For the Greater Good || Tom Riddle ||

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Warlock

"Very good, Miss Gawmdrey! You're correct!" Professor Slughorn cheered as his giant belly rose up and down in merriment. "Ten points to Ravenclaw!"

Gwen allowed a small smile at his enthusiasm, but didn't quite grasp why it was garnered. His question had been simple enough, it had been about the Polyjuice Potion, a potion that would temporarily transform the user into another person by using something of that individual's body to add to the brew such as toenail clippings, dandruff, or a strand of hair.

At Durmstrang, Gwen had brewed the potion several times with much success. But every time she did so, her thoughts would run to her brother, Griffith, who, only two years younger, was a Metamorphmagus and would never have to use the potion to be able to take on someone else's appearance. He could it by will.

"As Miss Gawmdrey was saying," Slughorn continued to instruct the class with a jolly smile," the Polyjuice Potion is a complex and time-consuming concoction, and is best left to highly skilled witches and wizards."

His gaze floated back over to the two top students, the blonde haired transfer student and her handsome partner. Gwen found herself slightly flustered under the gaze of her classmates, since many of them glared at her with eyes green with envy—she was a loathed teacher's pet. But quite the opposite could be said for the boy, and to be expected, as Tom's lips twitched into a smug smirk at the Potion Master's obvious hint to the class.

"It takes 'round about one month to brew, and I doubt very many of you have the patience for that! Even if you're desperate to get a smooch in with the girl you've been sweet on since second year by taking on the appearance of her boyfriend," Slughorn chuckled.

Several students seemed to become more interested in the lesson, as though the old kook had given them an idea. Gwen quirked a disapproving brow, at the Slughorn's suggestion or her peers' peculiar interest, she wasn't quite sure. But she picked up her quill and wrote the remaining notes for the class.

Gwen scribbled everything down on her piece of parchment. Her left hand rubbed against the wet ink, smudging the paper slightly. Her eyes drifted to her left, where Tom sat next to her. She was dismayed to find that he had copied Slughorn's every word in his ever perfect, cursive script. His dark eyes, brooding yet satisfied with his penmanship, caught hers and Gwen immediately tore her gaze away. She saw his chin tilt slightly upwards with arrogance. She immediately turned herself back to her notes.

"The idea that a witch or wizard might make evil use of parts of the body is an ancient one, and exists in the folklore and superstitions of many cultures. But one cannot take on the identity of another forever, as the effect of the potion is only temporary, and depending on how well it has been brewed, may last anything from between ten minutes and twelve hours. You can change age, sex, and race by taking the Polyjuice Potion, but not species," said Slughorn as he listed off the possibilities on his hand.

The idea of someone using someone else's identity to do an evil under their name hung in the back of Gwen's mind even after Slughorn moved on from the topic. Griffith's words last time she had spoken to her replayed in her head.

According to him, Grindelwald enjoyed using his Metamorphmagus abilities for espionage. Gwen had thrown away the statement at first instinct, thinking that her brother was doing nothing more than talking himself up, but the more she thought about it, perhaps he wasn't lying. The fact that the younger boy could morph his features to take on any appearance he deemed fit would surely be helpful to Grindelwald's plans. He could be anyone. A perfect spy.

As Slughorn rambled on about some frivolous topic, Gwen cleared her head of thoughts about her task.

It was the day after Tom had showed her Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. The Monday morning felt incredibly bland as Gwen sat idly in every class, doing the necessary work, but always entertaining the thought of the ancient room and its slumbering beast.