Stelara & Felix Felicis

The sky was stormy, color a fierce grey, matching my mood. It had drizzled quite heavily in the morning, and I wasn't a big fan of trudging through mud squelching beneath my shoes all the way to where Slughorn's class was due to take place.

"Good morning, good morning! Settle down, students!" he cried in that jovial voice of his, now somewhat subdued by the toll taken by the war. "And what a good morning it is." There was a low murmur of assent after the lasting pause when he beamed at the class, obviously expecting some sort of reaction.

"Instead of studying the usual, the standard potions and precautionary measures, I was thinking to make today's class a more practical one. A two hour class should be enough for attempting Star Glass Essence, shouldn't it?"

He walked around the classroom, pointing out the various ingredients arranged on the tables near the small cauldrons.

"Star Glass is a root from the Stelara plant, only potent if harvested in the light of a blood-red moon. It is one of the most fatal poisons known to wizarding kind. Execute with maximum caution, and please do refrain from wasting these ingredients, as many would lose life and limb to obtain them. Please remember a quarter of your grade is for class results, conduct and participation."

Having finished his instructions, he started his regular small talk with the more promising students of the class.

I frowned. Star Glass? I had never even heard or read its name before, not even in Severus's precious Potions book.

"Also, class," he called, putting his hand inside his cloak to reveal a small vial, gold stoppered with wax, the liquid inside sunnily spun gold in color. It drew a lot of attention. "I shall be gifting the winner with this vial of Felix Felicis. I don't need to elaborate, do I?" He raised an eyebrow.

Needless to say, that got quite a lot of us up and moving.

That little vial of literal joy would be akin to gold for most of us. It was a consequence-free escape from the emotions that were tying us down, damning us deep in the bowels of Tartarus.

Twenty minutes into the class, my cauldron was bubbling gently. Students all around me were struggling to manage, some already a few steps ahead of the others.

I squinted at my book, struggling to read the cramped text. After adding two dashes of syrup of hellebore, and two powdered roots Of Asphodel, I had to stir in three rotations of clockwise and anticlockwise, doubling each time the number from seven.

That was nearly three hundred rotations! I huffed in exhaustion.

No wonder Horace had instructed us to make it. The spell work would be too complex to rely on. He was skiving off on his own bloody job.

Git.

Thank god Ron didn't take Advanced Potions.

I turned back to mine.

I had yet to add the dragon skin and the moonseed. Scooping them up and plopping the thin crescent shaped seeds into the cauldron, I turned to the shriveled, curled up piece of skin with something akin to fascination. Wiry and small, it was extremely brittle, and the smells invading my nostrils were teetering between burnt chocolate and stinky socks. Every time I tried to cut it, it slipped out of my hand, or simply bounced away when I applied pressure. I stared at the clock. Time was running out, and I still had a couple steps to go. I needed that, and fast.

I tried to cut it again, pressing the leathery hide down with two fingers on either side to hold it in place. It was still fresh. The knife cut cleanly, blood pooling in around it. I tried to cut it into smaller pieces, but the knife, slick with the juice, missed its aim and cut my finger. It wasn't a major cut, I decided. I could go to the Infirmary and get it fixed up after the class.

I scooped up the skin and poured it, blood and all, into the cauldron. The potion immediately turned dark lilac. I started stirring, using my hand to measure smooth, precise rotations. The potion was slowly turning light, I just had to keep my hands steady.

One last rotation….

"Time's up!" Slughorn called from the other end of the classroom.

I started in panic.

My hand wavered, ever so slightly. A drop of blood formed from the cut and dripped down into the potion, almost in slow motion. My garbled, "No!" did nothing.

It immediately changed color to a dirty red, frothing like no tomorrow.

I scowled. My hair was a frizzy halo around my face, having absorbed the hot moisture from the cauldron.

All that effort, to waste. The fruit of my labor had rotten and long ago been dropped on the ground.

Sitting back, I watched Slughorn test the others.

He slowly made his way through the eleven of us, pausing occasionally to check a potion whose color seemed relatable by dropping a leaf in the cauldron to test its potency.

He stopped at Harry's.

His brilliant green eyes seemed dull, lifeless. My heart gave a pang. What I wouldn't give to see that smile of his one more time… to see those eyes light up once more…

The eyes that stared from behind the too big glasses set on the sunken face, filled with pallor. Slughorn dropped a fresh leaf into his potion. Even I could see that it perfectly matched the color described in the book.

The leaf withered up and crumbled to ash as soon as it touched the surface of the opaque liquid. "Ah, we have a winner!" He announced delightedly. "Look, class, how wonderfully Mr. Potter has followed the book's instructions! To the t!"

Followed.

Like sheep.

I watched him somewhat warily. My friend would have cheered. My best friend would have been happy at this one small accomplishment. This Harry simply gazed dully at his Potions Master. But I didn't know who he was anymore. It wasn't fair to judge. Maybe he didn't either.

"That's not fair! You haven't even checked the others yet!" Somebody complained from the back of the class.

"Yes, yes, I shall." Slughorn agreed, "However, since Mr. Potter has already set the standard for the best potion, I will only be stopping at a potion with equal potency and accuracy."

There was a grumbled murmur of agreement.

He swept from potion to potion, occasionally looking at one or two closely, but never stopping. Mine didn't even earn a glance, colored as it was. I ignored the scathing look he gave me at the complete waste of ingredients.

The class slowly drew to a close. Only ten minutes until the bell.

He was almost done with all of the students, anyway. I leant back in my seat, rocking back my chair on its two back legs. Only two were left.

Slughorn walked past Luna. "Very good." He nodded appreciatively, face twisting in sympathy. "But not as good as Mr. Potter's." Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Harry measuring out his potion into a vial for grading, not one emotion showing on his face. He had learned how to disguise vulnerabilities a bit too well.

Slughorn was bending over Malfoy's, obscuring my view. What color was it? I tilted my neck slightly to catch a glimpse.

"We have another winner!" He straightened up, striding to the front of the class, a clear vial in his hand; smile as fresh as a newborn babe's.

Didn't the war affect him at all?

Or maybe he was trying to be strong for our benefit. To put on a brave face for others. He certainly didn't look like it.

Collecting the vial from Harry, he held both out to the students. I looked from one to the other. Both were identical, the same smell of the fumes, even the same level of transparency. Who was going to get that tiny bottle of Felix?