SO THERE IS AN ACCEPTABLE EXPLANATION AS TO WHY ITS TAKEN ME ALMOST A YEAR TO UPDATE. My account was being weird. Like, a month passed before I was actually going to update but then like my account wouldn't upload anything to the Doc Manager? And it was super weird, the page went completely blank every time. SO, then I emailed the staff but I never got a reply and I tried very often and it just didn't work?
But then on a whim I decided to try today (I may or may not have an exam this afternoon) and it did! So, here you go! Please don't hate me!
To say that Tonks was upset would be an understatement. It would be that because watching her parents pack up their bags and cover all their furniture and boxes full of other belongings with blankets was something far worse than upsetting. The war wasn't even in full swing yet, but it was already dangerous enough to force her father into hiding. And her father's situation was still not the most terrible out there, many people had it worse, but her parents said waiting wouldn't be smart. There was a shelter and it was best to get in before the crowds started rushing in.
At least, that was how mom had put it.
Andromeda hadn't wanted to tell her where the hideout was or how dad was getting there, but Tonks had a few ideas. She hadn't forgotten about the twins' insistent whispers, even if she hadn't talked to them about it since then. She'd had her head in other matters and she hadn't thought it'd be necessary to hide her dad so soon. Clearly, her mother had disagreed.
Tonks knew the way to the hideout was through the twins. There were few things she wanted to do more right now than striding straight in their shop and demanding to be told everything about everything they knew and were involved in, but mom hadn't wanted to tell her even who had contacted her. There had to be a reason for that, and she wanted to find out what. She knew her mother better than to think the woman did anything without knowing exactly what she was getting herself into. She hadn't survived growing up with with Bellatrix Black for nothing.
Speaking of her mother, Tonks was mature enough to not be bothered by her mother moving in with her in her apartment. It'd be cramped, as it was a one bedroom deal, but they'd survive it. It was better than staying at the house, which would just remind them of her father's absence. And their address was public knowledge too, there was also that. Nothing like a target painted on your back to convince you to pack your things and take off.
When Ted finished packing he went to the front door, standing in the threshold and looking back inside with a wistful look in his eyes. It felt an awful lot like saying goodbye, permanently, but Tonks knew it'd be alright now. Dad would come back, no matter what. That's what the safe haven was for, after all.
She and her mother waited patiently on the front lawn until he turned back to them, wandering over slowly with a suitcase in his hands. He said he was only allowed a suitcase of a certain size so he'd needed an extension charm on the inside. There were too many people otherwise, he'd been told, and not enough space. If that was how things were already then Tonks didn't want to know how crowded it would get once the war got truly bad.
He cast them both a sad smile, extending a hand to Andromeda, which she took and squeezed. "Well, this is goodbye."
"We'll see you soon, love." Andromeda told him earnestly. "It won't take that long. You'll see."
Ted let out a huff which was almost a laugh. "You don't know that, but it's good to hope." He paused and looked at his hand, which was intertwined with his wife's. Then he looked at Tonks, eyes travelling around her face for a while until he met her eyes. He gave her a sad smile and placed his free hand on one of her cheeks. "I love you both so much. Promise me you'll be safe."
Tonks' face scrunched up and she took a few steps closer, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I promise, as much as I can." She inhaled deeply, letting the safe smell of her father wash over her. "I love you too, dad."
Anna watched quietly as Vincent heaved her trunk unto one of the racks overhead, back turned to the windows through which the busy platform could still be seen. Her aunt had already left; she'd gone as soon as Anna and Draco had stepped onto the train. Nothing else on that platform was of any importance to her. There were other students scurrying about, chatting and yelling and saying their goodbyes to their families and their hellos to their friends. Tearful farewells, sure, but that was only to be expected. These were dangerous times, she would be more interested in watching them if they weren't worried.
With a smile, she stepped into the compartment when her larger friend was done. By the windows sat Pansy and Daphne, Greg and Blaise beside them respectively. Vince took his seat again, between Greg and Draco, leaving only one spot open for Anna; between Blaise and Theo. It was a crowded compartment to be sure, but that was how it had been since first year. Unfortunately, there were quite a few other differences from first year.
The girl peeled her thin cloak from herself, revealing a short-sleeved dress that did nothing to hide her Dark Mark. Much like Draco and Theo's shirts. Anna had decided to cast a notice-me-not charm, as she usually did, but she was done with long sleeves. It was too hot and she was too tired to be uncomfortable. There were such things as memory charms, should anyone enter their carriage before she could turn her arm. Pansy had complained, saying that it was too blasé of her to rely on complicated charms in such a case, but Anna was frankly too busy and too tired to constantly think about her sleeves.
When she sat down her friends, who had been waiting patiently, turned to her with expectant expressions. She had to laugh. "Well, this certainly has been a productive summer, hasn't it? Three hundred already in hiding and spreading over the houses in the rest of mainland Europe. Increasing almost daily."
"And so far we've hit no snags with any businesses that had promised to provide aid for the refugees." Daphne informed everyone. "They're doing a lot, but it's seemingly worth the cost. The amount of public recognition they will receive after the war will be substantial."
"I, however, have hit a snag." Blaise huffed from beside her. "Since the twins left, we've had no one to watch Potter, as you insist we should. I've put most of my spies on watching Dumbledore and keeping the rest of the school functioning harmoniously but… well, there's not all that many people that can take up this job. We have the Hufflepuffs in our year, but the lions would become suspicious and start snooping around as they're prone to do... so that's a no go. Marietta is familiar with them but after the ordeal last year they wouldn't look too kindly to her being anything more than civil to them."
"And I assume you have a solution?" Anna asked.
"Well, sort of. MacLaggen wanted a shot at it; somehow he's of the opinion that he can somehow charm Granger like he does with most girls. I disagree, Granger's too smart to fall for that-"
"And even if she weren't; have you seen how she looks at Weasley?" Daphne snorted.
Anna hushed her with a barely suppressed grin. "Go on, Blaise."
The boy in question winked at his girlfriend before turning back to the conversation. "I am working on how to get eyes into Potter's group when Cormac's attempts unavoidably fail. But so far I've only been able to come up with a very… complicated solution."
"Which is?"
"Their year-mates." Blaise shrugged. "Brown and Patil both resent you, for some reason, so that's a not going to work. Unless we somehow manage to magically turn them into your friends, which is a joke, do not take that as a challenge Anna. The most we would be able to manage in a whole year would be neutrality. That won't work for this. Then there's Thomas, but with him comes Finnegan. And they're both extremely loyal to Potter; any whiff of foul play, such as is inevitable with us, would turn them against us. They have each other to work themselves up into a fit, should we misstep enough there's no telling what they would do. Besides, all that do-gooding would be more useful elsewhere."
Anna shut her eyes with a groan. "That leaves Neville."
"Exactly. I know your opinion on him is rooted in your… special situation. But it would be extremely risky to even attempt to approach him." He started counting on his fingers. "He's loyal beyond doubt to Harry, he's smart -believe it or not, it's just pressure what makes him seem like a dolt- and he won't stand to be lied to, we're already straining credulity with you being a sixteen-year-old marked Lestrange Death Eater trying to do good, let alone how negatively he would feel after finding out how much of a hand we had in last year's events. And last but most definitely not least; you look exactly like your mother and we all know that he doesn't have the best history with her. Getting him to listen to you, to not tell Potter, to believe you and then to help would be a miracle."
"And yet." Pansy piped up. "You managed it with Fred and George."
"The twins were a different case altogether." Anna shook her head. "At this point Brown and Patil would be easier to convince."
She paused for a second as the screeching of the train coming into motion became too loud to be heard over. The shouting in the corridor and on the platform had reached an all time high. It was a good thing all carriages had silence and privacy charms on them.
"First of all, they thrive in confrontations. And second of all, I don't recall my parents ever torturing their parents into a St. Mungo's ward, do you?" She finished.
"But Longbottom is much more approachable with this than the other four." Draco insisted. "And if anyone understands working your way past public expectations, it's him, right? I mean, I never thought he'd hold out against real Death Eaters, but he didn't die last year, now did he? That's the kid who lost control of his broom and broke his wrist in first year. The one who got a remembrall and still couldn't make heads or tails of anything."
"Think about it this way." Blaise continued. "If it doesn't work, everything goes to shit. If it works, which is less likely but still more likely than the other options, you'll both be one step closer to working through you mommy and daddy issues."
Anna slapped his arm. "Somehow, I feel ambushed."
"That's because you were, we spent the whole of last week discussing this behind your back." Blaise smirked, not entirely joking. "That's what we're here for. Fixing problems."
"And bullying me into taking the option you deem best?" She scowled.
"Oh, yes, poor Anna. She suffers from peer pressure." Daphne laughed causing said girl to give a begrudging smile.
"Alright, you've had your fun." She chuckled. "Now, last minute development for you all to keep into account- and by you I mean Blaise and Daphne. Again. Sorry."
They groaned in unison. "What now?" The blonde girl asked.
"Well, I'd do it myself if I could. Or ask any of us but you to do it, since you're so busy, but we can't. Not me because I live with Draco, and the Malfoys are Death Eaters so they're out too. And so is Theo. And so are Pansy, Greg, and Vince. But you two- you're still squeaky clean… Relatively speaking."
"What is it?"
"The new potions professor. Get close to him, charm him. Godfather wants something with him. He wants me to either coax him over to our side or to wipe his memory of anything that has anything to do with him."
"Which are you going to do?" Theo asked her.
"Neither. I don't know yet, actually, I've got time. We'll see how it goes. There's something else I will be handling before that." Anna shrugged. "For now, just keep him close."
"And why us? Why not-?"
At that point there was a knock on the compartment door and the three marked teenagers turned their arms around right before a younger student came inside. A Ravenclaw, possibly a fourth year.
"Isaac. What brings you here?" Blaise asked him, lips dangerously close to a scowl. "Marietta's the one-"
"I know." The boy hurriedly nodded. "But Professor Slughorn wanted me to give this to you and Daphne." He held out two slender scrolls tied with emerald ribbons.
Blaise grabbed them and passed the one labelled D.G. to his girlfriend. He turned his own over in his hand. "I see. Thank you, Isaac. You can go."
After a hurried nod and a blushing look shot at Daphne, the boy hurried away.
"That's why." Anna told them with a faux-angelic smile. "He collects well connected young witches and wizards. I'm sure you can handle him."
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat as more and more students entered Slughorn's compartment. It wasn't that other students made him nervous, it was which students came in that didn't sit well with him. Neville was alright and the boy introduced as Marcus Belby, who had already been seated when Harry and his dorm mate came in, looked harmless enough. Cormac MacLaggen, however, had been eyeing him in a near predatory manner, and the entrance of Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass -a couple that seemed to look down their noses at the entire school- had not made things any easier either. They might have pretended otherwise, but Harry knew they were part of An- Lestrange's crowd. They might have refused to greet any of them out of house principles, but Harry could tell they were watching every move they made. Even here, she had eyes.
A small comfort came in the form of Ginny, who came in like a whirlwind of fiery hair and freckles and took a seat between Harry and Cormac, giving the eldest boy a challenging look. She had always been tough -growing up with so many troublesome brothers demanded it- and never backed down from anyone, something Harry also rarely did... but recently he'd been finding it harder to find the fire for such boldness. He was angry, sure, indignant and betrayed but he was also tired and disappointed and hurt. It was hard to find the energy to keep his chin up, particularly now that they were going back to school.
Over the course of last year, Hogwarts had become hers. And sure, now that would be less since Dumbledore was back. But only to a certain extent.
Then Professor Slughorn, who had been merrily introducing them all to each other, leaned back in his seat and sighed contentedly. "Well, now, this is most pleasant. A chance to get to know each other a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy in Licorice Wands, and an old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things-"
As he babbled he reached into a large basket and started passing napkins and eating utensils around. Then he reached further into the basket and pulled out a large food container.
"Pheasant, Belby?" He offered the pudgy boy, and at his nod served him half a cold pheasant. Then he turned to everyone else. "I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his uncle Damocles-" He started passing around a small basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin quite deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"
Marcus, who had been busy eating his pheasant, choked, prompting the professor to point his want at him and relieve him of the issue. The simple spell cleared his airways and the man waited patiently for the boy to catch his breath again.
"Not… not much of him, no." Marcus finally said with streaming eyes.
"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy." Slughorn questioned, eyes a bit too intense for the poor boy to meet. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane potion without considerable hard work!"
"I suppose." The boy agreed, seemingly too nervous to continue eating. "But he and my dad don't get on so well, you see, so I don't really know much about-"
Without sparing him another glance, the professor turned to the eldest Gryffindor in the room, prompting everyone else to do so as well. McLaggen hadn't been looking at Belby, but rather Zabini and Greengrass, and seemed rather startled when they suddenly turned to him.
"Now you, Cormac." The boy turned a newly impassive face to his teacher. "I happen to know you see a lot of your uncle Tiberius because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"
"Oh, yes, that was loads of fun, that was." He answered. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour -before he became Minister, obviously-"
"Oh, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" Slughorn beamed, passing a small tray of tarts around yet somehow skipping Belby.
Harry had been expecting this, of course. Ever since Professor Dumbledore had told him about Slughorn's collecting habits he'd know the returning professor would attempt to lure all the well connected students to himself. But it was a surprise for him to start so soon. He hadn't even waited for classes to start, not even for them to arrive at the School!
As he listened he also found out that Greengrass was the heir to a magical object manufacturing business -Magical Green, they'd called it- and she called the werewolf legislation 'unfortunate' because it made their business lose a lot of relatively cheap labour. Harry would have snapped at her if Ginny hadn't grabbed his arm, though he supposed that was for the best. Fighting with her could bring about all sorts of consequences.
Zabini's story was also interesting. His mother seemed to be a cutthroat advocate -which Harry assumed was the wizarding equivalent of a lawyer- and also a famously beautiful witch who'd been mysteriously widowed seven times. Each time being left with hoards of wealth. If Harry wasn't very much mistaken, Zabini sounded almost proud.
But then things got gradually worse; starting with Slughorn interviewing Neville, whose only reason for being there was that his parents had been famous aurors… right before being tortured to insanity. The stilted conversation left Harry with an off taste in his mouth and a desire to just get up and leave, preferably dragging Neville along with him. Though he was forced to reenter the conversation again when the old Professor turned to him, large smile already in place. Harry had already had first hand experience with the man's boisterous personality, yet it made the prospects for the next discussion to be a pleasant one no more likely.
"Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel like we barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!" He watched Harry for a long moment, eyes hungrily scanning his face for something Harry didn't quite understand. "The Chosen One, they're calling you now!"
Harry felt his face heat up at the words and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he sensed that the other inhabitants of the compartment were all watching him. He kept his eyes on Slughorn and tried to smile.
"Of course… there have been rumours for years." Slughorn watched him closely, trying to catch any reaction. "I remember well when- well, after that terrible night- Lily and James- and you survived. The word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary-"
There was a derisive snort somewhere around him, but when he looked in the direction from where it came both Zabini and Greengrass looked impassive. They were watching him closely with politely interested yet completely fake smiles. Greengrass' blue-green eyes blinking innocently at him but with a hint of amusement and Zabini's slender near-golden eyes holding thinly veiled contempt for him. For Harry, the reason as to why they seemed less than friendly towards him was no mystery, but for one or both of these two to lose their composure enough to snort… they seemed to feel more strongly than he'd though, or they took his actions more personally. Either way, it was strange.
Ginny didn't think they ought to get away with it, though. "Yeah, you two, because you're so talented… at posing!" Her glare was fierce, yet the two Slytherins met her eyes with unimpressed raised eyebrows.
"Oh, dear!" Slughorn chuckled, finally drawing his eyes away from Harry. "You want to be careful, children! I saw this young lady perform the most marvellous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"
Greengrass shot Ginny and award-winning smile, though to Harry it was obviously forced, and Zabini continued to look… somewhere between bored and contemptuous.
"Anyway," Slughorn called the attention back to himself, and his staring at Harry made them all quickly turn to him again. "Such rumours this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has its own print inaccuracies, they make mistakes… but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were in the thick of it all!"
Harry, strained smile still plastered on his face but a pool of uncertainty at how to handle the situation forming in his chest, didn't answer. He limited himself to nodding, choosing that to be the least harmful, non-lie response he could give. Even with the unreliable answer, Slughorn beamed at him.
"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond of you. You were there, then? But the rest of the stories are so… sensational! Of course, one doesn't know what to believe. This fabled prophesy for instance-"
"We never heard a prophesy." Neville chimed in, the bravery that had gotten him to speak up instantly evaporating as all the eyes in the room turned to him. He blushed and his lips clammed shut.
"That's right." Ginny took over. "Neville and I were both there too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual."
"You were both there too, were you?" The man gave the two an encouraging smile, but neither changed their expressions from the stony alarm they'd taken on. "Yes… well… the Prophet exaggerates, of course." From there he started to look a bit disappointed until the beaming smile grew once again and he started telling another story. "I remember dear Gwenog telling me -Gwenog Jones from the Holyhead Harpies, of course- that…"
From there Harry tuned the man out, eyes slowly losing and regaining focus as he looked around the room and occasionally nodded at some part of the story or some pause that left enough silence for a 'right' or an 'of course'. As the sunlight grew dimmer and dimmer he watched the two Slytherin slowly lose their upright holier than thou attitude and gain an amused holier than thou attitude instead. Now, every couple of minutes, one of them would turn to the other and whisper something in their ear, causing the other to smirk or chuckle or snicker. Greengrass said more, and every time she commented on something, Zabini's hand around hers would tighten for a second before releasing again. It was slightly hypnotising to watch, and more interesting than most of Slughorn's stories, but eventually that came to an end when the man clapped his hands.
"Well, it's getting dark already!" He laughed. "I didn't even notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd best go change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book about Nogtails. Harry, Blaise, Daphne, any time you're passing… And the same goes for you, miss Weasley." He beamed at Ginny. "Well, off you go, now!"
He shooed them all from the compartment and Harry stayed at the back, Neville and Ginny hanging around him. He watched as Belby slinked back to whatever carriage he'd been in before, somewhere in the back of the train. Then Zabini and Greengrass, hand in hand as always, let McLaggen pass -was it just Harry, or did McLaggen pass closer to them than necessary?- before they also strode away to their own compartment.
Harry, Neville, and Ginny started walking back down the corridor, following the two Slytherins.
"I'm glad that's over. Strange man, isn't he?" Neville muttered.
"Yes, I suppose." Harry answered, eyes boring into the back of the darker skinned boy's head. "How come you ended up there, Ginny?"
"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith. That idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the DA, remember?" She rolled her eyes. "He kept on bothering me about what'd happened at the Ministry. He annoyed me so much I ended up hexing him and when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention. Instead he just told me it'd been an 'exceptionally good' hex and invited me to lunch! Weird bloke."
"Yeah, still better than being invited because-" Harry cut himself off, an idea suddenly coming to him. His eyes trailed to the windows, studying the scenery to figure out how much of the journey was left. Not much, admittedly, but maybe enough. And he was bound to hear something that could be of use, right?
"I'll see you two later." He told his friends suddenly, reaching into his backpack where he'd taken to always carrying his Invisibility Cloak around.
"What are you doing?" Neville questioned him.
But he was cut off by Harry's rushed: "I'll tell you later!"
He followed as closely as he could, keeping his footsteps quiet. The couple in front of him was silent, arms entwined and sometimes peering into the carriages they passed. Even though the corridor was empty they refrained from talking, which was beyond strange. Harry's interest grew and he found himself anxious to arrive at their carriage already.
Finally they did, and Harry slipped inside right after Greengrass as Zabini held the door open for her. He hurried to stand at the inner end of the carriage, where Parkinson and Goyle were seated by the windows. Beside Goyle sat Crabbe and Malfoy, and beside Parkinson sat Lestrange and Nott. The two he'd followed took their seats facing each other on the outer ends.
"Took you long enough, what did you do all afternoon?" Malfoy scowled.
"Had tea. Heard boring stories." Daphne flipped her hair over her shoulder from beside him. "Why, did you want to join us, Draco?"
"Just tea? How tedious." Pansy rolled her eyes. "If that's all you have to do then it's like taking a break every once in a while."
"It's time we could be using to get everything done." Zabini countered, crossing his arms. "Why is this necessary anyway? It'd have been so easy to just say something to make him cut us off. Belby got lucky if you ask me, Daph."
At that, his girlfriend nodded.
"Well, think about it this way." Anna piped up from where she was leaning on Parkinson and had swung her legs over Nott's. "He has the potential to ruin the Dark Lord. Of course, it's improbable that he will, have you seen him? I've seen bowtruckles with more courage than him. But still, it'd be prudent to keep an eye on him."
"But why us? I mean, you said why the rest of you couldn't but…" Daphne sighed.
"Because- who else was there?" Lestrange asked.
"McLaggen, Belby, Longbottom, Potter, and the Weasley girl." Zabini counted out.
"That's why. None of them are part of us." Anna told them. "So just do as I ask. It won't be necessary all year, I promise. I need someone I can trust implicitly."
The two in question were quiet for a handful of seconds before begrudgingly nodding.
"One thing though…" Blaise sighed. "When we were talking, he mentioned an old friend and asked about him. Like, wanting to hear the truth. I couldn't deny it, could I? But I told him there were some private matters about it we could discuss at another time."
"And who's that?" Anna frowned, sitting up.
"He asked about Theo's father."
Nott made a choking noise, prompting Annabelle to soothe him gently and Malfoy to pass him a water bottle. As the boy drank, Zabini cast him a -was that sympathetic?- glance and patted his shoulder.
"What do you want me to say? It'd be easy to talk to him… tell him about Elbert's… behaviour, and get him to give Theo a chance." He spoke. "I need the time. If we can split the eye-keeping between the three of us and give the larger part to Theo -because we're not getting out so soon after getting in, there's no way he's letting us go- then I would be able to do everything else more efficiently." He eyed Nott, who was gaping at him with something close to horror in his gaze. "Sorry, mate. But we're all doing stuff we don't like overmuch."
"It's fine- I- yeah. If you can get him to do that then I…" He turned to Annabelle. "That'd be good, right?"
She looked at him for various moments before nodding. "Yeah. Alright. If you want to, it'd really help us all out."
"Don't worry about it, I've got this."
At Nott's reassuring smile, Anna leaned back on Parkinson, who immediately leaned her head on her friend. They were all being so casual that it made Harry slightly uncomfortable. They were talking about very serious things and yet they also took care of each other and teased each other in the mean time. It was so unlike the way Harry and his friends did things that it threw him through a slight loop. They were all so formal in public too, usually, that it was also very weird to see them behave this way. It was strange, is all, and he had a hard time feeling comfortable with it.
"Well, we'll be arriving soon. Best get changed." Malfoy got to his feet, grabbing a smaller shoulder bag from a hook by his head. "We're leaving the carriage to the girls, right?"
There was a murmur of assent around the compartment as the other four boys got to their feet, each reaching for a bag as they went. As they stepped outside, Harry had to work hard to not brush up against any of them, but succeeded. He followed them outside, taking his -probably- only chance to leave unnoticed before actually arriving. It would look suspicious if he was the only one at the school who didn't wear his uniform.
"Anna, you might want to look at that." Daphne suddenly spoke up.
All of them had been thoroughly concentrated on their dinner, not having any conversation topics to breach that could actually be discussed out in the open. Thus, they had all focussed on eating, not having even listened to Dumbledore's opening speech, merely halfheartedly whispering amongst themselves about trivial things. But at Daphne's words they all looked up to follow her gaze.
Dumbledore, who had risen to give his final speech of the night, had shook his long sleeves away from his hands, revealing a black and deadened right hand. He seemed to be ignoring it, though it certainly looked incredibly painful. And the Slytherins weren't the only ones that had noticed, a wave of whispers has swept over the Great Hall, no doubt discussing the latest development with the Headmaster.
Anna's eyebrows pulled together as she watched the limp hand's lack of dexterity. Even when he dismissed it with a smile and continued with his speech her eyes didn't waver. That looked not only painful but also quite dangerous, she could practically smell the dark magic pouring off of it. And if Dumbledore had gotten hurt this badly, why hadn't Snape reported it?
"- and Mr Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." The Headmaster had been saying, even through the continued worried conversations. "Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their heads of house as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise."
"Of course, since Jordan left." Draco rolled his eyes. The dark skinned boy had been commentator for every single Quidditch game since they'd been first years, many of them remembered with a jolt, and it'd be quite a quest to find someone up to scratch.
"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year; Professor Slughhorn." Said professor stood to accept the polite applause, then took a seat once more to let the Headmaster continue. "He is a former colleague of mine and he has agreed to resume his old post as Potions master."
As confusion flooded the room, Anna and her friends kept quiet. She'd guessed, of course, what Slughorn was meant for ever since she and her godfather had been told by Snape of his new position. She had, immediately, told her friends, who had been surprised about Dumbledore's choice. The decision to keep Snape out of DADA post was a clear one; he'd had too public an interest in the dark arts to allow him to have such a position. Clearly, he was being rewarded for something.
"Draco, while you're busy with the school, do me a favour and keep an eye on Severus." She told her cousin, even as Dumbledore continued to talk. "Clearly, he's doing something right in Dumbledore's book."
"Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts."
The complaints were loud and clamorous, but neither Dumbledore nor Snape seemed particularly bothered by it. Neither were the Slytherins, as they took the task of celebrating their head of house's transfer. Anna and her friends clapped enthusiastically, whistling along with their other house mates, who seemed dead set on making as much noise as possible, much to the chagrin of the students of the other houses.
Once Dumbledore put his hands up for silence, the students complied, but he didn't have Slytherin's house undivided attention. Many students, while quiet, distracted themselves otherwise, not believing the old man to have anything worthwhile to listen to. He wasn't looking out for their best interest, not the children of Death Eaters. But they kept quiet because Anna was listening to him, eyes flickering between the old man's face and his mutilated hand.
"I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure we remain safe. The castle's significant fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we still must guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you to, therefore, abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them -in particular the rule that states that you are not allowed to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your and others' safety."
After his long speech, Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the faces of the student mass, stopping for a second on Harry's face at the Gryffindor table, and another second on Anna's face at the Slytherin table. She met his eyes head on, trusting in the third-party wards around her mind to keep him out. There was no sign on his face to show that he'd collided with them, but there was no breach into her mind either. Perhaps he hadn't attempted to get in, or maybe he hadn't expected to be able to in the first place.
"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well rested for your lessons. I therefore say goodnight. Pip pip!" He shooed them off.
Anna got to her feet, inclining her head slightly sideways as Daphne came up behind her to whisper in her ear. Everyone would be staying in the common room, it's all arranged, she was informed. Draco and Pansy hurried away to gather the first years, herding them together to take them the long way around to the common room, ready to tell them the current house protocols. Blaise had vanished into the crowd, no doubt to confer with his little spies shortly before the start of the year once more. With all of them, not just his representatives from each house.
She linked her arm with her blonde friend, eye following her boyfriend's depart to discuss something with the seventh years, Greg going with him and Vince staying behind with Anna. Somehow it reminded her or the muggle movies she used to watch when she lived at the orphanage. Those crime movies the older kids used to put on the telly.
The meeting in the common room wasn't long, they were even done before Draco and Pansy had returned with the first years. All Anna had to say was that they shouldn't be hostile towards the other houses, it'd be counterproductive, and to not listen to Dumbledore; report things to her, Draco, or Theo first. She told them to try not to go out of the common room after hours, since it'd be hard for Snape to explain away all their rule breaking and that was best kept for those that had important things to do. And lastly, to no trust Snape implicitly, to not tell him any of this. His allegiance was not to them. Beside that, they'd all been approached the year before with what would be necessary from them, no more would be asked of them unless it was absolutely unavoidable.
Then the crowd dispersed, most passing by her chair to wish her goodnight to calling it out as they left, and Anna, Daphne, Theo, Greg, and Vince were left to wait for their three missing friends. They sat in silence, the largest two leaning back and almost dozing off while Daphne started fixing the polish on her nails with her wand. Anna and Theo, meanwhile, shared a sofa, legs entwined as Anna was informed on the seventh years' progress of getting close to their Death Eater relatives. It had worked rather well, most of them revelling in the fact that their children or nieces and nephews were so interested and devoted to their lord. That way 'the Lestrange girl' wasn't the only one worthy of praise. But many of the students had asked questions that had made the adults double-take; the children 'hand't understood' why their lord punished them so painfully for things that were out of their control.
It had already begun. As soon as there was a tiny inkling of doubt within their minds, it would only grow as the Dark Lord continued to mistreat them. Give it months, maybe a year, but slowly everything would reach a boiling point.
Anna was proud to say the least.
Suddenly the door to the common room opened, revealing Pansy who led a line of almost a dozen first years. Once they were all inside Draco entered, bringing up the rear with the four fifth and seventh year prefects. The group of older students were quiet as the two seventh years explained the corridors to the first years and ushered them off to bed. Then they also left, taking the fifth years -one of which was Astoria- with them and leaving Anna with her friends in the common room.
"Well, they seem cooperative enough." Pansy sighed as she dropped onto the couch beside Anna. "A bit bratty, but we can handle that. Astoria's also doing a good job at helping."
At this, Daphne visibly preened, casting a fond look at the mouth of the corridor her little sister had just disappeared through.
"Beside all that, I doubt they'll be any trouble. The other prefects are also doing a great job of contacting all Slytherins who aren't necessarily working with us, but rather cooperating silently." Draco drawled. "While those who are strictly ours are under Daphne and Theo's jurisdiction, these others still need a handler. That's me and the other prefects; we'll also be working on helping all those outside after curfew get away with it."
"That'll definitely be useful, thank you." Anna smiled. "But I'd like Daphne to concentrate on the supply chain for the muggleborns at the Manor instead of the helpers here. That's enough work on its own. Theo can handle the students here and the direct contact with Marcus, can't you, love?"
"Certainly." Said boy nodded.
The door swung open once more, revealing a tired looking Blaise.
"That took longer than expected. What happened?" Daphne sat up, extending a hand to pull him onto the sofa she was sitting on.
Blaise hummed and dropped onto the couch, lying down with his head in her lap. "Oh, nothing. It's all dandy. At least the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs know how to be fucking obedient. They've got their first years divided already, new eyes all set up, and a watching schedule for Dumbledore in place." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "But Gryffindor just isn't the same since the twins left. McLaggen is being a prick, of course, but he got most of his work done. At my… let's call it scolding, Dean Thomas decided to take over. He asked why we're interested in Longbottom, I just told him it's to keep him safe from your parents."
Anna hummed in acknowledgement. "And how did they both take that?"
"Thomas seems to have taken the role of middle-man very seriously. He's like a lobbyist for his house, which is actually pretty impressive considering how unwilling he was to cooperate last year. I think he'll do a good job; he's more responsible and well liked than McLaggen, and because of that I think our work with his house might become more efficient." Then he took a deep breath. "As for MacLaggen… remember the looks he was giving us in Slughorn's carriage, Daph?"
Said girl's lips spread into a slightly mischievous smile. "Yes, why?"
"Let's just say he wants his post back. I told him he wasn't going to get it, but he was still with us if he wanted to be." There was a chuckle. "He seemed relieved and promised to keep working on Granger. Would you like us to formally, 'publicly', meet him sometime?"
"That'd be interesting-"
Draco let out a loud groan and got to his feet. "Alright, if we're done here I'm going to bed. The last thing I want to hear is about these two's interests. Merlin, you're gross."
"And you're jealous because I'll castrate you if you go near my sister." Daphne snapped. "Keep away from her, she's in enough danger as it is."
"I'll keep away from her. Can't promise she'll keep away from me." Draco winked.
"You're disgusting! I can't believe she's even interested-"
Harry was finding it very hard not to glare at everyone and everything as he trudged to DADA the next day. First day of the year and his first class was DADA with Snape. His day literally couldn't get worse… No, he scolded himself, everytime he thought that Voldemort somehow managed to prove him wrong. He should never think he'd hit rockbottom, it could only backfire by taking advantage of his complacence.
"They're planning something with Slughorn." He continued to tell his friends. He and Ron had gone to Ancient Runes to pick Hermione up after class, and he'd remembered to tell them about last night when he saw Lestrange be picked up by Nott. "I heard them in their carriage, but that was all they talked about there. I was hoping to hear more on their real plans for the school; she doesn't seem too interested in the Professor. They kept mentioning their 'other things' they had to do."
"What about the plans you heard them talking about in Knocturn Alley?" Hermione still didn't seem to have forgiven him for rushing out without them, but apparently wasn't unwilling to discuss things. "Did you hear who 'she' was? Or any explanation on these 'sides' they mentioned?"
"No." Harry shook his head. "There was something about Nott's father, might have to do with his death but I don't know. They said it was about his behaviour. Maybe the fact that he was a Death Eater?"
"Doubt it. There's no reason to think he wasn't one, is there?" Ron shook his head. "But I don't know. How did Nott react to it?"
"… Upset?" Harry ventured. "Like, he wasn't expecting the mentioning of his father. And they all apologised to him for it; Zabini even seemed to mean his apology."
Ron frowned, looking away from Harry.
"Why? Ron, what?" Hermione nudged him.
"Well, it's- he's a pureblood, right? And, you know, most traditional pureblood families are pretty old-fashioned... and I never heard Nott being a daddy's boy like Malfoy… if he reacted like this about his father's supposed behaviour I don't think it's a stretch to think…" Ron shook his head. "Nah, I'm probably wrong."
"Wrong about what?" Harry insisted. "Go on!"
"It's just- corporeal punishment wasn't actually unheard of not all that long ago." Ron admitted. "Among those stricter, traditional families. If the bloke was a Death Eater too… like, willing to kill us, fifteen year old kids at the time… what d'you think the probabilities of him hitting his kid are?"
A shudder ran through Harry. Well, when he put it that way. If it were true, then Nott's reaction would seem a bit more reasonable. But that was a big if.
He shook his head. "That's a different matter. Right now, we need to find out what Lestrange is planning."
"And how do we do that?" Hermione asked him, still looking a Ron with a puzzled look, as if wondering how Ron had jumped to such a troubling conclusion. "It's not like we can spy on them in their common room, which is where they'll be making all their arrangements if they've got half a brain."
"I don't know, do I? I mean, they can't possibly be doing all of this by themselves, there's got to be like… a chain of command or something. Maybe start there?" He suggested. "Because confronting her with no clue as to her plans or anything at all is pretty risky."
"Alright, so we have to find out who else works for her? How do we do that?" Ron asked. "Like, follow them around? That doesn't sound too efficient."
"There's got to be people in particular to follow." Hermione pondered. "There's Nott, who's her boyfriend and would definitely have his fingers in all the pies. And Malfoy. Those are the two she trusts most, right? We should check up on them on the map in the afternoons after class, and past curfew. If they're meeting up with anyone then that would be the time to do it."
Harry nodded, but suddenly stopped walking. The map. He'd almost forgot! "Ron!" He exclaimed, prompting the concerned looks of his friends to turn confused. "I need you to talk to the twins."
"What? Why?" Said redhead frowned.
"Because last year they were suspicious of An- Lestrange. Stopping me from talking to her and such." Harry told him, grabbing them both and walking on at a quicker pace than before. "And then suddenly they weren't anymore, they were even being helped by the Inquisitorial Squad to get away."
"Oh, Harry. I think that has more to do with the Inquisitorial Squad hating Umbridge and wanting her to suffer rather than the twins siding with Death Eaters." Hermione told him.
"Yeah, mate. They really wouldn't do that." Ron was frowning at him. "I think you might have been a bit more affected by Lestrange's betrayal than you thought-"
"I know what I saw." He glared. "Just in case. Try to find out if something weird is going on with them, alright?"
Ron and Hermione met each other's eyes, faces twisted in concern in a way that only served to anger Harry more. And then, his morning got worse by stepping into the DADA classroom to find the front seats all occupied by Slytherins and Snape sitting at his desk, talking to Malfoy.
Hermione got up from her desk, pairing off with Neville to practice non-verbal spells. She looked around worriedly, noting that while the Slytherins got into pairs and started practicing relaxedly, with Snape's whispered instructions and explanations, the Gryffindors were having more difficulty. Almost half the class had been taught how to cast a proper shield charm by Harry the year before, but she knew that this was a whole different level.
As she started shooting jinxes and hexes at Neville, being careful to do it slowly and with enough intervals for him to be able to attempt to shield himself the non-verbal way and then to cast the spell verbally if he failed, her eyes trailed back to Lestrange and Nott. Ron's words had been ringing through her head since he'd uttered them. If she'd understood him correctly, he thought Nott had been physically abused by his father.
She'd read a bit on domestic abuse, though mainly on spousal abuse and not on child abuse. From what she saw, he didn't show signs of being abused, but then again, she didn't have much to go on. She'd never seen him in anything but school robes or dress shirts and pants, nothing that showed any skin. And even then, if he had had bruises at some point, those would have vanished during the year. Then again, abuse didn't have to be physical for it to be abuse. Hermione had never interacted with him in any way, she didn't know what he was like, or if he showed any signs of being emotionally abused.
From what she'd heard and seen of him and Lestrange's interaction, she always seemed to be gentler with him than with others. But she didn't treat him as if he were fragile, if she had she wouldn't be shooting hexes and jinxes at him, only halting to non-verbally block the ones he flung at her in return. Most weren't dangerous, but they weren't hesitating. They'd already won twenty points each, according to Snape's gloating voice.
Hermione, who had also succeeded in doing it, had won zero points.
Her eyes turned to Ron and Harry, who were now dealing with Snape's involvement. There was a confrontation between Snape and Harry, again.
"There's no need to call me sir, professor." Hermione would have clapped if it weren't for the fact that it was a stupidly antagonising thing to say to a professor that already enjoyed making his life miserable. It was no surprise that he got detention. First day and he had detention already, it had to be a special skill of his.
Then Hermione noticed Lestrange and Malfoy's muttered discussion, both of their gazes fixed on their head of house's back. Whatever he was telling her was causing her glare to intensify. She cut him off with a quick twist of her neck and whispered something to him. He nodded in response, though he looked back at his professor apprehensively.
Maybe not everything was as it seemed, Hermione had the time to think before being pulled into more practice by Neville.
Hagrid sat on a large barrel, looking sullenly up at the castle as no students came to his class. He had hoped that Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have showed up; he'd really planned some good classes for this year. They were interesting and exiting and he'd wanted to share that, but they seemed not to think he was up for the job. None of them did.
A slight frown crossed his features as the hurt grew. He made to stand up and go back inside his hut to prepare some tea -or maybe something a little stronger- when he heard someone calling out. He raised his head to look, eyes narrowing as he tried to make out who it was. A small figure was hurrying towards him with short, hurried steps.
As the figure got closer he could see that it was Connors. The girl was hurrying towards him wearing those delicate shoes the girls in her house all seemed to wear and holding up her backpack as she almost tumbled down the steps. When she reached him she offered him a wide smile.
"Sorry I'm late, professor. I just had to pop by the common room to pick something up." She held up her bag and started rummaging through it.
From the inside she pulled what seemed to be some of the shoes muggleborns tended to bring with them, made of brightly patterned cloth and with thin, flat soles. She sat on a barrel beside him and started changing her shoes, also dropping her bracelets and rings and earrings into her bag. Then she stood up and pulled her it completely onto her back instead of looping only one arm through it.
Connors looked at his puzzled expression with hesitant excitement. "That's better for going into the forrest, isn't it sir? I don't think Daphne would ever forgive me if she saw me wearing this."
"Wha- what are you doing here, Connors?" He had been told by Dumbledore who the girl really was and he really couldn't think of a reason for her to-
"I want to be an Unspeakable." She told him. "For that I need to score an O on my Care of Magical Creatures NEWT. And I really like your classes."
"Do you now?" He frowned with suspicion. "You never participated."
The girl flushed. "Well, there's certain expectations in our house… It was interesting but there's appearances to uphold. Now that I'm the only student I can't do much damage, now can I?"
Hagrid, still not completely convinced, got to his feet. He was still a teacher and he had a job to do, wether he trusted the student or not. "Well, let's go then. We've lost enough time here and I have to get back in time for the seventh year class. Don't be late next time."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed down to the dungeons, to the classroom that had been Snape's before. The door was still closed when they arrived, but the students of the other houses had gathered around it. Since less than half of the fifth year students had managed to get an E, and of the ones that had not all of them had opted to take the class, all four of the houses would be taking it together.
There were four Ravenclaws -Padma, Michael, Terry, and Anthony-, one Hufflepuff -Ernie-, two more Gryffindors -Dean and Parvati- and, unsurprisingly, Slytherin had the most students. It was natural, seeing at it was a subject whose teacher had shown favouritism towards them, paying them more attention while he neglected the others. There were six; Lestrange, Nott, Zabini, Malfoy, Greengrass, and Davis.
As they passed they could hear Greengrass complaining that she actually hadn't wanted to take the class, Zabini chiming in to agree, but the were quickly hushed by Malfoy telling them to 'suck it up'.
Just as Ernie approached them to chat, the door to the classroom swung open, revealing Slughorn's large belly covered in a fancy silk robe. He invited them all inside with his loud and boisterous laugh, taking some time to greet Harry, Zabini, and Greengrass with extra enthusiasm.
Inside there already were various cauldrons, steaming and fuming all over the place. Harry, Ron, and Hermione chose a table close to a golden cauldron, Ernie taking a seat with them. The four Ravenclaws took a table by themselves, and the Slytherins took two tables, three at each. They made a show of having Zabini, Greengrass, and Davis sit away from the three that were tied to Death Eaters. But as he looked at them, the anger he usually felt was absent, in its stead was a rare feeling of contentment that he felt had something to do with the wonderful scent emanating from the golden cauldron close to them.
"Now then, now then." SLughorn started. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copy of Advanced Potion Making…"
"Sir?" Harry raised his hand, also having to raise his voice to be heard over the shuffling caused by his classmates.
"Harry, m'boy?"
"I haven't got books or scales or anything -neither has Ron- we didn't realise we'd be able to take NEWTS, you see…" He began.
"Ah, yes. Professor McGonagall did mention it. Not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales… and we've got a small stock of old books here as well, they'll do until you can order from Flourish and Blotts."
He strode over to a corner cupboard and, after rummaging for a few moments, emerged with two very old and used copied of Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. The man handed them over to Harry and Ron, along with two tarnished scales.
"Now then!" Slughorn returned to the front of the class. "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 NEWTs. You should have heard of them, even if you haven't made them yet. Can anyone tell me what this is?"
He pointed at the cauldron between the two Slytherin tables, and all the students turned to look at it. It looked like plain boiling water, though Harry knew better than to think that was what it was.
Two hands shot up, Hermione's and Lestrange's. Harry wasn't surprised to see Slughorn point at Hermione; he wanted nothing to do with Death Eaters and even if Dumbledore hadn't told him the truth about her, he ought to know that the Malfoys had taken in a poor muggleborn girl. Everyone had heard the story of their philanthropy, and so now also everyone knew that she was involved with Death Eaters, even if only by association.
"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth." Hermione recited.
"Very good, very good!" Slughorn smiled happily. "Now, this one here is pretty well known… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets, too. Who can…?"
Both the girls' hands shot up again, but Slughorn once more chose Hermione causing a tiny pinch to appear between Anna's eyebrows. It wouldn't be noticeable to anyone except if they were looking for it, and Harry was looking. This had never happened to her before, and it was interesting to watch. He couldn't help but feel slightly smug, even if he knew that getting her angry wasn't the best idea ever.
"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir." Hermione answered again, casting a quick glance at the other girl, slightly uncomfortable.
Even though Harry had also recognised it, he didn't mind Hermione getting all the credit for it. She had brewed it correctly in their second year, after all, but it was also worth seeing Lestrange be ignored.
"Excellent, excellent! Now this one here, er… yes, my dear?" Slughorn asked, now looking amused.
Hermione had raised her hand before Lestrange had had the chance to, as if trying to spare her being ignored again. Not that it had done much good, as Lestrange had instead taken out a book and started reading. But Hermione seemed to have gotten to the same conclusion as Harry, only it seemed to alarm her more than him. They didn't know what she'd do if she was angry, because they'd never seen her angry and there was a first time for everything.
But Harry didn't think it'd push her that far. She couldn't actually do anything, not really, but who knew how much of a grudge she kept? Malfoy had hated Harry all this time just because he'd chosen Ron over him on the Express in their first year.
"It's Amortentia!"
"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask." Slughorn now looked mildly impressed. "And I assume you know what it does?"
"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" She answered, sounding slightly breathless.
"Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals." Hermione was now starting to get enthusiastic. "And it's supposed to smell differently to of us according to what attracts us. For example I can smell freshly mown grass, and new parchment and-"
She cut herself off, turning slightly pink, and closed her mouth with an audible snap.
"May I ask your name, my dear?" Slughorn asked, now looking rather interested.
"Hermione Granger, sir." She piped up.
"Granger, Granger… you wouldn't be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Portioneers?
"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm muggleborn, you see."
Harry saw Malfoy whisper something to Nott, who nodded with a roll of his eyes and turned to look at Lestrange. She was still absorbed in her book, clearly having decided that if she could not participate that it was not worth her time. They turned to look at Hermione with something in their eyes Harry hand't seen before. He'd seen them look at her with disgust and repulsion, but never with anger. They were angry, though it seemed like such an exaggeration to him that he doubted he'd interpreted it correctly.
"Oho!" Slughorn was laughing. "'One of my best friends is a muggleborn and she's the best one in our year!'. I'm assuming this is the very friend you spoke of, Harry?"
"Yes, sir." He told the professor.
"Well, well. Take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, miss Granger." Slughorn genially said, turning to the students and apparently failing to hear Nott's comment, which ran loudly through the whole classroom.
"For being friends with Potter. That's a lot of work, I'm sure." His tone was dry as he too pulled out a book and started to read.
Hermione blushed with embarrassment, now shutting her mouth and being quiet. Harry glared at Nott. She was the best one if their year and she did earn those points. Just because they couldn't with the tables being turned didn't mean they could just be prats about it. But it seemed to be something Slytherin house excelled at, hurting people with words.
"Amortentia doesn't create love, of course. It's impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It's probably the most dangerous potion in this room." He looked around, eyes resting for a few moments on the two reading teens and Malfoy, who'd taken to juggling three tiny jars of ingredients, before going back to his desk.
"And now, it is time for us to start work."
"But sir, you haven't told us what's in that one." Ernie pointed at the little black cauldron that sat on Slughorn's own desk, its contents bubbling merrily. Large drops of a liquid like molten gold streamed down the side, dripping onto the wooden surface.
"Oho!" Slughorn exclaimed again, and it was clear to all that he'd been waiting to be asked about it. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it-" As if to add insult to injury, he turned back to Hermione, who looked up at him with wide eyes. "that you know what Felix Felicia does, miss Granger?"
"It's liquid luck." She muttered, raising her voice only enough to barely be heard. "It makes you lucky."
The two books suddenly snapped shut, and Malfoy stopped juggling. The whole class seemed to sit a little straighter to give Slughorn their full and undivided attention.
"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor." He clapped his hands together once. "Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. It's 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 drink it all the time, sir?" Terry asked.
"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence. Too much of a good thing, you know; highly toxic in large quantities." He hummed. "But taken sparingly, and very occasionally…"
"Have you ever taken it, sir?" Michael Corner, giving a perfect example of Ravenclaw curiosity, asked.
"Twice in my life." The memories alone brought a large smile to the man's face. "Once when I was twenty-four and once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons with breakfast, two perfect days." He stared off into the distance for a few seconds before coming back to earth. "And that is what I'll be offering as a prize in this lesson."
He grinned at their stunned silence. "One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis." He took out a tiny bottle from his chest pocket. "Enough for twelve hours of luck. From dawn to dusk, you will be lucky at everything you attempt." Then he ran a hand over his bald head. "Now, I must give a warning that the use of this little potion is banned at any organised competition. Use it in an ordinary day only!"
Then he suddenly turned brisk. "Turn to page ten of your books. In what time we have left -little over an hour- you will attempt to brew a passable version of the Draught of Living Death. It's more complicated than anything you have attempted before and so I do not expect you to brew a perfect potion… but! Whoever brews the best will win little Fenix here!"
Nobody spoke as they immediately got to work, the only sounds being the chopping, the dropping of weights on scales, and the moving of cauldrons from one place to the other. Harry looked over to the Slytherin table, seeing them all concentratedly leafing through their books… but Lestrange and Nott were muttering amongst themselves, seemingly discussing something that either exited Nott or made him extremely anxious. Or both.
Deciding to ponder it later, he bent over his book. Only to find it had been covered in the writing of the previous owner. With annoyance crawling through him he tried to decipher what had been written in the list of ingredients, because even there the owner had crossed things out and scribbled between the margins.
As soon as he knew what he needed, he dashed to the cupboard to get his ingredients, eyes scanning the room as he came back. Everyone looked around every once in a while, spying on their neighbour's work. Soon enough the room had been filled with thick blue smoke and Hermione and Lestrange seemed to have progressed the most, tied with their cauldrons at the exact same shade.
Harry bent back over his own book, struggling to figure out the actual instructions through the previous owner's alternate suggestions. He would need a silver knife to follow the alternate instructions, but he'd lose much more time attempting to read what had been covered in scribbles. After a second's deliberation he chose to take the risk.
He turned to Hermione. "Can I borrow your silver knife?"
She looked at him strangely but nodded. Her eyes were flitting between her potion and Lestrange's. Her's was a few shades darker than it ought to be, but Lestrange's was just right. Hermione didn't look particularly bothered by her own mistakes, though. With an angry jolt he realised she was sabotaging herself, maybe she'd also seen the anger in Nott and Malfoy's eyes? Harry suddenly remembered that Lestrange wasn't the only Death Eater in the group; Nott and Malfoy's arms had also been covered up in Knockturn Alley.
As he followed the previous owner's instructions he discovered that whoever it had been, they'd been a genius as potions. Every instruction worked perfectly, maybe even better than the actual instructions. Soon enough he was competing head to head with Lestrange, and he knew he would win. Slughorn had been partial enough against her, there was no way Harry wouldn't be chosen over her.
"Harry, how are you doing that?" Hermione asked, wearing an expression that could only be construed as shock. "And why are you doing that?"
"Fist of all, Hermione." He told her. "Screw them. Second of all-" He explained what he'd found.
She frowned and started to admonish him, but he just shrugged and continued working as he had been. Soon enough the time had run out and they were all told to stop stirring.
Slughorn walked around the dungeon, looking severely displeased when Lestrange's potion seemed to be the best. He seemed hopeful as he approached the Gryffindor table. He grimaced at Ernie and Ron's attempts before stepping towards Harry and Hermione. Hermione's earned her an approving nod, but his eyes lit up at seeing Harry's. His potion was at least on par with Lestrange's.
"The clear winner!" He announced, eliciting more glares from all Slytherins but Zabini, Greengrass and, funnily enough, Lestrange herself. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at potions, Lily was! Here you are, here you are- one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised! Use it well, dear boy!"
Slughorn handed over the tiny bottle and Harry slipped it into his robe pocket, feeling a mixture of elation at the Slytherins' anger, and guilt at Hermione's disappointed look. That was until Davies and Lestrange started talking loud enough for them all to hear.
"That was dumb. You should have won that, Anna, you were at least as good!" Davies exclaimed.
"Oh, it's fine Tracey." Anna smiled, packing her things. "I think Harry will need all the luck he can get, don't you?"
A sudden chill ran down Harry's spine.