Dark Raven, Black Claw

The boy smiled grimly. The potion was nearly done. Only a few more minutes, and it'd be ready.

He skimmed through the recipe again. Yes, he'd gotten everything correct. Not that that was hard, it was such a simple potion!

He laughed aloud. Such a simple potion, and Professor Ravenclaw was afraid of it. Not of the potion itself, but simply of the knowledge of making it! Because of one lousy side-effect, she forbade all students from learning about it and refused to learn so itself!

"She's wrong, though," he said aloud. "She's wrong! No knowledge can be evil!" He grinned, exhilarated, the power of forbidden knowledge coursing through him. "Everyone is just terrified of the so-called Dark Arts. Even Professor Ravenclaw!" He'd always looked up to the Head of his House. "But how can knowledge be evil?" he said wonderingly. "Knowledge is neutral. It's what you use it for that makes it good or evil. The real crime," he grew more sure of himself with every word, "the real crime is keeping it locked away with the excuse of it being evil!

The others, they don't understand. No one understands, only me. Everyone else will immediately start preaching 'that is evil, we may not learn it' as soon as I even mention the 'Dark Arts'. And those Slytherin boys, that Malfoy and his cronies..." he wrinkled his nose. "They understand least of all. Whenever I tell them I've discovered a new poison, a new curse, all they can think of is how they can use it to their own benefit! They don't understand that knowledge is valuable in itself, simply because it is and not because of what you can use it for. Ah well, they have their uses. I could never have gotten so many books out of the Restricted Section without them."

The boy smiled again. The potion was done. It was rather harmless, actually, only with one unfortunate side-effect. And he wasn't going to use it or anything. But this was the first time he'd actually made one of the many forbidden potions he'd read about. "Looking at this, you'd never think it was classified as evil and dangerous." The potion was watery and grey in color. The boy sniffed at it, then wrinkled his nose... it smelt of wet socks. But even the complete simplicity of the potion couldn't lessen his delight. He'd made a forbidden potion, and nothing had happened. Not that he'd rationally thought anything would, he'd prepared this for quite a while now. But somehow, there'd always been the nagging fear in the back of his mind that Professor Ravenclaw would pop up at see what he was doing. He shuddered at the thought.

Malfoy and his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, came around the corner. Malfoy grinned cruelly. "So, is that potion done now?"

"Yes, it is indeed," the boy said in a cool and clipped voice.

"And? What does it do?"

"Oh, nothing really."

"Nothing? What is the use of it if it does nothing? You were so excited about a potion that does nothing? I'll never understand you, Ravenclaw." Fuming, the three Slytherins stalked away.

"That's right, Malfoy. You don't understand. No one understands." The boy hugged the cauldron to him. "You're wrong. You're all wrong. There are no Dark Arts. You're wrong."