HERMIONE

The Potions classroom was, strangely, already filled with peculiar smells and colourful vapours. As she sat down at a table with Harry, Ron, and Percy, Hermione breathed in deeply; the gold cauldron at their table was emitting the most wonderful scents. She smelled old books and parchment and her mum's old perfume — and one other thing that she couldn't quite identify. It was Amortentia for certain, characterised by the distinctive curling silver spirals wafting from its surface, as well as its pearly metallic sheen.

Hermione looked around the room eagerly — there was Veritaserum, colourless and odourless, seeming deceptively like plain water — Polyjuice near the Ravenclaw table, murky and slowly bubbling — and was that — it couldn't be, and the professor was beginning to speak. She sat up straighter, ready to listen… hopefully Professor Slughorn would be far from as biased as Snape.

"Now then, now then, now then," he said, "scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copy of Advanced Potion Making —"

"Sir?" said Harry, and Hermione nearly facepalmed; she really had to talk to him about interrupting professors.

"Harry, m'boy?" said Professor Slughorn, beaming at who seemed to already be his favourite student.

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything — nor's Ron — we didn't realise we were qualified for the N.E.W.T until Professor McGonagall told us —"

"Ah, yes, I did hear… not to worry, m'boy, not to worry at all. You can use the store cupboard for today, and we can lend you some scales, and here's a stack of old books you can borrow until you're able to write to Flourish and Blotts…" the professor strode over to a cupboard and rummaged around for a while, before turning around and handing Harry and Ron each a tattered textbook and a set of tarnished scales.

"Now then," he said, returning to the front of the room, and Hermione straightened further — good posture was imperative in good first impressions. Hopefully he would ask the names of the potions around the room, she'd identified most of them already.

"I've prepared a few potions for you here, the kinds of things you'll be able to brew after a year in this N.E.W.T. course… I don't expect you to have them down now, obviously, but you ought to be able to identify them. Anyone tell me what this is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table, and Hermione's well-practised hand shot up into the air almost before thinking. Veritaserum, Veritaserum, Veritaserum.

Professor Slughorn pointed at her, and she took a breath before spilling the information; "It's Veritaserum, sir, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth." She was tempted to spout the fascinating history of its usages, but caught herself in time.

"Very good, very good!" said the professor happily, and pointed to the Polyjuice. "Now, can anyone tell me what this is? This one might be more well known, it's been featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately… who can?"

Hermione threw her hand in the air once more. "It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she told him, and this time she did not go into any detail at all for fear of accidentally revealing that she had (illegally) brewed it herself once before.

"Excellent, excellent… now, this one here — yes, my dear?" Professor Slughorn pointed at her again, expression now slightly bemused.

"It's Amortentia!" This one Hermione might have been the most excited about.

He nodded, eyebrows soaring. "It is indeed. It seems almost pointless to ask, but I assume you know what it does?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world!"

"Quite right; you recognised it, I believe, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," added Hermione. "And it's supposed to smell differently according to what attracts us. I smell —" she whiffed the air again — "freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and —" suddenly she stopped and reddened, for she had just identified the last scent.

Hermione smelled apple cider, and something musty but cosy and reminiscent of home; much to her dismay, it was the smell of Ron Weasley.

She was tempted to be silent for the rest of the lesson in mortification, but Professor Slughorn ignored her embarrassment. "May I ask your name, my dear?"

"Hermione Granger, sir," she said, quieter than usual. Her cheeks felt aflame, and she hoped desperately no one noticed.

"Oho — Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

Hermione shrunk down slightly in her seat. "No, I don't think so, sir. You see, I'm muggleborn."

She heard Malfoy whisper a remark to Nott and both of them snickered; if possible, her face flushed further.

The professor's grin did not dim. "Oho!" he said again. "'One of my best friends is muggleborn, and she's the best in our year...' I'm assuming this is the friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, and Hermione beamed, all humiliation forgotten. Her heart had risen like a muggle balloon, and seeing Malfoy's dismayed expression only inflated it further.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Professor Slughorn.

"Did you really tell him I'm the best in our year?" asked Hermione in a hushed voice, turning to Harry with a shining expression. "Oh, Harry!"

"What's so impressive about that?" asked Ron, looking slightly disgruntled. "Everyone knows you're the best in our year, I could've told him so too."

Hermione smiled at him, too, but raised a finger to her lips in a signal to be quiet; she couldn't hear what the professor was saying. Percy, however, snickered at them for some reason, before turning his attention to Professor Slughorn.

Suddenly her eyes narrowed; Percy was, once again, fiddling with his pen. Unlike Ron, she did not think he had stolen it back. She had seen him all throughout Potions and then right after during break — there would have been no time for him to sneak back in, unless he did while she was in Arithmancy, but it didn't seem like he had. And it wasn't a different pen, either; Hermione recognised its strange rune-like writing on the plastic that she had happened to notice before.

It was strange, and the transfer himself was strange, but the professor was speaking and she pushed it to the back of her mind to address later.

"Amortentia does not really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply create a powerful obsession or infatuation. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes. When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love."

The last sentence seemed directed at Malfoy and Nott, who were smirking sceptically. "And now," Professor Slughorn continued, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir? You haven't told us what that one is, yet," pointed out Percy, nodding towards a small black cauldron on Professor Slughorn's desk.

"Ah, yes," said the professor, smiling, and Hermione realised he had left it out on purpose, waiting for someone to ask about it for dramatic effect. If it was what she thought it was, that made sense… but surely not. Still, the bright gold colour and the merry bubbling and splashing — "That, ladies and gentlemen, is a curious potion called Felix Felicis." Hermione could not help but let out a gasp. "I take it you know what it does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," she said breathlessly, excitedly — "It makes you lucky!"

The entire class seemed to sit up a little straighter, and even Malfoy began paying attention.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor." Hermione smiled. "Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," Professor Slughorn continued, "Desperately tricky to get right, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this one has been, you will find success in all your endeavors… at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, then, sir?" asked Terry Boot eagerly, and Hermione frowned at his cluelessness.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous over-confindence. Too much of a good thing, you know… highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally…"

Hermione held her breath. It seemed as if the professor had actually used the potion himself, something almost unbelievable. It was so very rare…

The rest of the class seemed to be thinking similarly, because Michael Corner asked, "Have you ever taken it yourself, sir?"

"Twice in my life," Professor Slughorn said, and Hermione listened with rapt attention, making sure not to miss a single word. It was not every day that one could listen to someone who had actually taken the Luck Potion. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days." He gazed into the distance, a dreamy smile on his face.

Seeming to suddenly come back into reality, he added, "And that is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

The silence seemed to intensify, and Hermione sucked in a breath. She glanced at Malfoy out of the corner of her eye; he was listening intently, a glint in his eye that did not bode well should he win the Felix Felicis. She would have to win the potion. If not to use it herself (although the idea was tempting), then to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," continued Professor Slughorn, taking a small bottle filled with the golden substance from his pocket and holding it up. "Enough for twelve hour's luck. From dawn until dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt. Now, I must warn you that there are restrictions and regulations about this potion; its use is banned in organised events and competitions such as sporting events, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only… and watch that ordinary day become extraordinary!"

His tone became brisk. "So how are you to win this fabulous prize, you ask? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We will be attempting to brew the Draught of Living Death in the time left to us, which is little over an hour. This is more complex than anything any of you have attempted before, and I am therefore not expecting a perfect potion from anybody — but the closest shall win little Felix here. Now, off you go! Hurry, hurry!"

There was the magnified sound of turning of pages; a great number of heavy metal scraping as people pulled their cauldrons toward them; a few clunks as some added weights to their scales. There was no speaking, except for Percy muttering, "Drat, I'm dead, I'm dead."

"Blimey," whispered Ron with disgust, "Looks like someone vomited on mine. How am I supposed to make anything good with this textbook?"

Hermione ignored him. She had flipped to page ten already; the instructions were detailed and complex, taking up almost an entire chapter, but she was determined. It was the same as any other class, she would work hard and follow the instructions and make it to the top… she began chopping up the Valerian roots quickly and precisely. Then there was the Infusion of Wormwood, which she weighed on the scale to make sure she had just the right amount. When she tossed it in and stirred once, twice, three times anticlockwise and once, twice, three times, four times clockwise, the potion turned a smooth, licorice-black colour that exactly matched the one displayed for the ideal halfway-point in the textbook. She grinned, feeling the rush of adrenaline that came from success.

The sloth's brain was easy; Hermione added it quickly and the potion obligingly turned an inky purple. Next the textbook instructed her to cut up the sopophorous bean in order to release the juice, but when she did so the juices only lightened the potion to a shade of violet, and it was supposed to be light lilac by now…

She was about to try cutting the bean into smaller pieces when she heard Malfoy speaking up.

"Sir, I believe you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?"

Professor Slughorn continued passing the Slytherin table and responded without looking at Malfoy, much to his displeasure. "Yes, I was sorry to hear that he died, although it wasn't unexpected… dragon pox at his age…"

At some other time Hermione might have smirked, but she was too busy growling at her sopophorous bean that refused to give enough juice… deciding to move on, she began stirring anticlockwise seven times; the potion was supposed to lighten further upon doing so to a perfectly clear hue. But nothing happened, except that the solution seemed to thicken slightly. Irate, Hermione glanced over at Harry's cauldron, hoping for a boost at her self-esteem to keep her going, but instead was shocked; his potion was a pale pink and lightening rapidly.

"How are you doing that?" she demanded.

Harry held up his book, which had so many scribbles in the margins that Hermione was surprised he was able to read anything at all. "Add a clockwise stir —"

"No, no, the book says anticlockwise," she snapped, growing irritated. Surely it was better to stick with the instructions than to listen to her friend, even if his wielded splendid results…

Irate, Hermione continued stirring. The potion was still resolutely purple by the time Professor Slughorn called that time was up, and she looked in the other cauldron's at her table while he moved around the room, hoping that they were less successful than Harry.

Ron's potion was hopeless, thick and dark as sludge. Percy's, however, was even lighter than Harry's, and Hermione swore. Why was it that everyone's seemed better than hers? Luckily Malfoy's, at least, was the exact same shade of violet as Hermione's. He would never beat Percy or Harry.

Professor Slughorn had finally reached their table, nodding at Hermione's potion and wincing at Ron's. His face split into a delighted grin at Percy's and Harry's, clapping each of them on the shoulder.

"Well, well! Two very close, competing for the top spot! Excellent work Harry, excellent, you've clearly inherited your mother's talent… but you, my boy, just a bit closer! Tell me your name, tell me your name!"

"Um, Percy Jackson, sir," Percy said.

"Oho!" Professor Slughorn exclaimed — he was quite fond of that expression, Hermione noted — "The transfer student! Your school must have been quite prestigious, quite prestigious indeed… well then, one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, use it well, use it well!"

Percy took the bottle carefully. "Thank you, sir."

Hermione cleaned up her cauldron carefully. She was bitter that she had come in third best, but appreciated that the transfer was good at magic… besides, the expressions on the Slytherins' faces were well worth it, especially Malfoy's.

"How did you do that?" Ron whispered to Percy.

He shrugged. "Well, I just followed the instructions… oh, and for the sopophorous bean, I didn't have a silver knife, so I just used my own, and the Celestial bronze worked really well." He hesitated. "Although, I kind of lost count for the stirrings, so I might have just gotten lucky."

Hermione assumed Celestial bronze was the metal his knife was made of, but she was only half-paying attention.

"Harry," she said once they were out of the classroom, "How did you do so well? — And don't lie, I know quite well you're rubbish at Potions."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, "But I just got lucky." In an undertone, he added. "I'll tell you later. Don't want Malfoy overhearing."

Hermione frowned, but let it slide.

Her next class was Charms, and she and Percy headed to Professor Flitwick's classroom while Harry and Ron went to Transfiguration. The door was already open, and they took seats next to each other in the front row of seats despite Percy's wishes to sit in the back.

"Hello, hello!" cried Professor Flitwick merrily, voice high and squeaky as always. "Welcome, all of you! We shall get started soon, simply wait for a few more students to join us…"

After she had gotten out her wand, parchment, and textbook, Hermione glanced around the room. A good number of people had gotten through to N.E.W.T. Charms; much to her dismay, the Slytherins included Malfoy, who she had been hoping to have this class without. She was still irked by Harry's success in Potions, and said to Percy rather huffily, "How do you think Harry did so well, making the Draught of Living Death? — Believe me, he's not good at Potions normally."

Percy shrugged. "Dunno. I mean, he had the same textbook as all of us, right? He couldn't have —"

Hermione slammed her hand down on the desk, making him jump. "That's it! Percy, you're a genius… it must have been the textbook, he borrowed one, remember? I saw the scribbles in the margins, the previous owner must have —"

Just then, Professor Flitwick rapped his wand on his desk for attention and cleared his throat. "Welcome, students, to N.E.W.T. Charms! This course describes quite advanced charms and magic, but I am perfectly confident in your abilities… and my excellent teaching, of course." He paused to allow the students to laugh a little, then continued. "All of you are familiar faces, so no need for an introduction… let us get right into it, then, please turn to page seven of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six."

Hermione found the page quickly, then looked up again for further instructions. "Today we will be learning the basics and the foundational knowledge for the Water-Making Charm, Aguamenti…"

Beside her, Percy looked up from where he had been dog-earing his page. "Water-Making Charm?" he muttered, almost to himself. "Awesome, this will be fun…"

Hermione ignored him, focussing attentively on the professor.

"Now. As indicated in your textbooks, the wand motion for Aguamenti is a smooth left-to-right wand motion. Swoop up, swoop down. Like so…" Professor Flitwick demonstrated the wand movement while saying aguamenti, and a jet of water streamed from his wand, dousing the Slytherins. Hermione laughed, as did most of the class, at Malfoy's incredulous expression. "All of you now, together, swoop up, swoop down. Very good, very good."

Hermione practised the movement enthusiastically, mouthing the word aguamenti while she did so. She pictured the water coming from her wand; if she had known the spell before, she was almost certain the spell would have worked nonverbally for her by now.

Professor Flitwick nodded at the class. "Now for the incantation. Make sure you are not emphasising the 'i' at the end, that often ends up with a very wet and painful face. Together now, aguamenti. With the wand movement! With the wand movement! Swoop up, swoop down. Good, Mr. Malfoy, you almost had it… Miss Granger, quick as always…"

Hermione had succeeded in a weak stream of water spouting from her wand gently. She grinned, only for Professor Flitwick to exclaim, "Well, well! You there, haven't seen you, what's your name, dear sir?"

He pointed at Percy, whose wand was spewing a powerful jet of clear water at the opposite wall. He seemed to be maintaining the charm easily, and answered Professor Flitwick simultaneously: "Percy Jackson, sir."

"The transfer student! Yes, excellent, Mr. Jackson, very excellent! Take ten points to Gryffindor, very well done."

Grinning, Percy extinguished his wand with a flourish and said to Hermione in an undertone, "I kind of like this point system. It's like a game. A point for you, a point for me, and a point for them."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, still slightly crestfallen that he had gotten it before her, but she couldn't help but smile.

Her good mood was quickly extinguished by Malfoy's sneering voice calling out from the Slytherin table (he seemed to still be miffed from being drenched by the teacher): "That's a first, Know-It-All Granger being beaten by a new student. Almost thought she's losing her touch, considering even retarded Potter beat her in Potions."

Hermione flushed, scowling at her desk in an attempt to stop herself from hexing Malfoy's pointed face. She had almost forgotten to be irritable about that, having been caught up in the excitement of learning something new; it was so Malfoy-like to ruin that for her.

"I don't recall you beating him, either," she snapped back, and Percy laughed out loud.

Although she hadn't looked up from her textbook, Hermione could picture Malfoy's incredulous expression and it very nearly made her smile again.

"Muggleborns," he muttered in a tone of disgust, but did not retort further, and Hermione knew she had won the round.

She had mostly mastered the charm by the time the bell rang, but resolved to work on it further despite the lack of official homework. The rest of her classes went by quickly, and soon she sat down for dinner with Harry, Ron, and Percy.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, putting down her spoon, "You never told us what went on during Potions."

He sighed. "Right. There were notes in the margins from the previous owner, and some of them contradicted the instructions — it said to crush the sopophorous bean with the flat side of the knife instead of chopping it, and to add a clockwise stir every seven anticlockwise. I just followed them, see?"

Hermione had begun scowling as he explained, although she had suspected something similar. Surely Harry couldn't be so thick-headed that he was unable to see the danger in following a stranger's instructions? But even worse, it hadn't even been his own work that almost earned him the Felix Felicis. She clenched her jaw at the indignation.

"I s'pose you think I cheated?" Harry said to her, looking aggravated.

"Well," Hermione said stiffly, "it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?"

"He only followed different instructions from ours," interjected Ron, seemingly annoyed that she was upset. "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off." He sighed. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I got the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but —"

"Hang on," said Ginny, who had joined them, "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"

She looked alarmed and angry, and Hermione remembered the Chamber of Secrets ordeal that had taken place in their second year.

"It's nothing, don't worry," Harry reassured her, and lowered his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."

"Well, I thought it was any old diary, until it tried to kill me. You're taking orders from it, though?" Ginny responded, placing her hands on her hips.

"I just tried a few things written in the margins. Ginny, really, it's nothing —"

Hermione interrupted; she realised that Ginny was right, and if she could convince Harry that it was dangerous, his work would have to be honest. "Ginny's got a point. We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all those funny instructions, who knows?"

She fished into his bag and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion Making. "Hey!" he protested, but she ignored him.

"Specialis Revelio!" Hermione said, tapping the book on the cover with her wand.

She waited for something to happen; for spells to begin appearing above it in green smoke, or for it to burst into flames, perhaps, but nothing happened. It sat there innocently, very still and very normal.

Hermione frowned at it. She was so sure that would work, but if the spell did nothing, perhaps it was all right after all… "Finished?" asked Harry, annoyed. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?"

She ignored his sarcasm, still staring at the book sceptically. "It seems all right. I mean, it really does seem to be… just a textbook."

"Good. Then I'll have it back," Harry told her, making a grab for the book, but it slipped off the table and fell to the floor. She shook his head at his clumsiness, still rather irked that she had been wrong.

Ginny seemed to notice Percy for the first time, and nodded at him. "Who's this? Oh — the transfer, right? Made friends with him already?"

"Yeah, that's Percy. He's all right," Ron told her. "Ow — look out, Harry!"

He had just come up from picking the book off the floor and accidentally banged his head against Ron's arm. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Pleased to meet you," Ginny said to Percy, shaking his hand. "Ginny Weasley, this oaf's sister."

"Hey!" said Ron indignantly. "I'm not an oaf — watch it, Gin, I'm older than you!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "By one year."

"I'm still older!"

"Percy Jackson," said Percy, smiling as he shook her hand.

I'm gonna be honest with you guys: Hermione's POV is my favorite to write from. Maybe it's because it's the only perspective that a canon book hasn't written from, but I just really enjoy writing her thoughts and the way she sees the world. Hopefully you guys enjoy reading it :)

Have an awesome weekend y'all!

unfinished . nocturne