January — how much there is in this word! It awakens persistent associations with snow-covered expanses, windless calm, a bright blue sky, the sun, and ringing cold. Associations with hoarfrost on trees and how it falls in a snowy wave if disturbed. It is associated with sitting at home, warm drinks, and quiet rest.
It was in the form of such images that the word "January" found a response in my soul. Even the Elf shard, who in his travels wandered for several decades to the north, into the mountains and plains, glaciers and tundras — even this shard threw up similar pictures, albeit rare ones.
But here, in Scotland, even in the mountains, January brings absolutely nothing with it, except for the imminent start of the new semester, the start of classes.
Sunday, January first. Right before breakfast, Hermione approached me and informed me that she was waiting for me in the library today — I had promised to help, hadn't I? I had. So there was no shirking it. Of course, I didn't intend to shirk, but on the other hand, my thoughts were occupied with sadness for the "proper" January, which definitely wouldn't be here — through the windows, it was clearly visible how the snow was becoming less and less. It stopped falling right after Christmas, and the wind began to blow it away quite quickly, carrying it over the hills and mountains in an unknown direction, or the snow simply melted. Students no longer played snowballs with hands or magic, did not build small snowy fortifications to storm them...
When I sat down at the table waiting for the rest of the guys from the house, since only the upper years had arrived so far, Professor Snape headed from the entrance of the hall along our table. Stopping next to me, he looked, as always, neutral and stern.
"Stay after breakfast, Mr. Granger."
"Alright, Professor. And good morning to you."
"Is that a statement or a wish?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hmph..."
Snape merely grunted and headed to the teachers' table. My classmates appeared in the aisle at that very moment and saw the scene, but didn't hear it. So they quickly sat down at the table next to me.
"Morning..."
"Good morning..."
"Hi..." — they greeted me and other students in the house in different ways, nodding to acquaintances at other tables.
"Hi, everyone," I nodded to all. I wished breakfast would start sooner...
The Headmaster, who had appeared unnoticed by anyone at his place at the teachers' table, clapped his hands, and a variety of breakfast food immediately appeared on the house tables. Classic, nothing new. Justin, sitting next to me, snatched more buns from the common plate, simultaneously deciding to ask me:
"Did Professor Snape want something?"
"Perhaps. He asked me to stay after breakfast. Maybe something important."
"Maybe," Justin thought about something, piling on sausages and beans. "Hmm. Heh-heh..."
"What is it?"
"Just remembered... Gryffindors, and we ourselves, for a while considered Professor Snape the embodiment of evil, plotting against us all and dreaming of taking us apart for spare parts."
"Amusing," I smiled. "It seems you didn't think then that Dumbledore would hardly have hired such a peculiar character to work with children. Although..."
Thinking about it and imagining what influence Snape could have on fragile and impressionable minds, I willy-nilly agreed with Justin — he is the veritable embodiment of evil and a dark wizard. I wonder, are there really so few highly qualified potion masters in the country who could at least theoretically agree to the role of a teacher in their discipline at Hogwarts? But, if you think about it, why does a highly qualified potioneer need this? One must desire specifically to teach, or receive bonuses from the Ministry for teaching activities. Yeah...
"Hannah," I addressed the girl sitting opposite and discussing a funny incident in the Ravenclaw fifth year. Gossip, simply put.
"Yes?"
"What is the salary of a Hogwarts teacher, and concurrently, a Head of House?"
"Oh, I don't know. Sue?"
"I don't know either," the redhead shook her head negatively.
"Guys?" I turned to the boys.
"Nope..."
Looking around at the guys, I saw Cedric — he was sitting literally three people away from me.
"Cedric!" leaning back behind the backs of the students, I called out to the prefect.
Diggory immediately repeated my maneuver, leaning back a little.
"Yes?"
"How much does a Professor and Head of House get, all in one?"
"Hmm... Like the head of a middling department in the Ministry."
"Is that a lot?"
"Depends for whom," he shrugged. "Some will support a family for a month in more than decent conditions, and someone will blow it in two days and not notice."
"Thanks!"
"Uh-huh."
Returning to the correct position at the table, I looked at the guys.
"Now we know."
"Why do you need this?" Ernie looked at me with curiosity. "Aiming for professor? That might not happen soon."
"Want to understand. And how much can a Master Potioneer earn?"
"Oh, I know that," Susan perked up. "If you actually work, making a schedule for brewing simple and medium potions in bulk for supply somewhere, while taking orders for complex and extremely complex potions... But without overdoing it, of course. So that there is rest both daily and a week or two of vacation... Then a lot. Like, really a lot," Hannah nodded importantly. "I won't say in Galleons, but a lot."
"And if strictly on complex and very complex ones?"
"Not the best idea. Look, Hector," Susan pointed to a plate of oatmeal. "This is what you will receive always and in any case, working on bulk orders for simple potions. They are needed always and everywhere; pharmacies gladly use the services of private individuals in this matter. For a master to brew a huge cauldron of a simple potion is like sneezing. Might not even notice brewing it while reading an interesting book. But complex potions are needed rarely, but cost dearly."
Hannah picked up a smoked sausage with a fork and transferred it to her plate.
"And the sausage is a good order for a complex potion. It costs more than the oatmeal, which I got today, yesterday, and will get tomorrow. But you still have to manage to grab it. If you refuse the oatmeal, which you always get, you can remain hungry, having failed to grab the sausage."
"Ah," Justin nodded. "That's understandable anyway..."
Susan pouted in offense, and I poked Justin in the side.
"Could have just thanked her for such a creative approach to the explanation."
At my words, Susan smiled and was slightly embarrassed.
"For example," I continued the thought. "No one has ever explained economic models to me using oatmeal and sausages before."
Breakfast passed with empty conversations, and the girls told several rumors that I already knew thanks to the spiders. Once again, I was convinced that people tend to exaggerate terribly, modifying information passed from mouth to mouth — everything was not like that at all. But in general, the meaning is the same.
After breakfast, I waited for Professor Snape at the doors of the Great Hall. He approached together with Daphne.
"Daphne," I smiled at the girl.
"Hector," she smiled back.
"Interesting," Snape looked at us thoughtfully. "How you will address each other in another year and a half? But that's not the point. Follow me."
He turned sharply on the spot, his robe flared effectively, and he headed towards the Main Tower — probably to go down to the dungeons. But I was wrong — we were going up the stairs, which were now frozen motionless.
"Mr. Granger," the professor spoke without turning around and continuing the ascent. "How do you view an apprenticeship with a Potions Professor, a Master?"
"Definitely positively."
"Good."
Soon, after several flights of stairs and corridors, we reached the niche with the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office by a familiar route. Now this very gargoyle was not there, and the passage was open — a spiral staircase went up.
The Headmaster's office met us with the bright light of the morning sun through large stained-glass windows — every detail and trifle in the office was clearly visible: the spines of books in ancient cabinets; every dash and contour on a large ancient brown globe; every curl of the railing of the stairs to the second floor.
The Headmaster sat at his desk, leaning on the armrest of his chair and looking doubtfully at a large stack of papers and parchments. Seeing us, he showed no unnecessary emotions.
"Miss Greengrass, Mr. Granger... Severus. Come in, sit down."
"I'll stand," Snape answered meagerly, but we nodded and settled on two armchairs, looking more like very comfortable chairs. The professor stood behind our backs.
"Did something happen?" Dumbledore carefully examined us all. "I don't recall any incidents requiring my intervention. Unless the use of a dark curse in a practice duel, but... This does not apply to those present, and does not require punishment, but a methodical reading of lectures on morality and honor, as well as on the inadmissibility of using such things on younger students."
"We can discuss the moral character of my seventh-year student another time, Headmaster. We are here for a different reason now."
"Yes? In that case," Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. "I am listening to you carefully."
"I have expressed a desire," Snape continued to speak calmly, "to take these two talents as apprentices to a Potions Professor, a Master."
"Hm?" Dumbledore arched an eyebrow questioningly, completely parodying Snape. "Really, Severus, did you find in... how do you say it? In a brainless herd of sheep? Found someone worthy of such great honor as learning from the magnificent you?"
"Irony is inappropriate here, Headmaster."
"A debatable statement, Severus," Dumbledore smirked into his beard. "Really, no sooner had I reminded you that I can appoint a student to you myself, than you immediately found one, and not one, but two whole ones?"
Surprisingly, I thought I heard teeth grinding behind my back.
"Mr. Granger and Miss Greengrass are talented enough that I discerned it and took them as apprentices, even without your reminders."
"But agree, Severus, the coincidence is indeed funny. And how do Miss Greengrass's parents feel about this?"
"They approve."
"Do you have a document?" Dumbledore shifted his gaze from Snape to Daphne.
"Of course, Headmaster," the girl nodded and, taking out a simple parchment, handed it to Dumbledore.
The Headmaster immediately took it in his hands, unfolded it, and read it.
"Good. Otherwise, parents were the only thing I was missing... Dissatisfied with free tuition in a complex subject from a Master."
"Were there precedents?" I decided to ask a question that interested me a little.
"Of course," the Headmaster nodded and wanted to wave his hand, but froze in the middle of the movement. "Funny thing..."
Seeing the question on our faces, Dumbledore smiled.
"It turns out that professors haven't taken apprentices for so long that I simply forgot where the contract forms are..."
The Headmaster was thoughtful for a few seconds, but then perked up, completed the wave of his hand, and two folders flew out of one of the cabinets in the depths of the office, landing smoothly on the table in front of him.
"So," Dumbledore opened one of the folders and took out two thin parchments with the Hogwarts crest. "Fill them out. Severus? Will you fill in the data standing?"
The Headmaster gestured for another chair, and Professor Snape sat in it with obvious reluctance, picking up a quill and placing both parchments in front of him. In literally a minute, he filled in the necessary fields and signed two signatures without looking, handing one parchment to me and the other to Daphne.
We both decided to familiarize ourselves with the contents first. Taking out my wand, I pointed it at the parchment.
"Revelio."
Magic enveloped the parchment, but nothing happened, and no new lines appeared.
"Hmm..." Dumbledore looked at me thoughtfully.
"Trust, but verify, Headmaster," I smiled.
"And rightly so," he nodded. "Even if somewhat offensive to the other party."
Daphne followed my example, but her copy hid nothing either.
The content of the contract was extremely simple, but written competently, precisely... Specifically. The apprentice undertakes to learn and adopt experience, and the professor — to teach. Essentially, everyone should do this anyway, but the contract spells out conditions for additional classes, the schedule of which, as well as the complexity, are regulated personally by the Master, and the ultimate goal is the title of Journeyman before graduating from Hogwarts. Or, the Professor's assurance that he has taught the student quite well, but then — a check at the Ministry. If a lazy mediocrity is taken for training, then the mediocrity undertakes to work for the Ministry for a term equal to the time spent on training, and the professor receives sanctions — no reason to take just anyone.
Why work it off? Resources for training are provided by the Ministry, and if they went nowhere, they need to be worked off. If a Journeyman turned out — then this is already a result, and nothing needs to be worked off.
"This is a responsible step, young people," Dumbledore looked at us importantly, attracting attention. "Believe me, you don't want to work for the Ministry for free — there are painfully many..."
"Rotten bastards," Professor Snape finished the thought.
"No need to be so categorical, Severus. Although I am forced to agree — there are quite a few of them there."
"I can handle it," Daphne nodded importantly, boldly signed the contract.
"As will I. Can the professor teach anything else?"
"Anything," the Headmaster nodded. "Only spreading oneself thin in different directions is beneficial to no one, and therefore is not practiced."
"I see."
I signed the paper, and Daphne and I handed them to the Headmaster for signature. A moment, and the Headmaster made copies of the contracts in triplicate, and put the originals in the second folder.
"By the way," I turned to Snape, who was about to get up from his seat. "Professor, can you call me a responsible, reasonable, and mature mind?"
Snape arched an eyebrow in surprise, got up from the chair, and clearly did not intend to answer, but quickly changed his mind.
"Oddly enough, Mr. Granger, but you can be characterized in such a way. Even if something elusive, a slight recklessness, is present."
"Thank you," I nodded and looked at Dumbledore.
The Headmaster just smirked.
"I assume that is all?" he asked, and we nodded. "In that case, you shouldn't linger and miss the last Sunday of the holidays."
Following Snape, Daphne and I left the Headmaster's office, but the professor did not accompany us anywhere or anything else. He just stood by the niche with the gargoyle, looked at us, said: "You will receive the schedule tomorrow before the feast," and rushed off about his business like a black shadow.
"Speaking of feasts and banquets," I spoke as soon as Snape disappeared around the bend. "Tomorrow is the last day of the holidays. Trip to Hogsmeade, and all that."
"Amazing eloquence," Daphne smiled, took my elbow, and I bent it on reflexes alone, allowing the girl to put her hand on the crook. And so we walked along the corridor. "And what are your plans for this trip?"
"Walk, look, eat, buy, rest."
"Your eloquence is glitching," Daphne smiled, albeit not super brightly, but quite openly and dreamily.
"Digesting prospects and opportunities," I smiled, looking at the girl. "And even a walk along the cold and gloomy stone corridors of a medieval castle-monastery, arm in arm with a beautiful girl, cannot expel these thoughts from my head."
Daphne looked around, turned sharply to me, ended up close to me, stood on tiptoes, and kissed me quickly.
"Thank you," she smiled. "Without you, it would be very, very difficult for me."
"I promised I would be a good partner."
We reached the Main Tower, and hearing the quiet hum of voices, the noise of footsteps, and other signs of life in the castle, Daphne reduced the emotions in her face a little. Although she did not remove her hand from the crook of my elbow — but there is nothing special in that, by the way.
"So, let's go for a walk," she nodded, "look, eat, buy, and rest."
"Under guises?"
"Hmm... I think so. It will allow us to behave more openly. And pastries..."
It seemed to me, but a predatory light flashed in Daphne's blue eyes for a moment. The light of a predator-sweet tooth. And this could not help but cause a smile on my face.
"Daphne."
"Yes?"
"I promised my sister to help with her project. There is something grandly insane there, supposed to turn the world of magic upside down."
"Sigh... Muggle-borns..." Daphne sighed sadly. "Always wanting to 'turn over' everything."
"Know many Muggle-borns?"
We were going down the stairs of the Main Tower, and judging by the route, our goal was the Great Hall.
"No. It's public opinion. But listen, look, there are still enough of you at Hogwarts to draw some conclusions."
"And what conclusions do you draw?"
"Three types of Muggle-borns," Daphne showed one finger, the index one, with her free hand. "Coming here, they don't see anything point-blank except a fairy tale. Second," now showing two fingers, "try to become wizards in every sense. Third — revolutionaries."
"Amusing."
We went out into the corridor leading to the doors of the Great Hall, and there were already quite a few students in casual clothes scurrying back and forth in search of entertainment.
"No, it really is so. True, it seems to me," Daphne became thoughtful. "You can't blame them for this. Among the Muggle-borns I know and see their successes, only you and your sister strive to become wizards. Approximately the same proportions with us. Far from everyone strives to achieve something precisely as a wizard. Maybe later, after Hogwarts. But not now."
We entered the Great Hall, Daphne removed her hand from my elbow and turned to me.
"I'll go to my people," she nodded towards the house table, where many Slytherins were.
"To the library," I said about myself. "I wonder, will we ever do stupid things not secretly?"
Daphne smiled.
"Mom limits me in sweets. She says that even the most exquisite and delicious sweet, obtained without effort, when you can get it at any time, in any place, you just have to want it... Ceases to be exquisite, tasty, and generally, a sweet, becoming a mundane thing that does not cause joy."
"There is another position, that sweetness can cause addiction, and now you can't live without it."
"Wizards don't have problems with addiction. If they are even a little strong."
Daphne went to the house table, and I — to the library.
As soon as I reached the abode of knowledge and went inside, Madam Pince immediately cast a stern look at me. As soon as we exchanged greetings, I went deep into the library, looking for Hermione, and didn't have to search long. She was sitting at a table in the reading room, surrounded by a pile of books, folios, and parchments.
"Hi," I sat down at the table.
"Oh, great that you came," my sister smiled and immediately pushed a stack of notes to me. "Here. Problems here."
"And what do you want in general?"
She was clearly not in the mood to explain something in detail.
"An enchanted item allowing house-elves to freely receive magic from space, and not just crumbs directed at them from completed tasks."
"Ah, logical. Let's see what you have here..."
Taking her records and notes in my hands, I didn't notice how I immersed myself in work, occasionally thinking about plans for tomorrow. The walk might turn out to be really interesting. Or maybe not.
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