Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Secret Lives Of Potions Masters
(Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, CSI, nor anything else contained within these pages, no infringement is intended.)
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Through the glass walls, Hermione could see a man in lab coat with, it could only be described as, crazy hair, ‘honestly, it looks as though it’s trying to revolt,’ Hermione thought as she tried to discern what the man was occupied with. ‘It’s a toss up between mixing chemicals and having a seizure? … Or’ Hermione reasoned as Sara opened the door the the enclosure and loud punk music filled the hall, ‘he could be dancing.’ Hermione smiled as she watched.
"Yo, Sara," a man shouted from further down the hall, in an attempt to be heard over the din. "Come on, you need to clock out," he yelled again. "I’ll be there in a minute, Nick," Sara shouted back. Sara then opened her mouth to pursue her investigation of Hermione when the man, Nick, yelled again. "Sara, you haven’t been cleared for overtime. Do you want to get in trouble with Griss?" "Fine," said Sara loudly, then growled under her breath, a thunderous look appearing on her face. Nick took that as his cue to disappear. Sara turned away from Hermione, and stomped down the hall, both hands clenching into fists. She paused momentarily and yelled over her shoulder at Hermione, "Greg’s in there," she gestured towards the lab then resumed stomping down the hall, heading after Stokes. ‘Glad I’m not that guy. Still they must do pretty important work to be so stressed out. At least Greg seems like he’s still finding the fun.’ Hermione thought as the hall suddenly became blessedly silent and empty.
Hermione moved towards the open door quietly, choosing to observe Greg a little more before interrupting him. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee leached out the door, overpowering the various chemicals present in the lab. Hermione breathed the scent in deeply. "Sara," Greg acknowledged without turning around, still preoccupied with his chemicals, "If you’re here for you prints, they’re not done running through AFIS, things got backed up, sorry. Oh, tell Catherine that hair she pulled off her DB isn’t human, it’s feles domestica." He paused waiting for her to comment. "Come on, guess," he said playfully. "Housecat, do you know what breed?" Hermione said thinking of Crookshanks. She had no idea how to discover his breeding, ‘but if there was a scientific way, maybe he would teach her.’
Greg turned at the sound of her voice, "You’re not Sara," he realized. "Not even a little," Hermione replied, snorting. Greg looked around shiftily for witnesses, finding none he spoke again, pleading, "I don’t suppose I can convince to forget all that stuff I just said." "Maybe," said Hermione coyly, "if you’ll tell me what AFIS is ?" Greg looked Hermione up and down, cocked his eyebrow and summoned a flirtatious grin to his face. "New intern?" he asked slyly. ‘Given the level of tension in this place I’m not surprised they go through so many interns,’ Hermione thought, though she was bemused by Greg’s overt flirting.
"What’s AFIS?" she asked again, entering the room and dodging his question for the time being. Greg was intrigued, ‘she seems genuinely interested, wow.’ Greg walked around the lab pointing out the various instruments and machines used in the examination and evaluation of forensic evidence. "AFIS stands for Automated Fingerprint Identification System." Greg was warming to his subject, "CODIS stands for Combined DNA Index Systems, basically aids in the identification of blood and tissue, so we can find it’s source. This a mass spectrometer … gas chromatograph … fume hood … and Luminol, it’s used to detect blood on scene after it’s been cleaned." A whole new field of research possibilities was opening up for Hermione, ‘there’s so much I don’t know,’ Hermione thought a bit embarrassed by that fact. "Blood, huh," said Hermione, her stomach rolling again, "is there usually a great deal of that lying around?"
Greg grimaced remembering his own encounters with crime scenes. "Yeah," he said softly, "there tends to be," he sighed. Then smiled bemusedly to himself, "so how old are you ? And why are you here? And don’t say you’re an intern," he raised his arms in a sweeping gesture, to encapsulate the room and it’s contents, "if you were, you’d at least know the basics." "I never said I was an intern," Hermione said almost primly, she continued, "I’m sixteen, and … I’m here to see you." At that Hermione shut the door and leaned against it, blocking Greg’s only avenue of exit. Greg was too caught up in the middle part of Hermione’s statement and it’s implications, to register the latter; or her subsequent actions. ‘Only sixteen, damn,’ he thought, then noticed the shut door, Hermione new position as doorstop, and the tense look now residing on her face.
"Really though, I’m seventeen," she continued in an effort to be truthful, "I always forget that year with the time turner." Uncomprehending he repeated, "time turner?" Then Greg’s eyes widened at the shock of the revelation, he closed his eyes in an attempt to deny it. "I’m Hermione Granger," she said, raising her hand to shake his in greeting, "I’m from Hogwarts." At the mention of his alma matter, Greg’s eyes snapped open and his face froze in an expression of loathing normally reserved for something truly vile and despicable. "Get out, Witch," Greg ordered, sneering violently as the word ‘witch’ passed his lips. ‘So much for this being easy,’ Hermione thought. She slowly lowered her proffered hand; gone was the eager young gentleman from moments before, in his place stood an angry, arrogant man spitting fire and ice.
‘Definitely Slytherin." Hermione thought as Greg tried to force the door open; unnoticed the parchment with Greg’s name written on it fell to the floor in the ensuing struggle. Using God only knew what power, Hermione, managed to repel him, fiercely scratching his hand in the process. "Not until you listen to what I have to say," She commanded with anger of her own. "We need your help, I would not be here otherwise," Hermione’s voice was tight with emotion, "You have to come back to Hogwarts with me." "Yeah, that’s going to happen," Greg said sarcastically, throwing himself into his chair, looking for all the world like a petulant child. Hermione relaxed slightly, then mentally chided herself for doing so, ‘this is still a sticky situation, you can relax when you are back at Hogwarts, not before.’ "If you’ll just listen …" Hermione began again.
Greg laughed and said coldly, "Nothing you say could convince me to go back there, you’re risking your life coming here, is it worth it?" "Professor Snape is hurt, he needs you," Hermione wailed. "Oh you’re good," he mocked, while slowing clapping his hand at her ‘performance’, "hitting just the right note of panic, quite believable." "It’s the truth," Hermione said, tears forming in her eyes, ‘why won’t he believe me,’ "Dumbledore sent me." "Here? Oh that’s rich," Greg continued in a sotto voice, "what’s the matter, Dumbledore getting anxious? War not going well? What a pity." "No, frankly it’s not, but that’s not why I’m here," Hermione tried to gather her wits and fabricate a convincing argument. He spoke again, "And how do I even know which side you’re on, who you’re working for?" Greg stood up from the chair and began to advance towards her, menacingly, "You could be in the service of Voldemort." Hermione’s eyes widened at Greg’s use of that name, ‘he’s not afraid of Voldemort, then why is he stalling? what is he afraid of?’ Greg continued talking, "oh yes, you’d make an excellent lure, all fresh and innocent, at least on the outside." Greg had backed Hermione right up against the door and leaned over her, blocking her escape. Hermione’s heart began to race at his close proximity.
"Tell me," Greg whispered softly, slyly in her ear, "where did he put the dark mark?" He moved back slightly to catch her eye and smirk. Greg knew his attempts at intimidation were having an effect on Hermione, ‘just one more push, she’ll crack and I can get the hell out of here.’ Hermione latched onto the first thing that came to mind, desperate to stop a bad situation from becoming worse. She said, "I’ve got proof. I’ve got a note from Dumbledore." Greg pushed away from the door, throwing his hands up in frustration, he laughed caustically, "well, that just clears everything right up, she’s got a note," he said to no one in particular. Hermione’s heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Giving her a pointed look, Greg continued as though talking to a simpleton, "what does it say?" "I don’t know," Hermione took a step away from the door and reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the still sealed envelope. She held it aloft for him to take, "It’s for you," she said.
"Oh, Gods. A Gryffindor." Greg slumped again in the chair, leaned back and laughed humourlessly, "I should have guessed," he sneered. He reached over, and turning down the volume control, turned on the radio. The Smiths, ‘How soon is now’ filled the room. "A true Hufflepuff," Greg continued dryly, "would have had the grace to look embarrassed at being accused of snooping, something they would never, ever do. A true Slytherin, on the other hand, would know it's content, by fair means or foul, and having evaluated it’s worth would either lie or tell the truth, whichever would hold the greatest benefit for them. A true Ravenclaw, now they would know exactly what was written in that letter, probably word for word, without ever having opened it; all those extra grey cells floating about. That leaves us with Gryffindor." Greg continued in a melodramatic tone, "brave and loyal, stupid and blind," he sneered again. Hermione’s hands tightened involuntarily into fists, accidentally crushing the letter in question. Her already frayed temper snapped in the wake of this vitriol.
"That’s It!," Hermione shouted, then in a cold voice that brooked no opposition, she continued, "I’ve had enough of you, insulting me, insulting Dumbledore, when all we’ve done is ask you for help. I’m sure you’ve got reasons, but I really don’t care. I’m tired, hungry, half way across the bloody world, and traumatized to boot because I’m the one that found Snape unconscious and bleeding in a corridor. I don’t need you behaving like an ass, on top of all that. If Professor Snape didn’t need you so badly, I’d hex you and be done with it. Now, you are going to read this note, then you are going to come back to Hogwarts and do whatever is necessary to save Professor Snape. And if I hear one more word out of you I won’t be held responsible of my actions." At this Hermione reached out and grabbed Greg’s hand; forced it open and slammed the letter down into it. The second Greg’s and Hermione’s hands were both in contact with Dumbledore’s letter, Hermione’s eyes widened in shock; and Greg, realizing what was happening, opened his mouth to scream "NO," when they both vanished simultaneously from the lab.
A few minutes later, the door opened slightly and a woman poked her head in asking, "Greg, I was wondering if you’d gotten the results off that hair I gave you …" She trailed off, looking around the notably deserted room, thinking ‘huh, must’ve cut out early.’ She walked over to the desk and began rifling through the papers, searching for her test results. "So, Greg," Sara said before entering, ‘tell me about you’re new friend." Having told off Nick, and had a quick shower, Sara felt her temperament had vastly improved. She was almost prepared to give mystery girl, Hermione Granger the benefit of the doubt. Entering the room, Sara noticed the absence of Greg and the girl, and the presence of Catherine. "Where’s Sanders?" Sara questioned the older woman. "Vanished," Catherine Willows, deadpanned. "Very funny," Sara said, her voice heavily laced with sarcasm. ‘That’s odd, radio’s on,’ Sara walked over to the radio and was about to turn it off when she noticed the full cup of coffee sitting of to one side.
Sara picked up the cup tentatively, half expecting Greg to jump out at her and warn her away from his sacred brew. She took a small sip and grimaced. The coffee burned as it traveled down her throat, releasing a strong shot of caffeine in it’s wake. "This coffee’s still hot," Sara observed. Catherine just shrugged her shoulders, deeply absorbed in trying to interpret the findings without Greg’s help. Her suspicious instincts kicking into overdrive, Sara turned and regarded the room, searching for anything else out of place. Looking over at the doorway, she noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor. Crouching down beside it, she quickly identified it as the parchment that girl had been holding earlier. While down there, Sara noticed something far more sinister. "Cath," she said, "there’s blood on the floor."
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Through the glass walls, Hermione could see a man in lab coat with, it could only be described as, crazy hair, ‘honestly, it looks as though it’s trying to revolt,’ Hermione thought as she tried to discern what the man was occupied with. ‘It’s a toss up between mixing chemicals and having a seizure? … Or’ Hermione reasoned as Sara opened the door the the enclosure and loud punk music filled the hall, ‘he could be dancing.’ Hermione smiled as she watched.
"Yo, Sara," a man shouted from further down the hall, in an attempt to be heard over the din. "Come on, you need to clock out," he yelled again. "I’ll be there in a minute, Nick," Sara shouted back. Sara then opened her mouth to pursue her investigation of Hermione when the man, Nick, yelled again. "Sara, you haven’t been cleared for overtime. Do you want to get in trouble with Griss?" "Fine," said Sara loudly, then growled under her breath, a thunderous look appearing on her face. Nick took that as his cue to disappear. Sara turned away from Hermione, and stomped down the hall, both hands clenching into fists. She paused momentarily and yelled over her shoulder at Hermione, "Greg’s in there," she gestured towards the lab then resumed stomping down the hall, heading after Stokes. ‘Glad I’m not that guy. Still they must do pretty important work to be so stressed out. At least Greg seems like he’s still finding the fun.’ Hermione thought as the hall suddenly became blessedly silent and empty.
Hermione moved towards the open door quietly, choosing to observe Greg a little more before interrupting him. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee leached out the door, overpowering the various chemicals present in the lab. Hermione breathed the scent in deeply. "Sara," Greg acknowledged without turning around, still preoccupied with his chemicals, "If you’re here for you prints, they’re not done running through AFIS, things got backed up, sorry. Oh, tell Catherine that hair she pulled off her DB isn’t human, it’s feles domestica." He paused waiting for her to comment. "Come on, guess," he said playfully. "Housecat, do you know what breed?" Hermione said thinking of Crookshanks. She had no idea how to discover his breeding, ‘but if there was a scientific way, maybe he would teach her.’
Greg turned at the sound of her voice, "You’re not Sara," he realized. "Not even a little," Hermione replied, snorting. Greg looked around shiftily for witnesses, finding none he spoke again, pleading, "I don’t suppose I can convince to forget all that stuff I just said." "Maybe," said Hermione coyly, "if you’ll tell me what AFIS is ?" Greg looked Hermione up and down, cocked his eyebrow and summoned a flirtatious grin to his face. "New intern?" he asked slyly. ‘Given the level of tension in this place I’m not surprised they go through so many interns,’ Hermione thought, though she was bemused by Greg’s overt flirting.
"What’s AFIS?" she asked again, entering the room and dodging his question for the time being. Greg was intrigued, ‘she seems genuinely interested, wow.’ Greg walked around the lab pointing out the various instruments and machines used in the examination and evaluation of forensic evidence. "AFIS stands for Automated Fingerprint Identification System." Greg was warming to his subject, "CODIS stands for Combined DNA Index Systems, basically aids in the identification of blood and tissue, so we can find it’s source. This a mass spectrometer … gas chromatograph … fume hood … and Luminol, it’s used to detect blood on scene after it’s been cleaned." A whole new field of research possibilities was opening up for Hermione, ‘there’s so much I don’t know,’ Hermione thought a bit embarrassed by that fact. "Blood, huh," said Hermione, her stomach rolling again, "is there usually a great deal of that lying around?"
Greg grimaced remembering his own encounters with crime scenes. "Yeah," he said softly, "there tends to be," he sighed. Then smiled bemusedly to himself, "so how old are you ? And why are you here? And don’t say you’re an intern," he raised his arms in a sweeping gesture, to encapsulate the room and it’s contents, "if you were, you’d at least know the basics." "I never said I was an intern," Hermione said almost primly, she continued, "I’m sixteen, and … I’m here to see you." At that Hermione shut the door and leaned against it, blocking Greg’s only avenue of exit. Greg was too caught up in the middle part of Hermione’s statement and it’s implications, to register the latter; or her subsequent actions. ‘Only sixteen, damn,’ he thought, then noticed the shut door, Hermione new position as doorstop, and the tense look now residing on her face.
"Really though, I’m seventeen," she continued in an effort to be truthful, "I always forget that year with the time turner." Uncomprehending he repeated, "time turner?" Then Greg’s eyes widened at the shock of the revelation, he closed his eyes in an attempt to deny it. "I’m Hermione Granger," she said, raising her hand to shake his in greeting, "I’m from Hogwarts." At the mention of his alma matter, Greg’s eyes snapped open and his face froze in an expression of loathing normally reserved for something truly vile and despicable. "Get out, Witch," Greg ordered, sneering violently as the word ‘witch’ passed his lips. ‘So much for this being easy,’ Hermione thought. She slowly lowered her proffered hand; gone was the eager young gentleman from moments before, in his place stood an angry, arrogant man spitting fire and ice.
‘Definitely Slytherin." Hermione thought as Greg tried to force the door open; unnoticed the parchment with Greg’s name written on it fell to the floor in the ensuing struggle. Using God only knew what power, Hermione, managed to repel him, fiercely scratching his hand in the process. "Not until you listen to what I have to say," She commanded with anger of her own. "We need your help, I would not be here otherwise," Hermione’s voice was tight with emotion, "You have to come back to Hogwarts with me." "Yeah, that’s going to happen," Greg said sarcastically, throwing himself into his chair, looking for all the world like a petulant child. Hermione relaxed slightly, then mentally chided herself for doing so, ‘this is still a sticky situation, you can relax when you are back at Hogwarts, not before.’ "If you’ll just listen …" Hermione began again.
Greg laughed and said coldly, "Nothing you say could convince me to go back there, you’re risking your life coming here, is it worth it?" "Professor Snape is hurt, he needs you," Hermione wailed. "Oh you’re good," he mocked, while slowing clapping his hand at her ‘performance’, "hitting just the right note of panic, quite believable." "It’s the truth," Hermione said, tears forming in her eyes, ‘why won’t he believe me,’ "Dumbledore sent me." "Here? Oh that’s rich," Greg continued in a sotto voice, "what’s the matter, Dumbledore getting anxious? War not going well? What a pity." "No, frankly it’s not, but that’s not why I’m here," Hermione tried to gather her wits and fabricate a convincing argument. He spoke again, "And how do I even know which side you’re on, who you’re working for?" Greg stood up from the chair and began to advance towards her, menacingly, "You could be in the service of Voldemort." Hermione’s eyes widened at Greg’s use of that name, ‘he’s not afraid of Voldemort, then why is he stalling? what is he afraid of?’ Greg continued talking, "oh yes, you’d make an excellent lure, all fresh and innocent, at least on the outside." Greg had backed Hermione right up against the door and leaned over her, blocking her escape. Hermione’s heart began to race at his close proximity.
"Tell me," Greg whispered softly, slyly in her ear, "where did he put the dark mark?" He moved back slightly to catch her eye and smirk. Greg knew his attempts at intimidation were having an effect on Hermione, ‘just one more push, she’ll crack and I can get the hell out of here.’ Hermione latched onto the first thing that came to mind, desperate to stop a bad situation from becoming worse. She said, "I’ve got proof. I’ve got a note from Dumbledore." Greg pushed away from the door, throwing his hands up in frustration, he laughed caustically, "well, that just clears everything right up, she’s got a note," he said to no one in particular. Hermione’s heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Giving her a pointed look, Greg continued as though talking to a simpleton, "what does it say?" "I don’t know," Hermione took a step away from the door and reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the still sealed envelope. She held it aloft for him to take, "It’s for you," she said.
"Oh, Gods. A Gryffindor." Greg slumped again in the chair, leaned back and laughed humourlessly, "I should have guessed," he sneered. He reached over, and turning down the volume control, turned on the radio. The Smiths, ‘How soon is now’ filled the room. "A true Hufflepuff," Greg continued dryly, "would have had the grace to look embarrassed at being accused of snooping, something they would never, ever do. A true Slytherin, on the other hand, would know it's content, by fair means or foul, and having evaluated it’s worth would either lie or tell the truth, whichever would hold the greatest benefit for them. A true Ravenclaw, now they would know exactly what was written in that letter, probably word for word, without ever having opened it; all those extra grey cells floating about. That leaves us with Gryffindor." Greg continued in a melodramatic tone, "brave and loyal, stupid and blind," he sneered again. Hermione’s hands tightened involuntarily into fists, accidentally crushing the letter in question. Her already frayed temper snapped in the wake of this vitriol.
"That’s It!," Hermione shouted, then in a cold voice that brooked no opposition, she continued, "I’ve had enough of you, insulting me, insulting Dumbledore, when all we’ve done is ask you for help. I’m sure you’ve got reasons, but I really don’t care. I’m tired, hungry, half way across the bloody world, and traumatized to boot because I’m the one that found Snape unconscious and bleeding in a corridor. I don’t need you behaving like an ass, on top of all that. If Professor Snape didn’t need you so badly, I’d hex you and be done with it. Now, you are going to read this note, then you are going to come back to Hogwarts and do whatever is necessary to save Professor Snape. And if I hear one more word out of you I won’t be held responsible of my actions." At this Hermione reached out and grabbed Greg’s hand; forced it open and slammed the letter down into it. The second Greg’s and Hermione’s hands were both in contact with Dumbledore’s letter, Hermione’s eyes widened in shock; and Greg, realizing what was happening, opened his mouth to scream "NO," when they both vanished simultaneously from the lab.
A few minutes later, the door opened slightly and a woman poked her head in asking, "Greg, I was wondering if you’d gotten the results off that hair I gave you …" She trailed off, looking around the notably deserted room, thinking ‘huh, must’ve cut out early.’ She walked over to the desk and began rifling through the papers, searching for her test results. "So, Greg," Sara said before entering, ‘tell me about you’re new friend." Having told off Nick, and had a quick shower, Sara felt her temperament had vastly improved. She was almost prepared to give mystery girl, Hermione Granger the benefit of the doubt. Entering the room, Sara noticed the absence of Greg and the girl, and the presence of Catherine. "Where’s Sanders?" Sara questioned the older woman. "Vanished," Catherine Willows, deadpanned. "Very funny," Sara said, her voice heavily laced with sarcasm. ‘That’s odd, radio’s on,’ Sara walked over to the radio and was about to turn it off when she noticed the full cup of coffee sitting of to one side.
Sara picked up the cup tentatively, half expecting Greg to jump out at her and warn her away from his sacred brew. She took a small sip and grimaced. The coffee burned as it traveled down her throat, releasing a strong shot of caffeine in it’s wake. "This coffee’s still hot," Sara observed. Catherine just shrugged her shoulders, deeply absorbed in trying to interpret the findings without Greg’s help. Her suspicious instincts kicking into overdrive, Sara turned and regarded the room, searching for anything else out of place. Looking over at the doorway, she noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor. Crouching down beside it, she quickly identified it as the parchment that girl had been holding earlier. While down there, Sara noticed something far more sinister. "Cath," she said, "there’s blood on the floor."
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