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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people or places that belong to the wonderful world of Harry Potter, as they belong to J.K. Rowling. The OC (Katherine) is entirely my own.

1. Advanced Potion Making Half-blood Prince
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Chapter 3: Shocking Discoveries

Katherine Dumbledore sat down in one of the plush chairs that adorned the Headmaster's office, as the Headmaster himself stood before her. Severus had followed the two to the office as well, and now occupied the far corner near the large window that overlooked the lake.

When Severus Snape was in school at Hogwarts, he obtained his Potions book, a copy of Advanced Potion Making, signing it with his own signature and self-made nickname, The Half-Blood Prince. In the margins of this book, he wrote down many spells that he made himself, along with alteration to Potion recipies for much better effect. The spells he invented, having written them down in the margins. Advanced Potion-Making was a book written by Libatius Borage. As the title implied, this book contained advanced recipes and various other topics related to potions. This textbook had been used for many years in the education of young witches and wizards. Contest Dates: The 'Harry Potter And The Half -Blood Prince' Contest ('Contest') begins June 17, 2009 on or about 12:00:01 am Eastern Time ('ET'), and ends July 14, 2009 at 11:59:59 pm ET ('Contest Period'). During the Contest Period there are a series of Contest-related events which start and end on or about the dates and times noted below.

'Severus informed me that you did not have yourself a decent meal tonight,' Albus Dumbledore stated as he eyed up the woman in front of him.

'Is Severus my keeper now?' her tone was harsh and she looked at the elder wizard before her with fire in her eyes. Severus turned and narrowed his eyes on the witch. He opened his mouth ready to retort, but the Headmaster put a hand up, stopping him.

'He is concerned about your welfare, and further more your sanity,' he looked at her over his half moon spectacles. 'Is there something bothering you, my dear?'

'No,' she said, shrugging. 'It's just that I will have to get use to all the people and the noise again. It is just a bit overwhelming, I guess.' She looked down at her lap where her hands were firmly clasped together. 'Plus, my appetite is not what it once was. I have to take it slowly getting back to the solid foods and what not.'

'Understandable,' the Headmaster began to move to his chair behind the desk. 'I have heard rumors that the State Prison only served Mush to their inmates. I guess your condition proves that rumor true. Is there anything else you wish to talk about at this time?'

'No Headmaster,' she quietly said as she stood and began walking towards the door. 'Goodnight.' And with that she slipped out the door.

'Goodnight Katherine.' Albus sighed and sat down at his desk. There was a long silence between the two wizards, but Severus watched the Headmaster's expression carefully.

'Albus,' Severus spoke quietly. 'You are positive that she has turncoat the old ways?'

'Yes, Severus. Watch her carefully though, and report to me her habits and actions. I do not want to lose her again.'

'Of course Headmaster,' Severus stated as he walked to the door. 'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight Severus.'

The first day of classes started out as normal for the students. Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't have classes with either Snape or the new Potions mistress, but they already heard the rumors from the underclassmen that she was just as bad as Snape.

'I can't believe that McGonagall made us take Potions,' Ron complained as the three made their way towards the library. 'Why are we going to the library anyway?'

'We're going to find out who this new professor truly is,' Hermione replied they found an empty table near the archives section of the library. 'Ron, I want you to start looking through the school yearbooks starting with 1980. Harry, I want you to start looking through Daily Prophet archives starting with 1990 and working your way back.'

'And what exactly are you going to be looking for?' Ron asked her testily.

'I'm going to look into Nature's Nobility, to see if I can find out if and how she is related to the Headmaster,' Hermione implied as she dropped newspapers and yearbooks in front of the boys. After about two hours, no one came up with anything about the Potions mistress. Hermione made one last attempt and pulled out two more yearbooks.

'I doubt that she can be that old; she definitely looks younger than Snape,' she stated reluctantly, as she handed the 1979 book to the boys and began paging through the 1978 yearbook herself. After several minutes Hermione let out a grasp.

'Here she is,' Hermione practically jumped out of her chair as she slid between Harry and Ron, holding out the yearbook for the boys to see. 'Look, she graduated in '78.'

'That means she graduated with Sirius, Remus and my parents,' Harry looked eagerly at the picture of a eighteen year old witch with the same blonde hair and ice blue eyes. 'What house was she in?'

'What house do you think she was Harry,' Ron said. 'Being a Dumbledore, she was obviously in Gryffindor.'

'Unfortunately Ron, you're wrong,' Hermione pointed towards the caption under the girl's seventh year picture. 'Katherine A. Dumbledore, Slytherin Prefect.'

'Slytherin!' Harry and Ron gaped and the book in front of them.

'That means she was in the same house with…with…' Ron stammered to complete his sentence.

'With Snape.' Harry finished Ron statement as he continued to stare in disbelief. 'That's how they know each other. What else does it say about her?'

'Lets see,' Hermione thumbed her way through the caption.

'Katherine A. Dumbledore, Slytherin Prefect; Quidditch Captain; Dueling Champion & Co-Captain; Member of the Slug Club.

Katherine is known to be the first female Slytherin Quidditch player, playing the position of Seeker.
She is best known for using Wronski Feint and succeeded ten times in the dive throughout her six years on the team.
She helped to win the team five Hogwarts Quidditch Cups.

'Katherine is a three time Dueling Champion in the woman's division for Hogwarts.
She placed first in the International Dueling Championship her fourth, fifth and sixth years;
and finally placing second her seventh after taking an illegal Reducto curse to the chest and breaking several bones.

'Her future career plans are unknown, but she has received a possible contract from the Holyhead Harpies for the position of Seeker.
She is also preparing to continue her studies in potions after graduation.'

'Turn to her Quidditch team pictures,' Ron blurted out as Hermione finished the summary. She flipped to the page of the Slytherin team and the three stared at the picture of the same girl flying through the air and capturing the Golden Snitch in her outstretched hand.

'Katherine Dumbledore capturing the snitch in the Quidditch Cup Championship. Helping Slytherin win 190-30 over Gryffindor.'

'Alright, lets see her dueling team pictures,' Harry told Hermione. When she reached the page of the Dueling team, their mouths fell open. The picture showed not only Katherine Dumbledore in her dueling stance, but standing next to her, in his own dueling stance, was non other than Severus Snape.

'Snape was on the dueling team?' Ron asked as he watched the two duelers in the picture change for their stances to firing spells towards the camera.

'Seventh years Severus Snape and Katherine Dumbledore helped the Hogwarts Dueling Team to win the 1978 International Dueling Team Championship
that was held in France. Snape placed first in the men's division, while Dumbledore placed second in the women's, bringing the team's winning score to 267 points.'

Hermione finished reading the caption under the picture of the witch and wizard that were now their professors.

'Well, that confirms when she went to school, but what happened to her between then and now?' Harry asked as Hermione rose from her chair and began probing through the Daily Prophet archives again, pulling out all the newspapers between 1978 and 1981 and placed them on the table in front them.

'Accio, Katherine Dumbledore,' Hermione stated as she pointed her wand towards the stack of paper. Several papers flew out into her hand as she sat back down in the chair between Ron and Harry. Harry picked up the first paper dating February 20, 1979.

'Katherine Dumbledore To Sign Contract With The Holyhead Harpies.' Harry read the title of the article then starting on the small paragraph before him.

'Katherine A. Dumbledore, 1978 Hogwarts Graduate, flew at team try-outs yesterday afternoon, proving herself worthy of
becoming Holyhead Harpies' new Seeker. The team's owner plans to have her sign the contract tomorrow,
but she will not begin her official season until January of 1982, when Meredith Glasson's contract expires and plans to retire.'

'Here's another one.' Ron grabbed a paper dated August 16, 1981. 'TWO NEW PROFESSORS ADDED TO HOGWARTS STAFF.'

'Hogwarts will be adding two new professors to the staff this coming school year.
Severus Snape, Master of Potions, will be taking over Horace Slughorn's position of Potions Professor,
while Katherine Dumbledore, Potions Mistress, will be taking over
Professor Welsh's position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.'

'So she taught here before,' Hermione continued to ruffle through the newspapers that were laying on the table in front of them.

'It still doesn't explain how she is related to the Headmaster though,' Ron groaned as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

'No, but this might,' Hermione caught her breath as she held another paper out in front of her. 'Katherine Dumbledore Arrested.'

'What? What's the date?' Harry asked as he peered over Hermione's shoulder to get a better look at the article.

'October 5, 1981.' Hermione took a deep breath before beginning the article.

'Katherine A. Dumbledore, niece of Hogwarts Headmaster and famous wizard, Albus Dumbledore, was arrested Saturday, October 3rd by Auror Alastor Moody,
during a Death Eater attack in Wales. Her trial is to start at 10 a.m. this morning. More to follow in the evening edition.'

Hermione finished the small article that contained the same picture of Katherine that was used in her seventh and Ron began searching for the evening edition of the Daily Prophet until they found the one their were looking for.

'KATHERINE DUMBLEDORE, DEATH EATER, SENTENCED TO LIFE IN PRISON,' Harry began to read, but stop to acknowledge the picture of the sneering blonde woman bound to a chair in front of the Wizengamot.

'Katherine A. Dumbledore, 21, was sentenced to life in prison by the Wizengamot early this morning.
Dumbledore was arrest, Saturday, October 3rd during a Death Eater attack that resulted in the murder of Benjy Fenwick.
Auror Alastor Moody was only able to arrest Dumbledore, before three other Death Eaters disapparated.

'Moody report that Fenwick was brutally killed by at least four Death Eaters, who fired a curse that blasted Benjy to pieces,
and then disposed of his remains. According to Auror Alastor Moody, after returning to the scene
in search for Benjy's body, only found 'bits of him.'

'Dumbledore's only statement during her trial was 'the Dark Lord will conquer the Wizarding world,
and those who served him well will be greatly rewarded. As for you blood-traitors and mudbloods, you will suffer his wrath.'

'After her deliberation, Dumbledore was sentenced to life in New England's Wizarding Prison in the United States,
at the request of her own uncle, Albus Dumbledore.'

'Bloody hell, a Death Eater?' Ron gaped at the newspaper that laid on the table in front of them.

'Well, obviously a former one at that. Or she wouldn't be teaching here,' Hermione exclaimed as she folded the newspaper and returned it to its' rightful spot.

'So she knows Snape more than just a classmate,' Harry leaned back in his chair trying to grasp all of the information that he just took in. 'And she's the Headmaster's niece. What would drive her to become a Death Eater though?'

'Good question,' Hermione sat down between them again, and the three contemplated the situation at hand. 'Well, we better not dwell on this too long. We have her for double potions tomorrow afternoon.'

'Yeah, and Snape right away in the morning,' Ron grudgingly pushed back his chair and got himself ready to go. 'It's going to be a bloody awful day.'

a/n: Thank you so much to RedStormRocks for the review. Chapter 4 probably won't be posted until Monday, due to the fact I have to work extra hours this weekend :(

Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room before breakfast next morning. Hoping for some support in his theory, Harry lost no time in telling Hermione what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the Hogwarts Express.

'But he was obviously showing off for Parkinson, wasn't he?' interjected Ron quickly, before Hermione could say anything.

'Well,' she said uncertainly, 'I don't know. ... It would be like Malfoy make himself seem more important than he is ... but that's a big lie to tell. . . .'

'Exactly,' said Harry, but he could nor press the point, because so many people were trying to listen in to his conversation, not to mention staring at him and whispering behind their hands.

'It's rude to point,' Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year boy as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Ron sniggered. 'I love being a sixth year. And were going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax.'

'We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!' said Hermione, as they set off down the corridor.

'Yeah, but not today,' said Ron. 'Today's going to be a real doss, I reckon.'

'Hold it!' said Hermione, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly in his hand. 'Fanged Frisbees banned, hand it over,' she told him sternly. 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.'

Hermione's remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle; Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron's remark highly amusing. She continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself.

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, 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 !' she said, looking distressed. 'I mean, when has any of us expressed . . . you know . . . any enthusiasm?'

'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.?'

Neither 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 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.

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 Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome 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.

'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 the two 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.'

They returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a half dozen seventh years, including Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in his first year.

'I thought you'd get that, well done,' she 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.

Advanced Potion Making Half-blood Prince

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.

'We got so much homework for Runes,' she said anxiously when Harry and Ron joined her. '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.

Harry 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.'

You believe . . . like you haven't watched them all come and go, hoping you'd be next, thought Harry scathingly.

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.WL. 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.'

Harry 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 rhe 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 Patil 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 nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal 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 (over in the corner, Malfoy sniggered), '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.'

Harry knew Snape was thinking of their disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year. He refused to drop his gaze, but glowered at Snape until Snape looked away.

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

Although Snape did not know it, Harry 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. 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, thought Harry bitterly, but which Snape ignored. He
swept between them as they practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry and Ron struggling with the task.

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 nonverbal 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 nonverbal spells, Potter?'

'Yes,' said Harry stiffly.

'Yes, sir.'

'There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor.' The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however , Ron, Dean, and Seam us grinned appreciatively.

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

'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, tndestructble stuff --

'Well,' said Hermione, 'I thought he sounded a bit like you.'

'Like me?'

'Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorizing 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 was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth memorizing as The Standard Book of Spells that he did not argue.

'Harry! Hey, Harry!'

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

'For you,' panted Sloper. 'Listen, 1 heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?'

'I'm not sure yet,' said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. 'I'll let you know.'

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

'But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.

Dear Harry,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 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 Harry's shoulder and was looking perplexed.

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

He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while 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 had not 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 Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry liked despite his rather pompous manner.

'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?'

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 Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and something flowery he thought he might have smelled at the Burrow. He 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 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 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. 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 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.

'Quire 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 'shhing' 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 Maifoy 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.'

He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, thought Harry, 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 organized competitions . . . 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 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. Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making., It could not have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that lucky day. Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent him.

To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, he saw Malfoy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could.

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.

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 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.

His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of instructions. According the book, he had to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice?

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

'How are you 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.

Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing. Seven stirs counterdockwise, 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. 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 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 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 at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered.

'I s'pose you think I cheated?' he finished, aggravated by her expression.

Advanced Potion Making Half Blood Prince Pdf

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

'He only followed different instructions to ours,' said Ron, 'Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he 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 Harry's left ear and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn's dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them. 'Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?'

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

'It's nothing,' he 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're doing what it says?'

'I 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. Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.

This book is the property of the Half Blood Prince.

Chapter ten

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Half-blood Prince Advanced Potion Making Book Pdf

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