The Potions Master

Chapter 2

ELVES

"Harry, tell me how you fought the dragon. I want to hear every detail."

Harry laid his copy of Magic in the Far East on his favorite Gryffindor common room desk, then turned to face Colin Creevey's wide-eyed, expectant stare. "Uh, I didn't exactly--"

"Draco Malfoy's going around telling people you were--" Colin gulped "--too scared to do anything. But don't worry. Nobody believes him."

"Well, I was kind of--but not too." Harry shifted his weight. "I didn't really have time to--"

Out the corner of his eye, he caught Hermione looking up from calculating star movements and petting her scruffy ginger tomcat, Crookshanks. In an annoyed tone, she said, "Colin, it was a dragon. Harry was up on its neck when it came alive. One minute it was marble. The next it was a big, ferocious, fire-breathing dragon. I would have fallen off and been smashed. Harry had the presence of mind to--"

"Cast a spell on it?" Colin finished hopefully.

Harry hung his head. "Actually, it was Professor Dumbledore who--"

Across the room, Harry could see Ron listening. Abruptly, his friend abandoned his chess game with Dean Thomas, preparation for the House Spirit Week Tournament in January, and strolled toward them. A white bishop lifted his miter to scratch his bald spot, and three black pawns began sparring.

Ron clapped an arm around Colin's shoulders. "Let me put it another way. It was a d-r-a-g-o-n. Dumbledore was on the ground and able to pull his wand out. Harry was getting whipped about thirty feet in the air. It's not that Harry was scared--"

"Maybe I was a little--"

"He was too busy hanging on. Get the picture?"

Colin nodded. Harry saw that his former biggest fan got the picture only too well. "Glad you're all right," Colin managed, then slipped off to the far side of the room to disillusion his younger brother.

Ron sighed. He raised an index finger to Dean, Just a minute. Exasperated, the black queen began tapping her foot. With a playful punch to Harry's shoulder, Ron said, "Some of us were relieved to find out you're human."

Harry frowned at his best friend. "Did I ever give you the impression I didn't think I was?"

Ron shook his head, but Harry could tell he was biting back a grin. "I don't know one chap who boasts less than you do, but we all know that's because you don't have to."

Hermione was watching Harry with concern. "If for once someone had to rescue you, that's no reason to feel bad."

"I don't feel bad," Harry shot back, then grimaced at his disgruntled tone. Did he feel bad not being the hero? "I'm just wondering what made the dragon change in the first place."

Ron cocked his head. "Didn't everybody decide Dumbledore accidentally broke some enchantment?"

Harry glanced at the dozen Gryffindors scattered around the room, then dropped his voice. "I heard a snap."

Ron looked perplexed, but Hermione leaned forward.

"A snap? That means stone transfigured into a dragon. Accidental magic couldn't do that."

Harry heard excitement in Hermione's voice. Ron's eyes were lighting up as well. "Later," Harry whispered.

Ron winked. Harry noticed a spring in his step as he returned to his chess problem. When Hermione cast her gaze once more over her celestial computations, a smile quivered on her lips. Even Crookshanks began to purr. No doubt about it, Harry thought. Adventure is calling.

As he settled down to work, the notion crossed his mind that perhaps he should take his questions to Dumbledore. But surely discussing them first with his friends wouldn't be out of line. With that thought, he tackled the essay questions Professor Binns had assigned on magical developments during the Yuan Dynasty. He felt more like himself than he had since morning.

***

After Harry finished relating his story, Ron took exactly five seconds to say, "Snape. He's always had it in for Harry."

"Now wait a minute," Hermione said. "It's a far cry from being snippy in class to trying to kill him."

Ron shrugged. "Maybe Snape wanted to scare Harry to show him up--like Sirius Black tried to do to him when he lured him under the Whomping Willow."

Where Snape would have found the mild-mannered Remus Lupin transformed into a werewolf, Harry finished to himself. But of course, he was positive his godfather had never wanted to actually hurt his nosy classmate--just make him shriek. The amazing transforming statue was another matter. If not for Dumbledore, the dragon would have killed him for sure.

Hermione shook her head. "Professor Snape is no schoolboy. He can show Harry up just by taking points from Gryffindor. Why risk a scandal?"

"I agree," Harry said. "If he did, his motive would have to be something stronger." He stared at the embers glowing on the hearth. Inside him smoldered all the insults, all the humiliations, all the injustices Snape had ever made him suffer. Time after time, the professor had managed to clear himself of suspicion. Yet in his heart, Harry was certain the man was a villain. Yes, Dumbledore trusted him, but Dumbledore had been wrong before. He'd trusted Quirrell, hadn't he? Taking a deep breath, Harry began, "Volde--"

Looking shocked, Hermione waved her hands to shush him. Crookshanks leapt from her lap and scooted into the shadows. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must hate Professor Snape as much as he hates you. You told us the professor spied against him. And our first year at Hogwarts, he protected you against You-Know-Who."

"Because You-Know-Who had no power." Harry cleared his throat. He felt silly not calling Voldemort by his name. "Now that he seems to be on the rise, Snape might want to return to his good graces."

"He's loyal to Professor Dumbledore."

"So he says," Ron said darkly.

Hermione stood and walked to the hearth. She reached into the wood box and flung a handful of chips onto the dying fire. "Time and again you've been wrong, yet you keep on suspecting him. "

"Because Snape keeps on doing suspicious things." Harry adjusted his black-framed glasses squarely on his nose. "I was there. The statue transfigured the moment Professor Dumbledore applied cleaning potion--the cleaning potion prepared by Snape."

"Aha!" Hermione strode back to him. "You and Filch used that potion for hours without making the dragon come alive."

"Granted." Harry had mulled over this point since tossing aside Professor Dane's licorice. "Some additional factor was involved--the angle of the sun, the spot where the solution was applied, the number of times we'd applied it. The spell included a trigger to keep the trap from springing too early. But the fact remains, I heard the snap the instant Dumbledore touched the sponge to the marble."

"You've got to admit, it's suspicious." Ron gestured toward the fireplace. "And where there's smoke--"

"Maybe. But not necessarily."

"Granted again." Harry sighed. "I wish we could try Veritaserum. That would settle the question." He recalled the year before, how Snape's truth potion had forced Barty Crouch to reveal everything he'd done for Voldemort, including murder his own father. Using truth potion on Snape would be a just irony. "But if we did, it wouldn't matter if we found him innocent. When he came to his senses and realized what we'd done, he'd kill us."

Leaning her chin in her hand, Hermione gazed at the flickering fire. "If he realized it."

Despite the shadows, Harry could see a bemused look on Hermione's face that said she was about to favor them with just the arcane magical tidbit they needed.

"Professor Snape would never sit still for a memory spell," she began, "but sneaking him a memory-altering potion--"

"Yes?" Ron prompted.

"--would be completely unethical."

Groaning, Ron ran a hand through his thatch of red hair.

Hermione gave him one of her headmistress stares. "They have a deleterious effect on the mental processes. You were listening during Defense Against the Dark Arts, weren't you?"

Reluctantly, Harry and Ron nodded.

"Mind you, this is only theoretical . . . . If one started with a light sleep potion, followed it with a truth potion, and ended with a dream potion, with luck the subject would believe the whole experience had been a dream."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Great idea, old chum. Just one problem." He smiled sweetly at Hermione. "How do you get him to drink Veritaserum after you've put him to sleep?"

"One doesn't. One combines all three potions into a sequential time-release formula that the subject has to drink only once."

"Time release? Like cold capsules?" Harry remembered seeing the 12-hour Muggle medicines advertised on television. "That might work: drowsiness, truthfulness, then pleasant dreams."

"Not pleasant dreams," Hermione said. "Not necessarily. What you'd want would be interesting dreams--ones that fill the sleeper's mind, obscure any inkling he'd been questioned. Everyone is different, of course. One person's interesting dream would be another's dull one--and another's nightmare."

"So," Ron said, "you have to make a completely different dream potion, depending on the vict--uh--subject?"

"Actually, only one ingredient is different--a spoonful of skin shed by an animal of the genus phantasmagoria. If someone were going to make a dream potion for Professor Snape--and I'm not saying I would--the best choice would be . . ." her voice trailed off as her eyes narrowed thoughtfully ". . . Bandersnatch."

"Bandersnatch? Frumious bandersnatch? Like in the poem?" Harry had sneaked Dudley's copy of the Alice stories into his cupboard during one particularly long banishment. His cousin, partial to comic books without much dialogue, had never missed it.

Hermione nodded. "You probably used to think hippogriffs and unicorns were imaginary. I know I did. Would you be surprised to learn that Lewis Carroll's poem is a mnemonic device for remembering the creatures used in dream potions?"

Harry grinned. "I've long since stopped being surprised by anything I learn at Hogwarts."

"The beasts in the first part are for mild-mannered people. Neville, for example, might be happiest with a mome rath dream. Our professor would need more challenge. Of the beasts in the adventurers' part, the bandersnatch is the sly one--a Slytherin's cup of tea."

"What would you say I am?" Harry asked.

"Jabberwock, definitely."

"And me?" Ron tensed as if bracing for disappointment.

Hermione shot him a quick glance. "Oh, jabberwock, too, of course."

Ron sat up straighter. "So, is shed bandersnatch skin available by owl postal order? I don't recall seeing it for sale in Hogsmeade."

"By special license only--and a good thing too. Think of the potential for misuse! The Ministry of Magic decreed that the resources to make dream potions belong in the hands of only certified Potions masters."

Harry smiled at Ron. "That means Snape would have some for sure."

Hermione raised a hand palm out. "I am not sneaking into Professor Snape's office again."

"I wouldn't dream of asking." Harry settled back contentedly. "I have another agent in mind, one who's been begging to do me a favor."

Ron frowned. "It better not be my little sister."

"Good grief, no." Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks. "This person has dipped into Snape's private stores before without getting caught. He can come and go at will. Nobody would ever suspect him."

"Come on," Ron said. "You're taking as long to get to the point as Hermione."

She glared at him.

"I mean Dobby." An instant after Harry said the name, his mouth fell open. Across the common room, the little elf himself stood quivering in the shadows, looking as if he'd been waiting anxiously for hours. Harry could have sworn Dobby hadn't been there before.

"I thought you told me nobody can Apparate inside Hogwarts," Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Nobody human," she answered weakly.

"What have you heard?" Harry asked.

"Enough, sir!" Dobby broke into a wide grin at being noticed. "Harry Potter needs help! Whatever you need, sir, Dobby is your elf!"

"Well, we need a spoonful of shed bandersnatch, uh--" Harry gulped. His little friend was now barreling toward him at top speed. An instant before the elf would have rammed affectionately into his stomach, Harry caught him by the shoulders.

Dobby beamed up at him with wide, tennis-ball eyes. "What else, sir? What else? Anything Harry Potter lacks, Dobby can find!"

"No," Hermione said. "It'd be too risky. If you were caught, you'd lose your position. You know the only way you could get employment elsewhere would be to give up your freedom."

"Sorry, Dobby. She thinks the job too difficult--" Ron glanced sidelong at Hermione "--for an elf."

Harry felt Dobby's shoulders droop.

"Too difficult for anyone," Hermione said irritably. "I don't see you volunteering. You know that even if you managed to not get expelled, it'd ruin your chances to become a prefect."

Ron folded his arms. "As if I want to follow in Brother Percy's footsteps."

"And Brother Bill's. You know you do."

Harry saw Dobby dart his glance between Ron and Hermione like someone watching Quaffles at a Quidditch match.

Harry released Dobby and stepped back to look at him. "If we planned it right, there'd be no way Snape would catch Dobby in the act. And if he discovers afterwards that his stores have been skimmed, he'd most likely suspect me."

"As if that makes it all right. Remember how Professor Snape threatened to give you Veritaserum last year over missing potion ingredients? It's too risky. I'm not helping you make Somnoleveritaphantasmagoria Powder, and that's final."

"Oh, Hermione," Ron muttered, "don't be such a Muggle."

Harry grimaced, realizing Ron's error even before Hermione jumped to her feet. When she did, she whirled to glare at both of them.

"For your information, Mr. Pureblood Weasley, my mother, my father, all four of my grandparents, all of my aunts, all of my uncles, and all of my cousins are Muggles. I would thank you not to use that word as an insult."

Hermione stomped over to her worktable to gather her books. Dobby hurried after her. Standing on tiptoe, he helped roll up her parchments. Soon, she was weighed down with study material for three core subjects, six electives, an independent study section, and an unknown number of personal interests.

Again she cast an angry look over her shoulder. "And furthermore, the polite term is magically challenged." With that, she marched off to the staircase to the girls' dormitory. Her ginger cat strutted after her, both his squashed nose and his crooked tail raised primly in the air.

Dobby hung his head, clearly dejected at having his services rejected. A moment later, Harry realized he'd vanished.

Harry scowled at Ron. "Nice going."

***

By Monday's session of Advanced Potions, Harry had appealed to Hermione so many times that he could say the mouthful of a potion without stuttering. "The Somnoleveritaphantasmagoria Powder is your idea, Hermione. Ron and I can't think of a better one. Nothing else will settle the question. Won't you please help us make it?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes darting meaningfully toward the Potions master's office door. As the professor swept into the dungeon, Harry sealed his lips. Snape's black eyes scanned the class, hunting for truants. Finding everyone present, he looked disappointed--until he focused on Harry. When the professor smiled, Harry's mouth went dry.

"Ah, our resident celebrity. Nothing pleases me more than a tale of bravery and quick wits. Tell the class, Potter, just how was it you vanquished the dragon and saved Hogwarts?"

Draco Malfoy and his buddies exploded into chortles, sniggers, and guffaws. Wilhelm Avery smirked. Harry tensed every muscle in his body to keep from squirming in embarrassment or jumping over his desk to slam his fist into Snape's sneering face.

Then a barely audible whisper made the ridicule worthwhile: "I'll help you make the potion."

***

A week later, they'd arranged everything. Hermione had researched the necessary ingredients for Somnoleveritaphantasmagoria Powder and determined that three were obtainable only by passing the four-day examination for Certified Public Concoctionist or sneaking into Snape's office.

Ron glanced down at the list as Dobby read it. "Hey, there're four things here."

Dobby craned his head back to look up at Ron. "That's right, sir. Sphinx piss and candori root are for truth powder. Bandersnatch skin flakes are for dream powder and--"

Hermione hurried over and retrieved her scrap of parchment. "You've obviously memorized it. Time to get going. Ron, Harry, and I have to be in class before you start--in case we need to distract the professor from going into his office."

Harry noted a flush on Hermione's cheeks, then shrugged. She was always nervous when they ventured outside the rules. Turning to wish Dobby luck, he found the elf was gone.

"I'd like to learn to do that," Ron said.

***

Poking his head into Snape's dungeon, Harry surveyed the dank walls lined with jars of unidentifiable pickled animals and the rough flagstone floor stained with countless generations of students' failed potions. Between classes, the rows of acid-riddled stools and desks were deserted, but a rotten egg smell still hung in the air.

Quickly, he stepped back and motioned Hermione and Ron up the stairs. "We're early," he whispered. He wanted to add, Snape would find that suspicious, but before leaving Gryffindor they'd agreed to keep their conversation discreet. Who knew what magical listening devices the old Slytherin might have secreted around his lair?

When they were halfway up the flight of stairs, the three friends stopped and fidgeted with their cauldrons. Finally, Hermione asked, "How's your chess coming along? You'll have stiff competition in the tournament."

Ron shrugged. "I'm not quite as prepared as you are for the academic pentathlon, but I'm working on it. Last Saturday, I beat Katie seven times in a row. Her side got so bloodied, I might have to buy her a whole new set of white pieces."

Harry thought of how animated and individual wizard chessmen looked. Repeatedly, Ron had assured him they only seemed real, but Harry hated to think of them as injured and replaced. Hermione obviously accepted that they weren't actually alive. Otherwise, she'd be niggling them to join a wizard chess piece liberation movement.

Instead, she said, "I wish Hogwarts had electricity. I've got a chess program on my computer at home that might be more of a challenge."

Ron looked interested. "I've seen pictures of computers, but I can't imagine how they play games. I know Muggle chess pieces don't move by themselves." He frowned. "Do you need a special computer? One with hands?"

Hermione gave Harry a look that said, You explain it to him.

Over Hermione's shoulder, Harry noticed Wilhelm Avery sauntering down the stairs with a couple of other Slytherins. Son of the Death Eater Harry had watched Voldemort torment with a cruciatus curse the year before, Wilhelm had previously attended Durmstrang. His father had transferred him after Karkaroff disappeared and the Hungarian Ministry of Magic appointed a new headmaster with no whiff of dark wizardry about him. Harry supposed that Avery senior had thought classes with Snape would be the next best thing.

Catching Harry's eye, Wilhelm gave him a smirk that showed he'd heard Ron's question. Instead of zinging out his own gibe, he nudged Draco. Obligingly, the little pain-in-the-rear strutted down the steps toward them.

"Yeah, Weasley, and you need ones with feet to run all the errands your mama has to do because your family doesn't have a house elf."

Harry gripped Ron's shoulder. "Come on." More classmates came trooping down the stairs. Neville clutched his books and parchments tightly to his chest as he edged along the wall to avoid the Slytherins. Wilhelm purposefully bumped him on his way to whisper something into Draco's ear.

When Ron turned away, Harry was grateful. After four years of being taunted, his friend had grown too mature to respond to Slytherin half-witticisms.

Then Draco flung out one more. "And for all those times your mama gets bored with your dad, there's a super-special computer with everything she needs."

Ron went rigid. Then he growled. Dropping her cauldron, Hermione threw her arms around him. Harry wasn't sure whether to help her hold Ron back or have a go at Draco himself.

"Weasley!" The menacing whisper cut through the crowd of pupils piling up on the steps.

Ron trembled under Harry's hand. Then he sucked in a sharp breath. In an admirably calm voice, he answered, "Present."

Relaxing, Hermione retrieved her cauldron. Harry looked down the stairs to see Snape filling his doorway. The shrewd black eyes regarded them coolly--calculating the potential to dock points from Gryffindor. With a scowl, the Slytherin retreated to his dungeon.

Ron leaned close to Harry's ear. "Did you see Snape's hair? He's discovered a fantastic new potion. It's called shampoo."

Suppressing a grin, Harry joined the jostle of students. As he and Ron passed, Crabbe made an obscene gesture. They ignored him and threaded their way to their desks. Harry wrinkled his nose against the sulfurous reek. He knew he'd get used to it in a minute.

Under Snape's chilly gaze, the class assembled quietly and quickly. After their first Double Potions session four years before, the professor had never again taken roll. He knew everyone's name, he knew each house, and he knew how to discipline a lame excuse. So far this year, nobody had skipped.

"Today's topic is liberating potions," Snape began in his silky soft voice, "potions that unlock, unravel, unfetter, disencumber, or transform. Like memory potions, their purpose is to alter the workings of the mind."

As usual, Hermione rushed her quill across her parchment, anxiously keeping pace with Snape's words. In Advanced Potions, Harry always listened attentively, but he saved his note taking for tricks of the trade, obscure references, and the occasional threat. Clearly, cauldrons were not going to be his life's work. His main concern was passing.

When Snape glowered at him, Harry resisted the urge to feign writing. If irritated, the professor was more likely to hover around harassing them during the second half of the session when he'd have them brew their own. To ensure Dobby time to find all the Somnoleveritaphantasmagoria ingredients, they had to keep Snape out of his office.

"The mind is a castle," the Potions master resumed, "with more halls and chambers, towers and dungeons, staircases and passages, twists and turns than Hogwarts. When the soul is liberated, it constantly builds and explores. When a soul is damaged, it retreats to a familiar cranny, bars the doors, nails up barriers, and blocks out the light."

Out the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville abruptly stop his frantic scribbling. Glancing sidelong, he saw concentration on his fellow Gryffindor's face sufficient to record Snape's words more fully than his pen ever could. In a flash, Harry knew why. Liberating potions. Neville was wondering whether such a thing could break down the madness that kept his parents in an asylum.

"As with all potions that influence thoughts, mere ingestion is not sufficient. A skilled practitioner is required to lead the subject through the mind's traps and mazes. For a liberating potion to achieve its purpose, a gentle guide is necessary."

Harry sighed. A gentle guide. So much for Snape helping Neville's mom and dad.

At an unexpected noise from the back of the room, Snape looked up. When the professor's face didn't twist into a scowl, Harry knew the odd sound hadn't come from a student. Glancing back, he saw Professor Dane. Again he heard a muffled cry, but obviously not from her. As usual, her smile was sunny. Her golden hair shone like a halo in the gloom of Snape's dungeon.

"Am I late, or am I early?"

"Your timing will do," Snape responded curtly.

Facing front, Harry saw the Potions master hold up a beaker brimming with a pearlescent substance. "As part of the headmaster's efforts to harmonize the branches of magic, Professor Dane has come to demonstrate the liberating powers of Elixir Autarky--a libation from the swamps of--"

"Mississippi," Dane offered in her pleasant, lilting voice.

"Quite. I have concocted it to her specifications. She has promised to bring a subject to see if it works."

Snape performed a sarcastic little bow and swept from his lectern toward his office door.

"Oh, no," Ron breathed.

Harry darted him a chagrined look. Some luck. They'd picked the one class of the year Snape was turning over to another teacher. Since they hadn't begun mixing potions, their cauldrons were empty. What distraction could they create?

Once more, sobbing drifted from the back of the room. Snape stopped to stare. Swiveling, Harry saw Professor Dane strolling between the desks, leading a child by the hand. No, not a child. Winky.

As professor and elf passed, Wilhelm sneered and Draco snickered. Beside Harry, Hermione whispered, "Brilliant."

"You didn't tell me your subject wasn't human." As usual, Snape's soft voice could be heard across the room.

Turning, Dane smiled. "Elf or human, the principle is the same." She gave Winky's head a comforting pat. "She just needs a smaller amount."

Instead of opening his office door, Snape pressed his back against it. Silently, Harry cheered. The Potions master's curiosity about whether his mixture would work on an elf had won over his disdain for his fellow professor.

"Winky," Professor Dane began gently. "I explained the purpose of this elixir to you and what we hope it might accomplish. Do you still consent to participate in this experiment?"

Blankly, Winky stared around the room, clasping her thin arms across her chest. With consternation, Harry saw she was wearing the same skirt and blouse as when he'd first seen her at Hogwarts--over a year ago--except now, their blue color was barely recognizable through the food and filth that soiled them. Her unkempt hat sat crumpled on her head, precariously held in place by her tall, pointed ears. When at last the elf answered, it was in a barely perceptible squeak: "If you is wanting me to."

Dane bowed low to meet the elf eye-to-eye. "Who are you?" she asked in her friendly drawl.

"Winky."

"What are you?"

"A house elf."

Dane paused. "Why are you?"

"Winky lives to serve the Crouches. Mr. Barty. Mrs. Barty. Master Barty. The Crouches is needing Winky!" Suddenly the elf wailed. "But they is gone! They is all gone!"

"The Crouches are gone. Winky is here."

"Winky is nowhere. There is no why to Winky."

The elf buried her face in the professor's black robes. She abandoned herself to weeping so tragic, Harry felt pity swell his heart. After so long in the haven of Hogwarts, how could she still be mourning? He fought an urge to jump up and hug her. Then she let out a screech that set his teeth on edge.

Slowly, Professor Dane straightened, all the while patting Winky on the back. Gazing around the room, she asked, "Does anyone know the meaning of autarky?"

Not Harry. Glancing at Hermione, he saw her raise her hand. When no one else did, she dropped it. Four years of classmates' dirty looks had taught her the unpopularity of being a know-it-all. Too bad. Harry was just mouthing, "Go ahead," when Snape answered.

"Autarky. Independence, self-governance, self-sufficiency. In short, the antithesis of the house elf."

A belly laugh rumbled out of Goyle, though his befuddled expression said he hadn't understood half the words. At Snape's icy glare, he seemed to choke. In a low voice, the professor murmured, "A point from Slytherin."

Harry's jaw dropped.

Smiling, Dane lifted the beaker Snape had left on the lectern. "The very antithesis. And that's why we call this magic." She lowered the elixir to Winky's mouth. "Mind you, just a sip now."

Winky stuck her bright red tongue into the pearly goo. Her grimace said it tasted horrid. Obediently, she leaned forward for a quick gulp. In a split second, her head wobbled. She'd fallen asleep on her feet.

Professor Dane set the beaker down and drew her wand from her robes. With a graceful swish, she inscribed a circle of shadow around Winky's bowed head. The professor drew a deep breath that lifted her shoulders and began chanting in a voice lower and more resonant than Harry had heard her use before.

"Alone, deserted, Winky stands in a ring. Alone, deserted, a part of no thing."

Glancing sidelong, Harry saw Snape gazing intently at witch and elf.

Professor Dane continued. "Winky was good. She did what she should. Winky stayed true. She has the right to pursue--" Flourishing her wand, Dane showered the elf with silver sparks that infused the circle with light. Again her voice rang out, "Happiness!"

Winky trembled. Harry felt a cheerful quiver deep inside him. In softer tones, the professor led the elf into a singsong exchange. With each round, the circle grew brighter. Instead of rotten eggs, the scent of orange blossoms drifted through the air.

"Who was good?"

"Winky was good."

"Who forsook Winky?"

"Mr. Barty forsook Winky."

"Who did what she should?"

"Winky did what she should."

"Who was bad?"

"Master Barty was bad."

"Who stayed true?"

"Winky stayed true." Whimpering, the elf hung her head.

Quietly, Dane said, "Leaving nowhere, opening your eyes to somewhere, can be hard. Will you give up one heartache, only to find another? If you love again, will you be betrayed?"

Tears dribbled from under Winky's lashes. The circle of light dimmed.

"Winky must bind herself to her own house. And it's a grander, a lighter, an airier house than any she's ever seen. This house will never kick her out. This house is hers forever--the house of Winky."

"The house of Winky?" the elf repeated doubtfully.

"Yes'm. With this house behind her, Winky can range far and wide. Nothing can daunt Winky."

"Even an elf . . . has the right to pursue . . . happiness?"

"Yes'm, indeed."

Listening to Ariel Dane, Harry felt blissful expectations welling up inside him. Golden light filled the dungeon, and the walls sparkled. The air smelled of a spring garden opening under the sun. He sensed great joy just around the corner. Anything was possible.

Eager to share his exhilaration, Harry glanced at Ron and found him grinning. On his other side, Hermione held her hands over her mouth, struggling to contain herself. Harry darted wondering looks all around the room and found his classmates doing the same. When he met Draco's eyes, the Slytherin almost smiled. Wilhelm alone kept a bored sneer. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle giggled uncontrollably.

Apart from everyone, Snape stood stiff as a statue. What little color he possessed had drained from his narrow cheeks. Only his eyes looked alive. Instead of cold, they seemed filled with a dark turbulence.

Professor Dane twirled her wand around Winky's head, sheathing her from head to toe in a rainbow of light. The elf rose on tiptoes as high as she could. Then she shimmied. The rainbow cylinder shattered, glittered, then vanished.

Opening her eyes, Winky squealed, "Even an elf has the right to pursue happiness!"

Hermione burst into applause. All around the dungeon, schoolmates joined her. Even some of the Slytherins nodded their approval. Professor Snape whirled away, yanked open his office door, and slammed it behind him.

Frowning, Harry glanced at Professor Dane. As he watched her smile fade, a knot of resentment formed in his stomach. They'd all just witnessed a wonderful thing. How typical of Snape to act superior to it. His crassness knew no bounds.

Dane exhaled slowly, then quickly returned her attention to the elf. "What's the purpose of your life?"

Winky blinked her enormous round eyes as if she'd never seen the world before. "Pursuing happiness."

"And how're you going to do that?"

Winky jumped up and down, tittering and clapping her hands. "By being the bestest, busiest, workingest house elf Headmaster Dumbledore has ever seen!"

Hermione groaned. Glancing at her, Harry saw her shake her head, then pick up her quill as Professor Dane began listing points to remember about liberating potions.

"Elixir Autarky is a particularly tricky one," she added. "We were lucky to have a Potions master of Professor Snape's skill and precision to concoct it."

Snape didn't hear her compliment. He remained absent for the rest of the session.

As they left the dungeon, Harry noticed that almost everyone retained at least a faint smile of good will. Then Wilhelm elbowed him aside on his way up the steps.

Ron shrugged, then smiled at Hermione. "What did you think of class? Now that's what I call House Elf Liberation."

She pursed her lips. "Maybe. I don't know. I wonder what Dobby will say."

Dobby. Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He'd forgotten all about their trusty agent. When Snape burst into his office, had the little elf already completed his mission? They had to wait until midnight to find out.