Chapter Text
After the NEWTs were over, the atmosphere at Hogwarts was charged with a mix of relief, anticipation, and bittersweet farewells. The seventh-year students buzzed with excitement, their minds already drifting towards the future and the upcoming farewell party.
Harry Potter, however, was preoccupied with a different kind of excitement. He had just received confirmation of his acceptance into an apprenticeship under the famous Potions Mistress Madame Richelieu, one of the most respected Potions Masters in the world. The news spread quickly across Hogwarts, and it wasn't long before it reached the ears of the resident Potions professor Severus Snape.
Severus was in his office, grading the last of the 4th year exam papers with his usual meticulousness when he overheard a pair of sixth-year students talking excitedly outside his door.
"Did you hear? Harry Potter got an apprenticeship with esteemed Madame Richelieu! She's the best there is!"
Severus's quill snapped in his hand and his face twisted into a dark scowl. What foolishness was this? It had to be a false rumour, like so many other insipid rumours the students indulged in. There was nothing to it, Severus was sure, for how could that brainless brat have secured such a coveted apprenticeship?
"Unbelievable! That’s such a prestigious position. How on earth did he manage that?!"
The voices belonged to two students, a boy and a girl whose names Severus couldn't recall at the moment, but their words echoed loudly in his mind. He felt a swarm of emotions — disbelief, irritation, and a surging rage that had his ears ringing.
"I know, right? Madame Richelieu hardly takes on apprentices, and when she does, it's usually the cream of the crop," the girl whispered eagerly.
"Yeah, exactly! I heard she's very particular about who she chooses. Potter must have really impressed her," the boy replied, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and jealousy.
Severus gritted his teeth as bitterness and disbelief rose within him. Potter, the boy who had vexed him endlessly with his bone-headed stubbornness and reckless disregard for rules, had somehow managed to secure an apprenticeship with one of the most esteemed Potions Masters in Europe? It was inconceivable!
"He must have pulled some stunt to get her attention," Severus muttered under his breath, his tone laced with scepticism.
"Of course, everyone knows he's very good at Potions," the girl countered, her voice carrying a note of defence that Severus found grating. "After all, I remember a certain someone following Potter around like a puppy, begging him to give a few lessons in our fourth year."
The boy hissed something that was too soft to hear as Severus's features twisted in incredulity. Potter helping other students? Impossible! The boy was as selfish as they come. Still, the girl's words echoed in his mind, taunting him with a reality he found hard to accept.
Potter, known for his reckless bravery and occasional luck, being sought after for his potions expertise? What utter tripe!
"Come on, Ellie," the boy replied, his voice lowered but audible through the door. "That was ages ago. Besides, Potter has always been more about flying by the seat of his pants than following the textbook. How could he get an apprenticeship before even graduating Hogwarts when Snape's always on about his incompetence?"
"Still, there must be something to it," Ellie persisted, her tone stubborn and voice faint. They must be walking away from his door. "Potter wouldn't have gotten Madame Richelieu's attention if he didn't have some talent and skill. Maybe Snape's just bitter because Potter might surpass him."
Severus's eyes flashed with a mixture of fury and wounded pride. The notion that Potter could surpass him, a Potions Master of unparalleled skill and knowledge, was preposterous. Yet, the seed of doubt had been planted, gnawing at him.
"Enough of this nonsense," Severus muttered sharply to himself, shaking his head to dispel the unwelcome thoughts. With a swift motion, he pushed away the stack of papers and stormed out of his office, his black robes billowing behind him. He needed to confirm this outrageous news for himself. Striding purposefully through the corridors, he reached the staff room where McGonagall and Flitwick were having a quiet conversation.
"Minerva," Severus's voice was low and dangerous as he cut in, "Is it true that Potter has secured an apprenticeship under Madame Richelieu?"
McGonagall looked up, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. She looked as smug as a cat that got the cream. "Yes, Severus, it is true. Harry received the confirmation this morning."
Severus's lips curled into a sneer. "How could that be possible? Madame Richelieu is known for her high standards. She wouldn’t take on someone like Potter."
"Someone like Potter?" McGonagall's voice took on a steely edge. "You mean one of the brightest Potions students we've seen in years? Someone who has shown exceptional skill and dedication? If you had bothered to look past your biases, Severus, you would have seen what I and others have seen in him."
Severus's eyes narrowed. "This is a mistake. Richelieu will soon realise she’s wasted her time."
McGonagall stood, her demeanour calm but firm. "Severus, I understand your history with Harry’s father, and your rather unfortunate blindness to Harry's talents, but let me make it very clear to you. Harry has earned this opportunity through hard work and talent. Madame Richelieu saw that. Perhaps it’s time you finally did too."
With a disdainful sniff, Severus turned on his heel and left the room, his mind a tempest of conflicting emotions.
How could Potter, the boy he had belittled and dismissed, have achieved something so significant? It was a bitter pill for Severus to swallow and a blow to his pride; a challenge to his long-held beliefs about Potter's abilities. Severus refused to accept that James Potter's brat, of all people, achieved an apprenticeship with a Potions Mistress who had a ranking and prestige far above his own.
Madame Evèline Richelieu was renowned the world over for her groundbreaking potions inventions in the medical field. She had a long-standing friendship with Damocles Belby and had worked with him on creating the original Wolfsbane Potion in the 1970s. Her Regena-Potion revolutionised emergency medicine, allowing healers to mend severe injuries in a fraction of the usual time. Her Memory Restorative Draught and Nerve Regenerative Tonic saved countless lives - it was what restored the sanity of Alice Longbottom and earned Madame Richelieu a life debt from the House of Longbottom.
Her contributions extended beyond individual potions; her extensive research on magical and non-magical illnesses had led to significant advancements in understanding and treating various medical conditions. Madame Richelieu's expertise was not just respected but revered, earning her the highest honours from institutions like St. Mungo's Hospital and the International Confederation of Wizards. Apprenticing under her was considered the pinnacle of achievement for any aspiring Potions Master, a testament to her unparalleled skill and the high standards she maintained in her practice.
Inside his office, Severus resumed grading the papers with renewed malignity, but his mind was swirling with thoughts of Potter and Richelieu. The revelation was eating at him, igniting a fierce desire to prove that the boy's success was nothing more than a fluke, a temporary stroke of luck that would soon fade away.
He had spent years mocking Potter's efforts and to learn the boy had secured an apprenticeship with Madame Richelieu, a Potions Mistress of the highest calibre, was not just shocking—it was infuriating. How could the brat who had flouted rules, caused endless trouble, and who had epitomised everything Severus loathed about Gryffindors, have impressed such a distinguished figure in the magical community?
No, this must be a mistake. No doubt, the attention-seeking brat lied about his success to be fawned over by his admirers. Just like his father, that boy was.
Severus yanked out a fresh piece of parchment of the expensive variety and started writing a letter to Madame Richelieu. He would make her understand just what a monumental mistake she was about to make by wasting time on the likes of James Potter's son.
He was filled with righteous indignation as he penned his letter. How could Madame Richelieu, a Potions Mistress of unparalleled renown, be so easily deceived by Harry Potter’s charm and luck? Did she not realise this boy was the epitome of recklessness, arrogance, and mediocrity, much like his father?
Snape was determined to lay out every flaw, every moment of insubordination, every instance where Potter’s so-called 'talent' had failed him. Richelieu had to see the truth—that Harry Potter was unworthy of her mentorship and incapable of living up to the high standards of a true Potions Master.
"Dear Madame Richelieu," he began, his quill scratching elegantly across the parchment. "I write to you in regards to the recent news that Mr. Harry Potter has been accepted into your prestigious apprenticeship program. As his Potions professor at Hogwarts, I feel it is my duty to inform you of certain aspects of Mr. Potter's character and abilities that you may not be aware of. It is essential that you understand what kind of individual you are about to take under your wing."
Severus paused, his mind churning with thoughts of Potter's many perceived shortcomings. He would detail the boy's lack of discipline, his tendency to flout rules, and his consistent reliance on sheer luck and outside help rather than his own hard work and skill.
Surely, Richelieu would see reason and reconsider her decision once she had all the facts.
Assured of his course of action, Severus continued writing, his hand moving rapidly as he outlined every instance where Potter had demonstrated anything less than perfection in his Potions class. Each mistake, every moment of arrogance, was meticulously catalogued. Severus detailed how Potter had, on numerous occasions, relied on other students for help instead of working on his own, often bungling basic instructions only to somehow stumble upon passable results.
Severus paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing with vindictive pleasure.
"I have dedicated my life to the study and mastery of Potions, earning the title of Potions Master at a remarkably young age. My contributions to the field are well-documented, and I have had the honour of mentoring numerous students who have gone on to make significant advancements in our discipline. My tenure at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has provided me with a unique perspective on the abilities and potential of young potion-makers.
Mr. Potter, while possessing a modicum of raw talent, has consistently failed to demonstrate the discipline and dedication required of a true Potions Master. His work in my classes has been marked by a lack of precision, and an over-reliance on luck and external influence. He has shown a blatant disregard for the meticulous nature of potion-making, often cutting corners and displaying a cavalier attitude towards the complexities of the craft.
I must emphasise that my assessment of Mr. Potter is not made lightly. It is based on years of close observation and rigorous evaluation during his Hogwarts career. His occasional successes are outliers, more attributable to fortuitous circumstances than to any inherent skill or understanding. His tendency to seek attention and his proclivity for recklessness render him ill-suited for the disciplined and exacting path of a Potions Master.
I urge you to reconsider your decision to accept Mr. Potter into your apprenticeship program. While he may have presented you with satisfactory samples, I assure you that they do not represent his true capabilities. My extensive experience and deep understanding of the field place me in a unique position to judge his potential accurately. It would be a disservice to our profession to allow someone of Mr. Potter's temperament and inconsistency to be granted such an esteemed opportunity."
Severus signed the letter with a flourish, feeling grim gratification welling up in him. Madame Richelieu would undoubtedly heed his warnings and see the boy for what he truly was. She would surely appreciate the insights of a fellow Potions Master, especially one with his reputation and experience.
Potter may have won this round with his lies and false claims, but in the world of potions, skill, prestige, and knowledge were what truly mattered. After all, Severus was a highly respected Potions Master with years of experience and numerous accolades to his name. His expertise was beyond reproach, his inventions used across the world, and his word carried significant weight in the Potions community.
Who better than Severus Snape to judge the true potential of an aspiring Potions apprentice?
Severus felt a twisted sense of satisfaction as he closed the envelope with his personal seal and sent it off with a school owl, confident that his reputation and detailed critique of the brat would sway the Potions Mistress. Richelieu would recognise the validity of his concerns and reconsider her decision. He could almost picture her reading his words, nodding in agreement, and rescinding her offer to Potter.
Potter’s brief moment of glory would soon be eclipsed by the harsh reality of his inadequacies. The brat would learn charisma and luck alone was not enough to succeed. Severus was determined to teach Potter that lesson, one way or another.