The weather beyond the train windows was as patchy as it had been all summer; they passed through stretches of the chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Ron and Hermione entered the compartment at last.

"Hey, babe," Hermione greeted Johnny with a tender kiss, placing herself on his lap.

"Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I'm starving," said Ron longingly, slumping into the seat beside Harry and rubbing his stomach. "Hi, Neville. Hi, Luna. Guess what?" he added, turning to Harry. "Malfoy's not doing prefect duty. He's just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed."

"What did he do when he saw you?"

"The usual," said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. "Not like him, though, is it? Well... that is"--he did the hand gesture again--"but why isn't he out there bullying first years?"

"Dunno," said Harry, but his mind was racing.

"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad," suggested Johnny, wrapping his arms around Hermione's waist. "Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"I don't think so," said Harry. "I think he's--"

But before he could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Johnathan Grindelwald, Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet. She was holding out three scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Johnny, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment. "Oh, and the Professor says he's sorry he can't invite Hermione Granger, there just wasn't enough room."

"What is it?" Ron demanded, as Johnny unrolled his.

"An invitation," said Hermione, reading Johnny's invitation.

Johnny,
              I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. Please tell Ms. Granger there just isn't enough room and she's more than welcome to join us next time.

Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Neville, looked perplexedly at his own invitation.

"New teacher," said Harry. "Well, I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?"

"But what does he want me for?" asked Neville nervously, as though he was expecting detention.

"No idea," said Johnny, which wasn't entirely true, though he had no proof yet that his hunch was correct.

"Listen," said Harry, seized by a sudden brain wave, "let's go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we might get a good look at Malfoy on the way, see what he's up to."

This idea, however, came to nothing: the corridors, which were packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, were impossible to negotiate while wearing the cloak. Every now and then, students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at Harry. The exception was Cho, who darted into her compartment when she saw Harry coming. As Harry passed the window, he saw her deep in determined conversation with her friend Marietta, who was wearing a very thick layer of makeup that didn't entirely obscure the odd formation of pimples etched across her face.

When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they weren't Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, Harry and Johnny was the most warmly anticipated.

"Harry, Johnny, m'boy's!" said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of them so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom! Afraid there isn't much space, so Johnny, would you kindly take a seat next to Ms. McLaggen?"

Johnny nodded uncomfortably and took the seat on Slughorn's right, right next to a Gryffindor girl who was eyed Johnny up and down with a seductive smirk. Johnny cleared his throat, sipping from a glass of water and avoided looking at the girl.

At a gesture from Slughorn, Harry and Neville sat down opposite each other in the only two empty seats, which were nearest the door. Johnny glanced around at their fellow guests. He recognised Blaise, who was grinning at Johnny; there was also a seventh-year boy Johnny didn't know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she wasn't entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.

"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Johnny, Harry and Neville. "Johnny, I'm aware you know Blaise Zabini, he is in your house, of course--"

"He's a Stronzo (asshole)," said Johnny in Italian, causing Blaise to burst into laughter.

"Sorry Professor," Blaise apologised. "It's just I haven't heard Johnny speak Italian since first year, it's rather funny hearing it now."

"No problem, dear boy! This is Charlotte McLaggen, perhaps you've come across one another--? No?"

Charlotte, a rather slim, dark haired girl, raised a hand, and Harry and Neville nodded back at her. Johnny, however, squeaked as Charlotte lowered her hand and placed it on his thigh. Being the King of the Supernatural doesn't mean you're any less awkward.

"--and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether--?"

Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

"--and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.

Ginny grimaced from behind Slughorn's back.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on Licorice Wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things... Pheasant, Belby?"

Belby started, and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Johnny, Harry and Neville, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

"Anapneo," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

"Not... not much of him, no," gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose..." said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Er... he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..."

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to Charlotte instead.

"Now, you, Charlotte," said Slughorn, looking around a very stiff Johnny, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said Charlotte airily, twisting a dark curl around her finger as she gazed at the side of Johnny's face. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour--this was before he became Minister, obviously--"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me..."

It was as Johnny had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential... everyone except Ginny. Blaise, who was interrogated after Charlotte, had a famously beautiful witch for a mother, she had been married seven times to extremely rich men, and eventually the men had died and his mother inherited the gold. It was Neville's turn next: this was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix and Jakob and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At the end of Neville's interview, Johnny had the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parents' flair.

"Ah, the King of the Supernatural's!" Said Slughorn happily, nudging Johnny's shoulder. "I've heard the story! You survived a werewolf bite and it turns out you had a different mutation to the others! Very interesting indeed m'boy! And it's not just that! You and Harry are related to the famous Fleamont Potter! Creator of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion!"

Johnny could tell Harry had no idea of this information.

"And of course, Gellert Grindelwald!" Said Slughorn, looking rather excited and somber. "Very good friend of mine, of course! Spent my teenage years beside him and Dumbledore! Thick has thieves we were! But of course, the papers only mention the great Albus Dumbledore! How is he doing these days, Johnny?"

"He's fine, P-Professor," said Johnny weakly, taking a glance at Charlotte who was having fun teasing the boy. "H-he's a free man now, he's living somewhere in London."

"Ah, that's right!" Said Slughorn. "He recently had gotten a job as the personal bodyguard for the Minister of Magic! His picture was in the paper! Hasn't aged a day in eighty odd years, and now," said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compere introducing his star act. "Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!"

He contemplated Harry for a moment as though he was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, "'The Chosen One,' they're calling you now!"

Harry said nothing. Belby, Charlotte, and Blaise were all staring at him.

"Of course," said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, "there have been rumors for years... I remember when--well--after that terrible night--Lily--James--and you survived--and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary--"

Blaise gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused skepticism. An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn.

"Yeah, Zabini, because you're so talented... at posing..."

"Oh dear!" chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking around at Ginny, who was glaring at Blaise around Slughorn's great belly. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"

Blaise merely looked contemptuous.

"Ginny couldn't harm a fly," Johnny joked, causing Blaise and Charlotte to giggle and Ginny to glare at him.

"Anyway," said Slughorn, turning back to Harry. "Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes... but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!"

Harry, who couldn't see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him.

"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond--you were there, then? But the rest of the stories--so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe--this fabled prophecy, for instance--"

"We never heard a prophecy," said Neville, turning geranium pink as he said it.

"That's right," said Ginny staunchly. "Johnny, Neville and I were both there too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual."

"You were all there too, were you?" said Slughorn with great interest, looking from Johnny, Ginny to Neville. "Yes... well... it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course..." Slughorn said, sounding a little disappointed. "I remember dear Gwenog telling me -Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies--"

He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but Johnny had the distinct impression that Slughorn hadn't finished with Harry.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the "Slug Club" at Hogwarts. Johnny couldn't wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on Nogtails. Johnny, Harry, Blaise... any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

"I'm glad that's over," muttered Blaise. "Strange man, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is a bit," said Harry. "How come you ended up in there, Ginny?"

"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith," said Ginny. "You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him--when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to got detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

"Better reason for inviting someone than because of their uncle..." muttered Blaise. Blaise waved and broke off from the four.

"I'll see you three later," said Harry under his breath, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and flinging it over himself.

"But what're you--?" asked Neville.

"Later!" whispered Harry, darting after Blaise as quietly as possible. It was hammering down with rain when they finally reached Hogsmeade Station, and Johnny was struggling with his tie.

"Come here, you prat," Hermione said, watching her boyfriend amused. She motioned for Ron, Luna, Ginny and Neville to leave without them and took Johnny's Slytherin tie into her hands and pushed him down onto a seat, straddling his waist.

"Six years and you still can't tie a tie properly," Hermione said softly, tying it up to his throat. Hermione kissed him, causing Johnny's eyes to flutter shut and grip onto Hermione's waist.

"Mione," Johnny moaned when she began grinding into him. "W-we can't."

"Why can't we?" Hermione asked in a husky whisper, moving her lips to suck and nibble on his neck.

"W-we n-need to get to the feast," Johnny moaned, trying to cease Hermione's movements. Hermione's were a luminous purple, staring hungrily at Johnny.

"I'm on Prefect duties tonight, meet me in the Room of Requirement at eleven," Hermione said, tying Johnny's tie once more and pulling him by the hand out of the train. The rain hammered them as they made it to the gates.

"Names?" came the small, squeaky voice of Professor Flitwick, who had been standing with a clipboard in his tiny hand, but Johnny's attention was quickly caught by Draco. 

"It's not a weapon, you squib, it's a walking stick!" Draco exclaimed angrily, snatching the cane away from Filch, who seemed to be searching every student's possessions on arrival. 

"Don't bite," Hermione said firmly, gripping Johnny's hand. Johnny sighed. He gave his name to Professor Flitwick, who crossed his name off the list, and walked over to the pile trunks and animal cages, leaving his things.

"Oi, Johnny," called Draco, smirking as Hermione and Johnny walked past. "Be sure to say hello to Jakob for me, will you?" 

"Sure thing," Johnny retaliated at once. "Will you tell your father I said... oh, wait," he added with a bitter chuckle. Draco went to retaliate by throwing a punch at Johnny, but he was pulled back by Stephanie, who whispered something in his ear.

""The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore said once the food was devoured and Johnny had finished catching up with an emotional Mia and Pansy, who both hugged him extremely tightly. Dumbledore was smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

"What happened to his hand?" gasped Mia.

She wasn't the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry and Johnny from the Manor. 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..."

"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Johnny whispered to Mia and Pansy. "I thought he'd have cured it by now, though... or Madam Pomfrey would've done."

"It looks as if it's died," said Pansy, with a nauseated expression. "But there are some injuries you can't cure... old curses... and there are poisons without antidotes..."

"...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 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 Johnny, Pansy and Mia together, turning to stare Slughorn,.

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

"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore didn't trust him to do it?

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, didn't stand up his mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table (which included Johnny, Mia, and Pansy cheering).

"Well, there's one bad thing," Theo said sadly. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."

"What do you mean?" asked Mia.

"That job's jinxed. No ones lasted more than a year... Quirrell actually died doing it..."

"He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said Johnny reasonably. "Slughorn might not want to stay long-term."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Johnny, Theo, and Mia weren't the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart's desire. 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 you know, each and every one of you was searched upon your arrival tonight... and you have the right to know why." 

The silence seemed to strain as Dumbledore spoke.

"Once there was a man who, like you, sat in this very Hall. Walked this castle's corridors. Slept beneath its roof. He seemed, to all the world, a student like any other. His name? Tom Riddle." 

The entirety of the Great Hall became silent. 

"Today, of course, he is known around the world by another name. Which is why, as I stand looking out upon you tonight, I am reminded of a sobering fact. Each day, every hour, this very minute perhaps, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls. But in the end, their greatest weapon remains... you." 

"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 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 moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. Johnny made his way over to Harry and Ron, shooting a concerned look at Harry's bloody nose.

"What happened to your nose?" Johnny asked, once they were at the very back of the crowd pressing out of the Hall, and out of earshot of anyone else.

Harry told Ron and Johnny. It was a mark of the strength of their friendship that they didn't laugh.

"I saw Malfoy miming something to do with a nose," Johnny said darkly.

"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry bitterly. "Listen to what he was saying before he found out I was there... "

Harry had expected Ronald Johnny to be stunned by Draco's boasts. However, the two boys were unimpressed.

"Come on, Harry, he was just showing off for Cattleman... What kind of mission would You-Know-Who have given him?"

"How d'you know Voldemort doesn't need someone at Hogwarts? It wouldn't be the first --"

"I wish yeh'd stop sayin' tha name, Harry," said a reproachful voice behind them. Johnny looked over his shoulder to see Hagtid shaking his head.

"Dumbledore uses that name," said Harry stubbornly.

"Yeah, well, tha's Dumbledore, innit?" said Hagrid mysteriously. "So how come yeh were late, Harry? I was worried."

"Got held up on the train," said Harry. "Why were you late?"

"I was with Grawp," said Hagrid happily.

"Grawp?" Johnny asked, still not fully aware of the events that had taken place while he was on the run.

"Hagrid's half-brother," Ron whispered to Johnny.

"Los' track o' the time. He's got a new home up in the mountains now, Dumbledore fixed it--nice big cave. He's much happier than he was in the forest. We were havin' a good chat."

"Really?" said Harry.

"Oh yeah, he's really come on," said Hagrid proudly. "Yeh'll be amazed. I'm thinkin' o' trainin' him up as me assistant."

Ron and Johnny both snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as violent sneezes. They were now standing beside the oak front doors.

"Anyway, I'll see yeh tomorrow, firs' lesson's straight after lunch. Come early an' yeh can say hello ter Buck -- I mean, Witherwings!"

Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of the doors into the darkness.

Johnny, Harry and Ron looked at each other. Johnny could tell that Harry and Ron was experiencing the same sinking feeling as himself.

"Neither of you are taking Care of Magical Creatures, are you?" Johnny asked.

Harry shook his head. "And you're not either, are you?"

Johnny shook his head too.

"And Hermione," said Ron, "she's not, is she?"

Johnny shook his head again. Exactly what Hagrid would say when he realised his four favorite students had given up his subject, he didn't like to think.

True to his word, Johnny made his way to the Room of Requirement at eleven pm and found a note on the door.

Dear Johnny,
                         I'm already inside, come join me.

Lots of love,
Hermione

Johnny entered the room, locking the door behind him. The room was small, with a bed on the far wall but there was another door to what Johnny assumed was a bathroom.

Johnny took a seat on the bed and waited for Hermione to come out. When the door opened a few minutes later, Hermione stood there in only red lace making Johnny bite his lip. She slowly walked over to him while swaying her hips a little more, making it ten times sexier.  

Smut warning!
"Do you like it?" Hermione asks, her purple, lustful eyes staring into Johnny's red ones.

"I love it, piccolo (baby) " Johnny whispered.

"Good, but now it's time to take it off me."

Johnny quickly stood up and pulled Hermione into him, he unhooked her bra before lifting her into his arms. Johnny turned the two 0f them around and laid Hermione down on the bed while she kissed around Johnny's neck.   

Johnny soon felt Hermione's teeth dig into his neck, making Johnny growl at her, which Hermione growled at him in return. When Hermione pulled away from Johnny's neck, it was his turn to return the favor. Johnny circled his tongue around Hermione's neck before he latched onto it, making her howl out in pleasure.  

Johnny pulled away from her neck before he started kissing down her body. When He got to Hermione's chest, he licked around her breast, taking the sensitive bid between his teeth. Hermione threaded her fingers through Johnny's hair and pushed him down further, making Johnny laugh.

"So impatient," Johnny hummed. He kissed Hermione's thigh before he hooked his fingers into the the laced thong. Johnny moaned at the sight of Hermione's wetness. He looked up at her and Hermione was looking down at him while biting her lip. "I think you need a little more time."

Hermione growled at Johnny before she pulled him on top of her. Johnny growled louder than Hermione, and she started whimpering.  

"I'm alpha,"" Johnny growled. Hermione's eyes changed to a lighter purple shade before she flipped them over. Johnny's eyes darkened and he flipped them back over, pinning her to the bed. Johnny pushed his boxers down and ran his tip through her folds, making her moan. Johnny stood up and took his boxers off all the way before hovering over her.  

Johnny pushed the tip in and she gasped. Hermione's stomach flexed as Johnny pushed further into her. Johnny stopped half way and watched Hermione's face as she tried pulling him further into her, but Johnny wasn't budging. When she gave up, Johnny slammed into her, making Hermione let out a cry of pleasure. Johnny didn't give her time to adjust before he let his hips take off. Johnny bit down on her shoulder as he moaned out in pleasure.

"You feel so good, baby," Johnny husked out.

"I need more, baby!" Hermione dug her nails into Johnny's back and gripped his hair tightly. Johnny grunted a few times before he sped up.  

Johnny sat up and Hermione grabbed his face, making Johnny look at her. They stared into each other's eyes while Johnny slammed his cock deep inside of her. The pleasure coursing throughout their bodies was incredible.

Hermione lifted her hips and Johnny his hips into her, making her moan when Johnny hit that spot inside of her. Johnny was trying to maintain eye contact, but it was hard due to the feeling of Hermione clenching around him.

"Faster, baby!" Hermione moaned while throwing her head back and breaking eye contact. Johnny sat up on his knees and placed his hands on her hips and started pulling Hermione into him with every thrust. "You making me feel so good!" She moaned out.

"Come on baby, I'm so close," Johnny moaned while he started thrusting up into her a little faster. Hermione dug her nails into Johnny's back before she let out a loud cry of pleasure. Her walls clamped down on Johnny and her juices spilled out and around him. Johnny thrusted a few more times before he groaned loudly, slamming all the way into her and shot his load deep into her.

Smut over!

The next morning, Johnny and Hermione walked into the Great Hall with all eyes on them.

"Why're they staring at us?" Hermione whispered to Harry, her and Johnny sitting down opposite them.

"Maybe it's because Hermione is wearing a Slytherin tie and robe, while Johnny is wearing a Gryffindor tie and a girls Gryffindor robe," said Harry, sending a grin to his two friends. Johnny and Hermione looked each other up and down, before quickly switching robes and ties.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. While they tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Johnny, Harry and Ron told Hermione about their embarassing conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.

"But he can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures!" Hermione said, looking distressed. "I mean, when has any of us expressed... you know... any enthusiasm?"

"I sort of liked it," Johnny said, forking a hash brown in his mouth and fist bumping Nick, Kieran and Axel as they sat down.

"That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'ya reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?"

Johnny, Harry nor Hermione answered; there was no need. They knew perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures. They avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery wave only half-heartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.

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

"Mr. Grindelwald," said Snape glancing down at the timetable. "Perfect grades to continue every subject. Is there any you wish to drop?"

Johnny gulped, taking a cautious glance at Hagrid who was in conversation with Dumbledore. Snape followed the boy's gaze, before nodding and flicking his wand.

"Any other subject?" Johnny shook his head and took his timetable.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first period Ancient Runes class without further ado. 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.' 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. 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 Professot 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 Charm 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 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.

"So, Potter, Potter..." said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes as she turned to Harry. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration... all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"

"It was, but you 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?"

"Yes," said Harry, "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, Potter, 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 in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure."

A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry and Johnny, and the three of them left the table together.

"Look," said Ron delightedly, gazing ar his schedule, "we've got a free period now and a free period after break... and after lunch... excellent."

Johnny followed them to the Gryffindor common room, which was empty apart from a half dozen seventh years.

"I thought you'd get that, well done," Katie called over, pointing at the Captains badge on Harry's chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, "you don't need to try out, I watched you play for five years..."

"You mustn't start off like that," she said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because Captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends..."

Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had taken from the fourth-year student. It zoomed around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites of the tapestry. Crookshanks's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it came too close.

"I feel like that was aimed at me," Johnny muttered.

"Don't be daft," said Harry, slapping Johnny's shoulder. "Slytherin won again last year with Mia, even though she gave you full credit for tactics."

An hour later they reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.

"Let me," said Johnny, taking the books from her arms. Hermione thanked him, giving Johnny a kiss.

"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Shame," yawned Ron.

"You wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

Johnny looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Johnny stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice?

"Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of them as he swept past, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" (he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony) "feel the Dementor's Kiss" (a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall) "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" (a bloody mass upon ground).

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

"...you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well--Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Hermione, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively, "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some," his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry once more, "lack."

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Although Snape didn't know it, Harry and Johnny had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year before Johnny's trip to Azkaban. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word, a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor from any reasonable teacher, but Snape ignored it.

"Excellent, Mr. Grindelwald," said Johnny, who silently jinxed Blaise so his front teeth grew several times in size. Johnny silently reversed the jinx causing a faint smile to appear on Snape's face. "Mr. Grindelwald, take twenty points for Slytherin."

Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Harry had his wand raised, waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.

"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while. "Here--let me show you--"

He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; all thought of non-verbal spells forgotten, he yelled, "Protego!"

His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing non-verbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly.

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor," Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Johnny, Blaise, Nick, Axel, Kieran, Selena, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively, struggling to silence their laughter.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Snape. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter... not even one of the Chosen One's."

His eyes drifted towards Johnny, who tensed.

"That was brilliant, Harry!" chortled Ron, once they were safely on their way to break a short while later.

"You really shouldn't have said it," said Hermione, frowning at Ron. "What made you?"

"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry. "I had enough of that during those 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," said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like Johnny."

"Like me?" Johnny asked.

"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorising 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! Grindelwald! Hey!"

The four looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward them holding a roll of parchment.

"For you two," panted Sloper. "Listen, Harry, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Harry. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend--"

Dear Harry and Johnny,
                                              I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.

>Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" said Ron, who had read the message over Johnny's shoulder and was looking perplexed.

"It's the password to get past the gargoyle outside his study," said Johnny in a low voice. "Ha! Snape's not going to be pleased... Harry won't be able to do his detention!"

He, Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry and Johnny. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes the Death Eaters wouldn't know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it was more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach them advanced Defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Johnny, Harry and Ron returned to the common room where they grudgingly started Snape's homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still hadn't finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period (though she considerably speeded up the process). They had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and they beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.

When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L. grade, but four other Slytherins had made it through, including Draco. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan.

"Harry," Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as Harry approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defense Against The Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old D.A. lags... And how are you, Ron--Hermione? Johnny, lovely to see you back out of the clink."

Before they could say more than "fine," the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Johnny, Harry and Blaise with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four other Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws and Ernie. This left Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione to share a table. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Johnny had ever inhaled: somehow it reminded him simultaneously of vanilla perfume, books, and something flowery. Johnny found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Ron, who grinned back lazily.

"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--we didn't realise 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 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 two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two 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. Johnny raised himself slighty in his 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 thar 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--?"

Johnny went to raise his hand, but Hermione slapped him across the back of his head so she beat him.

"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here... yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. Ir 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 porion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognised 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 according to what attracts us, and I can smell expensive cologne and broom polish and--"

Johnny and Hermione turned pink, glancing lovingly at each other.

"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."

Johnny saw Draco lean close to Theo and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Johnny, who was sitting next to her.

"Oho! 'My girlfriend is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very girlfriend of whom you spoke, Johnny?"

"Yes, sir," said Johnny proudly, linking his hand with Hermione's under the table.

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

Draco looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched him in the face. Hermione turned to Johnny with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, darling! I love you!"

"I love you too," Johnny whispered back, kissing her cheek quickly.

"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!"

Hermione smiled but made a "shushing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying. 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 powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room--oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Draco and Theo, both of who 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. Johnny was sure that Slughorn hadn't 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 Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter.

"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 Johnny, 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 surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a minuscule 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 organised competition... sporting events, 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 this 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.

Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was 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, black currant-colored liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

"I fucking hate my life," Johnny said, watching another sopophorous bean shoot across the class.

"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" Johnny 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. Johnny bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Draco had expected to be treated like him, Harry or Zabini; perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Draco 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. Johnny turned to Hermione.

"Fuck this, I'm crushing the cunt," Johnny muttered angrily, turning towards 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.

Johnny crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shriveled 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.

"Don't listen to the book," Harry whispered in his ear. "Stir it counterclockwise seven times and then once clockwise, and repeat it."

Johnny listened to Harry.He stirred counterclockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned pale pink.

"How are you both doing that?" demanded Hermione, who was redfaced 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 counterclockwise!" she snapped.

"I listened to Harry, and it worked," Johnny said with a  shrug and continued what he was doing. Seven stirs counterclockwise, one clockwise, pause... seven stirs counterclockwise, one stir clockwise...

Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice. Johnny glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his and Harry's.

"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 Johnny were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod. Then he saw Harry's and Johnny's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

"The clear winners!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, boys! Good lord, it's clear you've both inherited your mother's talent. They too was a dab hand at Potions, Lily and Evelyn were! You're lucky I made two bottles just in case! Here you are, then, here you are-- two bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Johnny slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione's face. Ron looked simply dumbfounded.

"How did you do that?" Ron whispered to Harry and Johnny as they left the dungeon.

"Got lucky, I suppose," said Harry, fist bumping Johnny.

Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, Harry told them all about the book. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered.

"I s'pose you think Johnny and I cheated?" Harry finished, aggravated by her expression.

"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" she said stiffly.

"They only followed different instructions to ours," said Ron, "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But they took a risk and it paid off." He heaved a sigh. "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 close by Johnny's left ear. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them. "Did I hear right? Harry and Johnny have been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book?"

She looked alarmed and angry. They knew what was on her mind at once.

"It's nothing," Johnny said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."

"But you and Harry doing what it says?"

"We just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny--"

"Ginny's got a point," said Hermione, perking up at once. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?"

"Hey!" said Harry indignantly, as she pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and raised her wand.

"Specialis Revelio!" she said, rapping it smartly on the front cover. Nothing whatsoever happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.

"Finished?" said Harry irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?"

"It seems all right," said Hermione, still staring at the book suspiciously. "I mean, it really does seem to be ... just a textbook."

"Good. Then I'll have it back," said Harry, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor. Johnny bent low to retrieve the book for Harry, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in small, cramped handwriting,

This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.