Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Pumpkin juice is a wonderful thing," Harry mused over breakfast one morning in the Great Hall. "I wonder why Muggles don't drink it much?"

"My family does," Hermione put in. "My parents always told me that it was good for my teeth, so they made sure I drank a lot of it."

The Dursleys certainly had never had pumpkin juice in the house. That was clearly not "normal" enough for them. Harry had drunk it all the time when he'd been over at Mrs. Figg's place, but then, she'd turned out to be a Squib, and not just another ordinary Muggle.

"My mum told me once that it was my real father's favorite drink," Dean Thomas added. "That's why she always gave it to me."

Harry frowned thoughtfully. Setting aside his half-eaten pancakes, he went over to where the Creevey brothers were sitting. "Hey, Colin, Dennis."

"Hello, Harry!" Colin said excitedly.

"Did you ever have pumpkin juice before you came to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah," Colin said. "Mum thought it was a little weird, but we loved it so she got it for us."

"Huh, cool," Harry said, wandering off leaving them looking a little confused.

"Are you going to finish your pancakes, mate?" Ron asked.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron wondered back in their common room. "You've been distracted all day."

"Muffliato," Harry muttered. "I have a suspicion, and I don't know if I want this to get out yet."

"That's a right useful spell," Ron said. "What did we ever do before we discovered it?"

"Mostly got our plans eavesdropped upon," Hermione said.

"What's on your mind, mate?" Ron asked.

"Pumpkin juice," Harry said, as if that explained everything.

"You thirsty?" Ron said. "We could call one of the house-elves to bring you something up."

Harry shook his head. "No, no. Pumpkin juice! This could be the key to everything!"

Ron looked at him as though he'd gone barmy. "What are you talking about?"

"All the Muggle-borns I talked to drank pumpkin juice when they were small," Harry said. "Pumpkin juice is the source of magic! It turned them into wizards and witches! How is it nobody ever noticed this before?"

"Wizards don't have an ounce of sense in them," Hermione said. "You're talking about people who firmly believe a baby defeated a Dark Lord. They don't really understand much about causation and correlation. That's an interesting observation, though we'd need more evidence to be certain of it. What about Squibs?"

Harry nodded. "I'll just get a detention so I can ask Mr. Filch about it."

"You know, you could do that without getting a detention..." Ron pointed out.

Harry blinked and stared at Ron. "You know, that never occurred to me."

"I wouldn't generally want to talk to Filch, but it beats trying to ask the purebloods about their Squib relatives," Ron said. "I think I have a cousin who's a Squib. The family doesn't talk about him much, and I have no idea whether he drinks pumpkin juice or not."

"I have an idea," Harry said. He canceled the privacy spell and ran off.

There was still plenty of time before curfew, so Harry went down to the kitchens. He tickled the pear on the painting and let himself in, and smiled at Dobby.

"Great Harry Potter!" Dobby said. "Is you be wanting a snack?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm getting a treat for Mr. Filch. What kind of biscuits does he like? And does he like pumpkin juice?"

"Oatmeal," Dobby replied. "And no, Filchy never drinks the pumpkin juice. He'll be liking milk, though! Great Harry Potter be wanting Dobby to deliver Filchy his snack?"

"Thanks, that'd be great, Dobby," Harry said, grinning. "Don't tell him it's from me."

"Hmm," Harry hmmed. "Should I be feeling more magically powerful? Ever since I made that discovery, I've been drinking pumpkin juice with every meal! I hope nobody has noticed."

"They aren't going to notice any difference," Ron said. "You were already drinking pumpkin juice with every meal."

"It could well be that the pumpkin juice merely builds the initial magical core of a child while they are developing," Hermione postulated. "Once that's set upon reaching the age of magical maturity, it may not develop further."

"Why doesn't pumpkin pie have the same effect?" Harry wondered. "Or any other pumpkin products? Do Muggles not eat enough of them to spark magic? Or does something about the cooking process dampen the magical effects?"

"What's so special about pumpkins?" Ron said.

"Well, they are associated with Halloween, which is considered a time of magical focus," Hermione said.

"Maybe there's a way to enhance the magical effects instead of dampening them," Harry said. "It could be that we need a stronger concentration of pumpkin juice. To concentrate it... hmm." He pulled out the Half-Blood Prince's Potions book and thumbed through it a bit thoughtfully. "Fermentation... distillation... Yes, this is exactly what we need to do!"

"What... is that?" Neville wondered, gaping at the contraption sitting in the middle of the floor.

"That, is a still," Harry said proudly.

Dean Thomas cleared his throat. "Not to complain or anything, but why is there a still in the sixth year Gryffindor boys' dorm?"

"Deadly," Seamus said. "Are you going to make poitín?"

The real reason, of course, was that Moaning Myrtle was annoying, the Room of Requirement didn't seem to work properly for this sort of project, and unoccupied classrooms were too far away to keep an eye on. Harry had been paranoid about the secret of the pumpkin juice getting out. It wouldn't do for any Slytherins to stumble upon their still.

"Just keep it quiet," Harry said. "I don't think we're supposed to be doing this. If anyone finds out and asks, we're doing a special project for Professor Slughorn."

"Can I have some when you're done?" Seamus asked.

"Yeah, sure, why not," Harry said. He figured if the other boys just thought they were making alcohol, they might not figure out the real reason why they were doing so.

"You know, Harry," Ron commented quietly after the other boys had left. "I'm sure someone has made booze from pumpkin juice before. People have tried to make booze from everything."

"Yeah, but I'm using special techniques detailed in the margins here!" Harry said, waving his Potions text. "It's bound to work out great."

Harry lay half-conscious on his bed, mumbling incoherently, as Dobby cleaned the vomit off the floor with house-elf magic.

"I suspect that the intoxication from the alcohol content is making it difficult to control your magic," Hermione mused.

"Or anything else, for that matter," Ron added.

"Of course, he might have just vomited up too much of it, too," Hermione added.

Seamus came up the stairs and into the dorm, saying, "Here, I've brought my mum's famous hangover cure."

Hermione sniffed at the glass and said, "That's just pumpkin juice."

"Well, yeah!" Seamus said. "Also, hair of the dog and all."

"I want my Snuffles back," Harry moaned.

"Yeah, mate, maybe you shouldn't mention dogs," Ron said.

"Oh," Seamus said. "Sorry." He left the glass of pumpkin juice behind and sheepishly left the dorm.

"So, Hermione, do we have a new plan?" Ron asked.

"Get Harry unintoxicated again," Hermione said with a sigh. "And then, I suppose, we'll need to figure something out. This obviously hasn't worked as planned."

"I don't get how you managed to brew a better potion than Hermione and get that Felix Felicis reward from Professor Slughorn," Ron said. "It's that ruddy book, isn't it?"

"I, for one, am quite happy to see Harry's improvement with Potions," Hermione said. "Now, do you have anymore ideas on where we went wrong with the pumpkin liquor?"

"I have an idea," Harry said. "What if we put Felix Felicis in the pumpkin liquor? The pumpkin magic would multiply the luck effect!"

"I... don't know if that's such a good idea, mate," Ron said.

"It's brilliant!" Harry argued.

With a little help from Hermione, Harry soon had a magically-shrunken keg of pumpkin liquor laced with Felix Felicis. Eager to try it out, although mindful of what had happened last time, Harry took a swig of the booze. Not enough that he'd be falling down drunk, but hopefully enough to activate the magic.

"Ooh, I feel all tingly," Harry said. "Oh, hey, guys! Let's head for the Room of Requirement!"

"What for?" Ron asked.

"Dunno! I just got a feeling." Without further ado, Harry practically skipped out of the dorm.

Ron glanced aside to Hermione and shrugged helplessly before following after Harry. As they were heading along the corridors, Harry turned a corner and an old, floppy hat appeared on his head. Harry grinned and paced three times in front of the door to the Room of Requirement and stepped inside. The room was full of all manner of junk collected over the ages, piled and stacked about with no order or reason in such a way that it would take forever to find anything in particular. Or just a lot of luck.

Harry removed the Sorting Hat from his head and pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out from it, just as he had when he'd fought the basilisk. No sooner was the sword in his hands that he tripped over some junk on the ground and went sprawling. The sword sliced through the air and came down upon a small jeweled crown with an unnatural CRACK, followed by a shrieking sound.

Hermione examined the piece of jewelry that had been destroyed as Ron went over to help his friend up. "Harry," she said. "I think you just mutilated the Diadem of Ravenclaw."

"Well, lucky I did, too," Harry said. "It was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Wow, this stuff really does work!"

"I'd say you just got lucky, but that is kind of the point," Ron said.

"There may be some consideration for that," Hermione mused aloud. "Intoxication lowers one's inhibitions and self-control, which may actually allow the Felix Felicis to guide one's actions more readily without one's own will getting in the way."

"I still think this whole scheme is just plain barmy," Ron said.

"Well, if it works...." Hermione said with a shrug.

"I am immortal!" Voldemort cried. "You cannot kill me!"

"Oh, you mean your Horcruxes?" Harry said casually. "I broke all those."

"Mainly by drunkenly stumbling into them," Ron added under his breath.

"And now, it's your turn, Lord Moldypants!" Harry said, pulling out the Sword of Gryffindor, which promptly slipped from his hand and decapitated Nagini. "Oops."

"Nooo!" Voldemort wailed. "My snake!"

Harry bent over to pick up the sword again, narrowly missing a curse flying over his head to strike a Death Eater behind him instead. He giggled as he spun around, and Ron and Hermione got well out of the way of the insane, drunken boy.

"What is this power I know not?" Voldemort said.

"Can't tell you," Harry replied. "If I did, you wouldn't know it not, now would you?"

"You're completely drunk, aren't you," Voldemort observed with a scoff. "Did I interrupt some party you were having so you could come to this battle?"

"If only the answer were that sensible," Ron muttered as Hermione put up a Shielding Charm to deflect another curse.

Harry laughed aloud, dropped the sword again, and fell over into a suit of armor, which tipped and clattered to the ground. The spear the suit was holding snagged against a tapestry, which fluttered to the floor. Behind it, a painting hung on the wall, and the man in the canvas turned around, put his hands to his face, and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Mrs. Norris zipped out from somewhere like a furry missile, running behind Voldemort's legs and causing him to trip and fall onto his back.

As Harry got to his feet again, a large stone block fell from somewhere above directly on top of Voldemort. He cocked his head and went over, poking the body with his sword a couple times.

"Hey, guys, I think we squished Voldemort," Harry said.

"Harry?" Remus said, appearing at the other end of the corridor. "How did you get here? You're lucky you haven't been killed!"

"Voldemort's dead," Harry said, indicating the corpse under the stone block. "Flat as a pancake."

"Very lucky indeed," Remus said.

"The Death Eaters are retreating," Hermione said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Exshellent," Harry slurred. "I wanna go talk to Dumbles. Tell him Hogwarts is safe. Britain is safe. Everybody's safe. Except poor Snuffles."

"Harry... are you drunk?" Remus wondered incredulously.

Harry tripped over Voldemort's arm. Remus reached out to steady him, but Harry raised a hand as he noticed something shiny had fallen from his pockets. Picking up the shard of glass, Harry murmured, "Sirius?"

An image of his godfather wearing sunglasses and a brightly colored shirt appeared in the piece of mirror. "Oh, hey there, Harry."

"Sirius?" Harry said, blinking. "Where are you?"

"Bermuda," Sirius replied.

"How in the world did you wind up in Bermuda?" Harry asked.

"I popped out of the Bermuda Triangle, I guess," Sirius said, shrugging noncommittally. "At least I don't have anyone trying to arrest me or suck out my soul here. How's things going over on that side of the pond?"

"Oh, I killed Voldemort," Harry said.

"Great!" Sirius said. "Oh, hey, my piña colada is here. Keep in touch, kid. And tell Remus I'm okay."

"I can hear you from here," Remus said.

"Oh, okay," Sirius said. "Remus! Go get laid."

"I have a son," Remus said.

"Wow, really?" Sirius said. "Here I expected you'd be bent for life. Well, anyway. Later!" The mirror fogged again.

Remus sighed. "Don't ask. I'm just glad he's alive."

Harry shoved the mirror shard back into his clothes and strode toward the Headmaster's office. "Chocolate Frog," he told the gargoyle without pausing, and headed up the staircase that opened up.

Remus looked aside to Ron and Hermione as they followed after him, and said, "Has he been drinking frequently?"

"You don't know the half of it," Ron said with a groan.

"We'll fill you in later," Hermione said.

"Hey, Dumbles, wake up!" Harry exclaimed.

Dumbledore's portrait blinked awake. "Harry, my boy. What has transpired?"

"Voldemort is dead," Harry said. "Like, dead-dead. Destroyed all his Horcruxes, dropped a hallway on him dead."

"It was just one block," Ron said.

"That's excellent news!" Dumbledore said. "I knew you could do it." He looked strangely at Harry. "But, weren't you one of his Horcruxes?"

"What? Nah," Harry said. "That's just silly. Tommy boy wouldn't have made me a Horcrux, and you can't make them by accident. Otherwise there'd be immortal wizards all over the place, and lots of random furniture would be Horcruxes."

"But, where else would you acquire Parseltongue?" Dumbledore said. "And your mental connection to him?"

"How many people have tried to talk to snakes as kids?" Harry said. "I bet lots of people could if they wanted to!"

"How did you accomplish all of this?" Dumbledore asked.

"I discovered the secret," Harry said.

"Which secret?"

"The secret of the pumpkin juice," Harry went on.

"I don't follow," Dumbledore's portrait said.

"The source of all magic!"

Dumbledore blinked and gave Harry another strange look. "Harry... Pumpkin juice is not the source of magic."

"That's what you think."