Liquid Luck [Sirius Black]/editing

chapter 53

The house-elves here are so accommodating. I don't know why more students don't take advantage of the Kitchens. Sirius and I have been put in charge of working the Polyjuice Potion into some sort of baked good. This task, as it turns out, is not in the least bit difficult.

"Mitzy darling, please smuggle this into today's breakfast scones." Sirius charmingly instructs, passing the large cauldron over to the small house-elf. "Oh, and would you bring them out only once the hall's filled?"

Mitzy gazes up at him in amazement through her big eyes. "Anything for Master Sirius. Mitzy lives to serve the students of Hogwarts." She bows down to him so low that her nose is just about touching the cold stone floor. Sirius bows back out of respect for our small friend. "Does Mistress Chiara have any requests for breakfast?"

"That will be all, thank you."

I kneel down and envelop the creature in a careful hug. She gasps softly at the unexpected kindness but eventually returns the hug by wrapping her nimble arms around me. When I pull away I find Sirius smiling fondly at me.

"What?"

"Nothing." He hums. "You're just perfect is all."

"Shut up, you're perfect." I roll my eyes with a smile. We remain smiling at one another until I clear my throat, "Er, we should go."

He rubs at the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah let's go."

Once most of the school is settled into the Great Hall for breakfast, including the five of us, just as commanded Mitzy's famous chocolate-chip scones appear on the platters up and down each house's table. They're a real crowd pleaser which ensure loads of students and teachers to fall victim to our prank.

We each pick up a scone of our own and tap them against one another as if clinking champagne glasses in celebration. At the same time, we bring them to our mouths and happily eat up. It all happens slowly but soon people begin sprouting different features ranging from white beards to crooked noses to wrinkly faces.

Chaos is once again ensued. The feeling of being the mastermind behind these frenzies and spurts of uncontrollable laughter brings me so much serotonin. Yet as I glance around at my many Dumbledore friends, I frown down at my unchanged body in disappointment. "Bollocks!"

I look to Dumbledore-Remus. "Maybe there wasn't enough potion in your scone?" He suggests with a shrug.

I pick up another scone and scarf it down only to be left with the same end result. What the bloody hell? Dumbledore-McGonagall stalks towards me, booming, "Holland! A week's detention!"

I hardly even pay any mind to the detention as I am entirely focused on why the potion hasn't worked on only me.

After breakfast, I break away from my friends
to pay the real Dumbledore another visit. I mutter the password to the statue of the Gargoyle. I open his office door without even waiting to be invited in though he doesn't seem to mind as he waves me over to a seat.

"Hello again," He smiles pleasantly. "If you are here because of the hair situation you mustn't fret. It has in fact grown back even more luxuriously."

"I'm glad." I bob my head but I can't bring myself to smile.

"However?"

"However," I start hesitantly. "that is not why I'm here. Sir, I was just wondering...well, is it possible for potions not to work on certain individuals?"

"Anything is possible, Ms Holland." The air between us becomes thick with unasked questions. "Why do you look so miserable?"

"I suppose it isn't the answer I was hoping for." Just as I turn to leave, he stops me by calling out, "What makes you different makes you special. Don't forget that."