Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

doing; this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the ‘smooth, blackcurrant-coloured liquid’ mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.
    Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the Sopophorous Bean and had written in the alternative instruction:
    Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.
    ‘Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?’
    Harry looked up; Slughorn was just passing the Slytherin table.
    ‘Yes,’ said Slughorn, without looking at Malfoy, ‘I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn’t unexpected, dragon pox at his age …’
    And he walked away. Harry bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini; perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.
    The Sopophorous Bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Harry turned to Hermione.
    ‘Can I borrow your silver knife?’
    She nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.
    Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shrivelled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.
    His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of instructions. According to the book, he had to stir counter-clockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner had made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counter-clockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice?
    Harry stirred counter-clockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.
    ‘How are you doing that?’ demanded Hermione, who was red-faced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.
    ‘Add a clockwise stir –’
    ‘No, no, the book says counter-clockwise!’ she snapped.
    Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing. Seven stirs counter-clockwise, one clockwise, pause … seven stirs counter-clockwise, one stir clockwise …
    Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid liquorice. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else’s potion had turned as pale as his. He felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in this dungeon.
    ‘And time’s … up!’ called Slughorn. ‘Stop stirring, please!’
    Slughorn moved slowly between the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir, or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron’s cauldron. He passed over Ernie’s navy concoction. Hermione’s potion he gave an approving nod. Then he saw Harry’s, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.
    ‘The clear winner!’ he cried to the dungeon. ‘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!’
    Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins’ faces, and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione’s. Ron looked simply dumbfounded.
    ‘How did you do that?’ he whispered to Harry as they left the dungeon.
    ‘Got lucky, I suppose,’ said Harry, because Malfoy was within earshot.
    Once they were securely ensconced