Sorry guys...late again, and this isn't really an eventful memory. But, the next chapter is going to be completed either tomorrow of Sunday, so there's going to be more content in 11 then this one. In the mean time, ladies and gentlemen (I assume mostly ladies but I don't know), I present to you *mysterious background music* chapter ten!

The images rebuilt themselves around them. They were now in a room that was filled with tables and cauldron. It was the potions classroom. In the front of the room, next to the cupboard which held potions ingredients, stood a much younger professor Slughorn; the one that Harry had scene in Slughorn's own memory.

The young Slughorn took a heavy stack of papers, graded papers by the looks of it, off his desk .and, with a flick of his wand, returned them all to the students around the room. All except for two.

In the very back corner of the room, sitting next to Neville's great aunt, Evelyn was beginning to panic. She probably failed this exam, her very first one here at Hogwarts. There was no way she could come up with a story for Slughorn explaining why she had failed. For the past two weeks at Hogwarts, Evelyn had done nothing but study and try to make up for what she hadn't learned. To her astonishment, it all came naturally to her. Muggle Studies was a breeze, as was Divination, which was taught by Cassandra Trawlany, who was a far more effective teacher than her granddaughter. Transfiguration and Charms were slightly more difficult, but Evelyn had paid attention in class, and nothing had gone wrong. Defense Against the Dark Arts was an interesting class, and not very practical, so Evelyn had not a lot of trouble with that

But potions. It was going to be the death of her! Evelyn was quite confident on the written portions of potions. She could describe the effects, ingredients, side effects, and generally anything relating to a potion they had gone over. But brewing them was a plain nightmare. Somehow, Evelyn never seemed to get the timing right, nor the amount of ingredients to add.

Evelyn was certain she had failed the test completely. During the written portion, she had been too busy worrying about the practical part, and certainly failed to brew a correct Draught of the Living Dead.

"I would like to congratulate two of our students for both achieving top marks out of all my fifth year classes on the written portion of your little test," announced Slughorn to the class, "Mr. Tom Riddle,"

"No surprise there," Enid muttered to Evelyn, even though she didn't look angry in the slightest. Instead, Enid sounded like she admired Riddle.

"And Miss Evelyn Floyd," concluded Slughorn with a merry chuck. "Ten points to Gryffindor and Slytherin, and ten more to Slytherin because Mr. Riddle here managed to brew me up a perfect potion."

Evelyn couldn't believe it. She had scored top marks? It was impossible! As if reading her thoughts, Enid patted Evelyn's shoulder. "I told you you would do fine," said Enid.

"Miss Floyd," said Slughorn as the bell rang signaling the end of the period, "A word in my office, if you don't mind."

Evelyn hesitated, and then stepped into Slughorn's office. Enid stood awkwardly by the door of the potions classroom, waiting for Evelyn.

"Yes, sir?" Evelyn asked Slughorn nervously. Slughorn was now staring at Evelyn's test.

"It seems that you have had trouble brewing potions," said Slughorn.

Evelyn had known this day was going to come soon. She stood there as awkward as Enid outside the classroom, unsure of what to say.

Fortunately, Slughorn spoke for her. "Don't worry, my dear," he said, taking in her nervous expression, "Professor Dippet explained to me your family matter, and I am sorry about that." His face fell slightly.

"But," Slughorn continued, "this means you will need a tutor."

"Sir!" Evelyn protested. She had quidditch, and was already tutored by Dumbledore himself, and these two activities, none of which Evelyn would ever drop out of, took up five days of the week. The two free evenings was spent in the Gryffindor Common Room, catching up on the load of homework the fifth years had been assigned in preparations for the OWLs. "Professor Dumbledore is already –"

But Slughorn had already made up his mind. He raised a hand to stop Evelyn, and then said in a cheery voice, "Just one evening a week, my dear. I do hope to have you in my NEWT class next year."

Evelyn wasn't stupid enough to argue with Slughorn; as cheery as he might seem right now, she had more than her shares worth of witnessing wild mood swings.

"Sir," said Evelyn, "Will you be tutoring me?"

Surprise registered on Slughorn's face. "Oh, no my dear," said Slughorn a little too quickly, "but I have arranged for a student to work with you in a spare classroom tonight."

Oh I hope it's the Potter boy.

He's such a charming boy, and he's not acting.

Evelyn had thought these voices were supposed to be helpful to her, as Dumbledore had told her when she had asked during their first lesson. He wouldn't explain why they were there, but he had told her their purpose. And, so far, discussing boys was not helpful in the slightest.

But we are helpful.

Yes, we are. Men are an important part of our lives.

She decided to ignore them for now; yelling at herself wouldn't make her reputation in Slughorn's room any better.

Evelyn opened her mouth to ask who the student was, but before she finished her question, Slughorn had hurried out the room, saying to them along the way, "Third room to the left on the second floor corridor by eight tonight! I'm terribly sorry, but I have to meet with Professor Dippet on OWL material!"

The images dimmed and dissolved into mist.