Advantages — perhaps. Miss Granger's diffidence and lack of confidence was a barrier to our work, in that I could not openly share with her, for those first few years, my plans for her education. (And indeed, I had those plans from the moment I realised her talent, and they only became more urgent once McGivern was killed: I knew that if Alice found a place to spend my death for advantage before we finished the Sleeper antidote, someone would need to take up my laboratory rôle, and quickly.) It took a great deal of time to ease her into matters, for all that she was eager to learn when she did not realise the extent of the hopes I was pinning upon her shoulders.
But at the same time, her background lent her a fierceness of cause — one matched by certain of her fellows, but never surpassed — and I was fortunate in that she chose to bend her intellect in the direction of my subject in no small part because it was a discipline she could practice with minimal wand-work. (Not only was the danger of someone discovering that she had a wand perpetually hanging over our heads, but neither she nor I had been fortunate enough to find a wand that was a true fit for us. I very nearly came to regret that fact when Draco and I went to burn out the Ministry's archives after Draco's 'death'; we are all, I suppose, fortunate that control of Fiendfyre depends more on the caster's will and less on his relationship with his wand.) Had she grown to adulthood in a Hogwarts where she had been able to study the full range of disciplines, I do wonder if she would have taken to Potions so fiercely; I have been most pleased to watch her expand her range of talents and expertise over the last decade and a half. (I often wonder what Filius would have made of her, or Minerva if she had not been forced to keep herself so apart, or Albus if he had been able to narrow his grand vision so far.)
Azkaban — it is odd, really, to think that had the Dark Lord not chosen to imprision me for so long, I might have continued at Hogwarts, spending every last bit of my forbearance upon the need to drill into the heads of idiotic and slothful firsties why one always reads the full receipt before beginning brewing, with none of you lot the least bit wiser as to where my true loyalties rested until such time as it became necessary to share. Azkaban taught me many things: patience, and fortitude, and the depths of what truly does and does not matter. I doubt I would have had the patience to see Miss Granger through to her Mastery without breaking her spirit without having had those lessons drilled into me. I came out of Azkaban having been melted down in its crucible, with the dross of all but the vital pieces burned away. It was a small enough price to pay for the advantage it afforded us all, I suppose.
no subject
But at the same time, her background lent her a fierceness of cause — one matched by certain of her fellows, but never surpassed — and I was fortunate in that she chose to bend her intellect in the direction of my subject in no small part because it was a discipline she could practice with minimal wand-work. (Not only was the danger of someone discovering that she had a wand perpetually hanging over our heads, but neither she nor I had been fortunate enough to find a wand that was a true fit for us. I very nearly came to regret that fact when Draco and I went to burn out the Ministry's archives after Draco's 'death'; we are all, I suppose, fortunate that control of Fiendfyre depends more on the caster's will and less on his relationship with his wand.) Had she grown to adulthood in a Hogwarts where she had been able to study the full range of disciplines, I do wonder if she would have taken to Potions so fiercely; I have been most pleased to watch her expand her range of talents and expertise over the last decade and a half. (I often wonder what Filius would have made of her, or Minerva if she had not been forced to keep herself so apart, or Albus if he had been able to narrow his grand vision so far.)
Azkaban — it is odd, really, to think that had the Dark Lord not chosen to imprision me for so long, I might have continued at Hogwarts, spending every last bit of my forbearance upon the need to drill into the heads of idiotic and slothful firsties why one always reads the full receipt before beginning brewing, with none of you lot the least bit wiser as to where my true loyalties rested until such time as it became necessary to share. Azkaban taught me many things: patience, and fortitude, and the depths of what truly does and does not matter. I doubt I would have had the patience to see Miss Granger through to her Mastery without breaking her spirit without having had those lessons drilled into me. I came out of Azkaban having been melted down in its crucible, with the dross of all but the vital pieces burned away. It was a small enough price to pay for the advantage it afforded us all, I suppose.