Chapter 2
Harry gaped at her, speechless. The portraits on the walls, which he now realized had all craned their necks and crowded into choice frame positions to witness his reaction, looked universally delighted at this (even Snape, the bastard, was looking a smug sort of amused). McGonagall drank her tea, waiting patiently for Harry to form words rather than just opening and closing his mouth soundlessly. He entertained and then rejected the idea that the Headmistress was playing a practical joke on him, and then re-considered it again – after all, her poker face was impeccable. He abruptly exited his daze of confusion when Teddy pitched over on the desk, snapping Harry’s attention back to the present as he caught the boy and tipped him back to upright. A torrent of refusals, each one tripping over the last, spilled from his mouth.
“I’m 18 years old – you can’t possibly – they would never – I never even learned the 7th year curriculum – didn’t know I was a wizard half my life – same age as the students – not qualified to teach – Teddy – they’d all be looking at me – everyone knows I never even completed my NEWTS – haven’t even set foot in a classroom in a year and a half – hate me – did I mention I’m not qualified to teach??”
Minerva listened to him rant calmly. “Are you quite finished?” she asked, a trifle sharply. Harry nodded, feeling like a chastised child, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Teddy, of course, will come with you to live in the castle. As faculty, you’ll have rooms to yourself. Independent studies can be arranged with the other professors for your own NEWTS. You are the brightest Defense Against the Dark Arts student I’ve ever known. I have seen you cast self-taught spells that many professors in this very school are incapable of. In my years of teaching, I have never seen a class learn so much so quickly as the group of students whom you taught, unprompted, in your 5th year. You are the most qualified candidate for this post and, equally importantly, likely the only one who will accept it.”
Harry opened his mouth to argue any and all of these points but drew short at the last one. “Why on earth wouldn’t someone else take it?”
The headmistress let out a long-suffering sigh. “Everyone believes it to be cursed, Mr. Potter.”
Harry blinked. She had a point at that.
***
Three weeks later Harry sat, feeling that he was having some sort of out-of-body experience, at the staff table at the head of the Great Hall, watching students pour in from the carriages. Although the mood among them was somber, collective whispers amounting to the sound of a small hurricane broke out as students saw him, pointing him out to each other in clear confusion. Harry ignored them as best he could, mentally re-checking the protection and monitoring spells he had on Teddy’s room to distract himself. Satisfied that Teddy was asleep and happy in their chambers, he returned to surveying the students. He noticed the faces that were missing more than the ones that were present, he realized with a pang. The last time many of these students had been in Hogwarts, their families and peers had been laid out on the floor of this very room. He tried to fight away the memory but couldn’t help but look at those places on the floor.
Catching sight of red hair, Harry gave a small wave to Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. They waved back, smiling, and Ginny split off to join the Gryffindor table while Ron and Hermione sat at a new one – the 8th years. Harry scanned the rest of the 8th year table. Almost everyone alive in his year was back. Children of death eaters, he knew – although acquitted – were required to attend by the ministry. As the thought crossed his mind he caught the eye of a pale blond man. His hair had grown since Harry had last seen him, and he looked healthier – if a bit worn. Drace Malfoy stared at him for a moment, with an expression that would probably mean surprise if Malfoys could be surprised, and then nodded at Harry minutely. Harry nodded back, and Malfoy looked away.
The whispering didn’t die down until the sorting, and then started right up again after. Only when McGonagall stood to give the start of term speech did silence prevail.
Harry barely listened to the speech. He had heard many similar ones in the months since the end of the war and had given just as many himself. Only when he heard his name did he fully tune in. “…new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year. Professor Harry Potter will be taking the post.” The whispers broke in force then, so loud that a troll could’ve knocked down the door and no one would’ve heard it. The mystery of why Harry Potter was sitting at the staff table was far more interesting than half of the students had thought (he was just that cool, basically) and far less interesting than the other half (he was the new minister of magic). Harry, at Minerva’s pause, stood and gave a small wave before sitting back down. Well, he thought, that went alright anyway.
Harry didn’t sleep much that night. He cast one-way silencing charms, so he could hear Teddy in his little crib attached to Harry’s bed but so Teddy wouldn’t wake up when Harry screamed in his sleep. He cast and recast protection wards on his chambers, piling layers so thick it’d take anyone but him ages to pull them apart – ones he’d learned from Hermione that they’d used on the run, ones he’d learned from Aurors and books, a couple that he’d invented. And then he lay in bed going over the next day’s schedule over and over. His first day teaching. Would he be laughed out of the room? Would everyone just stare at the spectacle of Harry Potter in front of a blackboard and ignore what he had to say? Would they ask about the people he’d let die for him?
Someone was screaming when he woke up. He realized half a second later that it was him, as the image of the whole school laid out in rows in the Great Hall blazed in his vision. Bellatrix torturing Hermione, Neville’s mum, Harry’s own mum, Dumbledore yelling that it was all his fault. Teddy down at his feet. Harry panted, dripping sweat, trying to catch his breath. He immediately looked over at Teddy, who was frowning in his sleep. Harry reached through the protective spells between them and gently lifted the little boy, settling him on his shoulder and rocking gently. Tears dripped onto the sheets.
The whispering was still loud at breakfast. Trying to ignore it, Harry strode past the house tables, stopping at the staff table to exchange a few words with McGonagall. She poured a cup of tea with milk as they spoke and handed it to him sternly. He accepted with a small grin and turned back to hall, tea in hand, making his way to the 8th year table.
“Morning, Professor Potter,” Ron greeted when Harry was close enough. Harry shoved him lightly on the shoulder.
“Shut up, Ron. Hi, Hermione.”
Hermione smiled at him from her seat across the table as she buttered her toast. “Morning, Harry! Not eating in the Hall today? You need to eat breakfast you know, I read a book on magical nutrition and –”
Harry rolled his eyes fondly. “Just stopping by before I head to the kitchens, ‘mione.” he cut in before she collected momentum and started lecturing him in earnest. “Gonna grab something for me and Teddy before class.”
“Oh, of course!” Hermione exclaimed. “How is he? Does he like the castle?”
“Settling in, I think. Listen, I’ve got to run, I’ve got a class of second years in 40 minutes.”
“Good luck, mate!” Ron cheered. “You look right professorish in those robes, they suit you.”
“You’ll be great, Harry,” Hermione added.
Harry smiled at both of them gratefully and gave a small salute before heading off to the kitchens.
“Now, Teddy,” Harry said seriously, “I’ll only be gone for an hour. Don’t get into any mischief, please, and mind Elsie.” Teddy chirruped happily and Elsie the house elf reassured Harry of her child-watching qualifications for the seventh time. Harry nodded distractedly. “Just come get me if there’s any problem at all. Thanks for watching him. Love you buddy.” Harry murmured the last part to Teddy, kissing his head gently before handing him to the house elf. He left them, Teddy reaching for Elsie’s long ears and Elsie stumbling over protests at being thanked.
Harry’s first class of the day was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff second years. They filed into his classroom, whispering excitedly to each other, and stood in a bunch near the door. Harry had cleared the room of desks for this first class. “Come in, come in!” He called from the far end of the classroom. “Drop your bags by the wall and come up to the front.”
Harry was standing next to a covered cage. “I’m professor Potter,” he said when they’d shuffled forward (thinking privately that it was likely a bit silly to keep introducing himself to kids who obviously knew who he was but that he’d come off as a prick if he didn’t), “and I thought we’d dive right in this year. Any guesses as to what’s in the cage?”
A few students raised their hands timidly. Harry nodded to the girl closest to him encouragingly. “Amanda Bristle, sir. Is it pixies?” Harry shook his head, wincing internally as he remembered his own first DADA lesson of second year.
“A good guess, but no, Miss Bristle.” A few more students took guesses before Harry took pity on them and pulled the cover off. The cage looked empty.
“Did… did it get out?” A boy in the back asked, a little nervously. Harry grinned.
“Nope! Anyone know what creature might be in the cage?” The class shook their heads. Harry turned to the cage, pulled out his wand, and said: “ipsum revelare.” A strange creature, looking like a hairy snake, slowly came into view, shifting from transparent to opaque. Gasps filled the room, much to Harry’s satisfaction. Lockhart may have gone a bit overboard, but it was fun to put on a bit of a show. “This,” Harry said, businesslike, is a Quixum. Pretty easy to deal with, if you can figure out where they are, but nasty with the bite. Let’s practice the spell to see them, wands up!”
Harry leaned against the front of his desk as the last class of the day filed in, feeling even more nervous than from for his first. The 8th year students filed in quietly, shooting him glances – some looking wary, some with unreadable faces. The Gryffindors shot him smiles but didn’t say anything. The group sat down with minimal chatter and shuffling, an expectant air hanging over the room, It seemed everyone was waiting for him to make the first move, to set the tone for how this strange arrangement would work. This, at least, he had thought about, was ready to do. But whether they would go along with it he had no idea.
Realizing he’d been silent a beat too long, he belatedly cleared his throat. Every eye was on him. “Hello,” he said. Might as well start simple. “It’s really good to see you again.” It really was good to see them again, and he hoped they heard the sincerity in his voice. Still, he half expected snorts or eye rolls from some of them among whom he was historically less popular – but there was hardly a reaction at all, only a few nods. Everyone recognized that they were lucky to be alive. That there were some missing.
“I know this is weird,” he continued, “it’s weird for all of us. So I just want to say, first and foremost, that I’m not here to Professor at you. We’re peers. Normally I’d be sitting with you in those desks.”
“So I’m not going to treat you like we’re different now. I’m here to help you learn. And that’s what I’m going to do.” Harry paused for a moment. They all seemed open to what he was saying. “In this room, we don’t have to pretend that I’m ‘Professor Potter.’ You guys just call me Harry, or Potter,” he glanced at the Slytherin students, who’d never called him Harry in their lives, “whichever is more comfortable. I know not all of you were in the DA in fifth year, but I expect our relationship to be much the same as it was then. We’re all learning. I’m here to help you – every single one of you.” Harry did notice some people shooting glances at each other at that. He felt like he needed to be explicit, more so than with the underclasses. He pushed away from his desk, standing tall in the front of the room. “We’re all children of war,” he said firmly. His peers straightened in their seats. A pin dropping would have made a commotion. “Every student in this school. We all fought to survive. We did what we had to do, all of us.” Harry looked down at the scuffed floorboards for a moment, before making firm eye contact with every person in the room, one by one. Neville nodded to him, looking resolute. Zacharias Smith looked at him warily, but didn’t break eye contact. Hermione smiled sadly. “I want to be absolutely clear in saying that I consider every single person in this room and in this school as equals. We’re all getting a second chance. It will be a fair one. In my professional and personal opinion, your slates are wiped clean.” He looked into the eyes of the last person in the room, Draco Malfoy, as he said this last sentence. He held eye contact until Malfoy gave a miniscule nod, acknowledging Harry’s words. Harry felt a small wave of relief wash through him, although he wasn’t sure why.
Harry started pacing along the front of the room. “That said, we cannot forget this war. And we don’t have a choice. The war may be over, but every one of you is still in danger. My job is to teach you to protect yourselves, and each other. Old grudges die hard. I will not rest until you feel confident and safe in your ability to do so.” Almost without meaning to say it, Harry added more quietly: “I know what it feels like to live in fear. We shouldn’t have to anymore.”
Most of the people in the room didn’t know that Harry didn’t know what it felt like to not live in fear. He’d always done so, for the past 17 years of his 18-year-old life.
Harry cleared his throat and spoke more briskly. “In any case. My office door is open at any time, to anyone, for any reason. Pop by if you need someone to talk to, or if you have any questions about Defense, or if you want to just drink tea in silence. You’ll never be turned away.” He told this to all his classes.
Harry leaned back against his desk again, studying his friends and peers. They’d all listened attentively so far, but he was honestly still totally in the dark about how they felt about him teaching. “Any questions? Suggestions? Invitations to duel?”
Ernie Macmillian was the first to speak up. “I think the arrangement sounds great, Harry. At least we’ll finally get a decent education this year.” They was a chorus of agreement and slightly bitter laughter at the horrible teaching styles of most of their previous DADA professors, and Harry smiled in relief.
“Really, Harry, we all know you’re qualified to teach us, and you’re good at it.” Hermione chimed in. Harry nodded at her gratefully.
“Thanks, guys. Oh – I nearly forgot – one favor? If you guys could refer to me as professor Potter outside of class, especially when you’re talking to lower classmen, I’d really appreciate it. The dynamic is a little different for us, but I have to be a professional for the other students.” The class nodded in agreement. Harry was amazed at how well this was going.
“Right then! Let’s talk about what we’ll be doing this year. I’ve looked over the 7th year curriculum, which of course we’ll cover, but I’ve spotted some holes – there’s some things I think will be useful, that the books don’t cover….”