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Chapter 11

Even the hot shower didn't manage to ease Harry's nerves. He was no stranger to nightmares; after all, he had had quite a few of them in the past, back at the Dursleys'. The dream from the most recent night, however, was different. It was even more realistic than the one he had right before the Quidditch World Cup Finals. For the first time in his life, Harry experienced a dream with all his senses: he felt the cold of the rain on his skin, the damp clothes sticking to his body, and the wind messing his hair. He could taste the moisture and mold from Azkaban's corridors as well as the chilling temperature of the stone walls.

The worst, however, was the smell.

If someone asked Harry to summarize that with one word, he would say that Azkaban reeked of death. At least it did in his dream. Floor seven hundred seventy-seven, the three identical digits flew through his mind. He failed to keep his body from trembling as pieces of that dream reappeared in his memory. Each time he closed his eyes, Harry felt as if that flash of green light was rushing straight at him.

He stumbled down the doors connecting the Dormitories and the Common Room, gripping the wooden railing for support. His legs felt heavy and unsynchronized, and his entire body seemed strange to him as if he didn't suit his own skin. It also didn't help that his scar was bleeding when he rose from the bed. For the first time he could remember, his infamous mark actually reopened itself. Even when he fought against Voldemort in his first and second year, never has his scar bled before. But it did that night. The skin around it was red and swollen, aching with the slightest touch. Puss leaked out of the scar when Harry pressed it a little too hard, probing it.

He smiled weakly at a few of his Dormmates when they greeted him, though he failed to recognize anyone, even his year mates. In truth, he barely noticed them, but his subconsciousness took over him as he answered them as politely as he could.

"Hi, Harry. Rough night?" Neville called out to him, forcing Harry's attention to focus on his whereabouts. It took him a few seconds to recognize his shy Dormmate standing near a corkboard. Harry pulled his hair further onto his forehead, attempting to hide the angry swell of his scar.

"Hi," he muttered out. His voice was weak, and his throat was hoarse. He cleared it a few times. "You could say so," he mumbled, standing next to Neville. He didn't bother himself with trying to suppress a yawn. "Anything interesting?" Harry asked, gesturing at the noticeboard. It contained a few more pieces of parchment than he remembered, though his mind was unable to focus enough at that moment to make out anything written there.

"Just some clarifications about the Yule Ball," Neville replied, shrugging his shoulders before his eyes moved back to the noticeboard. "Professor McGonagall wrote that students from fourth-year up are required to attend it," he informed Harry, flinching noticeably. "The younger ones can go, only if they are invited by an older student, as a date. There's also the matter of returning to London for Christmas Break," he added; his voice cheered up almost instantly. "She wrote that the Hogwarts Express will take those who want to return for Christmas in the morning, right after the Ball. There are those regular formalities, of course. Filling the form and so on," he finished.

"Nothing really interesting, then," Harry commented. "You're going back for Christmas?"

Neville nodded his head quickly a couple of times. "Yeah. You?"

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head. "I guess I would have visited Ron's parents, but… you know what happened," he muttered. Neville nodded his head in understanding, biting his lower lip. "And I'd rather not see my Aunt and Uncle until absolutely necessary," he added in a whisper, not caring if the other boy heard him. "Did you get a date to the Ball already?"

"No," Neville replied with a nervous chuckle and a shake of his head. Harry sighed quietly in relief, glad that the other boy agreed to change the subject so quickly. "But that was predictable, wasn't it?" he asked with another nervous chuckle. Harry smiled weakly as the two of them headed towards the exit from the Gryffindor Tower.

"You've still got time," he commented, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"At least it is not required from me to have a date," Neville countered, forcing a groan out of Harry's lips. "Oh, come on, you've still got time," he repeated the other boy's words, chuckling slightly at Harry's tired face.

"Don't remind me," he mumbled out. "I have no idea what to do about the Egg, and it is crucial to get the clue for the next Task, and now I also must go with someone to that bloody Ball," Harry cursed as they descended towards the Great Hall for breakfast. "Not to mention that I don't know how to dance," he added.

"Well, you've done quite well against that dragon on Thursday, so how hard can a single Ball be?"

"Yeah, I'd rather take on that dragon again," Harry muttered, dropping down on his recently usual spot at the far end of the Gryffindor Table. Neville sat down right next to him, immediately filling his plate with various foods. Harry only grabbed a piece of toast; his appetite was practically nonexistent after the nightmare. However, he knew better than to attend double Potions with an empty stomach.

The thought of the incoming lessons forced him to turn around to scan the Slytherin Table in search of the familiar blonde. Daphne hadn't shown up in the Great Hall even once during the weekend, and the idea of going to Potions without his partner made Harry somewhat warry, especially since they were supposed to brew the Sleeping Draught that day. Even though he wrote down the instructions perfectly to the letter, he doubted if he would be able to make the elixir correctly on his own. He was more than sure that Snape would find a reason to lower his grade even if he brewed the Draught perfectly on his first try without messing anything up. Daphne's presence somewhat guaranteed that the Potions Master would hold back some of his remarks and wouldn't downgrade the mark for the sake of the member of his own House.

But Daphne still didn't emerge from the Dungeons. Harry would never admit it to anyone, but on the previous day, he was checking the Marauder's Map approximately every half an hour, only to see the Slytherin girl in the same spot, right next to Astoria Greengrass. Each time, Professors Snape and Sprout were there, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey. However, the three staff members were present at breakfast, but there was no sight of the two Slytherin girls. At least Daphne was nowhere to be seen, as Harry was more than certain, that he had no idea what the other girl looked like.

"Come on, or we'll be late," Neville brought him out of his musings. With a heavy sigh, Harry stood up from the bench and followed the blonde boy towards the Dungeons after making sure that the parchment with the instructions was safely hidden in his Potions book.

They arrived just in time to see Professor Snape ushering the students inside. Again, the only flash of blonde hair from the Slytherins belonged to Malfoy. Daphne wasn't there, further increasing his anxiety. As far as he remembered the infamous Slytherin Ice Queen never missed a single lesson.

Everyone took the spots with their assigned partners. Harry's and Daphne's table was at the back of the Potions Classroom, allowing him a good view of his Classmates. He watched as Neville greeted the dark-skinned boy, Blaise, with a nod of his head, returned by the Slytherin fourth-year, and the pair began preparing their workstation. Hermione was already browsing through a book that no doubt contained the instruction for the potion of her assignment; Crabbe was sitting on the chair, resting his head on his hand, clearly bored. Ron and Malfoy, as usual, refused to even look at one another; they were sitting as far away from each other as was physically possible.

Harry was preparing his workstation as well, pulling out the book that contained the parchment with instructions onto the table. His brain barely registered Snape's words as the Professor strode away from Ron's table after taking ten points from Gryffindor for 'slacking off.'

"Excuse me, Professor," Harry's mouth moved before he even managed to think about stopping himself as the Potions Master moved past his table. The young boy watched as, without seemingly moving a single muscle, the Head of the Slytherin House turned around slowly to face him; his expression was, as always, a mixture of boredom and indifference. "My partner is missing," he said, unsure what it was that he actually wanted to achieve with his words.

"A brilliant deduction, Potter," Snape replied; his arms were crossed behind his back, and his lips barely moved as he spoke as if talking to the young boy was beneath his dignity. Harry could swear that it was exactly what the Potions Master thought. "And?"

"We were supposed to brew this potion together," Harry replied.

"The Sleeping Draught, if I recall correctly from the written part of your assignment, is a potion taught in the first year," Snape countered immediately, though he stretched each word as if he was fighting against keeping them in his mouth. "And in the first year, it's not a group assignment. I thought you would be aware of it unless your part in figuring out the potion wasn't as significant as Ms. Greengrass led me to believe, Potter. So I would suggest you start brewing unless you want me to speak with other Professors that you're missing on basic knowledge and perhaps should be moved back a few years with your education," he said. He walked back to the front of the Classroom, not giving Harry even a single second to form a response. With a small sigh and a roll of his eyes, Harry approached the cupboard that contained his cauldron and grabbed a mortar, a pestle, and a ladle. With the four items in his hands, he returned to his table.

On the parchment, above the instructions, a list of ingredients was written down. Looking at it every few seconds, Harry gathered the necessary items and returned to his table after double-checking if he had the correct amounts of each ingredient. Satisfied, his eyes scanned the first line of the instructions.

Add four sprigs of Lavender to your mortar, he read; he moved his finger beneath the line to make sure that he read correctly. It took him a few seconds to tell the difference between the Lavender and the Valerian. To him, both plants looked almost identical, except for the color – they were purple and white, respectively. Only when he recalled a pendant Aunt Petunia used a few years earlier to keep the clothes moths away from the wardrobes did he manage to say which of the two plants he was supposed to start with. He would never be able to forget the awful odor that filled his cupboard when Aunt Petunia hanged the pendant in there.

Add two measures of Standard Ingredient to your mortar, he read after putting the Lavender in the wooden bowl. Using the ladle, Harry did just that, making sure not to scatter the dried herbs about. He really didn't want to give Snape a reason to assign him detention. Not that he needs one, he thought with a wry chuckle.

After that, he began grinding the herbs together with the pestle. The instruction indicated that it should be turned into a creamy paste. A small smile found its way onto his lips as the dried leaves let out a satisfying, crunching sound when he started crushing them with the pestle. After a few minutes, the crunching sound started disappearing, allowing a new, squelching sound to take its place. After another few minutes, Harry placed the mortar on the side, satisfied with his work. The mixture of herbs was fully turned into a creamy paste. So far so good, he congratulated himself.

Add two blobs of Flobberworm Mucus to your cauldron, he read, sighing heavily. There were many disgusting potions ingredients, and the Mucus was, most certainly, one of them. Compared to that, the Lavender was the nicest perfume he had ever encountered.

After taking in another sigh, Harry raised the flask containing the Mucus. He uncorked it carefully and held it low above the cauldron, making sure not to spill anything around. He knew from personal experience that the Flobberworm Mucus wasn't easy to get rid of from the wooden table. He flinched slightly when he heard Snape's booming voice that announced that his House had lost ten more points. He didn't bother himself with checking who was responsible for that. The fact that the Potions Master wasn't anywhere near him meant that it wasn't him, and that was enough for Harry to be somewhat satisfied.

Add two measures of Standard Ingredient to your cauldron, Harry read after successfully adding the Flobberworm Mucus and closing the flask. Gently heat for thirty seconds. He ignited the blowtorch that was standing directly below the cauldron, corrected the size of the flame, and set the timer before looking at the next line of instructions.

Step seven, he read. Seven. Floor seven hundred seventy-seven. Seven hundred seventy-seven, seven hundred seventy-seven… the digit reminded him of the dream. The number refused to leave his mind as Harry kept staring at the piece of parchment. At that moment, it seemed to him as if all the words of the instructions turned into that single digit. He hissed quietly as he felt his scar pulsing again. He raised his hand to touch his forehead, feeling a warm, sticky liquid on his fingers. The noise around him started increasing, though he wasn't even sure if he noticed it as the pain in his scar intensified as well.

"Add three measures of your crushed mixture to your cauldron," a voice beside him spoke suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. Harry blinked a few times in surprise as he noticed someone else's hand above the cauldron. "Wave the wand," the same voice whispered so as not to disturb others. His eyes traveled up the length of the person's arm, only to find Daphne Greengrass as the owner of both the limb and the voice. "And leave it to brew for twenty to thirty minutes," she said. "I'm sorry for being late, Professor," she spoke loudly enough for the Potions Master to hear her. "I was… occupied."

Harry's eyes traveled from his partner's face to the Head of the Slytherin House. After over three years of attending Hogwarts, he was more than sure that the Potions Master wouldn't remove a single point from his own House, no matter their trespassing, and therefore he wasn't surprised that Snape didn't comment on Daphne's late arrival with a single word. What surprised him, though, was the fact that his carefully maintained mask of boredom and indifference slipped for a split second. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't able to decipher the emotion, if that man was even capable of feeling them, that crossed his face. Instead, Snape simply nodded, acknowledging Daphne's apology and explanation.

"I'm glad to see you've done well so far without me," Daphne whispered, redirecting his attention from Snape back to herself. "I'm sorry for not informing you that I would be… late today, but something came up," she informed him, looking back at the cauldron. Their potion was slowly heating up, and small air bubbles were popping out of it every now and then. Her gaze turned back to him, and her eyes traveled to his forehead. "You're bleeding," she stated simply. Upon hearing her words, Harry wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his sweater, hissing slightly when he rubbed his scar with the coarse material.

"Happens," he muttered back as he scanned his partner. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Something's wrong?" he queried.

"Why do you ask?" she replied with a question of her own; her eyebrows were furrowed as well.

"You're not smirking," he stated, pointing at her face. After having grown so used to seeing it on her face each time he saw her, it was the first thing Harry noticed missing, although the difference was subtle. After all, the left corner of her lips was always raised no more than a few millimeters, but its absence was still noticeable, permanently demolishing Harry's previous thoughts about that being some kind of a flow on her face. Daphne's frown deepened before she forced the left corner of her lips upward. "And I've never seen you wearing make-up," he added after noticing another change in Daphne's appearance.

"Well, I've never seen your scar bleeding or swollen like that," she countered swiftly with a tone that reminded Harry why she was called the Ice Queen. "Besides, I think every girl is allowed to make herself pretty once in a while. I don't see how that's supposed to come as a surprise to you."

The timer announced the end of their thirty minutes break just before Harry could say something else. He watched as with swift but precise movements, Daphne added two measures of Standard Ingredients to the cauldron and increased the flame of the blowtorch to the maximum. Harry set the timer for one minute. When the device announced the end of the time, Daphne decreased the flame's size and added four Valerian Sprigs to the potion. Taking the ladle, she stirred it seven times, clockwise. Seven, he thought again. Floor seven hundred seventy-seven.

"We're done, Professor," Daphne announced loud enough for the Potions Master to hear her voice amidst the ruckus of the Classroom. A few students turned their heads to look at them with barely hidden jealousy as they were the first ones to complete their assignments. With quick steps, Snape approached their table.

"And how much of this was Potter's work?" he asked, assessing the effectiveness of their work. The potion had a dark purple color; according to the instructions, that was the expected result.

"He had completed the first half before I arrived," Daphne replied honestly. Snape raised one of his eyebrows at that.

"Put the potion in the flask, label it with your names and leave it at my desk. Clean up your workstation, and you are free to go," he ordered before turning around. "O," he added with his back turned at the two students.

Harry's eyebrows instantly soared high on his forehead, disappearing behind his hair. As far as he could remember, it was the first time he managed to score an 'O' for his work at Potions. However, he had no doubts that if he wasn't paired with Daphne, or with any other Slytherin, for that matter, his grade would have been much lower.

"Are you going to help me, Potter, or are you just going to stand there and do nothing?" she asked, once again bringing him out of his thoughts. He shook his head a few times before joining Daphne in cleaning up their table. A small part of their potion was already safely stored in the vial, and a piece of parchment with their names was attached to it. Harry turned off the blowtorch and started collecting the remnants of the ingredients.

"Did something happen to Astoria?" he asked with a voice low enough only for Daphne to hear him. With a corner of his eye. Harry noticed the girl's body seemingly freezing in one spot, momentarily forgetting about everything she was doing.

"What was that supposed to mean?" she whispered. If Harry thought that her tone was cold previously, then it was freezing at that moment. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I just asked."

"It was an oddly specific thing to ask, Potter," she countered with a hiss as her infamous icy gaze was directed at him. Unlike the first time she approached him, he didn't shiver. "So let me ask you again, what was that supposed to mean?"

Once again, Harry only shrugged, continuing to clean their table. Daphne huffed quietly at that and resumed her work as well. It wasn't long before the two were free to leave the Potions Classroom – they were the first ones to finish their assignments, and some of the students hadn't even started working on them.

Before Harry managed to leave the Dungeons, he found himself pulled inside one of the empty classrooms. If he recalled correctly, he's never had classes in that room. As he turned around towards the exit, he heard the door close and Daphne muttering a few spells. After a few seconds, her wand was pointed at his face.

"What was that supposed to mean?" she asked again with anger sipping out of her voice so clearly that Harry was certain she would start throwing hexes at him in a blink of an eye. Her permanent smirk was gone from her lips once again.

"It was just a question," he replied, reaching for his wand as well, though he wasn't sure if he would be quick enough to conjure a shield if she started throwing spells at him.

"Too specific question to ask, especially that I don't recall ever talking to you about my sister," she countered immediately; her eyes were casting daggers at him. If looks could kill, Harry was sure that he should have dropped dead at that moment. "Who told you that?"

"No one told me anything," he protested. He began wondering if it was a good decision to ask Daphne about Astoria.

"Then how the hell did you come up with that?!" she practically yelled at him. Harry glanced nervously at the door, expecting someone to barge in through it. "I assure you no one is coming," Daphne said as if she was able to read his thoughts. "I've made sure of that. So, if you don't answer my question at this very moment, no one is going to hear you screaming after I hex you into the next century! What was your question supposed to mean?!" she yelled again.

Harry sighed heavily. "No one told me anything about you or Astoria," he tried to assure her, only to receive a huff from Daphne. "I haven't heard a word about you, but… I've seen you," he muttered out.

Daphne's eyebrows furrowed as her mind processed his words.

"What do you mean that you've seen us?"

He sighed heavily again. "It will be easier if I just show you. I guess you would see it sooner or later either way," he added, turning his back on her, and moving towards one of the empty tables. He realized a split second too late that it might not have been his best idea to turn his back on the angry which, with her wand still pointed at him. After searching in his backpack for a few seconds, he pulled out the large piece of parchment.

"What is it?" Daphne asked impatiently. Harry smirked slightly, glad that she couldn't see his face. It was… odd to see the Ice Queen behaving like that.

"You wanted to see it the first time you've followed me into the Chamber," he reminded her, placing the parchment on the table. A low sound of footsteps behind him informed him that Daphne approached the table. "And it's much easier to show than explain," he added before pointing his wand at the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he spoke.

Daphne raised an eyebrow at that, somewhat expecting it to be some kind of a weird joke. She watched as Harry moved a few steps away from the table and indicated to her with his hand that she should take his place. Still keeping her wand pointed at him, Daphne approached the piece of parchment.

The previously blank pages slowly started filling in, first with letters, then full words. After a few seconds, those words began forming sentences in what she could only guess was Latin, and the sentences transformed into shapes. Her eyes widened as her gaze scanned the piece of parchment in front of her. If she was not mistaken, the shapes on the pages were the layout of Hogwarts.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Hogwarts," Harry stated simply, shrugging his shoulders as Daphne continued scanning the previously empty pages. She huffed at his response.

"I figured out as much," she countered. Her eyes widened even more as she noticed small shapes with nametags moving around the map. She recognized some of those names as those belonging to the students, while others belonged to the teachers. "What?"

"It's something that was created by my father and his friends when they were students," Harry informed her, approaching the Map again. "It shows not only Hogwarts, but everyone inside it with their current location," he explained before flipping a few pages until he reached the Dungeons. After a few seconds of searching, he placed his finger on one spot on the Map. "See? That is us here," he informed her. Daphne's eyes widened even more, if that was even possible, as she saw two dots next to each other and nametags that read 'Harry Potter' and 'Daphne Greengrass.' From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry taking a few steps backward. Instantly, the dot labeled with his name moved aside as well. "And there you have the Potions Classroom," he informed her, forcing her to look a few centimeters to the right. "Further down the hallway, you have the Slytherin Dorm," Harry said.

Daphne's eyes followed the dots that were her year mates who had left the Potions Classroom and were heading towards their Dormitories. "How?" she asked when she saw that the Map included even her Common Room.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea how," he replied honestly, scratching the back of his head. "My father and his friends needed it, so they've made it," he added with a small chuckle. "Anyway, when you didn't show up on Saturday, I thought something might have happened to you, so I… I looked for you on the Map," he whispered with a faint blush. "It took me some time, but I've managed to find you in the Girl Dormitories next to Astoria. Snape, Professor Sprout, and Madam Pomfrey were there as well. That's why I've asked if something happened to her," he muttered. "You know, the presence of your Head of the House, the Matron, and the Herbalist can make someone jump to such conclusions. Trust me - I've been enough times in the Hospital Wing to know that," he added with a nervous chuckle.

Daphne kept staring at the Map, for once unable to formulate a proper response. She couldn't decide if she was intrigued by the ingenuity of the idea that stood behind the Map, as well as its creation or if she should be furious that her privacy was invaded in such a brutal way.

"I haven't asked anyone about you or Astoria," Harry continued after a few minutes of silence. "I was surprised that you didn't show up on Saturday, and I must admit I was worried today when I didn't see you during breakfast," he said with another nervous chuckle. "You know, I didn't want to be forced to face Snape on my own."

"Your father has done it?" Daphne asked again, seemingly ignoring his recent words. Harry nodded his head, closing the Map.

"See this here?" he asked, pointing at four words on the piece of parchment. Daphne slowly nodded her head. "This is my father – Prongs," he informed her with a smile. "Padfoot is Sirius Black, Moony is Professor Lupin, and Wormtail is Peter Pettigrew."

Daphne raised her eyes to look at him. There was something odd in the way he said those names – the way Harry's tone shifted when he said the last name and the lack of any reaction as he spoke of the man who betrayed his parents. There was a sliver of something in Harry's eyes, but it was gone before she managed to decipher what it was.

"So, there you have it," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders once again. "That's why I've asked about Astoria."

"I hope you are aware that this breaches all basic rights of everyone's privacy," Daphne more stated than asked, finally regaining control of her voice. Harry chuckled again.

"I believe this was the basic idea behind the Map," he commented, shaking his head a few times. "It's just… it sort of turned into a habit for me to study it, I guess. You know, with the Tournament and all that," Harry added, unsure why he even said that. "For what it's worth, I didn't want to spy on you or your sister. I was just surprised when you didn't show up on Saturday," he explained, shrugging his shoulders once again.

Instead of answering, Daphne opened the Map again, flipping the pages until she reached the Dungeons. She stared at the dot with her name for a few seconds before moving away from the table, quickly noticing that the dot mimicked her movement.

"This is amazing," she commented in a whisper. Harry chuckled again. A few seconds later, Daphne groaned heavily, turning her head away from the Map.

"What?" Harry asked in confusion. Daphne pointed her finger at a specific spot on the parchment.

"Please, tell me this is not what I think it is," she almost begged. Following her hand with his eyes, Harry quickly saw what she was referring to.

In a small room, most probably a broom cupboard, the Map showed two dots with nametags that read 'Draco Malfoy' and 'Pansy Parkinson.' Harry laughed at that.

"Well, the Map never lies," he commented, earning himself another groan.

"I wonder how long Parkinson will be bragging about herself and Malfoy in the cupboard again," she commented. Harry laughed again. "What happened to your forehead?" Daphne asked, changing the topic. Her voice wasn't tainted with the same anger as before. "I wasn't lying earlier when I've said that I've never seen it bleeding before."

"I have no idea," Harry answered with a heavy sigh, rubbing the sore spot once again. Technically, it wasn't a lie, as he had no idea what caused it to bleed. "It never happened to me as far as I recall."

"Shouldn't you see Madam Pomfrey?"

"It is my greatest goal to avoid the Hospital Wing as much as I can," he replied with a small chuckle. "Besides, I'm not going to bother her with something as silly as the old wound reopening. I mean, it's only a little blood."

"Not only blood," Daphne countered, noticing the white liquid on Harry's forehead.

"I'm sure it will stop soon," Harry replied, wiping the scar with his sleeve. He hissed quietly as the coarse material irritated his skin once again. "Besides, I'm sure she has much more serious matters to attend to. You know, with your sister," he added hesitantly. Instantly, Daphne's smirk fell from her lips once again.

"Yeah," she agreed, turning her head to look at the Map once more. "I'm sorry for not letting you know about Saturday," she said after a moment of silence. "It just… it happened so fast that I had no time to think about anything else. We can go on this weekend if you still insist on repaying me for helping you win the First Task," she added; her smirk firmly returned to its usual spot.

"Sure. Same place, same time?"

"Why not?"

"See you around, then. Mischief Managed," Harry said, pointing his wand at the Map. It didn't take long for Hogwarts to disappear entirely from it. He grabbed the empty piece of parchment and headed towards the classroom's exit. "Umm…" he hesitated. "Could you take down whatever it is that you've placed on the door?"

That's it for today. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. In case you're wondering – I took the recipe for the Sleeping Draught from harrypotter fandom. There were two different recipes there – one that I've used and the second, more intricate one from 'Book of Potions.' However, I did some digging, and the Book of Potions wasn't something that appeared in Harry Potter books or movies. Also, I have no idea what 'Standard Ingredient' is XD. All I've managed to learn is that it's a combination of various dried herbs. As always, let me know in the comments below what were your thoughts and see you in the next update!