The late summer sun rose lazily over the horizon, blanketing all of England in a warm, crimson glow. Over the orchards, the fields, and into small dusty windows it crept, wiping darkness from every surface. The light touched a sleeping Harry, who laid sprawled on his copy of Hogwarts, A History. It lifted a little gloom from the Burrow.

Harry had been up all night, studying like a madman. How could he not? An 18 year old, going back to Hogwarts. He needed to be on top of his game, lest the seventh years treat him like an idiot.

But he was not going in empty handed.

The crimson light turned orange and then unmistakable yellow. It woke Harry just enough to remind him that he had a job to do. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and massaged the knot in his neck. Outside, a bell struck nine.

Two hours.

He grabbed his wand from inside the spine of his textbook and murmured "accio glasses", satisfied when they flew, gently, onto his face. It would be a great day.

Downstairs, voices had started murmuring.

"He's going to miss the first day, I'll tell you now. Completely miss the train, the boats, the sorting. I can see it now. Daily Prophet would read, 'Chosen One Disappoints the Wizards Of Tomorrow'." Ron said, his rough voice rising though the floorboards.

"Oh, sod off. He'll be fine. I'm sure he's waking up now."

In a flit of whim, Harry apparated in front of his best friend. The crack of sound startled Ron, who stepped back and tripped over a mop bucket. "What the hell?"

"Sorry." Harry said, shrugging on his shirt and helping himself to some toast. "I didn't realize I'm not allowed to apparate."

Hermione smirked. "Ron has been out of sorts lately, realizing that we won't see you for awhile."

"Well, he should unbunch his knickers. I can have guests, of course."

Molly, balancing three platters of pastries laughed aloud. "I very much doubt it. Now that all the Weasley's are finally gone, I imagine Minerva would like a little break between visits."

Harry smiled at both his adoptive mother and the thought of Minerva as Headmistress. She was every bit the perfect candidate, and absolutely fair. Strict, headstrong, and committed to her students above all else, Harry couldn't imagine a better person to lead after the war. Fifty-six Death Eaters, members of the Order and children passed away in the catastrophe that Voldemort had perpetrated. Among them, his close friend Remus Lupin, and Ron's brother Fred. The school needed leadership, and she would get it back on its feet.

Even after three months of grief, all the Weasley's looked as if tiny parts of them had broken off. Ginny had stopped speaking almost completely. George would leave for hours, only coming home to eat and sleep. He devoted every moment to the shop, because Fred would have wanted him to turn his grief into laughter for someone else. So George worked on gag after gag, joke after joke. Sometimes Ron would help him, but usually he just kept to himself.

Molly was the worst. Devastation mangled her already delicate features and aged her. She never slept. Arthur had become accustomed to sleeping alone, letting Molly roam and knit in the night instead. She single handedly made hats and scarves for all of the freed house elves in England (most of whom lived in Hogwarts by choice) and became very close to Hermione. It was wonderful for both of them, since Ron and her had begun dating. They were a sweet couple, really, if not a little dorky. Molly fully approved and it took her mind off of Fred every so often.

Harry found himself staying at the Burrow yet again, busying himself in personal studies and looking for the wizard equivalent of a GED. That was until...

"Minerva expects you to be there early, with the other teachers."

It was Molly who spoke, hushed and sweet. Only she knew the truth.

Harry had been asked to fill the Defense against the Dark Arts position, without graduation. When he brought up his lack of credentials, the school board shot him down. They were amazed by his "bravery", "nobility" and "humility under the circumstances". It was a unanimous decision, that Harry should teach DADA because of the horrors that he had seen and his adaption to risky situations. A natural born leader, they had heard about Dumbledores Army and were already planning Harry's welcome party.

Harry was not the only one offered a position. Neville had been offered herbology with no hesitation. He refused at first, planning to take a year of study abroad first and then returning to relieve professor Sprout. It would be nice to see a familiar face in a not so familiar role.

Hermione, oddly, had not been offered any teaching positions. She was very quickly taken into an internship at the local archives, however, and enjoyed a few months of menial activities. After all of the strife the last few years had been, menial was good. They all agreed on that.

"I can't believe you're going back to Hogwarts. I mean, a seventh year at eighteen? They don't do that for everyone, Harry. It's all very... Odd. You could easily find work without a finished education." Hermione murmured, taking a pastry from Molly's plate.

"That, coming from you?"

Hermione went pink. "I know what you're thinking. But I honestly feel that I received more than NEWTS in our year outside school. The war was devastating, but it was a true magical education on power and it's affects. I don't regret leaving Hogwarts."

"It helps you work at a library now." Ron snickered into his pasty.

"Shut it. The minister himself offered me a career in Magical Law, but I've refused for the time being."

Harry smiled darkly. "Do you mean to pass the Magical Bar Exam first?"

The joke was not lost on Hermione, but she did not laugh. "I do, in fact. Or some equivalent. But that's not information I can learn at Hogwarts. It's what I've been learning at the Archives."

They all looked at the girl, marveling in her strength of character. Anyone else would have jumped at the chance, but not Hermione. She needed to have the chance to prove herself worthy first.

"Well. I hope the offer will still stand five years down the line, dear." Molly said. "Not that it won't, but people do forget these things, the same way they forgot Lucius Malfoy is a traitorous, villainous piece of scum last time."

Harry jumped to her rescue. "I'm sure no one will forget the genius who destroyed part of Voldemort's very soul with a basilisk fang."

"Thank you Harry," she said, blushing a harsh red color. "But I know that I'm going to one day be obsolete. I'm not waiting around forever. Another few months, maybe. I'm just too tired right now for anything strenuous."

Ron looked at her quizzically, and then Harry. Harry would have to explain later that she was depressed. Hermione had been very good at hiding her symptoms, but Harry remembered vividly what it felt like to be so low. His whole life at the Dursley's was actually rather hard to remember, because the days weren't important. Every day felt like a blue cloud of anguish had taken all of his happiness. A dementor could have floated by without hesitation because his heart was so devoid of joy. Things that normal children had, friends, games, a family to talk to, he did not have. Life was ever so difficult to manage when there were no distractions from the darkness.

Hermione, after the war, had finally seen things the way they were. Harsh, cold, and unknown. Her own parents were still wandering Australia, and her life in London could not happen if they were in their right minds. Dentists, as you may know, are very invasive in nature. She knew that they would have to stay hidden, and it hurt her.

Meanwhile, Harry was trying to keep his intense fear of the day at bay. A teacher? What was he thinking?! He was only a year older than some of his students! They would treat him disrespectfully. They would hate him.

He hadn't bothered to tell Ron or Hermione just yet. They would need to know in the future, but not at that exact moment. Both would disapprove.

The clock chimed ten and Harry swore as he shot out of his seat and into the bathroom. He used a freshening charm on his appearance, changed his clothes and picked a piece of dough out from his teeth. His hair fell uncontrollably around his head like a bush. In the mirror, he saw the beginnings of dark shadows around his eyes. It, oddly, reminded him of Snape.

Maybe it was the christening of Teachership.

"Harry! If you don't hurry, the train will leave without you."

He took one final look at his green eyes and small scar, amazed that so much had happened and so little had changed. His face felt older but only physically. Inside, he was that same eleven year old boy who just wanted a little love.

"CMON Harry!" Hermione called up the staircase.

With that, he took his coat and levitated his trunk down the stairs and out into the late morning sun.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry knew he was an adult by the way all the first years looked at him. They were curious, because clearly he was too old to be a student and too young to be a teacher. What sort of odd entity could he be? They peered into his carriage but didn't dare approach him. It took a few minutes for word to spread that Harry Potter was on the train.

"I thought he was dead."

"He killed you-know-who!"

"My brother died in the war. He was a friend of Harry's."

Colin Creevy, Harry remembered fondly. That must have been Dennis then, a fourth year. His brother Collin was both incredibly annoying and incredibly kind, but had not made it through the War. Harry remembered Dennis as a spitting image of his brother. That would be a little hard to swallow.

One brave little boy opened Harry's carriage without a word and sat right beside him. The child was thinner, softer, and obviously a first year. He wasn't afraid though, and silently ate a little bit of a pastry from his pocket. Neither looked at the other until the sweets trolly came by.

"Any snacks here? Mr. Potter? I do know how you love those chocolate frogs." The trolly keeper commented warmly, her apron askew. She seemed a little disheveled, almost stars struck. It was both annoying and adorable.

"No thank you, but perhaps my friend would like something."

He peered down at the tiny boy, who froze in his place. The boy's blonde-white hair faintly reminded him of Draco Malfoy. The boy was nothing like Malfoy, however, as he sat in complete silence without a single sign of hearing Harry. Maybe he was deaf?

Finding courage within himself, Harry crouched in front of the blond boy and looked him straight in the eye. He signed, "are you okay?"

No response.

Hm. He'd have to try a different approach.

The boy's eyes followed Harry, but he didn't speak. He could clearly understand that Harry wanted to communicate, yet that didn't matter to him. He kept chomping away at his pastry like an eleven year old would and ignored the elder wizard completely.

Harry looked back at the trolley driver, a little embarrassed. "Nothing here, thanks."

She huffed and shut the carriage door, muttering something about "ridiculous first years". It was enough to make the ten or so kids hanging around his compartment curious. They peered in, looking at both Harry in adult robes and the little boy completely ignoring him. First years indeed.

Harry, meanwhile, was miffed that he couldn't get the boy to communicate with him. He tried signing again, "can you sign?" But the boy clearly didn't understand. He stopped chewing and adopted the husky-puppy-head-cock.

"Why are you moving your fingers like that?"

Harry jumped a little in surprise. The voice was so familiar, like it was ripped out of a memory. It was the voice of eleven year old Draco.

"So you can speak. You were just ignoring me?"

"I didn't want anything from the trolley."

Harry couldn't argue with such sound logic. "What's your name?"

"Alois."

"Alois what?"

"Just Alois."

It effectively stumped Harry, that the boy looked and sounded so familiar, but he didn't press it. Instead, he breezed into the next subject. "What year are you?"

"First. What year are you?"

Harry chuckled. "I'm not in school anymore."

"Then why are you headed in a train towards the school?"

Good question. Harry smiled darkly. "Because I'm a teacher."

This made the boy seize up. "You're a teacher? But you look like a kid."

"Like magic." Harry smiled generously.

Harry immediately liked the boy, once he began speaking. Something about Alois reminded him of his own first year, and the dangers that had unfolded in front of him. Looking at the child now, it was hard to imagine that Harry himself had been that small, fighting the greatest Dark Wizard since Salazar Slytherin himself. He hasn't defeated Voldemort then, but he had gotten damn near close.

"You know what house you'll be placed in, yes?"

"Yes." He said, a little unsure. "That is, I know what my mother would want. But I... I don't know if that's how it is."

"What House was your mother?"

Alois paused, perhaps wondering if it was okay to discuss family details with a complete stranger. After a moment he deemed it acceptable. "She was a Slytherin, see. But she died some years ago."

Harry's heart broke for the little, suddenly melancholy boy. "Was she beautiful?"

"Yes, I think so." He smiled bravely at Harry. "She wanted me to go to Hogwarts very badly. She said I could be whatever House I wanted, but she was a Slytherin."

Harry bit his lip. He wanted to tell the sweet boy next to him that the sorting hat listened to requests, but wasn't sure if that was entirely true. It was for him, but only because he had affinities for multiple houses. Alois would have to fight for Slytherin.

"Just muster all your courage." He said lamely.

It didn't matter to Alois. Any advice was good advice. "Thank you, sir."

"My name is Harry Potter."

The boy's features paled considerably. They changed from light to absolute white, almost blue. His eyes, already massive and ice colored were that much larger. Never had Harry seen such surprise on someone's face.

"YOU'RE Harry Potter?"

Harry glanced out the window, thoroughly embarrassed. It wasn't Alois's shock, it was the fact that the same shock would be reflected on every member of staff and in every student's eyes... That was, if news didn't spread before he stepped off the train. Green grass sped by, alongside softly mooing cows and warm summer sun. They spoke of peace that wasn't broken by Voldemort's reign. Harry wanted that peace, that calm.

"Yes, I am. I fought Voldemort, I battled many other wizards and lost many friends. But now I'm just a professor. Or, if you wish, I can just be Mr. Harry. Or Mr. Potter."

He peered at Alois, who's whole face had fallen considerably. Was he as embarrassed as Harry?

"Mr. Potter, why are you talking to me? There are better students to talk to."

His chin had lowered so much that he was talking against the collar of his tee shirt. It hurt Harry's very heart. "No, there is no student I would rather be talking to right now, Alois, so raise your head." In the gentlest of voices, he said, "tell me some things about you. What do you like to do?"

Clearly not sure what to do, Alois clamped his mouth shut. Harry could see that with this one, he either got the whole story or no story. "If you prefer to sit in silence, that's fine. But I'm interested in getting to know you."

Alois whispered something indistinguishable.

"What was that?"

"I like... Muggle history."

He said "muggle" like it was a bad word, and Harry instantly thought of Malfoy's family. It amused Harry that something so boring like Muggle History was interesting to a little wizard.

"I like muggle history too. What's your favorite section?"

The two ended up discussing Serial Killers, and how many of them were just misplaced wizards with anger issues and no proper training. Their conversation lasted the rest of the ride.

When they finally pulled in, Hagrid's booming voice could be heard all the way through the walls of their carriage.

"FIRS' YERS! ALL THE FIRS' YERS FOLLOW ME!"

Stood up to stretch and pulled down his luggage from above his head. Alois hasn't come in with anything except his pasty and Harry assumed that his trunk was already inside.

"Well, c'mon then. The rest of your life starts today, Alois."

He smiled at his new friend and led him out into the dark pavement. First years always rode the boats, and Harry wanted Alois to get the experience before all they had left were Thestrals.

On the Tarmac, Hagrid saw Harry for the first time since the war had ended. His eyes grew even more massive. Harry, however, was not going to let Hagrid make a scene. It wasn't a complete secret that Harry was on the train, but it was a little secretive that he was teaching DADA. He rushed to Hagrid's side.

"Keep your voice down, Hagrid. I will explain later on why I'm here. This is Alois," he said, pointing down to the frightened blond child. "He's a first year. Keep him safe, don't let him drown. I have to go up to McGonagll's office."

All Hagrid could do was whisper, "Harry!" With a trickle of tears. Harry smiled brightly.

He made a good decision.