Harry Potter, boy who lived, very tired adolescent and occasional national hero, sat down slumped at his chair for his first potions class this year. He'd been dreading potential classes with Snape all summer long, in the exceedingly rare chance that Snape might admit anything less than an O this year, yet slughorn's classes appeared to be a very different can of worms.
Slughorn, in all his bald mustachioed glory appeared late, and pontificated a great deal on potions, perhaps thinking of himself as a "fun uncle" type of teacher, while most students and Malfoy -- that git!-- listened with unmasked boredom. Only Hermione was scribbling down as frantically as ever, indifferent to Ron's snarky comments. This quickly changed when the man took a little golden flask from his breastpocket. Felix Felicis sold for absurd prices on the market these days, and this was anybody's game. Harry and Ron cursed themselves for not having bought their potions manuals and quickly made way to the ingredients closet, where they took the dusty secondhand books there, Ron picking the most used one, Harry avoiding the one that smelled like barf.
Quickly returning to his table and opening the book, Harry noticed a small booklet falling from the copy of Advanced potions making. It had an etching on his front page that eerily reminded Harry of the screaming book he'd let some years ago in the forbidden section of the library. Something like a face, perpetually shifting, he could make out uncle Vernon's mustache sitting on a face not unlike umbridge at some point, Hermione's fiery hair on Neville, and Malfoy —that git!— with a ridiculous goatee and pigtails.
Intrigued and never one to turn down a mystery, Harry skimmed the first page of the booklet. He wouldn't be the one who'd be awarded the damn elixir anyways, it'd probably be Hermione or that bookish ravenclaw who was measuring banshee scales right now.
The page was very short and to the point. Three spells were written on it, but for some reason the next page was virtually unreadable to Harry. It looked like the waters of the lake outside, murky and probably housing a giant squid.
What he could read however, was very promising. The first spell described an advanced polyjuice potion made of..... Mud? That was literally it, mud and something from said person's body. The second spell, a non-verbal spell, claimed to be an advanced form of legilimancy that could copy memories, mannerisms and skills.
From everything Harry knew about magic, these spells felt very fishy indeed, or at least inconsistent with what he had understood of it. The third spell was partly obscured as it continued on the third page, but it claimed to be able to stock the thoughts obtained by the second spell in an object, as the second spell could only last for less than an hour before all memories dissipated.
Now Harry was genuinely curious about this, as the discretion required to gather a lot of mud and enchant it was missing, he settled on trying out the second spell. His chances of obtaining the Felix felicis would certainly be high if HE had the mind of the teacher, wouldn't they?
Harry took aim and used the spell, personae levare on slughorn, while the latter had his back turned, contemplating Nott's potion and complimenting its ultramarine color.
Informations instantly flooded his mind, but he shut them out as he focused on making the best draught of the living dead possible.
Weirdly enough, Ron seemed to share his enthusiasm, cutting his ellebore root with an astuteness ordinarily saved for chess and quidditch.
——————————————
One hour later, all of their potions were finished. Glowing ominously, Harry and Ron's potions looked just like the illustration in their books, while Hermione's color was slightly off, with some blueish and pinkish shades in the deep lavender potion. Approaching their tables after having examined the other students' potions, Slughorn's pudgy face lit up like a Christmas tree, if said Christmas tree was on fire.
"Magnificent" he said, letting his two hands rest upon Ron and Harry's shoulders "Two full-fledged Draughts of the living dead! — I'm not surprised of course Harry, your mom was a prodigy like I've had very few — and Mr Weasley, that rich, mellowy color! Your family will no doubt be very proud of you"
Ron's entire face and ears became very red as he mumbled something about "only following the instructions sir" Harry felt some schadenfreude at seeing Malfoy —that git!— seething intently from his seat, with an orange potion by him, as well as Hermione's shocked face at not being the one congratulated by the teacher, as slughorn only spared a "Very commendable, keep up the good work!" In an enthusiastic but dispassionate voice.
Slughorn waited until class was over, after a short lecture (that Harry knew somewhat, but was already forgetting) to finally settle who, of Harry and Ron, had the best draught of the living dead.
"My boys, it has been a long, long time since I've been as impressed with two students. Both of these potions could be sold tomorrow on diagon alley if you so wished." Ron was blushing even harder now, out-redding his own hair. "However" Continued slughorn "One of these potions truly is exceptional, as I must confess I could have mistaken it for one of mine! The exact dosage of ingredients was as perfect as can be by most serious academic standards. As such, I'm very proud to award you the prize Harry!"
It was now Harry's turn to flush and mumble, as Slughorn handed him the flask. However, instead of the competitive or even enthusiastic look he'd expected Ron to exhibit, he just seem relieved and patted him on the back. "Good job late! I'm happy for you!". Harry was then congratulated a bit more by slughorn, with a great deal of comments about his mother's eyes and gift with potions, and even his grandfather fleamont, who seemed to have been a well-known potionner, as Ron waited awkwardly by his side, not knowing if he should make a snarky comment, wait for congratulations himself or join the rest of his students in waiting outside of the classroom, listening at the door.
"As for you, young Mr Weasley, I've been very pleasantly surprised! You have the makings of a wonderful potionner. It should of course be unfair for me not to give you a prize of sorts! What do you think of selling me your potion? I'm sure I'll have no trouble selling it for 50 galleons in diagon alley"
Ron looked as if he was about to faint, but he nodded with some tears in his eyes as slughorn made way for his wallet. Harry didn't think of mentioning to Ron a last stray slughorn thought in his mind, that his potion was actually worth a good 140 galleons, nor that slughorn didn't mention what he'd do with Harry's potion. But that was Slytherin for you.
Getting out of the classroom, the two golden trio members were confronted by a dumbfounded Hermione. Instead of the gloating he'd expected, Ron mumbled "bathroom" before running up the stairs and escaping from sight. Hermione looked at Harry, very pale, and said something about the library, escaping from sight as well.
Harry immediately went into a nearby empty classroom and reread the small booklet. All pages were the same, indecipherable, with only one slight exception: he could now read the third spell in full. The rest of the explanation stipulated that just keeping physical contact with the object could suffice to get the entire thoughts, mannerisms, skills and speech patterns of the concerned person. Harry thought about all the possibilities it meant. Instant good grades, understanding girls, showing Malfoy who's boss. Showing Voldemort who's boss! Sadly, the spell seemed to indicate that you could only get one person's memories at a time in addition to your own. He sat down on a chair and thought.
What should he do?
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