Disclaimer: I don't own the dystopic world of Harry Potter where basilisk victims are left untreated for months.
Chapter 14: The Thin Line Between Legend and History
Students crowded around the trophy room, pressing forward to try and see what was going on; questions flew about from those in the back who couldn't make it forward.
"Coming through, make way, coming through," McGonagall's voice cut through the chattering and students parted to allow the Deputy Headmistress through. Professors Slughorn and Lockhart followed her. After a brief examination of the girl, Slughorn headed into the trophy room to do likewise to the twins while McGonagall turned to face the crowd. "Everyone disperse, back to your common rooms until further notice." As the crowd broke apart, Slughorn levitated the twins and the girl while McGonagall turned to Harry and Elizabeth. "Come with me."
"You are in serious trouble, young lady," Lockhart said to Elizabeth.
"But I didn't—," Elizabeth began
"Professor Lockhart," McGonagall interjected "I am the Deputy Headmistress and the head of Gryffindor House; I will make that determination, if and when it should be necessary."
"But—," Lockhart's sputtering protest was cut off by a sharp look from McGonagall.
"Now, come with me."
They followed McGonagall and Slughorn down a flight of stairs past Lockhart's office. Rounding a corner their progress towards the Hospital Wing came to a halt outside a girl's bathroom; a pool of water was on the floor and on the wall above it were foot-high letters written in red:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
THE UNWORTHY WILL BE PURGED.
"Do either of you know anything about this?" McGonagall asked Harry and Elizabeth; they both shook their heads and they continued on to the infirmary; on arriving Pomfrey and Slughorn began examining the twins; the girl remained immobilized. Lockhart stood over them and started babbling in his usual manner. Finally they looked up, Pomfrey raised her hand to silence Lockhart, and McGonagall cancelled the spell on the girl, then said, "Kitty Sharp, what happened?"
Kitty Sharp immediately stood up, her eyes no longer looking glazed over; now she just looked around in confusion.
"I—I don't know; I don't remember anything; I was walking along and then—nothing."
Elizabeth suddenly found everyone's gaze on her and she said:
"I was walking to the trophy room, I thought I would find Harry there; instead I found Fred and George already like that, and then she attacked me. I held her off as best as I could, then Harry arrived, and we stopped her."
"I swear," said Kitty, shaking her head. "I don't remember anything."
"I was in my detention with Professor Lockhart," Harry continued, "We heard crashing noises and went to investigate." Lockhart nodded along.
"Well," said Pomfrey, "whoever or whatever did this did not kill them." ("What? Not kill them? said Lockhart) "They have been Petrified." ("Ah! I thought so!" said Lockhart).
"I will have to brew a Mandrake Restorative Draught," said Slughorn, "unfortunately, though, it requires fresh mandrake which we don't currently have; we'll have to wait for Sprout's mandrake's to mature."
"Wait, what?" Harry started. "You mean to tell me that you have no mandrake in your stores at all?"
"Of course I have mandrake," Slughorn said. "I have jars full of powdered mandrake and stewed mandrake, but I don't have fresh mandrake, which is what this recipe requires; there's no way to safely preserve fresh mandrake and so it's not easy to come by."
Harry turned to Madam Pomfrey. "And you don't have any of this potion already made?"
"This is a school, young man," Pomfrey replied. "Petrification is not a common ailment, so I have no reason to stockpile the cure for it. Even St. Mungo's Hospital doesn't stockpile it; there simply isn't enough of a demand, because magic that causes petrification is rare and difficult on top of being illegal."
"Well if it's that hard to do," Harry wondered, "Then who could have done this?"
"Ask her!" Lockhart abruptly interjected, pointing at Elizabeth.
"No second year could have done this," said McGonagall firmly. "this is clearly Dark Magic of the most advanced —"
"She did it, she did it!" Lockhart spat frantically. "She's Sirius Black's daughter; she must know loads of Dark Magic—,"
"I never touched them!" Elizabeth said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at her.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Gilderoy," McGonagall said firmly.
Elizabeth just couldn't help herself. "Well, it's nice to know someone is familiar with that concept."
"Mind your tongue, Ms. Black," said McGonagall. "You and Mr. Potter may go, Ms. Sharp, remain here."
They left as quickly as they could without actually running. They were almost at the Great Hall when they ran into Hermione and Neville; they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces.
"Harry, I—," Elizabeth began but Harry cut off her.
"I believe you," Harry said, "How could I not?" Elizabeth's eyes watered and she nodded, then embraced him.
"What happened?" Hermione asked and they explained. "I believe you too," Hermione continued after they had finished.
"As do I," Neville agreed.
"Thank you, both of you."
"Hey," said Hermione "What are friends for?"
"Why would that Sharp girl do this?" Elizabeth asked.
"Well it sounds like she doesn't know either," Harry replied.
"You believe her?"
"I don't know what to believe," Harry admitted. "But we shouldn't automatically dismiss what she said, or else we'll be no different than Lockhart."
"Fine," Elizabeth grudgingly admitted with a sigh.
The Great Hall was alive with chatter, gossip, and rumors; but as they entered the noise suddenly started to die away in an expanding bubble of silence as more and more people spotted Elizabeth. The air suddenly felt thick with tension and the silent accusations she could see on so many faces made her want to start yelling. Harry took her arm, caught her gaze, shook his head.
They took seats at the Gryffindor table and space suddenly opened up around them as if they had leprosy. The chatter abruptly resumed again, as if that had somehow been a signal, but quieted down when McGonagall arrived and formally announced what had happened to Fred and George. A shadow fell over the general mood, sapping all joy from the Halloween feast.
After a desultory meal, Harry stood and followed his fellow Quidditch teammates to the Hospital Wing; of them all, he was closest to Katie Bell as they'd joined the team at the same time. Angelina, Alicia, and the twins tended to treat him more as an annoying kid brother than as a friend, while Wood was more of a mentor—at least when he wasn't being a taskmaster running drills in the rain.
They arrived to find the Hospital Wing full of Weasleys: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were fussing over their petrified sons, while Percy, Ron, and Ginny looked on in various states of shock. Pomfrey bustled over.
"This place is crowded enough, family members only, please leave."
Harry heard footsteps approaching from behind. Mafalda Prewett walked past unchallenged.
"Hey," said Wood, "How come she gets to be here?"
Mafalda turned back to face them. "Because I am family," she said. "Even if they spend most of their time pretending otherwise."
"Is that because you're a Slytherin?" Harry wondered.
"No," said Malfada, "It's my father's a squib and my mother's a muggle."
"I didn't think the Weasley's were—," Angelina trailed off uncertainly, unwilling to actually say it.
"Oh they aren't," Mafalda said, obviously seeing what Angelina had been alluding to; it seemed like a familiar subject to her. "At least not like that. But every family has skeletons in their closet." And with that she turned and walked into the infirmary.
Harry and the others turned to leave.
"Do you know anything at all, Harry?" Wood asked him.
"Only that Mandrake Restorative Draught is apparently a very finicky potion," Harry replied. "It needs fresh mandrake, which they said isn't easy to come by; so they plan to wait for Professor Sprout's mandrakes to mature."
"What?" said Angelina, "But that won't be until May or June of next term; we can't just leave them like that for the better part of a year! What's going to happen to their educations?"
"What's going to happen with our Quidditch team?" Wood asked rhetorically. "Our first game is next week, we'll have to hold emergency tryouts for interim Beaters and then extra practices…" The others all groaned.
Over the next few days the school could talk of little else but the attack. Filch was frequently seen scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. The other students had always been wary of Elizabeth before but now they practically fled at the sight of her; even many of their fellow Gryffindors were now actively shunning her. The only exception was the Slytherin Quidditch team, who were now complimenting her whenever she crossed paths with one of them and whenever she tried to tell them off, they simply smiled and winked as if it was part of some game. The only other student who seemed to be taking everything in stride was Malfoy, who was overheard several times telling various muggleborn students that "they would be next".
Not many Gryffindors showed up to Wood's emergency Beater tryouts; Lee Jordan, longtime friend of Fred and George, managed to secure one of the spots; the other went to an arrogant third-year named Cormac MacLaggen. Everyone else on the team disliked him at once, but unfortunately MacLaggen was head and shoulders better than any of the other contenders.
(*)
The Monday after the attacks found Arthur Weasley back in his office at the Ministry, though he was finding it hard to concentrate on his work—
A knock sounded on his door.
"Enter," Arthur said in a tired voice.
The wizard who entered had brown hair, blue eyes, and was very immaculately tailored, with expensive and heavily enchanted robes and white gloves on his hands. Even the way he walked showed a degree of refinement often seen in the upper-class. Although they hardly moved in the same circles, Arthur still recognized him.
"Argo Pyrites?" Arthur wondered. "What brings you to my office?"
"First," Argo said; even his voice sounded refined, cultured, and posh. "I would like to express my condolences for the attack on your sons."
"Thank you," Arthur said with a nod. This was hardly the first time someone had said it since the event, but he'd hardly expected Argo Pyrites of all people to do so considering how often they were at odds politically.
"Second," Argo continued, "As I am sure you are aware, as a result of certain recent events your Muggle Protection Act has stalled in the Wizengamot."
Arthur nodded again. The act had been on track to getting approved in the spring when the scandals at Hogwarts—the death of Quirrel and the arrest of Snape—had lost Dumbledore a lot of support and forced him to burn quite a few favors; it had also stalled his act since Dumbledore was it's biggest supporter. The latest complaints coming in from all quarters about Lockhart weren't helping at all.
"I have discussed the matter with my allies," Argo said, "And we are prepared to withdraw our opposition in return for two favors."
"What favors?" Arthur asked cautiously.
"First, an amendment to the act granting a 30-day amnesty period for the new contraband."
Arthur grimaced but nodded. He didn't like it, but it was too reasonable an offer to refuse; not if it meant getting his act passed. "And the second is that when you do start organizing your raids, put Karen Black at the top of your list."
Now Arthur blinked. "Karen Black? Why, she's a muggleborn."
"A muggleborn married to a notorious dark wizard," Pyrites reminded him. "And one whose daughter may have been involved in the attack on your sons."
"That has not been proven yet." Arthur said, though Ginny and even Molly were already convinced of it.
"Oh of course not," Pyrites agreed, "But it also hasn't been disproven, and considering that family's reputation…"
Arthur frowned and settled down into his chair. Little though he liked to admit, Pyrites had made an excellent point. Was it possible that Karen Black was getting desperate enough to try and blackmail people into supporting her? And that she'd found some way—some artifact or spell perhaps—that enabled her daughter to open the Chamber of Secrets and control whatever it was that had attacked Fred and George? If any family knew of a way to do that, it was certainly the Black Family; their knowledge of the Dark Arts was second to none, except maybe the Dark Lord himself.
"Perhaps you are right," Arthur admitted, "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to make sure she isn't up to anything. Better safe than sorry, yes?"
Now Argo Pyrites smiled. "Yes, indeed."
(*)
On Wednesday, after days of doing little else but reading and not saying why, Harry, Elizabeth, and Neville finally were able to meet Hermione in the library to find out what she had been up to; she looked irritated.
"All the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."
"Why do you want it?" said Harry.
"The same reason everyone else wants it," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."
"What's that?" said Harry quickly.
"That's just it. I can't remember," said Hermione, biting her lip. "And I can't find the story anywhere else —"
"Perhaps I can help," an ethereal voice said from behind them. They turned to see Luna Lovegood holding a copy of Hogwarts, A History; she set it down in front of them and opened it. "Ahh, here we go; the Chamber of Secrets."
They all gathered around to read the section.
'Not long after the school was formally opened an argument broke out between the four founders regarding the admittance of students born to muggles. Slytherin opposed it but was outvoted by the other three; this disagreement eventually led to Slytherin leaving the school entirely. Rumors began circulating almost immediately thereafter that Slytherin had left behind a hidden room called 'the Chamber of Secrets' wherein lay a monster of some sort that only Slytherin and his heirs could control. But despite a thorough search of the castle, no such secret chamber has ever been found'.
"That's it?" Hermione said, looking disappointed.
"What do you mean 'that's it'," Harry asked, "What were you expecting to find?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Hermione, "A little more detail, perhaps."
"Thanks for sharing this with us, Luna," Neville said and the others promptly echoed their own belated apologies.
"You are quite welcome," said Luna. "Knowledge is meant to be shared, not hidden away."
(*)
History of Magic remained as boring as it had ever been, with the ghost Professor Binns reading his notes in a droning tone that sounded like an old vacuum cleaner, quickly putting almost everyone into a stupor. But half an hour into the class something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.
Professor Binns, glancing up in the midst of his lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed. "Miss — er —?"
"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.
Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance. Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms. Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk. Seamus Finnegan sat up with a jolt. Parvati Patil straightened in her chair. Sophie Roper awoke with a start. Fay Dunbar abruptly perked up. Elizabeth was suddenly wide awake.
Professor Binns blinked. "My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk slipping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers —" He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again. "Miss Grant?"
"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"
Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Harry was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead. "Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale —"
But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Harry could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest. "Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets…
"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."
He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.
"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy and at a high risk of becoming Obscurials. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school after his own proposal to the problem—that muggleborns be removed from their families as soon as they are identified—was rejected by the other three. At least one of Slytherin's descendants is known to have migrated to America where they helped to establish Ilvermony."
Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise. "Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it either to defend the school from attackers or to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic—depending on which version of the legend you read."
There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns' classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed. "The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."
Lavender's hand was in the air. "What do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"
"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice. The class exchanged nervous looks. "I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."
"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"
"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing —"
"But, Professor," piped up Parvati Patil, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it —"
"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't, Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore —"
"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't —" began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had had enough.
"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"
And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.
"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Neville told Harry and Hermione as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. "But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn't be in his house if you paid me."
Elizabeth and Hermione nodded fervently, but Harry didn't say anything. His stomach had just dropped unpleasantly.
Harry had never told anyone that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he'd placed the hat on his head a year before: 'yet I also see in you the potential to be utterly ruthless in the protection of those you care about. What would you say to Slytherin, hmm?' Harry had refused to be in the same house as Draco Malfoy but now he started to wonder if that had been the only reason the Hat had gone along with him. If he hadn't met Malfoy before the Sorting, would it still have put him in Gryffindor—with Elizabeth—if he had asked…or would it have insisted on Slytherin?
"D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Neville asked Hermione.
"I don't know," she said, frowning. They turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the corridor with the message. They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.
"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry and they split up to look for clues.
"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny…"
The others crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.
"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.
"No," said Harry, "have you, Neville?"
"No," he said.
"Nope," said Elizabeth, "Quite odd."
Harry said, "There was water on the floor, but now it's been mopped up."
"It was about here," said Elizabeth, pointing. "Level with this door."
Neville reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.
"What's the matter?" said Harry.
"Can't go in there," said Neville gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."
"Oh, Neville, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione standing up and coming over.
"Yeah," Elizabeth agreed. "This is Moaning Myrtle's place."
"Who's Moaning Myrtle?" Harry asked
"I'll show you," said Hermione. And ignoring the large OUT OF ORDER sign, she opened the door.
It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.
Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"
The others went to look. A young-looking female ghost—Moaning Myrtle Harry assumed—was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.
"This is a girls' bathroom," she said, eyeing Neville and Harry suspiciously. "They're not girls."
"No," Hermione agreed. "I just wanted to show them how er —"
"—how nice it is in here." Elizabeth supplied, waving vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.
"Did you see anything out of the ordinary on Halloween night?" Harry asked "A message was written right outside your door and two people were attacked."
"I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle. "I was at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party and then Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm — that I'm —"
"Already dead," said Neville helpfully.
Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.
Harry and Neville stood with their mouths open, but Hermione shrugged wearily and said, "Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle…"
"No kidding," said Elizabeth. "Come on, let's go."
Harry had barely closed the door on Myrtle's gurgling sobs when a loud voice made all four of them jump.
"What is going on here?" Percy Weasley had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face. "That's a girls' bathroom!" he gasped. "What were you two doing in there?" He asked Harry and Neville.
"Just having a look around," Harry shrugged. "There might be clues, you know —"
Percy swelled up and said. "No, absolutely not; we lost the House Cup last year because of your mischief, I won't have any more of it; you stay away from here and let the teachers handle this." He was striding toward them and starting to bustle them along, flapping his arms. "Don't ever let me catch you here again!"
"Or what?" Elizabeth challenged.
"Go!" Percy retorted. "Don't ever come back here!"
They chose seats as far as possible from Percy in the common room that night.
Elizabeth abruptly slammed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 shut. To Harry's surprise, Hermione followed suit.
"Who can it be, though?" Hermione said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation they had just been having. "Who'd want to attack Fred and George?"
"Well, let's see, hmm," said Elizabeth in mock puzzlement. "Who's been strutting about the past few days telling people 'you'll be next, mudbloods!'?"
"If you're talking about Malfoy—"
"Of course I am!" said Elizabeth. "We already know that his dad was a Death Eater back in the day."
"That doesn't mean that he's the Heir of Slytherin," said Hermione skeptically.
"True," said Neville. "But they could still be involved; my gran told me that You-Know-Who always claimed to be descended from Slytherin, and we know he's still around."
Harry felt a sudden coldness in the pit of his stomach as he once again mentally relived his encounter with Voldemort earlier that year. And then he remembered that house-elf, Dobby, who'd tried to warn him about some plot. And how Karen had named the Malfoy's as among the likely suspects.
"Even if Malfoy's not the heir," Harry finally said. "He could still know something."
"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible…"
"But how do we prove it?" said Elizabeth.
"There might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect —"
"And since when has that ever stopped us?" Harry asked.
"We must have broken at least that many last year," Elizabeth quipped.
"What we'd need to do," Hermione said "is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."
"But that's impossible," Neville said.
"No, it's not," said Hermione. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."
"What's that?" Neville asked.
"Professor Slughorn mentioned it in class a few weeks ago," said Hermione.
Harry furrowed his brow as he searched his memory. "Oh you're brilliant Hermione; Polyjuice Potion turns you into someone else."
"For about an hour per dose, yes," said Hermione, her cheeks heating a bit.
"That is brilliant," said Elizabeth, "We could change into Slytherins, get close to Malfoy in their common room, and listen to him boasting."
"But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult," said Hermione, "Slughorn said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library." There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: You needed a signed note of permission from a teacher."
"But how do we get that?" Harry asked.
"Well aren't you two Slughorn's star pupils?" Elizabeth asked, looking at him and Hermione.
Harry shook his head. "As much as Slughorn likes us, I don't think he's gonna buy that 'we're just interested in the theory' or any kind of lame excuse like that."
Hermione smirked. "I have an idea."