Chapter 9
The Half-Blood Princess
KIARA
Chrissie and I met Chris and Sian in the common room before breakfast next morning. Hoping for some support for my theory, I lost no time in telling Chris and Sian what I had overheard on the Dragon Mort Subs.
"But she was obviously showing off for Parker, wasn't she?" interjected Chrissie quickly, before either Chris or Sian could say anything.
"She could have been, Chrissie," said Chris slowly, "but from what she was saying ... it just doesn't seem likely ..."
"Chris does have a point, Chrissie," said Sian. "I mean, of course it would be like Malty to make herself seem more important than she is ... but that's a big lie to tell ..."
"Exactly," I said, but I could not press the point, because so many people were trying to listen in to my conversation, not to mention staring at me and whispering behind their hands.
"It's rude to point," Chrissie snapped at a particularly miniscule first-year as we joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The girl, who had been muttering something about me behind her hand to her friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Chrissie sniggered, but stopped quickly as the sharp look Sian gave her, along with the thwack she planted on Chrissie's arm. Sian then bent down to help the girl up, casting her a gentle, reassuring smile. The girl put her trembling hands in Sian's and Sian helped the girl to her feet. The girl then cast Sian a fleeting, grateful smile, before she ran off. Sian then turned back to us and shot Chrissie a sharp glare, which she avoided. Sian then shook her head and beckoned us on to breakfast. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Chrissie plucked up the courage to speak again.
"I love being a sixth-year. And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax."
"We're going to need that time for studying, Chrissie!" said Sian snappishly, as we walked on down the corridor.
"Yeah, but not today," said Chrissie, "today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."
"Hold it!" said Sian, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth-year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disc clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it over," she told him sternly. The scowling boy handed over the Fanged Frisbee, ducked under Sian's arm and took off after his friends. Chrissie waited for him to vanish, then tugged the Frisbee free from Sian's grip.
"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these."
Sian's remonstration was drowned by a loud laugh; Larry Brown had apparently found Chrissie's remark highly amusing. He continued to laugh as he passed us, glancing back at Chrissie over his shoulder. Chrissie looked rather pleased with herself.
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. Dena hadn't arrived with Zara yet, so Chris sat with Sian, Chrissie and I, and as the four of us tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Chrissie and I told Chris and Sian about our embarrassing conversation with Mina the previous evening.
"But she can't really think we'd continue with Care of Magical Creatures!" Sian said, looking distressed. "I mean, when have any of us expressed ... you know ... any enthusiasm?"
"That's it, though, innit?" said Chris, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Mina. But she thinks we liked the stupid subject? D'you reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?"
Neither Sian nor Chrissie nor I answered; there was no need. We knew perfectly well that nobody in our year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures. We avoided Mina's eye and returned her cheery wave only half-heartedly when she left the staff table ten minutes later, and only five minutes before that Dena had come into the Great Hall with Zara, looking disappointed that Chris was sat with us instead of her, but Chris waved at her and blew me a kiss, which made Dena blush and giggle, and which made me feel annoyed at Dena for some reason.
After we had eaten, we remained in our places, awaiting Professor Darbus' descent from the staff table. The distribution of timetables was more complicated than usual that year, for Professor Darbus needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with our chosen N.E.W.T.s.
Sian was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Ancient Runes and Potions, and she shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without further ado. Chris was cleared for the same subjects, except that he had Arithmancy instead of Ancient Runes, and ran off to a first-period Arithmancy as soon as Professor Darbus was done with him. Nikita took a little longer to sort out; her round face was anxious as Professor Darbus looked down her application and then consulted her O.W.L. results.
"Herbology, fine," Professor Darbus said. "Spud will be delighted to see you back with an "Outstanding" O.W.L. And you qualify for Defence Against the Dark Arts with "Exceeds Expectations". But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Bore, but an "Acceptable" really isn't good enough to continue to N.E.W.T. level, I just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."
Nikita hung her head. Professor Darbus peered at her through her square spectacles.
"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, any way? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."
Nikita looked miserable and muttered something about "my grandfather wants".
"Humph," snorted Professor Darbus. "It's high time your grandfather learned to be proud of the granddaughter he's got, rather than the one he thinks he ought to have - particularly after what happened at the Ministry."
Nikita turned very pink and blinked confusedly; Professor Darbus had never paid her a compliment before.
"I'm sorry, Bore, but I cannot let you into my N.E.W.T. class. I see that you have an "Exceeds Expectations" in Charms, however - why not try for an N.E.W.T in Charms?"
"My grandfather thinks Charms is a soft option," mumbled Nikita.
"Take Charms," said Professor Darbus, "and I shall drop Augustus a line reminding him that just because he failed his Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless." Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Nikita's face, Professor Darbus tapped a blank timetable with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of her new classes, to Nikita.
Professor Darbus turned next to Parry Parker, whose first question was whether Fauna, the beautiful centaur, was still teaching Divination.
"She and Professor Crystals are dividing classes between them this year," said Professor Darbus, a hint of disapproval in her voice; it was common knowledge that she despised the subject of Divination. "The sixth year is being taken by Professor Crystals."
Perry set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.
"So, Pride-Lander, Pride-Lander ... " said Professor Darbus, consulting her notes as she turned to me. "Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration ... all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Pride-Lander, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"
"It was, but you told me I had to get an "Outstanding" in my O.W.L., Professor."
"And so you did when Professor Triphorm was teaching the subject. Professor Beadu, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T. students with "Exceeds Expectations" at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"
"Yes," I said, "but I didn't buy the books or any ingredients or anything - "
"I'm sure Professor Beadu will be able to lend you some," said Professor Darbus. "Very well, Pride-Lander, here is your timetable. Oh, by the way - twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Lion-Heart Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure."
A few minutes later, Chrissie was cleared to do the same subjects as me, and the two of us left the table together.
"Look," said Chrissie delightedly, staring at her timetable, "we've got a free period now ... and a free period after break ... and after lunch ... excellent!"
We returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a dozen seventh-years including Keith Ball, the only remaining member of the Lion-Heart Quidditch team that I had joined in my first year.
"I thought you'd get that, well done," he called over, pointing at the captain's badge on my chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"
"Don't be stupid," I said, "you don't need to try out, I've watched you play for five years ..."
"You mustn't start off like that," he said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends ..."
Chrissie looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Sian had taken from the fourth-year. It zoomed around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites off the tapestry. Lucifer's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it came too close.
An hour later we reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Chris and Sian were already queuing outside, both carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.
"We got so much homework for Runes," Sian said anxiously, when Chrissie and I joined her and Chris. A fifteen-inch essay, two translations and I've got to read these by Monday!"
"Same for me in Arithmancy," said Chris, shaking his head.
"Shame," yawned Chrissie.
"Oh, Chrissie," sighed Chris, shaking his head sadly at her, "you poor, poor, sweet, naïve little fool ..."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Chrissie asked, looking affronted.
"I believe what Chris is trying to say, sister," said Sian, "is that after all this time, you really don't know Triphorm at all, do you? And I happen to agree with him. You watch, she'll give us loads of homework now."
The classroom door opened as she spoke and Triphorm stepped into the corridor, her sallow face framed by two long curtains of strawberry-blonde hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.
"Inside," she said.
I looked around as we entered. Triphorm had imposed her personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. None of us spoke as we settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.
"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Triphorm, closing the door and moving to face us from behind her desk; Sian 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."
Her icy-blue eyes roved over our upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on mine than anyone else's.
"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."
You believe ... like you haven't watched them all come and go, Triphorm, hoping you'd be next, I thought scathingly.
"Naturally, these teachers will have all had their own methods and priorities. Given the 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."
Triphorm set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; we all craned our necks to keep her in view.
"The Dark Arts," said Triphorm, "are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, every time a head is severed, sprouts a head even more fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."
I stared at Triphorm. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Triphorm was doing, with a loving caress in her voice?
"Your defences," said Triphorm, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo. These pictures," she indicated a few of them as she swept past, "give fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" (she waved a hand towards a wizard who was clearly shrieking in agony) "feel the Stingers Suck" (a witch lay 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 Perry Party nervously. "Is it definite, is she using them?"
"Both the Dark Lord and the Scarlet Lady have been known to use them in the past," said Triphorm, "which means you would be well-advised to assume she might use them again. Now ..."
She set off again around the other side of the classroom towards her desk, and again, myself and the rest of my classmates watched her as she walked, her dark robes billowing behind her.
" ... you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"
Sian's hand shot into the air. Triphorm took her time looking around at the rest of us, making sure she had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well - Eldest Dawson Girl?"
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Sian, "which gives you a split-second advantage."
"An answer copied almost word for word from the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6," said Triphorm dismissively (over in the corner, Malty sniggered), "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who can progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some," her gaze lingered maliciously on mine once more, "lack."
I knew Triphorm was thinking of our disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year. I refused to drop her gaze, but glowered at Triphorm until Triphorm looked away.
"You will now divide," Triphorm 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."
Although Triphorm did not know it, I had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the CA) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of us had ever cast the Charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Sian managed to repel Chris' muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word, a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Lion-Heart from ant reasonable teacher, I thought bitterly, but which Triphorm ignored. She swept between all of us as we practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown red bat as ever, lingering to watch Chrissie and I struggling with the task.
Chrissie, who was supposed to be jinxing me, was purple in the face, her lips tightly compressed to save herself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. I had my wand raised, waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.
"Pathetic, Dawson," said Triphorm, after a while. "Here - let me show you - "
She turned her wand on me so fast that I reacted instinctively; all thought of non-verbal spells forgotten yelled, "Protego!"
My Shield Charm was so strong Triphorm was knocked off balance and his a desk. The rest of the class looked round and now watched as Triphorm righted herself, scowling.
"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing non-verbal spells, Pride-Lander?"
"Yes," I said stiffly.
"Yes, ma'am."
"There's no need to call me 'ma'am', Professor."
The words had escaped me before I knew what I was saying. Several people gasped, including Sian. Chris, Chrissie, Dena and Zara grinned appreciatively.
"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Triphorm. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Pride-Lander ... not even the Chosen One."
"That was brilliant, Kiara!" chortled Chrissie, once we were safely on our way to break a short while later.
"I agree with Chrissie on this one," said Chris, ending on a laugh. "Way to stick it to her, Kiara!"
"You really shouldn't have said it," said Sian, frowning at Chris and Chrissie. "What made you?"
"She was trying to jinx me, in case you didn't noticed!" I said, fuming. "I had enough of that during those Occlumecy lessons! Why doesn't she use another guinea pig for a change? What's Crighton playing at, anyway, letting her teach Defence? Did you hear her talking about the Dark Arts? She loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff - "
"Well," said Sian, "I thought she sounded a bit like you."
"Like me?"
"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Zira. You said it wasn't just memorising a bunch of spells, you said it was you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn't that what Triphorm was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"
I was so disarmed that she had thought my words as well worth memorising as The Standard Book of Spells that I did not argue.
"Kiara! Hey, Kiara?"
I looked round; Jackie Slacks, one of the Beaters on the previous year's Lion-Heart Quidditch team, was hurrying towards me with a roll of parchment.
"For you," panted Slacks. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"
"I'm not sure yet," I said, thinking privately that Slacks would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."
"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend - "
But I was not listening; I had just recognised the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Slacks in mid-sentence, I hurried away with Chris, Sian and Chrissie, unrolling the parchment as I went.
Dear Sian and Kiara,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Please kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you are both enjoying your first day back at school.
Yours sincerely,
Susan Crighton
P.S. There are tokens inside the envelope for you and Sian. You know how to use them.
"What are the tokens for?" said Chrissie, who read the message over my shoulder and was looking perplexed.
"They're for the elevator that takes us to her office," I said in a low voice. "Ha! Triphorm's not going to be pleased ... I won't be able to do her detention!"
She, Sian and I (not Chris, for Dena had caught up with him and dragged him off with Zara to their own little corner of the courtyard; I watched them go, to much annoyance, though I didn't know why) spent the whole of break speculating on what Crighton would teach Sian and I. Chrissie thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Love Destroyers would not know. Sian said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Crighton wanted to teach herself and I advanced defensive magic, but that we would have to wait and see until Saturday, for even though Sian knew her mother well, Sian sometimes didn't know what her mother was going to do next. After break, the three of us, and Chris, proceeded to the common room, where we grudgingly started Triphorm's homework. This turned out to be so complex that, even though Sian was with us, we were still doing it through our lunch-free period. We had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and we beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Triphorm's.
When we arrived in the corridor we saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T level. Crate and Gabber had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L. grade, but four Snake-Eyes had made it through, including Malty and Rae-Bradley, who I saw looked uncomfortable around her fellow Snake-Eyes, who ignored her, but she turned and smiled at Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I briefly when she saw us, and we smiled back at her. Three Raven-Wings were there, and one Badger-Stripes, Emily Mack, whom I liked despite her rather pompous manner.
"Kiara," Emily said portentously, holding out her hand as I approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defence Against the Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old CA lags ... and how are you, Chris - Sian - Chrissie?"
Before they could say more than 'fine', the dungeon door opened and Beadu's long and bony figure stepped out, her hair tied in a tight bun, and she greeted Zamba and I with particular enthusiasm.
The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapours and odd smells. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I sniffed interestedly as we passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Snake-Eyes took a nearby table together, as did the three Raven-Wings and Emily. This left Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I to our own table. We chose the one nearest a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents I have ever inhaled: somehow it reminded me simultaneously of apple crumble, the woody smell of a broomstick and something woodsy I might have smelled at Dawson Manor ... like pine? I found that I was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling me up like a drink. A great contentment stole over me; I grinned across at Chrissie, who grinned lazily back. Chris, I saw, was gazing dreamily at me, which made me blush furiously and I looked away from him, trying desperately not to feel his eyes on mine, shaking my head furiously.
"Now then, now then, now then," said Beadu, whose bony outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapours. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion Making ..."
"Ma'am?" I said, raising my hand.
"Kiara, dear?"
"I haven't got a book or scales or anything - nor's Chrissie - we didn't realise we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T, you see - "
"Ah, yes, Professor Darbus did mention ... not to worry, my dear girl, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from my 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 ..."
Beadu strode over to a corner cupboard and after a moment's foraging emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libiatus Dorage, which she gave to Chrissie and I along with two sets of tarnished scales.
"Now then," said Beadu, returning to the front of the class and standing at her full height, so that she easily towered over all of us, "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?"
She indicated the cauldron nearest the Snake-Eyes table. I raised myself slightly in my seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.
Sian's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Beadu pointed at her.
"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Sian.
"Very good, very good!" said Beadu happily. "Now," she continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Raven-Wings and Badger-Stripes table, this one here is pretty well-known ... featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately, too ... who can - ?"
Sian's hand was fastest once more.
"It's Polyjuice Potion, ma'am," she said.
I recognised the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance in the second cauldron, too, but I did not resent Sian getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in our second year.
"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here ... yes, my dear?" said Beadu, now looking slightly bemused as Sian's hand punched the air again.
"It's Amortentia!"
"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Beadu, who was looking mildly impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"
"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Sian.
!Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"And by the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Sian enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell the smell of new books and fresh baking and French vanilla." She smiled a little dreamily as she finished the sentence.
"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Beadu, ignoring Sian's dreamy state, and calling Sian back to the present.
"Sian Dawson, ma'am."
"Dawson? Dawson? Can you possibly be related to Matthew Dawson, a student who I never saw much hope with, but has done well for himself once he left school and in recent months, I hear?"
She flushed a little and said, "Yes, ma'am, I am. I am the firstborn of him and Susan Crighton, Headmistress of this school, and in case you want to know, we're one of the last remaining pure-blood families around." There was a note of pride in Sian's voice as she told Beadu that her family was a pure-blood family. She merely stated it as a fact, which made Beadu's eyebrows rise.
I saw Malty lean close to Natt and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Beadu showed no dismay; on the contrary, after her initial shock at Sian's comment, she beamed and looked from Sian to me, as I was sat beside her.
"Aha! 'One of my best friends is pure-blood, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Kiara?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
Beadu nodded, then turned back to Sian and said, tapping a bony finger thoughtfully on her chin, "Crighton's firstborn, eh? Well, I can certainly see the resemblance, not to mention the uncannily annoying clever brains which you have obviously inherited from your mother ..." But after a moment, Beadu shrugged her shoulders, smiled widely and said, "But who am I to deny talent when I see it so clearly? Take twenty well-earned points for Lion-Heart, Miss Dawson!"
Malty had looked rather as she had done the time Sian had punched her in the face. Sian turned to me with a bashful expression and whispered, "Did you really tell her I'm the best in the year? Oh, Kiara!"
"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Chrissie. "You are the best in the year - I've told her so if she'd asked me!"
"I would have, too," whispered Chris. Sian smiled at their comments but made a 'shush'ing gesture, so that we could hear what Beadu was saying. Chris and Chrissie both looked slightly disgruntled.
"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," she said, nodding gravely at Malty and Natt, both of whom were smirking sceptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love ...
"And now," said Beadu, "it is time for us to start work."
"Ma'am, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Emily Mac, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Beadu's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the colour of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.
"Aha," said Beadu again. I was sure that Beadu had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," she turned, smiling, to look at Sian, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis is, Miss Dawson?"
"It's liquid luck," said Sian excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"
All of us in that class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all I could see of Malty was the back of her sleek blonde head, because she was at last giving Beadu her full and undivided attention.
"Quite right, take another ten points for Lion-Heart. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Beadu. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed ... at least until the effects wear off."
"Why don't people take it all the time, ma'am?" said Teri Boots eagerly.
"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness and dangerous overconfidence," said Beadu. "Too much of a good thing, you know ... highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally ..."
"Have you ever taken it, ma'am?" said Michelle Corn with great interest.
"Twice in my life," said Beadu. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."
She gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether she was play-acting or not, I thought, the effect was good.
"And that," said Beadu, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."
There was a silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.
"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Beadu, taking out a miniscule glass bottle with a cork in it our of her pocket and showing it to all of us. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn 'til dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.
"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organised 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 Beadu, suddenly brisk, "how are you going 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 we all drew our cauldrons towards us, and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but none of us spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. I saw Malty riffling feverishly through her copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that Malty really wanted that lucky day. I bent swiftly over the tattered book that Beadu had lent me.
To my annoyance I 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) I hurried off towards the store cupboard to find what I needed. As I dashed back to my cauldron, I saw Malty cutting up valerian roots as fast as she could.
We all kept glancing around to see what the rest of us were 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. Sian, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the 'smooth, blackcurrant-coloured liquid' mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.
Having finished chopping my roots, I bent over my 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 an issue with the order to cut up the Sopophorous Bean and had written in the alternative direction:
Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.
"Ma'am, I think you knew my grandmother, Abhilasha Malty?"
I looked up; Beadu was just passing the Snake-Eyes table.
"Yes," said Beadu, without looking at Malty, "I was sorry to hear she had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at her age ..."
And she walked away. I bent over my cauldron, smirking. I could tell that Malty had expected to be treated like myself or Zamba, perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type she had learned to expect from Triphorm. It looked as though Malty would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.
The Sopophorous Bean was proving very difficult to cut up. I turned to Sian.
"Can I borrow your silver knife?"
She 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.
I crushed my bean with the flat side of the dagger. To my astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice. I was amazed the shrivelled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron I saw, to my surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.
My annoyance with the previous own vanishing on the spot, I now squinted at the next line of instructions. According to the book, I had to stir counter-clockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the edition the previous owner had made, however, I ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counter-clockwise stir. Could the owner be right twice?
I stirred counter-clockwise, held my breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.
"How are you doing that?" demanded Sian, 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 counter-clockwise!" she snapped.
I shrugged and continued what I was doing. Seven stirs counter-clockwise, one clockwise, pause ... seven stirs counter-clockwise, one stir clockwise ...
Across the table, Chrissie was cursing fluently under her breath; her potion looked like liquid liquorice. Chris, on the other hand, was frowning into his potion, which was blue violet, and he had two little frustration lines above his nose that I had never noticed before, which I found to be rather cute. I shook my head and glanced around. As far as I could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as mine had. I felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in the dungeon.
"And time's ... up!" called Beadu. "Stop stirring, please!"
Beadu moved slowly between the tables, peering into the cauldrons. She made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a little stir, or a sniff. At last she reached the table where Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were sitting. She smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Chrissie's cauldron. She passed over Chris' violet blue concoction. Sian's potion she gave an approving nod. Then she saw mine, and a look of incredulous delight spread over her face.
"The clear winner!" she cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Kiara! Good Lord, it's clear you've inherited your father's talent, he was a dab hand at Potions, Simba was! Here you are, then, here you are - one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"
I slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into my inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Snake-Eyes' faces, and guilt at the disappointed expression on Sian's. Both Chris and Chrissie looked simply dumbfounded.
"How did you do that?" Chrissie whispered to me as we left the dungeon.
"Got lucky, I suppose," I said, because Malty was within earshot.
Once we were securely ensconced at the Lion-Heart table for dinner, however, I felt safe enough to tell them. Sian's face became stonier with every word I uttered.
"I s'pose you think I cheated," I finished, aggravated by her expression.
"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" she said stiffly.
"She only followed different instructions to ours," said Chrissie. "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But she took a risk and it paid off." She heaved a sigh. "Beadu could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written in. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but - "
"Hang on," said a voice close by my ear, and I looked round to see that Kestrel had joined us; at precisely the same moment, Dena showed up and dragged Chris away to where Zara was sat. I watched them before turning my focus back on Kestrel. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Kiara?"
She looked alarmed and angry. I knew what was on her mind at once.
"It's nothing," I said reassuringly, lowering my voice. "It's not like, you know, Maliay's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled in, that's all."
"But you're doing what it says?"
"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Kestrel, there's nothing funny - "
"Kestrel's got a point," said Sian, perking up at once. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knoew?"
"Hey!" I said indignantly, as she pulled my copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of my 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.
"Finished?" I said irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few back flips?"
"It seems all right," said Sian, still staring at the book suspiciously. "I mean, it really does seem to be ... just a textbook."
"Good. Then I'll have it back," I said, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from my hand and landed open on the floor.
Nobody else was looking. I bent low to retrieve the book and, as I did so, I saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won me my bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in my trunk upstairs.
This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Princess.
AN: I am sorry if you are not receiving any notifications for this story, I'm not either, but I am updating every Wednesday. If you wish to follow the forum I started on this site yesterday, you will see that I posted the same thing there. I will post again after I update this story to tell you that a new chapter has been updated. See you next Wednesday.