Chapter 1
Harry blinked at the thick, crisp parchment in his hand, feeling an uncomfortable swirl of emotions. The letter was in familiar green ink with an equally familiar neat signature and stamped crest at the bottom. He reread the first line.
“Dear Mr. Potter,
In light of an interrupted education last school year, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry invites you to resume your studies and complete your NEWT examinations as an 8th year student.”
His heart squeezed. The idea of going home to Hogwarts was appealing on first instinct. The chance to really learn without external worries for perhaps the first time in his life. Once again eating in the Great Hall and flying on the Quidditch pitch and roaming the grounds, as he had in the warm and comfortable memories he had of the castle. What his life as a wizard could have been, one normal year.
But dread and regret nearly drowned those memories out now. If he returned, every day would be facing countless people (children!) who suffered surviving the war, and the gaps of familiar faces who did not. His irrational conscience told him it was all his fault, the scale of suffering and the deaths of good people. He couldn’t even face the idea of it from as far away as Grimmauld Place. All those places he cherished at Hogwarts were now scenes in his nightmares. To try to sleep in a dormitory, surrounded by people, who he would probably attack in his sleep if they got up for the bathroom in the middle of the night. Anyway, it wasn’t even worth consideration – Teddy was with him now, and Teddy came first. Harry would cut his own arm off before he’d go off to Hogwarts without him.
Andromedra had offered to keep Teddy, after the final battle. When Harry had shown up at her door, covered in dirt and blood and dried tear tracks, holding out his arms for his godson. But Harry stood firm. “I’m his godfather,” he said, echoing the words of Sirus so many years before, “I’m his godfather and he belongs with me.”
Teddy hardly left his arms after that. The many funerals, trials, and reconstruction events Harry dragged himself to that summer, Teddy Lupin was in his arms. Harry wasn’t aware of the gravity this lent to his words when he inevitably was asked to speak before each crowd, talking about the fallen and the survivors and the evil and the coerced, with the orphan of war heroes in his arms. He simply needed to hold on to Teddy to make it through.
Harry was determined to make a better life for Teddy. To give him every ounce of love and support possible, the freedom to do and be what he wanted with his life when he was older. Harry’s life, with its purpose determined at 1 year old and accomplished at 17, may have been all but over, but he could dedicate the rest to making history do whatever the exact opposite of repeating itself may be.
The next morning, Teddy (looking like a miniature Harry, as he usually did in the mornings) and his stuffed Uruguayan Underhunt were tucked under Harry’s arm as he threw down floo powder with his other hand, shouting “Headmistress McGonagall’s office, Hogwarts!”
Minerva looked up from the papers on her desk without a hint of surprise on her face. She was very good at that. Harry had no idea if she’d been expecting him (was he that predictable?) or if her reaction, or lack thereof, would have been the same if it had been the Queen of England who stepped out of the fireplace. Her tone suggested the former as she calmly greeted them. “Mr. Potter. Mr. Lupin. Have a seat.”
Teddy, who had a charming bit of soot on his nose, smiled at her and was suddenly sporting salt and pepper grey hair. She smiled back at him as Harry sat down. Teddy was irresistible.
Harry liked the Headmistress’s office, more than he ever had in years before. It seemed to him more like McGonagall’s office in a new shape than Dumbledore’s office with someone else in it. Everything in it was somehow stern and comfortable at the same time. Pulling his gaze from the windows, where in the distance the giant squid could be seen splashing in the shallows of the lake, he decided there was nothing for it but to start right in. “Professor –”
McGonagall held up her hand. “Minerva, Harry.”
“Minerva,” Harry started again, “I’ve come about the Hogwarts letter. I… I can’t accept.”
McGonagall didn’t look the least bit surprised. “Yes, I know,” she replied. “Tea?”
Harry stared at her. “Er… you know?”
McGonagall was already pouring two cups of tea, adding milk to Harry’s and leaving her own black. “Of course. It would be impossible for you to do so. I merely sent the letter so you would come to tea.” She sipped her own.
“That’s… very Dumbledore of you,” Harry responded, nonplussed. He didn’t expect these sorts of tricks from McGonagall and wasn’t sure whether to be wary or impressed. “But I suppose it worked, didn’t it?”
“It certainly did. You really should come for tea more often, Harry.” She added sharply, eyeing him. Harry felt slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. He knew what she saw – dark circles, hair messier than ever, a body a little too lean to look healthy.
Still, Harry was a bit exasperated at this. “Surely once a week is often enough,” he argued. If it hadn’t been August already, he would have just waited until Tuesday to discuss this whole 8th year business with her, but it seemed a bit urgent with September 1st only a few weeks away – and really, he didn’t have anything better to do than impromptu visits to the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Teddy, in his lap, made a grab for his godfather’s glasses and Harry dodged expertly before nicking a quill from McGonagalls desk for him to play with.
“Hmph,” McGonagall replied. “Biscuit?”
Harry took one. “So, you’re really adding an 8th year?”
“Indeed. Even those who remained in the castle this past year hardly received, or retained, a full education.” She looked rather pained. It was obvious that she blamed herself for being unable to better protect the students from the terror of the Carrows. Harry sat Teddy up on her desk – he couldn’t sit upright on his own just yet, so Harry used one hand around his torso to keep him there – to distract her from the thought. She gave him an “I know what you’re doing” look but reached over to let Teddy grasp one of her fingers anyway. “The board and ministry agree it’s the best solution. We’re requiring it for most students.”
“But you already knew I wouldn’t come back,” Harry said a bit sadly. He did love Hogwarts.
“On the contrary, you will be returning.”
Harry frowned. “Minerva, surely you know I can’t come back here and go to school as if nothing has happened, and Teddy—"
“You won’t be a student. You’re the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”