Riddles.

Chapter V

Riddles.

Author's Note:

Thanks so much to everyone who has enjoyed this fanfiction, I am sad to say that this will be the last instalment, of course I may always come back to it, but first I need to get in the right frame of mind (a fleeting moment once in a blue moon). I just found this unfinished chapter on my computer, courtesy of @GinnyMeropeMalfoy so I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Still not my universe.

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Chapter V

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making." An unsung sigh rippled through the room. The bored faces of young witches and wizards must have been common to the potions master; his expression changed not despite the swell of sullen faces.

Hermione, however, was already scribbling down notes with a vigor. Despite the extense of the books locked away in her mind, she was not a witch to turn away the advice of one of the most renowned potions experts in wizarding Britain.

"However, for those select few, who can ... possess, the predisposition ... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." Hermione's head snapped up at that, noticing Luna's head turn towards her slightly, finally ceasing to stare in fascination at Snape. Hermione knew enough about death to realise how far the professor's knowledge of potions must have reached.

"Potter!" Even Luna tore her curious gaze away from Hermione to look upon the two boys sat at the front of the class, whom appeared to have been caught talking in huhshed tones by a now irritated Snape. The momentary lapse in his introduction came to an end as the professor took more of an interest in the cause of the interruption.

"Then again," his voice resounded through damp bricks, leaving a pause so tense a blunt knife could have cut through it with ease, "maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough ... to not. Pay. Attention." Harry's gulp was visible from the farthest corners of the room. Ron's face had grown even more red than usual.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Our new ... celebrity." Somehow he seemed to make the word an insult, a loathsome thing to be. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Silence. Hermione and Luna rolled their eyes in tandem. "You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

It was Luna's fairy voice that drifted towards Hermione rather than Harry's, her dulcet tones a soft whisper; "The stomach of a goat really is an interesting place, isn't it?" The witch responded with a muffled laugh (hidden behind her hands so as to nnot draw any unwanted attention).

Calmming herself, Hermione turned back to Snape - who was now proceeding to tell Harry that "clearly fame isn't everything". Well, this ought to be an enjoyable lesson. Hermione's grin broadened excessively at the thought.

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Hermione and Luna gathered their various textbooks using the charm they'd 'learnt' in Flickwick's class. The bell signalling the end of potions had sounded, and all around them were Slytherins and Gryffindors frantically stuffing bits of parchment into ... well, Merlin knows where: eager to escape the dull atmosphere; although the Slytherins had the decency (and the common sense) to make their attempts slightly less obvious.

Snape had already assigned them homework, so the only word said was a (seemingly disappointed) "dismissed," the witched and wizards filing out of the room in a haste.

Luna and Hermione were sandwiched between the 'Golden Duo' - a name used by students and teachers alike - and Draco Malfoy, the latter of which no longer staring daggers at their backs. Instead his eyes seemed fixed on the pair in front of them, an air of determination forming around him.

"Potter!" He called, Hermione and Luna falling behind Draco and his goons to witness the exchange. "It seems you've met one of the Weaselbees." The sneer that formed on Draco's mouth as soon as he even mentioned one of the Weasley's made Ron's rapidly-approaching scowl deepen. It was like watching two dogs bark at each other from a distance: all bark and no balls. The thought made Hermione chuckle, earning a slight quizzical look from the fairy stood beside her. "You'll soon," Draco paused - sneer twisting into an expression even more condescending, "that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter." Another pause. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." His eyes cast down to Ron, their disgusted expressions almost identical. Draco's hand reached out to Harry's stiffly, "I can help you there."

Hermione rolled her eyes, noticing Luna masking a snicker when she saw Harry's hand move no further towards Draco's. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." His clear-cut voice was heard like a shriek by the students now gathered around the group in a loose semi-circle (including Luna and Hermione).

The latter of which muttered an unintelligable "Oh, for goodness sake!" under her breath before raising her voice to the chorus of murmuring in front of her.

"I guess that means no mudbloods like me, then, Potter." The boy's head snapped round and his eyes settled on her with a slight coldness now familiar to the girl. "Oh, haven't you heard?" She spoke, sauntering silently closer to Draco, a faint smirk tilting her lips. "Me and Drakey here have been inseparable ever since the sorting. Thick as thieves." Hermione paused to cock her head at the Gryffindor, not missing Draco's flinch when she moved towards him. So I guess that's make me the 'wrong sort,' as you so kindly put it."

The girl barely gave Harry time to stutter out his denial, instead pulling Draco by the sleeve, intending to lead him and his goons back to the dungeons. Luna smirked and skipped to the front of Hermione's entourage of Slytherins, letting the whispers trail after them down the hall.

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The rest of the walk was silent, Draco wrenching his arm away from Hermione's stone grip the moment they rounded the corner. The witch gave him a glare in response, linking her other arm with Luna's instead.

Crabbe and Goyle stumbled behind them nervously, and Pansy's ears were practically smoking with rage. All three, however, remained silent until they found a secluded section of the castle.

Hermione and Luna went from dazed strolls and painted faces to sneering snares and iron grips in mere moments. The witch went for Draco and the fairy went for Pansy. Hermione would later admit that Draco's gasp was as much hilarious as it was empowering to her. Presently, however, Hermione was too consumed by smirking at the pain-stricken face clouding Pansy's features when Luna pulled at her hair and pinned her to the wall, her wand digging painfully into Pansy's stomach.

The hushed 'tarantallegra' that escaped Hermione's smirk infested lips rendered the two buffoons behind her more useless than before; their legs dancing wildy every which way until finally buckling, their bodies thumping soundly onto cool stone. She cocked her head slightly as she regarded Draco's stunned expression. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised those two were so easily defeated. Disappointed, perhaps. I haven't had a decent fight in so very long."

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Author's Note:

Thanks, and goodbye.