Mad Apothecarist

„I just don't believe in those creatures,“ whispered Hermione when Luna went to potion class. Twins were walking with us, as they had DADA on the same floor as we had Arithmancy.

„Come on, you believe that Henry has feelings – you should believe in things less unreal than that!“ George’s face split in a blinding smile – I couldn’t even yell at him, my mood ruined by the nightmare. I hate sleep.

“Fuck you,” I muttered what they expected from me and hoped they would say nothing more about it.

“What, did some of your experiments blow up without you wanting them to do that?” asked Fred with a small smile and jabbed a finger into my side. I hissed at him. “Got it, not willing to talk about it now.” More like ever. “Will you help us study for the OWLs? I forgot to ask yesterday.”

“Sure, if you want.”

“I might try too, just to see if I can catch up,” Hermione smiled and threaded her hand under my elbow. “I’m already a year ahead in reading material, but I’m not sure if I could get O’s – and I want at least most of my grades to be O. You got all twelve O’s and in NEWTs too, right?”

“Do I look like a common pleb with Es?” I snorted arrogantly. “I even got bonus points in Potions, Runes and Transfiguration for my ingenuity.”

“And when shall you take the rest of your planned NEWTs?”

“I scheduled it for the Christmas Holidays, but I shall reschedule it for the summer if my practical capabilities won’t rise to the level I want them on.”

“Let’s hope Lupin will end up as a good teacher, that would help with everything.”

“Oh, brother of mine, do you think – after so many years?” George leaned on his calmer brother with fake tears welling up in his eyes. “Good teacher? Don’t tease me with words so positive!” He hiccuped and then almost fell when Fred pushed him off of himself.

“Asshole.”

“Love you too, less handsome brother!” I couldn’t help but smile slightly. What a pair of idiots.

“Have fun,” I grinned at them and threw a potion bottle at Fred who caught it thanks to his usual sharp instincts. He pulled the cork out and sniffed it lightly. “Into liquid?”

“That would be the best.”

“Which colour?”

“Weasley red,” my grin widened, my mood better than in the early morning when I tried to drown my memory of the nightmare in the shower.

“You have DADA tomorrow, right?” I nodded. “If he looks like a Weasley, he was good – if he looks like a Smurf, he was horrible,” he pulled out his own vial. We exchanged wide grins and turned in the directions of our individual classes. What an exciting start of the year, right?

***

We arrived in the staff room, baffled by what was going on. Lupin told us that he wanted the introductory lection to be practical and that even though Riddiculus was a third-year spell, he knew we never tried it on a real Boggart with Quirrel.

I was curious what would be my greatest fear – I had no idea what it could be. Maybe a basilisk? Or the diary? Dead George, Hermione, Luna… Henry? Anyone else who I care about? Or would it be something different, something my subconscious mind knows but I would never think about? “Stand in a line, you will go one after another!”

I ended up in the approximate middle, with George behind me. “What do you think?” I asked him when Angelina made a scary-looking mermaid that swam in the air into a fish that flopped on the floor like… well, fish out of water. “Do you know what will appear for you?”

“No idea, Forge,” he muttered. “But we can make anything hilarious, so it shouldn’t be an issue. Right?”

“Let’s hope our genius hasn’t left us.”

“Henry DID leave us!” We giggled together behind our hands – people ignored us, this type of acting is after all usual for us. When it was finally my turn, I was calm and had a smile on my face when I faced a vampire with plastic teeth. It looked me in the eyes and changed into Henry. It screamed bloody murder, face contorted in pain because half of it was melting off – the longer I looked the worse it was. It looked horrid, but I managed to stutter out the spell and the scene changed into a dancing, singing Henry with a wide smile on his scarred face, headbanging into music only he could hear. His movement made some people snicker (and some shriek, because it reminded them of the ‘Burning Day’). Lupin was smiling, if only slightly.

George went after me, but he saw a picture similar to what I saw. I felt bad that Ginny wasn’t part of my worst fear. “Mr and Mr Weasley, could you please stay behind?” Lupin asked us softly and we agreed – after all, we need to make his hair ginger after lessons so good. We went to his office for the secretive talk.

“You want to ask-“

“-about our Boggarts, right?”

He laughed shortly. “It wasn’t difficult to guess that, eh?”

“We are just good,” George smirked and puffed out his chest, so I rolled my eyes.

“Why do you want to know, professor?”

“I knew his… parents before he was adopted. I looked for him for years but there was no Harry Potter to be found.”

“Why didn’t you talk to him?” Both of us were surprised – why didn’t he say something yesterday?

“It was a difficult day and situation – I plan on introducing myself tomorrow after his lesson finishes.” I hope so for his own good because if he says nothing, my mouth runs wild. “Was that real? The scene?”

“Yes but we promised not to talk about it to people we don’t know – headmaster doesn’t want it to spread into newspapers and magazines. Ask Henry, he’s the only one who wouldn’t be sued by his father.”

“Duly noted. And thank you, especially for the potion. Will I turn green?”

“Flee,”

“Flee,”

“-We were discovered!”

***

An unknown owl flew onto my table and offered its stupid leg to me. I refused and stared it in its blank, unintelligent eyes. It made a hissing sound I mirrored, but made better and much more snakey – it wasn’t happy with me and hopped to Hermione, who was choking on a sip of MY TEA. Die, heathen, stealer of tea!

“Thank you, have a bacon,” she managed to cough out at the featherhead and took the letter. I let her open it. “It’s a response from Flamel. Isn’t it a touch late?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t even expecting one to be honest.”

“Why? You gave them a one of a kind stone their life depends on and you expected nothing?”

“I doubt they would give me their knowledge of alchemy for a stupid piece of rock.”

“It’s the Philosophers Stone! It can change metals into gold!”

“I have enough gold in my vault. Gimme the letter.”

“It also makes the immortality potion.”

“I know,” I ripped the piece of parchment from her fingers and scanned the text. What horrible writing… I know – pot, meet kettle. Also, it was written in some code based on runes. No thanks for sending him the stone, just a puzzle and I grew excited. My acquaintance with most of the runes was non-existent but that only heightened my enthusiasm. But what if the runes were just a distraction and he wanted me to read something else, something hidden? Or do I need to use a spell to open it?

“What did he write?”

“A love letter, I believe.” I put the letter in a pocket hidden on the inner side of my lab coat.

“Henry!”

“Let’s go, I was asked to come to Herbology a little sooner. And the DADA classroom is quite a walk away.”

“I’m excited about Lupin – after all, he’s still ginger. Do you think he will start with Boggarts like in the older years? I would think so, especially as Ridikulus is a third-year spell. I worry I won’t be able to create a hilarious picture, though. I think I might see something like a… T on a test or something! How can I make that funny?”

“You can burn it,” I offered.

“That’s not funny!”

“For you – have you ever seen a teacher after you make a fire in the classroom?”

“Only when YOU made one on the courtyard,” she smiled widely.

“See? Funny.” She giggled at that and waved at me when we went our separate ways. Susan and Hannah caught up to me a bit after that.

“How was your summer, Henry?” Sasan smiled widely.

“Boring, how about you?”

“How are two big tests in two months boring?” Hannah raised one blond eyebrow.

“They were boring, for the most parts. Simple.”

“I have an aunt in Ministry and she told me you had a perfect score in every test – I told her that wasn’t surprising but she said it should be!” Susan giggled. “Will you try for any masteries?”

“After I finish all the NEWTs I want to, then I shall start on them.”

“Will you be our partner in herbology?” Hannah tried to use puppy eyes on me.

“I have a feeling Sprout has a different plan for me, but if I continue normal school work then I shall join you if you wish so.”

“Have you seen Lupin? His hair is like fire in the morning sun!”

“Yes, twins slipped it into his tea,” I shrugged.

“Why? I heard he’s a great teacher!”

“Yes, if he was bad he would have blue skin.”

“What?”

“Mr Bundy! Come here!”

“See ya later, bitches. Hello Professor, what did you want?” I asked bluntly after leaving the two decent Hufflepuffs.

“I heard you already have your NEWTs from Herbology, is that right?”

“Yes.” Yesterday I was asked that in Runes and Arithmancy; Minerva talked about them too but she gave me a proposal that she can help me with practical Transfiguration every Saturday. “Why?”

“You have to go to the classes, but I can give you either extra-curricular work or something. I don’t want you to be bored – I know exactly what can a bored mind do, especially when that mind knows the Weasley twins.” I grinned at her widely, not even trying to act innocent.

“I want to get Mastery in Herbology, so we can work on that?”

She blinked rapidly. “Really? I expected Potions and Transfiguration, but not Herbology.”

“It’s part of Potions and I enjoy it so why not – I have two years before me. So, can I work on that?”

“Yes,” she suddenly looked ecstatic and ready to kill me with a hug. I stepped back. “Do as you wish today, next lesson I will bring you books of the appropriate level and after you go through them we can work on other things besides theory!”

“How long is it from the last student that did their Mastery under you?” I couldn’t help but ask, tone bland as was common for me but she was fucking shining.

“Fifteen years!”

***

“Riddikulus!” said the class together. This is ridiculous, are we some type of (bad) choir?

“Good,” said Professor Lupin. “Very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville.” The boy looked ready to fie on the spot, still scarred from the brief interaction with obviously annoyed Severus – he was reading something, I wonder if it’s a book for our weekly discussion? “Right, Neville,” said Professor Lupin. “First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?” He squeaked like a mouse but nothing human-sounding came out of him.

“Didn’t catch that, Neville, sorry,” said the professor with a small smile.

“Professor Snape,” he whispered and I laughed with the rest of Ravens and some Hufflepuffs.

“Professor Snape . . . hmmm . . . Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?”

“Er — yes,” said Neville nervously. “But — I don’t want the boggart to turn into her either.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” said the grinning professor. “I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?”

“Well . . . always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress . . . green, normally . . . and sometimes a fox-fur scarf.”

“And a handbag?”

“A big red one,” said Neville.

“Right then,” said Professor Lupin. “Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind’s eye?”

“Yes,” Nevile nodded and all of us were for sure interested in what the teacher is doing.

“When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape,” said Lupin. “And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry ‘Riddikulus’ — and concentrate hard on your grandmother’s clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag.” I imagined Severus in the described garb and started to cackle loudly – people made an even wider circle around me, but I couldn’t get the picture out of my head! Hat with taxidermy of a vulture is funny on itself but on the head of my minimalistic friend? I was giggling long after others stopped. The teacher was looking at me with a wide smile. Don’t be like Lockhart, don’t be like Lockhart, don’t be like Lockhart, don’t be like Lockhart…

“If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn,” said Professor Lupin. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. . . .” What do I fear the most? I don’t fear Soteria, even though I am a little reluctant to visit her. Is she angry I didn’t get her help right after the fight? Is she angry I killed Tom? Is her anger getting worse because I’m procrastinating visiting her? …but what else could I fear?

“Everyone ready?” said Professor Lupin. Everyone nodded and took out their wands. “Neville, we’re going to back away and let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward. . . Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —” The Hufflepuff was shaking, but looked determined enough. “On the count of three, Neville! One – two – three – now!” Wand movement and sparks opened the door of a closet… but Severus wasn’t the one who came out.

“Neville! Go to the other side of the classroom, you little incapable fucker! Does this look like a place for complete idiots with a lack of brain in their big fucking heads?! Touch anything and I will chop off your hands, you cretin!”

“R-R-Rid-“

“Oh, is the little baby too much of a dumb fucker to use a simple spell?!”

“R-Riddikulus!” Neville cried and made his Boggart change out of a lab coat into clothing his grandmother probably wears on a nearly daily basis. I do look good in green… but I fear hats are not a good look on me, especially ones with stuffed animals on them. And the scarf is atrocious – what is the purpose? It looks horrendous! (If the Boggart was smart he would continue screaming and would beat Neville with that heavy-looking bag over his head!)

There was a roar of laughter and people looked mostly at me, but I was ignoring them. Did I really scar Neville so much by just one session of screaming at him? (And I wanted to see Severus in that hat!)

Others were called to the front of the class while I still had no idea what I truly fear. There were spiders, snakes, werewolves, a banshee, rodents and many others before it was my turn to ‘shine’.

I finally came to the front of the class and looked the mummy in the eyes. It looked at me too, until they changed into the familiar mismatched shades of greenish-brown. This was the second time I saw myself in the class, but I much preferred the screaming one.

My older self was sitting in a wheelchair, obviously paralyzed judging by the only minute twitches in his fingers. He had a child sitting on his leg, another one on his left side (both looked scarily similar to the paralyzed man) and the right side was occupied by a blond female in a tight skirt and loving smile. She looked at me kindly and kissed the illusion-me on the cheek and my eyes moved frantically, but there wasn’t disgust in them. “Love you, husband,” she muttered lowly but loud enough for those close to hear.

“Bombarda Maxima!”

***

“I believe that was over-reacting, Mr Bundy.”

“Fuck – I never saw something so fucking disgusting in my fucking life and felt the need to kill that fucker. So I killed it with the first fucking spell that came to my fucking mind! Fucking hell. Fuck.” I was seconds away from lightening a cigarette, my hand shook like crazy but I was restricted to the teacher's office after we left the demolished staff room. Let’s say I ended the lesson for that day – not that it bothered me. “That was the creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Not a fan of blonds?” he smiled lightly – oh, you are asking for poison in your food…

“My fucking siblings are fucking blond – my fucking MOTHER is blond. So no, I’m not a fan of  fucking blonds,” I hissed out angrily. Then I went back over my words and clarified: “Neither fucking blonds nor blonds in general.” The professor laughed out loud. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I wanted to talk to you, even before the… accident. But if you want to talk about the fact that you fear having a loving family, then speak.”

“I don’t fear loving family – I hate the thought of idyll life. And being fucking paralyzed on top of that? I would turn even crazier!” He let me pace around, like a lion in a too-small cage. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

“Well, I wanted to tell you I used to know your parents very well – biological parents, to be accurate.”

“And?”

“Well, I… I feel bad that I never managed to find you after I came to Britain again. I know your new parents changed your name and it would be difficult to find you for anyone, but…” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued enough to stop my pacing. “I was a good friend of your parents and was sort of your secondary godfather. You used to call me Uncle Moony, but I fully doubt you remember that.”

“From then I just remember how my mother died – at least I think that’s that,” I shrugged. “And who was my primary godfather?” He turned slightly paler at the first sentence, the second one made it even worse. It made his scars less prominent.

“Sirius Black.”

“The one who escaped Azkaban?”

“Yes – he betrayed your parents to Voldemort, which is partially why he was sent to Azkaban. He also killed one of our friends and fourteen muggles in an explosion.”

“Explosion? Like a magical one, or based on a potion? I debated why would people expect him to go here, so I thought of one reason – which is the potion storage, filled with potential explosives if handled correctly!” He was confused and humoured – surprisingly not angry or disgusted about my enthusiasm like people usually are.

“I fear Sirius specialized more on magical means of an explosion. But your deduction is logical – people think he came here because he wants to finish his last job.”

“Which was…”

“Killing your parents and you.”

“…you have flair for the dramatics, professor.” He rolled his amber-coloured eyes. Such a unique eye colour. “Do you want me to call you uncle?”

“Call me as you wish, but only in private. Students might think I’m giving you special treatment.”

“I don’t mind, twins already think I have a boner for Minerva – Hermione says Severus is more of my type, even though neither statement is true.”

“Minerva? Severus?”

“We have a book club together with Poppy – have you ever heard about Clockwork Orange? I wonder if such psychological torture could change a person so much, even if for a little while! I guess it's kind of a Pavlovian experiment in nature… so, do you know it?”

“I heard about it, but never found the time to read it.”

“I enjoyed it, but after mother found out she strongly told me not to try to replicate anything from it. I think Severus and Minerva might find it tempting, they hate lazy students – and imagine how would they study if even thought of procrastinating would make them nauseatic!”

“I’m sure they would like that,” he smiled again – he does that a lot I noticed. “I heard they teach your favourite subjects?”

“One of my favourite subjects, to be exact. I also like Herbology, Runes, Arithmancy and would enjoy Charms if Flitwick wasn’t such a dickhead. I hate that fucking asssssshole,” I couldn’t help but hiss out. “I hope you’re a good teacher because I would like to know what it's like to enjoy a DADA class.”

“Well, I hope I am – can’t say I have many reviews! Are you going to take NEWTs in defence?”

“Of course – I wouldn’t under normal circumstances, but I need to to become a Healer.”

“Oh… you want to be a Healer? I thought you would want to be a Potion Master, or Spell Creator, or something… more creative. With much less… working with people, you know?”

“Why does everyone tell me that? I’m great with humans!”