Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Whatnot

The next morning, Harry and Ron recapped for me and Hermione what had happened to Harry on the train. He used the Invisibility Cloak to eavesdrop on a Slytherin conversation. Malfoy had been bragging about having some sort of mission for the Dark Lord. Then, before Harry could get out, Malfoy caught him there, stunned him, and broke his nose. Tonks found him on the train and brought him back, also fixing his nose.

I was beginning to agree with Harry about Malfoy becoming a Death Eater, because although Malfoy was one to brag a lot, that was some story to make up just to look good. He could actually have taken his father’s place.

As we were leaving the common room, Hermione stopped some fourth year boy.

“Hold it! Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it over.”

He scowled, but gave it to her nonetheless. He ran off after his friends and as soon as he was gone, Ron took the Frisbee from Hermione.

“Excellent, I’ve always wanted one of these.”

Hermione went to say something, but was drowned out by loud giggling. Lavender Brown passed us, apparently finding Ron’s remark highly amusing. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and he looked quite pleased with himself.

“Well, that was disturbing,” I said. “And you shouldn’t have that, you need to set an example as a prefect, so thanks!” I grabbed it from him.

“Hey!”

I stuck my tongue out at him and skipped down to the Great Hall. After breakfast, Professor McGonagall came around to check our O.W.L.s and assign our schedules. Hermione and I were passed for all the same classes: Charms, DADA, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, and Potions. Hermione was also taking Ancient Runes, and she had that first, so she went off quickly. Harry and Ron were taking all the same classes as well, minus Arithmancy.

The three of us had a free period first, so we went back to the common room.

An hour later, I had to practically drag them from the common room to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione was already there, looking frazzled from the amount of work for Ancient Runes.

Professor Snape opened the door to the classroom, looking as intimidating and greasy as ever.

“Inside,” he said.

When we entered the room, you could practically feel a ten degree drop in temperature and everything seemed bleak and dreary, like Snape’s personality. There were many portraits on the walls of people who seemed to be in great pain. It was disturbing to say the least.

Professor Snape began class with a little speech on the Dark Arts. To me, it sounded like a love letter he’d written personally to them or something. However, what he said about defenses made sense. He talked about how you needed to be flexible and inventive because the Dark Arts are always changing. That’s kind of what Harry had been teaching us.

Then, he started the lesson, which was nonverbal spells. I was paired with Hermione, and I was attempting to jinx her silently, while she blocked it. At first, I just said the spells as quietly as possible, but naturally, about ten minutes in, Hermione repelled my jinx without making a sound. Then, I decided to actually concentrate. A few more tries, and I was able to conjure a Jelly-Legs jinx without speaking. Hermione still blocked it, but I felt accomplished anyways. The two of us should have earned points for Gryffindor because we’d been the first to do this, but of course we didn’t with Snape.

Then we heard Harry yell, “Protego!”

We looked over to see Snape standing back up, scowling, after Harry’s shield charm had knocked him over.

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

A few people gasped, including Hermione, and I really wanted to laugh. I refrained, but couldn’t help the smirk on my face. I gave Harry a thumbs-up behind Snape’s back.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter…not even ‘the Chosen One.’”

After class, we had another break and were headed back to the common room.

“That was brilliant, Harry!” laughed Ron.

“Agreed, you’re like my new hero,” I said.

“You really shouldn’t have said it,” said Hermione, frowning at us. “What made you?”

“He tried to jinx me, in case you didn’t notice!” fumed Harry. “I had enough of that in Occlumency lessons! Why doesn’t he use another guinea pig for a change? What’s Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defense? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff – “

“Well,” began Hermione. “I thought he sounded a bit like you.”

“Like me?”

We nodded.

“Yes, when you were telling us what it’s like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn’t just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts – well, wasn’t that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?”

Harry looked astounded. Then, someone called his name and handed him a piece of parchment. It was a note from Dumbledore about starting private lessons. We spent all of break thinking of what Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry. They hadn’t found my joke about him teaching Harry how to play the bagpipes as amusing as I did.

Anyways, the next class we had was Potions. There weren’t as many people continuing with N.E.W.T. level Potions as in other classes. There were four Slytherins, including Malfoy, four Ravenclaws, and the four of us.

We sat at a table near a golden cauldron that emitted one of the most wonderful scents. It was a mixture of vanilla, rainwater, and the way George’s sweaters always smelled. I leaned my chin on my hand and breathed it in. I noticed Harry and Ron with dreamy looks on their faces, which made me laugh slightly.

“Now then,” said Slughorn, walking 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 N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

He was pointing to a cauldron next to the Slytherin table that looked like plain, boiling water.

I knew what it was, but I didn’t bother raising my hand. Hermione’s hand was up before anyone else’s and I smiled.

“It’s Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth,” she said.

“Very good, very good!” said Slughorn. “Now, this one here is pretty well known…” he indicated one by the Ravenclaws, “Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too…Who can - ?”

Hermione’s hand was up again.

“It’s Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she said.

“Excellent, excellent! Now this one here…yes, my dear?” said Slughorn, looking at Hermione, both delighted and amused.

“It’s Amortentia!”

“It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask,” said Slughorn, “but I assume you know what it does?”

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world!”

“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” said Hermione, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and – “she blushed without finishing her sentence.

Slughorn didn’t seem to notice, “May I ask your name, my dear?”

“Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dog-Worth Granger, who
founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.”

I heard Malfoy and another Slytherin snigger, and I sent glares their way. Slughorn ignored
them and granted Hermione twenty points for Gryffindor.

Slughorn explained some more about Amortentia, then said, “And now, it is time for us to start work.”

“Sir, what about that one?” I pointed to a golden potion on his desk that had little droplets splashing about.

“Oho,” he said. It made me think he hadn’t forgotten it, but had been waiting to be asked for dramatic effect. “Yes, my dear. That. Well, that[/] one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,” he turned to Hermione who had gasped, “that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?”

“It’s liquid luck,” she said excitedly. “It makes you lucky!”

“Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it’s a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed…at least until the effects wear off.”

“Why don’t people take it all the time, sir?” asked Terry Boot.

“Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence,” said Slughorn. “Too much of a good thing, you know…highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly and very occasionally…”

“Have you ever taken it, sir?” I asked.

“Twice in my life. Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days.”

He seems to stare off into the distance and whether he was just acting or not, it was a good effect.

“And that,” he said, suddenly seeming to come back to earth, “is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.”

The potion we were to make was called the Draught of the Living Dead. It was a complex potion, and Slughorn did not expect any of us to get it perfect right away, he would be looking for the best one.

Turning to page ten of my Potions book, I began looking over the instructions.

About fifteen minutes later, Hermione had progressed furthest, but I wasn’t too far behind her myself. I had chopped all the roots and stirred until it was a 'smooth, black-currant colored liquid.' Next we had to chop the sopophorous bean. It was tricky to keep the bean in place to cut it. I got impatient with it and slammed the knife down on it flat. I was surprised when juice came pouring out of the bean. I just shrugged and threw the whole thing in. My potion turned the shade of lilac the book described, and I began the counterclockwise stirring. My potion, however, was not turning lighter as it was supposed to. Everyone else at our table seemed frustrated as well, except for Harry.

“And time’s…up!” called Slughorn. “Stop stirring, please!”

He walked around each table, inspecting everyone’s potions. He gave Hermione an approving nod. When he came to mine, he peered at it closer.

“My dear, this is quite good, very close indeed. What is your name?”

“Caroline Firth, sir.”

“Firth…I believe I taught a Firth a while back” he repeated, thinking. “Is your father Luke?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

“Nice man, very smart, and a Muggle-born too”

“Yes, both my parents are Muggle-borns.”

He nodded, “Indeed, quite good,” he motioned at my cauldron.

Then he moved on to Ron’s black potion, which he grimaced at. A look of absolute delight crossed his features when he came to Harry’s.

“The clear winner!” he cried. “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, then, here you are – one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!”

Back at the common room, Harry showed us his book in explanation for his new-found abilities in Potions.

“I s’pose you think I cheated?” he directed at Hermione.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly your own work, was it?” she said.

“He only followed different instructions to ours,” said Ron.

“It’s not like you can even read the original directions,” I said, leafing through the book.

“Could’ve been a catastrophe, couldn’t it? But he took a risk and it paid off.” Ron sighed. “Slughorn could’ve handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one’s ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but – “

“Hang on,” said a voice behind us.

I looked over to see Ginny had come in. She looked alarmed and slightly angry.

“Did I hear right? You’ve been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?” she asked.

Suddenly, I remembered Ginny’s first year and the Chamber of Secrets. Ooh.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. “It’s not like, you know, Riddle’s diary. It’s just an old textbook someone’s scribbled on.”

“But you’re doing what it says?”

“I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there’s nothing funny – “

“Ginny’s got a point,” said Hermione. “We ought to check that there’s nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?”

She grabbed it from me. “Specialis Revelio!”

Nothing happened.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” I said.

“Finished?” asked Harry. “Or d’you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?”

“It seems all right,” said Hermione. “I mean, it really does seem to be…just a textbook.”

“Good. Then I’ll have it back,” Harry snatched the book back off the table.