Chapter Two: The New Teacher

Gabrielle

«Have you heard? The new teacher has arrived?»

"Really? Who is it?"

"No one knows!"

"I heard someone say it was an Englishman!"

"Can't be! Why would they hire a brit?"

"Is he hot?"

"I don't know, no one has gotten a good view of him yet. He was not at breakfast, lunch or dinner the entire weekend!"

Gabrielle sighed. All around her, her classmates were gossiping like crazy about this mysterious new teacher. They had known the additional class was coming since term started, but from what she had heard, there had been issues finding a suitable teacher. She did wonder why they had gotten an Englishman, when there was a lot of great wizards and witches in France. As she twirled the spoon around her soup bowl, the twittering conversations and theories about mysterious new teacher continued. She had received a new time plan this morning with the Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts added to her timetable.

On the plus side, with the teacher being English, they would all get some practice in the language, outside English class. She had found it weird that English was even taught at Bauxbatons, since it had absolutely nothing to do with magic, but it made sense since it was the language most often used in international affairs. She finished her soup, and got up to leave. Ella and Sophie stood with her. They had been besties since her first year. Back then, she had been teased for looking like a little girl. One of the drawback/blessings of being part Veela was a severely prolonged youth. She had stayed pretty much the same from she was nine until puberty hit her smack in the face with full force. Over the summer she had develop a more womanly shape, and as soon as she got tits, she started getting attention from the boys who had teaser her.

Her sudden popularity with the boys had been exhausting. She did not want them drooling all over her, and she certainly did not need the cold treatment and whispers that followed her from the insecure girls who saw her as some sort of man-stealing prima donna. But Sophie and Ella had stayed at her side through it all, never stabbing her in the back like so many of her other friends had done at the first chance.

They made their way to the third floor of the West Vestibule a bit early. She had to admit that while she didn't care much for the gossiping and speculations, she was curious about the new teacher too. They entered the designated classroom, pausing for a moment at the door. It was far larger than most of their other classrooms, with a wide open space at the back of the room. The room was deserted when they entered, and they decided on seats in the front, so they would be better able to see the mysterious newcomer to their school. As the minutes passed, her classmates started trickling in, an eager murmur rising as they all speculated on what they would be taught.

When the bell rang, they all quieted down expectantly. A minute passed, then another. Almost five minutes into the class, and no teacher in sight. People started getting impatient, wondering if there had been some mistake. Just as a boy from the Green Wing dormitories got up from his desk to leave, muttering about wasting his time, the door to the Professor's office flew open with a loud thud as it swung all the way on its hinges and slammed into the wall. A man sprinted into the room, looking a bit flustered as he stopped at the teacher's desk and caught his breath. He had a mane of unkempt black hair and captivating emerald green eyes. He was dressed in jeans, with a blazer open over a crimson t-shirt. He was a handsome man, no doubt about it, but he was so young. Her entire class looked at him captivated.

Gabrielle found herself blushing, her cheeks growing hot, and she was sure they sported a spectacular shade of deep red. Her entire body felt like she was melting and floating at the same time, as she stared open mouthed at her new teacher. No other than the man she had been madly in love with for years, eversince her second year at Beauxbatons, when her sister had been their champion in the Triwizard Tournament, and he had saved her. Her new teacher was Harry Freaking! Potter!

Harry

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN! He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind as he sprinted through the unfamiliar corridors. He had felt a pressing need to relieve his bladder before his first class ever as a teacher, and had managed to get lost along the way. And of course, Harry being Harry, he had left the magnificent map Professor LeClair hadmade him on his desk. Where else would it possibly be of more used to him? His pocket? Of course not. That would be too easy.

So now he was running like a headless chicken, desperately searching for anything familiar and drawing stares from any students he passed. What a sight he would make. The new teacher, the famous Harry Potter. Navigating his way around the God-forsaken British countryside for months, hunting horcruxes, breaking into banks, stealing dragons and fighting dark wizards, defeated by a set of French corridors. He stole nervous glances at his watch, seeing his class had already started. "Bloody hell!" He growled in frustration, before spinning around, seeing a confused and amused looking student that carried a silver pin on the breast of his uniform. It reminded him of the Prefect badges at Hogwarts, and he vaguely remembered that there was a similar system in place here.

"You!" He said pointing. "Where is my office?"

The confused prefect managed to stop himself from laughing out loudly, but could not stop the throaty chuckle. He obviously didn't trust himself to open his mouth, but he pointed to a spot behind Harry. He turned, recognizing a particular vase he had knocked over two days before on his way back from dinner with Madame Maxime. He had ran right past the semi-hidden entrance to his office, in his panicked search for it.

"Aye, cheers mate!" He said, setting a punishing pace for the door. He said the password, the door swung open and he sprinted up the stairs. As the door swung shut behind him, he could hear the prefect burst into laugh. He burst like a bat out of hell from his office, into a full classroom. Stopping at his desk to catch his breath for a moment, he finally stood straight and looked out on the small sea of faces staring at him. The room was utterly silent, after the booming bang of the office door ramming the wall behind it.

"Uhm. Hey." He said, hesitantly. He caught himself, took a deep breath, and channeled his inner Hermione. Keep calm Harry. You can do this. "Welcome to Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Harry Potter, and I'll be your Professor for this subject. I am sorry I'm late for my own class, but I assure you it will not happen again. Now, let us begin!"

All in all, the class went pretty well, despite his somewhat unconventional start. He had handed out the book required for his class, before explain to his awestruck class the purpose and expectation of the newly introduced subject. He had been a little thrown off when he recognized Gabrielle Delacour in the front row, her cheeks burning hot red, and refusing to meet his eyes, while seeming unable to keep them off him when she thought he was not looking. That more than anything else convinced him utterly just how big a blunder he had made. She was so embarrassed on his behalf that she hardly knew what to do with herself, the poor girl.

He had demonstrated the usefulness of a well aimed stunning spell, by the simple expedience of asking for volunteers, before dropping them to the floor with a flick of his wrist. He noted with a flinch that a mat or pillows would be a goodinvestment the next time he needed the demonstration. His volunteer had smacked his forehead on the floor when the spell struck him. Luckily, there was no blood and no bruise, but it had sent the class roaring with laughter.

At the end of the class he asked if they had any questions relevant to the class, but they seemed to be a little startled by his presence, and there were few who asked anything. When he had looked at Gabrielle, she had looked away so fast he was surprised the girl hadn't earned herself a whiplash. Before dismissing the class, he did something he had never done before, and assigned his very first homework. He had told them to reach the texts relevant to shielding and stunning, telling them they would get to practice them next time.

As the class trooped out of the room, Harry collapsed into his chair. "Well, that could have gone better. But not bad, Potter. Not bad." He muttered to himself. He had two other classes that day that, that luckily went far better than his opening act. At lunch there had been a few snickers in his direction, but he did his best not to let it bother him. No doubt, the whole school would know about his morning before the sun went down.

At dinner in the evening, he was seated next to Professor LeClair, who managed to wait until he was halfway through his plate before looking him dead in the eyes and asking, "So… Hectic morning?" with a smile tugging on her lips. Harry groaned as he put down his fork.

"So you heard?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes. One of my honor students had quite the tale to tell this morning. Apparently, a strangely dressed Professor, running through the hallways looking like a lost puppy. I'mhappy to say he could be of help, and pointed the professor in question to the right place. Lucky for you our prefects are trusted with knowledge of all Professor's private entryways." She said, smiling sweetly at him.

"Yeah. Lucky."

"I almost feel offended that you did not think to use my gift." She noted, her eyes sparking with mirth.

"Yeah. I would have, had my scatterbrained self not left it at my desk when nature called." He noted sarcastically. That made her laugh, her laughter like a clear bell.

"Oh my. How forgetful." She commented.

"Yeah. Well, at least I made an impression."

"Oh, I dare say you did at that." She chuckled. "So, besides your dramatic start, how was your first day?"

"Truthfully? Terrifying. I was so nervous about screwing up that I found it hard to focus properly. But I think it went well, all things considered. I think my students are a bit nervous around me thou." He said, picking up his fork again and resuming the consuming.

"Don't worry. I was the same my first day. Kept fumbling my notes, stuttered a bit. It's normal. I did make it to class on time however." She smiled at the friendly dig at him. "As for your students, can you blame them? This is France, but we all know about Harry Potter. They will grow used to having you around soon enough. Assign a few long papers as homework, and they will curse your name just as much as ours."

The rest of dinner was a pleasant affair. He had met the teachers over the past two days, but he knew few of them by name. They were all eager to help him, and were great sources of advise on how to perform his new job. The only one of his colleagues, besides LeClair, that he had talked to at length was the Potions Master. After years of Snape's less than fair treatment of him, Harry had become weary of the position, but René Artoise was a stellar opposite to Snape. He was jovial, friendly, and quick with a smile.

When he showed up to dinner a little late, he took the seat besides Harry, opposite LeClair, and let out a long sigh.

"Aaah. 'Ad a first-year manage to brew a concoction that somehow covered ze entire lab in black smoke so thick you could swim in eet. Took a while to get everyzhing cleaned up." Professor Artoise said as way of explaining his tardiness. "I almost suspect someone switched 'ees Blackroot powder with Peruvian Vanishing powder. Ah! Magnifique! Halibut!" he said as he served himself. He was a bit older than Harry, in his mid-thirties, with short curly brown hair, and kind chocolate brown eyes. He had a small scar over his left eyebrow, the result of a failed potion experiment in his final year.

"So, 'ave we made fun of our new friend for his display zismorning yet?" He asked jovially as he took a bite and closed his eyes in delight.

"Oui. First thing." LeClair chuckled.

"Good. And made 'im feel better?" René asked with a smile.

"Of course."

"Good. Good. I wish I could 'ave seen eet." The Potions Master laughed. "Good show. My first day, I tripped over a cauldron. 'Appens to ze best of us."

"I'm just glad my class is only mandatory for years five to seven. I honestly don't know how you manage it all." Harry said as he washed his meal down with a cup of a rich Bordeaux wine.

"Eet comes with practice, as everzhing else."

They talked amicably for a while, sharing a few laughs at Harry's expense, and discussing their plans for the holidays. Artoise was spending it at Bauxbatons, taking his turn chaperoning the students that were staying behind at school over Christmas. LeClair had been invited to stay with her sister, and was excited to spend some time with her nieces. As they talked, Harry felt a small prickling at the back of his neck, as if being watched. He straightened in his chair and let his gaze wander over the assembled student body, busily eating. At a table on his right hand side, near the doors, Gabrielle was looking right at him. As he met her eyes, she blushed and looked away.

Still embarrassed by my performance Harry thought as he dived back into the conversation, telling them about his plans to visit with the Weasley's. It had become tradition, after all, and Molly had made sure to let him know he was expected, come hell or high waters.

Gabrielle

What the hell is wrong with me?! Gabrielle cursed at herself inwardly as Harry's eyes found her across the room. She had been staring again, and he had caught her red handed. She quickly looked down, concentrating hard on her dinner and trying to fight the blush creeping up on her cheeks. She had thought that her crush on his was over, finally. She had given up on anything ever happening between them, but as soon as she had seen him, it all came rushing back with a vengeance. He had been in her thoughts all day. Why did it have to be HIM?

She finished her food as quick as she could without breaking proper etiquette, and left for her wing's common room. She found her favorite chair by the window and sank into it like a sack of potatoes, closing her eyes as she tried to make sense of her feelings. This wasn't like before. She had understood her crush on him, more or less. He was handsome, and brave and kind. And he had saved her life. But this, this felt so much…more. Whenever she saw him, she felt like she was burning up inside, and it sent butterflies raging through her. She had trouble focusing, and seemed to be unable to look away from him.

"Gabby? Are you feeling alright?" Sophie said worriedly. Sophie and Ella had entered the room without her even noticing, and taken their customary places next to her. "You have been acting strange all day. Are you sick? Should we go to Healer Ivorie?"

"Is it not obvious?" Ella said with a smirk, her eyes glittering with mirth.

"What is obvious?" Sophie asked.

"That our Gabby is hot for teacher." Ella stated with a trace of humor in her tone.

"Shut up!" Gabrielle blurted out, looking around the room, but the only other people there were playing chess by the fireplace, and looked utterly consumed by their game.

"So it's true? You fancy the Englishman? I mean, he is not bad looking, and he IS famous, but there are plenty of prettier boys at school than him." Sophie said.

"Sophie, are you dense?" Ella said rolling her eyes. "Remember our second year? The triwizard tournament? The dashing young man who saved her?" Sophie's eyes went wide as she realized.

"Oh, right! I forgot! That was him! That's the boy you got a crush on? You said it was some boy you met at Hogwarts! Not that it was Harry Potter!"

"Remember how she would go on and on about him?" Ella said with a laugh. "'Oh, he is so handsome! He is so brave and strong, and kind, and gentle, and I wanna marry him and have his babies and live happily ever after'" Ella's imitation of Gabrielle's voice was fairly good, if very exaggerated.

"I never said the last parts!" She protested to the laughter of her two friends.

"Oh, honey. We could read between the lines." Ella said, putting her hand on Gabrielle's thigh, patting it reassuringly.

"I'm sorry Gabby. I should not mock. It's just a little funny to see the ice queen melted at last."

"I'm not melted!" She said, her words feeling like a lie as they left her lips. With a sigh and a moan she continued. "That's a lie. I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me."

Harry

The next few days went well. After his introduction of the class to each new group, he started evaluating their skills. He quickly found that most of them had excellent theoretical knowledge, but lacked practice with using the spells. He had them practice taking turns against the dummies, giving them an easy entry into parrying spells, and practicing disarming. By the end of his first week as a teacher, barely half his students had sufficient skills to go an entire set against the dummies without taking a single hit.

He had noticed a few students struggling a bit, and after talking to Madame Maxime, he set up an extra volunteer class for Saturdays for those who needed the practice. She had been pleased at his enthusiasm, and his willingness to put in a little extra effort to make sure all his students could reach the same level as their classmates.

Surprisingly enough, Gabrielle Delacour was one of the students he felt needed a little extra practice. She was a brilliant witch, according to both LeClair and Artoise, who spoke of her in glowing terms. But for some reason, she seemed unfocused in his classes, frequently taking hits from the dummies, when her parries failed, or she wasn't quick enough with her wand work. After a particularly bad session on Wednesday his second week, he asked her to stay behind after class.

As the rest of her classmates trooped out of the room, two girls lingered behind a little to give her some uplifting words, while Gabrielle stayed seated at her desk. She looked down, a blush threatening to spill into a full, lush red on her cheeks. She can't still be bothered by my first day, can she? He asked himself as he took a deep breath. He walked over and took a seat on the desk in front of hers, facing her.

"Miss Delacour," he started, clearing his throat a little. She lifted her head to look at him, but quickly looked down again. "I can't help but notice that you are lagging a little behind. It'sas if you are having difficulty concentrating in my classes. I have been reassured that you are an excellent student, so I have to wonder if I am the problem…" She looked up at him in shock at his words. "Now, If I have done or said anything that have offended you, or made you uncomfortable, I am sorry."

"Non! You are a good teacher, Professeur Potter. I just…. Struggle a bit." She said, finally looking him in the eyes. "I will do better, I promise."

"All we can do is try. I am putting together extra classes on Saturdays, for those who need a little extra practice. Now, it isn't mandatory, but I would like you to attend. Anyone can master pretty much anything with enough will, practice and effort."

"I… Oui… I will be zhere." She said quickly.

"Excellent. Now, off you go. I am sure your friends are waiting outside for you." He said with a smile as he dismissed her. The petite silvery-blonde got up, and almost rushed from the classroom. He sighed again, something he found he did more and more as he settled into teaching. Had it not been for Neville, he knew he would have had a much harder time doing all of this, but his friend had made him be patient, and to try to instill confidence in his students.

That evening he sat down to write a few letters. He wrote Hermione to tell about the school and the differences between Bauxbatons and Hogwarts he had observed so far, and asked her if she had any recommendations for future classes. She might not be a teacher, but few people had taught him more over the years. In his letter to Ron, Harry decided to make his friend a bit jealous by describing the wide, varied and exquisite cuisine the school offered, knowing that was something Ron truly missed about school, if nothing else.

He wrote Ginny as well, and told her he was looking forward to seeing her over the holidays. He wrote a letter to Hagrid, sending with it a bottle of some fine cognac he had won from Artoise playing a form of card game he still had no idea how to play. To call it beginner's luck would be putting it mildly. Last, he wrote to Headmistress McGonagall, informing her of his progress and thanking her for helping him. He sent a fine selection of chocolate confections.

One brilliant part of being a teacher at Bauxbatons was that he only needed to place his outgoing mail on a tray labeled 'Out', and it would be sent to the Owlery within a few minutes, where it would be dispatched with an owl, thus sparing him having to do it himself. Rank truly had a few upsides. He considered taking a stroll through the gardens to get some fresh air. The weather was turning colder now, with winter fast approaching, but Southern France was a hell of a lot warmer than the Scottish Highlands, even this late in the year. On impulse, he grabbed one of the spell books he had brought from Grimmaulds Place, in case he got the urge to do some light reading. With a chuckle, he realized he was reminding himself of Hermione.

Gabrielle

It had been so humiliating to tell her friends that she was taking extra classes for Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ella had laughed and winked at her, asking if she had flunked on purpose to get more time with Harry. She didn'tknow what to do anymore. She had never failed a single class in her entire life, and now, just because the teacher made her tingle all over, she was so bad she needed special tutoring.

Special tutoring… I wonder just how special it could be… she thought to herself, feeling the all too familiar burning inside her. STOP THAT! She screamed at herself internally. Focus you silly girl! You do not need to fail more classes! She renewed her efforts in turning her teacup invisible.

When the bell rung, she headed for the main doors. The day was beautiful, and quite warm for this time of year. Sophie had suggested they took the chance to do some homework at their spot in the gardens, before the weather got too cold. Sophie had even packed some snacks, and Ella had gotten afew bottles of wine from somewhere. While a glass of wine was allowed to upper classmen for dinner, students in general were discouraged from partaking too much.

The gardens were still beautiful this late into autumn, but many of the leaves had already fallen, making the grounds look like a blanket of brown-yellow shades. When they rounded the Hedges surrounding the fountain-statue of Madame Beuxan, a witch from the middle ages, famed for attempting to reach the moon on her broom, they saw that there was an occupant on one of the benches.

Right there, in one of the benches was none other than Professor Potter, laying with one arm supporting his head on the armrest, his right foot dangling lazily over the side. In his other hand, he held a book, using his thumb and forefinger to turn pages at a lazily rate. Gabrielle stopped dead at the sight. No,no,no,no no! she thought to herself, desperately looking for the closest place to hide, as Ella smacked into her from behind, not having noticed her friend stopping.

"Ouch! Why the fuck are you stopping without warning?" Ella said sourly. Her frown changed to a smirk as she saw the man on the bench. "Oh. That's why."

Professor Potter had sat upright at the commotion, his wand out and pointed at them, before he saw who they were and lowered it with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. Old habits and all that." He said as he put away his wand.

"Old 'abits?" Ella replied in English, looking amused. She had already opened, and almost drained, a bottle already. "You 'ave ze 'abit of drawing your wand at schoolgirls? On my." She giggled a little and added in French. "You just might have a chance with him if that is the case, Gabby." With a devious wink.

Gabrielle wanted for nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow her whole, right that instant. Harry on the other hand chuckled a little, the sound doing strange things to her.

"Not exactly, but when you have been through what I have, being ready for an attack keeps you alive." His voice took on a deeper, raspier character, as if he were imitating someone. "Constant Vigilance!" he said bitterly.

"What?" Ella looked confused.

"Just something an old teacher of mine used to say." He was silent for a moment, before smiling at them.

"But I see I'm not the only one that wanted to do some outdoors reading… Or was it drinking?" he said smiling, gesturing for the basket containing the snacks and wine, not to mention the bottle in Ella's hand. Even Ella stiffened a bit at that. Drinking on school grounds, outside of dinner was against school regulations, and could be punishable by detention.

"Proffeseur, I can explain-" she started, but Professor Potter just waved her off.

"No need. I didn't see you. I'll just wander a bit and try to wrap my head around some of these concepts. Have a good day, ladies." He said as he picked up his book and walked down the path, nose buried in his book.

"Wow. Your boyfriend is cool, Gabby. I thought I would be scrubbing the hall of mirrors by hand, for sure."

"He's not my boyfriend." She muttered as she took a seat on the recently vacated bench and fished up her charms book, throwing herself into studying to calm her racing heart.