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Amoris Infinitas by Persephone Lupin [Reviews - 2]

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Chapter 8: Rose and Silver


There it was indeed, in black ink on yellow parchment in Snape’s tiny letters, impossible to explain away. The spell that was needed to activate the altered Amortentia Potion could only be performed with success if somebody gave their life for Harry.

“Knew there must be some catch to the story, that’s just like Snape,” murmured Ron, staring at the parchment.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “But I won’t do it. We’ll just forget about the whole thing. There’s no way I’ll let anybody sacrifice themselves again. End of story.” He started to rip up the parchment.

“Harry, wait!” Hermione said in alarm. “Don’t do that. Think. We are in a war. Many people die. And if there is a major attack on the Order, people are bound to die. We have no possible way of knowing what is going to happen, but wouldn’t it be better to have the potion ready, just in case?” As an afterthought she added, “After all, Dumbledore wanted you to have Snape’s book. He must have known about the Potion and how it works; he might even have developed that spell, not Snape.”

“Dumbledore would have known I would never agree to this,” Harry said stubbornly.

“Yes,” said Hermione, a smile playing around one corner of her mouth. “And that’s why he was glad you have me.”


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The Amortentia Potion was extremely difficult to brew, even with the Prince’s additions. No wonder it wasn’t commonly used. Without his ‘extra training’ in Potions, Harry would never ever have thought it possible for him to get it right. But now, he was pretty confident and almost thrilled at the prospect of trying such an advanced draught.

After he had finally agreed to prepare it, he and Hermione had gone through the recipe to figure out how it was best done, and where the traps and pitfalls were. Together they had searched through the potions cabinets to find the necessary equipment and ingredients. All the rarer and more precious ingredients were still kept in Snape’s private, now Ministry-sealed stores, but with Dobby’s help, it had not been much of a problem to obtain everything they needed.

The first day, Harry had prepared the basic solution from dried and finely ground Belladonna berries, the extract of violet petals, and dissolved pixie wings, spiked with one tablespoon of dark, molten chocolate, one of the Prince’s ingenious additions. The next day, after twenty-four hours of simmering, more ingredients went in: Veela hair, several teaspoons of mashed dragon heart, pieces of frozen Ashwinder eggs, and a variety of flowers and dried herbs. The temperature schedule had been quite tricky, with a sequence of careful heating, subsequent cooling, and re-heating, but at the end, the Potion had been the perfect colour of a clear summer sky, exactly as described in the recipe. On the third day, special attention had been required, since the ingredients he had had to add were highly volatile. However, thanks to the Prince’s tips, he had mastered the task without a single accident.

Now, as the fourth day of brewing was drawing to a close, he was anxiously adding the last touches to the Potion, carefully stirring in the mixture of ground unicorn horn and powdered mother-of-pearl. Only two more stirs ... one more ... now slowly add three strands of his hair ... stir three times anti-clockwise ... wait for exactly thirteen seconds, and then ... blow lightly on the surface ... With a sigh of relief, Harry saw the Potion turn a mesmerising shade of rose with a distinct mother-of-pearl sheen. Pastel fumes began to rise from the cauldron in characteristic spirals, and a bewitching fragrance, simultaneously reminding him of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle and a certain flower from the Weasley’s garden, tickled his nose. He was breathing slowly and deeply, and a great contentment stole over him. He grinned to himself; Slughorn would have been ecstatic with praise. With the sleeve of his robes, he wiped his sticky brow, careful not to spoil the potion with a carelessly falling drop of sweat, and, humming a random tune, started the tedious task of clearing the workbenches and cleansing his equipment. The potion would have to cool down and then settle for at least another twenty-four hours before he could proceed with the final step, the instructions on the parchment.


*****************************************


Exactly twenty-four hours later, Harry stood in front of his cauldron again, eager to start. If anybody had ever predicted that he would spend hours and days on end in the potions lab and enjoy it, he would have rolled on the floor, laughing his a- off. However, it was true. He did enjoy himself. So much so that he had hardly been able to wait for the potion to settle. It was still rose-coloured and seemed to literally ooze magic.

Harry re-kindled the fire underneath the cauldron and let the potion simmer lightly. Then he leaned over the cauldron and concentrated. Hard. As hard as he possibly could.

Images appeared before his mind’s eye. His Mum and Dad on Hagrid’s moving pictures, laughing and waving at him. Mum and Dad in the Mirror of Erised, their smiling eyes overflowing with love. Slowly, almost in trance, he raised his wand to one temple and extracted a thin, silvery strand that stretched between his hairline and the tip of his wand like a spider’s thread glittering with early morning dew.

Carefully, he let it glide into the caldron with the simmering Amortentia, stirred seven times clockwise, then concentrated again. Hermione bent over a large old book in the library, Ron cheering and laughing on his broomstick after the match against Slytherin. Sirius hugging him in a bear-like embrace, his eyes full of mischief. Albus Dumbledore winking at him, his crystal-blue eyes twinkling. And Ginny. Ginny, her red hair blazing in the sun like fiery threads of copper. Her freckled face. The curving of her soft, slightly-opened mouth, her loving arms around his neck ... For the seventh time, his wand rose to his temple as if of its own will ... Seven memories of the seven people he loved ... The last seven stirs ... Intricate silver patterns formed on the rose surface, spiralling and merging and disappearing as the potion turned the colour of molten opals. It was almost done.


Harry reached for the little silver knife that was waiting on the work table. A quick cut to his left index finger, and three drops of blood fell into the cauldron. The potion began to sizzle as the scarlet blotches sank into its surface. It welled up, emitting soft pastel fumes and the faint smell of violets. Holding his breath, Harry stared at the cauldron. Please let it work, please let it work, he repeated over and over in his head, like a mantra. After exactly seven minutes, the potion settled. It was the deep colour of red wine. Harry closed his eyes in relief, exhaling with a heart-felt sigh. He had done it, actually done it. The altered Amortentia Potion was ready, and it looked perfect.



TBC

Amoris Infinitas by Persephone Lupin [Reviews - 2]

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