"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."

Alex let out a sigh, noticing the only available place to sit was next to Daphne Greengrass.

He sat down and ignored her, immediately focusing on Snape.

"Your defences," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the 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 towards 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 the ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati Patil in a high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"Well?" whispered Daphne to Alex. "Is he using them?"

He glanced at her. "Yes." He replied nonchalantly, ignoring her thoughtful look, and focusing back on Snape.

"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 towards his desk, and again, the class watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

"..you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione Granger'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," replied Granger, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6," said Snape dismissively. "but correct in essentials. 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 which some," his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry Potter, "lack."

Alex's brows creased in thought.

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "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."

A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Alex immediately managed to repel Daphne's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word, earning points to Slytherin.

Snape swept between them as they practised, looking just as much like an overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry Potter and Ron Weasley 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 non-verbal 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 round and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practising non-verbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly.

"Yes, sir." corrected Snape.

"There's no need to call me "sir", Professor." The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped.

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

Alex rolled his eyes and packed his bag, walking out of the classroom as the bell rang

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"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapours. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making—"

"Sir?" asked Harry, raising his hand.

"Harry, m'boy?"

"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." 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, "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.

Alex raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Granger's well-practised hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that 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—?"

Daphne Greengrass raised her hand. "It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here.. how about you, Mister Riddle?"

Alex looked at the potion. "It's Amortentia."

"It is indeed. It 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 potion in the world and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us."

"Can you tell us what you smell?" asked Slughorn enthusiastically.

Alex nodded, then frowned. "I apologize, but I cannot smell anything, sir." He said truthfully.

"The same answer your father gave years ago," muttered the professor in thought.

"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," continued Slughorn in a louder voice. "It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room— oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Draco and Theo Nott, both of whom were smirking sceptically. "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 colour of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"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.

"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 endeavours tend to succeed... at least until the effects wear off."

"And that," continued Slughorn, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was a 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 organised 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," continued Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "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 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 towards them, and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke.

"I need that liquid luck," whispered Draco to a working Alex.

"And what shall I do about it?" asked Alex, looking unbothered.

"Help me, Alex."

"I can't, unfortunately."

"You can. You know you can."

"That would be going against the Dark lord's orders," Alex pointed out in a whisper, making sure nobody heard them. "You're a death eater, Draco. I'm not supposed to be helping you with your tasks."

"How did you know—?"

"You need the liquid luck to help you with your task, do you not?"

"Yes."

"I can't help you," repeated the boy.

Draco's shoulders slumped, but he nodded understandingly and went back to his cauldron.

About 30 minutes later, Alex stirred counter clockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise.

The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.

"How are you doing that?" asked Daphne in awe; her potion was still resolutely purple.

Alex couldn't understand the sudden attention he was getting from her, but didn't bother thinking about it.

"Add a clockwise stir."

Daphne frowned in thought, looking back at her own potion.

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

Slughorn moved slowly between the tables, peering into cauldrons.

He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir, or a sniff.

When he reached Alex's table, Slughorn seemed highly impressed, but didn't say anything and walked over to Harry Potter's table.

When he saw Harry's potion, 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!"

"Sir, Riddle's potion is much better than his," Daphne pointed out, catching everyone's attention.

A murmur spread and it seemed like most students agreed, but they didn't dare say it.

Slughorn ignored them.

Harry Potter slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket.

"I don't need you standing up for me, Greengrass."

"I know," Daphne rolled her eyes at Alex's words. "But that was unfair."

Alex scoffed.