Author's Note and Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. The Greengrass family is a canonical family (and canonically part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight), and Daphne is in Slytherin canonically (and Astoria is married to Draco, in the epilogue), but everything else is my brainchild, mixed with the brainchildren of the Harry Potter fandom. And when brainchildren mix together we get babies.

Incidentally, I have no idea what I'm doing.

Chapter One: The Play's the Thing

The Greengrass family would be what you could call a normal Pureblood magical family. They followed the important circles, could trace their lineage back for generations like any self-respecting Pureblood (and were traditionally considered part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families), and followed all the traditional rotes and rituals that all Pureblood families were expected to follow. Despite all of the above being what would be considered Death Eater material, the Greengrass family were staunchly neutral in their outlook, neither supporting nor antagonizing the Death Eaters, and likewise doing the same towards the Order of the Phoenix.

In fact, they didn't particularly care one way or another about the news that the Ministry was to supplant the Hogwarts education, overriding the Headmaster's decisions. Traditionally, all Greengrass children were Sorted into Slytherin, the House with the least fondness for the Headmaster, so the Ministry's decree didn't affect them in the slightest.

And then they received word that Dolores Umbridge, of all people, was to be the new Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"That - accursed - wretch!" Roxanne Greengrass fumed as her husband, Cyrus, tried desperately to calm her down. "How could anyone think that this is a good idea?!"

"Now, now, dear, I'm sure that it isn't as bad as it appears."

"Not that bad?! You've never met her before, have you?! She is, at once, the most unpleasant and utterly incompetent witch I have ever had the displeasure of meeting! And you're telling me that she was hired to teach our children?!" Roxanne points at Cyrus accusingly, as if it's his fault that she is angry. "Even a Squib would be a better professor than her!"

Suddenly, both of them fall silent. Then, "Huh." Cyrus strokes his beard, looking wistful. "There's an idea."

Henry Greengrass knew, once he woke up, that this day would be different. After years of his family ignoring him, he suddenly found an owl perched on his roof, bearing the Greengrass crest, and a note in its talons.

Reading the note, he scratched his scalp, trying to figure out what this meant. Fifteen years ago, his father ensured that he lived away from the family due to the rise of the Dark Lord. Although over the years he had popped by the Greengrass Manor, frequently at first, he hadn't done so since his education landed him in Japan five years ago; even before that, he dreaded those visits, as he was forced to accept them and had no real love for the manor he grew up in. In fact, once he accepted his new placement, he was nothing less than delighted, and was finally immensely satisfied with his place in life. And now his father wanted him to go back?

Well, Henry mused, there must be a reason for it. Henry never knew his father to do things without a good reason. Packing up his things, he idly wondered how he would keep his house.

Henry frowned. The house wasn't cheap, and even with student loans it was difficult for him to afford it. Maybe I should just sell it, after all. Or maybe his partner could spot some of the funds up front. He'd have to ask.

Making a note to his house-mate, Henry grabbed a packet of Floo powder and headed to their fireplace. Igniting it, Henry hoped that the Floo powder didn't outright break the electronic igniter. Well, I'm sure I can Floo home regardless. The fireplace roared to life, and he tossed Floo powder into the fire, turning cascading orange into furious green.

"Greengrass Garden," Henry intoned purposefully, and stepped through.

The Floo roared to life, and Henry stepped out into the manor. Hasn't really changed much in three years.

The Greengrass manor hadn't physically changed in five years, except perhaps being noticeably dimmer.

Henry made his way to the dining room, where he was greeted by his parents.

"Artemis," his father coolly greeted him. Henry narrowed his eyes.

"I thought I told you never to call me that," Henry hissed out. "My name is Henry, you miserable old man."

To his surprise, both of his parents refrained from reacting with more than a nod. "Apologies," his mother said, not sincere but also not sarcastic. Henry blinked.

"Really? No smart remarks about magic? No subtle comments about me disgracing the family name? Nothing about my chosen name?" Henry blinked again as his questions failed to garner a reaction. "Huh. Must be important. Okay, what's up?" Henry grabbed a chair and plopped down ungracefully, placing his feet on the table, and was mildly gratified to notice a displeased frown appear on his father's stoic face.

"You want me to what?" Henry asked disbelievingly for the fifth time.

"You will be a professor at Hogwarts in the upcoming term," replied his father.

"...why?" Henry asked, honestly stumped.

"Because the alternative is that horrid wretch," replied his mother, a bit irritated.

"She teaches Defense," Henry noted. "That's kind of magically important."

"I don't trust that woman with my children," his mother said in response.

"Well, it's not like I can just take over the Defense post," Henry said, ignoring the remark. "I don't know a damn thing about that subject other than it's more physical than people tend to expect. Besides, nobody would trust me to teach their kids anything 'magical'," he finishes with a grimace.

"Dolores doesn't know anything about it, either," his mother replied. "I know that for a fact. In fact, she barely passed that class with an E."

"And the Minister appointed her? The hell is going on here?" Henry asked after a moment's pause. "Wait, an E is good, right?" he ended with a mumble.

"This has to do with the Headmaster more than anything educational," his father replied, choosing to ignore the mumbled comment. "The Minister seems to be operating under the delusion that Headmaster Dumbledore is amassing an army dedicated to overthrowing his rule."

Henry scoffed. "Is he for real? The Minister has full-blown Aurors. The Headmaster's only 'army' would be all school-children. Not exactly Auror-fighting material, there."

"You know that, I know that," responded his father, "your mother knows that, and even the Headmaster himself knows that, but the Minister doesn't. I can guarantee this issue will be discussed in the Wizengamot."

"I have no idea what that is," Henry noted. "Well, if it comes up in discussion, point out that if he's so scared of that result then he should increase Auror funding and appoint reliable bodyguards, instead of...doing whatever it is he hopes to achieve with this result."

"Changing the subject," his father interjected, to Henry's exasperation, "how have your studies gone?"

"Reasonably well," Henry said, leaning back in his chair. "My studies have uncovered new evidence that I'm more than willing to apply to products. Plus, my partner and I have finished our thesis work."

"That's great!"

"We're planning on releasing new items - oh, hello, Daphne," he waved merrily at his sister walking into the kitchen. She responded with little more than a nod. "Wow, you've turned her stoic. Nice work." His father nodded minutely, not realizing the joke. Henry rolled his eyes. "Anyway, we're planning on releasing a new product into the Japanese wizarding market. It's tough to work with, but I'm doing my best."

"You're doing your best; that's all that matters," his mother said. "Would you be able to attend to your business while being at Hogwarts?"

"Wait, what?" Daphne asked.

"I'm still thinking about if I even want to become a Professor. I mean, I'd have to talk to the Headmaster, and I don't even know if I can get to the castle," Henry said.

"You definitely can; there is already a Squib in their employ, one Argus Filch," his mother replied.

"Wait, what?" Daphne asked again.

"The way I see it, nobody would question your involvement, since the Ministry honestly doesn't care about you and the Headmaster will undoubtedly be impressed with how you've managed to make a name for yourself," his father noted.

"Is there a spot for 'Runes' classes, d'you think?" Henry inquired, hand to his chin. "Not 'Ancient Runes', that's more of a language course than anything, I'm thinking 'Applied Runes' would be like something in my line of work."

"Wait, what?" Daphne asked a third time.

"Oh, you didn't hear? There's a person at the Ministry who is apparently not a good teacher so Mum and Dad are trying to get me to take her spot. I'm not going to but I'd be more than willing to be a professor of something else."

"You really should take the Defense class, Art-Henry," his father stressed. "But, if you feel that strongly against it, then I will have to talk to Dumbledore and we will get something worked out."

"I don't feel strongly about it. I just...don't particularly care one way or the other about it." Henry shrugged. Then he grinned. "That's the Greengrass way, after all."

The corners of his father's mouth tugged up near-imperceptibly. "Indeed." He leaned forward on his chair, hands covering his mouth. "As expected from my heir."

Henry's grin dropped abruptly and his face became stoic, his pose shifting to be slightly more polite. "I'm still...?"

"Of course." His father was definitely smiling now, even if it was a small smile. "You're the only person I'd trust with the family name. No offense, dear," he finished with a glance at his wife.

"None taken." Roxanne shrugged the offense off. "I agree with your assessment, after all."

"But not...?" Henry waved in Daphne's general direction. "Wouldn't you want a witch to be the heir? Or, 'heiress'?"

Daphne waved dismissively. "When I am to get married, my contract states that I will be forced to lose the name. Better a Squib than it falling into oblivion."

Henry stared at her. "There is so much wrong with that that I don't even know where to begin."

His mother sighed. "We had no choice; it was either take the contract or lose all of the prestige the Greengrass name still holds. Astoria, at least, has the ability to keep the Greengrass name. And, of course, there's you."

Henry's gaze shifted from his sister to his mother. "There is always a choice." Henry's eyebrow quirked up. "Plus, Astoria? She's still a hopeless romantic, isn't she?"

"She's still young; she'll grow out of it," her mother waved dismissively, to which Henry scoffs.

"With an attitude like that, it's a wonder that Astoria didn't already just ditch the family and run off with some guy."

Everybody around Henry grimaced, and his father spoke up. "She's contracted to one Draco Malfoy, who she apparently already has a crush on, and the contract explicitly states that the second-born will be a Greengrass."

Henry stared at his father, and then burst out laughing. "Wow, you've really messed up big-time, dad!" Through his laughter, Henry managed to ask, "You know the Malfoys traditionally only have one child, right?"

Cyrus stared at his son for all of three seconds before hitting himself in the face.

"And here I was convinced that you never did things without a good reason." Henry chuckled and got up from his seat. "Where is Tori, anyway? I haven't seen her in so long."

"I'm right here," replied Astoria, walking into the kitchen where everyone else is. "What are you talking about?"

"Your betrothal contract," Henry said. "And how the contract pretty much ruins our family."

"Oh." Astoria wrinkled her nose. "I don't like thinking about it."

Henry laughs. "Good! You're thirteen, you're too young to think about it anyway."

"Well, when am I supposed to think about it?" Astoria pressed. "Just because I don't like thinking about it doesn't mean I don't."

Henry grinned wider, but didn't comment on her statement. "Missed you, Tori."

Astoria walked over to Henry and hugged him. "Missed you too, big bro."

"Are you going to accept the job?" his father asked, after Astoria released the embrace.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Henry waved dismissively. "Just make sure that you ask about an Applied Runes course before Defense." Henry turned around to leave.

"Of course, my son. We will see you soon," his father said.

"But not too soon, I'd hope," replied Henry, before disappearing in flames.

I can't believe I'm doing this, Henry thought, not for the first time, as he straightened out his collar. Teaching at Hogwarts. Me. Henry had already planned his departure from Japan, with his house-mate fully informed of the changes. He grabbed his bags and headed towards the front of his house, where his father waited for him.

"My son," Cyrus Greengrass intoned.

"Father," Henry replied in kind, nodding at him.

His father stuck out his arm, and Henry took hold of it, before they Apparated to somewhere on American soil, and then to right outside of Hogwarts, by the gamekeeper's cabin.

The male Greengrass duo strode towards the Headmaster's office, the older of the two walking quickly and purposefully, the younger walking lazily but easily keeping in stride. Henry's fears of not being able to see Hogwarts were unfounded; the castle was still visible to him, in all its magical glory. Henry suspected his father cast some sort of charm on him at some point without him knowing, but, as he was obviously otherwise unharmed, he let it go.

After a while, Cyrus and Henry stopped in front of a gargoyle statue. They paused for a moment, Cyrus taking his time to unravel a piece of parchment from his pocket, before stating clearly, "Cockroach Clusters." Henry quirked his eyebrow in clear amusement, and Cyrus shrugged minutely.

"Albus Dumbledore is very fond of sweets," he replied to Henry's obvious question. Henry let out an, "Ah," of understanding. The passageway opened and the two Greengrass men walked into the Headmaster's office. In the office was, of course, the Headmaster, as well as a middle-aged woman with long, brown hair.

"Ah, hello, Lord Greengrass!" Dumbledore said in his usual manner. "And who is this young man?"

"By God," Henry gaped openly. "I could lose so much in that beard."

Both Cyrus and Albus looked at him. Henry sheepishly replied, "I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Yes, quite." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled somehow as he said this. Henry decided not to look at his eyes and instead chose to stare at that massive white beard.

"I take it you've received word of my suggestion?" Cyrus asked Dumbledore, who nodded. "This is him. Art-Henry, this is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and Professor Bathsheda Babbling."

"Nice to meet you," replied Henry, as serious as he could respond while staring at the beard. Dumbledore noticed this and chuckled.

"Yes, it is quite impressive. I'm rather proud of it, you know." Cyrus elbowed his son as Dumbledore continued. "I hear you have a proposal for a course?"

"Huh?" Henry got elbowed again. "Oh, right. My suggestion is to replace Ancient Runes, which is ultimately useless, with Applied Runes. Or, at the very least, supplant Ancient Runes with Applied Runes. There's more to Runes than the language and a lot of it is applicable around the world."

"Something you fail to understand, child, is that the study of ancient runes is a valued course to wizarding culture." Professor Babbling replied, sneering. Henry would be offended, but as his goal was to take over her class, he figured it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that she disliked him.

"I honestly don't care at all about that," Henry replied blithely, ignoring the Professor's outraged gasp and his father's disapproving frown. "You really can't do anything with the ancient runic scripts your class teaches, except maybe reading ancient documents and designing ritual equipment, which are both frowned upon in wizarding Britain, anyway. And nobody reads in Elder Futhark, ever. Besides, there are more modern approaches that do much of the same thing without a lot of the hassle."

"Excuse me?!" Professor Babbling obviously didn't take this well at all, judging from her rapidly-reddening face and the veins bulging on her forehead. "I'll have you know that this course has important roots in history! Even Rowena Ravenclaw herself approved of this course, and many historic figures have taken this course and succeeded in their lives!"

"No thanks to this course, obviously," Henry snarked.

As their conversation went back and forth, Henry's father stared at Dumbledore, who stared back.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked.

Cyrus thought about it for a moment, looked between his son and the professor, and then sighed. "Yes, please. I feel like I'll need it."

After watching the two bicker even more, Henry mentioned that "wow, you sure know a lot about history, why don't you just go teach that?" At that point, Dumbledore finally interrupted them.

"Yes, that is a good idea."

Henry and Professor Babbling abruptly stopped and turned to the Headmaster, who had a twinkle in his eye.

"After all," Dumbledore said as he sucked on a lemon drop, "Professor Babbling, you certainly know a lot about historical figures. And Henry, your debate shows that you know more than most people on the subject of runic arrays in modern society.

How about a compromise? Henry - or should I say, Professor Greengrass - can become the new teacher of Ancient Runes, of which I will change the course title next year, and Professor Babbling here can become the new History of Magic teacher. After all, I feel that Professor Binns has been in service for long enough," Dumbledore finished with that same twinkle in his eye.

Henry and Professor Babbling ended up flapping their mouths wordlessly. Cyrus took this moment to interject.

"If it changes anything, I feel that this is a good idea."

Professor Babbling sneered. "Of course you'd say that," she said caustically. "And, with all due respect, Headmaster, but you're willing to allow this...this whelp to teach the most important course in all of Hogwarts? He's just a boy!"

"As Henry has just proven," Dumbledore pointed out, "he does know what he's talking about."

"If it makes you feel any better," Henry interjects, "I honestly think you'd be a fantastic History of Magic professor."

Professor Babbling scowled at Henry, but her face turned from angry to thoughtful.

"So, next year, then? Give Professor Binns a chance to say his last goodbyes and give all the Ancient Runes students a year's notice, before I become their new professor?" Henry asked. "It sounds good to me."

"Why not do that for this coming term?" Dumbledore retorted. "After all, you seem ready to go."

Henry blinked. "That doesn't give any of us much time to prepare..."

Dumbledore chuckled. "People have always called me barmy. Even my supporters have occasionally called me a bit mad. Doing something like this is very unorthodox, I'll admit, but with the Ministry's coming changes, I have the feeling that I'll be losing a lot of power over my decisions in the coming days. Besides," his eyes twinkled again, "life's no fun without a few surprises here and there."

Henry grinned. "You, I like. You are a credit to life itself."

Professor Babbling abruptly walked off, shaking her head.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised that you'd do something as ridiculous as this," is the Professor's last parting shot. Dumbledore chuckles.

"Welcome to the faculty, Professor Greengrass."

Henry set his bags onto his new bed. The Headmaster was kind enough to allow him to live in the castle, in a room that was at once both secluded and close enough to the kitchens and his new classroom that Henry wasn't irritated by its location at all. Kicking off his shoes, he laid down on his bed and felt the fluffy pillows on his face.

Suddenly, the ghostly Professor Binns flew into the room and locked eyes with Henry. "YOU! CURSE YOU, BOY! You've taken my job away from me!"

Henry barely had time to let out a muttered, "Eep," as he rolled away from the ghastly spectre, grabbing a glove in the meantime. Standing upright, Henry inched towards the door and barely had time to grab the handle before the ghost came and tried to headbutt him again, so he was forced to jump away.

"Well, crap," Henry winced as he touched a small gash on his forearm. Apparently, Professor Binns was a ghost who could touch corporeal bodies and actually injure others. Henry put on the glove and scribbled out a quick runic array in mid-air, which launched a fireball at the ghost, who was knocked back by it but was otherwise unharmed.

Henry used the time the knockback gave to scribble a tiny runic array in shorthand runes using the blood from the small gash, which caused the door to explode violently. Henry ran away from the ghost, who was hot on his heels.

Henry hugged the wall as he ran, crafting runes on the wall with his glove, which fired all sorts of magical blasts towards the ghost, who ducked and weaved through the blasts, and pulled out a ghastly wand, firing spells at him.

Dammit, this year is going to suck, Henry thought as he was forced to weave through his blasts. If I can't stop this, then how am I supposed to stop the more unruly kids?

Suddenly, he heard footsteps in front of him. Then, a flash of light, and Professor Binns abruptly stopped moving.

"Professor Greengrass, what is going on?!" asked a somewhat disoriented Headmaster, as Henry caught his breath.

"That - right there - that's Professor - Professor Binns," Henry said, holding up his now-profusely-bleeding arm in between gasps. "Probably - probably could've done worse. Tried to - hold him off."

"Well, that's enough of that," interjected Dumbledore. With a whip of his wand, ex-Professor Binns disappeared in a flash of light.

"Oh, thank goodness," muttered Henry, as his legs gave out in front of Dumbledore, not noticing the other Professors around him. Dumbledore passed him a spot of dittany which he used to patch up the wound.

"Who is this?" asked one of the professors.

"That's Professor Greengrass, Dumbledore told me about him," answered another professor.

"What I don't understand is, why didn't he use any spells to get rid of him?" asked one of the other professors.

Henry blinked and then laughed. Neither his father nor the Headmaster mentioned anything about his status to the professors, apparently, so he grinned and got back up from the ground on wobbly legs.

"What, my father didn't tell you? I'm a Squib."

As Henry limped back to his room, grinning and ignoring the Professors' shocked faces, he couldn't help but think that maybe this year wouldn't be so bad, after all.