Apprentice Potter
Epilogue
By Draco664
Epilogue
The next year and a half passed quickly. The official story of how Voldemort met his end was never really formalised. The Ministry set up and ran three inquiries (two formal, one independent) in the first nine months, each coming up with a different scenario detailing Voldemort's downfall. The fact that Voldemort's wand had disappeared stirred the conspiracy theory pot quite satisfactorily, but the fact that every person who had a Dark Mark was now a pile of ash was fairly convincing to the rest of the population that Voldy was gone.
Out of the public eye as I was, I loved it. I was permitted to visit Hogsmeade each time there was a Hogsmeade weekend, and I got to go shopping in Diagon Alley at least once a month. Despite only seeing my friends occasionally, learning from someone who both respected me and who was not impressed with the 'Boy-Who-Lived' nonsense was a pleasure. We progressed steadily with our potion, and in doing so let me overcome my almost instinctual hatred of the subject.
Directly after the battle, George recovered quickly, as did a great many of the wounded students. Those who had become amputees often wore their loss like a badge of honour. Most opted for replacements like Professor Moody, but some, like Colin in particular, refused to accept any artificial limbs. The respect the students and residents of Hogsmeade showed those students was both sincere and heart-warming.
Each time I went on a Hogsmeade weekend, I visited the memorial on the edge of Hogsmeade to those who had fallen, erected on the very spot Voldemort wanted to execute me. It was simple, yet beautiful; a marble fountain, continually jetting softly glowing water. When you looked in the pool at the base of the fountain, you could see the reflections of the fallen. Without exception, from Cho to Grawp, the reflections showed the fallen being happy and joyous, smiling and occasionally dancing.
Throughout the rest of the year, I visited and taught the DA, whose membership now extended to almost three-quarters of the school. It was the Slytherin Brunel who came up with a solution to the problem of overcrowding. As a brown belt in a style of karate, he suggested a similar ranking system. Eventually, the DA was running four nights a week, each lesson aimed at people of similar skill. Though it galled me to start with, when I taught at DA sessions, I only taught those who were the teachers of the rest of the members. The 'onyx' rings.
Inconspicuous rings were created for each member, which acted as both a membership token, and given a colour which showed your rank in the DA. While initially there was no formal method of rising through the ranks, (in the beginning, all you needed was three of the onyx-rings to agree the person should be upgraded), it soon became obvious that we needed to document the requirements of each level.
By the time the seventh-years' NEWTs came round, there were three student leaders (Hermione, Blaise & Ron), forming a triumvirate that ran the DA. There were thirty-one onyx-ringed student teachers, whose number had grown during the year and would fall sharply at the end as the seventh-years left. I estimated that once the DA had been running long enough to become established in the mindset of the students and teachers, that the triumvirate would be made up with only seventh-years, or perhaps one skilled sixth-year on occasion.
Individuals in the rest of the ranks below were encouraged to specialise in different aspects of defence, creating a great pool of knowledge within the association that could be called upon when necessary. The result of having a student-led body became glaringly obvious as six months after Voldemort's death, an unprecedented number of 'O' grades were recorded at both OWL and NEWT level in Defense and Charms.
Zab again began teaching me the unique spells and techniques he had developed while an auror captain and instructor, to the point where as my own NEWTs rolled around, he estimated that my duelling skill rivalled many of the graduating auror cadets. My knowledge of laws and procedure was completely crap though. Not that I cared.
We did discuss what spells in his syllabus I could pass on to the other DA instructors, which turned out to be most of them. There were a handful that he strictly forbade me from ever performing unless in a life or death situation.
Over the summer holidays, we had a pleasant surprise with the potion, discovering that not only did it enhance the natural defenses to produce fairly impressive Occlumency shields on the imbiber, it also enhanced the user's natural affinity for Legilimency. Blaise, who according to Zab had very little aptitude for either discipline, became quite closed-minded. It took a fair bit of effort on both Zab and my parts to break through the barriers the potion presented.
For some reason, during the month Blaise stayed with us, we were closely chaperoned; a fact that Blaise got rather vocal about several times. While she continued to refer to me as Hermione's boyfriend in public, she certainly wanted to spend some time with me alone. And truth be told, I wouldn't have minded either, but Zab obviously had different ideas.
Some of his ideas bordered on the edge of complete bastardry. As a punishment for Blaise sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, he had the pair of us muck out the stables.
Wizarding stables, that is. Hippogriff dung is sticky and smelly enough at a distance, but when you are knee deep in it, even scantily clad and in close contact, teenage hormones had no hope of overcoming the absolutely unerotic situation.
Blaise left a few days before the start of her seventh year, and things returned to normal at Zabini Manor. I felt quite satisfied with my progress, just a year into a two year apprenticeship, and I'd assisted in developing a new potion, had made great strides in my spell work, had become a competent dueller, and was in the middle of a thesis on remote casting.
It was nearly a year later that we finally finished, just month before I was due to sit my NEWTs. Much to Zab's displeasure, he had had absolutely no success in replicating the skill himself. He even disguised himself as a muggle with polyjuice and went to Ollivanders to try and get another wand with the same sort of connection that I had with mine. He failed, however; not even Ollivander's entire stock gave him a similar connection.
I spent the last month before my NEWTs studying hard, using Zab's, his two sons' and his multiple grandchildrens' study guides. With over seventy years of material at my disposal, I was able to work out what sort of questions had been on the exams in previous years, and what I could expect this time. At Zab's request, I sent a letter to Dumbledore, telling him that we had finished, and that we had a couple of things to present to the Ministry board of Developmental Magic. I was requested to appear a week before my exams.
I spent the two weeks of exams staying in Gryffindor Tower, both revising and catching up with old friends. I was amused to see the number of people sporting a DA ring.
Most of my year-level looked far more frazzled that I was, having fed of each other's nervousness. Zab had quite easily reduced my stress level by half, just by informing me that NEWTs could be taken again the next year if you failed. Judging by how Hermione looked, that single piece of advise was worth a good twenty hours sleep per week.
The written exams were both long and difficult, and a couple of Muggleborn students whose parents were masseuses made a profitable sideline of massaging the aching hands, wrists and forearms of the fifth and seventh years. The practical exams were easier for me, but then the practical application of magic was my forte.
Once more, I was called on to demonstrate my patronus. Even some of the students who had no idea what the stag represented to me were calling it 'Prongs'.
Oddly, while the exams themselves seemed to crawl by, once they were done, it seemed as though they had flown past. Ron likened the realisation that we'd finished to blinking in relief once your ears had popped when you went too high on a broom.
Hermione found that quite amusing, if not poetic.
Late in the afternoon of the day after our final exam, the three of us lay on the warm grass near the lake, simply soaking in the early summer sun.
"So, mate, what are your plans for the summer?" Ron asked.
I sighed. "Well, I have to finish my apprenticeship first."
"How long will that take?" Hermione asked.
"An apprenticeship is usually for two years," Ron answered for me. "But Harry here has the first one in about a thousand years."
I chuckled softly. "About fifty, actually, you idiot," I said casually.
"Meh, whatever."
Hermione giggled at our banter. "So you'll finish before your birthday?"
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "At least, if my teacher is satisfied with my progress. In theory, he could insist I remain with him for a while longer."
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Harry."
"Maybe, but then I've got to spend a few weeks at the Ministry."
Ron rolled his head over to look at me. "Huh? Why?"
I sighed. "Didn't 'Mione tell you how I killed Voldemort?"
Ron frowned. "No. She said that she couldn't tell me. I figured it had something to do with your apprenticeship, and that you could tell me later."
"Well, you did!" Hermione said defensively, before I could respond.
"I didn't think you'd keep it from Ron!" I said, truly surprised.
Ron cut us off. "Will you just please tell me now then?"
Quickly, I explained about remote casting. Ron took it far more readily than the Ministry Board.
I sat in a small room at a small table, nervously tapping my fingers on the surface. In front of me I had placed the potion sample, the book containing the recipe and notes on how we created it, and the thesis on remote casting. A little way in front of me was a long table with five chairs on the opposite side. It was too like a panel interview for me to be comfortable.
The door in the opposite wall opened, and five people entered, only three of whom I recognised. Dumbledore sat in the middle chair, and to my utter disgust, Snape sat on my far left. To my even further disgust, Malachi sat between them. An elderly witch and a fat wizard took up the remaining seats on my right.
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore greeted in an oddly formal manner. "I understand that you have developed a new potion, and some new method of casting magic."
I snorted softly. "So you did read the letter I sent you."
Snape stood. "Show some respect, you little brat!"
"Severus!" Dumbledore barked, sounding more than a little weary.
"Why do you continue to tolerate him?"
I barked a short burst of sarcastic laughter. "The same could be said of you, you know. Why does he continue to tolerate your blatant favouritism?"
Snape's face reddened quickly, and Malachi to his left narrowed his eyes at me, but the witch and wizard to Dumbledore's left struggled to hide smiles.
Dumbledore slammed his hand down on the table and rose to his feet. "Enough, the pair of you! Must you antagonise each other every time you enter the other's presence?" he asked, sounding exasperated.
Snape remained staring furiously at me, but I just shrugged. "I simply responded to him, old man. If he doesn't talk to me, I'll be more than happy not to talk to him."
Dumbledore sat down slowly. "Unfortunately, in this instance, that is impossible. As one of the Ministry's Potion Masters, he is required to review all newly developed potions."
I shrugged and drew my wand. "Fine. Here is the sample, and the recipe," I said, gently levitating the items over in front of Snape. "You would have read the report I sent the Headmaster, what are your initial thoughts?" I sat back and waited for the vitriol to come.
Snape didn't disappoint. "The process was inelegant, taking far too many steps, you missed more than a dozen separate clues to what combination of reagents to try next, and even the final result could be made far more easily and with less expensive ingredients."
I nodded my acceptance of his critique. After all, Zab wasn't a natural in potion making; it was likely that he would take more steps than necessary. And he *was* thorough in his testing to the point of almost being anal retentive, repeating many tests if he wasn't completely sure of the results. Not to mention the fact that his wealth meant that price took second place compared to availability when it came to potion reagents.
"And the bad news?" I asked.
The sprightly, grey-haired witch to Dumbledore's left cleared her throat. "Severus, I do think you are being a bit harsh there. The steps taken were pedestrian, I'll grant you, but in all good conscience, I could not make the same criticisms unless the potion had been developed by another Master, or at least someone submitting a work for which they would attain the rank of Master. They are quite acceptable for someone quite proficient at the art of Potions."
Snape gave the witch a look which suggested that he'd swallowed some of Neville's first potions, but I didn't let him speak up. "Well, the person who took me on as an apprentice is not a natural at potions, but he does get there in the end."
Snape snapped his head around. "This isn't solely your work?" he spat, looking rather gleeful.
I shook my head. "Of course not. My contribution was peripheral at best. I noted everything I did in the journal in front of you."
"Then why is it only your name on the application?" Snape said, his dark eyes glittering with barely concealed hatred. "Claiming the work of others for yourself?"
This time, even Snape's apparent ally Malachi frowned as the other three voiced their disapproval loudly.
"Really, Severus, there was no need for that! Albus briefed us that one of the potion's creators preferred to remain anonymous," said the witch.
"Indeed," rumbled the wizard on the opposite end of the table from Snape in a voice like the prelude to an avalanche. The man had a beard so large and wide that it looked like he'd swallowed a bear and left the arse hanging out. "Does your professionalism always slip so?"
I sighed and tuned out, not listening to Snape's acidic reply. As much as many things have changed, some things will always stay the same. Snape's hatred of me is one of them. I can live with that. My pensieve is full of memories like Ron, Hermione and I casting Expelliarmus at him at the Shrieking Shack. Like me pushing him away at the twins' store. Like me tossing him around Dumbledore's study like a bag of rubbish. Ah yes, good memories...
"Potter!"
That brought me out of my reverie. "Hmm?" I blinked.
"Pay attention when we're talking to you!" Snape snapped.
"Oh, you're finished bitching and moaning, are you? Sorry, I was just reminiscing about the last time we saw each other."
While the witch and wizard to Dumbledore's left looked curious, Dumbledore was determined to change the subject. "Yes, well, regardless, we have examined your efforts and found them intriguing. A potion that gives the imbiber mental defenses would be of great assistance to those who face off against skilled Legilimens. But that it gives basic Legilimency skills too is extraordinary."
I nodded. "The most obvious use would be for juries, since at worst it enables them to better detect falsehoods," I started, looking with amusement at Malachi's sudden nervousness. "But use in auror investigations would be another application."
The interview continued in that vein for some while. To start with, I wondered if Dumbledore was in charge of the rubbish collection too, since he seemed to be involved with everything else in the government. But then I remembered my first Chocolate Frog card. Beyond being the most powerful wizard, he is also the pre-eminent alchemist of modern times. I suppose it was no great stretch to see why he'd be on this board.
It was decided that the potion be listed as 'rediscovered', rather than 'created'. Over both my and Snape's objections, credit was given to 'Potter and other'. While I wouldn't mind my name being associated with assisting in the potion's discovery, I didn't want to be listed as the primary researcher. Snape's objection was slightly more personal. I doubt he'd ever want to brew a potion credited to a Potter.
The second part of the presentation fared little better with Snape still in the room.
"Here is a thesis on the new form of casting spells I have developed," I said.
"You've developed, Potter? Didn't your Master develop it and you've just added your name for the glory?"
This time, I stared him down. "No. My Master does not have this skill. He has not read of anyone who has this skill."
The wizard with the large beard leaned forward, and laced his fingers together. "Just what is this new skill, Mr. Potter? Albus has been rather close-mouthed about it." He rapped the top of the thick tome I'd levitated over to him. "While I shall look over this, perhaps you could explain it for us."
I nodded. "We have called it 'Remote casting'. Essentially, when a witch or wizard has a close enough bond with their wand, it is possible to cast spells from the wand, while it is not held in the wizard's hand."
Only Dumbledore remained still. Snape openly scoffed, while the other three leaned back in their chairs looking disappointed. Again, Big Beard spoke. "I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that is impossible. There are at least two magical laws that premise breaks."
"Oh?" I asked.
Nods all round. "For example, even the simplest spell not only required an incantation, but also a wand movement. Without the correct movement, the spell will fail."
Snape's long lost twin Malachi scoffed. "Wand movements! Hah! The fundamental reason it could not work is because the wand amplifies the body's magical flow! Not holding onto the wand leaves the magic no where to go. The boy is wasting our time!"
I coughed to get their attention. "Perhaps a demonstration?"
Four pairs of disbelieving eyes greeted that suggestion. "If you can do this, I'll resign from Hogwarts, Potter," Snape sneered.
A massive grin flooded across my face. I casually tossed my wand towards him. "There. Pick up my wand and point it towards yourself."
"Harry?" said Dumbledore, not liking where this was going.
"Hey, he's the one who doesn't believe I can do it," I retorted. I looked back to Snape. "Go on. Aim it at your heart. After all, my premise breaks two laws of magic..."
Snape's eyes narrowed, betraying only a hint of his sudden apprehension. He glanced over at Dumbledore, who was giving his head a slight shake, a warning expression on his face.
Malachi snapped first. "Oh, give me that, Severus. The boy is trying to bluff you. Honestly, I've seen this a hundred times in the courtroom," he growled, snatched my wand and aimed it at his chest, a challenging expression on his face.
Hey, I'm always up for a challenge. "Everbero!"
My wand flashed an ugly purple, and a sound like the flat of a shovel hitting wet concrete accompanied Malachi's sudden flight backwards across the room. He hit the wall hard, bounced off and landed on the floor, rolling into a quivering ball.
The room exploded into shouts and yells of both alarm and surprise. Oddly, Snape stayed in his seat, but he had paled so much that the Bloody Baron would have looked tanned compared to him. His reaction went beyond realisation that I had been right. Looking into his eyes, I almost laughed. In just one instant, he had put it together so quickly. He knew exactly who had cast the spell that killed Voldemort.
"Young man!" shrieked the witch. "What on earth possessed you to use such a spell?"
I shrugged as Dumbledore and Big Beard gave Malachi first aid. "I'm sorry? Didn't you just say that remote casting is impossible? I wasn't holding a wand. Why on earth would you blame me?"
She blinked and gaped for a moment. "Well, I..."
I interrupted her. "Let's see. For starters, that spell is particularly difficult to cast wandlessly, so I can't have cast it from over here without a wand. It also requires a complex series of wand movements to enact, proving that the movements are not necessary for this skill. Third, it produces a particularly vivid shade of purple that is not common to any other spell," I finished. "Basically, you now cannot dispute that I can cast spells remotely through my wand."
"Harry, Julius has several broken ribs, and probably has internal bleeding. I hardly think that it was a suitable spell to use!" yelled Dumbledore, before hexing the door open and shouting for help.
"Surely that depends on your point of view," I offered in a soft voice, unheard by all. "I thought it was a perfectly suitable spell to use." Looking at Malachi, the man who tried to destroy my credibility, lying on the floor injured gave me a small sense of shame, but a much greater sense of justice.
Or perhaps vengeance.
Whatever. It felt good. Perhaps it was childish. Perhaps it was excessive. But I will no longer stand idly by when someone tries to ruin me.
Hermione tried hard to look disappointed in me, while Ron just laughed out loud. "So it was your spell that knocked the Dark Lord's block off."
I nodded. "Yep. My teacher poached a Death Eater's robe and mask, and managed to get my wand in hand and pointing towards Voldemort, close enough to me that I could cast a powerful curse. After my demonstration, they did a few tests, Dumbledore and Snape that is, and they discovered that the magical signature is not recognisable. That's why when I cast the spell after fourth year, the Ministry only picked up the Patronus, not the Lumos spell I cast first. Anyway, there are a lot of people at the Ministry who want to do a lot of tests on me. If there is a way to cast spells that don't show up on their wards, they want to know about it."
"So when will you be able to visit?" Ron asked, being as persistent as a fly invading a nostril.
"I don't know. Honestly. But it should be in time for my eighteenth birthday. I'm just glad that I don't have to spend another summer with Blaise.
Hermione perked up. "Oh? Why?"
I winced. "Um, let's just say that my teacher has a perverted sense of humour, and leave it at that, eh?"
Hermione jabbed me in the ribs with a finger. "I don't think so, Potter! Spill!"
Describing the hot, sweaty jobs Zab had us do together in small, humid, enclosed spaces that required us to wear minimal clothing made both Hermione and Ron red, though I'd guess for very different reasons. Once I pointed out that we were hip deep in smelly shit at the time, and about as likely to act on our teenage hormones as Snape would have gone on a date with me, Hermione finally got the joke.
We again lay in silence after that, just thinking our own thoughts. Once more, Ron broke the silence, with something rather profound.
"Mate, Hogwarts just hasn't been the same without you."
I laughed, feeling so happy just being near my friends. "Maybe, but perhaps the world needed just one more Apprentice Potter."
The End.