Lucy's Theatrical Debut

The next few days passed without note. I struggled through Transfiguration and Charms, cursing my stubbornly useless wand. Strangely enough, I couldn't bring myself to look forward to Potions; memories of my essay and the fact that I shared the class with the Gryffindor seventh years soured my eagerness.

Instead, I threw myself into brewing my potions, churning out another batch of Dreamless Sleep for Valencia and Jasper. Meredith Thomas's Essence of Aphrodite was also coming along nicely and was due for completion in another two weeks. I'd even managed to make another advancement with Euphoria #2; the minced Doxy eggs, once strained with Honeywater, blended nicely with the dragon liver. The potion still didn't have the rapid burst of joy I wanted it to have, but at least it had made me smile - a difficult feat these days, for my prior outburst haunted me more than I cared to admit.

The more I recalled my words, the more shame I felt. All those times I'd suppressed the urge to lash out were rendered moot with one single vanishment of self-control. Merlin, he'd only been trying to help. He hadn't deserved my anger. No one did.

Still, I couldn't apologise; that would only draw more attention, and as it was, my outburst was a blessing in disguise. Although it had thoroughly earned the Gryffindor cheer squad's enmity, it had also squashed their curiousity. My Housemates were satisfied, my business was thriving, and I...I felt torn.

It wasn't like I owed him anything. Besides that one, pity-fueled offer, he'd done nothing to aid me. Even the return of the journal had been sparked by guilt. I hardly knew him, yet still I felt remorse.

On the third day of my work-fuelled fervor, Lucy barged into the Room.

I looked at her blearily before turning back to the bubbling cauldron. Although I'd brewed the standard love potion antidote dozens of times - I always took care to replenish my supply whenever I sent out another batch of Essence of Aphrodite - I was having difficulty making this batch. The violet, gritty potion was refusing to turn blue and smooth. I'd tried everything; I'd even added a chunk of my own hair, which often provided the necessary burst of magic needed to tame even the wiliest of potions. Now I was missing a sizeable clump of hair on my left side and I was still left with an unusable potion.

In short, I was feeling frustrated and, once again, dangerously close to lashing out.

"Willa! I have not seen you in three days!" Lucy said accusingly. "Have you even been eating?"

I waved her off, glaring down at the potion. Maybe it needed more hair. I grabbed my dulled silver knife - I'd need to sharpen it soon - and brought it close to my hair, switching to the right side after a moment's consideration. Might as well make the mutilation symmetrical, I reasoned.

Lucy grabbed my arm and wrenched the knife away with a surprising feat of strength.

"Willa Thorne!" she snapped, pointing the knife menacingly towards me. I blinked again, my fatigue coming back with a vengeance. I hadn't even returned to the Slytherin common room; I'd been too busy brewing my potions. Speaking of which...my gaze trailed back to the cauldron, and Lucy scowled.

"AGUAMENTI!" she bellowed, jabbing her wand in my direction. A spray of ice-cold water hit me squarely in the face, splattering onto my stained robe and into the cauldron.

I yelped, trying in vain to block the spray with my hand.

"MERLIN, LUCY! YOU'RE GOING TO RUIN THE POTION!" I shrieked.

She stopped the spell reluctantly, but it was too late; I estimated that a full pint of water had fallen into the love potion antidote.

I closed my eyes, ready to give up on the whole bloody batch, when the scent of a salty sea breeze swept through the air.

Wha-?

I quickly stirred the potion, watching in amazement as the once-gritty potion gradually smoothed, paling in colour to a serene blue.

"Dear Merlin," I breathed, my mind whirling with the possibilities. The water had obviously provided a more potent boost than my hair had, although that could be because I was practically a Squib. Could any water cause the same effect, or did it have to be water produced from a wand? I would hypothesise that it was the latter, but I wouldn't know for sure without further experimentation.

My hair was still drenched with the water, and I caught a stray drop in the palm of my hand. I swiveled towards the small copper cauldron burbling in the corner of the room and, careening past my confused sister, unceremoniously began wringing my hair into the dull orange contents.

"What are you doing?" I heard Lucy ask.

"I don't know!" I shouted back, my voice a bit crazed. Still, Euphoria #2 was gradually brightening, the dull, brown-orange colour intensifying to a saturated neon yellow dappled with orange. The texture had changed as well; the potion, which had once been the consistency of watered down oatmeal, now appeared in airy, voluminous clouds of mist swirling densely at the bottom of the cauldron.

I scooped a vial into the mist, clamping my hand over the top to prevent the potion from spilling.

Lucy walked to my side, peering dubiously into the cauldron. "You're - you're not going to just drink that, are you?" she said.

I blinked at her. "Of course I'm not going to just drink it," I said. "I'm going to record the appearance."

Lucy nodded, exhaling in relief.

"Then," I continued, my eyes still fixed on the beautiful, beautiful contents, "I will drink it."

Ignoring her protests, I scrawled a quick description of its appearance in my log book before lifting the vial to my lips.

"Cheers!" I said. Then, without further delay, I downed the contents, feeling the airy liquid slide smoothly down my throat.

I felt it spool in my stomach, provoking an odd but not unpleasant tickling sensation, almost as if the softest of feathers were lightly brushing my insides. Lucy looked at me worriedly, her hands clasped before her. I shrugged, disappointment making my mouth sour. "I guess I was wr-"

My mouth snapped closed as my eyes widened, my pupils dilating. The mild tickling had increased exponentially, surging an emotion so intense that it could only be called rapture through my brain. I gasped, my knees buckling, as the colours in the room intensified, my throat tilting back as I let loose a wild, unrestrained laugh. I felt as if pure, unadulterated ecstasy was poring, golden and thick, from my skin, from my hair, from my lips. I felt alive, I felt - I felt -

"Euphoria," I whispered, my face alight with joy. Lucy still looked worried, and I giggled, pulling her into a quick, tight hug.

Curiously enough, I felt none of the lingering rage I always felt simmering in the back of my head. Instead, I was...light, free.

I was free!

I laughed again, grabbing my little sister's hands and dancing around her. She still looked hesitant, but at least she was smiling tentatively.

I had to share my joy with everyone!

I yanked open the door, stumbling into the empty corridor, and fairly leaped down the hallway. I didn't know why I'd spend the last few days isolated; I was alive, and that was reason enough to be overjoyed! I skipped down the flights of stairs, bypassing several shocked first years, and burst through the double doors leading into the dining hall.

I was going to seize the day and feast! After all, every day warranted a glorious consumption of sweet, wonderful food!

I careened through the room, pausing by the Ravenclaw table to yank the horror-stricken, shrinking Jasper from his stack of books. Sweet, clever Jasper. He suffered from the same problem I had - he was far too withdrawn. He was missing out on the beauty of life!

The Ravenclaw was staring at me with concern, his dark eyes wide beneath his lowered brows, and I laughed again. How had I not noticed his beauty before? No wonder Lucy had winked at him - he was beautiful! I gazed around the silent room, fairly fluttering with pleasure. In fact, everyone was beautiful.

I was struck by a sudden thought; I would have to hug every single one of them. It was the only way to begin to express my joy at being alive!

I pulled Jasper into a tight hug, grinning when I felt him pat me hesitantly on the back. I hugged three more Ravenclaws before spinning away, finding myself standing eagerly before the Gryffindor table.

Oh, Gryffindors! I loved Gryffindors! They were so...alive!

Spying Head Girl - Lily! - I dashed eagerly towards her, my arms outstretched -

Four Gryffindors immediately stood before them, their wands raised menacingly. The one to James's right - Remus - bore a cold expression that looked distractingly out of place on his finely wrought face.

Still, I made no move to alter my course, and I saw Peter's mouth forming a spell, probably a cheering spell, I thought kindly -

"WAIT!"

I turned, still running, to see my beloved sister running towards me, her face an exaggerated mask of panic.

Maybe she wanted another hug - well, that was no problem! I had more than enough hugs for everyone! I turned swiftly, running towards my lovely, sweet sister -

Lucy, casting a panicked, assessing glance around the room, set her jaw and, rearing back, punched me squarely in the face.

I fell to the ground, tears welling to my eyes.

"THAT WILL TEACH YOU TO STEAL MY DATE!" she bellowed loudly, standing over my prone form.

I didn't feel quite so...happy anymore. In fact, the pain from my right eye was thoroughly dissipating any joy I'd previously felt. I pouted - poo, that was a pity.

"MAYBE NEXT TIME YOU'LL RESPECT MY SPELLWORK; I BET YOU DIDN'T LIKE THAT BEFUDDLEMENT CHARM, HUH? I HOPE YOU REMEMBER THIS LESSON!" Lucy continued.

Now that the potion's effects were fading, I could see her plan. Merlin, it was smart; I had no idea how she'd thought of it so quickly. With her quick thinking, I had a chance at surviving this encounter. I let my eyes flutter shut, pressing my face against the sticky floor. Dear Merlin. Dear, bloody, wretched Merlin. Okay, so Euphoria #2 could still use some work.

I rarely blushed. In fact, I could count the number of times I'd ever blushed on one hand. I had my dark complexion to thank for that. But now? Now I was convinced I was bright red, probably even the colour of a ripened tomato.

I pressed my face into the ground, wishing desperately to disappear.

Above me, Lucy was starting to embrace the part. "AND MAYBE NOW YOU WON'T SNOOP INTO MY ROOM AND STEAL MY STUFF! NOT EVERYTHING IS YOURS FOR THE TAKING!"

She spat, the spittle landing dangerously close to my nose.

Then she paused, stooping down to yank my hair.

"Er, sorry about the spit - got a bit carried away there," she whispered sheepishly into my ear before straightening.

"No, really?" I hissed. She had the nerve to pat my head, and I groaned. I was never going to hear the end of this.

"SO THERE!" she finished. "REMEMBER THIS - LUCY THORNE'S BEFUDDLEMENT CHARM IS NOT SOMETHING YOU WANT TO RISK RECEIVING!"

And...fin.

So ended Lucy's theatrical debut and so began my eternal humiliation.

After that delightful incident, I hid in the Room again, even skipping my classes (not that it made much difference, given my abysmal marks). I couldn't face anyone. Although Lucy assured me that everyone she'd spoken to had believed the act ("They were tripping over in their haste to please me!"), I wasn't entirely convinced. Besides, the events of the night played on endless loop in my head.

I threw myself once more into my work.

I convinced Lucy to fill an empty cauldron with the water, which she'd only reluctantly done after much loud complaining (and after a promise of several chocolate frogs). The effort, however, proved futile; the water quickly became useless if it sat unused for more than three minutes and twenty seconds.

After several failed experiments with regular water from the tap, I concluded that my original hypothesis was correct. It needed to be water straight from the wand.

Although Lucy argued heavily against it, I began experimenting once more with Euphoria #2. Despite the admittedly...intense effects, I knew that I had a potential winner. Who didn't want to feel alive, to feel joy in its purest form? I just needed to figure out the correct ratio of potion to the witchwater, which I'd shortened to "WW" in my experiment log, to dampen the effects slightly.

So, under the watchful supervision of Lucy (and with the door securely locked), I ingested vial after vial of Euphoria #2.

To my great frustration, I couldn't find the correct ratio. Adding 100g of WW resulted in a potion that, while providing a surge of confidence and pure emotional energy, also left the drinker reckless and dangerously uninhibited. Adding 99g of WW resulted in a mellow cloud of contentment that only resulted in laziness. If I tried increasing the percentage of WW, the potion's effects immediately rocketed to the frighteningly potent characteristics of the original Euphoria #2. In other words, Euphoria #2 was either a passive sedative, a reckless liberator, or a dangerous emotional steroid. Of the three options, I deemed the middle the lesser of several evils.

The multiple trials required Lucy's presence, which meant a sizable portion of my profits went to buying chocolate frogs (why were the darn things so expensive? Not only was the base price excessively high, but I also had to pay some sixth year in Gryffindor an extra fee to get them; he apparently had some source that he refused to name).

Still, all this would be worth it once the product hit the markets. I stared at the softly glowing, pale yellow vial in my hand before slipping it carefully into my pocket. "Euphoria #2" didn't describe it quite as well anymore, but I'd grown rather fond of the name. After chugging these vials down nonstop for almost forty-eight hours, I could safely say that I was completely and utterly sick of feeling happy.

That was probably a blessing in disguise; I couldn't imagine I'd have much cause for happiness in the upcoming days. As I'd embraced my inner coward and refused to leave the Room, I still had yet to encounter my House. That conversation ought to be interesting; I'd humiliated all of Slytherin in front of the whole school. Worse, I'd been seemingly crushed by a Hufflepuff - worse, a Hufflepuff two years younger than I.

I couldn't hide forever. The Room, as amazing as it was, couldn't provide food, so I'd been living off whatever scraps Lucy could smuggle in. She'd put an end to that today ("I'm not your house elf!"), so it looked like today was as good a day as any to brave the outside.

I surveyed the rows of finished product situated at the far end of the room, my mouth a grim line. I'd have to pick my weapons carefully. I grabbed the small vial of Million Meter Walk I'd brewed yesterday (this was my first time brewing the fatigue-inducing potion since its development back in third year; I rarely brewed it because a) there was very low demand for a potion that made you instantly exhausted and b) a full-sized cauldron only produced one small, single-use vial) and tucked it into my pocket. Then, after considering the rows once more, I added a vial of Passion Plume. The emotion-enhancing potion was a risk; it would either aid my plan or incite all of Slytherin to bury me.

Despite my large robe pockets, the vials still clinked conspicuously against each other. I would have to walk carefully to avoid crashing into something and breaking the bottles - I had no wish to repeat the Babbling Beverage incident. I made a mental reminder to check up on Jasper's progress with the transportable pellets. A memory, brief and brutal, flashed through my mind, and I flinched. Merlin, poor Jasper; I'd practically strangled him in front of the whole school. Okay, modified mental reminder: 1) apologise profusely before 2) asking about the pellets.

I'd officially depleted a good portion of my stock, and my ingredient supply was running dangerously low as well. I'd have to go to Potions class soon to replenish my stock. I glanced at the ornate clock bolted to the wall. It was nearing the end of breakfast time, which meant that few students would be in the Common Room. At least I wouldn't have to face everyone at once - mob mentality was bloody terrifying.

Steeling my courage, I left the Room and descended the stairs.

I paused outside the unassuming stone wall, whispered, "Blood before water." The stone wall slid open with a grating rumble, revealing the dark corridor leading to the Common Room.

I shook out my shoulders, lifted my chin, and strode confidently into the dimly lit room, ignoring the stares and whispers.

I'd almost made it to the stairs leading to my dormitory when a burly fifth year blocked my path. I didn't recognise him, which meant he wasn't a customer.

"You've disgraced the House. The Hufflepuffs have been lording it over us for days now - Hufflepuffs!" he said angrily.

I stared at him coldly. He was a good fifteen centimeters taller than I was, but I wasn't infamous for my frigid exterior for nothing.

Still, he didn't back down; as a Slytherin, he was used to intimidation tactics. We engaged in major power plays as soon as we passed the stone wall, sometimes even before we even reached Hogwarts. Slytherin was a dangerous home, full of pitfalls, yet the very nature of the peril meant everyone shared a bond formed on respect.

Excuses would get me nowhere. Instead, I said, "Ah, but it gives us a chance to put Gryffindor down for good."

I spotted Lestrange lounging in a nearby chair, his dark eyes intent on our conversation. I swallowed; I couldn't risk the enmity of the Death Eaters.

Burly crossed his arms, his muscles bulging. "How so?" he demanded, some of his prior hostility vanished. After all, mentioning Gryffindor was a sure way to unite Slytherins.

"Hufflepuff is high on their victory now. These emotions, the cheering of the school-"

"It's humiliating," Burly interjected.

I inclined my head before saying loudly, addressing the whole Common Room, which had fallen silent, "Are we not Slytherins? Are we not patient? We do not depend on instant gratification - we are not Gryffindors. No, we wait in the shadows, carefully nudging the dominoes one by one until they all. Fall. Down."

I hadn't been hexed yet, which was a good sign. Casually slipping my hand in my pocket, I uncorked the scarlet vial of Passion Plume. The hazy scarlet mist billowed out from my pocket, unnoticed in the dim green light of the Common Room. This was either going to work very, very well or end very, very poorly.

"How will they fall?" Burly asked roughly. I could see the potion had reached him; his dark eyes were fervent, thirsty for blood -

I smiled.

"We will slip them my patented Euphoria #2," I said, withdrawing the yellow vial and thrusting my hand into the air, making sure the softly glowing contents were clearly displayed.

I noticed a gleam of interest in Lestrange's eye, and, feeling encouraged, I continued, "You have not seen this potion before. I have only just completed trial runs of it, and I am more than satisfied with it. Imbued with a secret ingredient, this potion inspires pure bliss."

"And why would we want to make the Hufflepuffs happier than they already are? It's sickening," came Valencia's sharp voice.

A murmur of assent spread through the crowd.

I shrugged. "The potion doesn't just make you happy. It's courage and recklessness and, well, euphoria all in one. It makes you feel that you can get away with anything, that you are the most powerful person in the world."

"Liquid luck," someone breathed.

"Without the tangible benefits," I said.

Valencia stared at the potion, a calculating expression in her eyes. "They'll think they can finally usurp us," she said slowly.

I nodded. "This beauty will incite them to attack. We will be ready, of course, for any trifle they try to throw our way...but we will continue the pattern I've begun. We will exaggerate our suffering."

I turned, making sure to make eye contact with as many people as I could.

"Why would we do that?" piped a first year.

"They become the bullies. The House structure is flipped on its head, and we will begin to sow the first seeds of dissension within their ranks. The annoying moral Ravenclaws who previously refused to ally themselves with us will be more willing to grant aid to the victims while the Hufflepuffs we do not target will turn against their own House. Even some Gryffindors will surely hesitate to attack us, if only for fear of ruining their heroic reputation. After all, it isn't very honourable to attack someone while they're already down."

My thoughts flashed to one particular noble Gryffindor, and my stomach soured. "After all, you all know how infuriatingly honourable some Gryffindors can be. They'll have no choice but to think twice about allowing such blatant bullying."

Silence fell thickly.

"I've already laid the first stone. You all saw the...altercation with my sister. She, a seemingly innocent, harmless Hufflepuff, accosted a Slytherin in plain sight," I said. In revealing the truth behind my altercation, I was running the risk that they'd use that knowledge against me, but it was a gamble I had to take. Luckily, no one hexed me.

"You would have us act as weaklings," Burly said finally, but his eyes were thoughtful.

"Our prior tactics were getting us nowhere; we were stuck in a never-ending struggle. Now, at least, we have a chance at changing things," I argued. Plus, if the three Houses began thinking more kindly of Slytherin, I could expand my consumer base.

"And what happens at the end?" called a low, haughty voice. Everyone looked, as one, towards Lestrange, who untangled himself neatly from the couch. He stood lazily, approaching our huddle with oily ease.

"We stab them all in the back, of course," I said simply, allowing my lips to curve into a vicious smile.

Lestrange studied me for a long moment. "We will try this plan for two months," he said. "If it fails…"

I swallowed thickly; I knew what would happen next. "With all due respect, Lestrange, this plan is a long-term strategy. A month is insufficient."

He arched a dark brow, and I held my breath, feeling sweat drip down my back. "Alright," he conceded finally. "Three months."

Three months was hardly enough time to subvert hundreds of years' worth of reputation, but, judging by the look in Lestrange's eyes, he wasn't about to budge. I nodded stiffly, and he smiled coldly.

He turned to face the crowd and, raising his wand in the air, shouted, "To Slytherin!"

"To Slytherin!" the room echoed.