which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

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. Harry 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—?”

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

“lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she said.

Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; she, after

all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year.

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one her... 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 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 according to what attracts us,

and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and—”

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

“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.”

Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to

Harry, who was sitting next to her.

“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.

Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched him in the face. Hermione turned to Harry 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!”

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 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 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. Now all Harry could see of Malfoy 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.”