Ginna had been right to tell him that he was more than ready for his examinations. He knew how to answer every question without difficulty, and in some cases, they seemed almost laughable. He felt no concern about his results. For the first time since Hogwarts began, he knew he was going to do well. And he was right; just as it had already become a habit, his grades were perfect, without a single flaw.
While the teachers spoke proudly about the elder of the brothers, they continued to comment on how, despite his best efforts, Brian Potter showed no sign of improving enough to warrant moving him up a year. It was true that his grades had improved, but not to that extent. His improvements were seen as more appropriate to the fact that he was an intelligent child, albeit too self-satisfied and therefore too lazy to study. As they now demanded more from him, he had to study more, and his grades reflected it.
So, Harry began his seventh year at only thirteen years old, something that no one in the entire history of Hogwarts had ever achieved, not even Albus Dumbledore himself or Lord Voldemort. And since he had completed the previous six years in just over two, now that he had to complete the final year in more than seven months, he had time for everything for the first time. He had time to catch up with his potions orders, to train at Quidditch, and even to simply enjoy himself with the rest of the students his age. He didn't feel the pressure that his current classmates complained about; after all, how could it compare to the pressure he had endured during the last two years?
It was during this period of relaxation, for it could be called nothing else, that the boy began to contemplate what to do after that academic year. Foolishly or not, he was on the verge of finishing his training at Hogwarts, and a decision that should not typically be considered for another two years, he now had to make.
Contrary to what many people might have said due to his youth, such a decision was taken very seriously. He initially asked Ginna for advice, but she merely confined herself to telling him that, whatever he decided, he would do it well. So he went directly to Remus, sending him a very long letter in which he sought counsel on how he should approach his future, having come to the conclusion that it should involve an apprenticeship.
Remus replied not long after, within a few days, and during that time, it was very obvious that he had given much thought to what he was going to answer. In the end, he chose to advise Harry that whatever he chose, it should be something he genuinely liked, as it would be what he dedicated his entire life to.
So the boy used a great deal of his newfound free time to ponder what he should choose. Many had told him that being a Seer, as he was, he wouldn't have to worry about what he would do in the future. Harry, however, knew better what he should do. No Seer profitably engaged in "seeing"; they only used their services to help, and therefore, he would still need to seek a profession.
It was after much consideration that he opted for a specific career. Now all that was necessary was for the one who would become his teacher-mentor to accept him. So, once his ideas were clear, he got down to work and descended to the dungeons, where he expected to find Snape.
Controlling his nervousness, he reached the door of his professor's office, and with a trembling hand and something akin to butterflies in his stomach, he knocked.
"Come in," the boy heard from within, and with a slight tremor, he entered. "Ah, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?"
"I should like to speak to you, sir."
"Go on, I'm listening."
"I'll be finishing Hogwarts soon, sir, and well, I had to consider what I was going to do next…"
"Are you asking my advice, Mr. Potter?"
"No, it's not that, sir!"
"Then?"
"Well, what I wanted to say, sir, is that I have thought about it a lot, and what I would like is… well, what I would most like to do is… I would like to be your apprentice when I finish the seventh year, sir."
"Pardon? I believe I misheard you, Mr. Potter."
"I want to be a Potions Master, Professor, and I want you to be my teacher. I want to be your apprentice."
Harry watched as the professor sat back in his chair behind his desk and stared at him in disbelief for several moments. Then he got up and began to pace nervously, muttering under his breath and glancing at Harry.
"I will not deny that you are very talented, Mr. Potter, and that you would surely make a great Potions Master, but have you thought this through?"
"Yes, sir, I have thought it through."
"Are you aware that your father will not agree with your decision to become a Potions Master, and much less to be my apprentice?"
"I'm aware, sir, but I don't care. What my father wants or doesn't want is of no concern to me."
There was such anger in Harry's words that the professor raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was not difficult for him to imagine why the son diverged so completely from his father's desires. After all, how much neglect could a child endure before he concluded that he had no parents? And Snape smiled; James Potter was an imbecile for not understanding the gem he had as a son.
"Very well, Mr. Potter, I accept you as my apprentice."
From that moment on, whenever Harry had some free time, he spent it with the Potions Master, commencing what would be the preliminaries of his learning. During those times, the boy enjoyed himself far more than he could recall enjoying in any of his classes. Professor Snape was completely different outside the general classroom than the serious, terrifying character he displayed within them. Inside, alone, with the one who was to be his apprentice, there were no masks, no ill manners; there was only Severus, the Master.
Harry never explained to anyone outside of those sessions what Snape was truly like or how he behaved. He didn't explain to anyone how Snape would become so engrossed in a potion that he would forget about the rest of the world, nor did he explain how he had even seen him laugh! A myth among the student body that believed him incapable of an act as simple as that.
Snape, for his part, was surprised. The boy displayed an astonishing capacity for Potions. Astonishing, considering who his family was. His knowledge could be considered almost instinctive, a gift very few wizards possessed, and one that the vast majority of the greatest Potions Masters in history had. Snape himself had not attained an instinctive knowledge of the subject, although he came very close, thus achieving his mastery in very few years. How far could that boy go? It seemed that he would be able to achieve anything he set his mind to. That made Snape smile; what teacher wouldn't want such a privileged student? It always proved to be a source of pride for them.
In spite of everything, and whoever was wanting to do it, for the moment Snape did not immediately begin Harry's formal apprenticeship. Instead, he allowed him to have the moments of peace and relaxation that he was going to need during his seventh year. Snape was going to relish it when James Potter discovered what his son was going to do; his reaction would be priceless. Too bad Snape wouldn't be there to witness it.
That Snape was contemplating this was almost providential, because just at that moment, the man in question was about to read a letter from his son Brian… his favourite son, the boy who was destined to save the world from Voldemort's ravages.
Since the beginning of this term, Brian had begun to write almost daily about what was happening to him, especially since he joined the Quidditch team. Since then, he had written many times asking for advice on different techniques to play against various teams. It was also the only news James received from Hogwarts, since his elder son never wrote – not that he cared, to tell the truth, he rarely thought about him.
Curious about what Brian would explain this time, James opened the missive and began to read the adventures his son had supposedly had since the previous letter, and he laughed as he read them. Brian was so popular… just like him at Hogwarts. James was sure that as soon as Brian was a little older, he would charm all the girls. At no point did it occur to James that all those adventures and all those friends were lies; during the previous year, Brian had made too many enemies, and now it was not easy to rectify.
The man laughed and revelled in his son's fabrications until he reached the end of the letter that made him jump up and scream in rage.
"James! Why are you screaming?" Lily entered the room, wand in hand, ready for a fight against the Death Eaters.
"He can't do such a thing!"
"James, what's going on?"
"Read, and you'll see what your son has done!"
"Brian?"
"Harry!"
The woman looked at him blankly and then read Brian's letter. As she read, she could not understand what had provoked her husband's anger until she reached the end of the letter.
"Snape's apprentice?" But it's impossible; to achieve an apprenticeship, you have to have your N.E.W.T.s, and Harry won't have them until the end of the term."
"Well, you see that he does! I forbid it! Do you hear me, Snivellus? I forbid it!"
"What you want, or don't want, is not relevant," Snape said, his voice cold. "The learning process is totally autonomous between parents and children. As you know, many people in the past opted for an apprenticeship to get out of commitments made by their parents. Your eldest son approached me months ago with a request for learning, and I accepted it. There's no going back, and you know it."
"Come on, Severus, I don't think that…"
"No, Albus. There is no going back. We have both accepted the commitment, and although it cannot yet be considered official, it is impossible to cancel it. Harry Potter will be my apprentice, and his parents can say anything they want and more."