It was an end to the war the morning that followed All Hallows Eve. It was a joyous occasion, and most sorrowful as the dead were counted and memorials commitioned.
A particularly large bit of stone work was planned to be the centerpiece of the restructured Ministry of Magic. It would bear the names of the soldiers that fought and died in the war against supremecy, as well as the brave civilians that died fighting in smaller, simpler ways.
Albus Dumbledore flooed into the Ministry of Magic, walking past the cordonned-off section of the room where architects and artists were at work planning their project. A statue to commemorate the wizards that lost their lives in the war against systemic racism and cruelty. This war really opened the older wizard’s eyes to the true underbelly of the wizarding world, and how broken the system was. It was going to take a lot of legwork to put it back on the right track. He briskly made his way to the elevators and thumbed the button for the right floor.
When the headmaster got off the elevator he was waylaid by a senator congradulating and babbling about brighter days ahead—shaking the old headmaster’s hand with both his own as if the senator’s chosen team won the Quiddich World Cup—before Albus found himself once again moving on to his current destination. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Bartemius Crouch Sr. was waiting for him. With a pointed look, Bartemius waved the headmaster into his private office.
“Now what is this about, Albus?” Bartemius was looking very weary, the circles under his eyes the size of galleons from all the deatheater cases coming across his desk. “You know how busy I am, wrangling as many of You-Know-Who’s followers before they all scatter to the wind.”
“My visit is not entirely disproportionate to your current work, Barty.” Albus hummed, his gruff voice also giving away a number of sleepless nights on his own end. “I’m here regarding the case against Sirius Black.”
“Ah, yes.” Barty said, moving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It was a short case, as are all those held during war times. No viritasserum was on hand at the time, but we had plenty of eye witnesses. Why are you asking?”
“Not everything is often as it seems.” Albus began, having gone over it again and again in his head. His pensieve had seen some use that night. “I rather thought that Sirius would have been the most obvious choice for the secret keeper. That choice in itself would be risky, as the identity of the secret keeper would be more likely to be guessed by the public, let alone Voldemort.” Albus ignored the flinch from the head of law enforcement at the name. The headmaster didn’t blame him, the name had been cursed with a taboo over the last couple years to inform Deatheaters of the speaker’s location once the name was invoked. “I know Lily would have gone against everyone’s expectations if it meant her son’s safety. James’ too.”
Barty contemplated, his face downturned but not unmendable. Eventually he sighed deeply in discontented agreement. “We’ll be reviewing most of our cases anyways now that the war is over. Potential Deatheaters claiming they were imperiused, or swear to Merlin they aren’t Deatheaters and were only at the wrong place and wrong time. Might as well start with the most controversal case. ‘Will make the rest of them a cake walk.”
—-
Sirius Black took his first deep breath of fresh air as a free man two months after his best friend’s death, just outside the Ministry courtroom.
He let it go, the breath shaking along with his body still recovering from close proximity to dementors.
“Peter is still out there.” The vengence was still burning in his soul. It lingered these past two months after the rush of chasing that rat bastard down, a dark cancerous need to see Peter Petegrew dead for betraying his friends. He still couldn’t believe that Peter killed dozens of muggles in that explosion, just to frame him. The icy chill in Sirius’ chest from the dementors was slowly subsiding, but it would take months if not years until he felt warm again.
“That he is. But you know who else is?” Dumbledore hummed lightly. His eyes twinkled as he looked over to Sirius and the younger man couldn’t help feeling like a student caught out in the halls at night. “Harry.”
“The pup? He’s alive?” Sirius could hardly believe it.
“Yes. I left him with his last remaining family.” Dumbledore assured. “However, McGonagle did bring up some grievances about the muggle family’s character during her watch. I was about to check on the boy, make sure he’s doing alright. Care to join me?”
“Absolutely.” Thoughts of vengence were cast aside as a higher priority took hold. The well being of the last remaining Potter; the child of his two closest friends. Just knowing he was alive was a balm to his soul. Sirius reached out to the arm offered by Dumbledore, side apparating along with the older wizard to whatever muggle neighborhood was home to one Harry James Potter.
—
Remus did not expect to answer his appartment door to find his school headmaster, his recently pardoned best friend, and a baby craddled in said man’s arms. A scar was apparent on the boy’s forehead, and the poor thing was screaming its little lungs out. Remus reeled back at the noise, his oversensitive ears picking up the frequency at decibles that had his neck fur standing up at attention.
“What in the world-“ Remus stepped forward looking at Sirius’ face and saw the black rings under his eyes from undoubtable lack of sleep. Dumbledore looked weary, his shoulders slumped and eyes dimmed from the usual sparkle to something very serious. A sniff told him what he needed to know. The werewolf took a moment to assess the situation and decided questions could wait. “Nevermind, come in…I’ll make some tea.”
Remus welcomed the two inside, taking little Harry from Sirius at the door despite his friends objections. He shooed his friend away to his meager living quarters. “I’ve got ‘im. Go lie down, Pads.”
After shutting and locking the front door, Remus hummed to Harry and held him securely so the baby’s arms rested delicately over his shoulder, his neck supported with his other hand. Harry stopped crying at once.
“There now, that’s better isn’t it?” Remus was incensed at the smell of an ear infection, and not in its earlier stages. This one had time to fester, so much so that poor Harry couldn’t stand laying down or even being craddled. A quick floo call to Poppy should help with that.
It wouldn’t fix the malnourishment he felt in the boys weight being lighter than it should be, but that would be seen to with time and proper care and feeding.
Remus grabbed chocolate on the way from his kitchen and stuffed it in a pocket. Half hazardly he pinched an amount of floo powder from the ugly cheap jar and made soothing noises to little Harry the whole time.
Remus made the call from his fireplace, rubbing the boy’s back comfortingly. Poppy was over in a jiffy, joining Dumbledore and Sirius in the small living room and giving Harry the diagnosis spells. As the school nurse healed up what she could, Remus conjured tea for the others and himself.
Before Sirius could even say a word, Remus stuffed the bar of chocolate in his friend’s open gob. Only after that—and a firm look from Remus that told Sirius that if he didn’t eat all the chocolate there would be trouble—he sat down in his armchair. His old headmaster’s eyes were starting to regain a bit of sparkle to them, though Remus didn’t know what from. Maybe he liked the tea.
“Okay. Now that we’re all settled, tell me what this unexpected visit is all about.”
Sirius was up in arms about the Dursleys, and told Remus everything from the way they left the baby alone in the house while they went away on a family dinner with their toddler Duddley, to the way they shut his crib away in a closet after an instance of accidental magic.
“Accidental magic already? That only happens at such an early age if-“
“If the child feels unsafe.” Dumbledore verified. He was back to looking tired and took a long dreg of his tea before continuing, “A family’s blood protection is not worth that, ever. There are other means to keep Harry safe. Not as powerful or as complete, but better than leaving a child alone where they are so worried for their safety they develop accidental magic at only sixteen months.”
“Merlin have mercy. Those cruel muggles would have this boy’s health and magic stunted.” Poppy’s eyes were moist, and she took a swipe at them with her sleeve, sniffing once. She pulled herself together out of spite and grit, her chin up in defiance. “Well. Whatever you decide, I demand to be kept appraised of the boy’s health. I’ve worked at Saint Mungos, and I’ve heard whispers of what happens to children in the world that suppress their magic. He seems to be recovering quite well, but I’ll keep an eye on him all the same.”
Everyone in the room agreed. The boy’s health was first priority.
“Next step, I believe, is to find a new home for Harry.” Dumbledore broached the new subject tactfully.
“Must we?” Sirius asked. “Look at ‘im. He loves Remus.”
Remus looked down to find the little tott asleep and drooling on his clavacle. The boy had been very quiet in his arms the whole time and now he knew why. The werewolf huffed, a warm smile peeking out from somewhere on his face. Vaguely he took in the pain from his face stretching in a way it wasn’t used to anymore. Had it been so long since he last smiled?
Yes, yes it had.
“I’ll do it.” Remus surprised himself at the absolute resolve behind his claim. “I’d be more than happy to have Harry.”
“Same here.” Sirius agreed at once without pause. He tossed the now-empty chocolate wrapper to the coffee table and stood theatrically. “I’m the boy’s godfather after all.”
“Logistics will have to be ironed out of course. We’ll need diapers, food, clothes-“
“The Grimmauld Place will need a makeover. Because the pup will need a big house to run in- uh, no offense Moony.”
“None taken. Oh, do you think you could take him once a month for three days during-“
“Of course I can, doesn’t even bother mentioning-“
Dumbledore took in the bright young faces of the last two mauraders, the lively chatter allieving the worst of his worries and regrets. The two of them were the best hope for young Harry. Between them, they would keep the boy safe.
—-
Severus was in shock. Lily was dead, and the Dark Lord had killed her. His master, whom had promised to leave him the muggleborn witch to do whatever with…
Severus should have known…this was his fault after all. The Deatheaters spoke a good game and promised the world, only to take your heart in their hand and crush it worse than a torture curse ever could.
Lily was gone.
Severus stubbled up the hill, where his tear streaked eyes met with those of his old head master’s. The Slytheryn couldn’t take back what he had done. His crimes would mark his right arm forever. But maybe…
Maybe…if it was not too late…
…he could be better.
Maybe then the Lily Potter in his dreams would look at him as she did before when they were kids…instead of with dead eyes and face smudged with dirt from rubble, skin cold to the touch.
—-
Albus was surprised to find a confidant in Severus Snape. Time and time again the man proved himself in his actions. He passed trails and tests of loyalty that Albus put forth, and offered up solutions to Albus’ political quandaries without prompting. The ex-Deatheater was eager and near-desperate to please the headmaster.
“You do know that you won’t be penalized if you take a day off.” Albus tossed the statement out there to see what Severus would do with it. The old man had a theory he wanted to test.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather be here…of use.” The raven haired man was slow in his response, fiddling with the books and papers in front of them as they planned out how to go about fixing the faults in the ministry. “The Daily Prophet…Malfoy has his influence in that…news outlet for his own gains but now his grip. His grip is weak.”
“Severus.”
The man looked up at his name. The first time he’d heard it from Albus Dumbledore since defecting. “…Yes?”
“Get some rest.”
“…” Severus seemed to be weighing his circumstance. “…yes, m’lord.”
The man froze, his eyes growing wide. Any exhaustion in him was flooded with fear and his face bleached white with shock. One hand fisted the papers in their grasp hard enough to tear, the other hovered over his wand-holster. Fight or flight response, Albus noted.
“Severus…I know you know this, but your heart may not. I will say it anyways as it must be said. You are not trading in one lord for another.” Albus watched the man go through many emotions. Shame, self-hatred, and anger numbering among the most prominent. “Though you work for me, I am your friend. I will never ask you to sacrifice your own health in service to me. I may ask you to kill again, or do something you despise. In the face of the greater good, we all make sacrifices. But taking care of yourself should never be among those sacrifices.”
Albus laid a gentle hand on Severus’ shoulder, knowing the man wanted to flee and needed time to process his hurts. “Take the weekend off.”
“Is that an order?” Anger-filled eyes pierced the old man. The ex-Deatheater had a lot of anger, mismanaged unfortunately. This would have to be seen to before Albus could propose his idea of employment to the man.
“It is a request from a friend who cares about you, Severus.” Albus demured, releasing his light grip on the man’s shoulder.
Severus was out the door in seconds.
——
It was five months later Severus agreed to the position of Potions Professor, but only if the position of DADA Professor never be filled.
Not from him wanting the position himself, or at least only from that reason. There was a curse on that position, and the teacher that taught that class never returned a second year to teach it again.
Professor Jetison retired early, and he was considered the lucky one. Professor Glimmerly, being three quarters Veela, had to leave after nearly throwing a fireball at a seventh year that didn’t take rejection easily. Professor Hopper was permanently blinded from a student’s spell gone wild. Professor Amnity, though she was a lovely woman, was hiding her vampiric nature. To her credit she never touched the students, chosing instead to go after other things in the dark forest.
After several more instances like this, Albus was at the end of his rope. Hiring new professors was difficult, as the turn-over rate was scaring away all the best candidates.
“The only loophole to that curse is if the position no longer existed.” Severus commented one day.
This made Albus look up. “Oh? What would we do without Defence Against the Dark Arts?”
Severus thought hard about it. He took a seat and grumbled a half-hearted response, “Split the curriculum into different classes. A class on Wards, maybe. Another on Curse Breaking.”
Albus looked at Severus in awe. “Brilliant.”
“I was half joking.”
“It’s brilliant. Defence Against the Dark Arts has three essential units: Dueling, which includes protection spells and hexes, Curse Breaking, and protecting oneself against dark creatures. Wards can be a new class, for advanced students looking to challenge themselves.”
“Profess-“
“The unit on creatures can be a parallel course taught alongside Care for Magical Creatures. Curse Breaking will be a brand new class. Dueling can be a club, of which I’m sure you can run without issue. That’s been your favorite subject, hasn’t it?”
“Well, yes. But- aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”
Albus got up and began pacing. The reason behind standardised teaching methods did not occur to him, neither did the OWLS and NEWTS, and how any change to curricullum would affect those standardised tests. Like a Niffler with a shiny galleon, he latched onto this idea with no thoughts of letting it go. “We will need approval from the school board council members, but that’ll be easier if we use our contacts at the Daily Prophet that you so helpfully blackmailed. We’ll rope them into publishing a puff piece on the benefits of change to our school curriculum. The board won’t be able to say no after that.”
The dumbfounded expression did not lift from the ex-Death Eater’s face for the rest of the day.
—-
“Maybe we should add more muggle classes? I hear there’s science and maths other than Arithmancy-“
“Don’t you dare.”
—-
The changes to Hogwarts did not stop there. As Albus expected, the board was unable to raise objections other than their stubborn views on tradition.
The benefits were too great, however. Hogwarts teachings had been holding the castle in a time-frozen snowglobe for far too long. The younger generations were hungry for new subject matter. Soon, Albus’s office was fit to bursting with owls and letters containing handwritten opinions, ideas, suggestions, and requests for the new classes. Half of the letters were for changes to be made in existing classes; the idea of improvements to education was a breath of fresh air to all the students, parents, and even faculty.
Minerva even pointed out the age of the material still being taught in History of Magic. The books being used today held regurgitated information that had been the same for nearly two hundred years. Nothing more current was even mentioned.
“If we don’t educate people about the mistakes of their past, then they are bound to repeat them. They need to hear about the wizarding wars, not the goblin wars.” Minerva said, pointedly. She also, in not so many words, disclosed at the end of her and Albus’s visiting tea hour that it was ‘about damn time this place experienced reformation’.
The only problem was Professor Binns, who was almost shaking out of his vapor boots in trepidation. Which was the most emotion that the ghost had ever shown in his entire afterlife.
“Change?” Binns droned in his regular monotone speech. “To my class?”
“Indeed, Mr. Binns.” Albus smiled kindly. He then held up a hand. “As well as for you.”
He had a few more words with Professor Binns, whom was crying tears of joy at the end of their discussion. Albus would offer the professor a handkerchif if it wouldn’t phase right through him.
“Would you care to join the rest of the faculty in the great hall?” Albus asked respectfully. “I’m about to make the announcement myself. It’s a surprise for their end of school year dinner.”
Binns did go to the great hall, as asked. There was a pep in his step, and all the students and fellow ghosts he drifted passed did a double take at the sight of him in such a jolly mood…or any mood, really.
What followed was one of the most heartwarming and overdue retirement announcements in his career as headmaster.
“I am privileged to announce the retirement of one of our dear faculty here at Hogwarts.” Albus began. He waited for the ruckus to simmer down before the reveal. In the corner of his eye he saw Filch clutching his mop like his life depended on it.
After the students quieted down, Albus continued, “Professor Cuthbert Binns, our long beloved teacher for History of Magic.”
There were mixed reactions of course. Some of the students blatantly wondered if their headmaster finally figured out that Binns was a ghost. The ghosts looked ready to revolt, and likely would have if it weren’t for the massive joy radiating off of the history professor. “After seventy-five years and nine months of service, fifteen years of which were enjoyed post-mortem by Professor Binns himself…this concludes his final year at Hogwarts. Professor Binns. You, dear friend, are officially retired. Congratulations.”
A sniff and the see-through man was wiping tears from his eyes. Professor Binns, now just ‘Mister’ Binns, picked up a white and whispy bag of luggage that appeared at his side. A late 1940s hat fogged itself into existence on his bald head, which he gratiously tipped at the headmaster in salute.
Then the most baffling thing happened.
The whole of Hogwarts bore witness to a ghost passing on. Nothing dramatic, as likely expected by students who bothered to wonder about such a thing. His body radiated a calm light before he duly faded away.…and that was it.
The drama was more in the uproarous applause and cheering. It was a sound so voluminous that it pounded the walls of the Great Hall and echoed out to the various halls of the castle. Centaurs in the dark forest looked up, their ears twitching at the far-off sound of cheer.
All of them noticed a change in the stars that night.
—-
“I should have done that ages ago.”
Minerva wheeled around with an incredulous, “You think?!”
—-
Albus gathered all his papers and got to work. He needed to do some recruiting after all. The last interview he remembered doing was for the position of Divinations professor. The old man knew very well how that had gone, and he’d like to be better prepared this go around.
He needed professionals in their field. Three new academic rubrics would need to be planned out, and who better to plan them out than the best wizards for the job?
Albus sent a long and hopeful letter to one of his oldest friends. Hopefully Scamander would enjoy coming back to Hogwarts to teach all the students about the world’s creatures he found in his travels.
Albus then turned his eyes to several masters of their field of Wards. Of the owls he sent out to each of the potential Wards professors, one had a particular long journey overseas to the other side of the world.
The owl must have gone through the international portkey stations, as it was only two weeks later Albus got his response. It was also the only owl to return with good news. Susuki Jin—as Albus understood that surnames came before first names in that region of the wizarding world—had admitted interest in the position. However he claimed a meeting would be of import as hiring from other wizarding communities is quite a large political matter.
Albus would have to put his best red shoes on, for all the political dancing he’d have to do. Red was a lucky color for Japan, last he checked.
As for a Curse Breaking professor, an American native from the US looked to be very promising. Highly illustrated graduate of Ilvermorny, Chayton of the Sioux tribe surprised Albis at the start of the interview by flying in as a falcon. A falcon! He could already tell that this man and Minerva would get along like a house on fire.
——
Albus did feel terrible when Quirinus Quirrell came back from his travels to find his previous position of Defense Against the Dark Arts gone. He broke the news in his office at the top of the Howarts tower. The feeling of guilt did not last long however, when there was a roar underneath the stuttering man’s new purple turban to “KILL HIM!”
The voice was disturbing in its familiarity. Albus was on his feet, the Elder wand in hand as the ex-Defence professor attacked him.
Quirinus was no match for Albus Dumbledore. When the squirrelly man was trapped in over ten meters of rope from an Elder-wand-empowered Incarcerus, the man cried out in pain as the parasitic soul attached to him ripped their connection from its roots.
Quirinus fell limp and lifeless after the lethal separation. An angry ghost escaped from the body, roaring in Albus’s face before fleeing for its afterlife.
Albus had to catch his breath as the adrenaline ran its course. The headmaster sat down wearily in his chair. This proved it; the dark lord was not gone for good.
Merlin’s beard.
…There was still a dead ex-professor in his office.
“Severus!” What better man to handle a dead body?
“You called? Oh…” Severus stopped in the doorway, staring at the dead and tied-up body on the floor. “Dare I ask what happened?”
——
Albus flooed to the safehouse to check on Harry and his guardians, Lupin and Sirius. He gave them a rundown of what happened. The both of them panicked at the news and started talking relocation. Voldemort was still alive, and once he got his hands on another body he’d be after the boy.
“Boys. There’s no need.” Albus assured. “The wards over this house will protect against anyone who does not already know where it is. I will go out and investigate this myself.”
“But Professor,” Lupin objected, “Appologies, I’d never presume to know better than a man more than twice my age-“
“You’ll be killed out there!” Sirius had no reservations to speaking his mind. “Don’t go it alone Albus. That’s just what he would want. You are stronger with trusted friends at your side. You taught us that.”
“Not to mention we’ve no clue how he survived that night.” Lumin added. “We need to research.”
“My boys, I said I would ‘investigate’. Whatever gave you the impression I’d do otherwise?” Albus said softly in amusement. He watched the two mauraders stop in their tracks, a look of confusion and then embarrassment coming over them. “Now if you would be so kind Sirius as to dive into the Black family library, I think Poppy would love to have another turn at babysitting the young Harry. Lupin, could you perhaps help me look into Tom Riddle’s past for any clues as to how he escaped death?”
Albus knew of the prophecy spoken of Voldemort and his defeat at the hands of the young Harry Potter, born to those who thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. But that did not mean that Albus would sit by and wait for prophecy to take its course. However he could help Harry, he would. Albus Dumbledore is the adult here. And as adults should, he would pave the young man’s way to a brighter future. If young Harry were to ever face Voldemort, he would not be alone. The whole of the Wizarding World would be by his side.
——