Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three - Taking Candy
"How hard can it be?" said Blaise the following morning as they made their way to Potions class, "Slughorn loves you, Harry. I'm sure all you need to do is ask, and he'll spill all his secrets."
"You've spent more time with him than I have," Harry retorted. "Maybe you should give it a go?"
He had shared the content of his previous lesson with Blaise and Millie, and they had spent their morning in consultation over the best strategy for approaching Slughorn. Blaise seemed to favor the direct approach. As someone who had sailed through most of his life on good-looks and charm, he simply couldn't fathom anyone refusing a request that had been paired with flawless manners and a winning smile.
Harry was less confident. If Slughorn was wary enough to refuse a wizard as wise and powerful as Dumbledore, why should he feel compelled to confide in a teenager?
He turned to Millie for guidane, hoping she had some clever jinx up her sleeve that would solve all his problems. Unfortunately, Millie was less interested in what Slughorn was hiding, and more concerned with what Dumbledore hadn't told Harry.
"It's strange that he thinks the number of horcruxes is crucial, when he hasn't even told you what they are," Millie remarked after Harry appealed to her judgment.
"What do you mean? It's a type of weapon, isn't it?" Harry said, slightly irritated that Millie hadn't been listening to their conversation about Slughorn. "It's something Voldemort uses to curse people…"
Harry was thinking back to Sirius's slow decline and Dumbledore's current malady, but Millie stubbornly shook her head.
"If You-Know-Who wanted to use them to hurt people, he wouldn't have tried so hard to hide them away. I think the curse is just his way of protecting the horcruxes. What I want to know is why he was making them in the first place?"
Harry cast his mind back to the conversation he'd held with Dumbledore, in the small churchyard of Godric's Hollow. It was there that Dumbledore first told him of the horcruxes, and his suspicions with regard to Slytherin's locket. Harry had been distracted by the prophecy at the time. He had followed Dumbledore's example, memorizing every word. But the headmaster had shared something else. He had spoken of Voldemort…
"Dumbledore said that Voldemort feared death," Harry said after a moment of quiet reflection. "That he would do almost anything to prolong his own life..."
"So maybe a horcrux is a type of talisman?" suggested Blaise. "Or an amulet. Some kind of protective charm, so he can't be killed in a duel?"
Millie seemed dubious. "That still doesn't explain why he was hiding them away. Or why he needed so many of them."
Harry saw the sense in Millie's argument now. If Voldemort needed the horcruxes for protection, then why hadn't he been carrying one that fateful night, when he came to destroy Harry, murdering both of his parents in the process?
Confiding in his friends had raised many more questions than it resolved. Harry would have liked to think through this puzzle further, but their conversation was cut short as they entered the Potions classroom. Harry spotted Hermione instantly. She was sitting beside Theo Nott, looking as though she had taken great pains to style her hair in its most bewitching style. Though her eyes were not turned toward the doorway, the moment Harry stepped into the room, she burst into a peal of laughter at something Nott said, resting a hand on his arm as she spoke. Though apparently enjoying herself a great deal, she could not refrain from shooting Harry a contemptuous glance as he took a seat across the room.
"Still fighting with Hermione, then?" Nell asked brightly.
Harry merely shrugged in response, but Millie was staring at Hermione with a look of pity on her face.
"This has gone on long enough," she declared, "She's only going to embarrass herself at this rate. I'll talk to her, Harry. See if I can't smooth things over."
"You really don't have to do that," said Harry hastily. It was bad enough that the entire school was talking about his disastrous breakup. He couldn't imagine entangling his friends in the drama.
"Harry, you're my friend. And so is Hermione. I hate that we can't all hang out because the two of you are having a spat!" Millie said with an exasperated tone. "This is for me as much as it's for you."
Though Harry's instinct was to tell Millie not to interfere, he was secretly grateful. With the mystery of the horcruxes and Slughorn's secret still swirling in his mind, he craved Hermione's clever insight. Now that their relationship was over, he realized how much he had undervalued her as a friend. He vowed never to make the same mistake with Millie, and whispered as much to her as she left to join the table of Gryffindors.
"Settle down, settle down, everyone," Slughorn said with a cheery smile, silencing all further conversation, "Now, today we have an especially difficult challenge, though I am sure many of you will rise to the occasion..." He paused to give Harry an indulgent smile and a wink, before adding, "Today we will be brewing antidotes! A very useful talent, indeed, though let us hope none of you will have to use it in practice, eh? Now then, can anyone tell me about Golpalott's Third Law? Yes, Miss Granger?"
Hermione's hand had shot into the air. Slughorn had barely finished pronouncing her name before she said, all in one breath, "Golpalott's Third Law states that the antidote for a blended potion will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components."
"Very good! Ten points to Gryffindor," Slughorn said before continuing on with his instructions for the day's lesson.
Hermione cast a smug smile toward Harry, clearly checking to see if he had been paying attention to her success. Harry could guess what she was thinking. He wasn't able to follow a word of Slughorn's lecture. He gathered that they were supposed to create an antidote for one of the poisons contained in a phial on Slughorn's desk. Each one was unique to the last, so copying another student's work would be impossible. Without the slightest understanding of the principals involved in poisons and antidote brewing, Harry wasn't likely to succeed in this lesson, not with all the tips he could glean from "The Half-Blood Prince."
Praying that Millie was having more luck talking with Hermione than he was having in understanding the lecture, Harry began to rifle through the pages of his textbook. He felt certain that Snape, the student who had grown to replace Slughorn as Potions Master, would know something about antidotes. To his chagrin, he found only a single line, scrawled above a long list of known antidotes…
Just shove a bezoar down their throats.
"What's a bezoar?" he asked Nell in an undertone.
She was studiously decanting her poison into several different phials. Apparently, she also possessed some understanding of Golpalott's Third Law.
"It's a stone taken from the stomach of a goat," Nell replied distractedly. She was focused on not upsetting her poison as she dribbled a few drops of clear liquid from her cauldron into the first of her phials. "It's usually made up of hair or vegetable fibers that can't be digested. It's a nuisance to Muggles, of course, but I've heard that wizards use it as an antidote to most…" She paused, her hand hovering in the air, stalled in the act of testing more of her poison samples. Then she looked at Harry, her eyes growing wide with realization as she concluded, "Poisons! Harry, no. You're not going to do what I think…"
Harry merely grinned at her, then dashed across the room toward the storage cupboard. He was out of ideas, and no amount of coaching from Nell was going to help him now. Slughorn's esteem for him was on the line, and he wasn't about to lose his favor when he had an important mission to complete.
While the rest of class began adding their antidote ingredients to their cauldrons, some with confidence, some with a prayer, Harry began searching through pouches of powdered unicorn horn, bunches of dried herbs, and jars containing eye of newt. Finally, he found a single cardboard box, shoved almost to the very back of the shelves, on which the word "bezoars" had been crudely written on the side.
The contents rattled as Harry snatched the box. He opened the flimsy lid and saw that the bezoars looked more like shriveled, dried kidneys than stones. Trying not to think about where they had once been, Harry seized one, returned the box to the cupboard, and took his place at his unused cauldron just as Slughorn called out a warning that class was coming to an end.
"You're mad," Nell warned him while she frantically stirred the syrupy, emerald green antidote in her cauldron.
Blaise merely looked at him, confusion on his face as he wondered what Harry had planned. His own dark red antidote seemed to have congealed in his cauldron. He was busy scraping a sample off the side with the tip of his wand.
Slughorn made his way leisurely around the room, inspecting the contents of each cauldron. It seemed that no one had truly finished their task within the allotted time, though Hermione's brackish, sickly yellow concoction had come the closest. Those seated at her table seemed to have benefitted from her instruction, for they didn't have to hold their breath from any putrid fumes issuing from their cauldrons, Ernie Macmillan's group did.
Slughorn seemed to be saving the best for last, as he slowly made his way toward Harry's table, observing first Nell, then Blaise, before turning to Harry.
"And now, m'boy," he said, "What have you got to show me?"
Harry smiled and held out his hand, displaying the bezoar sitting in his palm.
There was a moment of profound silence. Several students stood on tip-toe, craning their necks to get a glimpse of what had dumbfounded their professor. Then Slughorn threw back his head and laughed.
"You've got nerve, boy!" he boomed, taking the bezoar between his thumb and forefinger and holding it up for the bewildered class to see. "Oh, you are like your mother! Well, I certainly can't fault you for that... A bezoar would most assuredly act as an antidote to all of the poisons presented today!"
Hermione, sweaty and covered in soot from her potion brewing, looked absolutely livid.
"Yes, it's that sort of individual spirit and creative thinking that a true potions master really needs!" Slughorn continued, still chortling to himself. "Ten points to Slytherin for sheer cheek!"
Hermione stormed out as their class came to an end. Millie caught Harry's eye, giving him an unpromising shake of her head, though she pursued Hermione from the room, likely to continue the conversation they had started during class.
"Why set us a task he knew we would fail?" Blaise complained as he hefted his bag onto his shoulder, "Isn't it a teacher's job to instruct? Every class with him is like some stupid little competition!"
"He set an essay to research antidotes last week," Nell reminded Blaise with a slight smirk.
"Oh right... I didn't do that one."
Nell laughed and said, "Well, I suppose I could tutor you, if you like… Coming, Harry?"
Harry waved them away. Blaise and Nell could flirt as much as they liked with out him acting as third wheel. Instead, he set his sights on Slughorn. He had worked the professor into a cheerful mood, and it seemed like as good a time as any to approach the subject of horcruxes with him.
And yet Harry hardly knew what he should say. He didn't think he could pull off Blaise's natural charm, and he certainly didn't possess any of the young Tom Riddle's cunning…
"Still here, m'boy?" Slughorn asked, snapping shut the golden latches of his antique briefcase as he prepared to leave. "Better push on. You don't want to be late for your next lesson."
"Sir, I wanted to ask you something," said Harry. The recollection of the boy he had seen in the tampered memory had given him an idea. With that conversation still fresh in his mind, he thought he adopted a fair imitation of the teenage Voldemort.
Slughorn did not appear to notice anything amiss in his demeanor, however. The request was common enough. He had likely heard the same phrase from hundreds of students over his long career. But Harry's affected manner as he pronounced the next words could not but raise painful memories.
"Sir, I wondered what you know about Horcruxes?"
Slughorn froze. His face turned ashen gray. He licked his lips before replying in a slightly hoarse voice, "What did you say?"
Unfortunately, this was as far as the tampered memory had allowed Harry to see. He couldn't keep up this bit of imitating Voldemort. Instead, Harry opted for Blaise's more direct assault, and settled for a half-truth.
"Dumbledore mentioned something about them, but he won't tell me what they are. I thought that you, sir, might be able to tell me…"
"Oh, so he put you up to this!" Slughorn reprimanded, immediately growing angry, "So he's shown you that… That memory, has he? Well, you can tell him that it's no use asking students to be his spies! I've already shown him all I know… That's all!"
Harry could tell he'd already lost whatever edge he'd gained with the bezoar. In a last, desperate attempt to pull at Slughorn's heartstrings, Harry said, "Sir, it isn't like that! It's just… It was a horcrux that killed my godfather, Sirius… Please, sir… Dumbledore won't tell me anything, but I need to know!"
Slughorn looked slightly less huffy, but all he said in reply was, "I was very sorry to hear about Sirius, Harry. Very sorry, indeed. But nothing I say will… I'm sorry, I cannot help you! I know nothing about it!"
He fled before Harry could question him further. Harry could have pursued him, but he remained in the empty classroom a few moments longer. Invoking Sirius's name had hurt him more than he expected. He was better than he had been at the start of summer, but a year had not passed since his godfather died. He felt as if he had ripped apart the stitches of a fresh wound.
Slughorn would not be as easy to crack as he had hoped. He would have to reconvene with Millie and Blaise later. With any luck, Millie would have more success with Hermione than he had with Slughorn. He needed her advice now more than ever.
If there was one silver lining to the thundercloud that seemed to be following Harry wherever he went, it was a renewed friendship with Theo Nott. During their Care of Magical Creatures lesson, the Gryffindor seemed irresolute about whether to join Harry and Millie as they collected freshly shed antlers from a flaggerdoot of jackalopes recently obtained by Hagrid.
Harry suspected the reason for this hesitation. No doubt Theo was questioning how Harry felt about him after he attended Slughorn's party with Hermione. But when Harry searched his own feelings, he found that he no longer felt betrayed by Theo. Where once there had been jealously, there was now only a sort of quiet curiosity. And so Harry beckoned Theo to join them with a smile, an offer that the Gryffindor accepted with a sigh of relief.
Eager to show Theo that he harbored no ill will, Harry took the earliest opportunity to casually ask, "So, you and Hermione? You look, er... Nice together."
Theo darted a nervous glance at Harry, but seeing that he bore no shadow of envy in his bright green eyes, he merely sighed again and said, "Um... Thanks. She's, y'know... Nice and all. Whip-smart, and all that…"
"But?" Harry asked, sensing there was more than embarrassment behind Theo's conflicted expression.
"But… Well, to be perfectly frank, I get the feeling she's not really over you, Harry. I like Hermione well enough, but I'm not anxious to rush into things with a girl who hasn't gotten over her ex."
Harry decided it would be best not to comment, and instead pivoted their conversation to a more general review of Slughorn's party. He expected Millie would not take an interest, given that she had declined Harry's invitation, but to his surprise, she interrupted their critique of Slughorn's taste in music to say, "I haven't heard much about the Slug Club since the new term began. Is he planning to host any more parties, soon?"
Theo looked thoughtful for a moment, then stated, "I'm not sure. To tell the truth, I only went because Hermione asked me. I don't think Slughorn's too keen on me since dad got thrown into Azkaban. I don't expect he'll change his mind."
"I haven't heard from him either," said Harry, with a significant glance at Millie. Though it had only been a few days since his failed attempt to speak with Slughorn, he couldn't help but construe the lack of dinner invitations to something insidious. Perhaps Slughorn was anxious to avoid another confrontation with Harry.
On Saturday, Harry placed his concerns on hold for their first Apparition lesson. Due to the weather, which had turned cold, dark, and stormy, they were granted special permission to practice inside the Great Hall. Normally Apparition was strictly prohibited within the castle and grounds, but for the purposes of their lesson, they would be able to give it a try, albeit within the confines of one room.
"Willoughby," Blaise greeted cordially as they all filed into the Great Hall.
"Zabini," Nell replied with the same affected indifference.
Though they had attended Slughorn's party together, and seemed to be on much friendlier terms than before, they had persisted with their old habit of addressing one another by their last names only. Harry couldn't tell if they were dating or not, and it seemed they preferred keeping it that way.
Harry ignored their polite conversation as he cast his eyes around the rest of the gathered sixth years. Ron was standing beside Lavender Brown, who seemed to be trying to interest him in a fanciful hair clip she was wearing, without much success. Draco was standing beside them, chatting with Theo, who met Harry's eye with a friendly nod. Harry couldn't help but notice that Hermione was not with him today, though he soon spotted her standing toward the very front of the crowd, nervously muttering to Neville.
The students were all arranged in front of the four Heads of the Hogwarts Houses. A small wizard, who Harry took to be their Apparition instructor, stood beside them. He was an oddly colorless man, with transparent eyelashes, wispy white hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Harry wondered if his appearance made him more compatible with the art of Apparition, then considered the possibility that a lifetime of teaching this skill came with side-effects.
"Good afternoon," said the small wizard, in a strong voice that seemed to belie his slight appearance. "My name is Wilkie Twycross. I will be your instructor on the art of Apparition, and by extension, Disapparition. You have…"
"Goyle! Pay attention!" snapped Professor McGonagall.
Harry whipped his head around. Goyle was standing toward the back of the room. With a sulky expression, he stepped away from Crabbe, who was looking mutinous. While Professor Twycross continued his instruction, as though he had not been interrupted, Harry turned back to face the front of the room, his gaze seeking Snape. He found the professor staring at Goyle with a frown, though what was going through his head was, as usual, difficult to fathom.
"Now then," said Professor Twycross at the conclusion of his brief introduction, "I would like you all to reposition yourselves so that you have a clear space of five feet ahead of you. No one attempt to disapparate until my signal!"
There was a noisy bustling as every student readjusted themselves. Harry took advantage of the momentary chaos to distance himself from Millie, taking a space close to Crabbe and Goyle, instead.
The pair hadn't noticed him. Under cover of the chattering, jostling students, they had resumed their squabble.
"I don't know how much longer it'll be," said Goyle thickly. "The instructions from that idiot at Borgin and Burke are useless."
"You just want all the glory for yourself!" Crabbe spat, "If you'd just tell me what you've got going on in there…"
Their conversation was cut short as Professor Twycross once again began his instruction, calling for everyone's attention. Harry cursed the interruption. He gathered from what Crabbe said that he didn't fully understand what it was Goyle was planning. If he just had a few moments more, Goyle might have let something slip…
"Now then," said Twycross with enthusiasm, "There are three things you must bear in mind when apparating. I call them the Three D's: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation. Observe."
Twycross lifted his arms and turned on the spot, vanishing in a blink, only to reappear across the room. The assembled students gave an appreciative smattering of applause as he apparated back to his starting place once more. After more instruction, they were all given permission to begin.
Unfortunately, though the demonstration had been impressive, the rest of their first class yielded no results. The only exciting moment came when Susan Bones splinched herself in an attempt, and had to receive first-aid from their Heads of House, who descended on her in a moment, then bore her from the Great Hall, shaken and sobbing.
By the end of class, not one student had managed to successfully apparate. In his case, Harry wasn't surprised. He couldn't keep The Tree D's in mind while consumed with curiosity over what Goyle and Crabbe were plotting. He hoped that they might resume their conversation during the class, but Crabbe had sunk into a sullen silence, and Goyle was red in the face from concentrating too hard on his attempts to apparate.
"Why don't you check the map?" suggested Millie when Harry told her about their conversation after class. "Crabbe made it sound like Goyle was sneaking off somewhere, right?"
"Good idea!" said Harry, immediately withdrawing the parchment. Like his invisibility cloak, he had developed the habit of carrying it with him at all times. Kicking himself for not thinking of this sooner, he directed his wand at the blank page and announced, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Predictably, the map showed only that Crabbe and Goyle were making their way back toward the Slytherin common room, along with several other Slytherins. Disappointed, Harry muttered, "Mischief managed," and stowed the map away again, though he promised himself to keep a close eye on the pair from now on.
Harry kept this promise, but over the ensuing days, he was struck by how very little time Crabbe and Goyle were spending together. Perhaps their argument in the Great Hall had been the last straw, and the pair had a falling out.
This seemed like the most plausible explanation, and if they were both easy to track using the map, albeit in separate locations, Harry would have been satisfied. However, he soon realized that while it was easy enough to spot Crabbe, often sitting alone in their dormitory or loitering by himself in an empty corridor, he could not always find Goyle.
Was he leaving Hogwarts, as Dumbledore often did? If so, how? If his performance in their subsequent Apparition lessons was any indicator, he certainly wasn't disapparating from the grounds. Besides, he wouldn't be able to apparate at all outside the Great Hall. Perhaps there was a secret passage leading outside the gates, like the passage underneath the Whomping Willow, though Harry thought it was unlikely that the Marauders failed to discover a passage matching that description.
Out of ideas and looking for support, he decided to consult Draco on the matter. But when confronted with Harry's suspicions, Draco merely shrugged. He wasn't sure what his old cronies were up to, these days. It was his current friendships that demanded his attention.
"Can you think of anything I could get Ron for his birthday?" he asked instead of replying to Harry's repeated inquiries about Goyle.
Harry marveled at this sudden question, and asked with some exasperation, "I'm trying to tell you that Goyle found a way to sneak in and out of Hogwarts, and you're looking for birthday gifts?"
Draco, looking slightly ashamed, mumbled, "Well… We still haven't told him about me and Ginny…"
"And you think a present will stop him from pummeling you when he finds out?" asked Harry. He sounded incredulous, but ironically, Draco reminded him of himself, back when he thought a gift might stop Hermione from breaking up with him.
"Maybe a party would be better?" Draco said, wringing his hands as he paced around their dormitory, "You'd come to a surprise party in Hogsmeade, wouldn't you?"
"Hang on..." said Harry slowly, "You're not thinking of telling him during the party, are you? Because if you are, I'll definitely be there. I can't wait to see the look on his face."
Draco argued that he merely wanted to do something nice for Ron's seventeenth birthday, but all of his carefully laid plans were for nothing. The first of March arrived, and with it came an announcement that all future trips to Hogsmeade would be canceled.
Draco was not the only one suffering from bitter disappointment. Though Blaise did not say as much to Harry, he suspected that he had planned to ask Nell to accompany him on the next trip to the village. He protested loudly against the cancellation, ignoring Harry's subdued remarks that it made sense, after what happened to Katie Bell.
"As if anyone would be stupid enough to accept any more suspicious packages after that!" Blaise exclaimed as they stormed into their dormitory. He seized a heart-shaped box of chocolates from the edge of Draco's bed before throwing himself petulantly across the mattress, tearing a pink ribbon from the packaging.
"She might have been under the Imperius Curse, you know. It could've happened to anyone... And that's probably a gift for Ginny," Harry warned with an ironic smile.
"I don't care! I need consoling!" Blaise complained, stuffing a chocolate truffle his mouth, "At least Draco can host his stupid party in the Room of Requi..."
Harry had been in the process of pulling off his school robes, but paused when Blaise trailed off mid-sentence. A strange look had come over his face. He looked both bemused and enraptured.
"What a fool I've been…" he said softly, allowing the box of chocolates to fall from his grasp. The individual truffles hit the floor and rolled in all directions. Blaise didn't seem to notice as he continued to speak in the same hushed tone, "Sitting here like this, when she's only moments away! She's the most perfect girl in the world... Oh, Harry! I've been so blind! If only I could see her now!"
"Er… I'm glad you like Nell so much, but you'll see her tomorrow…" Harry replied awkwardly. He was happy to hear Blaise confirm the depth of his feelings, but he wasn't eager to hear Blaise wax poetic about it.
"Who?" Blaise asked, gawking at Harry as though he was speaking a foreign language.
"Nell? Nell Willoughby? The girl you've been… er… talking to?" Harry said.
"Willoughby? Why are you talking about Willoughby?"
"Isn't that who we're talking about?" asked Harry.
"No! Who could ever think of Willoughby when she exists," Blaise replied with a dreamy expression on his face.
"Blaise, let's be perfectly clear," Harry said sternly. He was beginning to have a presentment that something was seriously wrong with his friend, "Who are you talking about?"
"Pansy!" cried Blaise. "Who else could I mean?"
"Pansy Parkinson?!" Harry gasped in disbelief. His gaze fell on the discarded box of chocolates and its innocent-looking treats. Blaise had fallen for a trap that had been set for Draco. It was the only explanation.
"Blaise, come with me…" Harry said cautiously, "We'll go see Millie, she'll know what to do."
"But I don't want to see Millie!" Blaise complained, "I want to see…"
"Pansy, I know," interrupted Harry. "But Millie shares a room with her, remember? Maybe she'll ask Pansy to come down and talk to you?"
The bribe worked, and soon Harry had led Blaise into the common room, where they found Millie reading a book on Ancient Runes. Of course, Harry had no intention of subjecting Blaise to the humiliation of facing Pansy Parkinson in this state. He still didn't know if the chocolates had been planted by her, or if this was another of Crabbe and Goyle's pranks. Either way, he hoped that Millie would know some way to cure the effects of a love potion. Instead, she burst out laughing.
"Oh boy, he's really got it bad, huh?" she said once she stifled her giggles, "Just let the potion run its course, Harry. I'll have a word with Pansy later."
"But we don't know how long he'll be like this!" Harry protested as Blaise attempted to run up the girls staircase, only to come cascading back down as the steps reformed into a smooth chute.
"Well, I suppose you could take him to Snape," Millie suggested as Blaise came sliding toward her feet, still calling out for his beloved Pansy.
Her suggestion gave Harry a better idea. This gave him a perfect excuse for getting close to Slughorn again.
With Millie's help, Harry was able to convince Blaise that Pansy was not in the girls' dormitory, but that she had gone to Slughorn's office "just a moment ago." Fortunately, the love potion seemed to make Blaise gullible, as well as infatuated. Blaise asked very few questions before eagerly following Harry out the door, eager to meet the love of his life in Slughorn's office.
They had just mounted the staircase leading from the dungeons when a familiar voice called out. Groaning internally, Harry turned to face the one person he had much rather not see Blaise at this critical juncture.
"Hey, Harry! Zabini…" Nell greeted, "I was just on my way to the library. Fancy a study session? Flitwick's essay…"
Blaise uttered a moan in frustration, interrupting Nell mid-sentence as he said, "We haven't got time for this! She might already have left!"
Nell raised her brows at this profound rudeness. "Who are you talking about?"
"Pansy Parkinson!" Blaise said, a rapturous sigh on his lips. "I have to see her… She needs to know how I feel!"
"Does she now?" Nell asked coolly.
"Sorry about this," Harry said in an undertone while Blaise continued to express his undying adoration for a girl who, only moments before, would not have attracted the slightest notice from him. "He got into a love potion. I think it was meant for Draco…"
"I see…" said Nell, whose insulted expression was quickly replaced by one of grim amusement.
"I was about to take him to Slughorn. See if we can't get him sorted out," Harry explained. "Do you want to join us?"
"No need," said Nell, "Actually, I've got an errand to run. See you later."
Harry suspected that Nell's "errand" was really delivering a swift hex to Pansy's pug-like face, but he kept his suspicions to himself as they continued their journey to Slughorn's office. He was glad he sought help, after all. Rather than becoming calm, Blaise's symptoms seemed to be intensifying with time. He was in a frenzy to see Pansy, nearly tearing down Slughorn's office door to get inside as Harry politely knocked.
Harry nearly expected Slughorn to turn him away, but one look at Blaise's sublime expression and a few whispered words from Harry was enough for the professor to admit them into his office, asking as he did so, "Was this potion within date? They can strengthen, you know, the longer they're kept. But if it's expired, well then… We might be looking at symptoms more akin to savage obsession, rather than infatuation."
"You can help him, can't you sir?" Harry asked desperately. Blaise was busy casting his eyes around the office. Any moment now, he would realize he had been tricked, and Harry did not relish the fight that would ensue.
"But of course," Slughorn said, opening his personal potion making kit, and adding a few pinches of powdered ingredients to a small crystal glass. "Though I must say, Harry. An expert potion maker like you… I would have expected you to be able to whip this up."
Harry made no reply to this comment. He merely watched as Slughorn passed the glass to Blaise, now filled with a clear liquid, and advised him, "Here, my boy. Drink up. It's a tonic for the nerves. Keep you calm when your beloved… um, what's-her-name arrives."
"Pansy," Blaise insisted before downing the drink in one long draught. For a moment, he beamed with the pleasant anticipation of his loved one's arrival. Then the grin sagged and vanished, to be replaced by an expression of utmost horror.
"What have I… And in front of… Oh, no!"
With a cry of anguish, Blaise threw himself dramatically against the cushions of Slughorn's couch, moaning that he would never forgive Pansy if she affected his chances with Nell.
Slughorn gave a great laugh. "Well, I think Mr. Zabini could use a pick-me-up after this adventure! Let me see here… butterbeer… Too common, I think. There's wine… Or this oak-matured mead… hm, I meant to give this to Dumbledore for Christmas… Ah, well. He won't miss what he never had…"
Slughorn shrugged as he unstopped the cork from the bottle and poured three glasses of amber liquid. Harry accepted his glass gratefully. He was not only glad to have Blaise restored to his usual self, though perhaps a little more morose, it was a relief to see Slughorn acting so friendly toward him, as well. Perhaps he had forgotten about their past confrontation, after all.
While Slughorn searched for the appropriate toast, Harry considered when would be an appropriate time to approach the subject of the horcruxes again. It might not be wise to mention it in front of Blaise. Slughorn would most likely feel self-conscious in front of a witness, though Blaise's thoughts seemed miles away. Staring mournfully at the intricate carpet below his feet, Blaise threw back his head, and downed his glass of mead before Slughorn had concluded his short speech.
There was a beat in which Harry knew something had gone horribly wrong. Before he could say a word, however, Blaise had dropped his glass, letting the crystal shatter against the floor. He slid from the couch, falling to ground, his arms and legs jerking uncontrollably. Foam began to drip from the side of his mouth. His eyes bulged from their sockets.
"Blaise!" Harry said, falling to his knees beside his friend, though he was afraid to touch him. "Professor, do something!"
But Slughorn seemed paralyzed with shock. He looked from his glass of mead to the boy writhing on his floor with a look of complete horror and amazement. Harry didn't appeal to him a second time. He had already launched himself off the floor, across a low table, and to Slughorn's open potion kit. He began pulling out jars and pouches at random, while the sound of Blaise's horrible, gargling breath sounded in his ears.
Then it found it. A tiny, shriveled stone… The same one Harry had presented to Slughorn during class.
He hurtled back to Blaise's side, wrenched open his jaw, and thrust the bezoar as far down his throat as he could, praying all the while that he wouldn't accidentally choke his friend. Blaise gave a great shudder, a dry gasp, and this his body became limp and still.