𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼𝗰𝗸, harry potter

˗ˋ 169

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
AND SIXTY NINE
✧
-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH REVISION
IS DISCUSSED

. . .

Harry didn't speak to Hermione for several days following. Usually it was otherwise, with Hermione having taken offense to one of Ron's jokes or Harry had gotten angry at something and she would huff and sniff in their presence as the two boys spent their time together until Harry gained a conscience beyond his feelings or he convinced Ron it was probably a good idea to apologise.

But this time... Harry wasn't going to apologise for what he said, and with any grace Hermione would realise that telling someone that she believed his every action was because he had been influenced by someone else. Not to mention the amount of time Aviana had spent with them and, despite the catty, sarcastic remarks that she often made, for Hermione to truly think that she was stood there, whispering in his shoulder to do things like talk back to Umbridge - like he wasn't able to decide to do that - it was, quite frankly, insulting to the both of them.  

And this time it was up to Ron to divide his time between the two.

Determined to pass his O.W.L.s with flying colours and eventually becoming an Auror – simultaneously because he actually wanted to and now because he really wanted to prove Umbridge wrong – Harry didn't mind so much that majority of his time was now spent with Aviana and Ron in various places all throughout the castle, dependent on the weather.

But no matter how many fifth and seventh years could be found crowding every study space in the castle, Aviana always somehow got a table in the library.

"A Wit-Sharpening Potion doesn't make you smarter." Aviana reiterated with a sigh, for it seemed to be the hundredth time she had said it, a hand pressed to her temple.  "That's not what it's for."

"What does it do, then?" Ron asked belligerently. Harry shook his head, small grin on his lips as he hunched over his own Potions textbook. "It's literally called Wit-Sharpening!"

"Yes, it is, glad that you remember that, at least." She told him. "Wit is not synonymous with intelligence. It helps you find clarity and think clearly. If anything, it aids your intelligence."

"Right...." Ron made a quick note of it, scribbling it down on parchment. "So, it doesn't make you smarter?" He asked hopefully, for what would be the final time of him double-checking. 

"No." Aviana told him pointedly. "It allows you, in more simple terms, to access what intelligence you already have."

"Brilliant." Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, that's bloody useless then." He leant back in his chair, fiddling with his quill.

"No, not really. It's particularly useful for exam periods, like now," Aviana continued on, reaching over the table to his list of notes, where the ingredients had been written down.  "It's believed to include the finely powdered scarab beetles due to the fact that Ancient Egyptians thought scarab beetles symbolised not only resurrection and rebirth but also good luck and fortune, and that's why it's one of the main ingredients."

Harry looked up from his own studying. "Will that come up?"  He asked warily.  "I didn't think it would..."

"There was a question similar on last year's written component." Aviana told them, reaching for her bag and began rifling through it. Harry glanced over at Ron at the sound of dull glass clinking together. "Here." She said eventually, pulling out several sheets of parchment and dumping them on the table, flicking through the pages and separating them into two piles. "Two practise exams."