Moriarty and Lilith quietly browsed the shelves in the Hogwarts library, diligently searching for relevant materials. They respected Madam Pince's strict rules—silently flipping through books, making notes with enchanted quills, and keeping their heads down. The tranquility remained undisturbed until midday, when Jericho burst into the library, disrupting the solemn atmosphere.
Jericho dashed toward their table, his voice loud with urgency. "Sir, sir! You know, I went to talk to those two boys after class—Keith and Ralbo—but they just stared at me like I was a grindylow! Then they bolted!"
He threw his hands up at shoulder level, flapping them for emphasis. "This isn't normal! I've got a decent rapport with them, and they're not usually the type to wear their emotions like a Howler!"
"Blanche!" Madam Pince snapped from the other end of the room.
Before the librarian could march over, Moriarty quickly grabbed Jericho by the arm and hauled him toward the exit. Lilith trailed behind, pausing only to return the tome she had been reading.
"They're disgusted with school like you?" Lilith scoffed once they were outside, clearly amused. "If Keith and Ralbo actually make it to graduation, they'll owe Merlin himself. Who do they think they are, getting tired of school like they're Dumbledore?"
"They play sentry once and get airs," Moriarty added with a shrug, clearly unbothered. "I won't rely on them for missions again."
Chatting as they went, the trio made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Afterwards, they returned to their dormitory to collect their cauldrons and potion kits before heading to the dungeon classroom.
Having learned from their early arrival to McGonagall's Transfiguration class last week, they chose a more conventional time to enter the Potions dungeon. Professor Snape sat atop the raised podium in his signature billowing black robes, resembling an ominous bat surveying his prey.
"Why are there already so many people here?" Jericho murmured as they entered. Most of the stools were empty, but a quiet tension hung in the air.
"No one dares be late to Professor Snape's class," Lilith replied, settling into a seat. "Mark my words, we'll be brewing a Swelling Solution today."
Moriarty raised an eyebrow. "So you were researching swelling potions in the library?"
"Precisely." Lilith's eyes gleamed with confidence. "I told you last term—I'm going to challenge you in Potions this year."
"You two are something else," Jericho muttered. "I'm more intrigued by our school motto than bubbling brews. Sir, find anything of use in the library?"
"Not particularly," Moriarty said flatly. "There are hundreds of dragon stories, but the legend of the Sleeping Dragon is scarcely mentioned. Old Flint wrote me yesterday. He's sending every known dragon myth before next Monday."
As he scrubbed his golden cauldron with a wire brush, Jericho spoke in a hushed tone. "I've got a bad feeling… What if that story of the young dragon slayer becoming a dragon is real? Maybe there's a sleeping dragon beneath Hogwarts, one sealed here after being transformed."
Moriarty exchanged a thoughtful glance with Lilith and gave a slight nod. "Not an unfounded concern."
Just then, students began trickling into the dungeon in an odd procession—Gryffindors and Slytherins walking side-by-side. A far cry from their usual disdain, the lions and snakes now entered together with sluggish reluctance.
It was strange. Gryffindors typically charged ahead to assert dominance over Slytherins, but during Potions, they'd lag behind, dreading Snape's scorn. Yet today, the usual house divide had vanished.
Even Percy Weasley, known for his punctuality and Gryffindor pride, slouched in without his usual energy.
Snape's voice sliced through the tension like a cursed blade. "I once thought your heads were merely filled with pumpkin juice," he sneered, arms folded. "But it turns out that was overly generous. Your limbs must exist purely for decoration."
Moriarty, Lilith, and Jericho stifled laughter as students scurried to their seats, jarred into awareness by the insult.
Snape stepped down from the podium, clutching a narrow dark-green crystal bottle.
"This potion causes the affected body part to swell upon contact," he said smoothly. "Who can name it?"
Lilith's hand shot up, but Snape ignored her, walking instead to the sulking Percy.
"Weasley?"
Percy jolted upright like he'd been hexed. "Oh! Swelling Solution, sir!"
"Correct, albeit obvious," Snape replied dryly, not bothering to dock or award house points. Moriarty suspected it was simply a reminder that Percy was still in class.
"Focus," Snape added flatly before stepping aside.
He advanced to another student. "Kess. List the ingredients."
Keith stood, trembling. "I—I don't know, Professor."
"Oh? Then perhaps you should read them," Snape snapped. "Or has the esteemed Keith deemed textbooks beneath him?"
Snape leaned in menacingly, eyes as black and bottomless as the lake, draining the color from Keith's face. He fumbled to open his "Magical Drafts and Potions" textbook, but Snape had already turned away.
"Miss Pilliwick!" Snape barked. "Recite the ingredients. And don't say you can't find them."
"Certainly, Professor," Lilith said confidently, flipping directly to the annotated page. Moriarty noticed her margins were overflowing with notes.
"The ingredients are: dried nettles, puffer-fish eyes, bat spleen…"
As Lilith read fluently, Moriarty closed his eyes. The Swelling Solution was clearly more advanced than the basic brews of first year, though nothing compared to the intricate Neutralizing Potion from last term.
When Lilith finished, Snape returned to the front and waved his wand. Containers filled with ingredients levitated through the air.
"One set per person," Snape instructed languidly. "And I won't be repeating myself."
With another flick, cauldrons, scales, crystal vials, silver knives, and translucent mortars arranged themselves in order.
"The professor's too fast!" Lilith whispered. "I practiced for two weeks this summer and still can't match that speed."
"Use your mind, not your muscles," Moriarty said as he laid out his equipment, absently toying with his mortar.
"First step," Snape's voice cracked like a spell across the room, "add two tablespoons of dried nettles to the mortar!"
Only Moriarty and Lilith reacted in time. Jericho fumbled wildly, nearly knocking over his cauldron.
"Step two! Add three measures of puffer-fish eyes!"
Again, Moriarty and Lilith completed the task. Jericho, meanwhile, held up the eyeballs and rolled them at Keith, trying to provoke a smile. Keith's pallor lightened slightly.
"What a considerate clown," Moriarty chuckled.
"Third step!" Snape's voice now had the finality of a bell tolling death. "Grind to a medium-fine consistency. You have five minutes—no more, or you start over!"
Moriarty began pounding in rhythm. Dong, dong, dong.
Lilith grabbed his arm. "Hey! You're supposed to grind, not pound!"
"Look at Snape," Moriarty replied, redirecting her gaze with a light tap to her head.
Lilith turned and narrowed her eyes. "He's using his wand—cheating! He did it instantly!"
"If you've brewed this potion a thousand times, you can use a wand. For now—grind."
He resumed his pounding. Dongdongdong
Students glanced over at Moriarty. Snape did too but said nothing. Lilith resumed grinding with extra effort, clearly imagining she was pulverizing Moriarty's smugness.
Jericho, meanwhile, watched Moriarty closely, copying his technique with lazy amusement.
"Getting free knowledge is the best," he said smugly, leaning back and watching others struggle. "Two minutes flat, thanks to you."
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