Blaise watched him go, then tipped back his own helping of felix felicis.  Impossible to buy, even with all the money in the world.  So few people knew how to brew it, it was one of those rare things you could only get with your own skill and your own time.  It stung for a moment, then seemed to evaporate and leave a wake of honey and summer in its wake.  He wanted more at once. You could get drunk just on that burn and that sweetness, but he also could feel the night tingling under his skin and he wanted to jump up and own all of it.  The world could be his again, if only for a handful of hours.  He felt alive.  His steps seemed to spring under him, and he grabbed his broom. He'd loved flying once, and something told him this would be a good night to race through the air again.