The three of them kept their voices low as they waited for the first stage of the potion to finish brewing. Julian spoke a bit about his situation, explaining his amnesia and how he genuinely did not care whether he was technically muggleborn or not, which was why he had chosen not to take any bloodline test at Gringotts.
"You are not even a little curious?" Tracey asked, clearly baffled. "For all you know, you could be Merlin's long lost descendant or something."
Julian shrugged. "Where is the fun in having everything handed to you because of your bloodline?" he said. "I would rather earn it all by my own effort and become the next Merlin instead."
"Oh? That is a rather lofty goal, do you not think?" Daphne asked, sounding more relaxed around him now.
"Not really," Julian replied with an easy smile. "I have the rest of my life to get there, so I have plenty of time, unless something takes me out early."
They drifted into more personal topics after that, and Julian listened closely as Daphne talked about her family's curse: the blood malediction cast on the Greengrass line four hundred years ago, which they had been searching for a cure to ever since.
That immediately brought the "ancient section" of the library to mind.
If the curse had been cast four centuries ago, there was a very good chance that records or related research on it existed in a thousand year old library. For all Julian knew, the witch or wizard who first used the spell had found it here in Hogwarts.
If it comes down to it, I can always make her a ring that purges corrupt magic from the body, he thought. Hopefully I will have the skill for that by Christmas.
He kept up the conversation on the surface, nodding and responding while those plans formed silently in the back of his mind.
Tracey, for her part, explained that her family was in the awkward position of being sworn to serve the Greengrass family. Because of that obligation, she and Daphne had grown up together and become best friends. She did not seem bitter about it. To her, it had never really felt like a burden, just part of how her life was arranged.
Their talk had to pause when Julian noticed a subtle shift in the color of their potion. The shade had lightened just enough to signal that it was time to move to the next step.
"All right, back to work," he murmured, reaching for the next ingredient.
They added four horned slugs to the mixture, letting them dissolve into the brew. Julian gave the potion a single hard stir to blend everything evenly, then carefully removed the cauldron from the fire.
Next came the porcupine quills. He added them one at a time, leaving a two second gap between each drop. The dark blue liquid slowly lightened with each addition.
He then stirred the potion five times counterclockwise, watching as the color shifted a little more with each rotation until, at the end of the fifth stir, it settled into a clear, uniform blue.
Julian raised his wand again and traced a sealing motion over the surface. Pink smoke puffed out of the cauldron, curling upward in a thin, fragrant trail. It was the textbook indicator of a properly brewed Cure for Boils.
Snape noticed at once. He had been keeping a discreet eye on their table ever since Julian had shown promise at the start of the lesson.
Daphne and Tracey stiffened when they saw the professor heading their way. Their shoulders tensed, clearly bracing for criticism, or worse. Instead, Snape bent forward slightly and inhaled the rising smoke.
A faint, almost impossible ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"An acceptable potion," he said. "Five points to Gryffindor, and five to Slytherin."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving their table in stunned silence.
Every other student in the room stared at them. Not only had their group finished first, but Snape had actually awarded Gryffindor points, which might as well have been a minor miracle.
Hermione looked like she was about to combust, cheeks flushed in a mix of jealousy and determination. She urged Harry and Ron to hurry through the remaining steps, clearly furious that someone had beaten her to the punch.
Neville, unlike in the original story, did not make the mistake of leaving his potion on the fire while adding the porcupine quills. With guidance and preparation, he managed to produce a brew that was just barely above the passing line. It was not pretty, but it would work.
Eventually, the class wound down. Those who had failed to produce a passing potion were assigned an essay on the Cure for Boils as homework. Those who had succeeded were allowed to keep a single bottle of their own brew.
The rest of the acceptable potions were collected by Snape, poured together into larger containers, and set aside to be sent up to the hospital wing as reserve stock. It was actually a clever system. The students learned through practice, and the school quietly built up a supply of cures for the pimple jinxes and minor hexes that inevitably cropped up during the year.
After Potions, the whole group had Herbology until eleven, which was followed by lunch, and then another Herbology session from one to two. After that, a long free period stretched out until dinner, which, like all meals at Hogwarts, was optional.
Julian had barely stepped out of the Potions classroom with Daphne and Tracey at his sides when trouble arrived in the form of Ron, Harry, and, rather unexpectedly, Hermione, who technically was not supposed to be glued to their group yet.
"How can you sit with these bloody snakes?" Ron demanded, face flushed with anger as he jabbed a finger toward Daphne and Tracey.