Thalia shivered as they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Even though it wasn't in the dungeons, Snape had somehow made it seem fifteen below freezing. Her breath hung in the air, white against the dark pictures of what appeared to be victims of a variety of curses. Several were writhing in pain while others lay motionless on the floor, sprouting gruesome appendages.

Snape strut in after the students and shut the door with a click. "I have not asked you to take out your books," he said as he swept across the classroom to the front. From in front of Thalia, Hermione hastily dropped her book in her bag.

Snape's ever-drawling, icy voice faded in the background as Thalia's thoughts swept her away, her eyes fixated on each horror Snape so nonchalantly displayed. Did he do that with his own wand and then captured it in a photograph in case he ever needed reassurance of how evil he was? (Thalia could nearly picture it: Snape entering his office after a long day of taking points from Gryffindor, heaving a sigh, picking up a photo of a dismembered, emaciated victim, looking in the mirror, and whispering to himself, "you, sir, are a boss ass bitch.")

Too late, Thalia realized Jason was violently nudging her. She looked up and saw Snape curling his lip at her.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he sneered. "I was saying, Miss Grace, since you seem to find my class so meaningless as to not pay attention, you should be able to tell me the advantages of using a nonverbal spell."

Thalia shrugged lackadaisically. "Well damn, I dunno, it's cool, innit?"

"Another five points from Gryffindor, Miss Grace. And in the future, if you wished to appear cool, I would advise you to shower."

"Holy Hecate, it can't be legal for a teacher to talk to you like that, can it?" whispered Annabeth in disbelief.

"You will now divide," Snape continued to the rest of the class, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Nico turned to Thalia and rubbed his fingers together with small clicking noises from his tongue. "Hey, hey, c'mere, pidgeon, pidgey pidgey pidgey."

"Ah, shut up, Death Breath," said Thalia. "Your scrawny kitten bones can barely hold you up as it is."

"In. Silence," Snape snarled.

>>>•O•<<<

It took Thalia a trip to the infirmary to get Madam Pomfrey to undo the swirling black fire that darted in and out of Thalia's pores, making her appear  extremely hairy and unfortunate.

"Nico, I hope you realize we're at war," said Thalia after the black fire stopped leaping from her nose.

"Oh no, now I feel really bad," said Nico, rubbing his wrists, which ached from carrying Thalia. "By the way, you should really lay off the treacle tart."

"You're one to talk, have you looked in a mirror since we got here?"

"Hah, I thought you said I had kitten bones."

"Yeah, kitten bones, fat a—"

"Welcome, welcome!" said Professor Slughorn as they entered the Potions classroom. "Please, take a seat!"

Thalia and Nico glanced around. Piper, some other Slytherin, Malfoy, and Zabini sat at another. Percy, Annabeth, and Jason were at another. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated at a third. Terry Boot, two other Ravenclaws, and Will filled a fourth.

"This feels racist," whispered Thalia to Nico, who had already made a beeline to sit at Percy, Annabeth, and Jason's table. That forced Thalia to sit at Harry, Ron, and Hermione's table. She couldn't help but feel like the fourth wheel of a tricycle.

"Now,— enlighten me on your names?— Miss Thalia, Mister Nico, I was just introducing the class to some potions," said Slughorn with a beam. "If you need help with identification, Miss Granger has proved she is beyond capable to help you. But before we continue, I would like you to smell this."

He bustled over to a cauldron with curious spiral-like steam and ladled it into what appeared to be a glass teacup. The others leaned forward unconsciously.

"Just give it a sniff and tell us what it's like," said Slughorn eagerly.

Thalia didn't need the potion up close to know exactly what it reminded her of. It was distinctively a blend of pine, jasmine, applewood, fir, fire, and mist, which she rattled off to the class.

"Oho," chortled Slughorn. "I presume you enjoy nature, then."

"Just a bit."

"Well, Miss Thalia, this is Amortentia, a love potion. Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room. Oh yes, when you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love..."

"Hm," replied Thalia, perhaps not as impressed as she assumed she should've been.

"But now," said Slughorn, pouring the potion back into the cauldron, "it is time for us to start our work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said one of the Ravenclaws, pointing to the last cauldron. It was quite obviously a pot of gold. Thalia wouldn't have been surprised to see a rainbow coming out of it.

Slughorn smiled mysteriously. "Oho, yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck!" exclaimed Hermione, bouncing slightly like a child in class with the dire need to use the loo. "It makes you lucky!"

"Ten points to Gryffindor!" Slughorn beamed. "Yes. Drink it— moderately— and your day will be perfect, from dawn to dusk."

His gaze became distant and dreamy for a moment, then he was back. "And that is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson. Turn to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

Thalia was almost fearful to grab her ingredients in the stampede of students that rushed to the store cupboard. By the time she'd deciphered the faded handwritten labels on the jars, Malfoy had already returned to his seat and was chopping his valerian roots loudly.

No human noises were made as everyone was too focused to speak. Liquid luck, thought Thalia as her knife left indents in the table. Boy, would that sell well. If you were adept at potion-making, of course.

Harry muttered something to Hermione who pushed a knife towards him without looking up. The steam rising from her cauldron had nearly turned her hair into an afro. Thalia squinted back down at her book and began to chop her sopophorous bean, which stubbornly slid out from under the blade every time she pressed down.

Thalia eyed Percy from the side. He was having trouble crushing the bean as well. Sweat was beading on his forehead and dripping down his nose. Understandably as well. Fires had been stoked to burning and adrenaline seemed to raise the dungeons to the temperature of Trelawney's stifling divination attic.

"And... time's up!" said Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

Thalia sighed and straightened her back. Her potion appeared a thick, resolute gray. She peered at Percy's. It looked nearly perfect. Slughorn evidently thought so as well, as he let out a pleased grunt. He took a few stirs then moved on to their own table. He passed by Thalia's, frowned, Ron's, frowned more, Hermione's, looked rather pleased, and then stopped at Harry's. He stirred and sniffed Harry's, then went back to Percy's, and pondered for a few moments.

"Mister Jackson," he began. Harry looked absolutely downcast.

"I'm sorry," Slughorn continued. "But Harry here's won it. It looks like you didn't quite have enough time to skin the frog legs. Your potion would nearly have been perfect."

"Yes, sir," said Percy. "It took me some time to chop the sopophorous beans."

Slughorn nodded, turned to Harry and, beaming, chortled about his mother's potion talent while scooping some liquid gold into a tiny bottle which could easily be engulfed in one's palm.

With a final "use it well!" after Harry, they were dismissed.