CHOSEN ONE

24

He holds up a tiny sealed vial full of golden liquid.

"The name of this potion is Felix Felicis. I expect, my dear, that you can tell me what that is?" Erin raise her hand

"Oh! That's...luck potion, sir. Liquid luck."

"Indeed! Quite controlled except in the most minute doses, and highly illegal in sporting events, examinations, or elections. But on an ordinary day, the contents of this vial would provide twenty-four hours of perfect bliss. Now, how can you win this little vial? I am putting you all to the task of producing a cauldronful of Draught of the Living Death. I know, I know it is far more advanced than anything you have done so far. I do not expect anyone to do it perfectly. But whoever makes the most succesful attempt, will, at the end of the class, win little Felix here. The best of luck."

Ron and Harry and most of the rest of the class open their books. Erin and Draco is already heading to the storage shelves Hermione followed them.

Later in class. Slughorn has a large pocket watch that he consults, then begins to walk down the aisles, looking into the cauldrons

"Time's up! Let us see how you have all done."

Hermione is looking into Erin's cauldron. She is astounded, speaks quietly to Erin.

"How did you-- Erin, the text says you're not even supposed to be able to finish it within an hour. That looks like the completed potion!"

"Very nice; very good; hmm; oh, you used a brass stirring rod, didn't you, Mr. Finnegan, too bad; very good; not bad at all, Miss Patil. Well! Miss Granger, I could have guessed you'd do so well. Very nice indeed! I think-- Oh, my. Oh, my, Ms. Rosier, I was not wrong about you--you have your mother's cleverness, don't you! Why, that's perfect, it looks very nearly completed, even in such a short time! Class, we have a winner. Remember, no sporting competitions! All right, class, very nicely done for your first day."

Everyone begins to pack up. Hermione puts her things in her bag with a neutral expression, not looking at Erin.

"I suppose you think I cheated?"

She looks up at her, obviously not quite wanting to go that far with her thoughts. She chooses words that are a gentle compromise.

"No not really."

At DADA

"You have had five different teachers on this subject. The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a head is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed. Mutating. Indestructable."

Harry's expression is resentful, but a little torn--Snape is clearly promising to be a more useful teacher than many they've had.

"You are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. We shall begin to remedy that. Those who progress in magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this; it is a question of concentration and mind-power which some lack."