Advanced Potioneering

Completely disregarding the school's rules, which she was meant to enforce as a prefect, Oleandra sprinted down the stairs, taking four steps at a time as she descended into the dungeons. She nearly bowled over a lost second-year student as she rounded the last corner before the Potions classroom, arriving just as the first bell rang.

Oleandra quickly joined the other students lining up in single file and entered the classroom, noting a few unfamiliar faces. Each advanced class had lost a significant number of students, filtered out by the O.W.L.s— and with fewer students remaining, the school couldn't justify holding separate classes for students of different House, so just as it had been for Care of Magical Creatures, N.E.W.T. level Potions had had its previous years' classes merged together.

Leaving aside the lone Hufflepuff student and the four Ravenclaws who had managed to make it this far, Oleandra's attention was quickly drawn to the bubbling cauldrons resting on pedestals around the classroom. The one nearest to the Gryffindor table smelled especially appealing to her— it emitted a scent reminiscent of apple tree blossoms.

And now that she was thinking about it, it was the very same odour that the locked room in the Department of Mysteries had been emanating…

"How was Care of Magical Creatures?" asked Tracey, sniffing at Oleandra's clothes. "You don't smell like manure, so I'm guessing it went well?"

"Now then, now then, now then," said Professor Slughorn, struggling to lift his bulk from his chair. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…"

Harry raised his hand.

Apparently, he and Ron hadn't purchased any Potioneering equipment, seeing as they had failed to meet Professor Snape's O.W.L. requirements for the class. Luckily for them, Professor Slughorn's requirements were much laxer than his predecessor's, so they had been allowed to register for the class…

"Apparently, we'll be breeding magical hybrids this year," Oleandra whispered back to Tracey, while Professor Slughorn was busy fetching spare potion gear for the two Gryffindor boys. "So that'll be fun."

"Blast-Ended Skrewts all over again, eh?" said Tracey sympathetically. "Are you sure you don't want to transfer to Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Oleandra fell silent as Professor Slughorn shuffled over to the Gryffindor table behind them to deliver the potion kits and grimoires to Harry and Ron.

"Now, then," Professor Slughorn wheezed, the exertion of moving his mass back to the front of the class having completely drained him, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, as a frame of reference. After completing your N.E.W.T.s, you should be able to compound this sort of thing. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

Daphne's hand shot in the air before Professor Slughorn could even finish pointing at the cauldron next to her. Hermione also raised her hand, but she was slower by a heartbeat, as she was farther away from the cauldron.

"Veritaserum," said Daphne in a neutral tone. "Truth serum."

"Very good, very good!" said Professor Slughorn happily, before turning his gaze to the cauldron sitting next to the Ravenclaw table. "Now, what about this one—"

This time, Hermione made certain to raise her hand before Professor Slughorn could even finish formulating his question.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir!" said Hermione.

"Of course you'd know what that looks like," Oleandra grumbled under her breath.

In her second year at Hogwarts, Hermione had brewed the potion to steal the Greengrass twins' appearance to out Malfoy as the Heir of Slytherin. Daphne had figured the subterfuge fairly easily, seeing as the Gryffindor and Slytherin Trios had both competed for Moste Potente Potions, which was the only book in the library in which the Polyjuice Potion's recipe was recorded.

"Excellent, excellent," said Professor Slughorn. "Now, this one… does anyone else want to answer the question?"

Hermione and Daphne had raised their hands at the same time, leaving Professor Slughorn at a loss— seeing as she knew the answer, Oleandra tentatively raised her hand.

"It's Amortentia," said Oleandra. "The most powerful Love Potion in the world— the Unspeakables in the Department of Secrets brew it to study love."

"Well done, indeed!" said Professor Slughorn, beaming at Oleandra. "I won't ask how you came by that information, but I suppose you recognised it by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"By its scent, actually," Oleandra admitted. "It smells like apple blossoms to me."

Professor Slughorn seemed satisfied with Oleandra's answer.

"Well then, shall we say five points per answer?" said Professor Slughorn. "So, five points to Gryffindor, and ten points to Slytherin— and with that, it is time for us to start work."

"What about that one, sir?" asked the lone Hufflepuff boy, pointing at the small black cauldron on Professor Slughorn's desk. "You haven't told us yet what's in that one."

The golden liquid inside the cauldron almost seemed alive— it jumped and arced into the air like a solar flare would, without spilling any of itself onto Professor Slughorn's desk.

"Oho," said Professor Slughorn, an enigmatic smile drawing itself on his lips. "Now that is a curious little potion indeed, ladies and gentlemen: Felix Felicis, or Liquid luck!"

To avoid wasting any more time with Daphne's and Hermione's rivalry, Professor Slughorn had directly given the class the correct answer.

"Luck isn't real," said Oleandra obstinately— despite being the unluckiest girl in the room. "Fate is set in stone, and very few things can cause it to change— and I highly doubt a potion is one of them."

The entire class stared at Oleandra.

"Ohoho," guffawed Professor Slughorn, unperturbed by Oleandra's words. "Now those are the exact words I'd expect from a Seeress, I say!"

Professor Slughorn sighed wistfully and gazed into empty space, as if he were remembering some fond memories.

"Well, whether luck exists or not, one thing is certain: once one has imbibed a spoonful of Felix Felicis, all of their endeavours will tend to succeed… at least until its effects wear off," he said at last. "It would take too long to explain its mechanics and how it induces limited precognition in its user, but suffice to say that it works— and that I will be offering a small vial of this potion at the end of this lesson as a prize..."