Willy opened his book to the correct page and quickly scanned the ingredients.
"Something wrong?" queried Amadé, who had begun grinding lemon seeds.
Willy frowned. "I don't know who wrote this book. They haven't a single ounce of imagination. I mean, look at this!"
He was throwing things into his cauldron as he spoke, stirring energetically as he did. "No mention chili dust, no mention of Chuddelleaf extract- you'd think they wanted us to get this wrong! Never mind, there is no way their recipe going to work."
He shut his book with a decisive thud and pulled out a small sack from his bag.
"Powdered Fleur de Loomp," he explained to Amadé, who was, along with most of the class, looking at him as if he'd gone mad. "I never go anywhere without it. Hurry up, Amadé, the class is over in twenty minutes."
"Willy," Amadé groaned. "What are you doing?"
Willy hummed away happily as he upended the sack into his caldron, sending up a whoof of bright pink smoke that smelled of wet leaves. The potion turned pale lavender, simmering and swirling gently.
"The book says the potion should be muddy yellow," Amadé moaned. "We're going to have the worst potion in the class! Willy, can't you follow instructions?"
"Not really," Willy replied absently, dipping a finger into the potion and licking it thoughtfully. He stirred a few times. "Pass me the essence of Trippelu tongue, would you?"
"Five minutes!" called Slughorn.
Willy stirred feverishly. "No, no, no, no- what's missing? Amadé, help me think!"
Amadé sighed heavily. "The book says the potion should be sky blue."
"Well," Willy exploded, "it's NOT!"
And with that, he shoved back his chair, leaned over, undid the laces of his shoe, threw the shoe over his shoulder, yanked off his sock, and dropped it into the potion.
"Ow!" exclaimed the one the shoe had hit.
"Two minutes!" called Slughorn.
Willy fell to mixing again, humming contentedly. "Amadé, those fifty points are as good as ours."
Amadé moaned.
"And time's... up!" called Slughorn. "Right then, let's see what you all have for me. Hmmm... well done, Mirant, but not quite... my goodness, Tuskan, you're quite heavy-handed with syrup of hellebore, aren't you?... Good try, Poyl, but you ought to have mixed a few more times after adding hoopo egg- it's all right, lad, you'll do better next time... and- my goodness, Wonka, Zascal, what have you done here?"
"We're really sorry, sir," Amadé muttered, red-faced.
Slughorn clapped his hands, beaming so brightly his smile almost touched his ears. "What for? This is the best Bulbaceous Beverage I have ever seen in all my years of teaching! Willy, Amadé, to give you only fifty points would be an insult to this masterpiece! Take seventy five points each for this work of art! Well done, lads, well done, well done indeed!"
A round of applause from the Slytherins rang through the dungeon. Beaming, Willy stood up and bowed.
