"Do you think the Quidditch Key is really in the dungeons?" Maisie whispered to Colin as they waited for Potions class to start.
"Could be," Colin said.
Mike frowned at the two of them. "Because?"
"Because, Professor Granger said that Professors Potter and Weasley were looking for it too. And it was all three of them, last night," Colin pointed out. "And Professor Potter was carrying something. What if it was the Key? What if they found it and hid it down there? Maybe Professor Longbottom was waiting for them, and he was the one who let them in! I've looked all through the Quidditch section in the Library, and —"
He fell silent as the door banged open hard enough to bounce back against the frame, and Professor Granger swept into the Potions classroom. Her robe billowing behind her, she strode up to her desk and turned sharply.
"I have limited expectations that any of you will succeed at today's task," she said, without her usual smile. "However … I invite you to surprise me. Turn to page seventy-four."
Colin flipped through his textbook. He'd almost reached the right place when Maisie elbowed him sharply in the ribs and the pages fanned through his fingers.
"Oi!" he hissed at her.
"It's not about the book!" she hissed back. "The class, it's not about —"
"Miss Wilkins," Professor Granger said silkily. She folded her arms with a flick of her wrists to shake the sleeves of her robe back. "Is there something you wish to share with the class?"
"Not at present," Maisie said.
"Oh, must we await your pearls of wisdom?" Professor Granger asked. "Five points from Hufflepuff, and you, Miss Wilkins, can spend the rest of the class tidying the storage room. The rest of you, page seventy-four." Her voice cracked like a whip, and around the room, students frantically leafed through their textbooks. Out of the corner of his eye, Colin saw Maisie glare at Professor Granger, before she went into the storeroom.
Five points just for talking? Professor Granger must be in a terrible mood. Colin found the page. Seven ways to brew Cinderjuice.
Beside him, Mike raised his hand. "Professor Granger? Professor Granger, we haven't studied Ash Muddler Potion yet."
Professor Granger took a slow step towards Mike — and Colin — and then another. It was strangely menacing. "And, Mr Rowland?"
"It's the foundational potion for Cinderjuice. So we should —"
Professor Granger was right in front of Mike's bench now. Resting her hands on it, she leaned forward. "Should we, Mr Rowland?" she asked, her voice soft and venomous. "Perhaps you would like to teach this class?"
Mike shook his head. "No, Professor, I just meant —"
"Ten points from Ravenclaw," Professor Granger snapped. As Mike, and the rest of the Ravenclaw students, gasped in shock, she whirled in a flourish of robes and stalked back to the front of the classroom. "Any … other … questions?"
"No, Professor," voices around the room chorused.
"How refreshing," Professor Granger said coldly. "Who can tell me the uses of Cinderjuice?"
Colin raised his hand.
"Anyone? No? Cinderjuice renders the drinker fire-resistant for a short period of time. How long a period of time depends entirely on the skill of the brewer." Her gaze raked across the classroom, and her eyes narrowed. "For example, Cinderjuice brewed by anyone in this class would protect a witch or wizard from the heat of a candle-flame for as long as … oh, let's say three or four seconds. Cinderjuice brewed by a competent practitioner of the art of potions would enable anyone who drank it to walk through dragon-flame unharmed." Her gaze settled on Colin, whose hand was still up. "Yes, Aitkins?"
"Please, Professor, I just wondered — how do you tell how effective your Cinderjuice potion is?"
"Quite simply, Aitkins," Professor Granger sneered. "At the end of the class, you will all drink your potion and place your hand over a lit candle."
Colin gulped. She's joking … right? Professor Granger would never let us be hurt in class. Wouldn't she? Today, he was suddenly not so sure of that.
Professor Granger strode towards him with startling speed. "One day, Aitkins, if you learn enough in my class to pass your N.E. — which I seriously doubt — witches and wizards around Great Britain may entrust their very lives to your potions. Your lack of confidence in your own abilities … while undoubtedly warranted … does not bode well for them."
Colin looked down at his textbook, the words swimming at little. He blinked hard to clear his vision. "No, Professor."
"Perhaps you might be more comfortable in the storeroom with Wilkins?"
The thought of holding his hand over a flame, with nothing but his own potion to protect him from the heat, made Colin's stomach twist. The thing about being brave is that it's not really about not being scared. It's about doing the thing that scares you, anyway. That's what Professor Longbottom had said. Which means that to be brave I have to try to brew Cinderjuice.
But Professor Longbottom was a Gryffindor. And I'm just a Hufflepuff. And Hufflepuffs are sensible, and the sensible thing would be to avoid getting burned. Wouldn't it?
He'd hesitated too long. Professor Granger gave a disdainful sniff. "Very well. Carry on."
Colin stared at page seventy four, trying to make sense of it, as Professor Granger stalked back to the front of the classroom. In an odd-numbered year, begin at step four. None of the steps were numbered, however. Is step four the fourth paragraph or the fourth sentence?
"Psst!" Maisie's voice was unmistakable. "Pssst! Colin! Mike!"
He glanced over his shoulder to see her leaning out of the storeroom door. "Shut up! You'll get me in trouble!" he hissed.
"It's not her!" Maisie whispered fiercely.
Colin frowned. "Who isn't her?"
"You might not care about getting singed but I'd like to concentrate," Mike muttered.
"I'm serious!" Maisie leaned further out of the doorway, peering at the front of the classroom. "Look at her! Properly!"
Doing anything at all that would catch Professor Granger's attention when she was in the sort of mood she was today seemed to be the height of idiocy to Colin, but he raised his head enough to peep over the top of his textbook. Professor Granger was pacing slowly from one side of the classroom to the other, her robe billowing behind her when she walked and swirling dramatically around her when she turned. Although she didn't seem to be paying particular attention to the students, when one pushed a jar of ingredients incautiously close to the edge of the desk, Professor Granger sent it back to safety with a wave of her hand and a scowl.
A wave of her hand … golly, that's wandless magic! And silent! Wordless wandless magic, that's rarer than a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!
"See?"
Colin jumped. While he'd been watching Professor Granger, Maisie had scurried across from the storeroom and was crouching beside him.
She poked him in the ribs. "Our first class! Remember?"
Our first class …
"Impostor!" Maisie cries.
"You are!" the spitting image of Maisie standing in the doorway protests. "You've stolen my face!"
Colin eyed Professor Granger, who was now leaning against her desk with her arms folded, eyeing the class sourly. Has she ever folded her arms before? He tried to ignore what she looked like. She took points from Mike for asking a question … she's never been mean to me before … Professor Granger always looks like she's about to trip over her robe when she turns around, except today …
"Alright," he whispered down to Maisie. "It's Polyjuice."
"Yes, but who is it? It can't be Madam Weasley again, not actually teaching Potions."
"You don't know that," Mike said. "For all you know, she was an absolute genius at Potions and just preferred to play Quidditch."
"Well, Madam Weasley doesn't stalk like that, does she?" Maisie pointed out. "And where's the real Professor Granger, if someone's stolen her face?"
"Maisie, for all we know, she asked them too," Mike said exasperatedly. "I mean, this is Hogwarts. People can't just walk in here and steal teacher's identities."
'You don't know that they couldn't. It could be —"
"Miss Wilkins." They'd been too engrossed in their conversation to notice Professor Granger approaching, and now she stood directly in front of them. "Given your return to your desk, I can only presume that if I were to enter the storeroom, I would find it in perfect order? And Mr Rowland, Mr Aitkins, your Cinderjuice preparation is complete?"
"No, Professor," Colin whispered as Maisie slowly straightened up from her crouch.
"Then may I ask what is so very important that it supersedes following my instructions?"
"Nothing," Maisie said. "So you'd better send us to Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, for detention, don't you think?"
Professor Granger's eyes narrowed. "And I will. After you complete the task assigned. Storeroom, Wilkins. Now."
Maisie stuck out her chin. "No."
Mike gasped, and Colin tried to make himself as small as possible on his stool.
"I do beg your pardon," Professor Granger said softly. "I thought I heard you refuse to obey me."
"You're not Professor Granger, so you can't tell me what to do," Maisie said, to a chorus of more gasps around the classroom. "You don't talk like her, you don't walk like her, and you don't teach like her. You've Polyjuiced yourself to look like her, or used some other sort of magic maybe, but you aren't her." Her mouth set in a firm line. "And you'd better tell us what you've done with her, if you know what's good for you."
Professor Granger leaned forward, until her face was less than a foot from Maisie's. "Do you mean to tell me, Wilkins, that you are under the impression that I am an impostor powerful enough to incapacitate a Professor of Hogwarts?"
Colin gulped. Put like that, Maisie probably shouldn't have said anything … On the other side of Maisie, Mike was easing his wand from his sleeve, face white.
Professor Granger narrowed her eyes. "And what, precisely, do you —"
"Protego!" Mike yelled suddenly.
Professor Granger took a step back, her wand suddenly in her hand — a simple black wand that Colin had never seen before. That absolutely clinched it: Maisie was right.
"Come on!" Maisie grabbed Colin's arm and dragged him off his stool. She shoved him towards the door. "Run, idiot!"
Professor Granger flicked her wand, and the door slammed shut as the three of them reached it.
"Alohomora!" Mike gasped and it flew open again.
They fled through it. "Up!" Maisie said. "Find Professor Potter!"
Colin glanced back over his shoulder as they pelted down the corridor, convinced he was going to see the impostor closing on them, wand in her hand and murder in her heart. He stumbled over the bottom step of the staircase as Maisie hauled him into it, found his feet and, heart pounding, raced upwards. One turn, two, three —
Maisie rounded the last corner and ran straight into Professor Granger.
.
.
.
Author's notes: What did you think? Did you spot the substitution before the students? Thank you to all of you who've read this far, and thank you for all the feedback, I love hearing from readers!