Percy Jackson and the Locket of Salazar [Book 6]

18) People Just Write Curse Words on Textbooks at My School ):

Harry continued to be strangely adept at Potions, adding a little flourish to his potion that definitely was not what the books said. I'd read the books, and while they were certainly good, they were a bit lacking in some departments.

"And time's... up!" Slughorn called. "Stop stirring, please!" Slughorn moved between tables, peering into the cauldrons. He looked pleased with Draco's, and Hermione's, too, but he paused when he saw Harry's, whose was the palest of the class, a feat he would normally never achieve. His face lit up with delight. "The clear winner! Excellent, 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 Félix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Harry pocketed the vial, his face seemingly unable to decide what expression to settle on.

"How did you do that?" Ron whispered to Harry as we left.

"Got lucky, I suppose," Harry said back, within earshot of the Slytherins, who were all scowling — with the exception of Draco, who looked just as baffled as I was.

He told us the truth when we sat down to eat, explaining how the book he'd gotten from Slughorn had been written on by another student — and that student clearly knew what they were doing.

"I s'pose you think I cheated?" Harry looked sourly at Hermione.

"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" Hermione crossed her arms petulantly.

"You followed directions, too, 'Mione, that wasn't your own work, either," I said, piling food into my plate.

"Could've been a catastrophe, though, couldn't it?" Ron said. "But he took a risk and it paid off. Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written in. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but —"

"Hang on," a familiar voice butted in. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?" Ginny looked pissed.

"It's nothing," Harry said quickly. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled in."

"But you're doing what it says?"

"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny —"

"Ginny's got a point," Hermione perked up instantly, though, if I'm being completely honest, she really didn't. A sentient diary is not the same as a textbook some student wrote notes in. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all those funny instructions, who knows?" Much to Harry's indignation, she pulled the book from his bag, and tapped her wand against it. "Specialis revelio!"

Nothing happened.

"Finished?" Harry snapped. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few back flips?"

"It seems all right." Hermione stared at the book cautiously. "I mean, it really does seem to be... just a textbook."

"Good. Then I'll have it back." Harry snatched it off the table, but accidentally dropped it between where we were sitting. I bent down to pick it up for him, and saw, in cramped, familiar handwriting: This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.

I raised my eyebrows as I handed it to Harry, who must've seen the same words. He shook his head minutely at me, and I shrugged it off.

I recognized the handwriting immediately. I spent too much time with the man not to. Severus Snape used to own that textbook.

I muttered to Harry, "Whatever you do, man, just follow the potions instructions. If there's anything else in there... remember, teenagers are weird."

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