Love Potion Number Five

Disclaimer: They’re not mine, I only play with them a bit!
All Harry Potter characters belong solely to JK Rowling and several
various publishers, which I don’t know the names of. No money is
being made off this story in any way, and all intents and purposes
are to simply bring some fun to some readers. Besides, if you sued
me, I’d be broke, and we certainly don’t want that! Enjoy!



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As the students finished their meals, the plates cleared as suddenly
and swiftly as they had filled. Dumbledore once more rose to his feet,
carefully tucking the tip of his long gray and white beard into the
golden cord that circled his waist. He stepped up to a small podium
that had appeared while the plates were clearing, and put one wizened
hand into the air. A hush settled over the Great Hall, and he smiled,
a faint twinkle in his eyes.

“So, now that we’ve been duly fed and watered, a few announcements
before we make our way to our -ahem- separate…” Dumbledore paused,
and locked eyes with a few of the students before continuing, “chambers.
Mr. Filch would like me to remind you that all products that can be found,
bought, or procured at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, which can be found,
incidentally, at 13077 Diagon Way, or by standard Owl Post to Fred or
George Weasley, are to be permanently banned from the school, as are
those byproducts from Lee Jordan’s Kit of Katastrophy and Debacle Duffle.
A few other items that managed to make the list this term are Scuzz
Rockets, Wailing Wallets, Insult-o-grams … Well, basically anything fun!”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat softly, and Dumbledore waved his
hands in the air. “Well, you get the idea, I’m quite certain. The complete
list, which I dare say you all will want to read, can be found on Mr. Filch’s
office door, though I am sure by now it has grown long enough to take up
space upon the surrounding hall walls.

“I must also remind you that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students
except as accompanied by our Care of Magical Creatures professor, Rubeus
Hagrid, and that tickling the Giant Squid is highly frowned upon. He has
complained most sincerely of upset tentacles, every year, and I am told that
upset tentacles are not at all good for digestion! Last but not least, I would
like you all to welcome our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,
Professor Bandystille.”

At Dumbledore’s words, the thin, waiflike woman sitting next to a rather
nervous-looking Professor Flitwick rose to her feet. Her pale skin had an almost
translucent quality to it, as though you could see the blue veins running just
beneath the surface. Long, white-gold hair fluttered like a living creature around
her shoulders, and icy blue eyes peered out from behind lashes like thick, white
lace around her eyes. She gave a thin-lipped, toothless smile before settling
back into her seat, almost delicately. It was as though every move was a
deliberate, yet graceful and well thought out gesture.

It seemed as though her gaze had briefly stopped time; breaths caught, eyes
glazed. Dumbledore clapped his hands together, and as one, the students and
professors alike blinked slowly, some shaking their heads as though waking
from a dream.

“I hope you will make Professor Bandystille welcome.” He turned toward the
pallid woman, “Good luck, professor.” Once more, Dumbledore faced the students.
“And now, off to your rooms. Prefects, please guide the first years to your
respective house common rooms, and don’t forget to point out the occasional
trick step and switching staircase, hmm? Last but not least, will the head boy
and girl please be so kind as to meet me outside my office?”



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Hermione climbed to her feet, shooting Ron a dirty look, as he called out, “Oi!
Come on pipsqueaks, I haven’t got all night, let’s go! First years, get over here
or you’ll sleep on the Hall floor!” He sent her a grin as she passed by, giving a
reassuring smile to the first year girl she’d helped on the Hogwart’s Express.

Hermione made her way through the entryway to the Great Hall, and slipped
behind the tapestry of the Three Drunken Jugglers. Exiting the narrow passageway
behind the tapestry, she stepped out from behind an empty frame across from
the stone gargoyles that guarded the staircase up to Dumbledore’s office. Crossing
her arms, she sat on the knee of one of the statues to await Dumbledore, and
going over possibilities of who the Head Boy could be.

“Oh, not you! Bad enough Potter made quiddich captain for his team, but the
mudblood as Head Girl? I might as well kill myself!”

Hermione lifted her chin from where it was resting on one palm, failing to hide the
brief look of displeasure that flashed over her features. She straightened her back,
and regarded the figure standing before her. From oiled hair down to polished black
shoes, Draco Malfoy was the picture of groomed perfection. Not a hair or piece of
clothing was out of place, and Hermione couldn’t help noticing that over the summer,
his lithe, somewhat thin frame had filled out, and his skin had a faint golden caste
to it, as though he’d spent quite a bit of time in the sun. His white blond hair and
gray eyes were offset almost alarmingly by the tanned face, as well as the softening
of what had been sharp angles in cheeks and chin.

“How about we have a little transfiguration lesson instead, Malfoy? You did make
such a charming little ferret… And Merlin knows I’d love to keep you in a little cage
in my closet. Though, Mrs. Norris might make a snack out of you, and then where
would we be?”

At the mention of the incident three years ago, when Professor Mad Eye Moody had
turned him briefly into a ferret, Draco’s gray eyes turned steely, and his jaw clenched,
his fist closing reflexively over the wand in his pocket. Hermione arose, and her own
hand slipped closer to her wand, just in case.

Cutting through the almost visible tension in the hallway, Dumbledore approached
them, smiling. “Come, come, up to my office. We’ve much to discuss!” Turning toward
one of the gargoyles, Hermione heard him murmer, “Canary Creams!” and watched as
the stone statues leapt aside. Dumbledore hopped forward and motioned for Draco and
Hermione to follow.

Draco mock-bowed and rolled his eyes. “Ladies first.” The emphasis on ‘ladies’ told
Hermione he believed she was nothing of the sort, but she strode forward, and stepped
lightly onto the raising staircase. She heard Malfoy grumbling below her as he too got
on at the last second, before the guardian gargoyles leapt closed, once more hiding the
entrance to the stair.



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Ginny followed her brother and Harry as they shepherded the newest flock of Gryffindors
toward their tower. Once again she enjoyed the view of Harry’s backside, smiling to herself.
She was so caught up in the fantasy playing through her mind that Ginny forgot to hop the
trick stair on the second floor by the one and only muggle painting in the castle. As her
leg sunk halfway into the vanished step, she sat down hard, muffling a startled yelp. She
struggled futilely, until she was exhausted with the effort to remove her leg. Sighing to
herself, she looked around as she waited for someone to come by and help her out.

After half an hour, Ginny was still stuck with one leg in the staircase. Nobody had come by
in either direction, and she was left to stare forlornly at the muggle painting next to her
head. Two or three hours had gone by, and still she was stuck. Ginny contemplated the
painting curiously, and she could not figure out what allure the picture held. It might have
been a little more interesting if the figures of cigar-smoking, poker-playing dogs moved,
but they just sat there, in that boring way muggle paintings usually did.

Finally, after what felt like several hours, she rolled to one side, resting her head on one
arm. Resignedly, she closed her eyes, figuring that if she couldn’t sleep in her bed in the
dorm, at least a little sleep on the stair wouldn’t hurt. However, moments after her eyes
closed, someone came down from above, lifted her in his arms, and took her up to
Gryffindor tower, settling her into a stuffed chair by the fire.

Opening bleary eyes, Ginny saw a retreating form climbing the stairs to the boy’s
dormitories, but was too tired to call after him. Forcing herself to her feet, Ginny climbed
the stairs on the opposite side of the common room, slipped through the door to her own
dorm, pushed aside the heavy drapes around the bed, and collapsed robes and all, into
an exhausted slumber.



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Author’s Note: In regards to your question in the review, yes Katharina, you’re
correct; the wand comes from Rowena Ravenclaw. As those of you who have read the 6th
book know, I have taken a few elements from it, and excluded others, as per whatever
strikes my fancy at that particular time.

Obviously, some now deceased characters are still alive and kicking in this story, etc etc
ad nauseum. Heh, I liked it better that way, and besides, it works for this story, so that’s
just how it’s going to be!

Still no smut, but hey, what’s a story without some plot? Oh… mindless porn. Sorry, I try
not to write that kind of story. *wink*

Anyway, written reviews are most welcome, though I know there’s not a whole lot to review
yet, so thank you to Katharina and Evil Saint.

I hope my switching PoV’s hasn’t thrown you off to severely yet, though there’s quite a bit
more of that to come, including some more PoV’s that we haven’t heard from yet.

Sorry for another short chapter; I just keep coming to these nearly perfect stopping points,
and besides, it’s time for me to close up the office and go home from work. It\'s been one
of those seemingly-endless days, so I\'m more than happy to get out of here. I’ll start on
chapter 3 tonight, and hopefully have it up sometime tomorrow. Ta for now!