A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

"I don't think it's Snape anymore. It's someone else," she confessed. "But I can't place who."

"Isn't the Elder Wand supposed to look like an ordinary wand? If it stood out, if its exceptional nature was evident at first glance, it wouldn't remain an unsolved mystery," Harry said, racking his brain for an example.

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione suggested.

"Exactly!" Harry slapped his thigh, excited. "I've seen the Philosopher's Stone, even touched it! Despite its immense significance, it looks quite ordinary. I mean, it's just a brightly colored red stone, not even as impressive as a moonstone."

Ron and Hermione were familiar with moonstones, a useful potion ingredient that, when polished, emanated a moonlit blue or bright white aura, perfect for jewelry.

"Well, that makes it harder to track down," Ron said disappointedly.

"Seriously," Hermione looked up from her book, "do you realize the O.W.L. exams are less than four weeks away? Even with the chance of re-taking them, I doubt if, after a year's delay, you'll manage to obtain enough N.E.W.Ts before graduation."

Harry and Ron instantly deflated, losing all enthusiasm, lazily starting their homework. After a while, Hermione tossed her book aside and left in a victorious manner.

"Here, it's all yours. I've finished."

Approaching exams saw everyone studying diligently. Harry, despite yawning constantly, struggled to read the textbook. The "Advanced Potion-Making" book left by Hermione seemed appealing; Harry wanted to explore its section on complex potions.

"How do you manage this?" he rubbed his temples wearily.

"What?" Ron asked, engrossed in "A History of Magic," a rare sight for Harry, who often saw Ron nodding off within five minutes.

"You seem pumped up," Harry yawned again, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Pumped up? What's that? Never mind. But yeah, I had a little something."

Looking around cautiously, Ron produced a small vial from his pocket.

Harry stared at the glass bottle, recognizing its contents from today's Potion class.

"Invigoration Draught?"

"Shh! Snagged it from the class," Ron said, sliding it to Harry from under the table. Harry understood why Ron had been so energetic all afternoon. Ron lowered his voice, "We need it; it suits us perfectly."

Harry felt a spark of curiosity. The potion temporarily boosted the user's energy levels, keeping them alert.

"How's it working?" Harry asked softly, feeling compelled to inquire because their grades had been teetering between 'pass' and 'fail' a few weeks ago. He hesitated to drink Ron's - or his own - brewed concoction.

If only Hermione were here, Harry thought. She would be someone trustworthy in this matter, having successfully brewed a complex potion in second year with effects lasting an hour, which was part of the Advanced class.

But then he reconsidered; if Hermione found out, she'd most likely exercise her prefect authority and confiscate the vial.

"It's working wonders!" Ron gestured to himself.

For the next fifteen minutes, Ron enthusiastically pitched the potion while Harry hesitated. He strongly suspected Ron's fervor stemmed from the potion's side effects, but it wasn't unbearable. He took a small sip.

"How's the taste?" Ron asked, expectantly.

"Well... maybe not bad?" Harry answered uncertainly, not sensing any noticeable effects.

"Have a bit more," Ron encouraged.

As Harry took another sip, someone tapped his shoulder. "Heard you had a spat with Snape, Harry?" Harry choked on the potion, it sticking in his throat, causing a fit of coughing before he could recover.

"Oops, my bad," Fred spread his hands, "What are you drinking? Some 'Knock-Out' potion?"

Harry rolled his eyes at him. George, sitting nearby, took the small glass vial from Harry, examining the pale blue liquid covering the bottom. He shook it and sniffed, "Invigoration Draught?"

"Quite the expert," Ron mock-praised.

"Hope you follow the instructions strictly," Fred interjected suddenly.

"What if we don't?" Harry asked worriedly, but both Fred and George wore expressions of both trepidation and amusement.

"Well, nothing major, just might lose some sleep," George said briefly.

"—And feel a bit hyper," Fred reminisced, disregarding the somewhat pale faces of the two.

After they left, and everyone else departed, leaving only Harry and Ron in the common room, they felt no inclination to sleep. "We can't keep this up; we've got class tomorrow," Harry decided, dragging Ron back to their dorm.

But they were entirely sleepless, tossing and turning in bed, eventually sneaking back to the common room.

"Who'd have thought, being energetic could be torture," Ron said, his eyes fixed on Harry, generating ideas almost every three seconds. At times, he brought out a History of Magic textbook, intending to burn the midnight oil; then he considered practicing magic with Harry; now, he suggested going for a stroll.

"You could read with me," Harry suggested, engrossed in Hermione's "Advanced Potion-Making" book, thrilled by the chapter titles: Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Amortentia, Felix Felicis, Draught of Living Death, and more...

But he was mainly interested in the annotations by two individuals, one of whom, he suspected, was Snape from their school days. It made him slightly queasy.

Ron's condition worsened; he became hysterical, gripped by an irrational fear. "What if I never sleep again? What if I doze off but can't wake up after the potion wears off?"

"That's the effects of Felix Felicis," Harry couldn't resist flaunting the knowledge he'd just acquired, "If you ever need it, you could brew your own, provided we can attend the Advanced class."

Finally, Ron made an unreasonable request, something he'd never say in his normal state.

"Knock me out," Ron said, a mix of despair and urgency in his tone.

"What?" Harry looked at him in surprise.

"I don't care! I need sleep; we've got class tomorrow," Ron said, rambling, pacing the common room, occasionally nudging Harry. Eventually, Harry withdrew his wand, agreeing to Ron's request.

A flash of red light, and Ron blissfully passed out.

After escorting him back to the dorm, Harry, watching Ron's slightly smiling face, felt a pang of fear. What if he ended up like this too? Who would knock him out?

But upon seeing Dean, Seamus, and Neville sound asleep, Harry felt a bit relieved. If necessary, before he caused more trouble, he could wake one of them to help him.

Anxiously, Harry returned to the common room with his tiny magical lamp, staring at his old textbook.

He glanced at the sky; the moon still hung high, a gray-green hue marking the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He estimated about four to five hours until dawn. This meant he had a significant chunk of free time to do as he pleased. Maybe going for a walk was a good idea? He suddenly recalled Ron's earlier suggestion, and his stomach churned.

Had the potion's side effects begun? "Patronus Charm," he murmured softly. A silver stag leaped out, its translucent, crystalline form shimmering. Harry gently stroked its antlers and head, feeling the texture vividly.

His unease dissipated, and he resumed reading the "Advanced Potion-Making" book left by Hermione.

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