight. I don't think you realize just how lucky you are to be breathing."
"She did calm down rather suddenly," Ginny said. "Professor Snape had to enchant her?"
"Yup. It's a well-known set of charms for parents."
"I'm just going to go now," Michelle said, now looking a bit nervous.
Tracy gave her an unfriendly stare. "You do that."
Once Michelle had left the common room, they got down to details.
Potions on Wednesday with Slughorn was again interesting. He lectured on Veritaserum. "Invented only a dozen years ago by Donald Winstelton, a Slytherin, it is the greatest aid to law enforcement since the magic suppression cuffs. Statements from confessions are not admissible in court, but they are sufficient cause for law enforcement to continue to gather evidence. It has certain drawbacks. The drinker can only speak the truth as he or she sees it. One could have been fooled or what one saw might not have been the truth. Perceptions could be fooled."
Harry thought the idea of a truth potion to be remarkably practical. It certainly would have saved Sirius a lot of grief if they'd been able to ask him about his loyalties, though it seemed no one was even inclined to question him at all.
The principles involved in brewing Veritaserum were complex, and Harry took detailed notes.
As they filed out of the classroom, Weasley came up to Harry. "When is the first meeting of that Duelling Club?"
"I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know."
Weasley grinned. "Soon, Potter, soon."
"Patience, Weasley."
"I don't do patience."
Harry couldn't help but grin back at him. "So I've noticed. Soon. In the meantime, work on your precision and silent casting."
Weasley wasn't completely happy, but he didn't press the issue. "All right." He hurried ahead to chat up Chrissy Golding.
"It's still weird when he talks to us normally," Theo said.
"Stranger things have happened than Weasley being civil," Pansy replied.
"Like what?" he said absently, his brow still furrowed on Weasley.
She smirked. "Like you remembering to bathe."
Theo snarled, but Daphne, Tracy, and Millie all laughed, and Harry tried to hide a grin as they hurried from the dungeons up to Defence with Professor Snape.
The Head of Slytherin stood at the front of the classroom with his arms folded imposingly over his chest. His robes fell seamlessly to the floor, and he appeared as a great pillar. His face might have been carved of granite. When the bell rang, they were all in their seats.
"Today, we shall discuss the Imperius Curse, which you are quite familiar with thanks to Professor Moody," he began. "I understand several of you were quite resistant to it. This is good. Any who wish to work at building resistance will need to make an appointment and bring a witness to chaperone you."
That made a certain amount of sense. Harry knew Snape didn't know that Tonks was already working with them in this regard. He would certainly get a surprise when he had trouble with most of them.
Snape continued, and the room seemed to grow colder at his awful words. "The Dark Lord delights in using the Imperius, forcing his victims to do the most horrible things. Angus McKinnon was made to torture and violate his wife, who was Muggleborn." He paused, to let them absorb the horror of it. "They made him kill his children. You might think that a parent could never harm their child, that the absolute love would let one fight the curse, but you would be wrong. They commanded him to laugh as he smothered them with pillows. The power of Imperius is near absolute. If you can be put under, you will do anything. Only if your mind is strong enough to resist will you retain your free will."
Harry shivered. Snape made it real for them in a way no other teacher could. He had been a Death Eater and had seen the atrocities firsthand. When he had finished with Imperius, Snape set them to work casting non-verbal curses until the bell rang.
"Nott, Potter, and Malfoy! Remain!"
"What'd we do?" Harry muttered to Draco.
"No idea."
"Sir?" Harry asked when the room had cleared.
The former Potions Master watched them for a moment, his black eyes glittering. "I understand Professor Slughorn lectured on Veritaserum today."
"He did, sir," Draco answered.
"Veritaserum is a powerful potion, but it is not one hundred percent reliable."
"No!" Theo gasped.
"It is possible to beat it," Snape confirmed. "Part of the Auror training programme involves learning how to lie under the influence of the serum. They start with small sips of one drop diluted in a glass of water and work up to five drops directly under the tongue."
Draco shivered. "Under it?" he repeated in a sick voice.
Snape nodded. "The maximum legal dosage in official use is three drops on the tongue, and even that is extremely rare. The Aurors are made of stern stuff, make no mistake. Now, why would they need to subject themselves to this?"
"In case they ever get captured," Draco answered at once. "They will be pumped for information, and if they can lie, wow."
"Correct. Passing on misinformation can be invaluable in saving lives. Even if the Auror's own life is lost, the sacrifice will have meaning. His name will be remembered."
"Are you recruiting for the Aurors, then, sir?" Theo asked cheekily.
Snape frowned. "Hardly. What I am suggesting, idiot boy, is that you follow their example and desensitize your body to the serum. Your little war won't always be bloodless, and I will not have you unprepared for reality. Am I perfectly clear, or should I use shorter words, Nott?"
"No, sir. Not needed, sir."
"I have taken the liberty of assuming you will see the merit of the suggestion and prepared a small batch of Ministry-strength Veritaserum. Here is one vial. It should last until about Halloween, when I will release the other vial to you. The stuff doesn't keep well, even under a Preservative Charm, so I will brew again over Christmas. In fact," Snape said with a twisted smile, "it can be my present to you."
"Illegal potions," Draco exclaimed. "Just what I always wanted!"
"Not more than a drop in a glass of water," Snape cautioned. "Remember to sip."
At lunch Harry looked at his schedule and realized they were entering a slow point. The afternoon classes were Astronomy and Muggle Studies, which they would all be skipping. Thursday was electives day. Harry and most of the others had to get up for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, but after lunch they were free unless they were taking Care of Magical Creatures. Harry figured it would be a great time for the core of his Order to practice.
Thursday was a good day for getting homework done. Harry settled on Monday and Thursday nights for Duelling Club. Friday was a rough day. Four core classes and Astronomy at midnight. Saturday would be a day of recovery. Sunday would be for work.
Harry hoped that he wouldn't get overwhelmed this year. He hadn't liked feeling so out of control, stretched so thin. This year he was going to keep it together.