Harry Potter : Chapter 43: Turning Point II

Another failure. My eyes lingered on both the werewolves for a few seconds, my heart thundering with no control in my chest even if I should have been used to this shit by now.

Before Paul managed to kill himself against the cage tailor-made for werewolves, I apparated away, leaving behind the hidden cellar and the forest of Dean.

...

I appeared with a sharp crack into a familiar clearing, and I didn't hesitate in casting once more the veritable hail of concealing charms over myself, my long legs already taking me through the Forbidden Forest at a pace that no ordinary human could follow for more than a couple of minutes.

I followed the beginnings of a trail that my frequent excursions were starting to shape into the otherwise untravelled ground.

There was a visible effect in both cases this time. I reasoned even while I kept my senses peeled to catch anything untoward happening in my immediate surroundings. Marie had looked more restrained, and there had been a noticeable hitch in the final stages of Paul's transformation.

Of course, then the werewolf managed to spot me despite the concealing spells I had been using for years now, and that was another problem. I need ingredients tailored for this potion in particular, but unless the leaves of the Shadow Tree prove themselves miraculous, they won't be enough for a whole cure.

A Ritual? Dangerous stuff that, and I have no idea how to make Marie execute one, that isn't something I can prepare in their stead.

I walked over a root that reached my shin and ducked under a branch that I could have sworn wasn't there a moment before, but it didn't change my pace.

In my experience, the beings in the forest left you alone as long as you did the same, and the full moon generally made the regular inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest more weary than aggressive. Marie looked calmer, while Paul visibly struggled with the change.

Now that I managed to obtain two effects, I simply needed to isolate the reason for the change. Hoping that their sex doesn't influence the effect of the potion, but that shouldn't be an issue. 

The potion I had given to Paul apparently lacked enough power to oppose the change, while the one drank by Marie seemed to lack... direction?

I had carefully avoided the use of dragon's blood in either of the brews, knowing that while it conferred a great deal of power, it was also a substance difficult to direct towards an end result that I needed to be peaceful.

Dragons, beyond any other being, were synonyms with Power, a power that wasn't meant to be restrained. 

Maybe I should research them some more... but without direct experience, I cannot truly divine what I'd be able to do with their parts as ingredients.

"I need power."

I abandoned my budding trail in order to pick up a couple of purple-black flowers that seemed to shine silver in the corner of my eye, only to walk crouched for a couple of meters as I ripped some brownish-red moss from a rock, each ingredient finding a place in the many pockets or vials present on my person. If only I could use the Lightning Storm for the Animagus process to...

I stilled as I returned on the beaten path: "But I can, can't I? If I managed to capture dawn break, what's to say I cannot capture a cyclone? Order and Power, in a single vial. Or I need to figure out cross-breeding and lead a project to give me the ingredients with the exact properties I need, but that'd take years."

Maybe this is the solution... at least for Paul. I returned to my musings while I kept picking any ingredient that didn't require me to face off with something sentient and that kept me in sight of the trail I was making with my frequent escapades in the Forbidden Forest. 

But what direction can I give to a werewolf in order to keep Marie from rampaging?

Once I was done ranting and raving and rambling in my head, I stole a glance at the full moon, and realized that it was low enough that my absence had likely gone unnoticed.

Only as I started to cross from the edge of the Forbidden Forest onto the Hogwarts' Grounds, did I remember that tonight I'd have to make my first appearance at the Slug Club.

A disgusted groan tore itself from me while I moved towards the castle, my pace quickening ever so slightly. I disliked the idea of the brownnosing involved, but Slughorn had been far more than merely useful, and snubbing him would bite me in the ass, especially since I was sure that he knew of my 'Easy Come, Easy Go' attitude in regards to Hogwarts.

At least I could get drunk, and at the moment, I frankly wanted nothing more. Shower first, I'll think about the rest later.

So I snuck into the castle with the expertise born of endless repetition and made my way to the Slytherin Common Room, dismissing without a second thought the whispers that followed me and my 'unnaturalness' in order to take a quick shower, and change into something more appropriate for Sluggy's party.

And realizing that I'd likely see little use for the werewolf hair I had picked up from Paul, at least given the direction I just decided to take the development of my brews in, I tucked the vial into an inner pocket of my robes, quickly making my way to the 'Slug Club'.

Slughorn's party was as classy as a group of gifted teenage students mingling with a professor and his guests could be. Thank the gods I'm terribly late.

The large room had been organized with tables arrayed against the walls holding delicacies of any sort, while less than extraordinary students still hoping to score a few brownie points were acting as waiters here and there. Pouring wine and whatnot.

Soft chamber music ran delicately in the underground, chorusing nicely with the low murmuring of the lit fireplaces.

Ignoring the few visibly tipsy teenagers that were slowly making their way out of the Slug Club, I spotted a group counting no less than 10 heads entertaining conversation around, Slughorn himself, who was giving me his back for the time being.

Of course, I spotted Tom's charming smile from across the room, and from the set of the other students' shoulders, I could tell they were hanging from his lips. He's in full-charming mode then.

"You're late!" Minerva ambushed me just as I made a note of steering clear of Riddle, as I wasn't about to ruin his little games as long as he did no harm, but I also was unwilling to bear pointless chatter.

As she often favored, the witch wore an emerald green velvety ensemble, that however managed to nod to her Gryffindor nature with an elegant measure of golden thread poking through here and there.

I didn't bother containing my grin, finally starting to feel the tension of the evening recede: "A wizard is neither early nor late, he..."

"Spare me." she interrupted me, knowing already one of my favorite quotes yet to become deservingly famous.

"You missed dinner, and most of the party" the witch sniffed disdainfully at me.

"many people have already gone away, I'll have you know."

"Anyone interesting?" I replied easily while I started to casually eat and drink, distractedly appreciating the quality of the food. Hunger is still the best seasoning.

"Not particularly, no." the Gryffindor witch didn't bother with hiding her exasperated sigh, "And... you haven't been in the Rùnda recently, have you?"

I enlarged one of the available delicate-looking chalices and unashamedly poured more than half of a bottle of white wine into it, sipping it with a satisfied sigh, its chill helping washing away the heated moments in which I had forced myself to remain still less than three meters from two werewolves.

"I've been busy recently, why? Has something happened?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise." she grinned almost impishly then, "But we'll go together next time, I want to see your face when you see the changes I've wrought."

I didn't bother disguising my interest: for all of the average Gryffindor's love for fame and whatnot, Minerva wasn't one to toot her own horn, she preferred to remark 'I told you so' after a fact, but she felt that praising herself was beneath her.

My eyes wandered freely for the slowly emptying Slug-Club, only for my attention to fall again and again on the group of people surrounding Riddle.

"Oh, those are all members of the Duelling Club," Minerva spoke when she noted where my focus was, "I don't know why Tom is chatting with them though, I don't think he's joined them."

Yeah, Riddle isn't much of a joiner. "Hogwarts actually has a Duelling Club?"

"Has anyone mentioned that you are curiously ignorant of what happens around you?" she rounded on me without bothering disguising how hilarious she found me.

"As I recall it, yes, Minerva, you do." I huffed in faux irritation, "Rather often, in my opinion."

"It doesn't mean that I'm wrong."

"Rubeus!" Slughorn's typically jolly voice made me turn in the direction of the portly wizard, who had approached us while I was busy eating and drinking, my mind trying to figure out what my friend might have accomplished in the past days.

"Professor." I greeted him with a nod, finishing my first glass of wine and unashamedly pouring myself another.

The portly wizard shook a finger in my direction almost threateningly: "I thought you would simply ignore my invite, my boy! What held you back?"

Trying out untested potions on powerless muggles, for their own good, of course. "Potions don't wait for anyone professor." I grinned, "Brewing under certain phases of the Moon is singularly stimulating."

The Head of House Slytherin sighed then, spotting the paper-thin excuse for what it was, but he allowed me to get away with my bullshit, a part of him still eager to see what kind of new marvel I'd eventually come up with.

"Well, since you're here, I wanted to introduce you to a student, he's a shoo-in for Slytherin prefect next year..."

My eyes scanned the room, spotting a dark-haired kid walking in our direction, his deep blue eyes obviously fixed on me: "Oh?"

"Orion Black is a year ahead of you, and he could use some support when it comes to the delicate art of potion-making." Slughorn's voice turned serious then.

"He'll be the future Lord Black, and a useful friend to have, if you play your cards right." Did I hear that name before?

I barely withheld a sigh. Isn't it enough that I pretend to care for your Slug Club? Now I have to cater to the needs of a kid that apparently is unable to follow a simple recipe? "How can someone manage to not pass Potions? Following the recipe to the letter is enough for an Acceptable, isn't it?"

My Head of House shot me a reproaching glare then, shifting his attention to Minerva, whose expression clearly manifested just how much she wanted me to shut up.

"I heard he's very good at Charms, professor Farsee mentioned he wanted him to get started on the NEWT Charm course despite his being a fourth-year student."

My eyebrows climbed into my hairline at the witch's words: "So he isn't an incapable idiot, he simply has difficulties with how Potions is framed as a subject?"

Unfortunately, my voice wasn't quite adequate for polite whispering, and the newcomer heard everything I just said: "I am most certainly not an idiot, no."

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