39. Chapter 39

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Chapter 39

Harry sat in a simple wooden chair that was the third from the left in a row of ten. Only two other chairs were occupied: the one on the very end by a woman in her early twenties that already sat there when Harry had arrived and the one, two seats over by an older gentleman that smiled when he caught Harry's gaze. He had small spectacles leaning on the front of his nose and he was hiding his balding head underneath a bowler hat, which he had politely tipped at the woman when he came in.

Harry sat rigidly, his hands folded in his lap as he awaited his turn. A few hallways down, he could hear urgent voices and the banging of closets. It was not every day that he found himself amidst the hustle and bustle of St Mungo's but today he was here for his interview. The more the thought about it, the more eager he became to be allowed a chance at working here for a while. That thought alone made him rather nervous so he did his best to clear his mind and ignore his surroundings.

The door opened and a girl his age stalked out rather confidently, walking away without looking back.

"Sophia Williams," called a man, reading the name from a clipboard. "We are ready to see you now."

Ms Williams got up from her seat, straightened her skirt and walked over to the man who stepped aside to allow her entry. He closed the door behind him, effectively blocking all sounds from within from escaping. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that a silencing spell was firmly in place.

"Yer needn't look so worried, lad," the older gentlemen told Harry when he was about to go back to staring at his hands. Instead, he aimed his emerald gaze at the man and blinked in slight confusion.

"Sir?" He asked respectfully.

The man inclined his head towards the door and smiled. "They'll need an 'ole lot of people ter fix the right mess they're in, don'tcha think?"

"I suppose so, sir," Harry replied, shifting his hands in his lap. He really didn't feel up to conversation right now but didn't think it polite to just ignore the man. Instead, he refocused his attention and asked: "Are you here for the internship as well?" The man looked just a tad too old for that.

"Aye, lad," the man replied scornfully. "Ah done and messed up the job ah had in me previous life. So I've found meself with no choice but ter learn a new craft or two."

"And you chose to become a potioneer?" Harry asked incredulously. He glanced at the man's hands, half expecting them to be trembling but they were steady and slender.

"Why nae?" The man said. "It's rather interestin'. An' ah think I'm rather good at it. What about ye?"

"I'm not half bad," Harry told the man. "I haven't blown up a cauldron in years."

The man chuckled. "I 'aven't exactly got a clean record' meself," he said. "But as ah said, they be needin' lots of people to 'elp. They shan't turn us away, I'm certain of it."

"I sure hope so, sir," Harry said.

The man wanted to say more but thankfully, the door opened at that moment to allow Ms Williams to walk out. Her facial expression was one of concern but that could mean just about anything.

"Harry Potter," the man with the clipboard now said. Harry ignored the gasp that elicited from the older gentleman and rose from his seat.

"You may enter," clipboard man said and Harry walked inside, very aware of the door that closed behind him and the silencing spell that was cast at the hands of Caratacus Lovegood.

"Harry Potter," he greeted evenly, gesturing towards a chair for Harry to sit on. Harry noticed that Lovegood's eyes did not travel to his scar and that his name had been spoken just like any other name would be. This both pleased and worried Harry. Obediently, he took a seat.

"It is good to see you again, Master Lovegood," Harry said as cordially as he possibly could.

"Likewise, Mr Potter," Lovegood replied dismissively. "Now, if you could kindly fill in this questionnaire for me so we can see what it is you know."

A piece of parchment was shoved in front of Harry on which fifteen questions were asked. Harry frowned at them. They were so basic that any fifth-year could have answered them. He almost felt insulted.

'What is the main ingredient used in most antidotes?'
'A bezoar', obviously.

'What must you always remember when cutting up murtlap tentacles?'
Harry chuckled to himself in reminiscence before writing down: 'Remove the suction cups.'

'How can you check if a blood clotting potion has expired?'
'Its colour becomes brown instead of red.'

And so it continued. Halfway through the written test, Harry glanced up at Lovegood in disbelief. Was the man playing with him? Why were these questions so very basic? But Lovegood was scribbling away hastily while Harry took his test, clearly still working even while taking these interviews.

Harry suppressed a sigh and finished filling in all the questions, absolutely certain that he got every last one of them correct. He handed the test back to Lovegood who scanned it over before nodding.

"Very well, Mr Potter," he said. "You are hired. Please return at seven o'clock in the morning next week Monday. You will be working with healer Johnson. Ask for him when you floo in."

Lovegood then looked towards his assistant. "Call in the next one," he said and returned his attention to his work. Harry felt somewhat flabbergasted as he was ushered out of the room. Perhaps the older gentleman outside had been right and they were really desperate to get all the help they could get. Harry scoffed to himself. Hermione would have been able to get this internship as well had she so desired. Even Ron might have. On the other hand, no. No, he wouldn't have.

"John Scofield," the man with the clipboard called as Harry took some automatic steps forward. He glanced at Mr Scofield who winked slyly before entering the office full of confidence. Harry shook his head in disbelief and made for the front entrance where he would be flooing home.

He didn't even falter when he stepped out of the floo and into the house in Spinner's End, though the soot still clung to his robes as if he had cleaned the chimney in them. Snape was waiting for him, pretending to read a book. Harry knew he was pretending since he was still on the exact same page he had been on when Harry left.

"Interesting book, Severus?" Harry asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow in a feeble attempt to copy the dark Potions Master.

Snape smirked at him and put the book down. "How did it go?" he asked instead of replying to Harry's question.

Harry sighed and sank into the couch.

"That bad?" Snape asked, frowning in disbelief.

"Actually, no," Harry told him. "They practically threw the internship at me. It's like they're desperate or something."

"Why do you think so?" Snape asked.

Harry drew up his legs and folded them underneath him as he leaned on the armrest. "All I needed to do was fill out a lousy fifteen-question-questionnaire with questions that anyone who had gotten an OWL in potions would have been able to answer," he said bitterly. "They gave me the position on the spot but I think they gave it to practically anyone that showed up."

"You must understand that they're desperate," Snape pointed out. "They are tremendously shorthanded as it is, and people keep quitting on the spot."

"Still," Harry sighed. "They're going to have me do nothing but basic stuff."

"Then that is what you will do," Snape told him plainly. "You will create the most basic of potions and you will make them to be perfect. Perform to the best of your abilities and you will be trusted with more important tasks."

"Do you really think so?" Harry asked, completely unconvinced.

"Trust me," Snape said easily. "You will get your chance. As I said, they're constantly shorthanded and I'm certain that the time will come where they will be in need of your expertise. That's when you'll so kindly make yourself of use."

"And if they don't?" Harry asked.

"Even if they don't," Snape said, "you will still get the experience you need and the opportunity to learn new things. There is no rush."

Harry sighed, stealing one of Snape's biscuits. "No rush," he agreed.

That next Monday came very fast. Not wanting to be late, Harry had gotten up at five-thirty, took a quick shower and ate some breakfast – despite feeling nervous – leaving him enough time to wish Snape a good morning when the man got up at six forty-five and use the floo to get to St Mungo's.

He bypassed an already full waiting room to go the reception desk where a stocky bespectacled woman looked up at him with a questioning gaze.

"How can I help you?" she asked. Harry could hear the weariness in her voice and wondered just how long she had been working her shift already.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry informed her, ignoring the slight widening of her eyes. "I'm here for my internship. I'm supposed to ask for healer Johnson."

The receptionist sighed deeply and grabbed a clipboard. "Right," she said after a few seconds. "Healer Johnson should be waiting for you in laboratory seven. Just take the hall on the right and keep going until you reach the elevators. Take them down to level B-1 and keep walking until you reach number seven."

That sounded easy enough. "Thanks," Harry said. The receptionist was already looking over his shoulder to greet the next person in line and Harry took that as his cue to leave. He followed the instructions he had been given and ended up in his designated location with relative ease. The first thing he noticed when he reached level B-1 was how quiet the corridors were. He wondered if this was because of silencing spells or because of the lack of brewers. Deciding not to dwell on it, he walked into lab seven where a tall man was brewing what smelled like an antidote for lesser poisons. He looked up when Harry walked in and motioned for the boy to take a seat.

"I'll be right with you, Mr Potter," he said, stirring the potion. "I just need to focus on finishing this potion."

Seeing how he was a little bit early, Harry didn't mind. While healer Johnson was brewing, Harry looked around the room and found it ridiculously empty. It was a very large room that was a hundred feet long and thirty feet wide. Throughout the middle of the room stood a very long table that stretched from the front to the back of the room, a couple of stools on wheels resting underneath it.

The walls were lined with potion ingredients from top to bottom with large stairs attached to the shelves in order for the brewers to be able to get to them. Harry saw practically every ingredient he could imagine and that included even the rarest of sorts. Underneath the tables, there were also several shelves but these were lined with books to their fullest capacity which seemed to be more than it physically could be.

Many grates with empty cauldrons waited to be used, stirrers of every shape and size resting on the table. Parchment and quills could be found for when notes needed to be taken and there was even some chalk available that Harry could use for a containment field should he so desire.

"There," healer Johnson said as he hauled his cauldron off the fire. "That should do it. At least I hope so."

"It looks alright to me," Harry said.

"You would know, I suspect," Johnson pointed out. "While I do know some things about the brewing of potions, I am definitely no potioneer. But everyone needs to pitch in while people leave left and right."

"Why are people quitting?" Harry dared ask.

Johnson sighed. "The stress gets to them," he replied. "Many potions need to be brewed nowadays; Not only that but chief Lovegood wants a cure to be found for the sick muggles and when the potioneers are unable to do that, he can get somewhat cross."

"Am I the only one who will be working here, sir?" Harry asked as he glanced around the empty room once more.

"Normally I have one other person coming in," Johnson said, checking his watch. "But he seems to be running late. Not a good start to an internship, I daresay." He put his hands on his hips, looking into his cauldron for a moment before snapping his attention back to Harry.

"In any case, I'll be needing for you to brew three hundred pain-relieving potions today," he said. "Stocks are running low and our patients are suffering."

"Three hundred?" Harry gasped. "I don't think I can do that before five o'clock."

Johnson laughed out loud at that. "Mr Potter," he said. "None of us have the luxury of leaving on time. I suspect you will notice that soon enough. Ah, Mr Scofield, there you are."

Harry barely had the time to register the assumption that he would be staying until very late when the kindly older gentleman he had met earlier walked in with a big smile on his face.

"Sorry I'm late," John said. "The floo traffic was nae pleasant."

"Don't worry Mr Scofield," Johnson said, waving off his apology. "I need you to start brewing blood replenishing potions. About a hundred should do for now."

"Aye, Healer Johnson, ah will," John said, completely undeterred by the expected amount. He rolled up his sleeves and walked over to the left side of the table. Harry remained on the right side and did the same.

"I will leave you to it then," Johnson said. "If you need me, I'll be upfront with the patients."

"Aye, sir," John said at the same time that Harry said: "Yes, sir."

The healer left, leaving the two interns up to their own devices.

"I told yer tha' they would 'appily take anyone," John said as he gathered his ingredients. "They even took a chance on me."

"But there were others too," Harry pointed out. He got water started in eight cauldrons and started gathering his ingredients as well. "And they're not in here."

"This is lab seven," John replied easily, "I reckon tha' there are other brewers in the other labs as well."

"You're probably right," Harry said. He started preparing his ingredients, making sure to reactivate the ones he could with innate magic the same way Snape had taught him. He caught John glancing at him curiously a couple of times but didn't allow the man to distract him.

"At the risk of soundin' a wee bit dumb," John said after a while, "Magic is s'posed ta be detrimental ta potions innit?"

Harry smiled. "It is," he agreed. "But only if you don't know how to use innate magic. My Master showed me how."

"That's mighty interestin', tha' is," John said in obvious excitement. "An' who is yer Master, laddie?"

"Severus Snape," Harry said proudly. "He taught me everything I know."

"I've 'eard of 'im," John said, clumsily grinding some bat fangs. "He's in the practical Potioneer a lot int it he?"

"All the time," Harry agreed. "And he deserves to be. He's really good at what he does."

"I reckon' he is," John agreed, continuing to prepare his ingredients in silence. Harry – who was grateful that the man stopped asking questions, continued preparing his very large pile of ingredients with the expert motions of a seasoned brewer. He noticed that John was moving a lot slower as he was still trying to cut his ingredients as precisely as he could. He didn't show the automatic movements that Harry had already mastered and Harry wondered if the man would even be able to brew half of what he was ordered today.

It didn't take long for Harry to reach that point where he withdrew into his own thoughts and just created his potions without even thinking too much about it. It was when he felt most at peace and not even the impossible amount of potions they were expecting from him brought him any stress. It just made him all the more determined to show them all just what he was made of.

Methodically, he worked his eight cauldrons at once, bottling the finished potions expertly as soon as they were ready and placing them on the waiting tray. Every hour or so, a nurse would come to take the potions with her, whirling them off to wherever these potions got stored. John was also able to complete several potions each hour and although he didn't move as fast as Harry, his potions seemed to be well-brewed.

It was nearing midday and Harry had sent off his last cauldrons for cleaning, filling eight new ones with water when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hi, Harry."

He turned around to find Luna standing in the doorway, a satchel in her hand.

"Luna,' Harry greeted happily. He left his cauldrons for what they were and rushed over to give Luna a quick kiss. "What are you doing here?"

"It's nearly lunchtime," she said matter-of-factly. "You must be getting hungry." She smiled and extended the hand that held the satchel. Harry chuckled and looked at her.

"How did you even know that I neglected to bring lunch?" he asked.

"Did I know that?" Luna asked and Harry wondered if she was talking to him or to herself. "I suppose I might have. You need to take care of yourself before you can take care of others, don't you think?"

"Yer absolutely right, lassie," John said as he wiped his hands on a piece of cloth. "The lad is so caught up in 'is work tha' I dinnae think he would bother to eat."

Luna smiled kindly at him. "He gets like that sometimes," she said. "But that's alright. I'll look out for him."

"He's lucky ter 'ave ye," John said easily. "Name's John, by the way. John Scofield."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Scofield," Luna said, shaking his hand. "I'm Luna Lovegood."

"Like ther chief?" John asked. "Is he yer da'? Never mind. Tha's rude of me ter ask."

"Not at all," Luna said kindly. "The chief is my uncle. He's a very nice man."

"I reckon'," John replied. Harry glanced at him, willing the man to leave him to eat with Luna in peace and apparently he was smart enough to get the message.

"I'll be off ter continue brewin' now," John said all of a sudden. "I fear I'm somewhat be'ind."

"I'll see you in a bit," Harry said before joining Luna outside.

"He seems nice," Luna commented.

"Overly so," Harry said in exasperation. "I just want to focus on brewing but he seems to want to talk a lot."

"I'm sure he means well," Luna said as she hooked her arms around Harry's elbow. "He's no doubt eager to get to know you and learn from you. I got the sense that he's really interested in brewing."

"Well, he should be," Harry pointed out. "He's an intern here just like me."

"Then you should do your best to get along," Luna said. "You'll probably be spending a lot of time with him."

Harry groaned but nodded. "You're right," he said. "As you always are."

"How has your day been going?" Luna asked.

"Alright," Harry said. "I've only been brewing pain relief potions and it doesn't look like I'll be done with them for a while but it's actually been fun. There's something relaxing about methodically doing something you're good at. And I've brewed this potion so many times already, I know exactly how to brew it."

Luna and Harry went to sit down at a table in the courtyard of the hospital. It was a nice day out and Harry enjoyed the rays of sunshine that reached his skin. Luna started unpacking the duffle bag and revealed sandwiches with cheese as well as two pieces of treacle tart that Harry eyed hungrily.

"This is amazing, Luna," Harry said as he grabbed one of the sandwiches.

"You should thank your dad for this," Luna said evenly as she nibbled her own sandwich.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"He prepared this lunch for us," Luna said happily. "And then he flooed me and asked me to bring this to you. I think he thought you might have appreciated it."

Harry blushed slightly as he got started on his second sandwich. He couldn't believe how hungry he had gotten without even noticing it.

"It's nice how he's looking out for you," Luna then said. "Oh, this one is with jam. Want some?"

When Harry opened his mouth to reply, Luna took her chance and inserted the sandwich into Harry's mouth who took a bite before Luna retreated. He did his best not to choke on the unexpected bite of food and chewed it.

"It's good, isn't it?" Luna asked. She was leaning her head on her hand as she watched Harry rather coyly.

Harry laughed after he finally swallowed his food and claimed one of the pieces of treacle tart. "It was lovely, Luna," he said. "So how have you been getting on?"

"Oh, I've been enjoying my summer so far," Luna said dreamily. "I've already finished my potions essay for Professor Slughorn. He asked an essay about liquid luck but I think he would rather enjoy my addition about the Chinese Crane and how its presence seems to elicit the same effect."

"Does it?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I'm rather sure of it," Luna replied, now claiming the second piece of treacle tart. "My father went to China once. He met a crane in Xi'an that followed him around for the better part of the day. He's never been luckier."

"Your father has been to China?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Luna said. "He travels quite often. He's been to nearly every part of the world in his search of rare fauna and flora."

"Have you ever gone with him?" Harry asked, his piece of treacle tart now gone.

"Only very rarely," Luna replied. "I was at school during most of his travels and even during the summer vacation, he prefers to leave me at home. He tells me it's not safe, you see?"

Slyly, Luna slid the second half of her treacle tart over to Harry, smiling sweetly all the while.

Harry frowned as he stared at the piece of tart that seemed to mysteriously appear in front of him, not really registering where it came from. "He leaves you alone?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Luna said." But it's quite alright. He always brings me back something fascinating. And he has so many stories to tell."

Harry absentmindedly began eating the treacle tart as he thought about that. "I don't mean to be rude but doesn't that seem a bit…harsh?"

"Oh no," Luna objected. "He doesn't mean to be harsh at all. It's just that since my mother died, he sometimes seems to forget that I'm still there."

Harry grabbed Luna's hand concernedly and squeezed it.

"Don't feel sad, Harry," Luna told him before he could start comforting her. "I love my father very much and I know for sure that he feels the same. It's just that sometimes I need to take care of him as much as he needs to take care of me. It's like with you and Professor Snape."

"What?" Harry asked. "I don't think that's right. I haven't really done anything for Severus."

"You and I both know that that's not true," Luna told him. "And it's fine that way. It's nice to be depended on sometimes, don't you think?"

Harry thought about that, finally realizing that Luna had sneakily given him the largest part of her own piece of treacle tart. He smiled at the thoughtful girl and raised her hand to his lips to kiss it.

"You're amazing, Luna," he told her. "Thank you so much for keeping me company."

"Anytime, Harry," Luna said sweetly. "Now go on. Go back to saving the world again."

Harry chuckled. He got up, kissed the top of Luna's head and headed back to his lab. If she would manage to come over like this every now and then, he knew that he would make it through these days easily. With a spring in his step and a smile on his face, he went back to brewing the pain-relieving potions with renewed vigour.

It was past eleven o'clock when Harry finally stumbled out of the fireplace to get back home. The lights were out and the rooms were quiet. Snape had already gone to bed, no doubt. Harry yawned as he ran a hand through his hair, barely succeeding in keeping his eyes open. But he had done it. He had brewed all three hundred pain-relieving potions in one day.

He had gotten very surprised looks from healer Johnson when he announced his results and suspected that they might not even have expected Harry to finish his assignment in one day. John surely hadn't managed. He had only finished forty blood replenishing potions.

Harry dragged himself up the stairs and into his room, collapsing onto his bed without even taking his clothes and shoes off first. It didn't even take ten seconds for him to fall into a deep sleep that he would not stir from easily. That's why he didn't notice when Snape came into his room just twenty minutes later to remove his shoes, transfigure his clothes into pyjama's and lift his blankets to rest on top of him.

Per the norm, this will be the last update of the week. I will be back on Monday, though! Please tell me what you think through your fabulous reviews! I'm anxious to know how you feel about all of this.

Oh, and a happy birthday to Vueren!