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SIX FROM DAWN TILL DUSK

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       HOLLY'S SIXTH YEAR seems to be going off with a bang — quite literally, if you think about the 1901 goblin revolt Binns had spent the first lesson discussing. And sure, so far she's only had History of Magic, but if you compare that lesson to how godawful it used to be, things seem to be getting better and better. Plus, she's made a friend, which Holly always loves. Even if he's still the slightest bit wary of her...

       The permission slip sitting in her bag — she'll forge it later, it's fine, no one knows about her mother and it's not like she's going to see her dad anytime soon — and a smile across her face, she makes her way towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. She approaches the queue standing outside of the classroom, where Draco's standing on his own, the rest of their friends having not taken the subject. Holly smiles at Harry, Ron, and Hermione as she passes them, but walks to stand next to Draco. He looks pleased by that.

       "Guess who's got to have two scrolls of research ready for next Monday!" says Holly brightly, smiling through the pain. Draco gives her an odd look. "History of Magic's split into two topics, the seventeenth and twentieth century. So we get to learn about Grindelwald and Voldemort, but also, the witch trials and the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy... The Voldemort stuff starts at the end of the year, I think, and carries on until next year..."

       Draco glances around, looking smug with himself. Bet it'll be weird for you, learning about Potter in class.

       I'm already learning about Uncle Lucius being evil, so, she replies. He turns to her, about to say something, but she smiles at him. "Although that stuff requires a permission slip, so... I'm gonna have to remember my dad's signature today."

       It takes her cousin a minute to respond, not quite sure what to say about that. "Yeah, it'll probably be best if you don't tell your mother about that..."

       "Well, she doesn't need to know," says Holly, shrugging. "I need History of Magic to join the Wizengamot properly. If she has something against me learning about the wars she killed innocent people in, then she doesn't need to know."

       "Makes sense," says Draco finally. "I'm guessing he'll let us in soon..."

       "I'll get us seats," says Holly, and before she cuts straight into the line, she glances back at her cousin. "Back row?"

       "Obviously," says Draco, rolling his eyes.

       Holly nods, cutting straight past the Ravenclaws, and in between the Hufflepuff and Harry, Ron and Hermione. She smiles at the three, making an effort to be in front of them. "I'm trying to get a desk at the back, don't mind me," says Holly to them.

       "If you want, you can sit with us," Harry suggests. To Holly's surprise, Ron and Hermione nod, agreeing completely. She's still taken aback by that.

       "Draco's already asked," says Holly. "And besides, you three have each other. The rest of our friends aren't in this class, it's unfair of me to leave my cousin on his own—"

       "Even when he's a massive prat?" says Ron.

       Holly sighs, and nods. "Even when he's a massive prat, yes."

       She doesn't even think it's the pressure of this Unbreakable Vow making her say that. Both her and Draco agreed afterwards — they didn't need to promise to look out for each other, they already do. The vow's helped with this mental link, but she doesn't think she'll ever willingly leave her cousin to fend for himself.

       The classroom door opens, and the others waiting go quiet. Snape walks out of the classroom, and surveys the group of them; the longest minute ends with him finally saying, "Inside."

       Holly's the second person to walk into the classroom, and she dumps her bag on one of the back desks. There are many benefits to being very short and very small — one of which is the fact that she's rather good at getting through crowds to the front. Hopefully it'll also mean her future husband, no matter his strength, will be able to carry her.

       But she takes a seat, and after a couple minutes, Draco sits down next to her, looking smug with himself. She supposes he somehow overheard Harry's suggestion about sitting together. Either that or he saw a baby cry, and it got him all happy or something.

       So Snape got the soul out of this room quickly, says Holly, as the others around them take their seats.

       There was soul when Umbridge had this room? says Draco.

       Holly has to stop herself from audibly snorting.

       You've got a point there, says Holly. There was still soul. Evil soul... It's a shame, I thought Snape would've loved all of those cat plates.

       Cats are his one joy in life, says Draco.

       Holly glances over at him, and they both smirk at each other, unable to conceal all signs of amusement. She turns back to the front of the classroom, noticing that Snape had been watching them. Watching Draco, more like... She doesn't like it.

      "You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe..." says Snape. "Two for those that also went to another school."

       Holly wonders why he won't just say, yo, Holly went to Durmstrang and learnt about the Dark Arts, so she's only had Moody and Umbridge. She sees a number of students glance back at her, knowing full-well that he's speaking about her. She tries not to look back at them, because she knows what they're thinking. The things people have found out since Karkaroff's death: how students were made to use the Unforgiveable Curses, that people are campaigning for a full investigation into Durmstrang Institute.

       "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 much more advanced.

       "The Dark Arts 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."

       OK, uh, I don't think my old Dark Arts professor romanticised the Dark Arts that much, says Holly to Draco.

       Snape used to be a Death Eater, says Draco. Probably still is.

       "Your defences must therefore be as flexible and incentive as the arts you seek to undo," says Snape, glancing at Holly and Draco. Holly tries her best not to frown at him. "These pictures," — he gestures towards the framed photographs on one wall of the classroom — "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse," — Holly looks away — "feel the Dementors' Kiss," — a man with eyes bulging out of his sockets, blue and purple and yellow gathering around his eyelids, the only colour left in his face, hangs on the wall — "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius."

       Snape then points at a picture of a massacre. Holly remembers when they learnt about them in their second year at Durmstrang: during their first lesson, they were made to watch the professor create one... Holly threw up once the lesson was over.

       "Has an Inferius been seen, then?" says Parvati Patil, one of the Gryffindors in the Defence class. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

       Like Snape would know, says Draco.

       Well, would you? says Holly.

       "The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past, which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again," says Snape. The use of 'Dark Lord' doesn't sit well with Holly. "Now, you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

       Hermione raises her hand. Holly sees the disgust on Snape's face, and she knows from his track record that he's going to make some remark about her being 'a know-it-all.' So Holly raises her hand.

       "Miss Lippincott?"

       "Your opponent doesn't know what spell you're going to use on them next," says Holly, remembering the three months they had spent on those spells during the start of her third year. "So you have a split-second advantage."

       "Correct," says Snape. Holly already knows that. She's already done this, just for the opposite effect — Durmstrang taught her how to create the most damage with the least words spoken. That's why she goes straight to Diffindo in dangerous situations... Straight to the spell that could, if done wrong, could kill...

       "Yes, those who progress to 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 with some lack," says Snape. He glances at Harry when he says the last part. Holly frowns. "You will now divide 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."

       "I'm so gonna crush you," says Holly to Draco as they get to their feet. She grabs onto her wand, and they walk to a corner of the classroom, keeping their distance from the other houses. "I hope you like floating, Malfoy, 'cause I'm gonna knock you off your feet."

       "What's the phrase?" says Draco, rolling his eyes. Holly tilts her head, shrugging her shoulders. She prepares herself, trying her best not to narrow her eyes as she concentrates. "All bark and no—?"

       Locomotor Mortis, she thinks.

       Draco's legs lock together and he falls over. Holly grins.

       "Bite?" she finishes, as she mutters the counter-curse.

       Draco gets back to his feet, scowling at Holly.

       "I suppose you learned this at Durmstrang," says Snape, appearing out of nowhere. The mischievous grin is wiped clean off of Holly's face, as she turns to him. She nods. "Nevertheless... Fifty points to Slytherin."

       And then he walks off. Holly turns back to Draco, noticing the amount of students that had span around to look at her inquisitively. She sees one of the Ravenclaws whisper something, and Draco clears his throat to get her attention.

       "You can curse me," says Holly, half-heartedly.

       Draco tries to jinx her for the next few moments, and Holly stand there, waiting to be knocked off her feet or something. Eventually, she frowns at him, remembering what she was taught at Durmstrang.

       Clear your mind, says Holly.

       I would but you're in it, says Draco.

       Everything but me, says Holly. I'll help you out. OK?

       She looks over at him. He nods.

       Right, pick a spell, she says. 

       Got it, he says.

       Now imagine the effects, she says. Picture them in your mind — picture whatever happening to me — side-note, you better not be thinking of Curcio or something because I will be so pissed off at you and you know I can beat your ass with that.

       I wasn't? he says.

       Good, she says. Because I would've crushed you.

       Piss off, he says.

       Clear your mind! she replies.

       I'm going to! he snaps.

       Holly stands there and waits. She crosses her arms and she glances around the room, finding Snape sneering as he watches over Ron and Harry.

       "Pathetic, Weasley," says Snape. "Here — let me show you—"

       Snape draws his wand. Holly glances around, finding that most of the class has paused momentarily to watch the encounter. He raises his wand in lightning speed, and of course, Harry panics and forgets about the class and shouts, "Protego!"

       Holly watches as Snape's knocked off-balance, hitting the corner of a desk. She sees Harry freeze for a second, but she knows why he reacted like that. Her boyfriend spends every second of every day knowing that people want him dead; of course if someone like Snape turns that quickly he's going to react like he would do if it was an actual encounter with a Death Eater, or even Voldemort. Obviously he isn't going to wait around to practice a fun new way of defense.

       "Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"

       "Yes," says Harry stiffly.

       "Yes, sir."

       "There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."

       Holly loves him so much. She can actually feel her heart swelling with joy. That's her boyfriend, being such a badass. For him to turn around with that sort of comment? In two seconds flat? How the fuck could anyone not love him—?

       And then Holly's knocked right off her feet, onto her butt, by a nonverbal Leg-Locking Jinx.

       "MALFOY YOU CUNT—!"

       "And detention for you too, Lippincott. Saturday night, my office," says Snape immediately. "Vulgar language will not be tolerated."

       Holly tries her hardest not to glare at Snape; she does, however, give Draco one of the nastiest looks she can muster. And then Draco bursts into laughter.

       "That was amazing," says Draco, a few minutes later, once the lesson's over and they're making their way out of the classroom. Holly scowls at him, but begins to realise. She doesn't think she's seen him this happy for months. She isn't falling flat on her arse every time he gets... well, weird, she doesn't really know what's going on, but still. It's making her wonder, why has he been acting off for so long?

       Holly rolls her eyes. "I'm glad my misery helps somehow."

       "I also like how you went straight to that word," says Draco, smiling brightly. Well. She knows he's smiling brightly, but his version of 'a happy smile' normally comes across as a sneer. "You just went straight for the worst one, didn't you?"

       "Go in for the kill, I guess," she says with a shrug.

       Draco goes quiet as they make their way to the courtyard to meet the rest of their friends for break. Holly tries her best not to question this, but still. Her cousin's been acting off. And she supposes part of it's to do with his father being in Azkaban, but she's got a bad feeling. She feels like there's something else, something he isn't telling her.

       "HOLLY," says Pansy as soon as she arrives, clamping her hand around Holly's and pulling her away from the others. She drags Holly to the side of the courtyard, where a gathering of first years hurry off the instant they spot the frustration on Pansy Parkinson's face. She turns to Holly, her eyes widened. "So guess who's getting a Transfiguration tutor."

       "You?" says Holly, raising an eyebrow.

       Pansy nods. She looks incredibly panicked.

       "It's not a bad thing," says Holly. "You haven't had Transfiguration yet, have you?"

       "No, but McGonagall cornered me after breakfast," says Pansy. She leans against the stone wall, running her hand through her hair. Holly crosses her arms, brows furrowing. "I don't care about needing a tutor. It's who the tutor is."

       "Who's the—?"

       "Flo fucking Montague!"

       "Oh," says Holly. 

       "Why the fuck is this happening to me? Out of the all of the people McGonagall could get to tutor me, she picks her? How does she expect me to get any better at Transfiguration when I've got to sit with that weirdo once a week in hopes something will sink in—?"

       "Uh—"

       "Because sure, I guess Montague is OK in small doses — you sort-of got on with her last year on the Quidditch team — but how does she expect me to spend an entire hour every single damned week with her?"

       Holly essentially launches herself onto Pansy, cutting her off from anymore complaining. "Shut up, she's right there," she hisses.

       "Do you think I care if she overhears?" says Pansy, scowling.

       "Overhears what?"

       Holly recognises the voice to be Flo's, and she freezes for a second, before she slowly moves away from Pansy. Flo looks at Pansy with a frown, and Holly would leave, if it wasn't for Pansy's hand gripping onto her wrist.

       "I just happen to be the slightest bit annoyed that you—"

       Holly looks over, where Harry's frowning at her. She takes this as her cue to mumble something about needing to speak to him and darting off before Pansy can grab onto her wrist again. Holly reaches Harry, Ron, and Hermione and lets out a sigh of relief. "They were about to start arguing, it's too early in the morning to hear that," she says. She glances down at the parchment in Harry's hand. "What's that?"

       "I've got a lesson with Dumbledore on Saturday night," says Harry.

       Holly snorts. "Good luck telling Snape that," she says.

       She glances around the courtyard, to find Pansy storming off with Daphne, her fingers curled into fists. On the other side, she sees her cousin slip off and into a corridor, two third years walking behind him. Holly frowns, zoning out a little as Harry, Ron, and Hermione discuss what the lesson with Dumbledore could be about.

       Where are you going? she thinks.

       I have homework to do, he says. I'll see you later.

       "I bet it'll be some spectacular jinxes and hexes that the Death Eaters don't know about," says Ron, looking excited at the idea of it.

       "Such things are illegal, Ron," says Hermione, pursing her lips. "It's much more likely that Dumbledore wants to teach Harry advanced defensive magic."

       Holly's brows furrow. "It could be about Voldemort himself... He's got to have some weaknesses," she suggests. "You can have half the knowledge and still do all the damage if you know your opponent's weaknesses."

       "Well, I suppose..." says Hermione, frowning inquisitively. She looks down at the watch on her wrist. "I've got Arithmancy now, I'll see you at lunch."

       Hermione smiles at Holly before she walks off in the direction of the Arithmancy classroom (maybe — Holly doesn't really know where that classroom is, to be honest.) Holly turns to Harry and Ron.

       "Do you both have a free now?" asks Holly.

       Ron nods. "We can probably sneak you into our common room."

       Holly's eyes light up. "I love treason."

       "Your friends won't get annoyed, will they?" says Harry, despite the fact that Ron and Holly had already started in the direction of Gryffindor tower. Holly has a mischievous smirk across her face.

       "Well, Pansy's disappeared with the others, and Draco went off of in his own," says Holly, shrugging. They walk past a group of Hufflepuffs in the year above, who look a little surprised that Holly's with Harry and Ron. She's unbothered. "And, to be fair... Who cares if they get annoyed? They know I like you lot, what do they expect?"

      Holly happily walks up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, ignoring the amount of stares she's getting. She knows it's going to be even worse, when she walks into the actual Gryffindor common room, not just walk in that direction with two people from that house.

     Ron says the password to Gryffindor tower, and Holly eyes the portrait as the frame swings open like a door. She knows she went here once, at the end of last year, but it's still bizarre to her. She's used to the dungeons, to idly saying the password to the wall and waiting for an archway to appear out of nowhere. Not someone guarding the place... She supposes Slytherins don't need a guardian to protect themselves.

       Funny coming from the girl that's being haunted, she thinks.

       Holly slips into the common room after Ron, and before Harry, climbing through the weird little entrance. She looks around. She seems to have forgotten how odd the Gryffindor common room is in contrast to her common room. Here, there's warmth, and the sun, when it does break through the clouds, shine in through the windows. And everything feels all cosy, a little like the Burrow.

       But then there's her common room. Not so much cosy, but more like, an incredibly comfortable sitting room from an old stately home. Leather sofas and tables made of ebony, silver ornaments on the mantelpieces and embroidered into anything fabric. The Slytherin common room's always dark, but in a comforting way. Sometimes it's nice — especially in the summer — to escape to a room with free sweets and low lighting, where it's a little colder, a little easier to breathe. Ironically, considering they're underwater.

      Holly follows Harry and Ron to the side of the common room, to a wooden table next to a window. She sits down closest to the window, brightly peering out. It's bizarre not looking out and seeing a mermaid. Wow.

      "Could be a good thing we took Holly," says Ron to Harry.

       Holly raises an eyebrow. "What?"

       "You knew how to do that stuff in the lesson," says Ron.

       "I learnt it at Durmstrang," says Holly, shrugging. "I mean, with the way they taught us... It didn't take long to get the hang of it." She begins to pull some parchment and a quill from her bag, figuring she needs stationary to actually complete the Defence homework. "I don't like nonverbal spells, though, so I don't use them. They remind me of Crucio, the way you have to do it."

       "How do you do nonverbal spells?" asks Harry.

       "Clear your mind, picture the spell happening, wave your wand like you normally would and think the incantation," says Holly, almost speaking with a rhythm in her voice. It had been drilled into her head so much at Durmstrang that she still remembers how they repeated the same phrase over and over. "It gets easier the more you do it."

      "I'll try later," says Ron, and Holly laughs.

✧

       IT'S SAFE TO SAY that Draco was not the happiest when his cousin returned from Gryffindor tower, brightly telling him of her adventure to the other house's headquarters. The others were intrigued, though, when she told them that they had things like sunshine — and when she explained they didn't have a table of free food, not like they do in the dungeons, her friends grinned smugly. They have a thing Gryffindor doesn't!

       "McGonagall says I've got to have Montague tutoring me," says Pansy, as the two make their way out of their common room after lunch, further down the dungeons to the Potions classroom. Holly nods along. "So kill me, basically."

       "Maybe Montague's the best at Transfiguration," says Holly.

       Pansy snorts. "Yeah, right."

       "OK, then — maybe Montague's the only one that doesn't hate you," says Holly, raising her eyebrows at Pansy, who's taken by surprise. "Well, Pans, you must know that most people don't like you—"

       "But Montague does?"

       Why's that the part she's focusing on? her cousin, who's walking behind them next to Theodore, says.

       It's a whole story, she replies. And she denies half of it, so.

       What does that mean? he says.

       It means a certain someone has a certain thing that rhymes with... 'kneelings'... for someone who's first name rhymes with 'glow' and who's surname is the opposite to 'Capulet,' says Holly. But shhhhhh she doesn't know it yet — and I swear I will kill you if you tease her for it.

       Why would I do that? says Draco.

       I don't know, she replies. I mean, I'd say maybe you'd get jealous but you're both over each by this point, let's be fucking real here.

       There's a pause.

       Well, obviously, he says.

       "Interesting," says Holly to Pansy, as they're let into the classroom. The tables have been pushed together so there's four to a table, and the two girls put their bags on the one furthest away from the Gryffindors. Draco sits opposite to Holly at the table, and Theodore fills the other empty seat.

       Holly gets out her Potions textbook, just as a draught sends cold air past her. Oddly enough the draught brings along the strange smell of clean cotton and something that reminds her of the Gryffindor common room.

       Pansy scrunches her nose up. "It smells weird in here."

       "Now then, now then, now then," says Slughorn, standing in the middle of the classroom. Holly glances to the opposite end, where Harry's sitting; she catches his eye and he grins at her. She gives him an odd look, but smiles back. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making..."

       "Sir?" says Harry, raising his hand.

       "Harry, m'boy?"

       Draco, who's face can't be seen by Slughorn, rolls his eyes at that.

       "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..."

       "Your boyfriend's organised, Hol," says Draco, under his breath.

       At least I have one, she replies, rolling her eyes.

       Draco frowns at her. We have one 'sleepover' in the summer and this happens.

       I'm not going to tell anyone, she replies. You know that.

       "Now then," says Slughorn. "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 points towards the cauldron sitting to the side of Holly's table.

       "It's Veritaserum," says Hermione, raising her hand. "A colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

       The next one, not to anyone but Slughorn's surprise, is identified by Hermione, seconds after Slughorn gestures towards it: Polyjuice Potion. Holly thinks the stuff reeks.

       Next Slughorn points towards the cauldron next to the table Harry, Ron, and Hermione are sitting at. "It's Amortentia!" says Hermione.

       "It is indeed," says Slughorn, looking impressed at Hermione's answers. Holly isn't surprised. "It seems almost foolish to ask... but I suppose you know what it does?"

       "It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" says Hermione.

       "Quite indeed! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

       "And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," says Hermione, smiling happily. "And it's supposed to smell different to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and—"

       She stops herself. Holly raises an eyebrow. Interesting.

       "May I ask your name, my dear?" says Slughorn.

       "Hermione Granger, sir."

       "Granger...?" says Slughorn, his brows furrowing as he thinks. He's probably going through the list of people he knows... Holly finds it a little strange, how Slughorn seems to know everyone famous and well-up. "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," says Hermione. "I'm muggle-born."

       Draco leans towards Theodore and whispers something. Both of them snicker at whatever joke her cousin's made at Hermione's expense, and she frowns at him.

       "'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?"

       Pansy leans in closer to Holly. "Isn't it a little dodgy Potter says that about Granger, not you?"

       "Well, it's true?" says Holly, confused. "It's not like he's going to add, oh, yeah, and my girlfriend knows how to torture people."

       "Hm," says Pansy, giving Harry a nasty look.

       "There's really no need," says Holly. "Hermione is the smartest one here."

      "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," says Slughorn, pausing to nod at Draco and Theodore, who don't seem to believe what him. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love..."

       "Maybe Potter used that on Holly," says Draco.

       Holly doesn't even reply. She doesn't really care anymore.

       "And now, it is time for us to start work," says Slughorn. One of the boys from the D.A. mention the potion he hasn't talked about, and a wide grin spreads across Slughorn's face. "Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

       "It's liquid luck!" says Hermione. "It makes you lucky!"

       Draco sits up straight, finally listening fully. Holly frowns: why would Draco be interested in extra luck?

       "Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," says Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed... at least until the effects wear off." He pauses for suspense. "And that, is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.

       "One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis. Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn til 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, how are you to win my 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 at- tempted 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!"

       Holly pulls her cauldron closer to her, waving her wand and muttering a spell that unties the ribbon from her wrist, wrapping around her ice-white hair and pulling it into a ponytail. She opens her textbook to page ten, and glances across at Draco, who's feverishly opening his textbook and getting himself ready to produce the potion first. Weird.

      Susannah appears as the rest of the class descend into chatter; Holly breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the ghost, floating happily in the air. "Whatcha doing?"

       "What do you think?" says Holly, raising an eyebrow. She keeps her voice down, considering she doesn't want Theodore to think she's a complete freak. "Any chance you know how to make this potion?"

       "No," says Susannah. "But I know how to poison drinks."

       "Wait, what?"

       "That was gonna be Raymond's stage two, but then they arrested him," says Susannah, and she lets out a defeated sigh. Holly frowns, remembering what she had read about the cult Susannah had been a part of, all those years ago: how the leader wanted to become president, planned to cause panic across the country and rise to power like a guardian angel.

       "Unease and unclarity create the perfect breeding ground for men like him," she remembers a documentary saying about Raymond. But she happened to be watching the documentary with her dad the week after he found out about Durmstrang's nightmarish behaviour, and he changed the channel the second it started to talk about evil men — he must've been reminded of Karkaroff.

       But Holly found it on TV a couple days later, when her dad was out at work and she was home alone. She remembers it got to that part, and it continued: "You see it everywhere... Most of us can name at least one dictator that rose to power because there was some sort of distrust, some sort of unhappiness... They never last, of course, but that doesn't stop them from, at some point, having an ultimate position of power in their country, their territory."

       Holly and Gus used to watch true crime stuff all the time. Especially when she got a little older, and it was less of a somewhat-PG version of Jack the Ripper, and more about things like the Black Dahlia, or Marilyn Monroe's death. As she got older, they'd watch documentaries about suspicious circumstances, about cults led by power-hungry individuals... And sometimes they'd watch historical ones, the sort that spoke about the muggle versions of Grindelwald and Voldemort.

       And she's glad she's watched those sort of things growing up, because it gives her hope. The historical ones especially — because, for the most part, those sort of people always get overthrown. They never win, and in the climate she lives in now, that's so important for her to keep in mind. Fascism dies quicker than it spreads, that's what her grandad said. And it's so true.

       "Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" says Draco, as Slughorn walks over to their table. Holly gives Draco an odd look. His grandfather died years ago? She doesn't think her cousin can be any more obvious, trying to suck up to Slughorn to get that Felix Felicis.

      "Yes. I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age..." says Slughorn. He steps away from Draco, walking around the table. His gaze falls onto Holly. "You must be Holliday Lippincott, the British Youth Representative!"

       "I am," says Holly, smiling warmly.

       "I have quite a few friends in the Wizengamot — a Mr Hallward, have you met him before?" says Slughorn. Holly nods, but really, she has no fucking idea what he's on about. "Of course, of course... Your potion is coming along quite well, I'm impressed... You must have some of the talent your step-father Atticus had!"

       Now Holly's interested. "You knew him?"

       "Top of his class," says Slughorn, nodding to himself. Holly, in her peripheral vision, can see Draco seething. "Of course, a shame what happened to him, later in life..."

       "Yeah," says Holly, remembering that he's meant to be dead. If anyone believes that. Harry, in the Quibbler interview, said he was alive, and she's sure word's gotten out that Atticus was there during the Department of Mysteries. But still, she's supposed to have no idea what he's like, so she nods along.

       "I shall leave you to it, my dear," says Slughorn.

       Holly guesses the mention of Death Eaters made him less interested. Which she finds to be a little annoying... All was going well, she was being complimented by her own hard work, and then, magically, it's mentioned that her step-father's a Death Eater. Brilliant.

       Not that she cares about that Slug Club. She thinks it's a little strange, to be honest, the way Slughorn seems to collect the brightest students, the ones that get the highest positions later on in life. It makes her nervous... But it might just be because she's reminded of the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He still gives her the creeps.

       She returns to her potion, her eyes narrowing at the substance inside the cauldron. The textbook says it's meant to be navy but it's not fucking navy. It's more of a disgusting tar colour, which means it's going to be a nightmare for her to turn this around and turn the stupid fucking thing into lilac.

       "This is fucking stupid," says Holly under her breath, and Pansy grumbles, nodding in agreement. "You can buy fucking potions for a fucking reason oh my fucking—"

       "And time's up!" says Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

       Holly glares at her cauldron.

       Slughorn walks around the classroom again, looking at everyone's potions. He passes Holly and chortles, "It's a good thing you want to be in the Wizengamot, heh?" And, as soon as his head is turned, Holly mimics him, scowling at the back of his head.

      "The clear winner!" says Slughorn, once he sees Harry's potion. "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!"

       Holly feels like crap, as she packs her things away. Because here's the thing: she loves her boyfriend, so very much, but she knows for a fact that he isn't that good at Potions? She doesn't get it. Last year, the three at the top of the Potions class was Hermione, Draco, and herself. How did Harry make that potion successfully but none of them didn't? How did he beat Hermione?

       Maybe she's just getting worse at everything. That makes sense, she guesses, even if she hates the idea. She feels like she's getting worse at everything... She gets a detention (a fucking detention, something she was terrified of) on her first day of school. She can't even make a potion without messing up completely.

       Everything's just going downhill for her... Hopefully, she won't muck up the entire Quidditch team, because her track record suggests she will.

—✧—✧—✧—✧—

yeah i know this was meant to be about the slytherin quidditch team but if i skipped the first lessons i wouldn't be able to add in the half-blood prince plot-line, so. whoops.

i hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you thought!