Potions

After lunch they went down to the dungeons to get to their first potions lessons.

''Nervous, Harry?'', Ron asked.

''I wouldn't know why'', he said calmly.

''Just saying'', Ron said. ''So completely lacking a certain, very helpful textbook...''

-''Ron, leave him'', Hermione said who was already reading Advanced Potions while they were going (page 39, Willoughby's Tincture).

''You're one to talk'', Ron grumbled. ''You've been complaining about that book for an entire year...''

Harry was quite sure that he saw Hermione smile before she snorted dismissively. When they reached Slughorn's dungeon, the door was already open.

''We're not late, are we?'', Hermione asked nervously and hurried inside, only to realise that the lesson hadn't started yet.

''Miss Granger'', Slughorn boomed and came over from behind his desk to shake her hand. ''Harry, m'boy! – and Mr Weasley, what a pleasure to have you back!''

-''Thanks, professor'', Ron said surprisedly and shook Slughorn's hand while Malfoy and Nott pretended to vomit into their cauldrons behind their teacher's back.

''Welcome to the club, Ron'', Harry said after they had taken their seats.

Ron didn't answer, because their classmates started to laugh loudly at that moment, as Ernie Macmillian entered the dungeon. Ernie's face reddened even further and he sat down at their table.

''Does it still hurt, Ernie?'', Hermione asked shyly.

He shook his head. ''No, I'm fine. It's just the, er, colour.''

-''How long will you be, you know, like this?'', Ron asked grinning.

''Sprout reckons it'll be normal in a couple of days'', Ernie sighed. ''Till then, I look like a walking Gryffindor banner.''

-''Hey, Macmillan'', Nott hissed from the next table. ''How was your holiday?''

Before Ernie could reply, Slughorn shut the dungeon's door and cleared his throat.

''Well, I must say, I'm glad you're all back – it was quite a small group last term. Of course, many of you will be out of practice-''

-Hermione nervously chewed on her lip and Harry and Ron shared a wide grin-

''- so we must bring you back in shape quickly. That's why today, we'll do something new, but resembling some potions you've already brewed – the Smoking Draught. Who can tell me – but our Miss Granger can, naturally!''

-''The-Smoking-Potion-is-one-of-the-most-frequently-used-potions-against-all-kinds-of-infections'', Hermine rattled down.

''Completely right, as always!'', Slughorn boomed and Hermione turned slightly red. ''Ten points to Gryffindor!''

Slughorn moved over to the blackboard and hit his wand against it, so that the ingredients and procedure appeared.

''For all of you who don't yet have a new book'', Slughorn said. ''All the others can find the recipe on page 325. Well, what are you waiting for? Let's brew!''

Harry turned to page 325 and stared at the recipe in his brand-new, not scribbled textbook.

''Any tips?'', Ron asked innocently.

''Yes'', Harry said. ''Shut up.''

Ron grinned and opened his own book.

It's not that bad, Harry thought a little later, after he had added the first ingredients to his cauldron. He could actually see what Slughorn had meant: the Smoking Draught was new, but many of the steps resembled another potion, though he wasn't sure which one.

''Zwickhart's Destillate'', Hermione mumbled as she noticed Harry's expression. He nodded relieved. Zwickhart's Destillate, that did ring a bell. He suddenly had a, in this dungeon rather rare, flash of inspiration, as he remembered what Snape had written down on this potion: don't cut bluesheepseeds, but add them as they are.

''Harry? Are you all right?'', Hermione asked nervously and he realised that he'd been staring at her for a full minute.

''Er, yeah'', he said and shook his head. ''Sorry.''

He added the seeds unter her shocked look and the potion immediately turned as pale pink as it should.

''How...?'', she moaned in disbelief.

Harry whistled happily.

''Amazing, Harry!'', Slughorn boomed at the end of the lesson. ''Excellent! Twenty points to Gryffindor, and well deserved! It seems that you haven't forgotten anything!''

''How in the name of Merlin's most slaggy unicorn sock did you manage that?'', Ron asked when they went to dinner (Ron's own potion had ended as a bright green, pulsating sirup at the bottom of his cauldron).

''What were you thinking, not to cut the seeds?'', Hermione asked just as shocked as Ron.

''Well'', Harry said grandly. ''That's the independent spirit a great brewer needs.''

Ron looked at him rather disgusted.

''Okay, okay, I remembered what Snape had written about Zwickhart's Destillate'', he said hastily.

Surprisingly, there was neither a disgusted snort, nor a sharp comment from Hermione. Instead, she merely nodded.

''What?'', Harry asked confusedly. ''No telling-off? No moral indignation?''

-''Well, you used what you already learned, and that's what Slughorn wanted'', she said shrugging.

''Besides, she's not in the position to tell anybody off today, after stealing that broomstick.''

-''I'd completely forgotten'', Hermione moaned and stared at the broomstick-turned-umbrella in her right hand.

''You have'', Ron said grinning and pointed towards the entrance hall. ''But he hasn't.''

They followed his pointed finger and saw Argus Filch, the caretaker, who stood next to the entrance door and looked around in a mixture of confusion and anger.

''Oh, no'', Hermione whispered horrified. ''I completely forgot to put it back.''

-''Transfigure it back'', Harry mumbled.

''In the middle of the entrance hall?'', Hermione asked. ''Could it be any more obvious?''

-''He's not going to notice'', Harry hissed. ''Look at him!''

-''WHERE'S MY BROOMSTICK?!'', Filch thundered at two third-years who were entering from the grounds and stopped dead when they were confronted with the furious caretaker and his hissing cat. ''I've been cleaning and sweeping this place all summer – do you have any idea how it looked like here? And now you come here and steal my broomstick-''

-''Do it, Hermione'', Ron mumbled. ''Before he murders them.''

-''Metamorphum'', Hermione whispered and when Harry looked at her, the umbrella was once again a broomstick.

''Give it here'', Ron said, took it and marched over towards Filch, who had by now covered the poor third-years with a huge amount of spittle.

''-IT WAS REDUCED, SUCH A GOOD OFFER, I'LL NEVER FIND ANOTHER ONE LIKE IT-''

-''Mr Filch?'', Ron asked calmly and the caretaker spun around and stared at him. ''Is this maybe your broomstick? It was back there, next to the hour glasses.''

Filch stared at Ron and the broomstick for a long minute, then he snorted, took his tool and stormed off, followed by Mrs Norris who shot a sharp glance at Hermione.

''Nice show, Ron'', Harry said grinning. ''You've found two new followers, I think.''

The two third-years stared at Ron in awe.

''Come on now'', Hermione sighed and went to the Great Hall. ''I'm starving.''

-''I'd hoped for a bit more gratitude'', Ron grinned.

''My knight in shining armour'', she said rolling her eyes.