Hi, guys! I'm sorry I've left you for so long, but I have been really busy with school. The great news is that I've been accepted into the Sixth Form (kind of like a college, I suppose – I don't know if the USA has an equivalent) at my school, so I'm now looking forward to that.

The bad news is that I'm running out of ideas with this particular Fic, so after two more characters and their subsequent memory chapters, that will be it, I'm afraid.

I will still be around the site, writing other pieces, so if you ever want to talk, feel free. I might branch out, as well - as most of my friends know, I'm obsessed with the films of a certain director, so that's probably the direction I'll head in. I'm also really getting into the Hunger Games – I'm buying Mockingjay tomorrow and I'm going to see the film on Sunday (I can't wait!).

I hope I haven't bored you too much with personal details of my life, so...enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 10

Caught Red Handed

The Writer flicked over the page of her book, feeling immensely pleased with herself. Snatching people and forcing them into revealing their deepest darkest secrets actually put quite a bit of money in the bank. Snape would get his share for bringing them, of course, but there was a reasonable amount left over.

The moment she thought this, there came a tap at the window. Sighing heavily, she put down the book with a dull thud and sauntered over. Snape's owl was there, a note gripped in its beak.

"Writer,

My next volunteer should be on her way very soon. She believes she is receiving ingredients for my Potions class, as well as a number of books.

Be warned, she may seem an awful know-it-all, but is also extremely capable of handling herself. Do not relax your guard and be very convincing in your lie.

Severus"

"Know-it-all? It sounds horrible, but I don't even have to think about whom that could be..." the Writer muttered to herself.

Sure enough, within five minutes, there came a knock on the door. The Writer opened it, to find Hermione Granger stood outside, a large bag slung over her shoulder.

"Ah, you must be the student Professor Snape sent for the books and ingredients," the Writer smiled, backing away from the door, "do come in."

"Thank you..." Hermione stepped inside, eyes darting as she inspected the office, "I won't be too long. I must get back. Today, we're mixing solutions to create a potent Fever Cure Potion, first attempted by Druids in the late-"

"Awfully hot outside today, isn't it?" the Writer made conversation and interrupted clear across her voice, as I walked to the shelves containing all my potions, scraping a few together and placing them in a small wooden box on a lower shelf.

Snape needed it to be convincing – it looked like the Writer was giving her the potions, what I was actually doing was simply cleaning up.

"Terribly," Hermione replied, still wandering around the room, a little disappointed in the Writer's lack of interest in the Druids.

"Tell you what," the Writer began, "it's hot outside and you have a long journey back, so why don't you rest a few moments?"

Hermione took the seat in front of the Writer's desk. The Writer poured a glass of lemonade and Veritaserum, placing it on the desk in front of her.

"Here you are. I know the lift outside is broken and it can be hell having to climb those stairs."

"Oh, thank you..." Hermione sipped it quietly, tasting it. She stood up to move around the room, inspecting some old books, still sipping the lemonade.

"I've only ever read articles on this study...theories as to the origins of..."

Then it dawned on her. But by that time, it was far too late. She blurted out her secret.

"I love to steal!"

The Writer gasped. Hermione Granger, the purest, most saintly goody-two-shoes the world may have ever seen, love to steal?

"This...changes things, quite a bit," the Writer giggled, taking out her wand and preparing to point it at Hermione.

She looked up at the young witch and her face turned into a deep scowl.

"Oh, for goodness sake – put that down!" the Writer snapped.

Hermione had been attempting to stuff a couple of books into her bag, as well as the Writer's video camera.

"Sorry, I can't help it sometimes."

"Maybe this will solve it," the Writer pulled out her wand, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Hermione's limbs snapped together before she could even defend herself. The Writer emptied her bag of her ill-gotten goods and took the memory for good measure. She dragged Hermione outside, leaving her in the reception, down several flights of stairs.

By the time the Writer had done all that and made it back upstairs, she was hot, tired and a little angry that she almost had her stuff stolen.

"I need to cheer myself up a bit," she told herself, switching on her computer, "this next chapter should do perfectly..."