The young man walked up to the house. Next to its new, beautiful neighbours, the battered creaky abode looked, well, old. The porch was dusty, and spider webs festooned the corners. By all means, the house seemed to be abandoned. Even the door was somewhat boarded up, blocked by planks of rotting wood. Those were easily pried off, by way of crow bar or simply with bare hands. The nails were never properly hammered in and came loose easily, dislodged with the slightest of pulls. And finally, when the door was unbarred, the teen gingerly rapped the door.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

At first, the young man thought that no one was inside, that perhaps he made a mistake. Then the door slowly creaked open, and the boy knew that, as always, he was correct. "Go away." A voice croaked. The door slammed shut. Maybe a slight miscalculation.

Knock knock. "Go away." The voice croaked again, this time not even bothering to open the door. "What part o' go away do ya not understand?" The voice said, somewhat angry after another knock. The door rustled, creaked, and slowly swung open. "If I can't get rid of ya, I might as well let ya in."

The lad beamed and inched inside. He immediately regretted the decision. The inside of the house stank overwhelmingly of alcohol, smoke, and… other things, which he did not dare guess the source of. The boy fought the urge to hurl. "Well? Whaddya want?" A middle aged man was sitting on steps leading upstairs. In his hand was a bottle of Vulcan's firewhiskey. The boy briefly caught a glimpse of 1660. That is strong booze. "I ain't got all day, ya know." The man grunted. "Spit it out."

"Well, I've heard about someone living here…" He said. "Someone good at magic." He watched the older man carefully. The man froze, and for a moment the house was completely silent, as though shocked by the young man's statement.

"I… I dunno whaddya talkin' bout." He muttered. "Magic shop's two blocks down." He then glanced shiftily at the boy, as though to check if he was buying it. He wasn't buying it. Deciding to try another technique, the man snapped angrily. "Who are ya anyways? Who are ya to be askin' me crazy questions?" He kicked aside a bottle, which shattered as it tumbled down the staircase. He glared fiercely at the young man. There was a lengthy silence as the two men, young and old, stared each other down. Eventually the stone-cold gaze of the old man won out, and the younger lad answered slowly.

"My name is Kei," He said slowly, "I come from somewhere I'm SURE you're familiar with." He stared pointedly at the old man. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The old man winced visibly. "I'm afraid you're not fooling me, old man." Kei paused. "Or should I say, Harry Potter, the… boy… who lived." The man's eyes literally bulged. He started choking, and coughed for a good minute straight.

"Now, tha's a name I never thought I'd hear again." Harry sighed. "I s'pose there's no point in hidin'." He took another long swig of firewhiskey and tossed the empty bottle aside. It shattered on the wall, leaving a brown stain on the already yellowed wallpaper. He sighed again, smiling bitterly. "Yes, I'm Harry Potter. What's it on ya? What's tha gotta do with ya?"

"Well, I was sent by the headmaster…" Kei began, but Harry butt in quickly.

"HeadMASTER? What happened ta ole' McGonagall?" Harry asked, magically producing another bottle of beverage. He saw Kei staring, and raised the bottle. "Want some booze?" He asked again, shaking the bottle.

"Eh, no thanks." Kei kindly declined. "And Professor McGonagall retired a while back." He smiled apologetically. "You need to keep up to date, man."

Harry smiled sadly. "What's the point? I'm a relic - a living fossil from a past age." He took yet another large drink from the bottle, drawing a disappointed sigh from Kei. "A fossil has no business in this time and age." He attempted another swig, only to choke and violently spew the mouthful of booze onto a nearby wall. Kei grimaced.

"Relic or not, you're one of the best wizards to come out of Hogwarts, since You-Know-Who himself. And that makes you a valuable potential teacher at Hogwarts. That's why the headmaster sent me." Kei shrugged. "You're a hero, Harry."

Upon hearing this, Harry laughed an awful racking cackle. "Hero? I'm no hero. Or maybe I was, but not anymore. Heroes come in times of despair, Kei. They are the harbingers of doom. The world now is a peaceful place. It has no place for a hero." Harry stooped his head, a sad smile of resignation on his face. "It's for the best that, like the troubles of old, I am forgotten."

Kei could hardly believe his ears. The champion of this era, sitting before him, hanging his head in such a dejected state. "You are a hero," He insisted. "No matter where you are, when you are. You proved your mettle in the fires of war, and rescued the world from darkness. Nothing but a hero can accomplish such a feat."

"I had help. If anything, they should be the heroes. And heroines. I'm not worth the trouble." He smiled ruefully. "I might as well be born a orphan. I was a hero," He said that with hidden spite. "who relied on friends to help him with everything. I'm no hero." He repeated again.

"Heroes don't come with death. They come to STOP death. Heroes aren't born, they're made. And you are an excellently made hero." Kei jabbed a finger at Harry. "You are a hero."

"Yeah, so?" Harry grumbled. "That doesn't mean I belong. I'm still just a reminder of a past age…" As forlorn as he sounded, Kei couldn't help but notice that Harry was throwing off the effects of alcohol. He no longer mumbled, and Kei saw a twinkle in his originally dull eyes. His iris was regaining the emerald tinge he inherited from his mother, the green slowly resurfacing under the dusty grey.

Kei fought the urge to shout. "You aren't just a reminder. You aren't some note on a calendar, to be read and discarded. You are a beacon. A beacon that shines with light we no longer see today." Kei waved his hands dramatically. "Our students need you to guide them, Harry."

"I… I…" Harry's eyes darted to and fro, his mind whirring. "What am I saying? I'm in no shape to teach." Kei smiled to himself. Harry was looking for excuses. Kei was winning.

"You can get back into shape." Kei suggested.

"YOU need to get into shape." Harry shot back.

"That was insulting."

"You're welcome." Harry grinned crookedly.

"So, you'll teach at Hogwarts?" Kei implored, hopefully.

"Do I get to be headmaster?"

"No." Kei chuckled.

Harry thought for a moment. "100 points from Slytherin in advance, and I'll think about it." Kei snorted.

"Done." They shook hands. "You will receive a letter with the details a few days later."

Kei turned to leave. "Oh, and one last thing." Harry called.

Kei looked back at Harry. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."