Harry Potter, Squatter

By Enterprise1701_d

Chapter 82

Harry sat in the rather comfortable visitor's chair in the Headmaster's office, said Headmaster staring at him in total silence from the other side of the desk. The new school year had started over a month ago, and as far as Harry was concerned, everything was going fine.

"Do you know why I have called you here today, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his voice stern.

Harry blinked, and answered honestly. "I don't really know, Albus." He hadn't done anything noteworthy, as far as he remembered. He'd even tried to keep his absences limited to just the weekends – after all, he had to keep up with his other studies or Miss Athena would glare at him.

Suddenly, the stern old Headmaster became a mischievous old Headmaster. "I promised you last year that I would instruct you in the art of alchemy," Albus said, grinning widely. "And I thought that today would be a good day to start, considering you have no lessons this afternoon."

Harry nodded, both in remembering the promise and in agreeing with the lesson plan. "Only Astronomy at 10 pm," he answered. "So I'd prefer to have some time for dinner between now and then. Other than that, I'm good."

Albus' grin widened. "I shan't keep you that long, my boy," he promised.

Harry nodded in acceptance, thinking how it wouldn't be the first time that he had a teacher who didn't stop.

His muscles twitched in remembered pain from Miss Zoë's last training session. He knew he'd pay for having teased her. Thankfully, she had, in the end, been merciful and not trained him into the ground.

She very well could. The Huntress was relentless.

And fun to tease.

His muscles twitched again.

Every now and then, he amended. Not too often. His body couldn't take it.

"Very well," Dumbledore said after a few moments' silence. "Let's begin with an overview of Alchemy."

Harry nodded again; he'd heard that Albus was a gifted educator and wanted to see for himself. Plus, he hadn't asked Nicky because Nicky would make fun of him again, like when he'd asked about Hammerspace. Positively charged, negatively recessed space-time indeed.

Albus' smile widened, obviously happy to be in his element once more. He stood up from behind his desk, conjured a blackboard, and started talking.

"Alchemy is an ancient tradition practiced throughout Europe, Africa, and Asia, with roots reaching back thousands of years. Although popularly associated with the goal of transforming lead into gold, the practice of alchemy is far richer, encompassing deep spiritual, philosophical, and scientific elements. In its essence, alchemy is the pursuit of transformation: of matter, of the spirit, and of understanding," Albus spoke, now in his element.

Harry nodded obediently, that made sense. "So," he asked, "what's the difference between Transfiguration and Alchemy? Both change things, right?"

Albus grinned. "I so love it when my students ask questions," he commented. "Especially good questions," he added with a mischievous grin. Harry grinned back, agreeing with the statement that Albus was a gifted teacher and deciding that he was going to enjoy these lessons.

"Transfiguration, by its very nature, deals with the shape of a thing," Albus explained. "I can turn a desk into a pig, but at its core, it will remain a desk." He waved his wand in the perfect motions, clearly enunciating the spell, and his desk turned into a pig that squealed as it raced across the room.

Obviously, Dumbledore didn't need either the motions or the incantation but had done them that way for Harry's benefit. That fact became even more obvious when the Headmaster muttered 'oops', and canceled the spell with half a wand-motion and no incantation. The desk now sat at the other side of the room, causing Harry to look at it and grin at Albus.

The Headmaster grinned back, waved his wand, and levitated his desk back. "I did not think that properly through," he admitted. "Anyway, the desk looked like a pig, moved like a pig, and sounded like a pig – and yet, it was not a pig. If I had not done anything, it would have reverted after a couple of hours, and if you had tried to make a meal out of it, you would have found the flesh to taste like a desk. Of course, you would also have the adverse reaction of someone having just taken a bite out of a desk as well."

"Interesting," Harry said, nodding to himself. That made a lot of sense.

"Alchemy, on the other hand, deals with changing a thing's nature. Using Alchemy, I can, indeed, transmute one thing into another and have it stay that way – it can even be used as the new thing, and perform as such." He picked up a trinket, and waved his wand. Performing wand-motion and spell again, and the trinket changed into a goblet filled with pumpkin juice.

"Would you care to drink this pumpkin juice?" Albus asked.

"No thank you," Harry replied immediately. "First, because your lesson already stuck and it will probably taste like the trinket you transfigured it from. And second, even if it didn't, it will still taste like pumpkin juice."

Albus burst out laughing. "Indeed, indeed," he answered. "I thought a more practical example to be called for and prove my statements, but it seems that you are both an attentive and a trusting student."

Harry blinked, not even having considered that Albus could be lying to him. To him, a teacher's position was sacrosanct, and to even consider that one could be LYING… A teacher could be wrong, a teacher could fail, but to have a teacher outright lie – that wasn't something he would be able to forgive.

Albus laughed softly. "Do not worry about it, my boy. I will not abuse your trust."

The silent not ever again went unsaid as Harry remembered the man's misdeeds. He'd forgotten, even if for only a moment.

Albus really was a gifted teacher.

The Headmaster waved his wand and turned the goblet back into a trinket. "So, perhaps a bit of history before we get started on the nitty-gritty, hm?" he asked, breaking the mood. Turning to his blackboard, he started writing as he talked.

"The origins of alchemy can be traced to the early civilizations of Egypt and Mesopotamia. The term 'alchemy' itself likely derives from the Arabic 'al-kīmiya', which in turn comes from the Greek 'khemeia', meaning 'the art of transmutation'. In ancient Egypt, practitioners developed techniques for metalworking, dyeing, and embalming, many of which later influenced alchemical methods," the Headmaster said, momentarily stopping his writing and turning to look at Harry to see if he was following.

The Son of Tyche was listening intently; he'd expected esoteric teachings passed down from Marduk to Nicky to Albus, but instead he got a rather interesting history lesson. It seemed like Albus didn't just study under Nicholas.

"During the Hellenistic period, Egyptian alchemical practices merged with Greek philosophy, particularly ideas from Plato and Aristotle. The city of Alexandria became a major center for alchemical study, where the blending of Egyptian practical knowledge with Greek metaphysical concepts began to form the classical alchemical tradition," Albus explained.

Harry nodded again, it definitely sounded like he was going to learn some very interesting tricks. While he didn't really use magic like everyone else, his abilities let him do pretty much anything and everything – as long as he had the inspiration for it. And, it sounded like Albus was going to give him plenty of inspiration. In addition, the more he learned, the more he could do – and the more he learned what he didn't know. For a moment, his thoughts wandered to Greek Philosophy, dealing with the same concept.

Now, if only he could remember if it were Socrates or Aristotle?

He blinked when Albus started talking again, and vowed never to ask Miss Athena – she would glare at him for messing up his Greek Philosophers and give him extra classes.

"Islamic scholars preserved and expanded upon Hellenistic alchemical knowledge during the Middle Ages. Figures such as Jabir ibn Hayyan made significant contributions, systematizing alchemical theory and laying the groundwork for experimental chemistry," Albus explained. "In medieval Europe, alchemy was intertwined with Christian mysticism, and many European alchemists, such as Nicholas Flamel, Roger Bacon, Paracelsus, and later Isaac Newton, approached alchemy as both a scientific and spiritual endeavor. During the Renaissance, alchemy evolved into an important precursor to modern chemistry, though it retained its esoteric and symbolic elements."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Why the focus on chemistry? Isn't Alchemy supposed to be magical?" he asked.

Albus smiled widely. "It is, my boy. It definitely is. However, one cannot ignore the fact that chemistry as a Muggle Science evolved from Alchemical practice. It is a flaw in the Magical World that we take the separation for granted – the Statute of Secrecy didn't come into play until 1689. For thousands of years, magic influenced the Muggles and the Muggles influenced magic."

"I hadn't looked at it that way before," Harry replied after a few moments' thought, before looking at Albus and grinned. "And I'd really like it if you stopped calling non-magical people 'Muggles' – it sounds like an insult of some kind or other."

Albus looked surprised for a few moments, then thoughtful. "And I," he finally said, "don't think I've ever looked at it that way, either. I shall do my best, my boy. Very much so. However, I am quite old and set in my ways, so it will take some effort."

Harry grinned in reply. "An ancient philosopher once said 'Do or Do Not, there is no 'Try'."

The ancient Headmaster thought about the statement, and nodded slowly. "Indeed," he finally said. "A good statement on the nature of succeeding. Do not start something with an expectation of failure, because then you will fail. Wise, indeed."

Harry refused to laugh outright when Albus took the ancient and wise words of Jedi Grand Master Yoda to heart. Sometimes he couldn't help himself, and he made a note to remember this for the next Math's Party. The guys would get a kick out of the fact that he successfully passed a fictional character off as an important philosopher.

The Headmaster brought Harry from his inner thoughts as he turned back to the blackboard and starting writing again. "So, the goals of Alchemy are myriad," he explained, "however, the fundamental goals hold true across the various traditions. For example, there is the Transmutation goal, the most famous of which is the transmutation of base elements into gold – a process symbolizing perfecting and purifying matter."

Harry grinned. "And I suppose that using it to crash the economy by turning dirt into gold is a no-no."

Albus grinned back. "Doing so tends to draw unwanted attention, correct," he replied. "A second goal is the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, or equivalent depending on the tradition. This would both assist with the transmuting of elements and creating the fabled Elixir of Life."

"Like Nicky did," Harry said.

Albus' lips twitched. "I did write to Nicholas before offering to teach you Alchemy. His reply both agreed to me teaching you and included a couple of jokes at your behest. I am beginning to understand why," he stated.

"Nicky's sharp, but it's Penny who's the boss," Harry answered as if that answered the unspoken question. "She's awesome."

Albus chuckled. "Indeed, my boy. Indeed." He turned back to the blackboard. "Finally, one of the goals of Alchemy that tends to be forgotten is the goal of Spiritual Enlightenment and Personal Transformation – beyond materialistic goals, Alchemy is a deeply symbolic practice. The transmutation aspects were often seen as an allegory for the purification and enlightenment of the soul itself. In essence, if you become enlightened, then these things will come to you."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting," he said. "So it wasn't as much about turning lead into gold, but turning yourself into a better person?"

Dumbledore grinned. "Usually, greed won out. Which is probably why most people never got anywhere."

Harry had to laugh at that. "How about you?" he asked. "I mean, as far as I know, you haven't made a Philosopher's Stone, nor an Elixir of Life."

"Plus I had to give up most of my worldly possessions and my political and societal position in order to keep hold of my place as Hogwarts' Headmaster, so I'm not obscenely wealthy either," the old man stated, calmly and rationally. He knew what he did, and accepted the fallout.

"Exactly," Harry replied, accepting the fact that Dumbledore was trying to make up for his crimes. Plus, as he'd said before, the meddling had caused him to meet Hestia, and that almost made up for it.

Dumbledore seemed relieved that they were still on the same wavelength, and continued the explanation without referring to the subtext any longer. "I have never been concerned with material wealth, and people far smarter and wiser than me have told me that immortality is not all that it is made up to be. The Next Great Adventure is something to be welcomed, not something to flee from." He sighed. "I wish Tom had taken that lesson to heart."

"Tom?" Harry asked.

"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore replied, the name triggering an old and latent memory within Harry, a memory of being in the Throne Room at Olympus and watching Hades draw a soul from his forehead. "Otherwise known as-"

"Voldemort," Harry said. "That's Voldemort's name."

"Indeed," the Headmaster spoke, softly. "His fear of death is what caused him to travel down his dark path, causing ever more dark and immoral deeds."

"And, in the end, it didn't matter," Harry added.

"Correct," Albus stated. "What a waste. He really was quite brilliant at one point, but alas, time takes no prisoners."

Harry nodded, remembering his he'd once grabbed the box of his future self's wedding ring from Hammerspace, and the warning against playing with time and the statement that only Marduk could get away with it.

Because Marduk was Marduk, of course.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Let me give you a small overview of the different cultures of alchemy – other than the ones in the West that we've been discussing so far," Dumbledore said at last. "I will then let you go."

Harry nodded and shifted in his seat. It definitely seemed like the Headmaster hadn't just studied under Nicky.

"Various traditions evolved around the world," the old man spoke. "Some are related to the Western tradition, but some are not. For example, in the Chinese tradition, Alchemy is part of Daoist practices, and is focused mostly on achieving physical immortality through various elixirs. These elixirs are based around the concept of Yin and Yang, as well as the five phases of wood, fire, earth, metal, and water, in an effort to achieve harmony and balance."

Harry hmm-ed. "So, in essence, the Elixir of Life, but through different means?"

"The end result would be similar, yes," Albus said, "The theological backgrounds are very different, however, and while Chinese traditions did study the transmutation of elements, the focus was mainly on achieving immortality – in their case, in the form of a pill. They wished to achieve a higher mental-spiritual level, and achieve immortality that way. We'll discuss it more in-depth in later lessons."

The Son of the Tyche nodded, that sounded good to him.

"The Rasa Shastra tradition in India is another alchemic tradition," Albus explained. "Indian alchemy combined spiritual and medicinal goals, seeking not only material transformation but also physical health and spiritual liberation. Their focus lies with purifying minerals, metals, and other substances, and mixing them with herbs in order to treat illnesses, either physical or mental."

"So, not as much immortality as just very good medicine, either for your body or for your spirit," Harry said.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "In fact, this tradition exists to this day in Ayurvedic Medicine."

"That's interesting," Harry said. "So it's actually still used to treat people to this day?"

Dumbledore grinned. "It is indeed," he replied. "Now, unless you have any further questions, I shall let you go. We've covered quite a bit today, and I should give you some time before dinner."

Harry grinned and stood up. "Thanks for an interesting lesson, Albus. I learned quite a bit."

Albus smiled widely. "Then it was time well spent. There is nothing an educator likes more than an attentive pupil willing and able to learn."

Harry waved goodbye, both to the Headmaster and to the Headmaster's pet Phoenix, then made his way out of the office. He had some time to kill, and for a moment wondered what to do.

In the end, he decided on visiting his favorite Hogwarts location – the Enchanted Forest.

Once more, he didn't even need to introduce himself before the Genius Loci of the Forest welcomed him, causing a wide smile to break out on his face.

He loved this forest.

For half an hour or so, he merely wandered through it, never once losing his balance, never once tripping over a branch or a root, and always perfectly aware of where he was.

When he emerged in a small clearing, he stopped in the middle of it. He just wanted to exist for a while, and could think of nothing better than to join his magic to the Forest's, and literally make like a tree for a while.

"Can you give me a nudge in an hour or so?" he asked the Genius Loci.

He got a complex response from the Forest that felt like both an agreement and a follow-up question.

Translation: the Forest was more than willing to give him a nudge, if he could explain what an 'hour' is.

Harry chuckled. Of course a nature spirit wouldn't have an idea about human time-keeping. He replied back with an 'its complicated' and a request to forget his question.

Drawing a deep breath, he turned his face to the sun, closed his eyes and just… existed.

Opening himself up to the magic of the world around him, his being merged with the existence of the forest.

Located where he was, in a small clearing in the woods, he raised his branches and spread his leaves to the sun, feeling his roots dig in the fertile soil in a search for water and nutrients.

It was incredibly peaceful and completely relaxing. A plant did not know the concept of stress, worry, or expectations. It just needed water, nutrients, and sunlight. For the moment, Harry basked in its existence.

Suddenly, a chill went through him and he returned to his own existence. Not opening his eyes, he realized that the sun had dipped below the treeline and Scotland in late September was chilly without sunlight. He lowered his arms, and felt that he'd somehow kicked off his shoes and socks and his bare feet were flat on the moist ground.

He snickered for a moment, realizing he'd dug deeper into being a plant than he'd ever done before, and opened his eyes to look for his shoes and his socks.

He almost yelped in surprise when he found the small clearing invaded by a heard of unicorns.

The Genius Loci, apparently, found his shock amusing.

"Ehm," Harry told the gorgeous animals, which in hindsight wasn't his most eloquent response. Slowly, he sat down to put his socks and shoes back on. The herd continued to watch him.

"I'm… just… going to back away and pleasedon'tgoremewiththosesharphorns," he babbled. The herd looked… amused.

"And you guys can completely understand me and are just messing with me, aren't you?" he asked, immediately put at ease.

The lead unicorn neighed in amusement. Harry pulled on Hestia's domain and conjured an apple. "Well, let me see if you guys are hungry," he said, holding the piece of fruit out.

The lead unicorn suddenly eyed him, as if sizing him up to become a pincushion for that vicious-looking horn on her forehead. Harry froze, suddenly nervous. He knew enough about the magical world that one should never harm a unicorn, lest a horrible curse befell the perpetrator.

And so, he hoped to be able to run for it should the unicorn attack. Only female virgins could approach a unicorn, and for a moment Harry thought that they would get along fabulously with Artie and her Hunters. The next moment, his thoughts blinked back to his current predicament, making him worry that offering a unicorn a treat was a mistake.

The lead unicorn neighed again, cautiously approached, and took the apple from his open hand using a pair of really strangely prehensile lips.

It then ate the fruit, seemed to taste it for a moment, before accepting the offering as acceptable. Harry grinned, and slowly reached out. He took his time, making sure that the unicorn could move away if it wanted to.

It didn't move. He touched its neck. "You are beautiful," he told the beautiful creature as he slowly ran his hand down its neck.

The unicorn neighed and gave him a dirty look.

"I meant handsome. You're very handsome," Harry corrected. The unicorn neighed again, somehow managing to get the impression of 'that's better' across.

He chuckled, then drew on Hestia's domain. It took a bit more power than usual to create a crate full of apples. "Just in case anyone else is hungry," he told the herd.

They approached, and Harry had the impression that they were approaching slowly in an effort to tease him about how slowly he'd reached out to pet the lead unicorn.

He was being sassed by a herd of trolling unicorns. Trollicorns, if you will. He shook his head and resisted the urge to snicker. Will wonders never cease?

The crate of apples was soon just a crate, sans apples, and Harry made sure to vanish it. He wasn't about to litter the Enchanted Forest, even if a wooden crate was bio-degradable.

Bidding farewell to the herd of trolling unicorns, he left the clearing. He had to get back to Hogwarts or else risk missing dinner. Followed more than likely by the problems that would come from being reported missing for dinner. Having responsible adults around to do actual adulting was annoying, he decided.

He patted the nearest tree as he walked away from the clearing.

The Genius Loci patted him back.

When he stepped out of the forest itself, Harry turned back for just one more moment. Existence within the forest, taken care of by the Genius Loci, was a peaceful existence, and for just one fleeting moment he missed it and wanted to go back. Even if it meant dealing with sassy unicorns. They were pretty, sure, but he could do without the sassing or the trolling.

Only for a moment, though. He was a human, he had friends and family and responsibilities. He wasn't a tree, no matter how much he sometimes wished he could be.

He said his farewells to the Forest and made his way inside, where dinnertime wasn't too far away. Or maybe he'd already missed it. After all, trees and plants and forests didn't really have a watch with which to keep time, so he had no way of knowing how long he'd stood barefoot in that clearing pretending to be a tree.

He grinned as he entered Hogwarts. He was good at being a tree, though. Very good. But for now, he had an appointment with dinner. And after dinner, he had an appointment with some friends for an evening of fun and games.

Justin crouched and looked around in a pit trap at the end of a corridor. "Hey! I found a gold ring with a sapphire!"

Harry looked up from his notes, hidden behind his Dungeon Master's screen. "It's worth 25 gold pieces."

"Woohoo, loot!" Justin celebrated as he made a note on his character sheet.

"Alright," Harry said as dice rolled behind his screen. "As Justin is celebrating, Meepo, the Kobold Inventor, carefully navigates around the pit trap and picks the lock and opens the door at the end of the corridor. The heavy wooden door slowly creaks open, revealing a devastated trophy room, with mounted and stuffed animal heads adorning the walls. The mounting is sloppy, and the assortment of heads includes things like cattle, rats, and other not particularly impressive specimens. Also mounted on the walls are various grisly trophies, including a couple of Kobold heads. Meepo recoils at the sight and makes a kicked-puppy sort of whining noise."

"Damn, that's tough," Justin stated.

Harry continued, "The floor of the room is filled with smashed and broken cabinets, cracked and tipped-over tables, and various other detritus that gives silent evidence to some sort of rampage. Thin patches of frost coat various sections of the walls, floor, and debris."

"I don't like the sound of that," Cedric stated. "I'm ducking out of the way."

"Good idea," Hermione said. "I see Cedric ducking, I'm doing the same."

The other players soon chimed in. Harry nodded. "You all press yourselves against the walls, hiding you from direct sight from whatever is inside the room. Meepo, the fearless Kobold Inventor, takes no notice of the fact that you are doing so, and steps further into the room. You hear him shout with joy. 'Calcryx'!"

More dice rolled behind the screen. The players watched. Harry winced. They all held their breath.

"The air in the room and the corridor drops ten degrees in a heartbeat," Harry said, staring at all of them. "A shriek like a frozen gale rips through the air as the young dragon rears back, its wings flaring with instinctual menace. Frost clings to its pale scales like jagged shards of glacier, and its icy-blue eyes locks on the hapless Kobold Inventor. Then comes the roar — high and piercing — and with it, the wyrmling exhales. A torrent of pale-blue mist burst from its maw, not just cold, but unnaturally cold— a howling storm of rime and death. The freezing breath surges forward, engulfing Meepo in an instant. Flesh cracks as skin flash-freezes. A scream begins in his throat but was choked off mid-breath, crystallizing with the sound."

Harry was silent for just a moment. "When the mist clears, only a statue of ice remains — arms raised, lips parted in a final, silent plea. For a heartbeat, Meepo stands frozen in perfect detail. Then a soft crack echoes through the chamber… and he shatters, falling to the stone floor in a thousand glittering shards. The dragon chirps with a savage sort of glee, snowflakes dancing in the air around its nostrils."

"No, not Meepo," Sally-Anne said, sounding not at all upset over the revelation.

"Guess we found the dragon," Justin said, sounding equally unconcerned. "Epic death, though."

"You guys are horrible," Susan complained. "Meepo's been a great help so far."

The players looked at her. She shrugged. "Oh well. At least he went with a bang."

"Or a shriek, in this case," Hermione said with a small giggle.

Chuckles emerged from various people around the table.

Cedric smothered a grin. "I'm still ducking, but I want to shout into the room, asking if that's Calcryx or not."

Harry shrugged. "Sure. What are you shouting, exactly? Or is it just a general question?"

"Hey! Are you Calcryx!?" Cedric asked.

Harry smothered a grin. "Are you asking in Common or Draconic?"

"Let's try Common first," Cedric answered.

"You shout at the open door. In response, you hear something roar angrily," Harry told him. "It definitely sounds like a pissed-off dragon. You're not sure if it's the pissed-off dragon you're looking for, though."

"With our luck, it'll be a whole brood of white dragons," Cedric said. "I'll try Draconic next."

"Alright, Cedric, you shout in Draconic. Sally-Anne, Hermione, your characters speak Draconic as well, so you can understand this. The rest of you, it sounds like Cedric is trying to clear his throat and ending up with a coughing fit."

Chuckles came from various players. "After you ask your question, a response is snarled back," Harry explains. "I'm not going back!" He did his best to sound like a petulant kiddy dragon. It actually sounded rather intimidating, in a young dragon kind of way.

"I guess that answers the question," Cedric said.

"Reminder that the rest doesn't understand the response," Harry reminded him.

"Oh, right. I explain to the others that the Wyrmling doesn't want to go back," Cedric said.

"Not surprising," Hermione said. "I mean, did you see Meepo's state, all covered with scars? They must have been abusing the poor thing, causing it to retaliate. No wonder it flash-froze him."

"I want to shout into the room again," Cedric said, suddenly grinning widely.

Harry nodded. "Alright, what do you shout? And, are you shouting in Draconic again?"

"Yup, Draconic," Cedric said. "I'm shouting, 'we're noble adventurers from a far away land. We mean you no harm. How about you join us, and we'll make sure you never get locked up again."

Harry blinked. "You're trying to recruit the wyrmling?"

"Yup," Cedric said, popping his lips.

Several players snorted.

"Alright, roll me a persuasion check to see how well you convince this very irritated and very young white dragon that you mean her no harm."

Cedric rolled, then consulted his character sheet. "Total makes 19."

Several of the players laughed. Harry chuckled. "Alright, Calcryx, the White Dragon Wyrmling, believes you mean her no harm. She replies with 'I just want my FREEDOM! And my treasures.'. The latter just a few moments after the former."

Cedric takes a moment to translate the conversation, before saying, "I shout back in Draconic. 'I can totally understand your desire for freedom. If you will let us in, we'll help you gather your treasures and escort you to the front door'."

"I guess that means we're bombing the quest to return Calcryx?" Hermione asked.

"Could you leave a cute wee widdle drawon in the hands of these vicious Kobolds?" Cedric asked.

Hermione snorted. "No, I'm totally with you," she replied.

"Alright," Harry said, "Roll me another persuasion check to see if Calcryx believes you."

Cedric rolled. "Total comes to 21."

More laughter.

Harry chuckled. "Calcryx believes you, and tells you that you can come in. But she's going to keep an eye on you and promises to eat you if you betray her. Or steal any of her treasures. Or if you annoy her."

"That's fair," Cedric replied.

Harry ghosted through the halls of Hogwarts on a Saturday. Miss Athena had cancelled their usual session on account of Divine Business, leaving Harry to his own devices. It happened rarely, and each time Harry couldn't help but be worried that this was the time when Miss Athena decided that he was no longer worth teaching.

Thankfully, that hadn't happened – yet – but that didn't mean it couldn't happen in the future.

Still, despite the reprieve of the cancelled study session, he'd finished all his homework, and thanks to Miss Athena's boon and her subsequent lessons in memory management techniques, he didn't really need to study for any tests either.

And thinking of Miss Athena, he'd finished his assigned reading for the week as well.

Hence, the lazy free Saturday spent wandering Hogwarts to see if anything interesting popped up.

He ended up in front of the Potions laboratory, and his probability instincts nudged him, reminding him of something.

Remus Lupin.

He'd once made a silent promise to look into werewolves and see if he could do something to help, to make it up to the man for his inappropriate greeting.

His instincts nudged him again. And waggled non-existent eyebrows.

Well, he'd gotten this far by trusting his probability senses to both get him into and out of trouble.

His hand pushed down on the handle and opened the door. Harry surrendered all pretense of self-control and allowed probability to guide him.

He was reasonably sure this was going to cost him at some point in the future, but right now he didn't care.

Taking a cauldron, he simply started a fire, and set up a cauldron with a neutral starter fluid. He proceeded to walk through the laboratory and randomly pulled ingredients off the shelves, seemingly without rhyme or reason.

He finished with a table full of random bottles, vials, containers and boxes. His probability instincts seemed to take stock, then he pulled on Hestia's domain to conjure a box of raspberries.

Finally ready to brew, he conjuring some paper and a pen.

After all, the difference between doing science and screwing around was taking notes. So, his instincts apparently took notes.

Harry grinned to himself when he realized his probability instincts adhered to the scientific method of writing doing your screwups.

He wrote and brewed and wrote and brewed until the door was suddenly pushed open.

"Mister Potter?" Professor Snape half asked, half demanded. The man strode over to the cauldron, gazed into it, and sniffed loudly. "What, in Merlin's name, are you doing?"

"I met one of my father's friends over the summer," Harry explained. "He's a werewolf, so I'm trying to make a werewolf cure."

Professor Snape froze, his face twisting into something hateful. Glaring at the boy, he grit out, "And pray tell, Potter, why do you think you can succeed where hundreds of better wizards than you have failed for centuries?" The Professor's words were cold and harsh, causing Harry to flinch. In a furious motion, Snape yanked the paper from the desk.

"You'll probably end up killing someone instead… of… helping…" Snape's voice trailed off as he stared at the notes and the recipe that Harry's instincts had concocted. The man blinked. Then, his free hand came to his chin in a thinking motion.

In a fast but no longer furious motion, the man turned to the blackboard and started writing, the ingredients that Harry had used went into a list, from which reactions and resulting compounds were derived.

As the man wrote out the primary interactions, Harry realized what his professor was doing. He turned as well, and started helping by creating the secondary reactions, the results of the primary reactions in turn reacting with each other. Then, tertiary ones as the results of the secondary reactions became known. Finally, a fourth level of reactions took place, resulting in a singular potion.

Fifteen minutes later, teacher and student were staring at a fully filled blackboard.

"Mister Potter," Snape said, returning to using 'mister' in front of Harry's name. "You either created a werewolf cure, or we are both missing something."

They turned to stare at the cauldron. "Although I can't, for the life of me, understand why you added raspberries."

"Flavor," Harry replied immediately. "People are more likely to take medicine if it tastes at least palatable. And, everything else would interfere with the reaction. The raspberries are the only fruit I know of that would blend in with the other ingredients."

Snape snorted, but said nothing further.

They continued to stare at the innocently bubbling cauldron. Harry had the distinct impression that his probability senses were waiting for something, and so he waited.

"As much as it pains me as a Potions Master," Snape finally said, "we need to call for a second opinion."

Harry blinked. "Alright," he said, confused.

Snape sighed again. "Let me get Madam Pomfrey," he said. "As certified Healer, she is better placed to judge whether there will be any negative reactions."

The Son of Tyche nodded. Snape started stalking toward the door, before stopping and turning back to Harry. "If this works as I think it will," the Professor stated, "you're going to be called the youngest Potions Master in history, Mister Potter."

Before Harry could offer a reply, Snape left the laboratory, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

He sighed. This was going to cost him, he could feel it.

Ten minutes later, Snape was back with the school's Healer in tow. "Hello, Madam Promfrey," Harry greeted her.

"Good afternoon, Mister Potter," the matron replied. "I must say, it is good to see some our students ask for expert advice before engaging in dangerous behavior."

"Professor Snape said we needed an expert opinion," Harry replied, unsure exactly which instance of dangerous behavior the school's nurse was referring to. Judging by the reactions of adults around him, most of his actions could be considered 'dangerous'.

The school's Healer glanced at the dour Potions Professor, and said, "And good on him to recognize he is a Potions Master and not a Healer," she said. "Now, let's see what you've concocted here."

"I was hoping for a werewolf cure," Harry answered, handing over the notes and motioning toward the blackboard filled with scribbles.

"Aiming high are we, Mister Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked, looking at the notes, frowning, and started to read them more in depth. As she was reading, she occasionally referred to the reactions scribbled on the blackboard.

In the end, she had her hand in front of her mouth. "Mister Potter," she said. "You may have something here. I don't think anyone ever thought to tackle the werewolf cure from this point of view. As far as I can see, there should be no adverse reactions. We really should do some tests, but honestly, where are were going to find a werewolf willing to put their life on the line?"

Harry could see Professor Snape starting to realize something, but before the Professor could say anything, he spoke up, "I know someone!"

Professor Snape groaned. Then, realizing he had done so, schooled his face into a facade of careful neutrality as if nothing had happened.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the infirmary, with the cauldron still bubbling innocently above a temporary flame, when Remus Lupin stepped through the fireplace.

"Hi Remus," Harry greeted. "Glad you could make it!"

"Harry, Madam Pomfrey, Severus," Remus greeted everyone present. "When you say you 'have a little something' for me, I wasn't expecting this," he told Harry.

He grinned back in answered. "I brewed a werewolf cure, do you want to try?" he asked, perfectly innocently. Would you like a cookie? Would you like a werewolf cure?

Remus blinked. "Pardon?"

Professor Snape sighed. "Mister Potter may have made the biggest breakthrough in magical medicine since the invention of the Pepper-Up Potion," he explained. "Both myself and Poppy have examined it, and both of us agree that it should work and have no adverse reactions should it fail."

Remus gaped, looked at the cauldron, which bubbled innocently, to Madam Pomfrey, who nodded, to Harry, who grinned, to Professor Snape, who just looked stonily impassive.

"Is Sirius playing a prank and got you lot involved?" the man finally asked.

Harry sighed, and scooped a measured dose of cure out of the cauldron into a vial. Holding it out to Remus, he said, "No joke, no prank, and no adverse reactions, Madam Pomfrey guaranteed."

When Remus made no move to take it, Harry wiggled it enticingly back and forth.

"For Merlin's sake, Lupin," the Potions Master grit out, taking the vial, and downing it in one gulp. "You are such a pussy. See? Fine." He licked his lips, and turned to Harry. "And it actually does taste pleasant. Good work, Mister Potter."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Professor!" he chirped, measuring another dose in a clean vial. After all, hospitals required cleanliness, right? He wiggled the new vial at Remus.

The werewolf sighed, and took it. "If this is a prank, I will hex all of you. If I die, I'm coming back and haunt you for the rest of your lives," he stated before throwing the potion back. He blinked. "It does taste like raspberries," he said, before his eyes went wide.

"I feel strange," he muttered, bending over and leaning on the foot of one of the beds. "What did you-"

Madam Pomfrey was already waving her wand. Remus started to glow, but soon the glow diminished, before dying down completely. She cast again, but the glow did not reappear.

"Did I just register as negative on the werewolf revealing spell?" Remus asked, trying to sit on a non-existing chair and ending up sitting on the floor instead.

"Yes," the Healer confirmed. "Yes, you did," she repeated, as if she needed to convince herself. "You are no longer a werewolf. Congratulations, Remus."

"Here," Professor Snape snarked, throwing the man something. Remus, despite himself, caught it before looking at it.

It was a coin. A sickle. A silver sickle.

"It… it doesn't burn me," the shocked man whispered, turning the silver coin over and over.

"Ultimate confirmation that you are indeed no longer a werewolf," the dour Professor stated, before looking at Harry. "I think I can guarantee that you will get an article on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Congratulations, Harry. If I may call you that." In the background, the school's Healer continued casting spell after spell, just to confirm over and over again that it had worked.

Harry grinned. "I didn't do it for that, Severus," he answered, using the man's recently revealed first name.

Severus nodded, apparently not having an issue with Harry using his first name. "Only when in private. In class, we must be professional," he stated. "Harry, if you will allow me to put my name on the by-line, I will write this up into an article and submit it to The Cauldron for publication. This invention needs to be shared, especially as we have confirmed that it actually works."

"That's fine," Harry replied, nodding eagerly. He didn't want the extra homework, and the professor was correct – this had to be shared.

"Before we do that, however, comes a different important question," the professor said, looking incredibly serious. "As soon as this recipe is out there, others will use it. You must, therefore, take out a patent and determine how much you would like to be paid for every dose of cure that is brewed."

Harry blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it. Then, he thought deeply before answering. "I don't want anything," he said.

Suddenly, silence descended in the infirmary. Remus Lupin stopped repeatedly asking the question about his status as a werewolf. Madam Pomfrey stopped casting werewolf-related spells and repeatedly answering Lupin's repeated questions. Even the fire in the fireplace seemed to stop making noise.

"Pardon?" The professor asked.

"I don't want anything," Harry replied. "I have food, clothes, friends, family. I don't need anything else. Plus, even if I asked something ridiculously low, I would always have the nagging doubt that out there somewhere is a poor werewolf who couldn't afford the cure because of my greed. So – I don't want to be paid for it. If that's possible, take out the patent so nobody else can grab it and charge through the nose for it, and let it be available for free."

The silence in the infirmary continued for just a tad longer. The Potions Professor was the first to speak. "They're going to give you an Order of Merlin for this, Harry," he said, sounding both proud, respectful, and just a little bit awed.

"I didn't do it for that, either," he replied with a whisper. Inside, he realized that this was definitely going to cost him.

Lupin, meanwhile, seemed to have been able to pull himself together and come to terms with his new status as 'not a werewolf'. He stood up, and pulled Harry into a tight hug. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you." His voice broke. "Your parents would have been so proud of you."

That reminded Harry, he'd need to write to – wait, no he didn't. He could just call his mother now. Granny Rhea had broken Zeus' curse. He loved Granny Rhea. And Zeus had it coming, the grouch.

"Thanks, Remus," Harry replied, remembering that he shouldn't tell people his mother wasn't dead – she'd just rejoined her main existence as Goddess of Fortune.

Huh, maybe he could write to his dad instead. Mel could probably be talked into playing messenger.

He resisted the urge to snicker; his life was so much fun, when dead parents were either parts of a deity, or reachable through a friendship with a Goddess of Ghosts.

He'd need to set up a conference fire-call with Hestia and Tyche first, though. He was sure they'd be happy he'd cured such a nasty disease.

When the former werewolf finally released him, there were tears in his eyes. "This… this is huge…" he whispered, apparently back to where he couldn't believe what was happening.

"Before you lose yourself again, Lupin," Professor Snape snarked, "Shall I reveal your name as the werewolf cured by the cure, or shall I write it up as an 'unnamed werewolf'? The first will gain legitimacy, but the second will save you from being hounded by the press."

Remus blinked, startled back to reality, and seemed to think for a few moments. "Put my name in, please, Severus. It would be cowardly of me to withhold my name. Any aid I can give, you have it."

The Potions Master nodded.

"And Severus?" Remus added. "Thank you for looking after the son of my old friends. I must admit, I was afraid that old grudges would have come up."

The Professor scowled for a few moments. "Why would I hesitate to help the son of Lily, my oldest friend? That she had the misfortune of falling for the wrong man is a lapse in judgment that I will gladly forgive her for."

Lupin snickered. Before he could say anything, the Professor turned back to Harry. "I am not proud of how my friendship with your mother ended, Harry. Not a day goes by that I do not wish I could apologize. I do know, however, that she would be over the moon with your accomplishment today." He nodded to Remus and the Healer. "I am going to write this up for publication. Have a good day, Harry." His lips twitched in what could have been a smile but looked like it hadn't been used in a while. "You've certainly earned it."

AN: the D scene is inspired by what happened when I ran Sunless Citadel as a side-quest for two of my friends. Apparently, they didn't care that Meepo died, but the thought of having an attack dragon on tap was cool enough it was worth a shot. They did, indeed, make the persuasion rolls, and yes, they ended up escorting the mini-boss to the exit instead of fighting her.

I liked the idea so much, that I had Calcryx return in the overall campaign, a month or so after the side-quest concluded, with a healing scar on one wing, missing scales, and no treasures. I played it as 'Calcryx got beaten up, her treasures stolen, and is that offer of joining the party still good?'

In the end, she did join the rest of the campaign as a sort of "Draconic heavy bomber Support", even if the players had to bribe her with both money and food to do so. Chaotic Evil dragons look out for themselves, after all.