Chapter Ten: The Ultimate Potion

Mungo and Duncan came away from the Dueling Club with their core beliefs shattered into small pieces. The Boy-Who-Lived, Potter, who had defeated You-Know-Who, had displayed a Dark power.

The first thing that Mungo did in a spare moment was look up Potter's family in the archives, the same source he had read upon Malfoy's, Erebus', and Morrigan's family histories. Mungo came away assured.

"You know, I thought I was the researcher." Duncan pointed out when Mungo came back into the Common Room. "Why didn't I go?"

"Because I'm the main character and I deserve to know more than you."

((Author's note: Just fooling around. Here's the real script:

Mungo pondered.

"I really doon't know. But ye can do th' reseachin' from here on in. It hurts me eyes." Mungo replied.

"Okay." Duncan said, mollified. Then he remembered the main issue.

"Did you find anything on Potter?"

"Aye. Every single member of the Potter family that went to this school was in Gryffindor, with some fluctuations to Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff. But noot one single Slytherin." Mungo replied.

"But Potter spoke Parseltongue. Only really evil wizards have that ability, and only a few of them. And the basilisk is a giant snake, so Potter should be able to talk to it." Duncan pointed out.

Mungo thought some more.

"But why would Potter want to attack a cat and a first year, in his own house! It doosn't make sense."

Duncan fixed Mungo with a steely eye. Well, for all means and purposes it was MEANT to be a steely eye, but it looked more as if he got some kind of face contorting disease.

"Mungo. We need to tell a teacher. This is important." Duncan said seriously.

"WE CAN'T! Doon't ye think I haven't considered it!" Mungo shouted, snapping. Then he realized that the Hufflepuff common room was a very quiet place.

Mungo thought quickly.

"Doon't ye think I haven't considered writin' to me parents?" Mungo said. The rest of the room turned back to their own discussions about Potter, most centering on a chap called Justin.

Duncan nodded, understanding.

"Did you write to your parents?" Duncan asked.

"Noo, noot yet. I wrote t'them a while ago, but they haven't replied yet." Mungo said.

Duncan sighed, and put his head in his hands.

"It's just so hard… Knowing what we do, and not being able to tell anyone."

"I knoo, lad. I knoo." Mungo said.

"If only we could find out who's behind it. Who has power enough to control a basilisk and give it specific commands, and hates Muggle-borns?"

Mungo thought. But didn't think much.

"I've doon too much thinkin' todee, let's jes' goo t'sleep." Mungo groaned.

Mungo and Duncan walked past the other chatting Hufflepuffs, and every other word seemed to be "Potter", "Parseltongue," or "Chamber."

Mungo and Duncan spent the next few weeks keeping as far away from the areas that had been attacked by the basilisk as possible. So far, they knew that it only Petrified, but neither of them wanted to be Petrified if they could help it.

"I wonder if they'll remember that the basilisk attacked them." Duncan mused as they headed for Herbology one day, somewhere in November.

"More importantly, they might remember who was in charge of the basilisk." Mungo replied.

They approached the greenhouses, and Mungo felt a cold, numbness that usually filled him when a: eating fish, b: going over water, and c: going to Herbology. Mungo wondered dully what kind of plant he would watch Duncan take care of today.

When they entered, Professor Sprout put herself at the furthest end of the table. The last time Mungo had asked Duncan if he could have a go, the plant combusted, staining several people nearby with an acrid black smoke.

"Sit down, over there, dears." Professor Sprout said agitatedly.

After the lesson, which turned out to be about the properties of various kinds of fertilizer, to Mungo's chagrin, Professor Sprout turned them outside. However, when Mungo exited, she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll need you for a moment, Mr. Gorsson." She said.

After the rest of the class had gone out, she handed him a sheaf of parchment.

"You realize that you are currently banned from touching any plants in these greenhouses?" Professor Sprout said bluntly.

"Yes…" Mungo sighed. She hadn't officially said so, but Mungo knew he was.

"And that if you continue at this rate, you will fail in the class of your own house?"

"Yes, ma'am." Actually, Mungo had never though of it as the class of Hufflepuff House. New revelation.

"Well, I know you don't have any talent in Herbology. It's a block. However, as Head of your house, I can't help but feel sorry for you. Therefore, I'm going to give you a chance to get outside credit for Herbology, for services to the teacher."

"Really, ma'am?"

"Yes. As you must know, I have to make a Mandrake Restorative Draught. Professor Snape has agreed, thankfully, to do most of the Potions making. However, he is extremely over tasked, with being a teacher, Potions Master, and Head of his House. Therefore, he has no time to do a time-taking part of the potion. He once remarked that you were fairly well-off in Potions, which from him is a glowing tribute. So I decided to ask you." Professor Sprout started, and said, "Excuse me." She quickly hurried off to tend to a plant that had suddenly started shooting seeds into the air.

Mungo was overjoyed. He was going to get to do something he really enjoyed, and for a good cause, and for full credit in Herbology. It seemed too good to be true.

Then Mungo looked at the papers he had in his hands. The first page alone was solely on how to prepare the cauldron!

He shuffled through the papers. Every sheet was written on both sides, with complicated instructions on every single stage of the potion!

"Professor Sprout!" Mungo said, aghast.

"Eh? What?" She said. She came away from the plant, which was apparently appeased in whatever odd need it required.

"I doon't think I can do this! Some o' th' ingredients aren't even in the students cupboard! Let aloon in the first-years'!" Mungo said, hardly believing the complicatedness of the Restorative Draught. "And I have t' keep th' potion at a precise temperature for three whole days!"

"That's easy enough to do, with a proper Inflammatory Charm." Professor Sprout stated. "Besides, I'm sure you will do fine. Professor Snape practically said you were a genius."

"But-" Mungo protested, but Professor Sprout raised her hand.

"Mr. Gorsson. The school will refund you for whatever ingredients you will need to acquire. You will find most of them in the students cupboards, and Snape has agreed to let you have access to all of them, even above your year."

Mungo was stunned. The notion of being able to use anything from the student's cabinet, even the seventh-years, was to Mungo as if he had received fifty genie lamps.

"Okee…" Mungo breathed.

"I'm sure you have the patience and knowledge to do this. Remember, those poor children in the Hospital Wing will be relying on you." Professor Sprout said kindly, showing Mungo out the door.

Mungo stood outside, wondering how he could have felt so awful coming to Herbology that day. Life was smiling on him indeed…

Mungo came back up to the school barely in time for Charms. They were reviewing the Wingardium Leviosa charm again, as most of the class was still having difficulties in grasping it, with the sole exception of Duncan.

After the classes and dinner, Mungo told Duncan his good fortune at being chosen to do this. Duncan was shocked.

"Davey Jones' Locker! Do you realize how long this is going to take to make?" Duncan shuffled through the papers, scanning them. He finally set the papers down.

"It will take two months, if you devoted every ounce of your waking time to brewing it. And you've got classes and everything!"

"I'll find a way. I might spend less time eating, or take me food with me when I goo t' work on it."

"But you have to get the root of a Romanian Longhorn dragon horn! The whole ones are Class B Non-Tradable Material!"

"No, it says base of the Erumpent horn, right here, see?" Mungo pointed out with his finger.

Duncan shook his head. He absentmindedly stooped and picked up some other student's cat that he had befriended.

"Professor Sprout's gone mad, anyway." Duncan said darkly as he tickled the cat's ears.

"Well, tha's a nice thing to see aboot th' Head of yer House." Mungo replied. "And ye took more of those ginger cookie-things she gave oot than anyone, remember, when th' Hufflepuff team beat Ravenclaw."

"I did not! It just looked like more because… They were smaller!" Duncan protested.

Mungo grinned. He had diverted Duncan's attention from pestering him about the potion.

"Aye. Well, I need t'goo an' get the ingredients, an' get started." Mungo said. Before Duncan could divest himself of the cat, who had fallen asleep and was kneading his robes, Mungo walked to the tunnel and went soaring out of sight.

Mungo walked through the castle, when he suddenly realized that it was getting dark.

"Well, I can't goo back noo. Snape's probably still aweek. I hope." Mungo said to himself. He saw a torch set in the wall down the hallway. Mungo walked over to it and set his hand on it.

"Well, well, well, what do you think YOU'RE doing?" Filch's voice said. A firm hand grasped Mungo's collar and turned him forcibly about.

"Mr. Gorsson, I presume?" Filch said nastily. "Walkin' about at night, are you?"

"Noo, sir, it was light when I went oot-"

"Silence! It's night now anyway."

"I was gooin' t' Professor Snape," Mungo protested, but Filch hauled Mungo away.

"Quiet! Lord, I wish flogging was still legal…"

Filch dragged Mungo through the corridors to his office. There were a wide variety of different unpleasant, pain-inducing instruments.

"That scourge there was my father's." Filch said nastily. "Must have flogged about a hundred students before he retired."

Mungo gulped, and Filch forced him into a moth-eaten chair. Filch circled around to his desk, and took out a sheet of paper and a quill.

"Mungo… Gorsson… Sneaking out of bed…"

"I wasn't sneaking, or you would never ha' seen me!" Mungo protested. Then he realized that he had said the wrong words. Filch looked up at Mungo with a malicious smile.

"So, you've been out before, eh? When?" Filch asked sharply.

Mungo had to think quick, but he couldn't. His brain froze.

"Err…" Mungo started, but there was a knock on Filch's door.

"Who is it?" Filch asked. There was a weird squelching sound, and then the high-pitched cackling of Peeves.

"PEEVES!" Filch roared. He leapt right over the desk and ran out the door before Mungo could even turn around to look out the door.

Mungo heard a loud crashing, and the longest stream of swearing that Mungo had ever heard. He ran to the door, and saw Filch lying on the floor, getting awful boils all over.

"He spilled bubotuber pus all over the floor! Hours of cleaning!" Filch explained. He tried to get up, but he slipped again. Mungo suddenly felt a surge of pity for the caretaker, who was covered in large, painful boils. Mungo held out his hand.

Filch looked at the hand in surprise, then with suspicion. He clasped it, and Mungo helped Filch to his feet.

"Well, get off to bed with you. I'll… I'll finish your report later." Filch said uncomfortably. He left Mungo and started walking off to the Hospital Wing, Peeves completely forgotten.

Mungo couldn't believe his good fortune. He had escaped detention, and didn't even have any points taken off. Plus, he could go on to Professor Snape.

Mungo corrected himself. He couldn't go see Professor Snape now, because the teacher was probably asleep. Mungo decided it would be best if he went back to bed.

Mungo arrived back in the Hufflepuff common room to see that Duncan had stayed up. Duncan looked at Mungo with a disapproving expression.

"Did you get the stuff?" Duncan asked.

"Noo, I was apprehended by Filch." Mungo said. "But I didn' get anything, Peeves distracted him and he sent me on me way."

"Well, you lucked out then." Duncan said. Mungo nodded, and headed up to bed.

The next day Mungo started to get down to the task of making the potion. It was not the main Mandrake Restorative, it was just a catalyst. But it was still very tricky.

Mungo went down to the dungeons to confront Snape about the complicated ingredients. Snape didn't remark about anything, and showed Mungo to his private cupboard. He only spoke one thing,

"Take only what you need. If you take any more, be assured I will know."

Mungo was rather affronted that Snape thought that he would steal anything, but kept silent while he gathered what he needed.

Throughout the rest of the day, Mungo ran up to the common room every time there was a break between classes. He added ingredients and tended the fire, making sure that it stayed at the right temperature. When Mungo didn't need to do that, he copied the instructions that he had gotten from Professor Sprout, in case he lost the original.

It was during one of these sessions, maybe three days after he started, that Mungo finally got the reply to his letter that he had sent all that time ago. The owl came to the window of the common room, instead of the Great Hall, for some reason. Perplexed, Mungo took the letter and sent the owl on its way.

Mungo could tell that the letter was a long one, as the envelope was very thick. It was sealed with wax, and looked very serious.

"Tha's odd," Mungo said as he opened the letter. He started reading, after sitting at a sofa.

Dear Mungo,

We're all sorry that this letter took such a long time to reply to your letter. It involved quite a lot of research, and we even had to travel to America. The Muggle planes are quite miserable, we assure you. But that didn't daunt us.

As you remember, you cast a spell that you did not know existed. We didn't know anything about it, so we wrote to several of our family, even Great-Uncle Herman, you know, the Muggle psychiatrist. And, surprisingly, only Great-Uncle Herman had an answer. He said you have a case of ancestral memory. He said that it is theorized amongst Muggle circles, that animals and humans sometimes inherit memories from their ancestors, and they call it ancestral memory. We all thought it was rot, but we looked up our family history anyway. Turns out that an ancestor of yours, on Bungo's side of the family, was a famous duelist who used Transfiguration as his main weapon. His name was Sir Frederick of Lochmaree. You might indeed have ancestral memory from him, and you may even have a weak portion from your grandfather, or your great-great-great-great-grandfather, who you got your hat from and also had great talent in potions. Ironically, Sir Frederick and William Aldridge (your great-great-great-great-grandfather) were bitter rivals.

But we got a warning from Uncle Herman as well. He said that in Muggles, ancestral memory could lead to some kinds of brain disease, or even madness. He doesn't know what the risks might be with wizards, but he recommended that if you feel like you're having de ja vu about something you never did before, you should try to refrain. We think this would be a good suggestion.

We wish you our best, and will send you something nice for Christmas, if you decide to stay during the holidays.

Love,

Mom and Dad.

Mungo folded the letter, and stared at the stained glass window. Ancestral memory. This was… interesting.

What if his skill in potions WAS related to ancestral memory? Would he give up his ability, to avoid the risk of madness? And transfiguration… Would he have to give that up too?

Mungo suddenly heard the potion begin to sputter fitfully. Without thinking, Mungo adroitly added the proper ingredients, and stirred it until the bluish water calmed down.

And therein Mungo had his answer. He would not suppress his talents. Petrified students in the Hospital Wing were counting on him. He would lose the respect of both Snape and McGonagall, two people who Mungo admired. No, Mungo would not repress ancestral memory.

Mungo didn't tell Duncan about the letter. Mungo didn't really know what Duncan's reaction would be, but Mungo trusted that it would be along the lines of his parents.

Mungo soon forgot about it. He had mentally put it in the back of his mind, stored for future reference. Soon, he almost even forgot about the basilisk, so absorbed was he in his work on the potion and in his classes.

However, he was soon brought to remembrance sharply and rudely one day when word spread through the Hufflepuff common room that Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy who everyone said Potter had threatened, had gotten Petrified just the night before. This deeply shocked Mungo, as the basilisk had gotten a Hufflepuff. He had never thought that Hufflepuffs were safe, but it still came as a shock when his house got such a blow. This dedication lent even more strength to his efforts to the potion, which was now bright red. It had once been a point of discussion in the common room, what those first-years were doing, but soon it became as much a part of the scenery as the black and yellow tapestries and banners.

Mungo made a special visit to the hospital wing one day, accompanied by Duncan and some other Hufflepuffs and Professor Sprout. Most of them gathered around Justin, but Mungo and Duncan visited Crookshanks and Colin Creevey, as Mungo learned was the boy's name. Duncan laid a ball of yarn and a catnip toy next to Crookshanks, due to his affection for cats, and Mungo hung a bright yellow and red banner over Creevey's bed. He had a yellow and black banner for Justin too, but he had to wait until all the other Hufflepuffs had cleared out to put it up.

It was only then that Mungo realized that not there were four Petrified people in the room. There was also a ghost.

Mungo beckoned to Duncan, and they clustered around the bed. It was Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Mungo knew him, because Nearly-Headless Nick had once guided him to Charms when Mungo and Duncan lost their way early in the term.

Nearly-Headless Nick was a smoky opaque, making him look rather like he was made out of marble. Mungo reached out his hand, and touched Nearly-Headless Nick's arm. It was freezing cold, and had the density of light cotton.

"Let's goo Duncan. Out of hearing o' th' others." Mungo said. They went outside the hospital wing, and Mungo started talking.

"I doon't think the basilisk is weak any more. It managed to Petrify a ghost. If it was weak, Nick wouldn' be Petrified. Th' basilisk must be killing, and it Petrified Nick because he is already dead." Mungo explained.

Duncan pondered.

"You know what we should do? What we should have done in the first place."

Mungo groaned exasperatedly.

"Hoo many times have we been over this? We can't tell a teacher!"

"I wasn't talking about that, Mungo. We should have read about basilisks in the library!" Duncan said.

"Oh." Mungo said, mollified.

Duncan smiled with superiority, and continued,

"I'm going to go to the common room, to get stuff for taking notes. Then I'm going to the library. I'll see you later."

"All righ,'" Mungo agreed. Duncan rushed off, and then Mungo remembered that he needed to tend his potion right now.

Mungo started running to the common room, but when he was running down a corridor he saw someone that he really didn't need to see at that moment.

It was Erebus, the Slytherin. He had his wand out, and was smiling.

"Hello, Gorsson." He said icily. "I believe we have a score to settle."

"As do I." A voice said behind him. Mungo turned around and saw Morrigan.

"Look lads, I really doon't have time fer this, I really need t' git oon." Mungo pleaded. He really, really needed to get to his potion, or all of his efforts would be wasted.

"As if we had time to get the boils off of our faces." Erebus said. They started closing in. Mungo's blood boiled suddenly. His wand was in his hands, and he said.

"Ye jus' try it, lads. I really need t' git oon. We'll settle this later." Mungo said.

"We'll settle it now! Eiecto!" Erebus shouted, swirling his wand. A beam of light shot out of his wand, and slammed Mungo in the gut, sending him flying past Morrigan.

However, Mungo managed to keep his breath long enough to shout one spell as he went flying. He could only hope his aim would be good.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

It missed Erebus, but it hit Morrigan. Morrigan's shoes suddenly went flying into the air, turning Morrigan upside-down and making him fall painfully.

Mungo by now had landed, almost the same time as Morrigan landed. Mungo's breath was knocked out from him, and it felt like he was bruised in several places. He tried to recover his breath, gasping for it.

"What's going on?" A voice said. It was the black-haired girl that had Silenced Morrigan at the Quidditch match. Mungo hurriedly scrambled to his feet, finding his breath and his balance.

"I'm bein' attacked!" Mungo said, pointing his wand at his assailants. "Those two!"

The girl came around the corner, whipping out her wand, and saw Erebus helping Morrigan stand up.

"I really need t' git past them, t' get t' a potion that will git completely ruined if I doon't! The Petrified students are depending on it!" Mungo appealed. The girl nodded, and raised her wand.

"At least one of them is Slytherin, right?" She asked.

"Aye," Mungo said.

"Enough for me."

Erebus and Morrigan had collected themselves, and were raising their wands. Mungo suddenly had an idea.

"We're gooin' t' break right through their formation. Run right at them, yell yer head off. Then we'll jes' goo right pas' them." Mungo said, and then started running as fast as he could at Erebus and Morrigan. He could only trust that the girl would understand.

"FLEE! FLEE!" Mungo roared as he ran. Beside him, he could hear the girl shouting something as well. So she understood the tactic, excellent.

Erebus and Morrigan were completely unnerved at the sight of apparently two lunatics charging at them like some kind of stampede. They dodged to one side, and Mungo and the girl ran right past them to the end of the corridor.

"Follow me!" Mungo said, and started running to the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. He could hear the girl running behind him, but no sound of pursuit from Erebus or Morrigan.

Finally, after getting a dreadful stitch, Mungo raised his hand and staggered to a halt. He panted for a bit, and turned to the girl.

"Thank ye… kindly…" He said, gasping for breath.

"No problem… Neoni Victrine." The girl held out her hand.

"Mungo Gorsson." Mungo said, offering his hand back. But then he swiftly retracted it.

"Erm, sorry, me hand's all sweaty." He explained.

"Oh, right. Well, that was a good run. Can't say I ever ran so fast." Neoni said.

"I'm sorry I brought ye into this. Should ha' jus' been between me an' them." Mungo said, suddenly feeling guilty for asking a stranger to get involved in his conflicts.

"Well, just as well you did. You probably would have been an unpleasant mixture of a toad and a gerbil by now. Or bashed into an even worse mess." Neoni suggested.

At the word 'mixture,' Mungo suddenly remembered about his potion, still awaiting his attention.

"My sainted aunt! I have t' goo, t' take care of a dreadfully important potion. Erm, I'll see ye later." Mungo said.

"All right. Er, good-bye." Neoni said, walking down the corridor. Mungo turned the other way, and ran with what little energy he had left back to the Hufflepuff common room.

He arrived just in time to stop a thin, purple steam from filling up the room. Mungo waved the steam out the window with a bit of paper, and sat down by the potion, adding ingredients. This was the final stage of the potion, and if he messed up now, he would have to start all over again. That is, if Professor Sprout gave him another chance, with he doubted. He could almost picture Snape's disappointment as he said,

"I should have known it would have failed. Hufflepuffs should not attempt that which they cannot overcome."

Fuelled by this image, Mungo almost completely mangled the daisy roots that he was carefully slicing. He calmed himself down, and resumed his work at a normal pace.

After preparing the final ingredients, Mungo waited, spoon poised. If any sign of movement showed, Mungo had to stir the potion immediately.

"Hey, Mungo." Duncan's voice called from the entrance hole. Mungo turned his head and hissed,

"Quiet! It's in th' las' stages noo. I need t' concentrate."

"Oh, right." Duncan said, edging away and placing the books that he was carrying on another table.

Mungo turned his attention back to the potion. Hours seemed to pass, but it was only really ten minutes. Finally, Mungo leapt into the air with a yell of ecstasy.

"YES! It is finished! I did it, Duncan, I did it!" Mungo shouted, throwing tsome spare parchment into the air.

Duncan raised an eyebrow.

"I thought it was supposed to take two months?" Duncan asked.

"It does, but it just sits and ferments for the last month. But I did it, Duncan!" Mungo said triumphantly.

"Indeed. Forgive me if I sound unenthusiastic, but I just really need to get reading." Duncan said, before secluding himself into that special state of absorption that he got when he started seriously studying. Mungo saw it often during History of Magic class.

Mungo stretched in a congratulatory fashion, and then remembered about his encounter with Erebus and Morrigan.

"I say, I've completely forgotten. I had another conflict with those two, remember, Erebus and Morrigan?" Mungo said.

"Mmhmm." Duncan said noncommittally. Mungo decided now wasn't the time to tell Duncan about the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw.

"Never mind. I'm gooin' t' take th' potion t' a safe place, an' then goo t' bed." Mungo said. He put on his dragon hide gloves, and carefully picked up the potion. He walked cautiously up the stairs to the dormitory, and set it next to the window next to his bed. He looked outside and saw Hagrid, the gamekeeper, trudging along the grounds with a dead rooster. Mungo dismissed him from his mind, and went to bed.

That night he had a very curious dream. He dreamt about two men in antique uniforms, one in a yellow and red kilt. They had their wands out in a dueling style, and were obviously loathing each other.

But the image dissolved to form into two bright yellow, glaring eyes. A bright flash of scarlet flew past the eyes, and Mungo heard a horrible, screeching hiss. A book appeared briefly, with a fang embedded in the cover, and then he dreamt no more.

The next morning he didn't remember anything unusual.

The weeks passed by, and Mungo came down with an awful cold. He sat most of the days in front of the fire most days, wrapped in his cloak and cloaks that charitable Hufflepuffs had lent him. He had to leap to catch his glasses every time he sneezed so they wouldn't go flying into the fireplace.

Mungo could not wait until Christmas, though he waited for it with a kind of dull expectation because of his cold. He sent forms for presents for Duncan and his parents, and even arranged to send a package to Neoni Victrine, in gratitude for her aid. He had signed up to stay at Hogwarts, as he really dreaded the long train trip to London, and then back up to Scotland, and then all the way down again when the term started again.

Mungo was limping towards the History of Magic classroom one day, on Christmas Eve, to retrieve a book that he had left because he forgot it in the dull of state of mind that people get into when they get ill. He had turned a corridor on the third floor when he saw Potter and Weasley go furtively into a girl's bathroom. Mungo almost dismissed it, but then he remembered that they weren't supposed to be in there.

Mungo hid himself behind a statue, and waited. His book was banished from his mind, in a single-stated determination to find out what those two boys were doing.

He stood there for quite a while, until Weasley and Potter exited, followed, surprisingly, by Granger. Mungo waited until they had gone far out of sight, and then coughed a while. He then blearily entered the bathroom.

It was really dingy, but the large pillar of sinks made an interesting architectural feature. Mungo walked around it, and saw a cauldron.

Curiosity was immediately sparked. After pausing to blow his nose again, Mungo examined it closely. It looked quite a lot like mud.

Mungo scratched his head a bit, trying to find out what it could be. He sniffed it, and then it struck him.

"Oh, it's a Polyjuice Potion." Mungo determined. Then he started, and examined it again.

"But tha's illegal…" Mungo muttered.

"WILL YOU PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!" A girl's voice shouted behind him. Mungo leapt about three feet into the air, glasses flying through the air and landing with a clatter several feet away. He violated Duncan's copyright and said,

"Davey Jones' Locker!"

He turned around, and saw a large, pearly white object that appeared to be some kind of girl.

"Why can't you people just leave me to be in my misery by myself!" She screamed into Mungo's face.

Mungo was nonplused. He held up his hand, and said,

"Hoold oon, I wan' t' git me glasses." Without waiting for an answer, Mungo dove and grabbed his glasses and put them on.

The ghost came into view clearly now. IT was a girl, in Hogwarts robes and pigtails with glasses.

"Tha's better."

"You're not even allowed in here!" The ghost accused, pointing a finger.

Mungo decided he might get into trouble if he didn't do something soon. He sneezed, and said,

"Well, ye let them in here." Mungo gestured to the potion. The ghost looked at it and burst into tears.

"They just burst in here, disturbing me and making my death even more miserable." The girl said, sobbing through her tears. Mungo patted the air where her shoulder was uncomfortably.

"There, there. Why are ye miserable?" Mungo asked, trying to calm her down.

"BECAUSE I'M MISERABLE, MOPING, MOANING MYRTLE!" She yelled, and then flew shrieking into a stall. Mungo heard splashes, and decided it would probably be best if he left.

He did so expediently, wondering why Potter and his friends were making a Polyjuice Potion. But it was soon driven out of his mind by a sudden fit of coughing, that left him hacking all the way to the Hufflepuff common room (the forgotten book, for all Mungo's means and purposes at the moment, ceased to exist.)

((Author's Note: Ancestral Memory does not actually work the way I have described it. It actually has to do with certain personality patterns that might have been inherited from when we were still whacking each other with wooden sticks, and we thought fire was the best thing since intelligent thought. It is quite a lot further than four generations. However, for the purposes of this story, it works as I have described it.))

((Author's Post-Note: Hoots! A long chapter. This should keep you busy for a while, whilst I try to write the next one. The plot thickeneth!))