Two days. Two days until she turned seventeen. Two days until she was legally allowed to do what she wanted with everyone's silent, obediant concent. Hermione Granger could barely contain her excitement, bobbing up and down as she and her best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley watched her wearily. Ron had already turned seventeen the week before, and understood her eagerness entirely. Harry, however, was bitter. He still had another near eight months until his seventeenth birthday. He walked beside his friends, arms crossed tightly across his chest, and he glared severely at the ground.
"Hermione, I think you should calm down a bit, or Snape might hit you over the head with a book." Ron told her warningly, unconciously rubbing the back of his own head. "Trust me, it's not pleasent. Is it, Harry?" Harry grunted in reply, not even bothing to bring his eyes up to look at his friends.
Oh, I know...I just can't help it! I mean, Seventeen! It's exciting, isn't it?"
"Well, yes." Ron said carefully. "But not if there's violence involved with your uncanny hyped up behavior. Honestly, Hermione...you're frightening me a bit." Hermione laughed without humor, bounding down the dungeon stares ahead of Harry and Ron. Professor Severus Snape, their potions teacher, was waiting for the class outside. He leaned lazily on the closed calssroom door. His stance was much like Harry's, though his lean figure was tall and lanky, and instead of untidy black hair, his black hair hung long and loose, greasy, aound his narrow face.
"Good morning, Professor!" Hermione said cheerfully, reaching into her bag to pull out her book. Snape looked bewildered, having not been confronted by this particular student in quite some time. He quarked an eyebrow and stared blankly at her.
"Miss Granger." He mumbled in response, and moved aside to allow the rest of class in.
Hermione was already seated when Harry and Ron took their seats on opposite sides of her. "Two days, seventeen!" Ron sang softly. Snape had flinched visibly when he saw who Ron was talking to. The trio saw this full-bodied jerk and looked at him questioningly. He sneered at them and turned on his heel, moving to stand where the entire class could see him. Hermione opened her book lithely, already knowing which subject they were to be studying. Snape cocked his eyebrow in her direction again.
"Turn to page four-hundred-and-sixty-nine." He said in a bored tone, leaning on his desk and resuming the position he once help outside of at the door. Hermione glanced up at him impatiently. "Not everyone is quite as quick as you are, Miss Granger. You'll either have to dumb yourself to their level or aquire a certain level of patience. Now, sleeping droughts. I am quite aware that we have studied this subject in your second year, but their are different types of droughts with different effects. And every one of them has a cure. All but one, but that's a bit too advanced, I think--Yes Miss Granger..." He sighed, nodding lazily in her direction.
"The drought of the living dead, sir?" She suggested. Snape leered at her.
"Did I not just say, Miss Granger, that it was a bit too advanced." He didn't asked, he stated. He drew himself up to his full height and loomed over the trio. "As I was saying, prior to your Einstein episode, Miss Granger. The drought of the living dead, though it is an extremely simple potion to brew, it has no known cure." He stepped back again and looked over the entire class, his tiny black eyes glistening. "Starting today, we will begin brewing the cure to the potion on this page, as they take time and plenty of effort. They will need to be checked daily. At the end of the week, they should be done, and you will brew the sleeping drought itself, and test them and the cures out on your classmates." There were several gasps and groans around the room, and they were silenced with one look from the potions master. He glanced up at the clock, waited until each hand was lined up perfectly, and said "Begin." Hermione was the first to her feet and across the room before the clock hands even had time to un-aline. She looked at the book in her one arm and used her free hand to gather the ingrediants listed on the page. She skipped carefully back to her table and placed her supplies neatly infront of her couldron. Ron walked by her, glancing over her shoulder.
"Do you have an obsessive compulsive dissorder?" he asked, dumping his own supplies on the table.
"No." Hermione said sourly. "I just prefer my work to turn out right. Maybe you should consider the idea." Ron scowled at her, but lined the ingrediants up, never the less.
Within an hour, both Ron's and Hermione's potions had reached the vibrant blue that was pictured in their books. Harry's was blue, but more of an ocean blue than the neon that his friends' were. He sighed, and tore his eyes from their perfect couldrons to look at his own.
"What exactly did you do wrong, Potter?" Snape asked, suddenly before him, staring confusedly at the deep blue liquid that was quickly turning into a solid. Harry grimaced and shrugged.
"I've no idea, sir." He mumbled.
"I'm sorry, Potter, did I hear you say that you didn't boil the bezoar before adding the other ingrediants?" Harry cringed and gritted his teeth. "Potter? I believe I asked you a queston."
No, sir. I didn't boil the bezoar before adding everything else." He sighed. Snape sneered at him.
"Had you followed the directions completely, Potter, your potion may look like Miss Granger's and...well, well, well, Mr. Weasley, I must admit that I am shocked. Or it may not have, Potter. It's hard to tell." Harry scowled and began packing his things up.
8
Hermione woke on the morning of her birthday, grinning as though she had just won the lottery. She glanced at her watch and sighed happily. Eight-thirty on a saturday morning. Jumping up, she made her bed quickly and threw on a pair of jeans that she would soon have to be rid of because they were in danger of ripping, and a faded 'Beatles' T-shirt. She yanked a brush through her hair and rushed down to the bathroom to brush her teeth and pull her bushy brown hair back into a messy bun. She grinned at her reflection breifly and flew out of the bathroom and headed to the great hall.
"Miss Granger!" A deep, kind voice called after her. She stopped and turned around to face their headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. She smiled into his old face, but he didn't smile back. The grin slipped quickly from her face.
"Has something happened?" She asked, wondering if her perfect day had been ruined. Dumbledore shook his head slowly.
"No, but you will need to come with me. There is something we need to discuss." She nodded and followed him. They walked quickly, and students passing by looked at her questioningly. She kept her eyes straight. Soon enough, they came to the statue entrance to Dumbledore's office. He murmured 'Blood Pop' and waved one graceful hand; the statue hopped aside, and a staircase was revealed. They walked up, one behind the other, and Dumbledore opened the door to his office. When the door swung opened, Hermione gasped.