Disclaimer: i own nothing apart from the charcters that i made up
Chapter one
Professor James Harold Darwin Potter sat nervously at his new desk and twiddled his thumbs in anticipation. Today was his first day as Hogwarts's transfiguration professor. Professor McGonagall, the usual transfiguration professor, had decided to have a much earned and needed year off. Apparently she had gone on an around the world trip. James chuckled as he tried to imagine the stern McGonagall in a sunhat perched on her and cocktail in hand on some exotic beach somewhere. He had always thought that McGonagall never stopped working. She had worked at the school for, he thought, forever. She had been his professor and head of house when he attended school, which was a good five years ago. And now he was going to be doing her job for the year. It seemed unreal to him. It would certainly be a big change from his usual life.
The charming, attractive, messy raven haired, bespectacled, very in shape James Potter had previously been England's number one chaser and for the past two years he had even been the captain. He loved quidditch but he needed a break. He had three reasons for needing a break. Of course one of them was because McGonagall was going away and recommended him highly for the job as he had excelled highly in transfiguration when at school. The second reason being he was getting tired of all the fame and attention. Yep you heard it. James Potter was sick of attention. He didn't mind people, like fans, talking to him or admiring him. Being a marauder he was used to that kind of attention. He supposed the numerous photo shoots he had done were ok. He never let them take nude ones though. He didn't mind taking his kit off. Just not to the whole world cause no doubt it would be on the front cover. His parents read magazines. Them seeing him like that would just be….errrrrr….too embarrassing. He'd never be able to go to his childhood home ever again. The one bit of the attention he certainly did not like was the constant nagging of The Daily Prophet for interviews and the fact that when he declined the offer they would just write false and incorrect ones instead. It angered him so much. Why couldn't they just leave their favourite hotshot quidditch player alone? The third reason was being that he had been injured quite badly during his last match in the quidditch world cup. Despite the fact that the Swedish seeker had caught the snitch England had still won the match and the cup. James had scored an outstanding 23 goals out of a total of 36 scored by all three chasers. One of the Swedish beaters had decided to avenge his team by sending quite a nasty curse at James whilst he was busy flying the victory lap. That was the first time he had ever fallen off his broom whilst playing professionally. A picture of his unconscious mangled body had been splashed across the front cover of every magazine and newspaper for days. Two months on and of course he was perfectly fit again. That is apart from a long thin curse scar that ran right across the bottom of his back. It ached occasionally but mostly it didn't affect him at all.
James glanced at the clock. He had one minute until the start of class. He stood up and wiped the board clean and wrote in his neat italic hand writing 'Professor.J.Potter'. He actually thought it pretty pointless as everyone knew who he was. He nervously ran a hand through the black mess that was his hair, making it its classic windswept style that girls just seemed to love, and rolled up the sleeves to his new white Italian silk shirt. The classroom filled within the next few minutes with his first class; seventh years.
Most of the guys were either sizing him up or looking in awe at their favourite quidditch player. The girls on the other hand were all staring at him with lustful eyes. James was used to it so he didn't even bat an eyelid.
"Right, good morning, I'm Professor Potter as you already probably know. I'm taking a year out of quidditch to cover McGonagall's classes. Oh and just a side note to all the Gryffindors in here, I wont be taking over McGonagall's duties as your head of year and I'm not sure which teacher is either," said James smiling, his usual confident charming self was kicking into action as he talked to his very first class. "I was unsure of what to teach you in your very first lesson with me so I thought we'd go over something you've already done in your sixth year. Everyone last year had fun laughing at other people when they'd tried to change their eyebrow colour and ended up accidentally blowing their eyebrows off." The class laughed as they remembered people practically running to the hospital wing for some hair growth ointment to rub on there non existent eyebrows. "Well today we're going to practice changing our hair colour with that spell instead of buying beauty potions. Although don't think that this will just be easier and save you money on potions girls because it doesn't look as natural with the spell and easier to notice the fakeness. Despite that it is wonderful just for streaks. Right enough discussion. You can either work in pairs or on your own I don't mind. At the end of the lesson I'll award twenty five points to the person with the hair that looks different but natural. And I don't just mean that it's brown. It could be bright green and look natural. Hair colour is made up of different shades not just one block of colour. Now I think I'll stop going on about hair colour because I'm starting to sound like a girl and it'll ruin my reputation." The class laughed once again and James grinned.
He sat down at his desk and watched his happy students laugh at each others outrageous hair colours. One boy thought he'd be clever by trying to make it multicoloured all at the same time. Of course it all went wrong and he turned his whole body multicoloured. The whole class laughed as the boys face went into shock horror. It was obvious to the James what kind of boy he was the moment he watched this happen. He was a show off without the brains, a flirter without the charms, and a snob without the money. He had to hold back a laugh at the poor student. Instead he lazily flicked his wand at the boy and the colours started to fade until they turned into the normal colours of his skin.
"If you want different colours then you have to do it one at a time or something like that happens," explained James to the rest of the class. "You look familiar anyway what's your name?" He asked the boy whose spell had gone wrong.
"Drake Longbottom, sir. I believe you know my older brother Frank and his new wife Alice."
"That's right. You do look like him when you look closely. How are Frank and Alice by the way?" James asked out of interest.
"They're both doing fine, sir. They've told me to tell you that you're welcome to come round to dinner anytime. They live in Hogsmeade now so they're quite close to Hogwarts."
"Thanks, tell them I say hi in your next letter to them."
"Yes professor."
James started addressing the rest of the class who had previously gone back to their work. "As it's your first lesson with me I'll be kind and not give you any homework today but you shouldn't expect your other professors to do the same. They're not as nice as me." James cracked award winning shiny white teeth smile and all the girls sighed as their hearts fluttered. "I did promise twenty five points to the person with the most natural looking hair. They go to the girl with the long purple hair. What's your house miss….?"
"Its Ravenclaw and my name's Aleesha Fleesham."
"Well done Aleesha. You seem to be good at transfiguration and you've now got lovely hair," smiled James. Aleesha beamed and all of her friends started to giggle in the way all girls can do. "There's ten minutes left until the bell goes so I want all of you to change your hair back to it original colour. Once you've done that you're free to go."
James watched them change their hair back to their original colour with no troubles. He expected them all too just go straight away but instead a group of boys and even a few girls came up to his desks with expectant faces.
"Sir, we all just wanted to know, what it is like to be the world's best chaser?" asked the most confident boy, he was tall with curly blonde hair and tanned skin. James knew in an instant that this boy was the confident boy of the class.
"Well it's great," chuckled James. "Well it was great. You get to play the sport that you love and you get paid a hell of a lot for it. You're instantly famous and everybody knows you. But the best thing is when you're getting cheered on by your fans. The fans, that no matter what you do; will still cheer and love you. It makes you feel special. If any of you want to become quidditch players then do it because you love the sport not because you want the fame or money. It's not worth it otherwise."
The group of students was drinking in every word he was saying and nodded their heads in wonder.
"What kind of curse was it that you were hit with?" asked a determined looking redhead from the middle of the cluster of students. James scrutinized her before answering. She reminded him from a girl he used to know from what seemed a past life time ago. Except the girl he was staring at now had big chocolate brown eyes instead of the glittering emerald eyes he remembered so well.
"The healers still aren't sure even at this point," explained James. "And to be brutally honest I really don't care. I'm alive and able to live a normal life still which is the most important thing. I take nothing for granted now, because of that though."
"Is it why you quit quidditch? Are you ever going to play again?" asked several of the people, they seemed quite desperate for answers.
"It's one of the reasons," said James whilst leaning back into his comfy black leather chair. "As for your second question, I don't know, I love quidditch but it is only a sport. There are so many more things I want to do with my life."
He would have continued answering the many questions that were being fired at him but someone at the door interrupted their little question time.
"You do realize that all of you are ten minutes late to your charms lesson!" shrieked an irritated voice the doorway. "I have every mind to give you all detention. I don't care whether it's your first day or not!"
"Please don't," insisted James. "It's my fault. I don't have a lesson now so I lost track of time with them Professor…?" He couldn't see her; he could tell it was her from the voice, a voice he could have sworn he had heard in before in distant memories. The students were blocking his view of her and vice versa.
"Professor Evans the charms teacher," She answered promptly. James's breath hitched in his throat. Lily? It couldn't be, could it? The students seemed to sense his confusion and split in to two so he could see the doorway clearly. She saw him before he saw her.
"James?" She whispered as they both just stared at each other. Both thought this was impossible. James gulped. She'd changed yet she was still the same since school. She was still the same Lily Evans but she looked older and had an air of authority about her. He had to admit it. She was hot. Then again, when it came to her, she always was in his eyes. She was wearing a tight navy pencil skirt that revealed her long shapely creamy coloured legs and a white blouse that showed off her much loved body. Her fiery red hair was flowing free in waves down her shoulders and back. Her make-up, as usual, was to perfection.
Her emerald eyes turned cold. James thought he saw a brief flash of hurt in them but in an instant it was gone and all that remained was emptiness. James was saddened by this deeply. Usually he could read her emotions through her eyes like an open book. But then again, fives years changes a lot of things.
"We'll talk later," promised Lily, with no emotion or tone. "Class come with me." She exited the room with all eyes on her. Especially teenage lustful ones. James could already tell that Professor Evans was a favourite among the male members of Hogwarts. The students followed behind her, still confused to what they had witnessed between their professors, leaving behind a Professor Potter banging his head on the desk repeatedly.