Chapter 123: Slughorn's Potion and the Order of Merlin
"So—jealous?" Parvati teased when she noticed Lavender's expression.
"And what if I am?" Lavender shot back, clearly flustered, her bravado not quite matching her nerves.
"Jealous is fine," Parvati replied lightly. "How could I possibly stop you from dreaming?"
"What did you say?" Lavender glared at her. Under that lethal stare, Parvati quickly surrendered.
"Honestly, it's not like I have any grand ambitions," Lavender muttered. "But even being friends with him would be nice."
"That's perfectly normal," Parvati said calmly. "That group of his is full of top-tier students. Diggory goes without saying. Cho Chang is always near the top of the rankings. And the Weasley twins—sure, they're always causing trouble, but their grades have never slipped."
"What about Addams?" Lavender suddenly seized on the point. "Why does she get to be there? Just because she's pure-blood?"
"You still haven't noticed?" Parvati looked at her with a trace of pity.
"Noticed what?" Lavender frowned.
"Lavender, can't you tell? Fythorne's relationship with her is obviously different."
Lavender fell silent. After a long pause, she finally muttered,
"That's not fair."
"There's nothing unfair about it," Parvati said evenly. "Don't let jealousy blind you. Besides, is Addams not outstanding in her own right? Every time Professor Snape calls on Wednesday, she answers perfectly."
"They could be coordinating in advance," Lavender insisted stubbornly.
Parvati sighed.
"Then what about Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class? Or Professor Flitwick's Charms? Were they coordinating with her too?"
"Don't lie to yourself, Lavender."
After that, Parvati stopped trying to persuade her—she was getting hungry anyway.
It had to be said: Parvati was remarkably clear-headed. Unfortunately, you can't wake someone who's pretending to sleep.
---
For the past two weeks, Russell had been holed up in the Potions classroom every evening with Wednesday, keeping watch over the Polyjuice-derived transformation potion and experimenting with ways to simplify it.
At one point, Russell had considered borrowing Scabbers from Ron—but after remembering that the rat was actually a vicious Death Eater, he wisely abandoned the idea.
The spell that supposedly blew up an entire street still made Russell suspicious. He couldn't help wondering whether the Ministry of Magic had exaggerated the incident just to make his Merlin Medal sound more impressive.
Russell felt that, in order to boost morale, the Ministry was very likely capable of exaggerating things like that.
At lunchtime that day, a sudden rush of owls poured in through the windows—so many that they darkened the air like a storm cloud. Parcels rained down in front of the students, landing with rapid thuds across the Great Hall.
"Let's see what today's Daily Prophet is saying," Cedric cleared his throat and unfolded the newspaper.
"Merlin's beard—" His eyes widened in shock.
"Russell, your house prefect—Amelia Slughorn—she's on the front page. Top headline."
A thought immediately flashed through Russell's mind. Could it be that the potion worked? He quickly took the paper from Cedric.
Sure enough, the headline was simple and striking:
"Granddaughter of Potion Master Horace Slughorn, Outstanding Hogwarts Witch Amelia Slughorn, Successfully Invents Bloodbane Potion and Donates Formula Free of Charge."
According to the Daily Prophet, the Bloodbane Potion was similar in function to the Wolfsbane Potion. It could alleviate vampires' bloodlust and, more importantly, cure those infected with Bloodbane.
Unlike lycanthropy, being bitten by a vampire did not turn one into a vampire. Instead, it transmitted a viral condition known as Bloodbane.
Those infected suffered from symptoms such as light sensitivity and heat aversion. Sunlight caused intense burning sensations on their skin, forcing them to stay in cool, shaded environments. Apart from that, they were no different from ordinary people.
They gained none of a vampire's longevity, resilience, or blood-drinking abilities.
Fortunately, Bloodbane was not contagious, so sufferers were not usually discriminated against.
"Senior Slughorn's decision to make the formula public for free is truly admirable," Russell said sincerely. Regardless of her personal motives, this was undeniably a good deed.
After all, the inventor of Wolfsbane Potion had never done the same—he earned a massive amount of Galleons every year from patent fees.
But the Slughorn family was hardly short on money. Horace Slughorn alone held dozens of potion patents. Trading the Bloodbane formula for reputation was a far smarter move—and it paved the way beautifully for Amelia's future.
"With something like this," Cedric said enviously, practically drooling, "she should at least get a Third Class Order of Merlin, right?"
"Third class?" Russell scoffed. "You're seriously underestimating her. First class might be difficult, but Second Class is almost guaranteed."
The Order of Merlin wasn't awarded purely on merit—background mattered too.
The Slughorns were an ancient pure-blood family. Horace Slughorn had once been Head of Slytherin House and held enormous influence among pure-blood circles. Amelia was very much considered "one of their own."
Even Damocles Belby, inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, had received a Second Class Order. There was no way Amelia Slughorn wouldn't.
"Second Class Order of Merlin?!" Cedric exclaimed, his voice rising uncontrollably.
The Great Hall fell silent—then erupted into loud discussion.
At the teachers' table, Snape's expression noticeably softened. For once, he even smiled—not a cold sneer, but genuine satisfaction.
Although Horace Slughorn had once been his teacher, Snape had long surpassed him in potion-making. Amelia had been entrusted to Snape years ago, and seeing his student achieve something like this stirred emotions even in his usually deadened heart.
"Haha, she's truly impressive," Professor Flitwick beamed with pride. A Ravenclaw student achieving this kind of accomplishment reflected glory on the entire house.
The Slytherin table, however, felt conflicted.
They bore no hostility toward Amelia Slughorn. Instead, they were torn—on one hand, this was a triumph for pure-blood wizardkind. On the other, it all but guaranteed that Ravenclaw would win the House Cup this year.
"Congratulations, Russell," Cedric said sourly. "Looks like Ravenclaw's taking the Cup again."
"How can you say that?" Hermione protested indignantly.
"Winning an Order of Merlin is impressive, sure—but Gryffindor still has a chance! I answer questions in class all the time. I've earned loads of points!"
The Weasley twins burst out laughing.
"Hermione, Hermione," Fred said cheerfully, "not to rain on your parade, but while you earn points, someone else loses even more."
"You lost points again?" Hermione demanded fiercely.
"Of course not," George shrugged. "You know us—whenever we lose points, we immediately find a way to earn them back."
"And then repeat the process," Fred added. "Remember when Ron stood up for you? That cost Gryffindor fifty points."
Hermione's face went pale. She fell silent.
If not for her, Professor McGonagall wouldn't have deducted those fifty points.
Seeing her distress, the twins quickly reassured her.
"It wasn't your fault," Fred said. "Malfoy started it."
"But… in the end, those fifty points were lost because of me," Hermione murmured, her face scrunched up.
"No one blames you," George said. "We all see how hard you work."
"Besides," Fred added casually, "Gryffindor doesn't actually care that much about the House Cup. Our only real goal is to beat Slytherin."
"Really?" Hermione's expression brightened slightly.
After all, Slytherin had lost fifty points too.
Honestly, Fred wasn't wrong. Even if Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw won the Cup, Gryffindor would happily congratulate them—as long as Slytherin didn't win.
"You know Russell got a Third Class Order of Merlin last year, right?" George asked.
"Of course," Hermione nodded.
"Because of that," George said dramatically, "Professor Dumbledore awarded Ravenclaw fifty points. Fifty."
"If Amelia really gets a Second Class Order," Fred continued, "giving Ravenclaw a hundred points wouldn't be surprising at all."
"A hundred points…" Hermione started counting on her fingers.
"Even if I answered questions all semester, I couldn't earn that many…"
She collapsed onto the table, utterly defeated.
Russell watched their conversation in silence. Honestly, they were still too young.
If Dumbledore wanted to, he could easily invent a reason to give Gryffindor two hundred points. Who were they supposed to argue with?
Russell suspected that this would be exactly how things played out—Gryffindor was practically the predetermined House Cup winner.
Just then, he noticed a parcel in front of him. His owl had returned.
Opening it, he found a collection of sparkling trinkets—jewelry he had asked Aunt Morticia to purchase earlier. They weren't outrageously expensive, but every piece was beautiful.
No better time than now.
He decided to place them at their agreed-upon location that very night.
The Forbidden Forest was eerily quiet under the night sky. With the Shield Charm now firmly mastered, Russell felt far more confident in his ability to protect himself.
Perhaps it was finally time to explore it properly.