Note:

Elizabeth started as a side character, but now she's the queen, and the fanfic went from Remus-centric to full-on Marauders chaos. Lily and James? Obsessed. Hits and the 2 kudos? Cherished. Me? Dramatic. Wishing you all the best chaos this summer!

...

Phil's POV:

»Ah,« murmured Professor Slughorn thoughtfully, his eyes scrutinising me from every conceivable angle. He circled around me, trying to match my presence with a name, though he clearly knew who I was.
His intense gaze unsettled me, but I stood my ground, allowing his examination. The Potions Professor had only just realised he had a new student in his sixth-year class, as evidenced by the deep furrow etched across his brow.

A character unto himself, indeed...

In the Potions classroom, I bit my lower lip and clutched my textbooks tightly against my chest, as if they could shield me from unseen dangers. Standing there, I awaited the moment I could finally sit down like the others. Slughorn's oddities in teaching were of little concern to me; I had long since accepted my fate. One simply did not ask questions.
»Miss Aquila,« he intoned slowly, his lips pressed tightly as he read my name off some list. The older man locked eyes with me, raising his voice again, »Huh, it seems I completely forgot that you are in my class this year, my apologies. I did indeed grade your OWLs, Miss Aquila.« He scratched his chin. It was preferable to be forgotten by someone like Slughorn than to be tormented because of my family name.
Slughorn was just Slughorn, and I had barely seen him over the last year and a half, as Lily had mostly taught me Potions.

Better to be forgotten than remembered as a monster.

I muttered to myself and, following Slughorn's gesture, joined Remus. Fate had it that the only empty seat was next to him. Next to Lily sat Marlene McKinnon, another friend of hers. Thus, I had to sit with the Marauders, as Black had hinted in Diagon Alley.
Each table in the Potions classroom had a few stools, and Slughorn maintained a strict seating arrangement. He did not want everyone changing seats every time. Probably because of his issues with remembering faces.
Silently, I took my place on one of the wooden stools and avoided the Marauders' glances. Opening my Potions textbook, I pretended to decode a hidden message within.
Unfortunately, Sirius Black had something to say, »I told you, Phil, there's still a spot with us. Great, isn't it?«
»Fantastic...« I muttered, just as Slughorn was closing the door behind him.
»Evans doesn't think it's so great,« laughed James Potter, glancing at another table where green eyes sparkled at us. Remus also maintained his gaze towards Lily, but I could not recall them speaking recently.
»Why would she be thrilled?« I looked at the four boys. Unlike the girls, I had less trouble with them. I treated them normally as long as they treated me the same, perhaps due to our shared history. Still, they were annoying.
»What are you hinting at, dear Phil?« Black asked, sitting opposite me.
»That Lily can't stand you guys.«
Sirius inhaled with feigned shock. »With your serious tone, I almost forgot that I didn't already know that,« he joked. I watched him silently.
»We're not that bad,« claimed Potter, though his voice was unconvincing.
»Doesn't matter now, Slughorn is starting the class,« replied Remus, and indeed, Slughorn was already looking annoyed at our table.

I completely agree that the boys talk too much, Professor.

The lesson began, and Slughorn raised his voice, »Welcome back to Hogwarts,« he said, »The OWLs are over, and hopefully, you're all rested from the summer. I certainly was, often visiting my favourite café, as you might tell, ha, ha, ha!« His laughter was thunderous, and the others laughed with him out of politeness. I, on the other hand, was shocked, having not realised Slughorn could be so terrible.
My expression caught the Marauders' amused looks. Remus whispered beside me, »You might want to control your face.« He sounded cheerful, and I took his advice, listening to Slughorn with a strained expression. He announced that we would familiarise ourselves with the Draught of Living Death and, as it was a double period, we would even start brewing it.
Opening my book to the correct page, I began to read, choosing to ignore Slughorn's droning:

'The Draught of Living Death' is an extremely powerful sleeping potion. Anyone who drinks it sleeps like the dead and cannot be awoken by any means.

»Now, who among you can name the necessary ingredients?« After posing his question, the stout professor strode across the creaking wooden floorboards, hands clasped behind his back, stopping dramatically, »Mister Snape, speak up, my boy.«
My eyes fixed on the boy with the longer, dark hair. Snape lowered his hand slowly, his voice resonating in my ears, »To brew the Draught of Living Death, one first finely chops asphodel root, then brews a decoction of wormwood. Also required is the juice of a sopophorous bean, and lastly, valerian roots must be added.«
Slughorn grunted in approval. »Excellent, boy, ten points for Slytherin!« Snape received approving glances from others adorned with green and silver ties.
»Ten points for reading from the book and because he's his favourite, fantastic...« Sirius Black joked sarcastically. Potter chuckled quietly in his seat. I glanced left as Sirius continued to mock Snape and wanted to confirm Black's assertion. My gaze returned to the book, and indeed, there it was, Snape's answer listed word for word. But why Sirius Black was now fussing about it, I had no idea. Probably something to do with Snape, whom I could not stand anyway because of Lily.
The Marauders' teasing did not interest me, so I continued reading in my Potions book:

To properly prepare the potion, asphodel root must be boiled in the wormwood decoction. Initially, a bluish vapour rises from the brew. Subsequently, the potion takes on a blackberry-like hue in its middle stage. After adding the sopophorous bean juice and valerian roots, it lightens to a lilac colour. By stirring gently counterclockwise, the colour of the potion changes from dark violet through lilac to pink, until it finally becomes as clear as water.

After finishing my reading, I looked up again at the professor, who was just uttering words that elicited a collective groan from the students. That word, now, meant paired teamwork. As fate would have it, the professor insisted on assigning the groups himself, and except for James Potter, no one seemed pleased with their assigned partner.
James and Lily had been put in a group together. That the redhead was less than thrilled was obvious to everyone. I even caught a helpless glance from her, but unfortunately, no one could change her fate.
»Oh, hello!« a black-haired girl with a green tie around her neck called out. My partner for today was Elizabeth Lestrange, a name I knew only because Slughorn had called out both our names.
I could have complained about this pairing, as I had not made any pleasant acquaintances among the Slytherins, but what was there to do?

Nothing.
So, I accepted my fate.

Although I had seen Lestrange a few times before, one early memory stood out: she had once driven off Mulciber Jr. for me. I no longer dwelled on the past, choosing instead to focus on my new partner. The girl settled energetically onto the stool beside me and extended her hand. I eyed it skeptically, raising an eyebrow.
She caught on quickly, clearing her throat and speaking in a conspiratorial tone, »My name is Elizabeth, and I'm your partner today, super, right? I mean, better than Black. Ha, ha!« After she finished, she laughed madly, grabbing my right hand and shaking it vigorously. Her gaze shifted to my book, as if just realising what we needed to do. »This bumbling wizard! We always have to brew potions that we should be brewing with him, you know? At least practicing.«
I did not know, but that did not deter Lestrange from continuing, »We've had to brew many potions completely on our own, no help, no tips. Hmm, bad memories, though there were some good explosions.« She glanced at Black, who just walked by our table. Speaking louder, possibly to provoke, she added, »Black really has nothing in his head. Wait, what's your first name again? I mean, how could one forget your last name, ha, ha!«
»Phil...«
»Ah yes. You, on the other hand, are a pleasant change of wind, Phil, even if you were quite off your rocker when we first met.« Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and haughtily tilted her chin at Sirius Black.
Black had stopped next to our table, glaring at the Slytherin. The tension was palpable.
My eyes shifted between them. It was intriguing, as I had yet to experience a normal class session. Clearly, Lestrange and Black harboured mutual disdain. I was beginning to understand why.

This could turn out to be amusing...

»If you find me so unbearable, then I don't understand why you talk about me, Lestrange. Do you often think of me?« Black teased, eyeing the Slytherin.
She crossed her arms over her chest, exhaling through her nose in boredom. »Pfft, please, Black, why would I think about you? That would just kill my brain cells. Or wait, maybe I have thought about you, but those cells have already perished at the thought. Not even brain cells can endure you - a bad sign.« A small smirk on Elizabeth's lips showed she was enjoying provoking Black.
»But you have thought about me,« Black countered, raising his eyebrows.
»As I said, I might not remember, but now I have indeed thought about you; I must tell Phil the truth about you idiots. Poor thing, I already feel sorry for her having to sit next to you and your friends. My condolences,« Elizabeth said, turning to me with a sympathetic look.
I was still confused. This confusion did not improve. Why Elizabeth Lestrange was speaking to me as if we were good friends and she was giving me sound advice, I did not know. I had only ever had negative experiences with Slytherins.
»Says the right one,« Black scoffed, »You're a dreadful contemporary, Lestrange. Just so you know, Phil,« he said, turning his gaze towards me.
»I think I'd like to make up my own mind, thanks to both of you,« I interjected, and they looked at me but could say no more as another voice spoke up, »Black, Lestrange, Aquila, why aren't you working?«
It was Slughorn. We ceased talking.
»We'll continue this conversation another time, Lestrange, and don't think about me too often, especially at night when you might feel lonely in the dungeons.«
After these thinly veiled insinuations, Black moved away, but Elizabeth Lestrange remarked, »I'd rather bang my head against the wall until I die, ugh!« Then she showed Black her black-lacquered middle finger and settled back beside me. »And where were we?« her tone now calm. I pointed bewilderedly at my Potions book.
Together, we then got to work and brewed the Draught of Living Death. What to make of Elizabeth Lestrange, I did not know. Nor did I know at that time that in my sixth year, I would be dealing a lot with her.