Harry Potter Apprentice Potter by Draco664
Apprentice Potter Chapter 1 PrologueChapter 2 ConsequensesChapter 3 GrievancesChapter 4 WhoopsChapter 5 EvasionChapter 6 It's Fun to ArgueChapter 7 An Interesting MeetingChapter 8 Verbal SparingChapter 9 Girls are CrazyChapter 10 Training BeginsChapter 11 Head to HeadChapter 12 What the Hell Happened?Chapter 13 Happy Birthday to meChapter 14 Party TimeChapter 15 A Giant ProblemChapter 16 ConversationsChapter 17 Potter v MinistryChapter 18 What Have I Done?Chapter 19 Whoops (again)Chapter 20 ExplanationsChapter 21 Bridge Building for DummiesChapter 22 The Return of the Dark LordChapter 23 A Piercing HeadacheChapter 24 EpilogueChapter 25 The Final Battle Disclaimer
Chapter 1 Prologue Prologue This was going to be a very long ride. Very long in-deed. I stared sullenly out of the window, absently wat-ching the passing buildings on the almost oppressively silent ride back to my home. Well, back to Privet Drive. The tension in the air was palpable; I'd bet my entire Gringotts vault that if I suddenly clapped my hands or shouted 'Boo!', Dudley would die of fright, Aunt Petunia would have a heart attack and Uncle Vernon's inevitable aneurism would burst on the spot. Hmmm, tempting. Nah, not worth it. With the speed Uncle Vernon is driving, and the number of cars around, some poor bastard would end up with a ton and a half of out of control scrap metal rammed up his exhaust. The traffic is hectic, and London drivers are insane, but I wouldn't wish upon anyone the fate of having to be surgically separated from my relatives. I let my head rest against the window and sighed softly, trying to ease the emotional pressure. It didn't work at all, I still felt hemmed in. Up ahead, like a red wave flowing towards us, brake lights lit up on car af-ter car, and my Uncle was forced to hammer his foot down onto the brake to avoid hitting the car in front. I was glad I was wearing my seatbelt, and I bet Dudley
wishes he had been, once he pulled himself back in his seat. You know, my Uncle really does swear rather well. And his face really can turn a truly astonishing shade of purple. I would have sworn that you wouldn't be able to find that colour in nature. I again found myself sorely tempted to give him a fright. Just to see exactly how he would react. Again, I resisted with a sigh. After a few long moments, the traffic started to mo-ve along again. I glanced over at my Uncle, a man who seems to exude antisocialness from ten feet a-way. For the first time, I really looked carefully at this man, the man who married my mother's sister. His si-ze gave him the natural air of a bully and now, frustra-ted as he is, his bulk quivering with barely concealed rage, it made him even more intimidating. He leaned forward, the fungal growth on his upper lip he calls a moustache, twitching violently. Not a good sign. I si-lently switched my perspective to observe his indistinct reflection in the windscreen, and I noted with wry a-musement and a small smile that his right eye was twitching noticably. It wouldn't take Hermione to know what set my dear Uncle Vernon off like this. I'm quite sure that anyone, even a powerful wizard, would be highly stressed after being publicly threatened by a werewolf, a red-headed lunatic with an unhealthy obsession, a witch with technicolour hair and grizzled freak who looks like a
walking advertisement for personal injury lawyers sporting a magical blue eye that wandered so much it should have its own fucking passport. You know, I could almost hear the blood flowing through his veins. I could certainly see the vein in his neck throbing. I wondered what his blood pressure is right now. I seriously doubt that there is a blood pres-sure meter in the average muggle doctor's office that goes that high. Whatever the bloody things are called. A sudden cacophony of car horns sounded ahead of us, and the car swerved suddenly. I grunted involunta-rily as my head thumped against the window. I surrep-titiously rubbed my temple and look over to Dudley. No one noticed though, since Uncle Vernon had mas-hed his fist onto the horn and leaned even further for-ward to scream invectives point blank at the wind-screen. You know, for such an intellectual cripple, he can really be quite inventive if he needs to be. Though given the fact that the subjects of his ire are ignoring him to shout their own insults at the person ahead of themselves, I'm not sure what it accomplishes. Except of course, for having to wipe down the inside of the windscreen once he ran out of breath and imagination. Wonderful. Another job for me to do when we get home.Wash the car, inside and out. I really hate the annual trip back to Privet Drive. Ta-king my Potions OWL was more enjoyable than this. Hell, sitting through a double potions lesson was better than this. According to Dumbledore, I have to return for long enough each year that I can call it 'home'. I snorted softly, causing Dudley, the fat lump sitting next to me, to jump slightly.
