Note: In response to some of your questions, yes, Dumbledore knows that Harry's scar is a horcrux. He suspected something unfortunate from the first, but has had ten years to think about it. With the evidence that something of Voldemort had remained on this plane of existence, he eventually came to the correct conclusion. However, he does not know about any other horcruxes. At the moment he, like Snape, thinks that Voldemort's plan was to make a horcrux the night he murdered the Potters, and that something went awry. Making even one is so abominable that multiple horcruxes did not cross his mind. Voldemort considered that the beauty of his plan. Did Slughorn know? That is an interesting question. I'm not sure that he did. However, he leaves the scene shortly after the destruction of Voldemort. It's possible that with the lack of a body, he might have suspected something and decided he did not need the visibility of a Hogwarts professorship. However, it's clear he never told anyone else until confronted by Dumbledore in Harry's sixth year, and even then it took Harry to get the truth out of him. From my reading of canon, I don't think that Dumbledore had a clue that there were more of the vile things until the revelation of Tom Riddle's diary. It must have been a horrifying discovery. I believe that up to that point Dumbledore probably believed that Harry was the only horcrux, created partly by accident, and the attacks were the result of Voldemort's spirit being abroad and possessing someone else, just as it had in Harry's first year. However, forever unanswered is the question: did Dumbledore know that Slytherin's monster was a basilisk? If Hermione Granger could unravel the mystery, why couldn't he?

So I think that in the summer after Harry's second year Dumbledore started his research into Tom Riddle's past and began the horcrux hunt. Why he did not tell anyone else I think points to his chief character flaw: a tendency to hoard knowledge. It's unfortunate that he did not trust his friends and followers enough to include them in his search. I really don't regard Dumbledore as evil or incorrigible, but he is so much older, or so much more powerful, or so much more intelligent than nearly everyone he knows-sometimes all three- that he finds it hard to regard other people as equals, or even as adults. To a certain extent, I believe he thinks he's protecting them from horrors only he is strong enough to face. Sometimes he's right-and he's right so often that he has almost forgotten he can be wrong.

The Best Revenge

Chapter 39

Precautions had been taken to make future quidditch matches less hazardous than the first-at least for the spectators. Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw lasted over an hour and a half, in a bone-chilling, driving sleet that discouraged the fainthearted. The Ravenclaw team made a rather poor showing, since their best players had finished school the year before and they were in the process of rebuilding their team. The Hufflepuffs scored again and again, until Cedric, soaring up above the clouds, found and captured the Snitch.

The day of the game, Flitwick took Hermione aside.

"It's very important that you make an appearance and show house loyalty, Miss Granger," he told her seriously. "I realise that you have many good friends in Hufflepuff, but as regards quidditch, you must be seen to be Ravenclaw all the way!"

Thus advised, Hermione wrapped up warmly, did not bring a book, and sat through to the finish. She even managed a decent pretense of disappointment at the outcome, though she was secretly pleased at Cedric's triumph. Harry had lent her his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, so she was able to make intelligent small talk about the game. She even exerted herself to listen sympathetically to the reserve Seeker, a second-year girl named Chang, who declared that she could out-fly the current Ravenclaw Seeker even on a school broom.

"There's always next year," Hermione pointed out. This attempt at comfort was unsuccessful.

Cho Chang tossed her silky black hair. "I should be flying this year!" She walked away to tell the team captain as much.

Hermione wondered why otherwise sensible people cared so much about the game. Not everyone did, of course. She had discovered that a number of the older Ravenclaw girls were quite bright, and some very nice indeed. The two Clearwater sisters, Penelope and Helena, always spoke to her in the Common Room, and would ask her what she was reading. Penelope was a fifth-year and a prefect, and Hermione had discovered that she was approachable and helpful when Hermione had questions. Helena was a third-year, and had a great deal to say about why Arithmancy was the best subject taught at Hogwarts. Helena's good friend, Emily Fawcett, was muggleborn like Hermione, and very interested in all the doings of Hermione's first-year club.

And there were some other pleasant aspects to Ravenclaw life. The Common Room was very beautiful, and the tradition of answering a riddle, rather than giving a password, was one that Hermione quite liked. She had always enjoyed puzzles and brain-teasers, and in this one regard, Ravenclaw did not disappoint. As long as she spent as little time as possible in the dormitory room with Morag and Mandy, it was not so bad. Only at night, when she crept into her bed, and drew the curtains to shut out the cold looks and barbed words, did she sigh to herself at the thought of spending six more years in a smallish room with the girls who so disliked her.

"To Cedric Diggory! May he always find what he Seeks!"

High revel reigned in the Hufflepuff Common Room. Such a victory in their first match seemed a good omen for the House's Quidditch Cup prospects.

Harry understood enough about scoring to grasp what Oswald Whitby, the Hufflepuff captain, was saying about the advantages of today's high score.

"You want to build up that score, whenever you can. The Seeker may win the game, but in the end it all comes down to points, exactly like the House Cup."

"But if the Snitch is there, you've got to take it," Cedric objected.

Oswald squinted in thought. "Or just make sure the other bloke doesn't. You may see the Snitch, but if the opposing Seeker hasn't, why draw attention? Let the score build up, and then go after it."

From the sound of it, this was a running argument. Cedric disagreed so completely with Oswald's idea that he made of point of taking Harry aside and explaining why it was "rubbish."

"You can't ignore the Snitch. Oswald's cracked if he thinks you can. He thinks like a Beater, you see. The Bludgers don't go and disappear when it suits them. If you sit up there on your broom, pretending the Snitch isn't there, it might well just blink away and pop up right in front of the other Seeker's face. Oswald's all right otherwise, but he's mad if thinks I won't go after the Snitch whenever I see it!"

Harry nodded gravely, feeling very much a knowledgeable sportsman to be included in the councils of the team. "And you'd look a right fool if everybody in the stands saw the Snitch and they thought you didn't."

"There is that," Cedric laughed.

It was all very comfortable there in the Common Room: a roaring fire, cups of rich cocoa, tins of treats owl-ordered by the seventh years for just such a celebration. Things had been quiet for the past few weeks: no attacks, no unpleasant incidents, and Professor Quirrell back to being a stuttering incompetent. It would be easy to imagine that the danger was past, and that Professor Quirrell had thought better of trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Sometimes Harry found he could forget about it for hours at a time. There were so many nicer things to fill his time and his thoughts.

Owl-order was a new concept to Harry. So easy-so convenient. He made a point of sharing this information at an Explorers' club meeting, though it appeared that the muggleborns without their own Gringotts vaults could not make full use of the process.

"Well, you should have a vault at Gringotts," Draco told Hermione afterward. "Every witch and wizard should have one. How do you propose to do your Christmas shopping?"

"Shopping?" Harry wondered to himself. Everyone was talking about the holidays, talking about where they would go, and what they would do, and what they would get, and what they would give. Harry's only Christmas gifts had been paper bags of Dudley's cast-offs. He had never in his life given anyone else a present. He had never had the means to do so.

Things are different now, of course.

What could he possibly give people that they would want? And who should he give presents to? He would really like to give something to Professor Snape-and to Professor McGonagall, too-to show them how much he appreciated all they had done for him. What did kids give grownups? Dudley certainly never gave his parents anything.

It was so embarrassing. He was hesitant to display his ignorance to his fellow first-years. He did not want to ask Professor Snape, for fear of sounding like he was hinting for a present himself. He considered consulting Professor Sprout, but seeing Professor Burbage standing by herself near the door, he took the plunge and asked her outright what was expected of him by way of presents.

To his relief, she did not laugh at him, or looked shocked. Instead, she told him to come by her office on Monday, and they could talk privately about his concerns.

He managed to squeeze some time after lunch the next day to visit the Muggle Studies office.

"Well, Harry," Charity said, after waving him into the chair by her desk. "children aren't generally expected to give presents to adults at your age, other than a token of some sort-a picture, a card, something you've made. Later on, you might give more, but if you're worried about Professor Snape-" she smiled "-and I can see that you are- I'm sure he doesn't expect you to give him anything."

"But I'd like to," Harry insisted. "I just don't know what." At primary school they had often made little presents for Christmas, and after the first painful experience of seeing Aunt Petunia throw his creation into the rubbish bin, he had always disposed of the items before they could be made objects of scorn by the Dursleys. What could he do-what could he make that would be good enough for Professor Snape?

Charity could see how it worried him. "Let me think about it," she said. "Maybe we could do something at the next club meeting. It wouldn't be expensive, but it would be something."

"That would be great!"

"As for your friends...yes, they'll probably give you some small presents, so you might want to give it a bit of thought: a book, some sweets, little magical trifles-that sort of thing. Honeyduke's has a catalogue, and so does Magical Home and Garden-and Gladrags-Flourish & Blotts-Dervish & Bangs-Oh! And Fleurissant de Paris has an owl-order-only warehouse in Diagon Alley. Some of their things are lovely. Why don't you make a list of the friends you might want to give a present to? If you want some help, you can drop by again. You might want to get some extra sweets, in case someone unexpected gives you a present."

Harry looked at her wide-eyed. Christmas shopping seemed a dauntingly complicated business.

But Christmas was coming, whether he was ready or not. One morning, he woke to find Hogwarts covered in several feet of snow. Outside the dormitory and the cosy Common Room, cold draughts whistled down the corridors and rattled the windows in the classrooms. It was so cold in the dungeons during Potions that the students crowded close to their hot cauldrons, trying to keep their fingers warm. Harry made his first owl-order: not a present, but a pair of gloves for himself- fine gloves of supple black leather, lined with soft Spellcombe wool. He put them on and they fit perfectly. Hedwig hooted her approval. Harry took to wearing them between classes, and his hands were grateful for them.

Professor Sprout posted a notice, asking for the names of any students intending to spend Christmas as Hogwarts. Harry stared at it awhile, and then sat down to think it over.

Why go to Privet Drive? His room was pleasant enough, and Muffy would bring anything he liked to eat, but it would be a lonely few weeks, and there would be little to do but study. If Professor Quirrell remained at Hogwarts over the holidays, Harry needed to watch him.

What did Professor Snape do at Christmas? Would he go home to the odd little house at Spinners End? Maybe he would go on holiday somewhere warm and sunny. Feeling he had to know the worst at once, he stayed after Potions class to talk it over.

"An interesting expression," Snape remarked, observing Harry's furrowed brow. "I trust you did not ingest any of your Spot-Vanisher,"

"Professor-" Harry blurted out "-do you have plans for Christmas?"

Snape blinked.

Do I have plans? My boy, if only you knew.

Snape had simply assumed that Harry knew that he always spent the winter and spring holidays at Hogwarts. He had simply assumed that Harry would wish to stay here as well. And this year he had more than the usual reasons of brewing projects and general inertia. He and the other Heads of House were deeply involved in tightening the noose around the Dark Lord's incorporeal neck.

Pure sea salt, dissolved and then recrystallized in uniform cubes, glittering and magically charged, had been laid over a copper wire in a mathematically perfect circle incised into the stone of the floor surrounding the Mirror of Erised. The circle was so carefully beglamoured as to be indistinguishable from the stone itself. Inside the circle was the Baphomet Configuration, a stylised rendering of the Horned God. Flitwick had written a Babylonian charm which would confine evil spirits within the circumference of the circle. The tiny cuneiform characters were almost impossible to see, and the characters looked like natural scratches to the casual observer.

Snape was not entirely clear as to what Minerva and Filius had done to the Mirror itself. He had seen them casting spell after spell, layering additional magic in a subtle, unobtrusive way. Minerva had a needle-sharp ritual dagger, which she used to carve some unknown symbols under the Mirror's legend, at the corners of the frame, and in four points of the room that coincided with the cardinal points of the compass. Even if the Dark Lord escaped from Quirrell, he must escape the circle, and even if he managed to escape the circle, he would have little chance of escaping the room. However, it was their plan that he would have not the least desire to do so, anyway. Albus' trap, as they understood it, was not bad, but they felt their refinements would go far to make it perfect.

He had written again to Nicholas Flamel, warning him that the "the object" was in danger and might well be destroyed. There had been no response. Flamel might not be accepting correspondence from strangers. He might not even be alive, for all Snape knew. Snape had thought of asking Albus about Flamel, but decided against it. He did not want Albus to know what he was doing, since he would certainly interfere.

He still had the Soul Divider's Potion to brew, once Pomona obtained the needed moly plants. She planned to leave as soon the Hogwarts Express pulled out of Hogsmeade Station. She had purchased an International Portkey to Stregavecchia, the charming magical resort near Mount Etna in Sicily. She would pot the plants, and then immediately fly north. Her fellow Heads of House also had their own portkeys, for the journey was too long for anyone to undertake non-stop. Even more daunting, moly would not survive and be usable if it were not transplanted within twenty-four hours. Snape had considered going to Sicily himself and brewing the potion there, but it would keep him away from Hogwarts for an inconveniently long time. Besides, Pomona was now rather excited at the idea of adding such a rare and powerful plant to the Hogwarts greenhouses. Moly was a very ancient ingredient, dating back to the days of the Sorceress Circe: the hero Odysseus had used the flower of the moly plant to resist the transfiguring effects of Circe's potions.

What Snape intended to brew with this ingredient was based on an antidote to a love potion, and had many of the same side affects of such antidotes: temporary loss of motor skills, impaired judgment, a tendency to babble about whatever crossed one's mind, mild hallucinations. Quirrell's derangement would throw the Dark Lord off-balance and make it difficult for him to maintain firm control of his victim. It was too much to hope that the physical effects would be felt by the Dark Lord himself. The potion's recipe was not described in any great detail-more a mention, in archaic language, of various ingredients, and a vague idea of proportions and timing. At least the finished product's color and consistency seemed clear enough. It might take a few tries to get it right. The work table in his private potions laboratory was piled with notes and books and papers, as he attempted to derive a usable formula from scattered sources.

In short, Snape was going to be very busy throughout the holidays, and he did not want Harry to become aware of the plots going on in the deserted school. Nonetheless, it would be cruel to exile the boy to Privet Drive, to enforced solitude and the gruesome spectacle of Dursley merry-making.

So, after a moment's thought, he was able to answer Harry's question.

"I always spend Christmas here at Hogwarts. Did you wish to go elsewhere?"

"No! I mean-that would be great-as long as you're going to be here, too. I just hoped-"

"I will certainly be here, Harry. There is always a splendid Christmas feast for those of us in the castle. Generally a few students remain. Perhaps we will have time to visit Hogsmeade."

"I'd like that! It's just that Professor Sprout needs to know if I'm staying over the hols, and I didn't know if you had anything in mind."

There was more in that vein. The boy, inexplicably, wished to spend Christmas with him-with Snape. It was very gratifying to know that he had made such an impression. Unfortunate, though, that he would be so busy. It would not do for the boy to be entirely at loose ends, getting into mischief.

"While I celebrate Christmas at Hogwarts, I am often invited to spend New Year's Eve with the Malfoys. I see no reason you would not come along if they extend the usual invitation."

This, too, seemed acceptable to the boy. That would be at least one day to keep him occupied, but Snape would try to think of something more. Harry went his way, off to tell Professor Sprout about his holiday plans.

"I do feel so sorry," said Zach Smith in Defense class a few days later, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

Harry knew that the words were directed at him, and ignored them. He was surprised to see Ron Weasley turn bright red, though he thought little of it at the time.

He had told his friends that he was remaining at school as soon as he had notified Professor Sprout. Harry would be quite alone in Hufflepuff, which concerned his Head of House.

"It's fine, Professor," he assured her. "It's not like I'll be alone in the castle. I'll do a bit of reading and studying. I'll see you all at meals, and Professor Snape and I have a few things planned. It'll be great!"

Unknown to him, Pomona Sprout went straight to Snape and asked him what was wrong with the boy's muggle relations.

"Is one of them ill? Are they planning on taking a holiday out of the country? Why not take the lad along with them?"

"Harry is enjoying the magical world, Pomona. He's not ready to leave it behind him-and frankly, his muggle relatives are not quite ready to have a young wizard back amongst them, though I would prefer this was kept confidential. He'll have a far more pleasant Christmas here."

Pomona looked at him so long and earnestly that Snape wondered if she was going to pepper him with questions about Harry's home life. She did not, however. Instead, she gave him a rather sad look, and patted his hand. "I daresay he will. No-you don't have to tell me-I understand a great deal more than you think, now."

Everyone had something to say about the situation. Late one evening, Charity told Snape that Harry was very worried about getting just the right present for his proxy guardian.

"I asked the students about it, and we're going to make some things at the last meeting before they leave for the holidays. Only trifles, mind you, but Harry is quite excited about giving presents."

"Rubbish! He doesn't need to get me anything!" Snape grunted.

She moved in closer to him on the cushioned settee in front of the fire, running her foot over his ankle. "He feels he needs to. It would make him happy. You must prepare yourself for the unspeakable horror of Christmas presents, Severus. You won't escape them this year."

"I do get Christmas presents. Albus always gives me socks. At least Minerva gives me whisky."

"Socks?" Her face fell into mock-despair. "Oh, dear! My plans are in ruins..."

She clearly expected the two of them to exchange presents. He would have to find something for her. Something personal? He would rather stick needles in his eyes than set foot in some god-awful be-ruffled establishment full of witches' furbelows. Owl order was the only option, unless he brewed her something. Hmmm...

And he would have to get Harry something too. Something decent-something sensible-not socks, though...

That last Explorers' meeting before the holidays was great fun. Professor Burbage provided materials for a number of magical craft projects. Some of the students were using beeswax and herbs for candles, and some were modeling it into amulets. Eggshells could be charmed into clever little unbreakable containers that sealed without a mark, or they could be decorated as ornaments and with the proper spell would play a tune. Some of these projects were not unknown to the wizard-born students in the group, but they possessed all the delights of novelty to the others. Professor Burbage walked among them, helping them with the charms.

Harry was enjoying making his two presents. There was a brilliantly scarlet candle for Professor McGonagall, with the runes for peace and friendship inscribed in golden ink. For Professor Snape he used the coloring charm Professor Burbage taught them to give a plain eggshell a finish just like black marble. It, too, was inscribed with a rune-the rune of secrecy. Professor Snape could put things in it he didn't want anyone else to see. Professor Snape was a private person and would like it, Harry was sure.

"What's that mark?" Hermione asked, looking up from her own ornament.

"It's a rune. It's a different way of doing magic. I've got a book about them."

"Oh! Runes!" Hermione leaned over for a better look. "We can take that class starting in our third year! I'd like very much to know more about them, Harry. You should talk to the club about them."

"I need to know a bit more, first," Harry said dryly. "They're really interesting, though. Professor-"

He broke off. He was not supposed to tell anyone about how Professor McGonagall had helped him. He frowned, and said, "Professor Snape never took Runes himself, but Draco's father knows quite a bit about them."

"Father's quite the scholar," Draco agreed proudly. He had little experience with crafts, since the Malfoys were accustomed to simply buying what they wanted, but this was rather fun, and a chance to prove he'd learned something at school.

"So you're really going to be staying here for Christmas, Harry?" Neville asked.

"Yeah. It's going to be great. Professor Snape thought we might go to Hogsmeade. It'll be weird, though, being the only student here."

"But you won't be," Neville told him, as he worked diligently on the charmed candle he would take home to Gran for Christmas. It was looking quite nice, if he said so himself. "Ron Weasley and his brothers are all staying."

"Weasley!" Draco was disgusted. "That's appalling. Lucky for you they're in a different House!"

"I didn't know anybody else was staying," Harry confessed. The thought of sharing the castle with Ron Weasley was not very pleasant.

"Well," Neville looked around and lowered his voice. "Zach didn't know either, or he wouldn't have made that nasty remark to you in Defense. He really upset Ron, and they're hardly talking to each other now. His parents are going to Romania, you see." Neville explained. "One of their older boys works there. He's a dragon handler, and Ron's awfully proud of him. They couldn't afford to take all the family, so Ron and the twins and Percy are all staying at school over the holidays. Ron's taking it hard."

"That's rough," Harry said.

He did feel a bit sorry for the red-haired boy. Everyone else Harry knew was going home for the holidays. If he had parents, he would certainly want to be with them.

Draco was not very sympathetic. "I don't think people should have so many children they can't afford to take care of them."

"Well, it is a shame, his very first Christmas since he left for school." Hermione said, more kindly. "I can't wait to see my parents and tell them all about Hogwarts. We're going to have such fun! Since we'll be in London anyway, we're going to a panto before we go home."

Explaining what a pantomime was took some time. There were no such holiday entertainments in the wizarding world, and Daphne and Lavender were especially vocal in their regret about that.

Justin had heard from his mother, and they were going to see The Nutcracker as they did every year. Sally was too, and to Harry's surprise, he learned that she and Justin had arranged with their parents for the families to go to the same matinée performance and have dinner together afterward.

"My parents are really looking forward to meeting your mother, Sally. They don't know anyone who has a kid at Hogwarts. I looked around a bit when I got here, but there's nobody whose name I recognised. My mother is surprised that there isn't some group or other for parents with magical children."

"I hope they get on all right. Your mother sounds very grand."

"She's all right," Justin assured her. "And you'll like my sister. They're both mad about ballet, like you. Talk you to death, probably. I hope my dad can make it. He always says he's going to, and then there's some sort of international crisis, and he's off to Kuwait or Beirut or Cairo. I hope he's home for Christmas, at least."

Harry gathered that Susan and Hannah would be spending quite a bit of time together. They had been friends before they came to Hogwarts, of course. Ernie would be seeing them at some evening party or other, and the girls talked about needing new dress robes.

Professor Burbage took pictures of all of them, with her curious magical camera. Some posed alone, and some with groups of friends. Everyone would have a picture to give their family. Harry asked her to take a picture of him by himself, and planned to give that to Professor Snape. He also posed with his Hufflepuff housemates, and with the officers of the Explorers Club. Draco wanted a picture with Harry for his parents. They all danced the Yule Measure, and drank hot mulled pumpkin juice. It was a wonderful way to get in the holiday spirit. At the end, Professor Burbage took a picture of all the members together.

"This one is my present!" she laughed.

Walking back toward the Great Hall, the students found Hagrid in the process of hauling in a huge fir tree.

"Need some help, Hagrid?" Harry called out.

"Naw, thanks. I got it. One more after this one an' I'll be done!"

Inside the Hall, Professor Flitwick was busily decorating ten more enormous Christmas trees, levitating glittering ornaments up into the lofty branches.

"Twelve of them?" gasped Hermione. The rest of the explorers crowded in to admire.

"-Would you look at the Hall!"

"-I've never seen anything like it!"

Harry grinned. He asked the others, "Now aren't you sorry you're not going to be here for Christmas?"

There were hugs and farewells as Harry's friends departed for Hogsmeade Station. Harry walked with them to the gates, and felt himself very much the master of the castle. Percy Weasley was bidding goodbye to some Ravenclaw girls, and he gave Harry a nod.

"All right there, Harry?" Percy had always been perfectly polite to Harry, on the rare occasions they had crossed paths.

"Yeah. I think it'll be great. You?"

"Well, it's too bad our family couldn't be together this year, but there are consolations. I plan to do some serious work in the library. My O.W.L. year, you know. It's very important to do well. Ron's a bit down in the mouth... Look here! Perhaps you two could spend some time together?"

"Well-"

"Do you play chess? Ron's quite a prodigy."

Harry laughed. "Then he'll beat me hollow! But yeah, I play chess. Just not very well."

"Nobody plays chess as well as Ron. Here come the twins. They'll want a snowball fight, I expect. Are you game?"

Up in the quarters of Minerva McGonagall, Sprout had just portkeyed away on her mission. The three remaining Heads of House were silent, thinking of the next few hours' demands. Snape went to the window and looked at the snowy scene. The crowd of noisy brats had departed. Far below, Harry was outside chatting with one of the Weasleys. Snape grimaced. Not the company he would choose for Harry, but the older boy was reasonably well-behaved. He must think of a way for Harry to see something of his friends over the holidays...

"Well, I'd better get some rest if I'm meeting Pomona in Bonifacio in five hours," Flitwick said, determinedly cheerful.

They had agreed that Minerva would take the next leg of the journey, from Lyons to Calais. Then Snape would have the last flight-long, cold, and dark-across the Channel and north to Scotland. He would need some rest, himself.

First he wanted to have another look at his research. Harry could surely be left to his own devices today. There was still the problem of stablising the potion...

It was a long walk down to the dungeons, but Snape spent it all in thought. He gave the password, stepped through the doorway, and paused.

Something seemed different here. Snape looked about warily. It was impossible that anyone could have gained access to his private laboratory.

The papers on the work table were rearranged. Snape tensed, and then realised that a draught through the connecting door must have disturbed them. If only they were not hopelessly out of order!

His notebook was on top, open to the last entry. Snape looked again, and felt his scalp tingle. There, in another's hand, was a message:

Aqua Vitae as a catalyst. Increase citrinnitas by exposure to Sun one hour.