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HP438- Love Potions
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 20:40:43 +0000 UTCAs Valentine’s Day crept closer, Harry noticed the sudden increase in awkward glances, hushed huddles, and girls conveniently cornering him in quieter corridors. After Susan and Daphne, it was clear the rest had decided they wanted their moment too... and preferably before the big day itself. Everyone knew the date mattered, even if none of them would say it aloud.
What tipped him off properly was Pansy.
She nearly had him alone after Charms... led him right into the old trophy room, lights dimmed, door nudged closed with just enough force to be casual. She’d even cast a fresh-scent charm, which, knowing Pansy, meant she’d spent at least twenty minutes deciding between rose and lavender. Unfortunately for her, Blaise barged in halfway through, holding a broken quill and muttering something about ink ratios.
The temperature dropped.
Pansy didn’t even yell. She just stared. Blaise backed out faster than a man facing a basilisk. Later, Harry swore he saw him flinch just passing her in the corridor.
But before the rest of the private “moments” could roll out, the usual group had gathered, this time around the study table tucked near the old archway in one of empty classrooms. Tracey had nicked a bottle of Butterbeer from the kitchens. Hermione arrived last, her eyes already narrowed.
“This is disgusting,” she said, setting the bottle down with a thud. “They brainwash each other?”
The bottle wobbled. Susan caught it.
“Welcome to Magical World,” Tracey said dryly. “Where love is optional and consent’s negotiable.”
“Not funny,” Hermione snapped.
“I wasn’t joking,” Tracey said.
The table was full, Daphne beside Harry, Luna cross-legged in her seat, Ginny leaning over to steal notes from Neville’s parchment. Astoria had draped herself sideways across two chairs, nibbling on a sherbet lemon like it was part of the plot.
“It’s not a new thing,” said Theo, from the far side. “Half the love letters passed in the common rooms have something extra. Has been that way since our parents were students.”
Susan sighed. “Doesn’t make it alright.”
“It makes it normal,” Blaise muttered, rubbing his neck. “Wizards get lazy. Want someone? Brew it. Easier than conversation.”
“You realise how mental that sounds, right?” Ginny said, crossing her arms.
Blaise shrugged. “Didn’t say I approved.”
“Just saying it's tradition?” Hannah asked, frowning.
Daphne glanced at her. “That’s the problem. It’s tradition. It’s also vile.”
“I’m surprised it’s not banned,” Hermione muttered.
“It is,” said Susan. “Sort of. The Ministry’s stance is ‘discouraged,’ which means no one enforces it.”
“They'd have to arrest half the country if they did,” Tracey added.
Luna, who’d been quiet until then, tilted her head. “We can find a solution, perhaps?” Her gaze turned to Harry. “You’re better at potions than Snape.”
That earned a few nods. Even Hermione didn’t disagree.
Theo raised an eyebrow. “When even Hermione’s quiet, you know it’s bad.”
Harry set down his quill. “Depends what we want. A detection charm? An antidote? Prevention?”
“All three?” Tracey offered.
“That’s asking for a miracle, not a potion.”
“You’ve done worse,” said Neville.
“I’m flattered,” Harry said, deadpan. “Alright. First step’s knowing what’s being used. You can’t make a fix without ingredients.”
Susan passed over a small folded note. “We’ve been collecting samples. That one was found in a pumpkin tart last Friday. Astoria caught it.”
Astoria waved her sherbet lemon. “Boys are predictable. Sweets, flowers, compliments. Then suddenly you’re feeling giddy and thinking Parkinson’s hair looks soft.”
Pansy looked up, affronted. “My hair is soft.”
“No doubt,” Harry muttered.
Daphne leaned over to glance at the note. “I recognise this—Amortentia variant. Not a strong brew, but enough to cloud judgement.”
“I don’t want to just counter it,” Hermione said. “I want them caught.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You want to test every snack in the castle?”
“We can make a detection ward,” Luna said. “Something subtle. Tie it to food or drink.”
“That could work,” Harry said, already scribbling on the corner of his notebook. “Charm it to glow blue around tampered stuff.”
“Can you brew an antidote?” Susan asked.
He nodded. “Probably. But I’ll need a full list of ingredients they’re using. Some of these potions blend a dozen different effects.”
“I’ll help,” Daphne said immediately.
“Me too,” added Hermione.
“I’ll check the kitchens,” said Hannah. “See if anything’s being slipped in before meals.”
“Don’t get caught,” Tracey warned. “They’ll start whispering about House Elves rebelling again.”
“We should test it all before Valentine’s,” Neville said. “That’s when it’ll spike.”
“Obviously,” Pansy muttered. “Half the school’s already acting like they’ve been cursed.”
Harry tapped the parchment with his wand, noting the reaction time of the ink. “I’ll start brewing tonight. Tracey, come with.”
She beamed up. “Yes, Professor.”
Harry shook his head, snorting. “You’re not getting extra credit for enthusiasm, Tracey.”
She winked, grabbing her parchment and spinning on her heel as she left the study table. The rest drifted off one by one—Susan pulling Hannah aside for some whispered commentary, Astoria trailing behind with her sherbet lemon still in her mouth, offering pointed looks like she was collecting blackmail material.
Harry and Tracey left together, Tracey tucked the parchment under her arm, matching Harry’s stride.
“You know,” she said after a beat, “I’m pretty sure you’re just making up these potions as you go.”
Harry glanced sideways, one eyebrow raised. “That’s a bold accusation, Davis. Care to back it up?”
“Well, you’re scribbling half of it from memory, quoting ingredients like you’re reading off a shopping list, and somehow it all works. You expect me to believe you’re not just randomly throwing them?”
Harry chuckled, “I doubt randomly thrown items would create a Potion Empire, but sure.”
Tracey gave him a look. “You’re saying you’ve never just winged it and hoped it didn’t explode?”
Harry shot her a smirk. “I’m saying, when I wing it, it still works. That’s not luck. That’s talent.”
She narrowed her eyes, but there was a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Modest as ever.”
“Modesty’s for people who can afford to fake humility,” he said, stepping around a stairwell portrait that muttered about curfew.
They’d left the common spaces behind, passing through the quieter corners of the castle. Somewhere above them, Peeves was humming a song with suspicious lyrics, but otherwise it was quiet.
They made their way to the Room of Requirement, the door appeared on cue, opening to a familiar space already set up, long worktable, shelves stocked with tools, and a bubbling cauldron off to the side like it had been expecting them. The fire in the corner was already lit, casting a low orange glow across the stone floor.
Tracey eyed the wall. “You sure this place isn’t sentient?”
“It is Hogwarts,” Harry said. “Everything’s watching. Some bits just admit it.”
Harry pulled the bag off his shoulder and dropped it onto the table with a dull thump. “Right,” he said, unzipping the top. “Snail slime, powdered knotgrass, three jars of essence from that dodgy batch Susan found near the Hufflepuff dorms... and that weird syrup from the kitchens we think someone tampered with.”
“Lovely,” Tracey said, wrinkling her nose as he laid each item out like he was dealing cards. “We’re either saving the school or building a particularly violent dessert.”
Harry snorted. “Could be both. If this lot explodes, we will at least go out smelling like treacle.”
Tracey moved around the table, peering into the jars. “You always this cheerful before a dangerous potion brew?”
“I am only cheerful when I know I am better than the last idiot who tried,” he said, checking the heat on the cauldron, cracking open a bottle of essence and pouring a slow stream into the cauldron. It turned a murky grey before settling into a soft blue.
Tracey crossed her arms. “That’s the most Slytherin thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“I live in the dungeon,” he replied, measuring out a pinch of powdered scurvy grass. “Something had to rub off eventually.”
“You didn’t come here just to stir things in a pot, did you?” she asked, gaze flicking from the brew to him.
Harry didn’t answer straightaway. He stirred twice more, clockwise, then tapped the rim to test the reaction. The colour held. That was good. He set the ladle down and looked up at her finally.
“No,” he said. “Didn’t come here just for that.”
Tracey tilted her head. “Alright. Go on then.”
