Chapter 59: The Half-Blood Prince
September 2, 2003
The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows as Buffy and Willow joined Harry, Dawn, Hermione, Ron and Ginny for breakfast.
"But he can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures!" Hermione said, looking distressed. "I mean, when has any of us expressed… you know… any enthusiasm?"
"That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'you reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?"
Buffy and Willow looked at the five students wondering if any of them would answer. None of them did.
Buffy noticed Dumbledore wave to her. She got up and went up to the staff table.
"Student class schedules," he said as he handed her the Gryffindor class schedules.
Buffy went down the Gryffindor table distributing the class schedules. It was a little different than last year for her. She had to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.
Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without further ado.
Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as Buffy looked down his application and then consulted his O.W.L. results.
"Herbology, fine," she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations.' But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Neville, but Professor McGonagall has a left a note that thinks that Acceptable' isn't good enough to continue to N.E.W.T level."
Neville hung his head.
"I'll be right back, Neville," Buffy said as she headed back to the staff table. "Minerva, will you not reconsider letting Neville in?"
"I'm afraid not, Buffy," McGonagall said. "I never had the impression that he particularly enjoyed it. Can I see his O.W.L. scores?" Buffy handed her the paperwork. "I see that he has an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charms, however. Suggest he try for a N.E.W.T. in Charms?"
Buffy nodded as she went back to Neville. "I'm sorry, Neville. She won't let you in. She does recommend that you try for a N.E.W.T. in Charms."
"My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option," mumbled Neville.
Buffy sighed as she waved at McGonagall who came from the staff table and whispered in her ear.
"Mr. Longbottom, take Charms," said McGonagall, "and I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless."
"Thank you, Minerva," Buffy said as McGonagall returned to the staff table. She tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.
Buffy turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination.
"He and Professor Trelawney are dividing classes between them this year," said Buffy. "The sixth year is being taken by Professor Trelawney."
Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.
"So, Harry, Dawn," Buffy said as she turned to her siblings. "With Professor Slughorn taking over Potions you now have the scores required to continue in Potions if you two would like that is."
"I'll take it, then," Dawn said.
"As will I," Harry added. "But we didn't get anything for potions, remember?"
"As far as ingredients go," Buffy said. "Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some for now till Dawn and I can portal to Diagon Alley." She handed both Harry and Dawn their schedules. "By the way Harry, I happened to notice this morning that at least twenty students put their names down for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall get you the list in a day or two so you can schedule the tryouts."
"Is Dawn's name on the list?" Harry asked.
"Of course," Buffy said as she smiled at her sister. "So is Ginny's. And I think we should continue what we started last year with the replacements."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Dawn, Harry and Ron met Hermione outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"We got so much homework for Runes," Hermione said anxiously. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"
"Shame," yawned Ron.
"You wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."
The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor. "Inside," he said.
Dawn, Ron, Harry and Hermione stepped into the classroom. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures that Snape had hung on the walls.
"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."
His eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Dawn and Harry's than anyone else's.
"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced."
Snape set off around the edge of the room. "The Dark Arts," he said, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."
"Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" —he indicated a few of them as he swept past— "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" —he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony— "feel the Dementor's Kiss"—a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall— "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" —a bloody mass upon the ground.
"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati Patil in a high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"
"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well—Miss Granger?"
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Hermione, "which gives you a split-second advantage."
"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively, "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spellcasting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some" —his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry and Dawn once more— "lack."
Dawn and Harry glanced at each other knowing that he was talking about them.
"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."
Dawn's hand shot up as Snape looked toward her. "Yes, Miss Potter?"
"Wand or Wiccan?" Dawn asked with a smirk.
"I think for your fellow classmates that you should stick to wand," replied Snape.
Although Snape did not know it, Buffy with Dawn and Willow's help had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm, both wand and Wiccan, the previous year. None of them had ever cast either without speaking, however, including Dawn.
Ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word. He swept between them as they practiced.
Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Dawn, was purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Dawn had her wand raised, waiting.
"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while. "Here—let me show you—"
He turned his wand on Dawn so fast that she reacted instinctively, "Kali, Hera, Kronos, Thonic. Air like nectar, thick as onyx. Cassiel, by your second star, Hold mine victim as in tar!"
The spell was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.
"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter? And that you will perform only wand magic?"
"Do you remember I am not only a witch but a Slayer?" said Dawn stiffly.
"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Snape. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter… not even a Slayer."
"Not how Buffy tells it," Dawn said as she picked up her things. She waved her hand and a portal opened up right in front of her. She waved and stepped through it before it closed behind her.
"That was brilliant, Dawn!" chortled Ron, once he, Harry and Hermione had joined her for lunch.
"You really shouldn't have said it," said Hermione, frowning at Ron. "What made you?"
"He tried to jinx Dawn; in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry. "I don't know about Dawn but I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn't he use another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defense? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them!"
"Harry! Hey, Harry!"
They looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward Harry holding a roll of parchment.
"For you," panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"
"I'm not sure yet," said Harry. "I'll let you know."
"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend—"
But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. "Dawn," he said.
Dawn looked over and saw the writing. "Where is Buffy and Willow?"
"Guidance Counselor office maybe?" Harry suggested.
Dawn nodded and opened a portal, they stepped through and found Willow alone.
"Dawn, Harry," Willow said surprised to see them there.
Harry held up the parchment. "Where's Buffy? I think this is from Dumbledore about the lessons."
"Probably in her classroom," answered Willow.
They rushed out of the office and down the hall and into Buffy's classroom. They found Buffy sitting at the desk going over quizzes she had given out to her first class of the day. She looked up at the sound of the door closing.
"Harry, Will, Dawn," Buffy said as Harry handed her the parchment. She looked at it and she too recognized the writing. She unrolled the parchment and read it aloud:
Dear Buffy, Willow, Harry and Dawn,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday.
Kindly come along to my office at 8 p.m.
I hope you all are enjoying your first day back.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
"
"I have a problem," Dawn said when Buffy was finished. "I can't go. Snape gave me a detention for this Saturday."
Buffy sighed. "I know, he personally came and told me. I think he was rubbing it in. That said I think Albus' lesson will take precedence. I'll make sure though."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
When Harry, Dawn, Ron and Hermione arrived in the corridor outside the Potions classroom they saw that there were only a thirteen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff.
The dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Dawn, Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.
The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Dawn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws and Dawn, Harry, Ron and Hermione had a table to themselves. The Ravenclaw student was the odd man out sitting by himself.
"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…"
"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.
"Harry, m'boy?"
"I haven't got a book or scales or anything—nor have Dawn or Ron—we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T.s, you see—"
"Ah, yes, Professor Potter did mention… not to worry, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts…"
"Professor, Buffy intends to have me portal her to Diagon Alley when we get a chance so we can pick up everything ourselves." Dawn said.
"Good, that's good," said Slughorn as he strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with three very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Dawn, Harry and Ron along with three sets of tarnished scales.
"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?" He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table.
Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.
"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione.
"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too… Who can—?"
Hermione's hand was fastest once more.
"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.
"That's the mudlike one wasn't it," Dawn whispered to Harry who nodded.
"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here… yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.
"It's Amortentia!"
"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"
"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.
"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and—"
Hermione turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.
When Dawn had smelled the potion, she had found that to her the potion had smelled like Ginny's perfume.
"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.
"Hermione Granger, sir."
"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"
"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."
"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you both spoke, Dawn? Harry?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry and Dawn.
"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.
Hermione turned to Dawn and Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you both really tell him I'm the best in the year?
"We did," Dawn said.
"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron. "You are the best in the year—I'd've told him so if he'd asked me!"
Hermione smiled but made a "shhing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying.
"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room—oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love…"
"And now," said Slughorn, "it is time for us to start work."
"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.
"Oho," said Slughorn again. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"
"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"
The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighten up.
"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed… at least until the effects wear off."
"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.
"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know… highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally…"
"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.
"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days." He gazed dreamily into the distance.
"And that," said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."
There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.
"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.
"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions… sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So, the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only… and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!
"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"
There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible.
Dawn bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent her. To her annoyance she saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Dawn hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what she needed.
Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing; this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest.
Having finished chopping her roots, Dawn bent low over her book again.
It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction:
Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.
The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Dawn turned to Hermione. "Can I borrow your silver knife?"
Hermione nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.
Dawn crushed her bean with the flat side of the dagger. To her astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice she was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron she saw, to her surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.
Her annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Dawn now squinted at the next line of instructions. According to the book, she had to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner had made, however, she ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice?
Dawn stirred counterclockwise, held her breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.
"How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione, who was red-faced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.
"Add a clockwise stir—"
"No, no, the book says counterclockwise!" she snapped.
Dawn shrugged and continued what she was doing. Seven stirs counterclockwise, one clockwise, pause… seven stirs counterclockwise, one stir clockwise…
Dawn looked at her brother and noticed that Harry had started following the directions in her book. His potion wasn't at the same point as hers since he had been following his book for a portion before seeing how well her potion was doing.
Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice.
"And time's… up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"
Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Dawn, Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron. He gave both Hermione and Harry an approving nod. Then he saw Dawn's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.
"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Dawn! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are—one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"
Dawn slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into her inner pocket.
"How did you do that?" Ron whispered as they left the dungeon.
"Got lucky, I suppose," said Dawn, because Malfoy was within earshot.
Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, Dawn started explaining about the book and the notations. She was glad Buffy and Willow had yet to join them for dinner as they would have likely chastised her.
Hermione's face became stonier with every word Dawn uttered.
"You probably think I cheated?" asked Dawn.
"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" Hermione said stiffly.
"Dawn only followed different instructions to ours," said Ron. "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But she took a risk and it paid off." He heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but—"
"Hang on," said a voice close by Dawn's left ear and she caught a sudden waft of the flowery smell of Ginny's perfume. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Dawn?"
Dawn looked at her girlfriend and she saw that Ginny looked alarmed and angry.
Harry knew what was on Ginny's mind at once. "It's nothing," he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."
"But Dawn's doing what it says?" Ginny said as she looked toward her girlfriend worriedly.
"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny—" Dawn said trying to sooth her girlfriend.
"Ginny's got a point," said Hermione, perking up at once. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?"
Dawn looked at Ginny and saw the worried look on Ginny's face. "Go ahead, Hermione," she said. "I don't want you to worry, Ginny."
"I know," Ginny said as she smiled at Dawn.
Hermione pulled Dawn's copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of Dawn's bag and raised her wand. "Specialis Revelio!" she said, rapping it smartly on the front cover.
Nothing whatsoever happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.
"It seems all right," said Hermione, still staring at the book suspiciously. "I mean, it really does seem to be… just a textbook."
Dawn looked at Ginny who nodded. She held out her hand and Hermione went to place the book in it. But it slipped from her hand and landed open on the floor. She bent low to retrieve the book, and as she did so, she saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him her bottle of Felix Felicis.
This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.
