The New Professor
“And you never got his name?” James’ brown eyes were alight with curiosity.
Sirius had given them all the rundown of his incident with the mystery boy as soon as he found their train compartment, which all of them found as interesting and confusing as Sirius did.
“No, he completely ignored me when asked.” Sirius groaned, leaning against James’ shoulder. “Evasive little bugger.”
“If I broke into someone's house and destroyed one of their family heirlooms, I doubt I'd feel like sharing my identity either.” Peter mused, leaning his chin on his palms. He sat across from them in the train compartment, Remus beside him. “Are you really surprised by it?” Sirius scowled, but he knew Peter was right.
“What did Walburga have to say about the clock?” Remus asked. He watched Sirius with open concern. “Was she upset at all?”
“Surprisingly, no.” Sirius hummed. “I think she chose not to investigate because the thing was so damn old anyway, she had no love lost for it. Plus, it probably never occurred to her that some guy mysteriously fell into our sitting room and landed on top of it.”
“Yeah, that's not an easy one to guess.” James grinned.
“You said he was about our age?” Peter prompted.
“Yeah, sixteen or seventeen.” Sirius confirmed. “Eighteen at the very oldest. He wasn't very tall, but he was muscular. Definitely in good shape.”
“You had the time to admire his muscles but not get his name?” Remus raised an eyebrow. Sirius flushed.
“I wasn't admiring, I was just noticing! I wasn't particularly staring or anything, it was a passive observation.” Sirius sputtered. “Besides, his arms were on full display and his name wasn't.”
“Defensive there Pads.” James teased. Sirius shoved off him with a huff.
“Can we focus?” Sirius demanded. “The point is he's young and powerful, got it?”
“I'm just saying.” James raised his hands in defeat, grinning. “But you're right about one thing, it's definitely strange.”
“Could he have been some sort of poltergeist?” Peter suggested. “They can be solid enough to smash things, can get into places even when they're warded against entry, and tend to have intuitive navigational skills.”
“No, he seemed a little banged up from the fall.” Sirius said. “Though, otherwise that's a good theory.”
“Why does it matter anyway?” James asked then, “Who cares if the wards around Grimmauld Place fell? It's not like you enjoy living there.”
“But if the wards are down and nobody notices, Sirius could be in danger when he returns home after the school year.” Remus pointed out.
“If he goes back.” James corrected. “I'm still trying to convince him he's safer with me.” He gave Sirius a pointed look. “I was sorta expecting you this summer, if I'm honest. But you never came.”
“I almost did.” Sirius smiled awkwardly. “In fact, my bags were packed and I was leaving when that mystery boy interrupted everything. I was actively running away.”
“Wow.” Remus blinked. “What prompted that?”
“Do I need a reason?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Remus replied evenly. “You wouldn't just run away from Grimmauld Place for no reason, even out of anger towards your parents. So what happened?”
Sirius swallowed thickly. “Okay, well, you'll love this…”
Sirius tried for cheer, but as he recalled his impending doom his throat grew tight and his voice cracked, vulnerability shining through every word. Remus squeezed his knee, James held his hand, Peter switched booths to sit beside Sirius and share his warmth. It was comforting, enough to calm Sirius from the breakdown he'd been slowly building up to as the school year approached; the school year always flew by, classes and Quidditch and flirting and pranks keeping every moment full and fast, which meant it wouldn't be long before Sirius was to be branded like cattle and gifted to a madman as a sacrificial lamb to redeem tainted blood. It wasn't long before his life was officially over.
Sirius would rather die than become a Death Eater, become a pawn for someone else's every whim, and his friends well knew it.
The rest of the train ride was accompanied by softly murmured reassurance and quiet rebellious planning. James tried to lighten the mood by suggesting Sirius run away as he first planned, go through with it and never go back to face the threatened consequences; Sirius made it unequivocally clear that wasn't an option. Not with Regulus on the line.
Arriving at Hogwarts was almost as comforting as usual. He still felt that warmth, that relief, that softness that loosened the tension in his body and boosted his confidence. The only thing it couldn't do was reassure Sirius that everything was going to be okay. He wasn't sure it would be - for all he knew, he wouldn't make it to his seventh year.
The others seemed to guess his melancholy mood, but Sirius decided to pick himself up and push onward. He had an entire school year between now and when he'd be branded for his blood and probably killed, which meant Sirius didn't have to worry about it just yet.
“Bloody hell, she gets more beautiful every year.” James breathed, staring across the courtyard as they unloaded from the carriages. Following his gaze, Sirius saw Lily Evans with a group of her friends, laughing.
“There there.” Peter patted him on the shoulder with a huff. “Don't stare, you know she doesn't like it.”
“But look at her.” James practically had hearts in his eyes as he watched Evans swiftly weaving her hair into two braids to tie over her shoulders, keeping thick waves out of her face. “She's gorgeous.”
“Keep it moving Romeo.” Remus rolled his eyes.
“Romeo?” James blinked.
“It's Shakespeare.” Remus said. Then he sighed. “A Muggle thing, nevermind.”
Remus led the way into the Great Hall easily, chatting to James to redirect him from Evans. As they got older James’ crush on Evans had grown from puppy love to true admiration - if Evans ever gave him a chance, Sirius knew for sure James would never let her down. He wouldn't dare.
But Sirius froze completely when, while scanning his surroundings and soaking in the view of Hogwarts, he spotted a familiar face up by the High Table.
Sirius’ mystery boy was standing on the ledge just in front of the High Table, where the first years go to be Sorted, leaning one elbow on the table as he engaged the Headmaster in conversation. Dumbledore was smiling, smoothly chatting back to him, and Sirius was astonished to see the boy laughing and speaking to the Headmaster like they were friends. Sirius hadn't even met the Headmaster, let alone spoken to him often enough to be friends!
"That's him!" Sirius exclaimed, pointing across the room, "That's him, over there, talking to Professor Dumbledore!" His friends all followed his indication with varying levels of surprise.
“You're right, he is hot.” Remus blurted, staring. “I can see why you noticed his muscles, Pads.”
“Remus!” Sirius exclaimed, again flushing. “Can we focus? That's the boy that crashed into my living room!”
“We hear you, but we need to sit down.” Peter said, grabbing Sirius’ hand. “Don't draw too much attention to it.” Peter led them all to stools at the Gryffindor table, though Sirius’ eyes were pinned to the mystery boy.
“Why is he here?” Sirius couldn't help but say, “And how does he know the Headmaster?” Sirius didn't know a single kid their age that had personally spoken to the Headmaster even once. So how did this guy manage to seemingly befriend the most powerful wizard of the century?
“Well they'll probably tell us.” James reasoned. “If he's up there with the Headmaster, in full view of the entire room, Professor Dumbledore will have to say something about it.”
"Oh!” Peter exclaimed suddenly, “Check the map! It'll tell us."
“Why didn't I think of that?” Sirius face-palmed. “Go on, bring it out!’
"Alright alright, Merlin, calm down." James muttered. He reached into his robes to pull it out and subtly opened it in his lap. "Okay… here…" They all leaned in to look as James flipped and unfolded to reveal the section designated for the Great Hall. They all squinted to search.
Meal times were never a great time to view the Map, names and footsteps overlapped and into a bit of a mess on the page, but luckily the boy stood near the High Table. It made it slightly easier to search for a name that didn't belong up with the Professors. Their search quickly stopped dead when they found a name they recognised - specifically, a last name they recognised.
~ Harry Potter ~
Sirius looked up after a moment of stunned silence and gasped. Sirius could see it - the resemblance. The thin, angular shape of his face, the dark messy hair; the way his face lit up when he grinned, his features alight with slight mischief; the way he gesticulated, speaking and motioning with his hands just as James did; even their glasses were similar! It was easy to miss, but seeing as he spent every waking moment with James, practically his brother, Sirius couldn't believe he hadn't noticed their likeness sooner.
"You didn't say you had Potter relatives." Peter looked at James curiously, "Have you met him before?"
"No." James' voice was very small, "I have no idea who he is. I thought… I thought my line was the only one." Sirius reached over to squeeze his hand, but said nothing.
Their group sat quietly as Sorting began, sitting together in stunned and confused silence as McGonagall called names and placed the Hat on every first year one by one. Harry Potter, meanwhile, had moved to stand against the wall, still up on the dais, and watched the Sorting with a small smile.
When it was over, the stool cleared and scroll stored away for another year, McGonagall withdrawing and the Hall silent, the Headmaster stood with a bright smile and spread his arms wide.
"Welcome, students!" Professor Dumbledore said warmly, and loudly. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I hope you are all looking forward to another year of learning, as I am. However! Before we begin our meal, I have a special announcement to make. I'd like to introduce you all to this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.” He gestured to Harry Potter, who pushed off the wall with a grin and strode to the center of the dais.
“My name is Professor Peverell.” Harry Potter said, making every marauder freeze. “I may look young, perhaps no older than a seventh year, but I assure you all I am more than qualified to be teaching.”
“Professor Peverell is one of the most talented wizards I've ever met.” Dumbledore praised, smiling joyfully at ‘Professor Peverell’ as the boy moved to take a seat at the High Table beside Professor McGonagall. “He is equipped with plentiful knowledge and experience that will raise your education higher than ever. Take his wisdom and training to heart, as it will serve you greatly in all your future endeavors.”
“He's flattering me.” Potter/Peverell said, grinning out at the Hall from his new vantage point.
“And rightfully so.” The Headmaster laughed fondly. “You see, I trained Professor Peverell myself.” The Hall burst into whispers and murmurs and exclamations of surprise or interest, but Dumbledore merely clapped his hands for quiet. “Now! Let the meal begin!”
The food shimmered onto the tables, a feast laid out before them, and the clammer of unrest was quickly swallowed by students pushing the new Professor aside and focusing on their food. After all, they got a new Professor every year due to that silly curse business - what was another weird Professor in the grand scheme of things? Nothing important.
Except to the Marauders, of course.
“He lied.” James stared blankly at the High Table. “He lied.”
“Maybe he had a reason.” Peter said, frowning. “Maybe he doesn't want people knowing he's a Potter.”
“Why?” James was clearly struggling to keep his voice down, but they all knew this wasn't something they could blurt out to everyone in their vicinity. “What reason could he possibly have to lie about his identity?”
“I wonder if the Headmaster knows.” Remus muttered, eyeing them both. “If Professor Dumbledore trained him personally, as he said he did, then surely he must know Peverell's real name.”
“I bet we'll find out more after our first class with him.” Peter said. “Maybe he'll mention it or something.”
“Oh yeah, I can just picture that.” James drawled, “Good morning class, I'm a teenager teaching teenagers how to pass their exams, by the way I'm hiding my identity. Open your books!”
“James.” Peter sighed.
“What?” James angrily stuffed the Map back into his bag, crumpling it more than necessary. “I'm right, aren't I?” Peter sensed there was no point arguing, so he merely sighed again and fell silent.
—~—~—~—~—
It was four days before they had Defense Against the Dark Arts with ‘Professor Peverell’. That was four days too long for James and by the time class was upon them he was practically trembling head to toe.
Remus, their emotional support werewolf, held James’ hand all day leading up to class. James clung to him rather desperately. It was one thing to find out there was another Potter line, it was another to learn they were actively hiding.
Professor Peverell's classroom was airy and open. The desks were evenly spaced close to the back of the room, the front completely open with lots of space for, presumably, spell practice and/or dueling. The walls were decorated with tapestries depicting different spells in use, as well as famous witches and wizards from all backgrounds and Houses. Sirius recognized some of them, but not all.
“Welcome in, take your seats.” Professor Peverell was standing at the front of the room, smiling out at them. If it weren't for the nice black slacks and white button-up look, he could've been mistaken for a student. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. As you all know, this is a N.E.W.T level Defense Against the Dark Arts class with an accelerated learning curve and a strict curriculum to prepare you for the end of year exams, of which mimic the real N.E.W.T exams you'll be taking at the end of next year, your seventh year. Safe to say, this is an extremely important year to learn and grow as not only students, but as people.”
“Now, despite how important this class is for your success, this first lesson will begin with a different focus.” Professor Peverell smiled, looking out at each of them. “I can imagine you all have questions regarding my age, my talents, my qualifications, and my background; this is the time to ask any and all questions you have to put to rest your curiosity. You may not think this is a productive way to spend our precious time together, but I've found itching questions burning in the back of your minds can impair your ability to pay attention and be detrimental to your education in the long run. As such, we will begin by discussing what you have to say about me. One question per student, whenever you are ready.”
The class reaction was immediate, every student straightening as they considered this opportunity. It was clear to Sirius that this was a one-time thing, a proposal that would expire when class ended and any further queries would be dismissed swiftly. He and the rest of his friends exchanged determined looks..
“How old are you?” Benjy Fenwick, a fellow Gryffindor, called out first.
“I'm nineteen.” Peverell said. “I was born July 31st of 1957.”
“What's your House?” Marlene Mckinnon spoke up, another Gryffindor. “Or, did you even attend Hogwarts at all?”
“I didn't attend Hogwarts the way you all did, nor did I Sort into a Hogwarts House.” Peverell answered smoothly. “Though, Dumbledore said I had a bit of it all inside me.”
“What did the Headmaster mean when he said he trained you?” It was a Slytherin who spoke, one Sirius vaguely recognized as Evan Rosier. “Did you take private lessons with him instead of joining your year at Hogwarts?”
“In a way, yes.” Peverell paced the front of the room. “Dumbledore oversaw my education and offered me advice in plenty. He had a hand in raising me, and he was sorta always… looming.” A quirked sort of smile slipped onto his face - nostalgic and a bit sad.
“What Peverell line are you from?” Avery, another Slytherin Sirius barely knew, asked. He sounded extremely skeptical. “It's said their line ended centuries ago.”
“Ah, you see, you mustn’t believe everything you hear in the stories.” Peverell winked at him. Avery flushed. “In truth, the Peverell line became extinct through the male line, and I got my name from my mother. She kept her name even after marriage, and passed it to me before she died.”
“What's your father's name, then?” Avery asked, possibly even more suspicious now. “And why didn't you take his name as is traditionally done?”
“Ah, one question per person.” Peverell laughed lightly.
“I'll take the question, then.” Albert Wilkes, sitting next to Avery, spoke up. “Same question.” Peverell laughed again, a simple spark or amusement in his terribly green eyes.
“I never knew my father, he died before I was born.” Peverell admitted. “Mother never spoke of him, nor did she honor me with his last name. All I know is that he had hair like mine, a love of Quidditch, and his name was Henry.”
“Henry.” James breathed. “Oh Merlin.” Remus squeezed his hand with a slight frown.
“What is it?” Remus murmured, leaning closer.
“My dad's brother, Henry, disappeared a couple years before I was born.” James looked almost in tears. “We never knew what happened to him. We didn't even know Uncle Henry was married.”
“Oh, Jamie.” Remus leaned over and plopped his head on James’ shoulder. Sirius couldn't imagine how James was feeling, learning he had a cousin who didn't even know who he was.
Around them, their peers were still asking questions.
“What prompted you to teach?” Dorcas Meadowes, one of their best friends in Ravenclaw, was asking. “And so young?”
“I'm good at Defence, and I'm good at teaching.” Peverell grinned. “I actually taught an informal class of my peers when I was fifteen, and it went really well. After that I kept on learning and helping out where I could. I was lost for a few years after that, but when I finally made it out the other side I decided I'd take what I learned from it all and do some good with it.”
“That's very admirable.” Dorcas told him with a small smile.
“Thank you.” Peverell said, offering a smile in kind.
“I've got a question.” A Hufflepuff, Sirius remembered he was Adrian or something, raised his hand. “Are you single, Professor?” Peverell immediately laughed.
“That is–” Peverell covered his mouth as laughter poured out, loud and real and… adorable. “Oh Lord Ha! That's not a question I'm going to answer.” Peverell straightened, giggling. “That's not a very appropriate question.”
“Hey, you've only got three years on us.” Adrian winked at him. “I can wait.”
“Well, don't hold your breath.” Peverell grinned. “And with that, I believe we are out of time. Please collect your things and be ready to learn during our next class on Tuesday. Have a great rest of your day, and enjoy your classes!”
—~—~—~—~—
“Gah! What in the blasphemous fucking audacity is this bloody bullshit!” James thrust the Marauders Map into Sirius’ hands, tossing it aside like garbage. If not for the unbreakable charm, he might've ripped it right in half. “We've lost him again.”
“Calm down.” Remus rubbed James’ arm gently, soothingly. “Maybe it's time we try another strategy.”
“I really thought tailing him would work, especially since we've got the Map.” James muttered, burying his face in his hands. “But he's gave us the slip five times now. How is that even possible?”
Sirius held his tongue, unable to offer consoling words as Remus and Peter were doing; Sirius already knew following Professor Peverell around wouldn't work, he'd voiced it when James first proposed the idea two weeks ago. He reminded James that their new Professor was still the same guy who just appeared in Sirius’ sitting room with no explanation, and left shortly after just as mysteriously. It made perfect sense he couldn't be followed or tracked, even on their enchanted Map.
“It's always in the same spot, too.” James groaned. “That stupid spot on the seventh floor, just below the Astronomy Tower. It's like he's using it as some sort of escape, or a hiding spot!”
“We've checked for hidden passages and secret nooks.” Peter reminded him, “There's nothing there.”
“Well clearly there is and Professor Peverell's found it!” James exclaimed. “This is bloody ridiculous.”
“I agree.” Sirius stretched his arms above his head, yawning dramatically. “Well, I could go for a fat nap right about now. Care to join?”
“Are you mad?” James scowled. “No. I'm going to keep looking.”
“Suit yourself.” Sirius shrugged. Peter glanced at him with curious eyes, almost knowing, and nodded to Sirius firmly.
“Remus and I'll stay with James.” Peter declared then. “Let ol’ Pads get in his old man nap while he can.”
“Can't win ‘em all.” Sirius grinned. Peter winked, then turned back to James and Remus to throw in yet another ridiculous theory that only led them in circles. Sirius took that as a sign to skiddaddle while he could.
While his friends were focusing on the route of addressing their Professor's identity and honesty, Sirius had spent a long time pondering how to address his own issue. He still had no answers as to how in the world the Professor broke into Grimmauld Place, evaded Sirius’ trap, then showed up to teach his class without ever addressing their previous encounter. It was curious to Sirius, and significantly frustrating at times.
So Sirius decided to try something else.
It was easy navigating to the Defence classroom, even easier to push the door open and search the back for the door to the Defence Professor's Private Office. It took some effort, but Sirius used his magical penknife to jimmy the lock. It was a little instrument he was given as a child by his Aunt Bellatrix, designed to open any lock. Walburga tried to take it from him after he got himself into trouble on numerous occasions, but she never succeeded.
Stepping into Peverell's Office and pocketing the knife, Sirius looked around in surprise. It wasn't at all what he was expecting. The entire room was filled to the brim with scrawled papers and stacks of parchment inked to capacity. The surfaces, tables and chairs and even patches of the floor, were completely covered. Dozens of books, essays, research diagrams Sirius couldn't decipher; it was curious and shocking compared to the tidy openness of Peverell's classroom.
“Well well.” Sirius froze, turning around very slowly. “If it isn't Sirius Black.”
“And here I was thinking you'd forgotten me.” Sirius tried for an air of nonchalance, of confidence, but his surprise and slight anxiety shone through his tone.
“You're a hard one to forget.” Peverell drawled, grinning. “I suppose you're looking through my things in hopes of discovering all my secrets?”
“Something like that.” Sirius swallowed thickly. “Really, I just had a few questions I couldn't exactly ask in front of the whole class.”
“Fair enough, but I think breaking into my office was less than necessary.” Peverell looked at him with the authority of a teacher, which Sirius glared at. “You know, I should assign you detention for this. Any sane Professor would.”
“But you won't.” Sirius said, grinding his teeth.
“I think I will.” Peverell smirked. “Tomorrow night, directly after dinner, my classroom. We'll be doing flash cards and a pop quiz on Wizarding laws and regulations.”
“What?”
“And while you're here… I suppose I could indulge in a few burning questions.” Peverell looked at him pointedly. “But, detention is detention and it will still go on your permanent detention record as breaking and entering a staff room. You are in trouble for this, even if you're sort of getting what you wanted out of it.”
“Fine.” Sirius didn't know whether he was moderately glad or pissed, but he cut his losses and sighed. “I'll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Until tomorrow.” Peverell smiled, the pretty smile that over half the school adored. Sirius merely nodded and stalked out.
“Stupid pretty boy Professor…”
—~—~—~—~—
“What two creatures are forbidden from being owned, carried, rented, stowed, or kept in close quarters with one another, under the penalty of Azkaban prison for suspected or proven illegal activity?”
Professor Peverell was completely serious about how real their detention was, down to the pop quiz that Sirius found easy yet terribly tedious.
“A chicken and a toad.” Sirius answered, impatient and terse. “They can in tandem be used to create Basilisks, which is classified as illegal breeding. It's been banned since at least 1874, when a witch in Feldcroft bred sixteen Basilisks and claimed it was accidental when authorities discovered the Basilisk infestation shortly after.”
“Very good.” Peverell praised with a smirk. “Though, you seem less than enthused. Aren't you proud you're doing so well?”
“Not particularly.” Sirius ground out. “When can we just move on? I've got questions and I'm not afraid to act again until I get my answers.” Peverell shook his head with an amused huff.
“Very well, you can ask.” Peverell said then. “For every quiz answer you gave, you may ask one question in return. Thus far you've answered nine questions, which means you may now ask nine questions.”
“How did you get into Grimmauld Place?” Sirius jumped right to his most important question. Peverell seemed to be expecting this.
“I was experimenting.” Peverell told him simply. “I created a spell that could translocate a person from one place to another. Unfortunately, I miscalculated. I… well, I suppose you could say I missed.”
“Where were you aiming?”
“Well, that's complicated.” Peverell hummed. “I was looking for someone, and instead of ending up where I wanted to be… I ended up with you.”
“Who were you looking for?” Sirius blinked. “And why did you think they'd be at Grimmauld Place?”
“I was looking for my godfather, and I didn't necessarily think he was at your house, but rather I was looking around more generally.” Peverell sighed. “Again, I was clearly way off in my calculations. I miss by several… degrees.”
“Degrees?” Sirius frowned. “What d'you mean degrees? Like on a map?”
“Sure, let's go with that.” Peverell shook his head. “Anyway, Dumbledore has forbidden me from using the spell again, citing I could cause much worse accidents than a simple breaking and entering.”
“Did you ever find your godfather?” Sirius couldn't help but ask. “Did you find him after you left Grimmauld Place?”
“No, I didn't.” Peverell's voice fell, a quiet sort of grief present. “But I suppose that's just how it is. I messed up, missed my chance, and now I'm here. Not much else to do but take it in stride and do what I can to help everyone else I can; even if I can't help my godfather.”
“What happened to him?” Peverell held up a hand, a grin creeping onto his face.
“Ah, you're out of questions.” Peverell said brightly.
“What?” Sirius blinked. “No, some of those weren't separate questions! They were just pauses, additions to the last question!”
“It counts.” Peverell stood then, gesturing for Sirius to stand as well. “Now, I'm rather exhausted. Let's retire for the night.”
“Wait!” Sirius exclaimed. “You can't just–”
“Goodnight, Mister Black.” Peverell said. He reached the door to his office, then turned to smile at Sirius. “See yourself out, would you? I'm tired.” He slipped inside and shut the door, leaving Sirius standing in the middle of the classroom with a racing mind.
“What just happened…” Sirius murmured.
It seemed there was a lot more to Professor Peverell than just his name.