'Excellent work, Mr Potter,' said the examiner as he scribbled on a clipboard after Harry appeared soundlessly in front of him. 'Now, I have here an address for your next stop. Please Apparate there and report to my colleague who shall give you further instructions.'
Five minutes later, Harry was walking into the Three Broomsticks bearing an Apparating licence in his hand and a wide grin on his face.
Ever since the first Apparition lesson, Harry had only attended one other class, in which he showed minimal participation. However, after finally finding that diadem, his spirits were lifted high enough for him to start experimenting. He used the opportunity given to him to Apparate around the Great Hall in various ways. So far he had managed to Apparate facing in various different directions, Apparate while walking and, his personal favourite, Disapparating and Apparating in one spot. He had also managed to improve his speed and was trying to Apparate seated on a chair by the time Twycross called it a day. Exasperated, Twycross had decided to take the boy with him to the afternoon's testing session. The ministry official had two reasons to do this: firstly, the teen's skills in disappearing and appearing in various places silently was pretty impressive and this, coupled with his emancipated status, made it possible to give him a licence. Secondly and more importantly, it gave Twycross a better reason to deny the boy entry in future classes. Honestly, all that Apparating and Disapparating was giving him a headache. Especially when it was accompanied with shrieks and shouts of surprise as the teen suddenly appeared behind a classmate randomly.
And so, Harry ended up being the third person to be tested that Saturday afternoon and the only person to be doing it for the first time. Not to mention the youngest.
'Ah, Mr Potter, I see that you passed.' Wilkie Twycross said dryly as he looked at the licence that Harry held in his hand. 'Well, congratulations... Now, I think it best that you head back to school.'
'Thank you, sir.'
The wispy haired albino wizard gave a bland smile. 'No, thank you. Since you have passed, there is no need for you to attend any more of my classes. I believe that this will be the last I shall be seeing of you. Farewell!' And with that, he turned to the next applicant to be tested, a large sullen wizard who looked quite put out at being tested in the first place.
'Goodbye sir, it was a pleasure to be taught by you!' Harry replied cheekily as he sauntered out.
Pausing mid – step outside the door, Harry considered the long walk up to the gates. Now that he had his licence, there was no need for him to walk all the way there. Not that stopped him before. Taking a step forward, he Disapparated, Apparating a few paces in front of the gates, stumbling slightly as he strove to maintain his stride. 'Got to work on that,' he muttered to himself, nearing the gates.
'Hey Harry! What happened? Didn't you pass?' Neville said as he looked at his friend.
'Oh, I passed,' Harry replied, a sour expression on his face replacing the wide grin that was there just minutes ago.
'Then why the sour face?'
'McGonagall gave me detention,' Harry muttered darkly. The Transfiguration teacher was the one who had let him into the school. Through pursed lips, she announced how he would be spending his time that evening.
Neville snorted at this. 'I'm not surprised,' he said dryly. 'Judging by the way Twycross was looking at you throughout the class as you appeared and disappeared everywhere like some demented mirage, I'd say that you had that coming.'
Harry grunted. 'Still,' he said a moment later with a small smile as he fished out the licence in his pocket. 'I aced that test.' He proudly showed Neville the little card. The expression on his facsimile mirrored the smirk currently on his face.
'Cool,' said Neville as he examined the card. 'It was rather decent of Twycross to squeeze you in at the last moment.'
'McGonagall said something similar. She said that I should give the bloke a small token of appreciation for going through the trouble. Although I think I will hold back on that, he did jack the fees up quite a bit.'
Neville rolled his eyes and shook his head. 'Well, at least you got to go to Hogsmeade today. It's a real shame that they had to cancel Hogsmeade visits.'
'Yeah, Fred and George weren't too happy about it either.'
'Oh, so they have opened a shop in Hogsmeade, haven't they?' Neville said in an impressed voice. 'Their business must be booming to be able to expand so quickly, especially in these times.'
'Oi, Potter!' said Seamus, as he and Dean walked over to Harry's seat by the fire. 'Well, looks like somebody's got his licence. Let me see.' He plucked the card from Neville's hand and gave it a long look. 'Well, congratulations! So, when's the party?'
'Tomorrow,' Harry replied without missing a beat. 'Today's Ron's birthday. He becomes a man today.'
'So, got any tips for Apparating, Harry?' Dean asked eagerly. Upon hearing the question, all three boys brought their heads together and looked at Harry intently.
'Well, you know Twycross's three D's?'
'Oh, don't remind me of Dickhead,' Seamus moaned disgustedly, using one of the many nicknames he and the rest of the sixth – years had given the Ministry official, using his three D's as inspiration. He was immediately shushed by the other two.
'Yes, well, I sort of practised those three D's when I first Apparated, only they were "Desperation", "Determination" and ...' Harry paused for a moment in thought before saying '..."Desperation",' again, causing Seamus to snort.
'Although it was more "Determination", "Determination" and "Determination" after that,' Harry continued thinking about what to say. 'I can't really explain it, you know, you just sort of ... get it. It just comes to you. Like that,' he snapped his fingers. 'At least that is how it worked for me. I used to spend hours on end in my cu – room concentrating on appearing and disappearing before suddenly I just got it.'
He knew that he had fed them a right load of crap, but it was better than telling them that he had managed to get that information from a piece of the Dark Lord's soul.
'So what you are saying is that it is like learning how to swim or ride a bike?' Dean asked contemplatively.
'Yes, you just have to keep practising.' Harry replied readily. This really was too easy. 'Well, I have to get going,' he got up and stretched, plucking his licence from Dean's loose fingers. 'Might as well get this detention out of the way ... Now, I have here a little gift for the birthday boy and you lot, courtesy of Fred and George.' He reached into his schoolbag and pulled out a smaller bag. 'So we can have for ourselves a proper party. Knowing those two, I expect it to be the good stuff, if you know what I mean. So please make sure that McGonagall does not find out about it, 'cause I will say right here and now that I never gave that bag to you and that I have never seen it in my life.' He set the bag down with a disproportionately loud clunk. 'Oh and save some for me,' he added as an afterthought.
'Sure thing, Mr House – Captain, Sir,' said Dean with a mocking salute.
'Yeah, also I do expect you lot to be responsible enough to ensure that the younger years don't get any of the hard drinks.'
Harry cringed internally as he realised how old and adult he sounded. There was a pregnant pause. 'A lecture on responsibility and maturity from Harry Potter,' Seamus deadpanned. 'Where is it that you are going right now?' he asked teasingly, getting a raised finger in response. 'Anyway, relax. There is no way we will be handing that stuff out to those little brats. That would mean less for us.'
'Touching,' said Harry dryly hoisting his schoolbag more securely on his shoulder. 'Anyway, have fun! I'll get back here as soon as possible.'
As Harry was on his way down to McGonagall's office to report for the detention, he was waylaid by Slughorn.
'Harry, m'boy!' said the corpulent Potions teacher. 'Just the man I was looking for!' he grinned as he indicated towards the direction of his office. 'Well, come on then!'
'Uh, I have detention with Professor McGonagall, sir,' Harry replied politely.
Slughorn's grin got wider. 'Ah, not to worry, my dear boy!' He said jovially. I spoke to Minerva a few minutes back. She agreed to let me oversee your detention.' He winked as he started shepherding Harry to his office.
'Now I heard about your antics in the Apparation class, and I was pretty impressed.' Slughorn said as they neared his office. 'You cheeky boy! Just like your father, you are! And I also heard that you got your licence on the first try?' he looked at Harry inquiringly. Seeing Harry nod, he beamed. 'Excellent! I knew you had it in you!'
The door to Slughorn's office opened with a tap of the Potions master's wand. 'After you then, Harry!'
Having spent the past week talking to Slughorn after class about various subjects in an effort to get into the man's good graces, Harry was well acquainted with the interiors of Slughorn's rather spacious and luxurious office.
'Now, the reason I asked for you was because Poppy needs a fresh batch of Potions, and it so happens to be my turn to make them. So when I heard your name and especially what you had done to garner a detention, I thought, "why not?" and decided to have you help. After all, these are fairly easy potions to make and I daresay a walk in the park for my star pupil.' He shot a proud smile at Harry. 'At least this way, I can kick my feet up and relax, and you get a fun detention. That way, we both win!'
'It most certainly will be,' said Harry with a smile, and he meant it. When he had initially spent time researching the facts in the Prince's book, he found the theories dry and complicated. However, over the past week as he got to know Slughorn, Harry found the man's enthusiasm for the subject catching. Harry would never take a shine to the subject, and he certainly did not feel the same passion for it as he did for Defence, Charms and (ever since the beginning of sixth year) Transfiguration. But the subject seemed just so much more interesting when Slughorn explained it. Harry actually found himself enthusiastic about making potions. Even more so since Slughorn gave useful hints and tips as he discussed potions not covered in the sixth year. Already Harry knew about two potions that would be coming up the next year, as well as some theory about more advanced potions that generally featured in the Potions N.E.W.T.
So making a potion (even if it was a large amount of it) wasn't that much of drudgery. Inexplicably (and the Harry of last year would certainly keel over from shock at the very notion) Harry actually preferred this compared to the lines that McGonagall had probably planned for him.
'Now, I don't want you to expect this sort of treat all the time.' Slughorn said sternly, although the twinkle in his eye ruined the admonishment. 'Now, the ingredients and my potions kit are over there.' He pointed at the desk at the other end of the office where a small area was cordoned off for making potions. 'My personal potions kit is for you to add some flair to the potions, if you want to. I am sure you will give Poppy something to comment about.' He winked. 'And here, is the list.' Handing over the piece of parchment with a flourish, he waddled to a cupboard where he brought out two bottles. 'And if you finish soon enough, we can break open this excellent bottle of mead as a toast to you passing your Apparating test flawlessly!' he held up the unopened bottle for Harry to see. 'So get to it!'
With that, the potions professor settled down on his armchair. Opening the other bottle of what Harry guessed was brandy, Slughorn poured himself a drink and sat back with a contended groan, pulling homework towards him to grade.
Harry picked up the list and studied it. All five potions that Pomfrey had mentioned were easy enough to make. The Blood Replenishing Potion hadn't been covered in class yet, but the instructions should be simple enough (it was in this year's curriculum after all). It was the quantity that Harry had to worry about.
Thanks to the notes copied down from the Half Blood Prince's book (although Harry did credit his own talents more, since he had researched the principles behind each notation) Harry was done in two and a half hours. He had enough time to get to Ron's birthday party.
'Excellent as always, Harry!' Slughorn said as he examined each of the cauldrons. 'And with quite a few interesting twists added in too ... Poppy is going to rave about these! I daresay that Severus would be quite impressed with them as well.'
'Thank you sir,' Harry replied modestly as he stretched sore muscles.
'Now, I promised you a drink,' saying that, Slughorn opened the bottle of mead. Sniffing the contents he hummed pleasurably. 'Ah, truly Rosmerta's finest. Too good to give away to a teetotaller.' he mumbled to himself.
'Sorry?'
'Oh, nothing,' Slughorn waved Harry's question away. Pouring out half a glass for Harry and a full one for himself, he held his glass up. 'To you,' he said grandly.
Harry smiled and, following Slughorn's example, raised the glass and drained its contents in one go.
Maybe it was his imagination, but the mead tasted slightly syrupy on his tongue. Harry made a disgusted face as he swallowed. 'I think this batch has gone bad.'
His head shot up as he heard the shattering of a dropped glass. Looking up, Harry caught a glimpse of the professor's face before Slughorn crumpled to the floor, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam soon started dribbling from the older man's mouth as his eyes bulged and his skin turned blue.
Not that Harry noticed this. As soon as he saw Slughorn crumple, he had enough time to yell out a shocked 'Professor!' before he doubled over as he felt an acute pain in his stomach.
'Fuck!' Harry groaned as his vision swam. Focusing on his surroundings he saw his teacher. The man's thrashings were becoming weaker. Harry knew that the professor did not have much time left. Stumbling for the potions kit, he upended it as he frantically searched for the bezoar he had noticed when he was making the potions. Clutching the stone, he staggered to the man and with a supreme effort of will, managed to force the stone in. Harry figured he would be able to bring both of them to the hospital wing. After all, he didn't seem to be too affected by the poison.
Slughorn gave an almighty shudder and became still.
But the battle was half over. A fresh wave of pain brought Harry to his knees. Breathing heavily, Harry opened his eyes as his stomach let up a bit. There was no way that he was going to be able to make it to the hospital wing. Not with Slughorn's limp body in tow. He called out for Randolph.
'Get to the hospital wing, get the nurse here.' Harry said through gritted teeth. 'The professor and I have been poisoned. Hurry!'
Not saying anything, the elf swiftly disappeared. Gasping for breath, Harry wondered why he had not been affected by the poison in the same way as the Potions Professor. Harry cried out as the pain intensified. Unable to stand, he sank to the floor, his back supported by the wall.
Hazily remembering something he had heard of a long time back, he called for Dobby.
'What can Dobby do for mas –?' the elf stopped mid – sentence when he noticed his master's distress.
Not having any time for Dobby's prattling (the elf's squeaky voice could grate terribly on his ears at times) Harry snapped out, 'Dobby ... salt, water ... now!'
Harry knew that drinking salt mixed in with water could induce vomiting. He hoped that this helped in removing what poison was in his stomach before it started affecting him and he ended up having a fit like Slughorn. Already, he felt a twinge in his limbs.
'Sir!' The elf disappeared and reappeared with a salt shaker and a jug of water and an empty glass.
If Harry wasn't in so much pain, he would have rolled his eyes at the glass. Instead, he yanked open the lid of the shaker and jerkily emptied the contents into the jug. He then proceeded to drink the saltwater as quickly as he could, spilling most of it on himself.
Grimacing at the taste of the brackish water, Harry braced himself. When nothing happened, except for an increase in dizziness, he despaired. Hoping against hope that there would be another bezoar in the kit (and cursing himself for not having thought of it first) Harry heaved himself onto his feet, ignoring the protests of the elf next to him and the mute but stronger protests of his body.
The minute he got to his feet, Harry clutched his stomach as he suddenly felt a pressure in his abdomen signalling the start of antiperistalsis. A moment later, he was doubled over as he spewed the contents of his stomach all over the expensive carpet.
Harry straightened up wearily, weakly wiping his mouth. His nostrils, throat and mouth were burning. His senses soon registered the smell of vomit, nauseatingly overpowering, causing him to nearly throw up again.
Once he was certain that he wasn't going to sick up a second time, Harry laughed a touch giddily as the endorphins released in his body from the aftermath of the vomiting took effect. He took a moment to appreciate the volume he had spewed out. He couldn't believe that his body was capable of holding so much.
His respite was short – lived, however. With a groan, Harry sank to the ground again. His nerves were on fire. Unable to help himself, he whimpered as he curled up into a ball, his muscles contracting painfully as the fire slowly spread through his body. The poison had stayed in his system for too long. His vision began to swim.
'Harry Potter!' Harry heard a voice screaming his name as if from a great distance. Looking up, he could recognise the outline of the school nurse rushing towards him, pushing Dobby (who he just noticed was hovering close by, wringing his hands) aside, followed by the taller outline of his head of house. With a slight smile, he mumbled out, 'What a detention,' as he lost himself to unconsciousness.
'So, how did this happen?'
Daphne tuned out Granger's voice as she answered the question for what had to be the nth time. She really could not take listening to the girl's voice any more. At first, Daphne had always thought that the word "Mudblood" was probably the worst thing to call any Muggleborn or person for that matter. Then she had met Granger. That one girl, with her opinion that the Muggle world was more advanced than the Wizarding world and her unshakable faith in Muggle logic (here she couldn't help but sneer at those words) and the Muggle way of doing things, and most specifically her disdain for Wizarding culture and values had managed to alienate and piss off every single Pureblood in her year, along with most of the Half Bloods. By the time fourth year had ended, a good majority of the Purebloods between the ages of thirteen and fifteen from the light and neutral families had taken to calling her a "Mudblood" behind her back. While this was shocking, it wasn't that surprising. Granger had crossed quite a few lines before this trend had started. The only people who did not use such a word to refer to her were those who generally did not care to meet or interact with the girl. Of course, with the way she was going, that list was fast dwindling to the point that Daphne was sure that now almost everybody in her year called her that.
Of course, the Muggleborns never did use the word as they really did not know that Granger was referred to as such.
After Professor Severus Snape's extreme reaction to Draco Malfoy's use of the term in second year, word had quickly spread to the purebloods of the other houses and nobody had dared to utter the epithet in the presence of a teacher. Granger definitely was favoured by the teachers, even Snape. Her own father had threatened to wash her mouth out if he ever caught her using that word in his presence when she had slipped up in front of him. The adults just did not seem to understand.
Daphne also could never fathom why Harry insisted on hanging with the Blood Traitor. But then again, he never did know of the Weasley family's shameful history. Well she would have to make sure to tell him about it, some time. After he woke up, of course...
Daphne gazed at her future husband. It was late evening, the very next day after she had found out that Harry and the Potions master had been admitted to the hospital wing. The details were sketchy, but from what she knew, her fiancé had been poisoned. The source of the poison was a bottle of mead found open on the coffee table. It had taken Professor Snape less than five minutes to analyse the poison and even lesser time for the (no doubt sneering) man to (with a great degree of contempt she was sure) engineer an antidote to the poison. All that was left was for the two patients to regain consciousness. Stroking his hair, Daphne held back the tears that threatened to come out. Harry looked so pale and weak...
'Damn ... and he said that he was going to throw a party tonight,' Dean commented softly with a mock pout.
'Yes, well he can't. Seeing that he is currently unconscious,' Neville replied drily.
'Yeah ... it's almost as if he did this on purpose.'
Daphne snorted, 'You have a terrible sense of humour.'
'Yes, but you have to admit, it is working!' Dean replied with a smile.
'I assure you, Thomas, I am laughing at you, not because of your amazing wit and humour.'
'I think I can take that,' Dean said gamely. 'Nobody this pretty should have to cry.'
Daphne shook her head. She had met the Muggleborn in the morning, along with the others from Harry's dorm. He seemed to be slightly off his rocker, but he was nice enough. He and Seamus Finnigan kept arguing about some Muggle game he felt was better than Quidditch. Not that Daphne cared either way.
Why couldn't Harry have been this guy's friend? Even the Hufflepuff Muggleborn, Justin Finch-Fletchley was a better choice!
Speaking of which, Daphne noticed those two speaking to each other softly in a corner. That was surprising. From what she had heard from her fiancé and Neville, the opinionated human library had a vendetta on the ginger because he was apparently trying to get into Brown's knickers. Something about misplaced sexual energies.
'So why was he planning on throwing a party?' she asked suddenly.
Neville started, 'Oh, well, I guess he didn't have the time to tell you, but he got his Apparating licence.'
'Did he?' she gave an appraising glance at the still form of her future husband.
'Oh yeah,' Dean spoke up. 'Twycross decided that he wanted Harry out of the class as soon as possible, after that little stunt he pulled.' Despite the situation, the reminder of the spectacle was enough to elicit a small momentary grin from all of them. 'So he decided to let Harry have a go. This way, Harry has no reason to even come near the Great Hall for future classes.'
'Of course, now that Susan has heard of it, the party is going to be huge. Knowing her, most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs from sixth year will soon want to come.' Neville remarked.
'Oooh, brilliant, we're going to have a proper party then!' Seamus who had just entered the Wing, said excitedly. 'It'll be much better than Ron's birthday bash.' He rolled his eyes.
'What's this about a party?'
Hearing the mumbled words, they all stopped talking. At once, four pairs of eyes turned to look at the bed they were sitting or standing around to see the occupant blinking and looking around blearily as he tried to sit up.
'Oh, Harry!' Daphne squeaked, getting up. She gave him a light hug before helping him sit up properly, adjusting his pillows so he could lean back.
'Fucking hell, it hurts,' Harry groaned as he leaned back tiredly, rubbing his chest.
'Harry, mate, how are you?' Dean asked somewhat redundantly.
Harry looked at the darker skinned boy for a moment. 'Let's see,' he replied in a raspy voice. 'My arms and legs hurt, breathing is a bit of a problem since my ribs and stomach hurt as well. And talking is a bitch since I feel as if I had a mug of molten lava ...' he paused poignantly. 'Yeah, I'm fan-fucking-tastic! What about you?' he gave a wan grin before coughing violently as the others laughed.
'Here you go.' Daphne handed him a glass of water. Drinking it, Harry leaned back with a sigh.
'Thanks, that feels better,' he said in a voice that sounded a little less strained. 'So, how long was I out this time?' he looked at them expectantly.
'Well, less than a day.' Neville replied, looking at his watch. 'It's Sunday now. Dinner is about to start in a few hours.'
'Ah, I missed Ron's party. Shame ...'
'Eh, you didn't miss much,' Seamus said regretfully. 'It was pretty boring.'
Harry fixed looked at him sceptically. 'Really?' he drawled. Seeing all three of his dorm mates nod in agreement, he said, slightly incredulously, 'What about Fred and George's little gift to Ron? They said they had some goodies for all of us.'
Neville snorted in disgust. 'It was only a few cases of butterbeer and some cans of a Muggle fizzy drink.' He shuddered in remembrance. 'I don't know how Muggles can drink that crap. It looked like rusted water! "Iron Brew," indeed...' he trailed off, muttering darkly.
'You're kidding.' Harry looked at them disbelievingly. 'But, but ... why?' he spluttered, going into another coughing fit.
'Well, it turns out that the twins did not want anyone underage drinking. Said something about it being a line they weren't willing to cross.' Dean replied. At Harry's inquiring look, he explained further. 'They left a note in the bag. Ron wasn't well pleased to be honest. None of us were.'
'Are you telling me that the twins were being responsible?'
'Well, that does about sum it up, I guess.' Neville replied.
Harry stared at the people around him in silence for a moment, slack – jawed. Suddenly his face cleared up. 'Well, I think I ought to go back to sleep,' he said calmly. 'Obviously I am dreaming because there is no fucking way on earth that the twins are responsible. This must be a weird nightmare.' He looked around. 'Yes ... it can't be anything else. Not much on the scary department though.'
'Sorry to break it to you mate, but this is real, and you are awake.' Neville said with a chuckle. 'Here I'll prove it to you.' Saying this, he pinched Harry's arm. Hard.
'Convinced now?' he asked solicitously when Harry finished swearing.
Still rubbing his arm, Harry only narrowed his eyes, not letting up on the glare.
'Excellent. See I am such a good friend.'
About to give a scathing reply, Harry noticed movement behind his friends.
'Oh crap,' he muttered darkly. 'The Grand Inquisitor approaches.' Plastering a fake smile he said as normally as he could, 'Hello, Madam Pomfrey!'
As Professor McGonagall had shooed Harry's friends away (Ron and Hermione, who had fetched the nurse in the first place, only had time to say a quick 'hi') the nurse started waving her wand over Harry, casting various diagnostic charms wordlessly, humming now and then at the end of each spell. She then conferred in a low voice with Professor Snape, who was standing behind her. The former Potions Professor only took some notes before leaving the Hospital Wing without a word, sparing only a look of deep loathing for Harry, which was returned with interest.
Once that was done, the interrogation began. Harry slowly and haltingly (as he ended up coughing half the time) told Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall the whole story in detail.
When asked why he had decided to save Slughorn first, Harry mentioned that the professor was in the throes of a seizure and seemed to be worse off than him upon ingesting the poison.
'Why, though?' Harry wondered out loud. 'Why was he more affected than me?'
'A good number of reasons,' Madam Pomfrey said briskly. 'You are young, so your immune system could have been stronger. Another theory is that it could be a result of your body's make – up. Not everybody reacts to a poison the same. It also could be because you had a smaller dose.'
Harry looked at the bed next to his. Aside from him, Slughorn was the only patient in the room.
'Professor Slughorn is going to be all right, Potter.' Professor McGonagall said gently.
'The poison that was used, according to Severus, was a blended poison called Lorchel. I think you may have studied it in your potions class?' Madam Pomfrey picked up from where the transfiguration teacher left off.
'Yeah,' Harry could vaguely recall seeing the poison mentioned in the textbook. He could not fully remember all the ingredients of it, however. He really wasn't that interested in Potions to make the effort to learn everything.
'I think the main ingredient is extract of Turban Fungus?' he shot a questioning look at Madam Pomfrey.
'Indeed, it is.' Madam Pomfrey nodded. 'While it is easy to counteract, the poison is quite fast acting. Thanks to your quick actions with the bezoar, Professor Slughorn lives to see another day. Otherwise, he would have probably died by the time we arrived.'
There was silence for a few moments before Professor McGonagall spoke up. 'Now, Potter, there is one other question I wanted to ask you. We found an empty saltshaker and a nearly empty pitcher of water next to you. We tried asking the house – elf that we saw next to you, but he was too distressed to answer. Perhaps you could shed some light?'
Wondering why the school nurse was looking at him so suspiciously, Harry told the two women about what he had done to get the poison out of his system.
'You foolish boy,' Madam Pomfrey said after Harry had finished his explanation. 'You are lucky that the poison was what it was and not something else. Next time, unless you know what it is that you have ingested, do not try and induce regurgitation! You could very well make things worse. As it is, you have some minor burns in your oropharynx and nasopharynx thanks to the highly acidic mixture of the poison and your stomach acids.' She glared at Harry for a moment, only softening when he nodded meekly.
'Good, now I am going to keep you here for the next three days at least – no complaining.' She raised her voice at the end when the boy made to protest. 'I need to make sure that the poison has been fully flushed out of your body and neutralised, not to mention that your pharynx has healed before releasing you. Count your blessings that I have decided three days and not one week.' Shooting him one last glare, she nodded to Professor McGonagall and said, 'I shall leave him for you to deal with, Minerva. And you,' she fixed Harry with another glare. 'Once the professor is done, you are going to change into your pyjamas, finish your dinner, take your potions, and go to sleep. Am I clear?'
'Yes, ma'am,'
Satisfied, the nurse stalked off towards her office, muttering something about thick – headed teenagers.
'Now, Potter,' Professor McGonagall said briskly as soon as the two of them were alone. 'Do you have any idea as to who could have wanted to poison Professor Slughorn?'
'No idea, professor,' Harry replied with a shrug. 'Besides, in the current climate, there are quite a bunch of suspects.' He said wryly.
'Although,' he frowned as he remembered something. 'I don't think that Professor Slughorn was the target. See, before he poured the mead, he did mention something about it being "too good to give to a teetotaller"? So I think that whoever put the poison meant Professor Slughorn to give it to somebody else.'
Professor McGonagall looked slightly disturbed at this revelation. Quickly recovering, she said, 'That is interesting. Obviously the culprit behind this does not know his targets well enough. I suppose we will have to have a chat with Professor Slughorn when he wakes up. Now, rest. And do not try to sneak off or you won't like the consequences.'
Harry only nodded at this, half listening to the transfiguration professor. As soon as the stern woman had left, he let out a gusty sigh. It looked like he would be spending the next few days in the tender mercies of the Grand, er, Madam Pomfrey. He grimaced as the increase in exhaled air irritated his still tender airway. Returning from the bathroom (something he found exceptionally tiring, but was much better than having to use a bedpan) and climbing into bed, where a bowl of soup appeared on a small table on his knees, Harry suddenly froze, a spoon halfway to his mouth when he realised who could potentially be behind the poisoning.
'Malfoy, you utter moron!'
That night, Harry was visited by Randolph and Dobby who wanted to make sure that their master was well (Harry had to hurriedly shush the latter as the elf burst out into noisy tears of relief).
By the next day, Harry could actually take a breath without feeling discomfort. However, he was still weak. He was still suffering from a side effect of the poisoning. Mainly, 'Diarrhoea,' the Nurse pronounced when Harry returned from the bathroom and staggered toward his bed. 'I expected as much, isn't it a good thing that you are here now?' Tsking, she handed him a goblet of potion. 'Here, this shall make it all better.'
When his friends visited him that evening, Harry found out that while the rest of the school had heard about his poisoning, the reactions were muted. The general opinion was that it was an accident and nothing more. After all, Slughorn was the Potions master. Harry was thankful for this. He did not want the attention.
By day two of his incarceration, Harry's stomach had settled somewhat, prompting Madam Pomfrey to switch him to semi – solid food. Something Harry celebrated, even if the food was bland. The pain had also come down to a manageable level. And so, by late afternoon, Harry was bored.
His friends had their classes to attend and homework to turn in, meaning that there were no visitors. Speaking of homework, Harry did not have any as he had finished everything and it being a Monday meant that any new work would only come with his friends in the evening (as depressing as the thought of wanting homework was, Harry couldn't care less at this time since he was so bored). What was more, the nurse had decided to leave the castle for some reason or the other. Now while that hadn't been much of an issue, the fact that she had decided to ward the door to prevent Harry from walking out, was.
'But, Madam Pomfrey, what if there is an emergency and I need to contact someone?' Harry said imploringly.
There was a pregnant pause as the nurse appeared to be thinking over this. Just when Harry thought he had her convinced, she raised her wand and summoned a bell. 'Here, this bell is enchanted to alert a house-elf. Use it if there is something you need. I shall instruct the elves.'
Having said this, she then waved her wand over the door and stepped through the threshold, closing it behind her. Harry grumbled as he heard her retreating footsteps. Really, there was no cause for such distrust. Even if he thought of taking a walk to get some fresh air (not that he was), he definitely would return before she arrived! After all, it wasn't as if she couldn't just find him and drag him back if he decided on a bid for freedom. And the threat of not allowing him to play Saturday's match was more effective than some stupid magical ward.
So that left Harry with no company and nothing to do. At least he had his wand...
Harry was levitating a quill, making it twirl and dance as he looked at it with an expression of boredom when he first heard a small sound. Not paying it any heed, he continued with his attempt at passing time.
When the sound resolved itself into a more audible groan, Harry stiffened and turned to the only other occupied bed.
'Professor Slughorn?' Harry inquired softly.
The man groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. Not wasting any time, Harry used the bell.
In short order, there was some excitement as Professors McGonagall and Snape entered the room, joined a moment later by madam Pomfrey.
Slughorn was far worse off than Harry, requiring bed rest for the whole week. Harry himself was let out of the Wing the following evening, with strict instructions on what to eat till the end of Friday at least.
And so, on Thursday, Harry rejoined society. Since Professor Slughorn was not well, the seventh and fifth years were treated to a dose of Potions classes by Snape. The rest of the years were relatively luckier as the Head of Slytherin House was too busy with teaching Defence to teach all the years. They had Potions classes cancelled with reading assignments handed out to them from the recovering Potions master via their Heads of Houses.
Once he was out, Harry made sure to visit his teacher every evening, ostensibly to see if the man was doing right. His main intention, however, was to subtly remind the rather well connected man just who it was that had saved his life. Slughorn may be a suck – up, but he was brilliant in his own right, a teacher in a subject Harry wasn't all that great with, and at last but not the least, knew quite a few influential people.
And even more importantly, he now presented Harry with an opportunity to finally get that last memory.
'Professor,' Harry said as he entered the Hospital Wing on Saturday evening.
'Ah, Harry,' said Slughorn, sitting up as his favourite student walked in. He took in the young man's scarlet and gold robes 'Quidditch match?'
'Yes sir,' said Harry as he sat down on a chair next to the professor. 'Against Hufflepuff. We won.' He allowed a smile to break out on his face as he thought of the match.
After the first attempt by Zacharias Smith at commentating during Gryffindor's opening match against Slytherin, most of Gryffindor was raring to see the obnoxious boy, who would be playing as one of Hufflepuff's Chasers, taken down a peg or two for his comments against the Gryffindor team.
And so, between the Gryffindor Chasers (of which Ginny had taken particular glee in harassing the boy) and the Beaters, Smith barely got to see the Quaffle, much less hold it. Halfway into the game, Zacharias was knocked out, leaving Hufflepuff one Chaser short.
However, Hufflepuff had given an impressive performance. The remaining two Chasers, particularly Cadawaller, had proven to be tenacious, showing quite a good amount of coordination and flying talent to score. So despite Gryffindor's efforts, the Hufflepuffs were leading by ten points at three hundred and twenty before Harry caught the Snitch.
It was one of the best Quidditch matches Harry had played in. Nobody played dirty, and both teams had left the field in high spirits, without any hard feelings between them. The Gryffindors were satisfied with their revenge, and the Hufflepuffs had decided that fair was fair and that their Chaser deserved what he got.
The match was made more entertaining by the commentary supplied by Luna Lovegood. Harry had no idea what possessed Professor McGonagall to have Luna commentate (in fact, he was certain that Professor McGonagall herself had no idea either) but Luna's commentary was interesting to say the least. The blond Ravenclaw appeared singularly uninterested in such mun dane things as the score, and kept attempting to draw the crowd's attention to such things as interestingly shaped clouds. But the best part was her thoughts on Zacharias Smith, who she claimed was suffering from something she called "Loser's Lurgy." Harry had to struggle really hard to stay on his broom and not to break down into laughter when he heard that!
Thoughts of the match had Harry looking at the bed situated at the other end of the room. Zacharias was still unconscious, with a turban made of bandages on his head.
'I heard the commentary from all the way here. Miss Lovegood was ... entertaining. And it seems that you did a good job.' Slughorn said weakly.
'Hufflepuff put up quite a fight.' Harry replied.
'Indeed.' They lapsed into silence for a few moments before the professor spoke up again. 'Listen, Harry, I have to thank you again. You saved my life, my boy! I owe you. If there is anything I can do, let me know. I may be old, but I have my uses.' He started coughing.
'It was nothing professor,' Harry said humbly.
'Ah, so humble,' Slughorn said affectionately. 'But I insist! There must be something I can do for you!'
'Well,' Harry began hesitantly. 'There is one thing that you could help me out with.'
'Anything, dear boy, ask away!'
Harry looked around. Drawing his wand, he cast a few privacy wards. Confident that nobody could come in and overhear the conversation, he turned to Slughorn with a grave expression on his face. 'Professor, I know that you have given the headmaster a memory where you spoke to a student of yours. I also know that the memory that you have given has been ... altered. I need that memory if I am to destroy Voldemort.'
Slughorn's face paled upon hearing Harry's words. Before he could speak, Harry cut him off. 'I would not ask this of you if it were not that important. The fate of the wizarding world depends upon that memory. You yourself know how important that memory is. Voldemort certainly has not forgotten about the information that you gave him. Right now he is occupied with other matters. If he were to win, he will come after you. He will see you as a loose end, a risk. Your best hope is to give me that memory. Do it because you owe me if nothing else. Please, Professor.'
Slughorn looked stunned at Harry's impassioned speech. 'You ... you actually plan on killing him?' He asked in wonder.
'I plan on doing that, or at least giving it my best shot.' Harry replied fervently. 'He killed my parents, not to mention countless others. I plan on avenging my parents at the very least.'
The old man's eyes grew misty as he softly muttered, 'Lily.' He closed his eyes as a long distant memory of a bright girl with red hair and green eyes played in his mind.
'I have the best chance of killing him, Professor.' Harry said softly and earnestly. 'There is a prophecy made about him and me. And I will have a better chance of winning if you give me that memory.' He wasn't exactly lying. Having that memory meant keeping Dumbledore in the dark just a little longer. Hopefully that would be enough time for Draco to assassinate the headmaster.
Slughorn gasped as Harry mentioned the prophecy. He looked at Harry steadily before nodding. 'Very well,' he said resolutely, picking his wand up. 'I don't suppose you have a phial with you?'
In response, Harry created a crystal phial silently and handed the object over.
With muttered thanks, Slughorn touched his wand to his temple. Pulling it away, he deposited the long silver strand attached to the tip and deposited it into the empty phial.
'Please do not judge me too harshly,' he said quietly as Harry pocketed the phial. 'I had no idea then.'
'I do not hold your actions against you, professor,' Harry said softly. 'You had no idea of Tom Riddle's plans. Besides,' He shook the phial in his hand. 'You have more than made up for that.' He smiled at the old man.
Slughorn returned the smile with a strained one of his own. 'You are such a good boy, Harry.' He yawned. 'Now I need my rest, why don't you go ahead and enjoy your party. You certainly deserve it. Up Gryffindor!'
'Up Gryffindor!' Harry replied with enthusiasm. Pocketing the phial and lowering the wards, he headed to the Gryffindor Tower for the victory celebrations.
'I cannot believe this happened.' Hermione said softly to Ron.
Ron just grunted. The two of them were sitting in an empty classroom after the Quidditch match. Hermione had been trying to talk to him ever since they found out that Harry had been poisoned. Unfortunately, between Lavender and classes, she had not succeeded until now.
'I mean, it's our job to look out for him,' Hermione stood up and paced as she talked. 'Dumbledore trusted us to do this. And you heard Hagrid. The Governors are thinking of shutting the school down!'
'I agree,' Ron replied. 'But we cannot tail Harry all the time to prevent something like this from happening again. What we can do is ensure that the person behind the poisoning is caught.' He paused to give Hermione a significant look. 'We both know who the likely culprit is.'
Hermione made a frustrated noise. 'Yes, but we have no proof! Nobody is willing to listen to us without any concrete evidence on our part. All we know is that Malfoy is doing something!'
'He's pretty slippery, too,' Ron commented. 'We always end up losing him. If we only had Harry's map ...' he sighed wistfully. 'Unfortunately, as the both of us know, the wards on Harry's trunk make that impossible to take without asking him. It was easy enough before because he had never changed nor upgraded those wards ever since he put them after Ginny took the diary. But now, his trunk's practically saturated with security wards!'
Hermione grimaced at that. 'It doesn't make any difference. Dumbledore told him to keep the map and the cloak with him at all times, remember?'
'Yeah, and I doubt lifting it from his pocket is going to work again. He's probably put a few safeguards there too.'
The room was silent for a moment as the two thought about what to do.
'Do you think we should tell Harry about all of this and include him?' Ron spoke up hesitantly, bringing up an old topic that had been discussed quite a few times before.
Hermione's reply was the same as it had been. 'No,' she said, 'Let him concentrate on Voldemort.'
Drawing herself up, she continued. 'We don't need the map. We can catch Malfoy on our own. We just need to be careful and sneaky. It shouldn't be too hard. Malfoy has never been smart or stealthy. It's only a matter of time before we catch him.'
Personally Ron disagreed with Hermione, but he held his tongue. A man has to choose his battles. Besides, he wanted to get back to Common Room. The rest of the house was undoubtedly throwing a party to celebrate Gryffindor's victory. As the Keeper who had blocked quite a few shots, and had done a good job, Ron wanted to bask in the limelight and the admiration. The second reason for not wanting to argue with Hermione was that in doing so, he would end up complimenting the blond git. Something he had no intention of doing.
'Right,' Hermione's voice cut through. 'I guess that's it for now. I suppose that you'd want to return to Lavender.'
Her bitter words brought back the tension that existed between the two of them lately. Not knowing what to say, Ron just got up and left the room. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but being reminded of who was waiting for him dampened his enthusiasm for the party. Lavender had become rather possessive and clingy of late. If she wasn't so fit, Ron would have dumped her already. As things stood, he was close to dumping her anyway.
Hermione gave out a gusty sigh when the door closed. The three of them had become a bit distant with each other over the year. Ron was off in his own little world with Lavender (her face twisted in disgust at her dorm mate's name), Harry was ... well, her friend had finally started embracing his popularity and fame. Barely a day went by when Hermione did not see him surrounded by a minimum of three people. And what was more, he was now engaged to be married. That was pretty shocking.
She did not trust Daphne Greengrass. The girl was from Slytherin. Hermione initially wondered if she was with Malfoy, but then she had never seen her with the blond ponce. However, at the same time, she couldn't help but notice the glacial looks sent hers and Ron's way by the Slytherin. Yes, Hermione was sure that she was up to something.
Oh well, one thing at a time. Hermione sighed again. She was not looking forward to going to the common room. Now that Ron and Harry had gone their separate ways, she was all alone. She could never connect well with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. And her only close female friend, Ginny Weasley, had her own social circle. Hermione supposed she could hang around them. But the fact that she was hanging out with a bunch of fifth years was not something she relished. Oh well, beggars couldn't be choosers. There was no way she could do any studying in the common room anyway.
'Draco,'
The blond jerked as his name was called. Immediately recognising who the voice belonged to, he turned and narrowed his eyes, 'Potter.'
Harry stepped out from the shadows with a smirk. 'Jumpy, are we?'
Draco sniffed dismissively. 'You are late,' he said haughtily.
Rolling his eyes, Harry checked his watch. 'Yes, about a minute. Or is it one week, a day and a minute? I'm sorry,' he said sarcastically. 'But I was indisposed. Some idiot decided to poison me.' He fixed Draco with a glare.
'Well, it wasn't my fault.' Draco said defensively. 'That old twat was supposed to give it to Dumbledore who was supposed to drink it and die.'
Harry sighed and rubbed his nose. 'And how did you get it to Slughorn?'
'I had Rosmerta give it to him.'
'I'll go out on a limb here and assume that Rosmerta is under the Imperius. So you basically intended to poison Dumbledore by having him drink mead from a bottle given to him by Slughorn which was in turn given to him by Rosmerta.' He paused to give the other boy a look before uttering four words. 'You are a moron.'
'Watch your mouth. Don't think I can't wipe the floor with you, Potter!' Draco said with venom, making to draw his wand out.
'Oooh, I am so scared,' said Harry sarcastically. 'Drop the theatrics, Draco. Because I seem to remember the last time we duelled, you ended up losing. And that was despite having the first shot. This time you don't have that advantage.' Smirking, he indicated down to his left hand with his eyes, making Draco notice the wand pointed at him.
'I see you have the latest in wand holster technology,' Draco was not successful in keeping the jealousy from showing. Insanely expensive to get in the black market, with very low numbers, only the top Death Eaters had them.
'Well, Ollivander does keep stock,' Harry remarked casually. 'Now as for your latest "grand plan" in killing Dumbledore, the reason I consider that to be moronic is because you did not do any preparation or research. If you had, you would know that Slughorn is notorious for liking the good things in life and keeping such things for himself. Ergo, he would not have parted with that bottle.'
'Yeah, whatever,' Draco said dismissively. 'I am waiting for that apology you owe me, Potter.'
Harry was thrown by the sudden change in subject. 'What apology?'
'For writing all over me!' The blond said indignantly. 'That was permanent water proof ink, Potter! I had to wash my body five times and use countless cleaning spells to get rid of it all!'
'Well, I think you might have to write to the company that makes the ink. It can't really be permanent if it came off. Besides, you did look like you needed to bathe a few times.'
Draco's eye twitched at Harry's comeback as he grasped for something to say.
'Oh, stop your whinging,' Harry said irritably, before Draco could articulate his rage. 'What are you, some sort of diva? How about we get down to business? It's getting late. I have better things to do than listen to your moaning.'
'Fine,' Draco snarled, a pink tinge on his face showing how furious he was. He glared at Harry who just raised his eyebrow with a clearly unimpressed look on his face.
Huffing, the blond started explaining the plan in detail, giving Harry the different difficulties he faced.
'So your main problem is getting the parts for the cabinet into the school.' Harry tapped his chin, looking at the cabinet. 'You get them through the passage leading to Honeydukes right? The final climb to the statue of the witch would be hard to do. Not to mention breaking into Honeydukes itself.'
'The parts have been easy to conceal so far, and the security in the sweet shop is lax,' the blond said defensively. 'I would have had Crabbe and Goyle to collect the stuff, but those two lugs nearly got caught the first time round.' He muttered under his breath. 'Idiots.'
'But it is still risky.' Harry paused for a moment. 'Right, I think I can help there. For one there is a passage behind a mirror on the fourth floor. Currently it is caved in, but I can get it repaired. I have good reason to believe that it leads to a much more accessible location. That would make it easier for Rosmerta to get the stuff to you. Of course, you still have to worry about the patrols. But I think that your prefect status helps there. I don't know if you know this, but the portraits can do a bit of spying themselves.'
Draco sneered. 'Why do you think I have to keep that bloody charm up all the time?'
'I have a way to help you get around that.'
He looked sceptically at Harry
'Don't worry,' Harry replied brightly. 'I help you so you help me. Now is there anything else?'
'Well, there are your friends. The Blood – Traitor and that Mudblood have been following me everywhere I go! Thankfully they aren't that good. They even have stopped following me off late.'
'Then I guess you don't need any help from me so far.' Harry said lightly, choosing not to react to Draco's name calling. He smirked when he saw the momentary look of surprise flash across the arrogant boy's face. Draco's petulance wasn't worth his time.
'Now, in case you need more assistance, use this.' Harry fished out a mirror from his pocket. 'I have another one just like it, say my name into the mirror, and we can communicate.'
Draco took the mirror, trying and failing to hide an impressed look from showing on his face at the ingenuity of the device.
'I'll get back to you on the portrait situation. Until next time ... cousin...' With a cheery wave, Harry melted into the shadows, leaving the scowling blond in the dark.