Harry was on cloud nine. His backpack, on the other hand, was weighted down so heavy, he had to regularly cast Featherweight charms on it as to not break the bag. In his hand, he held a letter to Professor McGonagall from Professor Snape. It had some very special news inside of it, something that even blew Harry’s mind if he thought about it for more than a second.

Inside were instructions to add two hours a week to Harry’s schedule, specifically for private tutoring in Advance Potions – all with Professor Snape.

Oh, but that wasn’t the most shocking of news.

It was crazy, but Harry almost felt like skipping just like Luna always did – but he held himself back, because that would look really weird. But he sure felt like it, that was just how ecstatic he felt. Instead, he wore the biggest grin that his face could hold; it hurt, but it was the best kind of hurt ever.

After spending nearly three hours figuring out Harry’s schedule – one for when Harry returned to normal class attendance and one for the current schedule – Harry and Snape had seemed to reach another level of understanding. It wasn’t as if they had said anything more. It wasn’t as if they had spoken deep concepts after Harry’s big reveal. They had only spent the time figuring out how to accomplish Harry’s career goal. Even so, there was something different now. Neither spoke it out loud, but when Snape had used the spell to check the distance, both had been shocked by its numbers.

Fifty feet.

It was strange that the closer Harry felt to the man, the more his freedom was given and the more his freedom was given, the more Harry wanted to spend time with the man, even if they were simple, quiet moments.

Because of this new distance, Harry could attend his Charms classes. All other classes were still out of reach, but it was the step in the right direction. Charms wasn’t until Tuesday, which was the next day. For once in Harry’s life, he felt like his week was going to be a fantastic one.

And the best part of the day was the fourth year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Potions class. No, he wasn’t exactly expecting Luna to sit next to him again, but there wasn’t any harm in hoping, was there? He really wanted to tell her about his new schedule, since she had been the first to believe everything would get better. If he were lucky, maybe his meeting wouldn’t go over during the class time; though, Snape had said it was fine if Harry couldn’t make it in time.

After all, the most important thing was to get Harry’s schedule finalized with Professor McGonagall.

The only unfortunate thing that Harry let himself feel sad about was the fact he wasn’t ready to share this newfound schedule with his friends. Ron would be appalled, hands down. He would have no understanding of Harry’s desires to be a Potions Master, and he especially wouldn’t understand the need for extra work. Harry could just hear the other boy’s indignant cries about overworking. But he’d probably also grab hold of the idea that Snape had ‘corrupted’ him and that nonsense.

Hermione would be ecstatic and more hopped up on feelings than a house elf in a dirty common room. She wouldn’t be unbearable, though. But Harry wanted to go about this as his own pace – and the pace that Snape required of him – than the one Hermione was usually skilled at.

Harry just wasn’t ready to have all that bombarded onto his shoulders. Ron would pout and leave him alone, while Hermione would hound him. He just wanted support, not either extreme.

So, he found it nice that someone else was supporting him – shocking still that it was actually Snape giving that support. Strange as it was, but for once, Harry felt prepared. Most beautifully, he felt he could see the future – a future where he could do something he enjoyed, one where Voldemort wasn’t involved or had his touch on in anyway. He was going into the career assessment with a game plan, one he could live with for the rest of his life.

Who would’ve thought that Snape would help him? It was crazy stuff, Harry Potter wanting to become a Potions Master, just like Professor Snape. It seemed as if the man had been pleased to offer the help. The hope that had budded so tentatively now finally blossomed into true, never dying hope – hope that filled every particle of Harry’s soul.

Even though they’d had a rocky beginning, things were really starting to look up.

Finally, Harry came to stand outside of the small office which Professor McGonagall agreed to use specially for him. As Harry stood outside the door, he took a deep breath, hefted his backpack on his shoulders, and knocked on the wooden door.

“Come in,” called Professor McGonagall.

With another deep breath, Harry opened the door. “Good morning, Professor,” he said, smiling. He glanced at a clock on the wall. “I’m not late, right?”

“No, not at all,” said Professor McGonagall, motioning for Harry to enter. “Sit down. In fact, you’re early. All the better.”

There was a sound in the corner. Harry turned his head slightly. There, in a small chair, sat Umbridge; she was holding a clipboard and smiling serenely – yet there was a dark light in her sharp eyes. Biting back his pride, Harry nodded to the awful woman, refusing to let her ruin this moment.

This was his moment.

“Good morning, Professor Umbridge,” said Harry, smiling as sweetly as he could. Professor McGonagall’s thin eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. His politeness seemed to win points against Umbridge. Her smile brightened, if only a faction.

“Come, come, let’s get on with this, Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall briskly, though not unkindly. “You have a class to get to after this.”

Harry nodded and sat down in front of the desk, where Professor McGonagall sat behind. Harry set his backpack down on the floor and fished out the schedule Snape had drawn up for him. With the schedule and the letter, he was sure Professor McGonagall would be in for a shock of her life.

“So, as you might have been told, we’re here to discuss possible careers you might be interested in and what subjects will be needed for such paths,” said Professor McGonagall, flipping through some leaflets on her desk. She set aside one, before she looked up. “Do you know what you want to do after school, Mr. Potter?”

It was somewhat unnerving to see Umbridge in his line of sight. It was like she was there, but shadowed secretly. The scratching of her quill was getting annoying, too. Through it all, Harry could see her bright eyes on him. He took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“Uhm, yeah, actually, I do…”

Come on, I can do this! If I can say it in front of Snape, of all people, I can say it here!

“I should’ve known,” said Professor McGonagall, a hint of pride in her voice. Harry, caught off guard, opened his mouth slightly. “Your father was an Auror, after all, so I’m not surprised—”

“Hem, hem.”

“—not surprised that you’d want to follow in your father’s footsteps.”

Professor McGonagall purposely ignored Umbridge, who gave that annoying, simpering cough again. Harry cringed. Whoa, that wasn’t supposed to happen. What was he supposed to do now? Would his teacher be disappointed when he said he didn’t want to be an Auror? He couldn’t just outright tell her no now, could he? And why’d she have to say ‘your father’s footsteps’ anyhow and with such emphasis? That’d just made it worse.

“Ah, Minerva, I wonder if I could say something.”

“I suspect you could, but you’d be interrupting.”

Harry could see Umbridge’s face tighten. The light in her eyes darkened. She leaned forward, her clipboard lying flat against her knees.

“I’ll be only a moment,” said Umbridge, laughing in that sickening way of hers. “It’s just, I was wondering… Do you truly believe that Mr. Potter has the temperament for such a career?”

Dear Merlin, the toad might actually have a use, after all.

“Well, my opinion and your opinion aren’t what really matters here,” said Professor McGonagall, her jaw clenched tightly. “It’s what Mr. Potter wants that counts.”

Hope flooded through Harry’s chest. Neither woman was aware of the conflicting emotions that were playing across his face, as both were now engaged in a rather testy argument – both now standing up, with Professor McGonagall’s height towering over the short woman. Harry ignored them. His teacher said that his opinion mattered the most here. That meant, she wouldn’t mind then…

“The ministry would never employ Mr. Potter!” shouted Umbridge. “He is too—”

“Elections are quickly approaching!” shouted Professor McGonagall. “One never knows what happens in such politics, especially when the current members of office are falling short!”

Umbridge puffed up even more, her chest out, pure fury in her features. She opened her mouth, ready to retort, when Harry thought that was the perfect opportunity to avoid the explosion that was sure to continue if these two women fought it out.

“Uh, Professors!” cried Harry. He shrank back slightly as both women glared at him. Professor McGonagall adjusted her gaze, however. He pressed forward, refusing to waver. “I don’t, actually, want to be an Auror.”

The tension instantly deflated.

Umbridge drew back, sitting down and looking smug. She folded her hands in her lap, absolute triumph in her eyes. On the other hand, Professor McGonagall looked startled. She regained herself quickly, however, and sat back down in her seat.

“I didn’t realized, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, appearing flustered. “I simply assumed…” She shook herself. She began riffling through the leaflets. “Well, then. What were you wanting to do?”

“I, uh…” Harry’s cheeks flushed and he squirmed in his chair. Breathe. He could do this. He had blurted it out in front of Snape. Just say it here. No one can take this away from you. Snape is with you in this. It wasn’t that hard. but trying to purposely say it again was harder than he thought. He took a deep breath. Then, in a soft voice, he finally said, “I want to be a Potions Master.”

The silence was beautiful.

Both women looked dumbstruck. It was a most satisfying sight to see.

“Potter… is this…”

“I, uh, wasn’t sure if I could do it,” continued Harry, not letting either woman say anything that could suck the wind right out of his sails. As he remembered that evening with Snape, he wasn’t aware of the joy that lit up his face as he spoke. “But then, someone said otherwise. Someone pointed me in the right direction. He said that I could do it, but I had to work hard.”

And there was more; there was so much more.

“He said,” murmured Professor McGonagall, marveling at the word.

“And I’d like to drop Divination now, if I could, and enter a third year class of Ancient Runes,” said Harry, pulling up the schedule and the letter from his lap, and placing them on the table. “I plan on taking my O.W.L. for Ancient Runes in my sixth year. I know it’s extra work, but I can catch up.”

“Extra work?” echoed Professor McGonagall, her mouth dropping. Harry continued on, ignoring her shock. Hey, he hadn’t been that bad, had he?

“And, and, well…” He took another breath. “I know what classes I need for a Potions Mastery.”

“A Mastery?!” exclaimed Professor McGonagall, now thoroughly stunned to the spot. Harry nodded, trying not to smile too much.

“Mr. Potter, I believe you’re getting ahead of yourself,” said Umbridge sweetly. Her voice took on a subtle condescending, yet instructing tone. “A Mastery, in anything, is very difficult. But a Potions Mastery? That requires four years of an Apprenticeship to a licensed Master.” She paused, smiling as if she were gazing at her young child, and delicately added, “It might be difficult for you to find a Master who would take you on. You might want to consider other careers—”

“Actually,” interrupted Harry gently, emphasizing each syllable. He paused. “I already have that taken care of.”

Umbridge’s eyes narrowed. Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, shut it for a moment, before opening it again. Her voice was strangely high as she next spoke.

“You do?”

Harry smiled. He pushed the letter forward, as well as the schedule. Professor McGonagall picked the letter up, opened it, and pulled out two pages, staring at them with shocked eyes.

“There’s a letter from Professor Snape explaining everything.”

Umbridge bolted to her feet and came to stand behind Professor McGonagall. She leaned over the woman’s shoulder – though it was difficult due to the contrasting height. Her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head. Professor McGonagall was in a similar condition.

“As you can see,” said Harry, his tone everlastingly light. It screamed sophistication. “The second page there is a document, which has Professor Snape’s signature signing his approval of becoming my Potions Master after I graduate Hogwarts. My signature is there, too.”

Umbridge grabbed the document out of Professor McGonagall’s hands and skimmed its contents at lightning speed, her eyes whipping back and forth. Professor McGonagall seemed to be in shock.

Harry put on his most regal smile yet. “So, you don’t have to worry, Professor Umbridge,” he said, ever so angelically. The woman looked up from the letter, her beady eyes wide. “I already found a Master who will take me on. But thank you for your concern.”

Umbridge appeared to have swallowed a practically nasty fly. Professor McGonagall swelled with pride. She looked down at the schedule, her wrinkled hands shaking slightly. After a moment, she took a deep breath and looked back up at Harry.

“Is this… This is real, right?” asked Professor McGonagall, disbelief in her tone. Harry laughed softly and nodded. The woman looked back down at the schedule. After another moment, she let out a breathy laugh as she exhaled. “Well, Mr. Potter. I must say that I most surprised. I don’t think I’ve ever been this surprised in all my years at Hogwarts. And I had your father and his lot causing trouble.”

Harry smiled, blushing slightly.

“This—” Professor McGonagall lifted the schedule. “—this is a lot of work, you know. You can’t slack off. You will certainly have to put in a lot of hours.”

Harry nodded. “I know,” he whispered. “But I can do it.”

It was certainly a defining moment for Harry. It spoke of a future. It spoke of security. The guardianship that Dumbledore had arranged for them had been forced upon Snape and Harry. There had always been the probability that it would’ve been dissolved.

But the Apprenticeship was something both of them accepted. While Harry knew he would have to go back to the Dursleys during summer after the spell was broken, after he turned seventeen, he would have somewhere to go. He could get his own place; he could be independent. But he would also have the chance to spend a lot of time with Snape, due to the Apprenticeship. He would have four years to learn about his mother. But he would also have four years to learn more about the man would had been a friend to her.

Imagine Harry’s shock when the man had suggested it.

“You can’t drop Divination and start another class whenever you like,” snapped Umbridge finally, huffing indignantly. She slapped the document back onto the table. “It just isn’t done.”

“What?” said Harry, glancing between the two women. “I didn’t realize—”

“Nonsense,” said Professor McGonagall briskly. “If Mr. Potter wants to do the work, then he’s allowed. He’s not the first to drop a class and begin another, and he’ll not be the last.”

Harry smiled brightly.

And just like that, Harry’s schedule changed dramatically. Divination was finally gone from his life. Ancient Runes was added. The extra two hours of week for Advanced Potions was added. It was a new beginning. It was like a dream. Professor McGonagall was beaming brightly, looking prouder than a peacock, while Umbridge was swelling up, like an angry toad. She looked more furious than ever, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Too bad for her.

“Have a good day, Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, giving him a genuine smile. Harry waved to her, before nodding to Umbridge.

“You, too, Professors.”

Harry walked out of the classroom feeling happier than he could ever really remember. Only two times came this close: his first Christmas at Hogwarts and when Sirius had asked him to come live with him. The crazy thing about all of it was being this happy about getting an Apprenticeship with Snape – it was crazily wonderful! None of this could’ve happened without the spell. Harry was going to have to thank Malfoy, though he was sure the blond would pass out from the shock.

Ah, well. That would be pretty fun to see.

All the hurt, the anger, the pain that Harry had harbored in his heart during the summer had all but disappeared. Who had that boy been, anyway? Harry couldn’t even connect himself with that boy. He hadn’t thought it possible to be this happy, to be at peace like this.

Luna had been so right. Snape had been so right.

Things were looking up. Nothing could bring Harry down now.

“Mr. Potter, just a minute now.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling slowly. No. Not even this annoying woman could ruin Harry’s good mood. He was not going to let her. Thus, Harry opened his eyes, put on the most polite smile he could, and turned around.

“Yes, Professor?” asked Harry, the epitome of the perfect student. “You wanted something?”

Umbridge gazed at him with disappointment in her eyes, as if she were looking upon some wayward student that she needed to save.

“Yes, I am concerned about your academic welfare, Mr. Potter,” said Umbridge, sighing and shaking her head. “You’ve been missing so many classes, I’m surprised that none of your other teachers have noticed and taken action about it.”

What?

“I’m not sure I follow, ma’am,” said Harry, the pure happiness slowly fading. He swallowed. “I’ve been in Potions classes every day, since I can’t be very far from Professor Snape. You’ve heard, haven’t you? Professor Snape told you we had been cursed, so I can’t be very far from him. I’ll be able to go to Charms to—”

“Mr. Potter,” snapped Umbridge, overriding him sharply with her high, prim voice. Then, her tone suddenly softened. “This is no excuse. You’ve missed two classes in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not to mention your other subjects as well. Your misconduct is…” She shook her head, exhaling softly. “It’s simply not acceptable behavior.”

What is happening? What is she playing at?

“But the other Professors are aware of the situation,” said Harry, a knot building in his stomach. “They were told I couldn’t attend their classes until the spell was broken. You’ve just seen my schedule and the schedule that I’ll have when the spell is broken. I’ve been doing the missed work, though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The woman simpered softly, tsking once beneath her breath. She shook her head. “Mr. Potter, you mustn’t expect special treatment.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re like any other student, aren’t you?”

Harry slowly nodded, the fear, the pain both rising in his heart – he’d never been treated like a normal student.

“Just because of your infamous past, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be treated the same as the others,” said Umbridge, her voice horribly soft. If she were saying anything else, it could’ve been taken as maternal. “In fact, it’s all the more important for you to be treated like a normal boy.”

This wasn’t normal.

Umbridge sniffed, her expression lifting up in a troubled, almost saddened manner, as if her next decision was very difficult.

“I think…” The woman paused, letting out a low breath. “…that another week of detention will do you some good. We will, of course, have to work around your class schedule. Severus is in a class right now, isn’t he? Yes, I think we have time to do a session right now.”

Harry couldn’t breathe. He stared at this short, plump woman, praying this wasn’t happening now – not after the happiness he had experienced just now. No, this couldn’t be happening. He was going to be a Potions Master someday. He was going to do something that he wanted for once in his life – and not because his father or mother had been good at it. No. Oh, no, he was not going to let this woman suck out what little happiness Harry had obtained.

Was this woman really a Dementor in disguise?

“Luckily, I carry the right quills with me for moments such as these.”

Right. That was luck. Certainly not a curse.

Umbridge motioned to the nearest classroom, which was adjacent to the classroom where Harry’s new schedule had been planned with Professor McGonagall. No, he would play her game, but she could take this away from him. Numbly, Harry hoisted his backpack a little more onto his shoulder, turned, and entered the room without another word.

Umbridge followed after him and the door closed with a resounding snap.