Harry Potter: A Tale of Revenge

"So," he started. "We're now through our first month of classes. What do we think of our so called golden year? Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva tapped a rhythm on one skirted knee. "Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass, and Mister John Potter."

There was a susurration of murmuring around the group.

He sat down and popped another muggle sweet. "Oh yes?"

"Yes, Dumbledore. All three of these students are so far beyond their class mates as to be unbelievable. John Potter's homework is clearly fourth year level. Miss Granger's is third year, and Miss Greengrass' is late second at least and I've already seen improvements in just the last four weeks in both of them."

Babbling returned and sat down with a huge grin on her young face. The screen updated a large X next to the name 'I WILL RUNE YOU'.

Flitwick nodded. "Indeed, Minerva-"

Vector stood and made her way to the front.

"-Those three students are quite something else. Miss Greengrass and Miss Granger spend almost their entire class time fine-tuning control of their spells rather than learning them."

Severus grumbled something incoherent.

Minerva nodded.

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "And what do you think, Professor Quirrell?"

"I agree with those assessments. Miss Greengrass and Miss Granger are… unique students. But it is Mister Potter who most catches my interest."

Dumbledore stopped mid beard stroke. "Oh?"

"Mister Harry Potter."

Dumbledore chuckled while inside his heart leapt. "And what is it about our young saviour's brother that interests you?"

Quirrell made a vague hand waving motion. "Oh, this and that. For starters he possesses situational awareness that I rarely see in wizards thrice his age."

Dumbledore frowned. That… was not what he expected to hear. "Situational awareness?"

"He is very good at spotting a dangerous situation and adjusting his behaviour accordingly."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. In many ways, he reminds me of a younger version of myself."

"Hey, Filius, you're up!" Vector arrived back and high-fived the diminutive professor. The screen flashed a seven next to the name 'THE PRIME MINISTER'.

"Really?" Dumbledore watched his pink bludger roll back into the ready rack as though by magic. "Are you perhaps thinking of taking on an apprentice?"

Quirrell made a face. "No, thank you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded and looked away from Tom's vessel. "Well, do keep an eye on him. Its in all our interests to see both Potter boys grow up into strong, powerful young wizards."

Filius zoomed towards the seated witches and wizards on his knees, both hands in the air. "Strike!" He came to a stop between the two rows. The screen flashed, and an X appeared next to the name 'PINT SIZED CHARMER'.

Dumbledore frowned. If Filius won again, it would be his fifth in a row. Damn duelling champion.

...

Hermione's next free period found her walking towards the Hogwarts infirmary clasping five thick textbooks to her chest. She nudged open the door and stuck her head through the gap. The pristine clean interior reminded her of her parent's practise. The smell of bleach filled her nostrils. "Um… Madam Pomfrey?"

"Ah." Madam Pomfrey bustled around a corner at the far side of the long, bed-filled room. "You're here. Good, good. Come in."

Hermione entered.

"Take a seat." The older witch gestured to a stack of folding chairs. "And, Miss Granger?"

Hermione froze while reaching for a chair. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey?"

Pomfrey put a single hand on her hip. " Now, Miss Granger, you may call me Healer Pomfrey."

Hermione flushed. "Ah, right, yes… er, Healer Pomfrey." She sat down next to a bed and waited.

A few moments later, an older Ravenclaw girl entered.

"Miss Clearwater," Pomfrey gestured to a desk in the back. "Box number eleven. I want a full diagnostics and report. Then I'll approve or disapprove your treatment recommendation."

"Yes, Healer." The girl walked to the back of the room.

Hermione craned her neck to see what the Ravenclaw was up to, but couldn't get line of sight.

A few minutes later, what looked like a seventh year Hufflepuff boy entered, and, once again, he was directed to a separate desk towards the back of the room.

Eventually, after several more minutes, during which time she was too anxious to even open one of the many thick books in front of her, Healer Pomfrey returned from whatever task she'd been handling, pulled up a chair, and sat down opposite her.

"Miss Granger, I'll be upfront about this." The healer put a small pile of parchments down on a small table next to her. "I think you're too young for this."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but a held-up hand stopped her.

" I think you're too young, but apparently, it's not my business to decide who joins our program." She sniffed. "So, you're just going to have to make up ground as we go. And quickly."

Hermione made small, rapid nods.

"This program is intended to replicate the first eighteen months of St. Mungo's healer training, part time, over five years. Although in your case, who knows. You've got seven years to work with, but I'll be damned if you just waste those extra two years. Clear?"

Again, she nodded.

"Right. The first year of the program is spent on the basics of first aid and dealing with common physical injuries. These include broken bones, flesh wounds, torn ligaments, sprains, and internal bleeding. We'll start with a demonstration and then I'll assess your capabilities to actually do the practise considering your disadvantage."

She nodded.

"Follow me."

....

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