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HP452- Career Advice!
🕑 Added 2025-06-19 23:59:16 +0000 UTCThe silence was sharper this time. Less confusion, more disbelief.
“You are serious,” Su Li said after a moment.
“Of course he is,” Daphne muttered, arms folded. “You think he’s been spending all his free time knitting?”
Lavender raised a hand slightly, like she was half-joking. “Wait... what do you mean you’ve got them? You’ve found all six? Already?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “Took some digging. Bit of help. But they’re accounted for.”
“Alright, so,” Megan said, slow and careful, “if they are all handled, why are you the only one who can kill him?”
Harry gave a dry little smile. “That part is less clear. Flamel reckon it is prophecy nonsense. Something about ‘marked as his equal’ and only I can finish him off. But the Horcrux bit... that is actual logic. Anyone could kill him if he is mortal again. They just need to hit the mark before he gets smart and starts making more anchors.”
Susan leaned forward. “So if Voldemort’s planning a move on the Department of Mysteries... then it is not just about you. He wants the prophecy too.”
“Probably wants to hear it in full,” Harry said. “All he knows is part of it. And if he gets the rest...”
“Could change tactics,” Daphne muttered. “Could start going after someone else if he thinks it matters.”
Cedric frowned. “Is that possible?”
“Maybe,” Harry said. “But the thing about Voldemort is, he only trusts what he hears for himself. He won’t rest until he’s got the whole thing in his hands.”
“Which is why he will go for it,” Hermione said, flipping to a new page. “And now we know when.”
Luna, who’d been quiet until now, finally looked up. “If he steals it on the twentieth... do we let him?”
Tracey blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“I mean,” Luna said simply, “if he wants it that badly, maybe we use that. Let him try. We will be there.”
Ginny grinned. “Trap him.”
“It is an option,” Harry said, voice light but eyes sharp. “But only if we are sure he is coming. Otherwise, we are just throwing people into an elaborate trap.”
“Then we confirm,” Daphne said. “Get the Ministry to track movements. Watch the Department entrance. Seal the prophecy room early if we have to.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll speak to Aunty Amelia. Then we prepare. But we don’t get sloppy. Voldemort’s not the type to walk into a Ministry stronghold unless he’s sure he can walk back out.”
“Which means someone’s made it easy for him,” Daphne said, arms folded.
“Or he’s got something we don’t,” Tracey added. “Ministry wards don’t bend that easy.”
“They do if someone on the inside wants them to,” Hermione muttered, flipping a page in her logbook. “There are only three people who can access the Hall of Prophecy without triggering the full alarm. Department Head, Unspeakables on rotation, and the subject of the prophecy.”
“That is you, mate,” Neville said, leaning over to take a look at the parchment Harry had laid out. "And Voldemort himself."
Harry clapped Neville on the shoulder. “Well, OWLs are first. Don’t flunk just because you think you’ll be saving the world.”
Neville gave a weak grin. “Reckon I could use a study schedule before a battle plan.”
“Good. Stick to that.” Harry stood straighter. “I will handle the Ministry end. You just focus on Herbology and not burning down the greenhouse.”
“Once,” Neville muttered. “That happened once.”
As June rolled in, the castle took on a sharper edge. The fifth-years were nearly feral over OWLs—late nights, snapped quills, and stolen sugar quills becoming routine. Between revision and the usual chaos, everyone had their scheduled “career guidance” chat with their Head of House. For most, it was a brief chat about N.E.W.T. requirements and job prospects. But Harry wasn’t most.
The office was the same... dim and vaguely cluttered. He stepped in to find all four Heads waiting, McGonagall at the desk, arms neatly folded, Sprout tucked into one armchair, Flitwick perched on a stool near the cabinet of odd devices, Snape at the hearth, as if he’d claimed the shadows there by birthright. And, for some reason, Tonks was leaning against the bookshelf, wand tucked behind her ear and a half-eaten apple in hand.
“Mr Potter,” McGonagall started, nodding once.
“Professors,” Harry returned, taking the seat without waiting for invitation. He glanced at Tonks. “You joining the heads now?”
“I like to supervise,” Tonks replied, grinning. “Also, Bones asked for a word with you. I got roped in.”
“Lovely,” Harry muttered.
Snape gave a faint scoff. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
McGonagall slid a folder across the desk. “Normally, we would ask about your academic interests and where you see yourself after Hogwarts. But that would be redundant, wouldn’t it?”
Harry flipped the folder open. Blank page inside. “You are not expecting me to write an essay, are you?”
McGonagall rubbed the bridge of her nose. “No, Potter. We don’t have advice for you, actually. You are excelling in every subject. No gaps. No weak points. Frankly, it is becoming a concern.”
Harry raised a brow. “Because I am doing well?”
“Because,” she continued, folding her hands on the desk, “you are doing too well. We are worried you might skew the entire OWL curve. Some of your yearmates may be affected.”
Harry let out a short laugh. “What do you suggest, then? That I hold back?”
“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered.
Tonks grinned from her corner. “Could always make him sit the tests in Gobbledegook.”
“Which I do read, by the way,” Harry said, flipping the blank page in the folder just to see if there was anything hidden. Still nothing.
Snape squinted at him from his spot by the hearth. “I expect nothing less than an Outstanding in Potions, Potter. Don’t you dare hold back.”
Harry gave a sharp salute, not bothering to sit up straighter. “Absolutely not. I’m aiming even higher.”
Sprout, who had been quietly sipping something from a steaming cup, let out a surprised yelp. “Higher than an Outstanding?”
Harry leaned back with a grin. “What if I throw the committee so far off they have to invent a new grade just for me? Wouldn’t mess with the curve.”
Flitwick chuckled from his stool, adjusting his spectacles. “Inventing a new academic standard... now that would be quite the legacy.”
“Better than burning down the school,” Tonks added, chewing the last of her apple. “Though with your luck, you might manage both.”
Snape rolled his eyes but said nothing. McGonagall only sighed.
“We are aware you are more than capable, Mr. Potter,” she said, clasping her hands atop the desk. “Frankly, too capable. You’ve mastered every subject we offer, outpaced your peers, and undermined every expectation I had left.”
Harry smiled innocently. “Thank you, Professor. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment.”
McGonagall gave him a sharp look. “It was not.”
Tonks snorted. “Let him enjoy it. Merlin knows he won’t get another before graduation.”
Sprout leaned forward, tapping her fingers against the armrest. “So, Harry dear, what are you planning to do once all this is done? Any thoughts yet?”
“Which bit?” Harry asked. “Graduating or ending a war?”
That earned him a few flat stares.
Snape raised an eyebrow. “You find humour in every situation. A concerning trait.”
“I find humour where I can, sir,” Harry said. “Occupational hazard.”
McGonagall gave a brief nod and pushed the folder aside. “This isn’t a typical guidance meeting, as I am sure you’ve noticed. We were asked to assess your readiness... not academically, but practically. Auror work, politics, research... It is clear you could pursue any of them.”
Harry tilted his head. “Haven’t made my mind up. Might wait and see how many more Ministry offices catch fire before applying.”
Snape muttered, “Prudent.”
Flitwick, still scribbling something on the edge of a scrap of parchment, looked up. “What about research? Spellcraft, theory? You’ve a gift for it, Mr. Potter.”
Harry shrugged. “I like tinkering. But I am not locking myself into anything yet. World’s still spinning too fast.”
McGonagall looked almost impressed, which was rare enough to count as a red-letter event. “Well,” she said, steepling her fingers, “as I mentioned, these sessions usually focus on guiding students toward the right N.E.W.T. subjects based on their intended careers. But in your case, I assume you’re not planning to focus?”
Harry gave a nod. “Yes, Professor.”
She sighed in that familiar McGonagall way... equal parts tired and mildly exasperated. “Then let’s get to the point. Which exams will you be sitting?”
Harry tilted his head like it should’ve been obvious. “All of them.”
That earned a small rustle of movement from the others. Even Flitwick blinked once.
“All?” Sprout repeated, frowning. “But you haven’t applied for a Time Turner, have you? And you weren’t enrolled in every elective.”
Harry nodded, not missing a beat. “I can still take OWLs even if I haven’t taken the electives. So yes, I will be taking all.”
Tonks blinked. “All as in… all?”
“As in the full list,” Harry replied, “Even Divination, if you are feeling nostalgic.”
“I am not,” Snape said flatly.
“Shame,” Harry muttered. “I had a lovely vision about cauldrons exploding.”
Flitwick coughed to cover a laugh.
Tonks leaned in from her perch. “What about Muggle Studies?”
“I lived most of my life on the other side,” Harry said. “I should be writing the exam.”
Snape gave a slow blink. “He is not wrong.”
McGonagall nodded. “As will be reported. We wish you good luck, Mr. Potter.”
Harry stood, pocketing the folder with a faint grin. “I make my own luck, Professor.”
Tonks gave a low whistle. “Look at him, already halfway to being Minister.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Harry said, tipping an imaginary hat to her before turning toward the door.
McGonagall waved him off with a flick of her hand. “Out with you. The rest of your year still has proper anxiety to endure.”
“Wouldn’t want to deprive them,” Harry said, stepping out with a short nod to Flitwick and Sprout, and a grin tossed over his shoulder.
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