𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆, Marina dug into the delicious feast and started to devour some steak.

Dumbledore then suddenly clapped his hands again.

"Everyone, May I introduce our new Athrimancy teacher .... Professor Viviana Madrigal! Let's wish her a warm welcome of a school year!" Dumbledore exclaimed. Everyone clapped very ecstatically for the very young and beautiful teacher. Professor Madrigal wore a revealing purple jumpsuit, which matched well with her tan skin and black ink hair.

Marina's mouth dropped looking at the new teacher. "She's ... so ..."

"Hot." Pavarti spat.

"I'm into men but ... she's so ..." Lavender mumbled. "Wow."

"She must be no older than twenty." Marina whispered rapidly, "She's gorgeous. She gives me main character vibes."

"For sure the main character is her. And you." Pavarti noted.

"Well aren't we lucky ducks for taking Athrimancy this year? In fact, we have three times a week I believe." Lavender said.

"Oi! Ronnie, Mione, you two taking Athrimancy?" Marina shouted at them.

Hermione nodded. "We are, so is Harry I think. And Neville too."

"Lucky us." Marina smirked.

"Where's Harry gone?" Pavarti asked looking at the Gryffindor table. "I never saw him get off the train Y'know."

"Dunno, probably doing Chosen One shit." Marina shrugged continuing to eat. "Hey look, Shadid's waving at you."

The handsome boy waved coolly to Pavarti, as Pavarti waved back.

"I've already got a ship name for you two. Pavdid. I bet your babies would adorable." Marina teased.

Pavarti rolled her eyes and continued to eat a lamb chop.

"I hope Harry's okay!" Lavender added as she turned pink shade by looking at Ron.

"He'll be fine." Marina said, now feeling her stomach ache badly. And not because of the food.

"Will stop eating!" Hermione shouted loudly hitting Ron with her book. "Your best friend is missing."

"Darling if Harold was missing, the whole glove would be on lockdown." Marina scoffed.

"Calm down you lunatic he's right there." said Ron, goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.

"Where've you — shit, what've you done to your face?" Marina shrieked looking at him.

"Someone cares." Hermione mumbled smirking.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" said Harry worriedly, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection.

"You're covered in blood you idiot. Come here —"

Harry leaned in to Marina, (making the teens go red) as Marina raised her wand and shouted Terego. Causing the blood to vanish.

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling his now clean face still blushing. "How's my nose looking? Hey! Who's the new teacher?"

"Professor Madrigal. Total hottie. She's teaching Athrimancy." Marina told him.

"Good thing we're taking Athrimancy this year mate!" grinned Ron to Harry.

"Anyways, your nose looks fine Harry." said Hermione anxiously. "Why shouldn't it? What happened? We've been terrified!"

"I wonder if Dumbledore has mentioned You-Know-Who yet?" Lavender wondered.

"Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast, doesn't he? It can't be long now." Marina said.

"So what did Professor Slughorn want?" Pavarti asked.

"To know what really happened at the Ministry and fawn over Potter," said Marina.

"Everyone wants to know what happened don't they?" Lavender noted.

"Well Slughorn doesn't need to fawn Harry anyway, that Romilda Vane does enough of that." Pavarti said eating some chocolate gateau.

"Who?" Marina spat with venom.

"Romilda Vane, fifth year Gryffindor I think. She was attempting to talk to Harry wasn't she Lav? We saw her when we were getting some hot chocolate from the trolley lady." Pavarti explained.

"Yeah, Hermione told me she's going to try and win over Harry." Lavender added.

"Yeah right. She's probably some bogus-looking troll." Marina said angerily forking her pudding.

Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

"What happened to his hand?" gasped Lavender.

Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking; Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now . . . to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you . . ."

"It looks as if it's died," said Marina, with a nauseated expression. "I guess magic can't fix everything can 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 Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"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."

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn" — Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow — "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"Potions?" said Marina.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Oh hell no!" Marina said loud enough for the Gryffindor table to hear. "Um...sorry about that."

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up at the mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Marina was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the features she loathed so much.

"Well, there's one good thing," Harry said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."

"What are you rambling on about you moron?" asked Marina.

"That's Captain Moron to you Marina." smirked Harry, "And that's job's jinxed. No one's lasted more than a year. . . . Quirrell actually died doing it. . . . Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death. . . ."

"Harry!" said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.

"He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said Ron reasonably. "That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody didn't."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not 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 own and others' safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.

"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 tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches were moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

"𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓!" said Hermione, who was walking nearby Marina and her friends with Ron and Harry, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a limegreen disk clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it over," she told him sternly.

"Oh come on Hermione, he's just having a bit of fun." Marina added.

"They're banned Marina!" Hermione shrieked, "And as a prefect I must follow the rules!" 

The scowling boy handed over the snarling Frisbee, ducked under her arm, and took off after his friends. Ron waited for him to vanish, then tugged the Frisbee from Hermione's grip.

"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these." Ron smiled.

Lavender laughed at Ron's antic, making Ron looked rather pleased with himself.

"What the fu —"

Marina and Pavarti looked at their friend in disgust as they entered the Great Hall.

After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.

Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his O.W.L. results.

"Herbology, fine," she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations.' Professor Madrigal will be happy with your Exceeds Expectations in Athrimancy. But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an Acceptable' really isn't good enough to continue to N.E.W.T level. I just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."
Neville hung his head. Professor McGonagall peered at him through her square spectacles.

"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."

Neville looked miserable and muttered something about "my grandmother wants."

"Hmph," snorted Professor McGonagall. "It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have — particularly after what happened at the Ministry."

Neville turned very pink and blinked confusedly; Professor McGonagall had never paid him a compliment before.

"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my N.E.W.T. class. I see that you have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charms, however — why not try for a N.E.W.T. in Charms?"

"My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option," mumbled Neville.

"Take Charms," said Professor McGonagall, "and I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless."

Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.

Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati, whose first question was whether Firenze, the centaur, was still teaching Divination.

"He and Professor Trelawney are dividing classes between them this year," said Professor McGonagall, a hint of disapproval in her voice; it was common knowledge that she despised the subject of Divination. "The sixth year is being taken by Professor Trelawney."

Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.

"Marina . . ." smiled Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes as she turned to her. "Charms, Athrimancy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration . . . all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Marina, very pleased. I dearly hope you choose a career in the Transfiguration world, I will miss having such a successful Transfiguration student in class next year. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought you wanted to have a career in the International Magical Office of Transfiguration Law? You've surely got the traits to study Transfiguration Law."

"Well I wanted to be a lawyer for Transfiguration, but Snape told me I had to get an 'Outstanding' in my O.W.L., Professor."

"And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject. Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T students with 'Exceeds Expectations' at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"

"But I didn't buy the books or any ingredients or anything —"

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some," said Professor McGonagall. "Very well, Marina, here is your schedule. Oh, by the way — twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you and Potter, and Marina?"

"Yes miss?" Marina said as she stood up.

"Don't kill Potter during your Quidditch practices. Try to work together without causing violence." McGonagall smiled.

A few minutes later, Ron and Harry was cleared to do the same subjects as Marina and Lavender (despite Divination), and Marina and Lavender left the table together.

An hour later after DADA, which was horrid for others, but easy for Marina, it was time for Potions.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors.
"Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making. . . ."

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.

"Harry, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything — nor's Ron or Marina — we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see —"

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention . . . not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You both 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, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts. . . ."

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with three very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry, Marina and Ron along with three sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off, "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 indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Marina raised herself slightly in her seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known. . . . Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too . . . Who can — ?"

Marina raised her hand.

"Yes Miss.Weasley?"

"Polyjuice potion sir." Marina blurted.

"Very good. Now, this one here . . . yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused at Hermione's raised hand.

"It's Amortentia!" Hermione answered.

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

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

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and toothpaste —"

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

Marina pushed her hair back to see Blaise Zabini, the handsome Sytherlin, staring at her. She ignored this and smelt treacle tart, broom polish, and....aftershave?

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.

Hermione turned to Harry, who was standing next to Marina, with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year — I'd've told him so if he'd asked me!"

"Don't be jealous Ronnie." Marina sang quietly.

Ron looked slightly disgruntled.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a power- ful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love. . . .

"And now," said Slughorn, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho," said Slughorn again. Harry was sure that Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Marina, who raised her hand, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Weasley?"

"It's liquid luck," said Marina folding her arms. "It makes you lucky."

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighten. Now all Harry could see of Harry was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "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 drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.

"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?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.

"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty- four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, thought Marina, the effect was good.

"And that," said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the sur- rounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a mi- nuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions . . . Quidditch, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only . . . and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion- Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. Marina bent swiftly over the book Slughorn gave her and started to work on her Potion.

The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Harry turned to Marina.

"Can I borrow your silver knife?"

Marina nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was now magenta shade of purple, though it was meant to be lilac.

"And time's . . . up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn moved slowly among 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 Marina were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod. Slughorn gave Marina a bright smile. 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 as the class then left the dungeon.

"Never knew you would be the Potions Master Potter. Well done." Marina said.

"Thanks. I guess i got lucky, I suppose," said Harry (who felt his face burning at the compliment.)

Once Marina, Lavender, and Pavarti reached the common room after dinner and sat in a circle near the fireplace, Harry and Hermione joined them.

"I suppose maybe you just needed a different teacher for Potions, at least you can qualify to be an Auror now," Hermione shrieked.

Marina then put a cigarette in her mouth. "How was Divination with that centaur?"

"It was good." Pavarti said flipping through her Divination homework.

"We've got Trelawney tomorrow though." Lavender said handing Harry a letter. "Oh Harry, I was going to the Owlery during lunch and a black dog handed me this letter, it's for you!"

Harry looked confused as he opened the letter, that turned to be a Howler somehow.

"HARRY JAMES POTTAH!" shouted Sirius through the Howler, "I DON'T KNOW HOW THE BLOODY HELL YOU ARE YOUR FATHERS SON IF YOU HAVEN'T ASKED OUT MARINA YET?! GINNY AND I HAD A HARRINA MEETING YESTERDAY, DONT ASK HOW I SNUCK HER OUT OF THE CASTLE...BUT WERE SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU! YOU'VE OBIVOUSLY HAVEN'T GOTTEN YOIR FATHER'S COURAGE FOR ASKING OUT THE SAME GIRL FOR SIX DAMN YEARS AND GETTING REJECTED AGAIN! YOU BEST HOPE I DONT COME OVER THERE POTTAH AND MAKE YOU ASK OUT MARINA WEASLEY THIS YEAR OR I WILL SEND ANOTHER HOWLER FOR MERLINS SAKE! Oh blimey, Toula's coming...and she doesn't know I'm sending a Howler...oh shit gotta go! Remember what I said Harry!"

Harry's eyes were wide as Marina and Pavarti was crying with laughter while Hermione and Lavender were giggling. Of course, Ron looked like he was about to kill Harry.

Harry looked to Marina, "Umm...."

"I'm not going out with you Potter."

"Fair enough. What about a visit to Kitchens? I'm sure the elves won't mind giving us two slices of pie."

"Deal, race you!" Marina insisted.

As the two ran out out the common room, Ron looked to Hermione with a worried expression his face.

"Hermione, you don't think Harry fancies Marina does he? Cause that's my sister —"

"No Ronald, they're just friends...." Hermione smiled kindly then mumbled the last bit, "for now, because if not I owe Madame Pomfrey three galleons. And no way am I losing a bet to her."

"What was that?"

"Oh nothing...me and Madame Pomfrey...let's just say we had discussion."