Youngest Defence Professor in History, is Boy-Who-Lived qualified?
<:-[Harry Potter]-:>
Finally, he remarks as he gazes towards the glistening red of the Hogwarts Express before him, its September first. Meaning, of course, that he has to prepare for a year of headaches, turmoil, and worst of all paperwork. Shivering at the mere thought of the infernal thing, which he’s already had a taste of having to formally go through a solid eighty pages just to ‘apply’ as Defence professor leaving him thirsting for a drink prof- Fillius – as he tries to get into the habit of calling all of the staff barring Dumbledore by their first names – introduced him to called coffee. It’s a rather nice drink that helps most of the staff, outside of Minerva who relies on scotch during the ‘harder’ times, get through the troublesome things. Even Dumbledore mentioned he mixes most of his sweets so they have a bit of caffeine in them just so he can function through all his three jobs – the mere thought of managing that much paperwork shows exactly how he’s known as the greatest wizard since Merlin.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts the young professor steps onto the bright steam work machine and starts to trail down to the prefect carriage – as apparently, he has to ‘introduce’ himself to the prefects before doing anything else which is going to be… interesting. Interesting as it’ll give him a good idea of each house’s reaction to his sudden change in status though he has a feeling it’ll go as followed: Gryffindor will put him on an even greater pedestal, Ravenclaws will be sceptical but only act against him if they aren’t learning from him, Hufflepuffs won’t care, and Slytherins… they’re a bit tricky honestly. Some of them, like Malfoy, will despise him for it – even more than they already do – but the majority will be akin to the Ravenclaws in that they’ll react according to his performance and to his biases.
While his at the start of first year would’ve likely taken points off them at every corner if I had the chance, the him of today just couldn’t care. Outside of Malfoy and his ilk he’s noticed that the rest are generally the ones who put the Cunning and Ambitious into their house’s titles. As a result, they only let him get away with it because the Malfoy’s are rich and powerful, basically the top of the top at the minute, but in the end, they don’t care who I am they only care what I can do that’ll benefit them. In this case it’s teach them a core subject that’s required for forty-five percent of the most lucrative and important jobs. Aurors, Potioneers, Curse-Breakers, Healers, Dragonkeepers, Obliviators, Unspeakables, the list goes on and on. For them it’s best for them to just let me do my goddamn job until that damn curse works me to death.
And recalling that huge list of jobs just so happened to remind Harry why exactly he feels he’s going to die before he becomes an adult. Even more so than the fact he’s suffered several attempts on his life before he even turned twelve. “What even is my life?” He questions to himself as he steps into the prefect carriage, facing the twn individuals sitting around before him. In order from left to right as they sit around the open-ended compartment they are: Percy Weasley and Daphne Maldon from Gryffindor, Gemma Farley and Nicholas Grimmet from Slytherin, Gabriel Truman and Alice Hawthorn from Hufflepuff, with Penelope Clearwater and Marcus Turner sitting opposite the Gryffindor duo – Penelope and Percy making clear signs to each other that an idiot could discern with but a glance. Right at the end of the opposing seats with desks between, each seat marked by house, that took the full length of the first half of the compartment sat the two ‘head’ students: Corey Hayden and Chester Davies from Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively.
After a brief pause when Harry first entered the magically sealed carriage – done so that no-one not a prefect, head boy or girl or staff member can enter – which ended with the Head Girl Chester Davies stating the obvious. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I wish I wasn’t here,” Simply replies the tired preteen. “But unfortunately, due to several circumstances concerning I am henceforth the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Or at least until that damn jinx kills me at least.”
What followed was more silence, mostly filled with sheepish blinking, before Percy responsibly asks. “Could you do an oath just so we know that the twins didn’t somehow put you up to this or anything?”
Nodding in reply the honest to god tired professor pulls out their wand and states. “I, Harry James Potter, declare on my magic that I hold the position of Defence professor at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. So, mote it be.” Letting off a silent Lumos to affirm the validity of the oath he turns back to the stunned dozen odd teenagers. “If that will be all just go and patrol the train, it’s going to start up soon, so you best ensure that no students are kept behind.” With the silent group just nodding in response he turns and just walks out of the group of speechless students.
Now should I go wander about for a bit myself or just go find Ron and Hermione already. Selecting the former he sheaths his wand in a discreet wand sheath hidden in his sleeve and head off.
Several hours later, and one Treacle Tart from the Trolley Lady who he learnt is named Margery Mason, he ran into an honestly distraught Hermione who just suddenly stormed up and grappled him once again. After successfully calming down the poor girl by just patting her on the back for a few minutes he goes and asks. “What’s wrong?”
“I-it’s – I couldn’t find you, nor Ron. You just disappeared after the whole Lockhart incident and then Ron is nowhere to be seen now either.” Huh, Ron’s many things but I know for a fact his mother would drag him here flailing and screaming if she had too. And Percy didn’t comment about it either, though admittedly he only spoke one line to me the entire time I was in the carriage and the rest of the time he was… distracted by Penelope so it’s no surprise he didn’t say anything about Ron. But the fact that he’s here means something likely ended up happening to Ron, which considering his mother once again, means he’ll try to go to Hogwarts some other- fuck I can feel the headache coming already.
Putting his hands atop Hermione’s Harry calmly and confidently states. “I’m going to go look for him now, go get changed and rest, the train isn’t far off from the station.” And with that he marches off back towards the prefect carriage which, upon arriving to find a few of the prefects – Percy Weasley among them – mentioning to the Head Boy that Ronald Weasley isn’t on the train, without noticing him the entire time, he interrupts. “I’m taking the emergency floo to Hogwarts to inform the rest of the staff. Knowing R- Mr Weasley he’ll do something stupid, so we best find him before he gets himself hurt.”
After the group recovers from momentarily being startled the head boy responds with a simple affirmative and Harry walks right past him to a small closet at the back of the carriage. Opening it up reveals a small fireplace with a floo pouch on the inside of the door. Grabbing some he throws some onto the fire and steps into the now green flames. “Hogwarts Headmaster Office.”
Stumbling out, this time catching himself before he falls down, of the floo he lands in the middle of a meeting between Severus and Headmaster Dumbledore. As he opens his mouth to speak Fawkes flames onto his shoulder causing the young professor to trip over his own feet once again and slam face first into the stone floor. Letting out a groan of pain he raises his bruised face up to face his silent co-workers. Sniffling up a bit of blood leaking from his nose he casually states. “We’ve got a student, a second year from a pureblood family, who missed the train somehow.”
Sighing Sna- Severus rubs his eyebrows together in frustration. “Which idiotic fool ended up somehow missing the express? Longbottom, I presume?”
Finally standing upwards, on both feet again, Harry looks right into Sn- Severus’ eyes and says tiredly. “Mr Ronald Weasley actually Pr- Severus. Though Mr Longbottom did lose his toad again, apparently.”
Blinking twice in rapid succession the two manage to quickly reign in their shock at the son of one of the most protective and stubborn woman the two know, even if the boy himself is a lazy arse at best, managed to somehow miss the train – a feat accredited mostly to their neigh perfect Occlumancy barriers. The younger of the two Occlumens speaks first. “Why am I not surprised, well let’s find this brat quickly enough then.”
As the greasy haired potions master steps towards the floo the elderly headmaster interrupts. “Now Severus I hope you don’t plan to punish him too harshly for his actions. I doubt he intended to miss the train and will be arriving shortly with Molly via Hogsmeade, there’s no reason to panic so much.”
Snorting the youngest professor gives an eye roll at the headmaster’s naivety and remarks. “It’s not that we think he’s responsible for this headmaster. It’s that if left to his own devices and in a… panicked state its likely he’ll end up doing serious harm to something or someone.”
Even though he appears put off by the thought Harry thinks he catches Severus’ reluctant agreement with what he said. The headmaster on the other hand. “Now you’re worrying over nothing, how much trouble could one second year possibly-“
And then a rather familiar scream echoes out across the castle as alongside the outer windows flies a blue blur that roughly looks like- “Is that a flying car?” Succinctly summarises the young professor as the trio, plus Fawkes’, gazes are all locked on the vehicle as they see the individual, they were just talking about spiral past them and towards the school grounds.
Turning to Severus with a mildly amused glint in his eyes Dumbledore orders. “Severus, I presume you can go collect our ‘missing’ student. As Harry and I have a feast to attend to.” With a dramatic sweep of his cloak with a scoff the bat-like professor stalks off and down the staircase after the red headed idiot leaving the eccentric headmaster and preteen professor alone for a moment. “I don’t think you have enough time to change into your robes, so let’s fix that.” States the elderly man as with a wave of his wand Harry’s rather ratty clothing transforms into a near perfect match to the formal professor robes, he purchased a month ago. A long sweeping cloak that falls to his shins sitting over a rather formal black suit with slight red trims around the edges that’s marked with the Hogwarts crest on his left side.
Awkwardly patting down the transfigured robes Harry nervously glances back up at the headmaster, a half-smile on his face. “Well, time to face the music then.”
<:-[Severus Snape]-:>
Glaring at the idiotic boy following behind him, the greasy haired potion professor inwardly mulls over how… unusual the past two months have been. When he’d first heard that Harry Potter of all people was going to be the DADA professor this year, he’d – for not the first and not the last time – questioned Dumbledore’s sanity.
If it weren’t for that damn oath he’d be as far from Hogwarts as the sky is from the earth but sadly that isn’t true and as such, he’s resigned himself to years of suffering due to his mistakes – which the part of him who felt hurt when Lily sent him a wedding invitation after years of avoiding each other cry out that he deserves it because of course he does.
Licking his lips lightly he withholds his growing desire for some firewhisky and tries to focus his irritation on the Weasley boy but keeps finding his thoughts drifting back to Potter. Now that he was not so worked up from managing classes worth of dunderheads every single day, he found that while the boy is actually rather – as loathed as he is to acknowledge it – talented and well behaved. For the entirety of his rather short time as a student under Snape Harry had lacked only one thing – something Snape will never admit to causing outside of his darkest spirals in which those vibrant green eyes fading as he lashed out with admittedly unreasonable questions on the first day of term to the boy – motivation.
For whatever reason, something tells the professor that it may begin with a Pet after hearing of whom exactly raised the boy, he kept lowering his score during tests. At first, he thought it was just the brat relying on Granger but later checking shows that even when she was petrified, and before they knew each other, he consistently gave in A or even EE grade homework but on tests he always lowers his performance to a P at best. Snape doubts its nothing more than habit to the boy at this point, but it still paints a rather unflattering picture that caused the part of Snape that truly hated the boy – and not just for what he stood for – to curl up and die. Ever since that realisation Snape took to avoiding the boy where possible and just being neutral about it, in the end there’s nothing of James beyond Harry’s looks and that’s something Snape accepts as a good thing.
Over these past months, now that Potter’s had to push himself to his fullest, he’s excelled beyond any of the staff’s wildest expectations. If he maintains such a pace, then the position of professor truly wouldn’t be wasted on him. Though being qualified to teach doesn’t indicate a good professor, or so Snape told Dumbledore to avoid having to admit to the boy’s talent last week.
But putting that mess aside the grouchy potions master sneers as the Weasley boy starts stuttering out excuse after excuse as to the absolute idiocy that was flying a car to the school. No, he doesn’t care that the gateway was closed. No, he doesn’t believe this was the only way for him to get to school. No, he will take that firewhiskey bottle for dinner tonight thank you very much.
Arriving before the great hall the teacher student pair meets an old woman with greying hair and a stern face. “Minerva.” Scrawls the stalwart potions master. “I believe you’ve been informed of the basics of Weasleys idiocy?”
“I have.” She sighs as she glares at the young boy. “And we’ll be discussing such things in my office, at best it’ll be a month of detentions. All depending on why exactly he thought it was a good idea to cause a potential risk to the statute of secrecy.” All in this calm, collective and monotone that, not that he’d admit it, sent chills down Snape’s spine. But then she turns back to her fellow professor with a look of defeat. “And I’ll deliver the firewhiskey to your office later.”
“Oh?” Snape, for a moment, thinks back as to the cause of such action. “Ah, so they didn’t question it then?”
“They were more stupefied than anything.” Huffs the cat animagus. “But that’s for later, come along now Mr Weasley.”
“B-but the feast?” With a glare from his two professors, the Gryffindor of the two sighing once again.
“Mr Weasley, with your situation your lucky you aren’t already expelled.” A subtle meek squeak from the boy foretold the tone she’d taken. “My office has sandwiches that’ll suffice, so follow me.”
As she trails off the mess of laziness that is the youngest male Weasley trots awkwardly behind her. Leaving the stoic potions master standing expectantly before the great hall’s doors.
Hopefully this year won’t devolve into an absolute shitshow like last year. If it does, I’ll need to resort to my emergency stash of alcohol I’ve been saving for when the Dark Lord returns years too early. And then when he actually returns, I’ll have to deal with him, and Dumbledore, on the regular while sober.
Severus Snape curses out to the universe regarding his fate once again as he steps forward, and the doors sweep open in welcome.