Chapter 21

MEMORY

Hermione had spent the essay portion of Snape's test writing non-stop. That was a good sign, Harry thought. But every time he'd glanced at her, her lips had been moving. Now they'd progressed to the practical portion of the test. Even the professor's warning glances hadn't stopped her mouth from forming a steady stream of silent words.

Ron stood before Snape, peering nervously at a fizzing red concoction that stank like an undershirt after a full day of Quidditch. "It's Remember Me Potion, sir. At least, it will be after you add string, uh, nine millimeters of cotton string."

Snape's sallow face remained impassive, not betraying by even a flicker of an eyelid whether Ron had been correct. "Would you give such a potion to a living entity?"

"Uh, no, sir. It would kill. You'd sprinkle it on an object that you don't want to forget to bring with you somewhere."

Harry frowned at the mustard-colored goo he'd been asked to identify. Had he been right to name it Misspeak Potion? Or was it really half-brewed Glory?

"Next," Snape announced, neither acknowledging nor dismissing Ron.

Harry nudged Hermione toward a cauldron filled with a bile-green liquid reminiscent of partially brewed truth potion. She moved toward it like a sleepwalker.

"Miss Granger. Identify."

"Veritaserum."

I was right, Harry thought. Too bad that hadn't been his question.

"Three quarts melted snow," Hermione recited. "Four grains mashed candori root. Steep eleven minutes. Blend in seven drams sphinx—"

"That's enough. You weren't asked to show off."

When Hermione didn't stop droning, only lowered her voice, Harry cringed. Any moment now, red spots would appear on Snape's cheekbones.

But instead, the black eyes narrowed speculatively. "Miss Granger, you have convinced me that you've memorized the formula and are qualified for employment by the Auror Investigational Service. No doubt you're aware that information extracted by veritaserum is inadmissible in court unless independently substantiated. Tell me why."

Hermione stared blankly at the cauldron, then resumed repeating ingredients and preparation steps. Crabbe sniggered.

Because the truth of any information revealed is only partial, Harry urged her silently. Different viewpoints are necessary to truly understand it.

"That's enough, Miss Granger," Snape said as Hermione continued rambling. "Enough. Go stand by my office door. I will speak to you after the lesson."

Avery and Malfoy exchanged triumphant smirks. Reluctantly, Harry let Hermione stumble off alone. Talking to her during the test would just get her into more trouble. Ron swayed, as if also suppressing an urge to follow.

"Next."

Only Neville was left. Harry could see him trembling in his shoes. When Snape pointed imperiously at the last cauldron, their housemate inched forward.

"Tranquility potion, sir," Neville whispered without being asked. "Nearly."

Snape's face stayed expressionless as he extended a lavender phial. "Complete the brew and bring us all some peace."

Shakily, Neville reached for the small bottle. "Essence of bluebird song," he rasped. "Just a drop." At first, he couldn't dislodge the cork. Then he gave it a sharp tug. The phial popped open, and its entire contents sprayed into the cauldron.

A sensation swept over Harry of a flock of birds squawking and pecking. Classmates shrieked and flailed at invisible pests. Flinging his arms over his head, Neville crumpled to the floor. By Snape's office door, Hermione remained stiff as a post.

"The lesson is over," the Potions master shouted above the pandemonium. "Class dismissed. Everyone except Miss Granger and Longbottom."

Harry took several deep breaths, digging deep for the discipline Cho had tried to teach him. Ignoring the crawling feeling overwhelming his arms and legs, he hurried to Hermione. Ron joined him, swatting at non-existent birds. They each took one of her hands and pulled her into the office. Turning, Harry saw Snape chanting one of the many spells he used to cancel student catastrophes. By the time the rest of the students had fled, the atmosphere of horrible discomfort was gone as well.

As the professor stalked toward them, Ron begged, "Please, sir. She's ill."

Snape inspected her coolly. "Self-inflicted." He glanced from Harry to Ron. "The ever faithful. You two might as well come along." He closed his door behind them and strode to his desk.

Harry and Ron kept their mouths shut while they waited for Snape to settle in his chair. Harry squeezed Hermione's fingers, hoping to stop her babbling.

"Elixir of Infinite Memory," Snape said at last. "The very potion I warned against when lecturing about memory enhancement. Miss Granger just had to try it."

Harry's mouth opened a little as he remembered that long ago session of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Any pupil willing to use a Time-Turner to double up lessons for a year would leap at the chance for total recall. Now he knew what Hermione had been doing in the library: memorizing volumes whole.

Snape leaned back in his mahogany chair. "I'm tempted to expel you from my class for trying to gain an unfair advantage over your fellow students."

Hermione looked stunned—but not more so than when staring at her examination cauldron.

"Yet I am rather impressed you managed to turn out such a complex potion." Snape studied her uncomprehending face with amusement. "Tell me, what is the formula for Weltschmerz Tonic as described in Rauschen, Lautheit, and Schreien's Bavarian Desideratum?"

Like one drugged, Hermione rattled off a list of ingredients ranging from cockatrice eggs to eidelweiss blossoms, along with the exact measurements, preparation steps, and infusion times. She ended by stating the page number.

"My compliments. And its uses?"

"Relief of melancholy, angst, and the burdens of the world."

"Yes," Snape answered. "I believe that's a quote from the text. Tell me, if Potter skinned his knee running late to class, would you give him Weltschmerz Tonic? Or would you save it for the day he discovers that one desire all the applause in the world can never win for him?"

Hermione's dazed look didn't change. Harry glared at the professor.

Snape glanced at him sidelong. "Nothing personal, of course. Just demonstrating the disadvantages of infinite memory. So much lumber is stacked in Miss Granger's brain at the moment that she is incapable of determining what it might build."

Ron turned to Hermione, his forehead pinched with worry. He waved a hand in front of her eyes. When she didn't react, he grasped her shoulders.

Snape laughed. "Shake away, young Weasley. Miss Granger made too potent a potion for that to have an effect. To my knowledge, only one other fifth-year ever made one as successful—with the same problematical results, I'm afraid."

Harry gave Snape a measuring look. "And how did he get over it?"

The professor smiled faintly. "His housemates walked him to his bed, placed a blindfold over his eyes, closed the curtains, and left him for three days while a dozen library shelves of potions and spells rolled mercilessly through his brain."

"Three days?" Still staring into Hermione's blank brown eyes, Ron swallowed hard.

Snape didn't answer, instead bending to rummage in a low drawer. "Happily for Miss Granger, an antidote now exists." Straightening, he held out a slim magenta vial. "Take this and her to Madame Pomfrey. I'll send instructions for how to administer the drops. Afterwards, she must lie in a dark corner of the infirmary. By evening, Miss Granger's conscious mind should be free of the wisdom of the ages."

Ron took the vial in one hand and gingerly retook Hermione's hand in his other. "She'll forget everything she read?"

"Never. Her unconscious memory should retain each word—although it may take her years to sort it all."

Harry glanced from his friends to Snape. "You said you wouldn't make her leave the class."

"Did I?" Snape shrugged. "When she returns from holiday, she must give a quarter-hour class presentation on the drawbacks of memory enhancing potions." He paused. "And she must write me a step-by-step account of how she made it."

Harry shot Ron a relieved grin. Even if Snape didn't remember it, unburdening himself under the influence of Somnoleveritaphantasmagoria Powder must have done him some good. Never before had he shown such mercy.

The professor's smile broadened. "And ten points from Gryffindor."

When Harry and Ron trudged out of Snape's office, steering Hermione, between them, she resumed reeling off potion recipes like an automaton. Harry had forgotten about Neville until Snape's voice rang out: "Longbottom."

Neville squeaked.

Harry caught sight of his classmate, hyperventilating in the corner. "Are you—?"

"Okay," Neville whimpered.

"Buck up," Ron said. "He's in an awfully good mood. Slytherin just gained on Gryffindor by ten points."

"Longbottom!" Snape called again.

As they exited the dungeon, Harry whispered to Ron. "Hermione losing us points doesn't look so bad when you consider the alternative: being kicked out of Potions. Poor Neville."

Please review!