Chapter 2
"Look at this: I can't believe Malfoy!" Hermione muttered, aghast, as the trio walked to their double potions class one afternoon, a few weeks into first term, "He's just taken fifty points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and twenty-five from Hufflepuff!"
"Why take less from Hufflepuff?" Ron asked, missing the point entirely.
"I thought you said he could only take up to twenty-five, Hermione?" Harry asked as they turned the last corner.
"In one go, yes. It doesn't stop him taking another twenty-five! Oh, and there go the other twenty-five for Hufflepuff: he must have run out of reasons for a moment."
"Didn't Dumbledore say you couldn't show favouritism?" Harry said soothingly, "He said he was monitoring your notebooks so that you couldn't cheat."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Why don't you take points from Malfoy?" Ron suggested, chewing a bread roll he had brought with him from lunch, "I'm sure I can give you plenty of reason to take the maximum from him."
"I'm sure you could," Hermione smiled, "but it doesn't work like that. For one thing: Malfoy would actually have to be here and therefore hear what it was he was losing points for, which would only make him ten times worse. For another you have to say the reason as well as the number of points and I just can't do that."
"What!" Harry and Ron cried in unison.
"It's not that I don't want to insult Malfoy," Hermione explained hurriedly, "It's that I literally can't. It's all in Hogwarts: A History. As soon as the Head Boy and Girl are given their duties by the headmaster, they are automatically placed under an enchantment that prevents them insulting one another. It's so that, whether the Head Boy and Girl like or loathe each other, they present a united front to any visitors to the school. There are a few other things as well, but mainly it means that I can't insult Malfoy, directly, and he can't insult me. Haven't you noticed: all his insults have been directed at you two, Neville and Ginny. Ever since he and I were given our duties."
"Well, you've insulted him!" Ron replied.
"No, you have," Hermione explained patiently, "I've just agreed with you. You can get round it in some ways, but it prevents Malfoy and I having a major screaming match in a corridor just as the new Minister for Magic or somebody walks past!"
"Dare I ask how far behind we are in points now?" Harry cut in as they reached the queue for Potions.
Hermione flicked the book open to the back pages once more.
"Hey, look at this!" she exclaimed, "Slytherin have gone down by a hundred points!"
"What?" Ron replied, peering at the book over her shoulder, "How?"
"It must be the anti-cheating thing Dumbledore was talking about," Harry muttered, "Who's this?"
Hermione and Ron looked up to find a tall, wiry man, walking towards them, dressed in a professor's robes. He had shortish, wavy hair that looked as if it couldn't make up it's mind what shade of grey it was turning and a slight bald patch that could easily be seen as he walked with his headbent forward, looking at the ground, as if deep in thought, or perhaps just checking to make sure it was still there. When he reached the door of the potions classroom, he stopped, turned a sharp right angle and walked into the classroom, straight through the door. The queue, which had fallen suddenly silent, stared at the still closed door in confusion. A moment later the door opened.
"Oh, sorry," said the unknown professor, quite as if nothing more unusual had happened than forgetting to cross a T or dot an I, "Keep forgetting about that. Do come in."
Still rather bemused, the class filed in. As they did so, Malfoy sauntered up and followed the last of the stragglers inside. Hermione glared at him. He smirked back at her.
"Now," the new professor began as the class took their seats, "today we shall be making a potion that is very much a favourite of mine. The ingredients are very simple and easily found in nature, this being one of the oldest potions known to wizardkind. What you must take care with here, you see, is not the ingredients, but the method. An important part of this potion is concentration. You must be entirely focussed on your aim or the potion itself will pick up on it and if it doesn't think you're paying it enough attention, it will sulk and refuse to work."
This speech provoked more than a few confused looks. After all, who had ever heard of a potion sulking?
"Before we begin, let me tell you a little about the history of this potion. It is from this potion that both Veritaserum and Polyjuice Potion were discovered. This potion is often used as an aid to Occlumency. It is also often used by those in the teaching profession to help them understand their pupils, however I do not believe it is used here at Hogwarts. Indeed, it is not necessary in the case of the current Headmaster, although I believe his one or two of his predecessors have occasionally used it to help decide how to settle arguments between students and, occasionally, staff."
"Oh, I know what he's talking about!" Hermione gasped quietly.
"You would!" Ron muttered, looking utterly confused.
"The potion I am referring to, of course," the professor continued, "is the Empathebrius Elixir. A single draught of this will give you a clear insight into the feelings and emotions of your fellow students, and everyone else for that matter. Effects last for up to one hour, depending upon the latent ability of the drinker. Natural empaths are rare, but Professor Dumbledore assures me there are no others in the school at this time, so we should be quite safe to test these potions ourselves. We shall complete the following today:"
The professor tapped the board with his wand and a series of instructions appeared. The class stared at them blankly, looking more than a little shell-shocked.
"Well, come on then," the professor urged them, "haven't got all day you know!"
"Please sir," Lavender Brown's hand rose into the air, "Who are you? Where's Professor Snape?"
"And how did you walk through that door?" Dean Thomas added, neglecting to raise his own hand.
The professor blinked at them a couple of times through his thick glasses.
"Oh, didn't I introduce myself? Dear me. Well, let me do so now: I am Professor Prospero Proctor and I shall be filling in for Professor Snape for the foreseeable future. Professor Snape has been called away to a family emergency. Let me say now that if any one of you calls me Professor Proctor, you'll be losing points: Professor Prospero will do."
"But how did you walk through that door, Professor?" Dean Thomas asked again.
"Ah yes, the door," Professor Prospero pondered, "I keep forgetting about those things. Yes, well, I have spent most of my years researching new potions and one or two of them have had some rather odd side-effects, some of which have proved more permanent than others."
There was a rather nervous ripple of laughter across the classroom as students wondered what other 'side-effects' Professor Prospero might be suffering from. Whatever they were, none of them seemed to have dimmed his enthusiasm for his subject and the lesson passed far more entertainingly than had Professor Snape been present.
"He's mental!" Ron exclaimed in a decidedly appreciative tone of voice as they walked back up the corridor after class.
"He's certainly an improvement on Snape!" Harry muttered, who, for the first time in his life, had managed to get through a potions lesson without losing Gryffindor any points.
"He is rather reckless, though," commented Hermione, "Don't you think so? I mean, he wants us all to test these potions on ourselves when they're finished. What if somebody wasn't concentrating? And what if someone reacts oddly to their potion? And besides, do we really want everyone in the class knowing what we're feeling?"
"He did say we were only going to let them brew for a week," Harry replied, trying to sound nonchalant but looking slightly worried, "They get stronger over time, but we'll be testing them in their weakest stages, so we shouldn't be giving away that much."
"I don't know," Hermione shook her head, "I've read a lot about the Empathebrius Elixir. It's strength depends as much on the power and concentration of the person creating it as on the length of time they let it brew once it's finished."
"Well, that settles it then," Ron said cheerfully, putting his arm around Hermione's shoulders, "You can tell us everything you find out from everyone else once the effects have worn off!"
Hermione tried to laugh at this, but still looked slightly nervous. Harry did his best to conceal a fleeting look of terror by perusing the duties listed in Hermione's notebook.
Dinner in the Great Hall was the usual affair, but slightly quieter: Malfoy had taken to deducting points surreptitiously from the other houses for making too much noise. Hermione, however, was finding her own method of combating this. Every time a jeer erupted from the Slytherin table, she deducted twenty-five points for heckling whoever. Everytime there was a roar of laughter, she deducted twenty-five points for, as Malfoy had done to the other tables, making too much noise.
"Oh, come on!" Ron whispered as Gryffindor went down another ten points for Neville dropping his fork, "How is that fair? Goyle hasn't even figured out what his fork's for yet!"
"I'm just glad Fred and George aren't still here," Hermione replied in equally hushed tones, "Can you imagine the amount of points we'd lose with those two around? They'd see it as a challenge! Winner's the first house past the zero points mark!"
"Well the only difference is that they're not setting off they're tricks themselves now!" Ginny cut in, "You wouldn't believe the number of 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' products there are doing the rounds!"
"I would if my last birthday present is anything to go by!" Ron said, a little louder than he meant to; the score for Gryffindor dropped another ten, "I don't even know where you buy invisibility cloaks! The only ones I've ever seen already belonged to Harry and Mad-Eye Moody. I can't believe I've got my own one now."
"Yes, well, don't tell the world, will you," Hermione hissed, "Look that's another ten gone: that's twenty you've lost us so far!"
The following week passed in much the same manner. On the Friday they put the finishing touches to their Empathebrius Elixirs and set them aside, clearly labelled as always, to brew. The next day, Saturday, was the first Hogsmeade visit of the year and everyone was trying very hard not to lose their concentration as they mixed, strained and bottled their draughts.
Saturday dawned bright and clear, with a brisk autumnal breeze blowing the crisp scent of fallen leaves through the air, not to mention some of the leaves themselves. After a late breakfast and some time in the library doing homework under Hermione's watchful eye, the trio, Ginny, Neville and Luna headed off for Hogsmeade.
"I do hope it's not going to rain," said Luna vaguely, staring up at the cloudless sky.
"What makes you think it's going to rain?" Ron inquired, visibly perplexed.
"You can see the hills in the distance," Luna replied, pointing, "My father says that if you can see the hills, it's going to rain."
"And what if you can't see the hills?" Neville asked, also now glancing up at the clear sky.
"Then it's already raining."
Thankfully, it did not rain. Nor did it snow or hail or sleet. In fact, there was no precipitation of any kind and Hogsmeade remained as dry as a bone as long as they were there. Once in the village, of course, the group split up and went in different direction, agreeing to meet in the Three Broomsticks later. Ron headed off to Honeydukes. Neville and Ginny headed for Madame Puddifoots. Luna wandered down a side street, saying there was little shop there that she got her Quidditch hats from. Harry looked around blankly and headed off in another direction entirely.
"Are you okay?" Hermione called after him.
"Yeah, fine," Harry called back, "Just going to go for a... a walk. See you later."
Hermione nodded, but looked worried. Ever since the death of his godfather, Harry had become increasingly distant. His anger had buried itself in sullen quietude but occasionally burst forth if provoked. When that happened, even Hermione was scared. She turned to the shop beside her: she had told Ron she would meet him in Honeydukes, but had to buy some more parchment, ink and a new quill first. Pushing the door aside, she walked into the quiet shop and began looking at the quills on offer. She had thought the shop was empty, but, hearing a movement behind her turned, expecting to see the owner. Instead, on his own for once, was Malfoy, emerging from behind the parchment stand.