Chapter Twenty-Three:
( newt level classes )

▂✫⌒*･ﾟ

             DESPITE TELLING RICKY OVER and over again that she is one-hundred percent not lying about what happened during the summer, he has trouble believing it. Not her, but just the fact that it happened. She cannot blame him since if her first-year self was told that in the summer of her sixth-year she would run away and find her brother, she would have laughed. Well, at the finding her lost brother part, not the running away since that is the most believable.

             The two eat their breakfast, sitting beside Luna who keeps her head in a book about magical creatures. Smell of honey-dripped syrup begin filling her nose and Spencer finds herself inhaling deeply in surprise. There is two definite foods she enjoys eating from— even if they are in small amount. First of, Hogwarts's had one of the best dinners ever amazingly done by the house-elves. Secondly, Mrs. Weasley has the absolute best type of foods, especially when all of them would sit down and the dinner table would be filled with happiness and glory unlike the one back in the manor.

             "Daniel Gray... I mean— Daniel Montague?" Ricky repeats for the hundredth time counting yesterday night as well. Spencer lets his moment of external panic pass briefly, Luna glancing up from her book curiously before deciding the book is better. Spencer tucks a piece of her hair by the side of her ear, pursing her lips in thought of the man's biological name.

             "Yeah, I wouldn't call him Daniel Montague," Spencer sighs, rubbing her temples. Ricky sends her a puzzled expression. "Why? He's your br—"

             "Don't," she cuts him off with a sharp look. Her best friend frowns at her tone and then nods slowly. Spencer gives an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry. I just haven't gotten the chance to accept accept it— you get me?"

             Ricky leans his head back. "You haven't called him brother...?" He questions quietly with a knowing glance. She groans in exasperation and nods with her face in her hands.

             "Is that bad? I like him— truly, he is someone I've grown to care about, but to call him that? I can't... and I just don't call him Daniel Montague because he chose to change his name into something that means love to him, I don't want to ruin that by calling him 'Montague'," Spencer explains roughly, taking a small bite of her food. Her friend gives her a nod of understanding. And it's true— she envies him for changing his name and having him try to forget his family, but she is stuck.

             "You know what, Spencer? Take your time trying to figure it all out, okay? I'm sure he'll understand," Ricky comforts, his head tilting up as a whole bunch of owls begin spurring their way. He lets a smile grow on his lips when one comes to him and Spencer glances down at her almost done food not expecting one either way. Morgana would always boast about it. The only reason she looks up is when an owl perches itself right by her food and tilts his head, a letter hanging in between it tied. "Is that for you?" Ricky questions slightly surprise. She does not blame him because she too is confused.

             It is. Her name is pleasantly written across the middle in familiar handwriting. She gently pats the owl before retrieving the letter she received and cleanly opens it up.

Dear Spencer,

             I'm sorry for not being able to see you go into your sixth-year of Hogwarts. I wholeheartedly wish that I could've given you a goodbye and good luck. Apart from what happened toward the end of my sixth year, the beginning had been the best. Assuming you are beside your best friend, tell him hi for me, yeah? I'd love to meet him one day since you spoke of him so highly.

             Perhaps seeing your sister once more will bring your hopes down but you, Spencer Montague, are strong. You know that philosopher, Kahlil Gibran, he once wrote that "out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." I wish that you wouldn't have suffered and hope that you don't continue to do so, but I do know that you have a soul brighter than all of the Montague family put together.

             Write to me daily, yeah? And tell Professor Flitwick 'hi' for me too! He's trustworthy. I hope to see you soon.

Sincerely,
Daniel

             Spencer knows her lips twisted upwards when she read the words. She never knew what it meant to be loved... not until Ricky came into her life. The first time he stared at her lovingly, she thought she had done something wrong. His eyes stared at her with a gap of openness that it had scared her endlessly; he was revealing his vulnerability and all she knew back then was that if she showed weakness, she'll end up hurt. When her eyes glances up at his own, she senses that same expression and feeling immediately. A smile is on his own face— wide and honest. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Spencer laughs it out, not realizing of her own.

             "This is one of the happiest I've seen you, Spencer," Ricky confesses, not even caring of the world happening around them as they stare at one another. "I think meeting Daniel has given you a new vision life and trust me when I say I will not let Morgana ruin this for you," he finishes.

             Before she can thank him for his beautiful words, Professor Flitwick comes up to them with their schedules. He kindly hands the two small papers to Spencer and she hands Ricky the one addressed to him.

             "Are you both alright with it? Five classes each, am I correct?" Professor Flitwick questions calmly, tipping his round glasses clearly. Spencer glances down at the paper noticing that they were all NEWT level classes and perhaps the harshest topics so far. She nods without a second to waste. "Yes, sir," she agrees, smiling kindly at him.

             Just before he can leave, Spencer tells him nonchalantly, "Agent Gray has asked me to say hello for him, Professor." It takes around ten seconds before a look of realization fell on the man's face. His eyes widen in disbelief. "He trusts that you won't say anything about it to anyone, however."

             "Yes, of course, Miss Montague," Professor Flitwick nods repeatedly, appearing flustered out of a sudden. He leaves soon enough to hand the rest of them out and Ricky slips her schedule out of her hands. "Ah, amazing. Only five classes and our first one doesn't even start until a later time! It's a shame, though, that Snape will be teaching it," he grumbles out.

             His smile slowly began disappearing from his face and instead it drops into a frown. "Since when were Theo and Malfoy friends?" Ricky blurts out the question in shock, his whole chest most likely falling based on the tone of his voice.

             Spencer turns to see what he means and she swallows harshly upon noticing that their old friend is in fact sitting across Malfoy, his shoulders coinciding with Blaise's. "I... I don't know," she sighs out, shaking her head in confusion.

             Ricky gulps with a shudder of fear. "Didn't you say that Harry and even you think Malfoy's a Death Eater?" He whispers the last part, closing his eyes in pure disgust. Her friend is never the one to want to state the obvious of their return, having feared for his family's life that are just muggles.

             "Maybe Theo is, but it doesn't change the fact that he's good—"

             "Spencer..." Ricky frowns, his face filled with dreadful anguish.

             She raises his hand to shush him up. "No, no, hear me out, alright? Not everyone has the heart to run away like I did— Theo's only got his father left and he most likely had to have gone to Malfoy or something, I don't know, but even if he does maybe we can still help him get out of it," Spencer begins rambling, her fingers tapping alongside the table.

             "We don't even know if he wants help," Ricky sighs.

             Spencer crosses her arms with determination. "Well, I'm not going to give up on him. Not after he chose to befriend us last year."

             Slowly, he nods his head. "Okay... but I don't want you to blame yourself if it doesn't work out," he warns quietly.

             Noticing that their food has already disappeared from their plates, Ricky and Spencer begin heading to their common room. The owl Daniel sent follows them all the way inside— even getting past the doorknob that asked a riddle which Ricky proudly answered. Technically, owls are meant to go on the Owlery, but it s not hers so she figures people wouldn't mind.

             Sitting beside a familiar desk by the window of the common room, Spencer takes out a parchment paper and her quill and ink to write back a letter to Daniel. Ricky busies himself trying to organize all of his material that he does not give himself time for the day before as she begins writing.

Dear Daniel,

             It's quite alright you didn't come say goodbye. You have a job to do. Ricky has said that he'd love to meet you as well. I suppose I'm writing back to tell you that I am thankful for getting to know you in a short amount of time and for the kind words you speak and write of. However, I also kind of got some information about 'O'. A friend of mine had been one of the last people to purchase that of his and it had been in the twentieth of August. Also, I questioned if this 'O' seemed out of the ordinary, but he responded that he was the same as always. Don't know if that'll get you far, but that was all I could get. Hope to see you soon as well.

Sincerely,
Spencer

             By the time she is sure she sent away the owl to return to Daniel, it is time for their first class to start. When they enter inside the new Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she cannot help but sigh in disappointment. The good news: it is not filled with the pink walls and desk as last year; the bad news is that it felt gloomier than usual, the curtains drawn over the windows and light only dimmed by candles. New pictures adorn the walls, many of them showing people who appeared in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Although she knows Professor Snape is part of the Order, part of her still does not trust him. Look, she's met the real Mad-Eye Moody and he doesn't necessarily like kids, but is still respectful when needed. Snape, however, is a whole different type of person. A bully, if you'd say. Spencer is sure the only reason he's helping is because Dumbledore has some blackmail on him or something.

             Just as she is about to take out her book for the class, Professor Snape eyes all of them in disgust and sneers, "I have not asked you to take out your books." He closes the door and moves to face the class behind his desk. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."

             Spencer calmly sits down beside Ricky, her eyes slowly wandering to where the Slytherins bundle up together. Last year by some random chance, she ended up sitting beside Blaise after arriving late because of the Weasley twins. This time she actually sits beside her best friend, but she cannot help but feel guilty for wanting to sit beside the Slytherin once more.

             "You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe," Professor Snape begins his announcement, his black eyes traveling around the students. Spencer forces herself not to roll her own, placing her chin uninterestingly in her folded hands. "Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised many of you scraped an OWL in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all you manage to keep up with the NEWT work, which will be even more advanced."

             In a lower voice, he adds in, "The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is served, sprouts a head even fiercer and clever than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

             "Your defenses," Snape talks a bit louder than before, "then must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicates to the ones he has up, "give a fair representation of what happens to those that suffers, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" — he waved a hand toward the witch who appeared to be screaming in agony— "feel the Dementor's kiss" — a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall— "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" — a bloody mass upon the ground.

             Spencer eyes the pictures with force, feeling the breakfast she had over an hour ago try to come up and out. Parvati Patil in a high-pitched voice questions, "Has an Inferius been seen, then? Is it definite, he is using them?"

             Snape barely gives her a glance, but he does answer the question. "The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," he answers with a short nod, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

             He set off again around the other side of the classroom and every student's eyes watch as his dark robes billow behind him. "...you are complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

             Spencer thinks back to the battle in the Department of Mysteries... the way her wand had been across from her and she had large hopes that a nonverbal spell would work in the midst of not dying. Fortunately, it had. It had been tricky of her to try it out since she had tried and failed before. Though, she figured out that day that perhaps it is the same as if saying the spell out-loud, but with more confidence. Her hand raises up at Snape's question, but as did Hermione's. She glares at the older man knowing he is hoping for anyone but them two to have their arms raised and when he notices no one else, he motions to Hermione.

             "Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," Hermione recites the answer from their sixth-year book. "Which gives you a split-second advantage."

             "An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," Snape sneers dismissively. He turns his glare toward Spencer and says, "Perhaps if you get chosen next time you won't recite the text."

             The young Montague raises an eyebrow unamused.

             "Any who, her answer is correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some... lack," Professor Snape easily eyes Harry without a second to waste before turning his attention back to the rest. "You will now divide 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."

             Ricky and her head to a certain side, wands raised against one another. Spencer does not hold a stance of defense or offense and instead examines his. His arm are slightly raised farther from his chest making her realize he is not trying to defend himself. Ricky is trying to jinx her— trying being the key word since no spell came her way. She mimics his own body posture realizing they could only defend themselves if the other actually attacks.

             Locomotor Wibbly. As she thinks about the words, nothing seems to occur. Okay... pretend this is all natural. Hear your words inside your brain. Say it without opening your mouth. Say it—

             Locomotor Wibbly, Spencer points her wand confidently back at her friend and she widens her eyes when a spark lit from her wand, the spell hitting Ricky chest-squared. He grunts back in surprise, falling to the ground unprepared. The class stops and turned to them with wide-eyes, watching quietly as Spencer then casts the counter spell for the Jelly-Legs Curse. Professor Snape barely raises his eyebrows before telling the class to return to their assignment, strolling by them and quietly telling Spencer, "Five points to Ravenclaw."

             Ricky stands up with her help and dusts himself off, a look filled with impressiveness. "How'd you do that! A little warning next time, yeah?"

             Spencer grimaces slightly. "I did it back at the Department of Mysteries for the first time... desperately and yet with a determination to not die that added confidence with it," she answers in a low voice. Her eyes scan his face in worry. "I didn't hurt you bad, did I?"

             He shakes his head with a small grin. "Nah, I'm good. Just caught me off guard, I suppose. So, uh— let me try jinxing you instead and—"

             "—and I'll defend myself," Spencer nods in agreement. Everyone else in the class resumes to their practice until their attention goes toward Harry and Ron.

             "Pathetic, Weasley," Snape sneers. "Here, let me show you—"

             Spencer watches as he turns his wand on Harry so fast that her Gryffindor friend forgot he is in class and not actually in battle. In a loud and dangerous voice, he yells, "Protego!" Her lips part in awe at how incredibly strong his Shield Charm works out. So strong that it even knocks Snape off-balance and makes him hit a desk. She is not the only one watching by now and instead calmly focuses how Snape stands up with a scowl.

             "Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?" The scowling professor hisses in anger.

             Harry clenches his jaw and stiffly answers, "Yes."

             "Yes, sir."

             Spencer knows this moment will never leave her mind— and she remembers the words Daniel told her during summer. To focus on the bright side, the parts you find amusing or are the most happy. When Harry smartly tells Professor Snape, "There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor," she has to cover her mouth in hopes to hide her small laugh.

             Even after class finishes, Harry's iconic line has been crossed around the school. Spencer swears she hears Dean Thomas say he will write to the Ministry himself so it can be the school's new motto. Another person jokes about how this will be the reason Snape'll be gone soon.

             During their break before Potions, Spencer begins doing her studying and homework for Snape. The topic they will be discussing soon is about the Inferius which she finds absolutely disgusting and yet slightly interesting. During the late 1800s, when Grindelwald rose to power, he had wish to create an army of Inferi. However, it is Voldemort that actually had done the great power dealer with all the people he had murdered. Where he placed them? Spencer does not know.

             She raises up her head in time to notice that Ricky hides himself behind a book, obviously trying to get a good look at something else. Her eyes follow his gaze and she bites back a smile knowing he somehow still manages to find Theodore Nott good looking as ever. She cannot blame him, of course.

             "Yeah, and then Blaise came up and asked me out," Spencer decides to say, figuring out this is the best way to try and see if Ricky is paying attention.

             "That's interesting," Ricky hums, his eyes following Theodore's body. The Slytherin is placed in Draco's left side, suspiciously quiet the whole round or at least that is what Spencer assumes based on his mouth being closed and his eyes gazing at the ground. "Wait," her best friend blinks in surprise and turns to her incredulously. "What?"

             Spencer snickers. "So you're somewhat paying attention, then. Nothing happened— it was just a test... stop looking at me like that!"

             Ricky narrows his eyes at her. "Do you want Zabini to ask you out?"

             The young Montague widens her eyes in surprise and then when she realizes that she is taking long trying to answer, she shakes her head, "What? No!"

             He begins forming a smirk. "Then why come up with that lie? I haven't seen you get this flustered since Cedric complimented your dress during the Yule Ball... and with Fleur Delacour," he points out.

             "You know," Spencer changes the topic, "I wished I liked girls. Fleur would have been my love— or Ginny."

             "But clearly I'm the gay one, and you're the one crushing on a certain Slytherin—"

             "Oh, shut up. As if I didn't see you checking out 'on a certain Slytherin'," Spencer retorts back, ignoring the flush on her cheeks. If someone would to glance their way, they'd awfully assume something had occurred to them by the way both of them are in a current dark shade of red.

             "Look what you did!" The two of them exclaims in unison.

             About thirty minutes later after finishing Snape's harsh homework for the day, the bell rings alerting them to head to their next class. Upon arriving to the dungeons, Spencer notices that about a dozen more actually progressed to NEWT level. Ricky and her glances at one another since their friends already had their four people necessary (Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie). Four of their housemates sat with one another and as did the Slytherins which Spencer realizes she has talked to most of them. Fuck, Spencer curses internally.

             "Welcome, welcome Spencer!" Professor Slughorn greets enthusiastically, urging her to sit down with a pleased smile. Spencer smiles politely before tugging Ricky to one of the empty tables— unfortunately, right beside the Slytherins rather than the Gryffindors. She sniffs curiously, feeling a slight whiff of familiar scents hit her nose. Her throat begins drying up and she swears it is a strong smell of chocolate, the smell of books, and... almost like peppermint and something else? Where has she smelt that before? It seems familiar and yet, she cannot remember... Spencer lets a grin fall into her lips lazily before she glances at Ricky who mimics her expression and then slowly begins frowning.

             "Why does it smell like you?" He questions humbly, although his head tilts as he smells some few other scents uncorrelated with Spencer. She furrows her brows in confusion before noticing that the chocolate scent she smells is because of him.

             "Me? More like—" she stops herself from continuing, a look of realization falling in her lips. Before she can speak her new understanding of what just happened, Professor Slughorn clears his throat and calls for their attention.

             "Now then, scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making," Slughorn begins, whose massive outlines was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. Before he can continue, Harry raises his hand and calls out, "Sir?"

             When Slughorn tells him to continue, Harry awkwardly mentions, "I haven't got a book or scales or anything— nor's Ron— we didn't realize we'd be able to do the NEWT, you see—"

             Spencer begins skimming through the book which she has gone over during summer. Although, she does take in the information about what every potion ends up doing, there is something not right with the instructions in how to do them. Now that she thinks about it, perhaps it would have been smart if she had Daniel run through it with her. Professor Snape never made them read the book and instead would put up the instructions himself, often saying rather horrid things about the book. She has to assume this is the very same, right?

             After giving Harry and Ron their potion supplies, Slughorn returns to saying, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at. These are the kind of things you ought to be able to make after completing your NEWTs. You ought to have heard them, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone can tell me what this one is?"

             He indicates the cauldron nearest their table and she notices plain water boiling away inside. Veritaserum. Right when Spencer raises her hand, Hermione already had been called on. Slowly, she places it down and glances at the other three. The smell she first had been hit with comes from the third one; a smell only revealing that of what you love or find yourself attracted to. The second one— as Hermione answers once more— turns out to be Polyjuice Potion. And the last, Spencer can only guess it is Felix Felicis.

             "Now, this one... well, my dear, you haven't even let Spencer take a chance," Slughorn chuckles light-heartedly, motioning to the Ravenclaw who keeps battling whether or not to even try and raise her hand. Spencer, having realized that the rest of the students are staring at her, raises an eyebrow and straightens her position. "Would you like to tell us...?"

             "Oh," Spencer clears her throat, having been overwhelmed by the attractiveness of the smell. "It's Amortentia, the most powerful love potion there is. You can recognize it by the steam rising and most specifically the smell— all different for one's own accord of who or what they find attractive and love," she answers surely.

             Slughorn nods his head with enthusiasm. "Yes! Oh, the stories I've heard from Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick don't disappoint, my dear. Now, would you mind sharing what you happen to smell?"

             No, Spencer thinks to herself. "I suppose..." she says instead. The young Montague has already denied him many answers, might as well just speak of this one. No matter how embarrassing it seems to be. She takes a quick sniff once more and finds her cheek slightly turning into a light pink-tint. "I smell chocolates, the scent of books, and..." Spencer still does not know where the last one came from, "... and peppermint and rosemary?"

             The Potions professor gives her a nod of acceptance. "Very good!" He turns toward Hermione in curiosity and tells her, "You know your potions as well, young lady. What's your name again?"

             When the two begin conversing, Ricky leans toward and stammers out, "Love potion?"

             She nods back at him and informs, "Only creates some sort of obsession than anything. The smell is just what we either love or find attractive. Like the smell of chocolates come from you— but it's platonic love, don't get me wrong."

             "Oh, that explains the smell of books," Ricky nods in realization. "I thought you bought a new perfume or something."

             Spencer glares at him and drawls out, "Funny."

             He stays quiet for only a few seconds before returning back to his posture and then admitting, "I saw Morgana this morning during our break."

             "What?" Spencer has never turn her head around back to him as quickly like this. "Why didn't you say anything?"

             "I just saw her, not talked. Plus, ruining your happy morning with that sort of news? I couldn't do that," Ricky waves off easily. Spencer, however, does not find any comfort in them. She wonders what she would do if she spots Morgana— or the other way around. "Can't we have Daniel hex her—"

             Spencer places her hand on his lips, giving him a sharp look in turn. She begins noticing that the two are talking almost normally now and now that she's realizing it, the Slytherins are right next to her. Most specifically, Blaise Zabini. If anything it looks like they're in the same team if it weren't for the small gap in between them. Based on his blank expression but curious eyes, the Slytherin has began paying attention toward the last few bits of their conversation and not anything about the potion. Wouldn't it be better if he heard that and not the next part?

             "And now it is time to work," Slughorn claps his hands, making everyone pay attention.

             A fellow Hufflepuff friend of hers, Ernie MacMillan, raises his hand and then points out, "You haven't told us what's in this one." His finger is quite literally pointing at a small black cauldron that is standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion is splashing merrily and Spencer knows she is right when she assumes it is the Felix Felicis.

             "It's liquid luck," Hermione answers after Slughorn asks her another question. Instead of focusing on the lesson she rather knows about, she begins making her own pair of notes deciding that even if Slughorn doesn't require for them to do so, it is best to keep her routine. She leaves a page for each potion mentioned in the parchment papers, even adding a short image of how it looked like with its descriptions in the side.

             Spencer flips through her own book and begins glancing at the ingredients for the first potion written down. The Draught of Living Death. They're almost similar to science experiments that she's read about in a few books— like those of famous muggles. Over the years, she has began seeing them just as that and compared Snape's own instructions to those of the books. Not many differences in them, but there has definitely been a few short mishaps that has cause the book to not produce the right material or make others struggle in making it. For example, there's this thing about crushing beans or trying to cut them— crushing is easier and provides better liquid rather than cutting them based on numerous tries.

             "So," Slughorn continues, "how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making, just like Spencer here. We have a little over an hour left, which should give us 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. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

             With the smell of Amortentia still hitting her nose, she happily begins grabbing the supplies and focusing on the assignment. Spencer easily follows along the book and only stops in shortage as she notices that her potion has stayed a deep purple rather than the light shade of lilac. She glances back at the steps and notices something peculiar. To gain a lighter shade of purple, she'll need more liquid which meant... she looks back at the supplies she and Ricky grabbed for their own and then frowns. She just messed up with cutting the bean rather than crushing it and doing the alternative is harder with two smaller pieces. She raises her chin up curiously before spotting that Blaise has some extra sopophorous beans in a small tray.

             Despite the conflicting circumstances between them, Spencer bites back her pride and quietly taps his shoulder. He turns toward her, his face already in deep thought before realizing she has called him and so it turns blank. "Yes?" Blaise sighs, his eyes narrow deeply.

             "Can I have one of your extra beans? Please?" Spencer questions, sending Slughorn a sweet smile when he glances their way. The professor returns the smile and chuckles to himself upon noticing two of his favorites talking to one another. Blaise furrows his brows confusingly, perhaps having an indecisive battle in his own mind before shrugging his shoulders uncaringly.

             "Yeah, whatever," he answers roughly, letting his hand slightly touch hers as he passes it on. The same glare return to his face a few seconds later. "Don't let the fact that I'm extremely arrogant ruin your day. The beans don't take in personality," Blaise sneers.

             Spencer clutches into the bean but lets a frown grow on her lips. Was he acting like that because of what she said last time they truly talked? "Blaise, I'm—"

             "I don't want to hear it, Montague," he stops her from continuing and then turns his back. Though, before he does that, his nose seems to twitch in familiarness.

             Ouch.

             She frowns at his words before returning to her potion. With one of the knifes that she cut the other one, this time she crushes it in the side and nods in acceptance as a whole bunch of liquid comes out and turns the potion of hers into a lilac color. Spencer continues on with the instructions before getting stuck in one of them again. She isn't stirring it wrong— is she? The book says to continue stirring... but what if there is a different way? Maybe a pattern of some sort? Spencer does not get to figure out before class is over as Slughorn then exclaims, "Times... up!"

             The older man begins walking around the classroom sniffing or barely giving a glance. He turns excitedly toward the light lilac colors on hers and gives an approving nod— Spencer smiles in return. Truthfully, she does not care if she receives the liquid luck or not. Maybe if one day she desperately needs it then she'll make one of her own, but all she hopes for is to gain the right information. She hopes she will not have to go to Snape to learn about it. Thankfully, and for some odd reason, Harry has the perfect potion in the class.

             "The clear winner!" Slughorn cries to the dungeon. "Excellent, Harry! Good Lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are then— here you are! One bottle of Felix Felicis as promised, and use it well!"

             Spencer widens her eyes in surprise and drags Ricky toward Harry for some mere seconds. "How'd you do the stirs! There's a pattern, isn't there?"

             Harry appears taken back by her question before slowly nodding, glancing to see if anyone is staring at them before telling her, "Stir counterclockwise seven times and then one clockwise. Then repeat."

             She makes a small note inside her head before nodding in appreciation. "Thanks, Harry!"

             The two Ravenclaws passes by the Slytherins who head the opposite way, barely overhearing Blaise tell Draco, "Something in there smelled like pumpkin pie, man. I almost went to glare at Crabbe or Goyle before realizing they weren't there."

             Spencer and Ricky are long gone when then              Theodore quietly adds, "Smelled more like chocolates, actually."

             The blond Slytherin sends him an odd and unsure glance before giving a knowing look to Blaise. "And I reckon you've met someone with that smell, mate. Sure, you like pie, but it's not something you're attracted to."

             (Two absolutely brilliant wizards and yet not facing the obvious in their own thoughts and words— how completely astonishing).

▂✫⌒*･ﾟ

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
yeah, idiots. anyway, pumpkin
pie is mostly his way of saying
a mix of vanilla and cinnamon
but he hasn't realized that yet—

the urge i have to just publish the
battle of hogwarts is strong and idek
why im not even finished 😁 it's
crazy but im kinda proud of it so far
which is like odd?? idk

also, i don't want to finish writing this
story cause i love spencer too much 🥺
how do people say goodbye to their
characters???/?/?