Harry and the Magic Factory
Chapter 10
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December 23, 1997
It was an early morning. And it promised to be a long day. The Council meeting had started long before the dawn and was still going as the sun rose above the Earth.
Finally, Harry was done with attempting to reason with these people on this issue. "No, that's it," he said. "If you attempt to pass special legislation to deal with the Apprentices, I will veto it. If you convene a judge and jury, I will issue a full pardon…and not even award these morons the punishments that they do deserve. I will not have us thought of as bloodthirsty. I will not take lives unless in war, or if there are no other alternatives."
The Council was decidedly unhappy. Most of the members knew that Harry had a backbone, but he rarely had to demonstrate how firm it was. Most of these people had never seen him fight for something before. It was awe-inspiring and just a bit terrifying.
But one of them, Bilirubin Anders, just wouldn't let it drop. He had come to the Potter Estate early on because of his work with experimental charms. He'd pursued a Mastery, brought his family in, and remained. And now he had his two-year term on the Council. And he respected no one and nothing, it seemed.
Harry examined everything about this man, all that he had seen before, all that he was seeing now. Harry was dismayed he hadn't noticed any of these patterns before. This Anders person was just itching to turn the Council into a kind of hereditary fiefdom, the breeding ground of incompetence, just as the British Ministry of Magic was. Harry decided to let Anders play his games for now. But only for as long as it took to understand what the man's true plans were…and who his supporters and backers were. Harry would not stand for the recreation of useless factions and ideologies. Were people that bored that they actually wanted to play politics? Were they that stupid that they wanted to paralyze themselves into immobility – and be led by people like this Anders?
Harry let another five minutes of discussion pass on before he decided the meeting should end. So he dropped a bombshell. "I will be meeting personally with Albus Dumbledore on January the Tenth."
Yup, that did it. The people inside the Potter Estate hated Voldemort, but they loathed what they'd observed of Dumbledore over the years. Harry had rescued war orphans from the man so they wouldn't be economically drained and shunted off to an unloving home. Harry had even shielded the worst of Dumbledore's crimes from his general citizrenry, but the man's approach to expediency and the lives and rights of children were enough. The Council had forgotten all about Bracus Snape now and was hounding for Dumbledore's head.
"No," was how Harry stopped that argument. "We will merely present the facts and see where the British public and government goes from there…"
He was interrupted a few times, but Harry already knew what the objections would be.
"…and if the government does nothing because Dumbledore has too much influence, well that is valuable knowledge. If that happens, I am willing to discuss more punitive measures with the Council."
That was enough to appease most of them. If Harry was talking about possible 'punitive measures,' then whatever he'd cook up would certainly be entertaining, pointed, and effective. He certainly was vicious enough when it came to certain classes of criminals, not that they had many. The last case of child abuse had been eight years ago…and everyone present in the Potter Estate still remembered how that had ended. Harry taught lessons once, and people learned them. Thieves and child abusers, though, were treated especially harshly. Any crime against a weaker soul was anathema.
The Council was getting ready to leave when Harry murmured, "Please do plan something to commemorate the passing of Tom Riddle. I don't think we need a parade or anything gaudy, but something so that we're sure everyone here knows."
Well, that was the right kind of sop. The Council wasn't allowed to execute Bracus Snape, but they were allowed to throw a massive, 'restrained' celebration for the destruction of Tom Riddle. Even filled with middle aged witches and wizards, the Council was pretty damned good at spending money and throwing parties.
"Make the New Year's Celebration even better. We'll mark the anniversary of Riddle's passage with our New Year's festivals from now on."
That also went a long way toward making the Council happy. It wouldn't be just the one party. It would be parties stretching on for years in the future, too.
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At the Potter School, the eight remaining Chosen were enjoying breakfast, albeit with frayed nerves, when Sirius Black entered the room. Sirius knew that many of them were feeling calmer about what they'd seen with Tom Riddle and Bracus Snape yesterday. But the rest of them seemed more ready to tackle a dark lord of their own rather than sit these upcoming examinations. Only Fred and George seemed to be at ease. Of course, their brief conversation with Harry had indicated that they'd already performed well on one kind of Potter Estate test. And that was a test they'd both enjoyed enormously.
Sirius smiled at the crowd and asked an Oompah for some breakfast, too. Sirius watched every one of the remaining candidates while he ate. He expected at least one of them to crack during the first day of testing. Remus was betting on a minimum of two. Alastor Moody agreed with Sirius, but had specifically put his money on his grandnephew, Fenecule, flunking out.
"Not a lot of depth in that part of the gene pool," Alastor had said. "Boy's smart enough in an academic sense, but wouldn't have the first idea as to applying what he knows. He won't get by with textbook answers on a test like that one."
Sirius was still trying to consider what would happen. He knew fairly well who would do well – Harry had already shared his opinions on that subject and Harry was about the best judge of character, skill, and talent they had.
Sirius finished his meal, saw that everyone else was either done or just picking at their plates, and stood up. "Let me give you some explanations and context for the examinations. They're normally sat at fourteen or fifteen by our students, but that's after nine or ten years of schooling. Some of the subjects covered on the exam aren't offered at your school, so you won't be expected to cover them. In fact, you will be able to specify exactly what subjects you will be tested on, plus any foreign languages you are competent in. Ordinarily we require four before a student sits the exam, but the Apprenticeship Program gives all of you an exemption…"
The longer Sirius spoke, the more annoyed he saw the Chosen becoming. They didn't like having to be granted so many different exemptions because of their supposedly 'substandard' schooling. He was hoping it would give them some fire in their bellies. The testing really was as challenging as everyone said it was.
"…the testing system begins with several baseline questions. Then, depending upon your answers, it begins asking harder or easier questions until it determines your level of understanding within a subject. The system understands partially correct answers and awards credit. All of this happens on day one, by the way. Day two is taken up by practicals in all the areas you've been tested in. You'll brew potions, cast spells, and do the, err, other things required in practicals. And day three is…rather unique. We refer to it as the oral examination. Three teachers here will meet with each of you to go over your first two days' results and then to ask additional questions and ensure our testing procedure correctly gauged your level of understand…"
The fire was gone and the nerves were back. The Chosen, save for those insane Weasleys, looked about ready to pass out.
"…one final explanation on the first day. The testing device is very clever. You will not have the same examination as anyone else in the room, not by a long shot. Also, as you'll be indicating your particular strengths, namely your strongest academic subject, the device will skew your questions in that direction. For example, my strength might be Defense. So the testing device will ask me first about potions related to defense, the history of spells and battles, and the like, before it moved on to more general matter. It's designed to help ease you into the test. You should expect to be here all day. Each of you will have between four hundred and seven hundred questions to answer…"
That drew a response. A negative one. "What?" "My brain will fall out of my head…" "Are you insane?"
But Sirius smiled and kept on talking. "If your skill levels are easy to place – meaning you're either very gifted in everything or very unskilled – you'll have a short exam. If you're a mix, skilled in some and less so in others, your examination will be longer as the device will try to assess to an insanely detailed level exactly what you know. I should also mention that many of the questions on the examination will be multidisciplinary. You may be asked to assess the effects of a number of different charms when used on a number of different potions, for example. Thus proving your knowledge of those charms and those potions. It's really a devilish little thing."
With that, Sirius smirked, turned, and started walking toward a door in the wall. He motioned for everyone else to follow along. The testing room was just ahead.
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Harry walked into the quiet room at Healer Wycross' home and saw his good friend, Cedric Diggory. Cedric would shortly be completing his first mastery in healing, but the young man enjoyed working with patients more than the stuffy research he did behind a desk.
Cedric was perfectly happy spending all his time with patients. He had the perfect personality to be one of the best Healers in the Potter Estate. He also, thankfully, had the right mix of skills and abilities.
"How's our idiot doing?"
Cedric smiled, then looked a bit upset. "As a healer, I should be angry with your little joke. But who in their right mind would want to pick up a filled soul jar? Aren't they teaching kids anything these days?"
Harry shook his head. "Best student in his year at Hogwarts. However. They probably don't even touch on soul magics there. And they certainly don't teach common sense."
"Kid was doomed before he even set foot inside the pavilion, then."
"A probable lifetime of being told he was better and smarter and cleverer than he really was dooms anyone. I don't know if I blame an inadequate education more than an inadequate upbringing…but perhaps we'll know after some people start poking around in his head. Or maybe not."
Cedric smiled and shrugged. There was no answer to the puzzle, although it was amusing to speculate.
Harry peaked around the room and saw an unmoving form in one of the beds. "How is he doing?"
"He regained consciousness late last night, Healer Wycross told me. But he hasn't said anything yet. And then there's his test results."
With that, Harry cast several silent, wordless spells at the young Bracus Snape. Harry cast them a second time. "I guess I see what the problem is, then. He's reading like a squib now. He's alive, sane, but without magic. At least temporarily. I wonder if Tom Riddle booby trapped his body that way. Getting rid of the spiritual possession destroys the magic?"
Cedric shrugged. "We may never know."
"I'll be back in a day or two to talk with him. He's committed about the worst kind of crime we have here. But his loss of magic complicates the situation."
Cedric just nodded. Newly made squibs were particularly ferocious and unpleasant. It was also an unexpected consequence of possession, at least as far as Potter Necromantics had studied the phenomenon.
Harry still had one other criminal to deal with. Harry called for the Oompah named Totobama. The ancient, wise Oompah appeared immediately. It was her job to keep the Apprentices on the straight and narrow, at least as long as they wanted to be there. It was also her job to let them fail when the time came.
"Toto, is Blaise Zabini ready to leave?"
Totobama nodded. "Nasty cheat is all cleaned up. His memory is charmed. Plus, whenever he thinks of us, he'll have a roaring headache."
Harry smiled. Totobama shared much of Harry's sense of fairness and justice. It had been a fortuitous selection.
"Send him along like you did with Cormac McLaggen. Include the embarrassing note that he's been expelled for attempted theft and his rights to claim to be Chosen are revoked. Make sure the newspapers get copies, too."
Totobama looked toward the occupied hospital bed. She was curious about this third one.
"Nothing on him for now, Toto," Harry said. "He's complicated and the worst of the lot. We may never be able to reverse what's happened to him."
Totobama got a feral smile on her face. For a moment, she looked part-goblin, about to descend upon her opponent in a moment of weakness.
Then she returned to being a very fair Oompah. Harry smiled at her and bid her good day. Cedric was laughing by the time she departed.
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Fred Weasley quickly moved through the pre-test. He marked down the subjects he was competent in, more than he'd ever revealed to the folks at Hogwarts, and then had to think for a second what his greatest academic strengths were. As 'utter mayhem' wasn't a choice, Fred selected Potions. He was a good prankster, but his first love would always be his cauldron and the things he could make it do.
George was having a harder time deciding. Was he a Charms master or a true Prankster? Eventually, for the sake of appearing more serious, he decided that Charms would be his strength for the duration of this exam. George had certainly mastered every shrinking, enlarging, and color charm ever created by witch or wizard.
The room filled with groans when the first questions appeared on their magical screens.
For Fred: "1. The fennel plant is closely related to a number of magical plant species. Identify five closely related species. For each specie, identify two potions that use it. For each potion, identify the likely reaction if fennel seed were used in place of the required magical ingredient."
Fred was sweating now. This was harder than anything he'd ever worked on for his NEWTS. Hell, it was harder than the Potions mastery exam put out by the British Ministery. It was herbology and potions, rote memory plus experimental and theoretical aspects, all in the same question. It was insane.
But, as his eyes threatened to roll back into his head, Fred discovered he actually knew the answers to the question. His mother, Molly, loved fennel. He'd seen it in the garden; he'd tasted it. He could see exactly what its magical counterparts might be. Fred knew he could do this.
George had gasped at his first question. First, it wasn't in English, but rather Spanish. George was kicking himself that he'd entered any language proficiency at all in the pre-test. Apparently the device took that as a clue to test the language as well as the subject matter. After he worked out the translation, he gasped again. "1. The arithmantic principles behind any given charm break down in similar ways. Identify one charm from each of the following fields: summoning, levitation, secrecy, gender inversion, and stasis-induction. For each charm, show the arithmantic equations behind the spell. Finally, from these five examples, explain your conclusions as to the similarities behind these charms given that they each do vastly different things."
George knew that the hardest charms on record were the stasis-inducing ones. And secrecy spells, like the Fidelius Charm, were almost unknown anymore and were certainly not taught in school. The Ministry actually classified a gender inverting charm as a restricted spell, which was a good thing, since it made sure that George learned a couple just for kicks (and for the knowledge it was restricted). But the depth and breadth of knowledge required for a single question was mind-boggling. And this whole question was asking for arithmantic proofs. George hadn't studied the subject in school at all, just self-study to help improve his chances of starting a joke shop with his brother.
He wanted to throw the test down and walk away first thing. But he noticed his brother seemed to be doing well so far. At least he wasn't projectile vomiting like he sometimes did to get out of tests.
So George knew he couldn't let Fred show him up. And, as his fear diminished, George realized he knew all the required charms. And his mind had started to decode them into the arithmantic components. He could do at least some of this. He could.
When he tried to write his answers in arithmantic equations, the device accepted them. But when he filled out the more subjective portions, the device refused anything in England. He had to answer the blasted test in Spanish. George was kicking himself.
'Bugger. Bugger. Bugger."
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Harry arrived at the Potter Press later that morning, after taking tea and some breakfast with Cedric. He needed to quickly finish up a long-standing project of his. It would be very useful now. This dry sounding book he was working on had been in various stages of production for a long time…but it would soon be incredibly important in a political sense. Harry opened his small cubicle of an office on the third floor. He pulled open the desk drawer where his longhand version was sitting. The cover sheet read, "The Rise and Fall of Tom Riddle, Once Known as the Dark Lord Voldemort." Harry was giving himself the rest of the day to write the final chapter and fill in the missing details.
This would supplant all the false versions out there. And the planned attachments, namely two sets of duplicated memories included with every copy, would show edited versions of when Voldemort attempted to kill Harry as an infant and when he possessed Bracus Snape's body.
This book was incredibly important. And it could, if done correctly, perform a lot of good in the world. The first part of which was dispelling a lot of medievalism still extant inside Britain's witches and wizards.
Harry put his pen down to paper. "On December 22, 1997, the spirit form of Tom Riddle successfully possessed a young wizard who wasn't aware of the purpose of a soul jar. While possessed, Tom Riddle attempted to break free…"