August 23rd
Harry walks through the Floo, coming back from Hermione and Ron's place. It was always a pleasant visit seeing the kids and spending time with his two best friends, but coming back to Grimaud Place is disconcerting after a visit to their cosey home. Harry walks down to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Absent-mindedly making tea to calm his nerves.
“Harry, this is a great opportunity! You haven’t put yourself back into the world since we passed our NEWTs!” Harry shrugged at Hermione, going to protest that he had in fact ventured into the world since he was in their house.
Ron butts in, “Yeah mate, most positions at Hogwarts don’t open like this. And with the curse lifted after His death, its completely safe.”
“Exactly. Listen Harry, this is exactly what you were hoping for,” Hermione gets up and walks over to Harry, “A way to help wizarding Britain protect itself and change minds about what is and isn’t dark magic without being an Auror.”
He puts the bag into his mug and walks up to his room, passing the decrepit halls of the house. He was never able to fix the place up, fearing he would be doing his Godfather a dishonor despite his known hate of the house. Harry’s room, formerly Sirius’s room, was the only room he dared to change. He left the posters and Gryffindor paraphernalia hanging, left the clothes he had left before fleeing to his father’s house hanging in the closet next to his own. He really didn’t touch anything aside from replacing the bed and adding a carpet. He merely folded himself into the room, filling the spaces that he could with his own stuff that he had acquired over the years. If one looked hard enough, they would see a layer of dust over Sirius’s things seemingly frozen in time, like Harry was afraid that just moving anything, it would all crumble away and he would lose the few things he had left of his Godfather.
He sets his cup down on the desk and sits in the creaky chair that would likely give out if he sat down too hard. Grabbing some parchment and a quill, he writes back to McGonagall.
Headmistress McGonagall,
I received your letter about the open DADA position. I am hesitant to accept, however, with some convincing I am willing to a trial run as
suggested. I will arrive in a few days’ time to prepare for the start of the term.
H.P.
He attached the short letter to Althea and sent her off. He sipped his tea, wondering if this was the best choice. After the war was over, he along with many of the other 7th year went back after Hogwarts was rebuilt and opted to finish their education as 8th years. Most thought he would become an Auror and continue to find Voldemort’s followers who went into hiding, but after spending so many years around death and fighting for his life, Harry had grown tired. Yes, he had wanted to become an Auror when he was young and bright and unmarred by the horrors of war.
Harry had known that he was a tool for the war, primed and ready to go down swinging when he learned of the horcrux’s and how his scar carried one. He had been groomed for it, at first, he was angry. Angry at himself, Dumbledore, even Ron and Hermoine, but he quickly accepted it. If he was to die, he would die for his family and end Voldemort for good this time. Now? He tries not to think about those times. He had made peace with the fact that people could be more than just good and evil, that they could be good and manipulative, or bad and helpful. It took a few years with a mind healer to get Harry out of a constant state of fight or flight. Thinking that he had to protect his friends from their deaths that happened in his nightmares.
It didn’t help that right when the trace broke on his 17th that he came into his own family magics at the same time. With Dumbledore dead and with his inability to ever tell Harry fully about anything, he hadn’t been prepared for the shock of coming of age. With both the Peverell and Potter magics coursing through him, one of which he did not know he had claim to. It was short of a miracle that he didn’t burn down the Dursley house. Remus was able to help him understand what had happened, but a full explanation was never given to him until much later at Gringotts.
Harry walked through the front door of the bank, no longer in awe of seeing the workings of the goblins who ran it.
He walked up to the nearest goblin, “I would like to make a withdraw, please.”
The goblin looked up from his parchment and asked for Harrys want to do a magics scan. Once confirming it was Harry he asked, “From which vault Mr. Potter?”
Harry was puzzled for a moment unsure of how to proceed, lest he somehow break some goblin code. “Which vaults… do you mean?”
The goblin, listed the available vaults:
Peverell Vaults
Potter Vaults
Sirius Black’s Vault
Harry had stared down at the paper in slight astonishment. “I know the Potter Vaults are mine, but what about these other vaults?” He looked back down at the paper as the goblin spoke.
“Mr. Blacks vaults were willed to you in the case of his death, while the Peverell vaults are much like the Potter vaults, you are one of the sole heirs set to inherit the fortune and Wizengamot seats. You should have felt the family magics when you turned of age Mr. Potter.”
Shortly after that encounter Harry learned that his life would get much harder. Dumbledore, or rather none of his parental figures had told him anything about pureblood culture. While he understood Remus was not as versed in pureblood practices and Sirius was always on the run, he again felt the rush of anger towards Dumbledore for keeping another thing from him. It wasn’t like there were many books on pureblood rites, namely because their practices were taught within the family and because with the influx of muggleborns they kept everything close to the breast, and he wasn’t sure if he trusted the information in those books anyhow.
He went to the only person he thought would be of help.
“Mr. Potter, I was surprised to receive your letter. Especially after everything that has happened due to my family,” Narcissa Malfoy said as she welcomed him into the Manor. It looked different from what he had once remembered while it was under Voldemort's occupation. It felt cozy, as cozy as a large mansion could be, but it was no longer under a fog of unhappiness and dark magic. “We have done a bit of redecorating, Draco and I. Ever since Lucius was sent to Azkaban, we decided to get rid of anything that the Dark Lord had touched.”:
Harry nodded, “How is... Mal-Draco doing? I haven’t heard of him since I testified at both of your trials.”
She led him to a sunroom that he hadn’t seen in his previous exploit in the house. “He is well, thank you for inquiring.” She sat down in a way he could only describe as regal. While he never had focused on Narcissa Malfoy, more consumed with her husband and son as they each made their own marks on his life, he found he had no qualms about her. It was interesting seeing this woman who had defiantly lied to Voldemort and saved his life, sit peacefully in the home that he invaded. While he respected the woman in front of him, he was not so stupid to not be on guard around the woman who had taken the dark mark, whether willingly or not. “So, I gathered from your letter, you are ill-informed about purebloods. Which is not surprising in the least with Dumbledore's stance on our practices. However, I would have suspected that my cousin would have at least taught you something, although with the life you have led, I suppose there was little time to get into things of that nature when you had far more pressing issues to handle.”
Harry nodded and took a biscuit from the tray set out in front of him. “Yes, well there were many things that Professor Dumbledore did not tell me about. I wasn’t aware that I had reason to bother myself with learning about purebloods, since well no offense Mrs. Malfoy, but from what I know most sided with Voldemort, so I thought it was all rubbish. I know the Weaslys are also considered purebloods, but they don’t act like, well everyone else.”
"Yes, they have shed most of our practices since Dumbledore had begun to deem most of our ways as darker in nature than he liked. Forgive me for speaking ill of the dead, but the man was far to black and white about the world than it actually is. I acknowledge that there are practices that are considered dark like blood magic and the unforgivable but things like jinx and hexes also stem from the same branch of magic. Two extremes with many spells and practices in-between that create more of a grey area than one would think.” It wasn’t what he had expected to hear about, thinking that she would drive right into talking about what it meant to be an heir and how to deal with attending the Wizengamot. “Our world is not as black and white as you have been taught Mr. Potter. We exist almost the same as everyone else. Although, I presume you are here to better understand your status as an heir rather than learn about our holidays and etiquette.”
Harry mutely nodded, interested to know more about what it meant to be a part of this other side of society that he had not been privy to. “I would like to hear about those things to, but I think for right now dealing with the Wizengamot will be enough of a headache to deal with.”
“Yes, I believe it would. I can give you a book about what we do here in Britain, however, I know the Potters are from India and I am afraid I am not well versed in their holidays and traditions. I would pen the Patels. If I am not wrong, they hail from the same area as the Potters.” Harry made a mental note to write to Paravati when he had the chance and visit the Potter Vault again. “As for your seat on the Wizengamot, it is fairly simple. You must enter the chamber and state your name, “I Harry Potter am here to claim my family's seat,’ from there the magic within the chamber will flow through you and verify your family magics as being the heir to the seat. From there if it accepts, you will be directed towards your seat and the session will begin. The sessions can be long but the only take place once a month on the first Friday of the month.”
They sat in silence for a moment before asking, “Do you hold any seats?”
Mrs. Malfoy sipped her tea before answering him,” Yes, I am acting as proxy for both the Black and the Malfoy seat until I believe Draco is ready to hold the responsibility of them until Lucius is released from Azkaban,” She looked out the window into the garden. “I want him to focus on finishing school before taking over responsibility as the Malfoy heir.” Harry followed her gaze and looked out upon the stunning garden. They had sat that way for a time until Harry had decided it was time to leave.
Mrs. Malfoy gave him a schoolbook that looked like it had been worn down from overuse as he was about to set through the floo, “This will cover most things about etiquette, holidays, and other various information about pureblood culture here in Britian. It’s a little worn as it was Draco’s when he begun heir lessons, so I hope you do not mind. Do not hesitate to write to me if you have any more questions Mr. Potter, it was lovely to meet you.” Harry thanked her and flooed home.
It became a regular occurrence for Harry to write to Narcissa and eventually he began to have regular visits for tea once he claimed his seat on the Wizengamot. They often chatted just about everything, eventually becoming something of a makeshift family for each other, reminiscing over Sirius and other Black family members. She had even told him of a few memories of his parents while they attended school together, even though they were not close. But he was happy to see that the marauders and his mother's antics were known throughout the school.
While it had been 8 years since they had formed this relationship, he had yet to see Draco within the Manor, only ever seeing him a few times back when he attended the Wizengamot sessions before giving proxy over to Hermione. He found it odd, but Narcissa hadn’t mentioned that he had moved out, only that he was taking up an apprenticeship in some school for Healers when they turned 23 and Lucius had been released from Azkaban. It wasn’t spoken but from hearing Hermoine complain about Lucius reclaiming his seats in the Wizengamont, he assumed that Draco had given up his seats back to his father.
It was tense the first time that he had gone for a visit and Lucius had been there at the same time, but Narcissa was ever the good host and whisked Harry away to their spot. He never spoke to Lucius, and it seemed that he made a point to never be in the same area of the Manor when Harry was there. Like father like son, it seemed.
Harry drank the rest of his tea and wrote to Narcissa, telling her that he had been given the DADA position and they would have to reschedule his visit for the weekends instead of their usual Wednesday afternoons. Once Althea came back, he sent her off again towards Malfoy Manor, turning towards the rest of his room to begin packing. He called Kreatcher, asking him to help pack away his things for the term while he set out to think of the materials he would need to begin teaching.
He tried to think back to how the other professors had tried (and failed) to teach the course. His only hope was that Carrow would leave behind some sort of course plan with such short notice on vacating the position. He wrote up a small list of things that he remembered had been taught throughout the years he was there. It was a little lacking in terms of what he could teach and which year he should be teaching certain subjects too. Teaching in an official capacity is a far cry from teaching children to be ready to defend themselves in the DA. He would have to ask McGonagall about it, grateful that he decided to leave soon rather than arrive a day or two before the term started.