"Hermione?" Harry called, his knees in his hearth again.
"She's not here." Ron's freckly face appeared.
"Ron!" Harry said warmly, and Ron grinned.
"Yeah, you'll have to chat to me. Disappointing, I know, but..."
"Ron, I've got news," Harry burst out. "Malfoy's got a kid."
Ron stared at him for a moment. Then a very happy grin spread across his face. "Really? But he would've had to been born — "
"Yeah, right before the Battle."
"Who d'you think the unlucky mother is?"
"Dunno, but they must've married, he's got the Malfoy surname," Harry mused.
"He? So it's a slimy little Slytherin, then."
"Gryffindor," corrected Harry.
"What?"
"Gryffindor. He was Sorted into Gryffindor."
There was a tiny pause, before Ron rolled around, his eyes tearing up with laughter. Harry couldn't help it, a smile reluctantly tugging at his mouth. Eventually Ron calmed down, wiping at his eyes, still chuckling.
"Wow," he told Harry. "How's that for karma?"
Harry couldn't help but laugh too.
Nevertheless, he tried to take a professional stance. He had his weapon in one hand: the list of students. His first class was a mixed-house group of seventh-years. Harry tried not to be overwhelmed by the sea of faces staring at him. Seventh-years. Easy, Neville had told him. Seventh-years were easy-peasy. Not noisy and lovestruck like sixth-years, who seemed to be permanently embroiled in their little worlds of drama. Not sarcastic and mean like fifth-years, who just wanted to be rebellious smart-arses. Fourth and third-years were alright, they got bored easily and thought it was uncool to be clever, so he'd have to work a bit to get answers out of them. First and second years were the worst. Over-enthusiastic and high expectations. Wanted exciting explosions and colours and loud sounds. Expected to do complicated magic straight away and assumed they were stupid or slow if they didn't get something right the first time. Delicate egos, Neville told him. Their self-esteem changed quicker than the weather.
So here they were, the mature seventh-years. Easy. Easy-peasy, Harry lied to himself.
"I'm Professor Potter," he said. "Your new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher. This term, I plan to have a balance of theory and practical work. The first lesson in the week will be theory, and the second will be practical."
The class seemed unfazed by this, nodding slightly to show their approval of his plans. Harry carried on in a firm, clear voice that covered his nerves.
"I understand that you have, previously, had some lessons in Dark creatures."
This time there was a better reaction, some nodding and calls of agreement.
"Werewolves, sir!"
"Vampires."
"Bogarts, sir, they're the worst."
"Well," Harry said, "What about creatures which are slightly harder to fight off? Does anybody here know what a Lethifold is?"
A ramrod-straight arm shot up. "Please, sir, it's a creature that closely resembles a shadow and kills its victims by suffocating them whilst they are sleeping."
"And what's your name?" he asked her.
"Gwendolyn Thwistle, sir!"
"Also known as teacher's pet," somebody sniggered. Aha, thought Harry. We have our Hermione Granger. He looked at her name, noting her house was Hufflepuff.
"Very good. Ten points to Hufflepuff."
"That's unfair, sir, she gets all the answers right, we don't have a chance!" a Gryffindor called out.
"Alright. Here's a question for you, then, Mr...?"
"Llewellyn."
Harry cast another glance at his paper. George. George Llewellyn. Gryffindor.
"Alright, Llewellyn. How do you repel a Lethifold?"
"Oh, sir! Professor Potter, sir! Professor! Sir!" Gwen's hand waved madly around like an angry flagpole. Harry tried his best to ignore her.
"Uh," Llewellyn mumbled. "Um...with a spell?"
"Yes, and can anybody name the spell?" Harry asked, taking the attention off Llewellyn and allowing him to save face.
"Oh, sir, please, Professor, I know the answer — "
Was Hermione ever that annoying? Harry was certain she didn't constantly call out, at least. To his relief, he spotted a hand timidly rising up, slowly and carefully.
"Yes, up the back there?"
"A Patronus, sir?" the owner of the hand whispered, before drawing back quickly as though expecting Harry to shoot off a curse at them.
"Yes, correct, Miss, er — "
"Viney, sir," somebody else called out. He consulted his list once more. Vivienne Topham-Viney. Slytherin. She had wispy blonde hair and large, apologetic eyes. What on earth was she doing in Slytherin, Harry did not know.
"Miss Viney. Ten points to Slytherin."
She did not look happy at all, retreating far back into her seat and looking as though she was trying to become invisible by sheer will. Harry kindly took the spotlight off her.
"So, a Patronus. Who here can produce a Patronus?"
Three or four hands were raised, Gwen's among them.
"A corporeal Patronus?" Harry pressed on, and Gwen took her hand down with great reluctance. Nobody's hand was up now.
"I hope," Harry said, "that by the end of the term, when I ask that question, every single hand is raised."
They broke into hushed and excited whispers.
Harry exhaled in relief.
Next up, he had the fourth-years. Neville had warned him, echoing McGonagall's words. Be careful with this lot, Harry told himself. Don't let them try any mischief. Don't let them get to you.
"Good morning," Harry said to the sea of faces. "I'm Professor Potter, and I — "
"As in Harry Potter?" somebody called out; a squinty-eyed Slytherin that Harry hated instantly.
"Yes, and I — "
"Did you fight in the Battle, sir?" asked a long-haired Gryffindor girl.
"What was it like?"
"Yeah, did you kill anyone?"
"I'm not here to discuss my personal life," Harry said helplessly.
"Aw, sir, how're we s'posed to learn Defence? You should share your experiences, sir, we'd learn from them," the Slytherin called out, to a chorus of 'go on, sir!' from the rest of the class.
"Look, let's get on with the lesson," Harry said.
"Be a sport, sir, I heard you killed a million Death-Nibblers at once!" a Hufflepuff called out.
"It's Death-Eater, idiot," jeered a Slytherin.
"Language, please," Harry said in his best angry voice, but they just chatted over the top of him.
"You'd know, wouldn't you, I heard your whole family is Dark — "
"Say that to my face!"
"Which one?"
The laughter and jeers erupted and the insulted Slytherin rolled up his sleeves.
"Bring it on, you stupid Gryffindor — "
"Who are you calling stupid? I heard your mum's actually a troll — "
"You tell him, Helen!"
"Get her, Marcus!" — to which Marcus lifted his wand, quick as lightning, and opened his mouth —
There was a sudden whooshing noise, a bright light sizzled briefly, and Marcus's wand was in Harry's hand. The class blinked in amazement.
"Wow, sir, that was dead awesome, sir — "
"I never even saw your wand, Professor — "
"Unfortunately, Williams here," Harry indicated Marcus, "will have to have a theory lesson, as his wand will remain confiscated until the end of my class."
"Sir!"
"And ten points from Slytherin."
"Marcus, you idiot," hissed his fellow students. Helen beamed.
"And ten points from Gryffindor," Harry added. Both houses were quiet now, glaring at each other.
"Good," Harry said. "I see we have achieved silence. Thank you. Please remember that in this classroom, you will only perform magic with my permission. Is that clear?"
"Yeah," they mumbled.
"Good. And now perhaps we can actually begin the lesson."
"Yeah, sir, tell us about you fighting at the Battle," a Gryffindor began.
"Five points from Gryffindor," Harry said.
"Why?" the outraged student demanded.
"One of my rules," Harry replied smoothly. "I will deduct five points for every question asked that is off-topic."
"That's unfair, sir," the Gryffindor mumbled, but without malice and Harry knew he had them under his control now.
"Now, our first lesson: Identifying the side-effects of Dark spells," Harry said, his voice calm.
His heart, however, banged wildly around his chest like a galloping Thestral. It was a wonder teachers didn't all head into early retirement, he thought.
Yesterday had gone well. However, Harry wasn't breaking out the champagne just yet, for today his first lessons involved classes of first and second years, and that meant dealing with an itty bitty Malfoy. Just what he needed. The little toerag looked just like his father — the same pale, pointed face and fine hair, the same cold grey eyes. A right little hellraiser, Harry thought. No doubt full of snide remarks, little sneers and annoying little smirks. The little twerp would need a strict professor, would need to be kept in line and disciplined properly. The ego would need to be deflated as soon as possible.
Yet to his surprise, the first year class was devoid of Scorpius. Instead, he arrived with the mixed-house second year bunch — Ted grinning amongst them, next to Scorpius. Was Scorpius playing some sort of game? Having a bit of fun with that stupid new professor, see how far he'd get? Switching classes? Harry's eyes narrowed.
"Good morning," Harry said coldly to the faces that awaited him. He'd never learn all their names, he was sure. "I am Professor Potter, your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
He paused, but they were silent. He was thankful that Teddy had taken his job seriously, telling Harry he intended to be very professional about it all and didn't expect to be treated any differently. Harry stared at the silent, expectant faces before him — Teddy's nose growing slightly longer for a second — before Harry allowed himself a quick glance at Scorpius. But the boy was silent, neither muttering nor smirking. Harry continued.
"I understand that your last professor, Aberwell, taught you the basics of Dark magic, and how to recognise most Dark spells and potions. However, you are yet to learn of Dark objects and Dark creatures."
Everyone swapped terrified looks. Evidently the world was full of Dark things. A boy eyed his quill forebodingly.
"Of course," Harry went on, "the key thing here is recognising Dark objects and creatures. Spells and potions can be thrown upon you unexpectedly, or can be used stealthily. However, Dark creatures can be easily avoided if you know what you're looking at, and so can Dark objects. We will begin by learning to identify both. Defence is your last option, avoidance is your first."
He suddenly became aware of the light tap-tapping of a quill against a desk. A Slytherin sitting next to Scorpius gave him an annoyed look.
"Malfoy," he said, and the boy jumped. "If you could please desist from making that noise, thank you."
"Sorry, sir. I have attention problems."
A quick glance at the student record told Harry that Scorpius was not lying. There was a small note next to his name: Suspected ADHD. Currently off medicated potions.
"Very well," he said. "However I still ask that you try and focus. Now, the easiest Dark thing to identify is the creature. And whilst I am using the word 'Dark', that is not strictly true. Any creature can be dangerous if it so chooses to. However some creatures are more...inclined to be malevolent towards witches and wizards. For example, Grindylows." He paused. The tap-tapping was back again.
"Malfoy. I have already asked once that you desist."
"Yeah, but sir — "
"I will not ask again. Now, if you open your textbooks to chapter three — Misty Moors and Fetid Fen — we'll read through the first paragraph together. Copsley, you begin."
As the Ravenclaw talked, Harry followed the text but kept glancing at Scorpius. The boy was constantly fidgeting, looking bored and glancing around trying to catch fellow students' eyes. Copsley finished his paragraph and Harry spoke.
"Malfoy, the next paragraph please."
"I don't want to."
"Malfoy, that was not a request."
"I hate reading this shit, it's boring — "
The class gasped; a group of Ravenclaws looked collectively outraged.
"Sir, he swore sir!"
"Sir, he said the S word!"
"I heard him myself, thank you," Harry replied. "Malfoy, I do not want to hear language like that again. It's unnecessary, uncouth, and unwelcome."
"Sorry, sir," Scorpius said. It was impossible to tell whether he meant it. Harry decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"That's alright. Now read out the paragraph, please."
"But sir — "
"Five points from Gryffindor. Now read it out, or you'll receive a detention."
Scorpius frowned, then looked at the page.
"In...the...duck — "
"Dark," Harry corrected, quelling the sniggers around the classroom.
"...Dark...shed-ohs...in the dark shadows...many mall-or-vent..."
"Malevolent."
"...malevolent..." mumbled Scorpius.
Harry stopped him after a long and painful paragraph.
"Thank you, Malfoy. Ten points to Gryffindor."
The outraged Copsley opened his mouth, but Harry beat him to it.
"And ten points to Ravenclaw. Now, can anybody tell me where the Grindylow may be found?"
Later, as the students filed out, Harry sat at his desk and sighed. He didn't know why he had awarded ten points to Scorpius. Well, yes he did. Pity. He couldn't help but feel a stab of pity. Why couldn't Scorpius read properly? He came from a very well-bred, educated and aristocratic family. Harry knew Malfoy would have given his son the best, most prestigious education he could afford. He would want his son to brag and pomp his way around Hogwarts, to impress with his wealth, his good clothes, his aristocratic manners, his cleverness. Yet Scorpius was reading like an eight year old! And he spoke very differently from what Harry had imagined. No smug tone or fancy words, no upper class accent. He spoke frankly, rudely and mumbled with his words. Something was definitely wrong.
Harry frowned.
"Congratulations, Potter, on your first successful month."
"Thanks, professor," Harry replied with embarrassment. He was sitting opposite McGonagall in the staff common room, half-listening to Penelope Clearwater's ranting. She was Professor Clearwater now. She taught Muggle Studies and sometimes filled in for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classes, and Harry found her quite likeable, if a little unprepared for teaching. She was the second youngest professor and had begun at Hogwarts last year. Her past teaching experience had been lecturing to university Muggles, and Harry got the feeling she was used to smart, quiet, mature students who took notes and asked no questions. Not exactly the best qualification for working at Hogwarts, but who was Harry to judge?
"...that ridiculous Malfoy child. What a horrendous little trouble-maker," Penelope was saying. "Do you know what he handed in for his first assignment? A very crude diagram of the male reproductive system. You cannot imagine how distressed I was. I had to give him a week's worth of detentions. And his English is terrible. Mumbling and mispronouncing his way through all the textbooks."
"Maybe he needs some extra tutoring," Harry suggested.
"He does it all for attention," Penelope carried on, ignoring him. "He enjoys showing off to his foolish friends, Teddy and Leo. And just the other day I caught him vandalising a desk. Of course the desk just leapt up and began beating him over the head, but I have absolutely no sympathy. I've already set the second assignment, and if he does it again..."
Harry felt guilty. He had set an assignment for his second-year class just last week. Was Penelope already setting out second assignments? He really needed to get a move on.
"I've got Scorpius handing in his assignment today," Harry said.
"More likely as not, he won't even bother handing it in," Neville joined in. "I'm still waiting for the first assignment — and that was due two weeks ago."
"Nasty piece of work," Penelope nodded. "In any case, I should be dashing off to class." She stood up and left. Harry turned worryingly to Neville.
"I've got my second-year Defence class next, what should I do?"
"Whatever you want. You're the teacher."
"Thanks, Neville," Harry said drily, opening the staffroom door.
"You're welcome."
Harry set off down the corridor, slightly anxious, and entered the classroom, sitting down to wait at his desk whilst his class filed in.
"I hope you have all remembered that your first assignment is due today. When I call your name, please place your assignment on my desk," he called out. "Aaronson."
A Hufflepuff brightly bounded out from behind her desk.
"There you go, sir, I hope it's not too long, I ended up going over the two-feet limit, but honestly there was nothing I could cut out, sir, it was all really important — "
"Thank you, Aaronson. You may return to your seat," Harry said drily. "Atkinson."
A shy Hufflepuff girl sidled up and slowly pushed her roll of parchment on top of Aaronson's, as though afraid the pile would explode.
"Thank you," Harry said, adding a tick next to her name. "Clark."
He went through the register, the ticks adding up beautifully. Not a single assignment missed, until —
"Malfoy."
Scorpius got up, smiling, and handed a piece of parchment to Harry, who read it carefully. It simply listed a lot of obscene and badly misspelt words. Harry got out a red quill.
"Ah, I see you've already got that wrong. The K comes after the C. And this one here, the W should be an R. But you've made a very good effort."
Scorpius grinned at him.
"However, I think you may have got the topic confused. You were supposed to research horrible spells, not horrible words. How about you meet me at my office at six o'clock, so we might go over the topic again?"
"Ah, sir, that's not fair, Leo didn't do the assignment at all — "
"Thanks a lot!" hissed Leo. Harry didn't mind Leo. He was a Gryffindor, quite short and slender. He had black tufty hair and most of the time wore a mischievous little half-smirk, reminding Harry sometimes of Sirius. He wasn't so bad though. Harry was onto him. Leo might play stupid a lot but he knew the right answers and he knew when to stop fooling around. Penelope was under the impression Leo was a bad influence on Scorpius and advised Harry to split them up in class, like she did. However Harry just let them sit together anyway. Honestly, he couldn't be bothered trying to split them up. No doubt both Scorpius and Leo would kick up a fuss about it.
"Sir, I can explain sir, see, my mum, she's really crook — " Leo began.
"Alright, Mancini. I haven't got to your name yet," Harry said mildly, and Leo subsided, glaring at Scorpius.
"What? Not my fault you're stupid," Scorpius said. Leo rolled up his sleeves. Teddy looked anxiously between them.
Harry sighed. It was clearly going to be one of those days.
He'd forgotten about Scorpius's detention, until Scorpius barged straight into his office without knocking. Harry had his feet up on the desk, marking assignments. He was careful not to jump or flinch, remaining seated and calmly underlining sentences.
"Scorpius, I would appreciate it if you could knock. And what's this I hear about you bullying a little first-year kid?"
"We were only having a bit of a joke, sir, you know, just mucking around."
"I don't think the victim found it very amusing," Harry said.
"Well, he just can't take a joke then, can he?"
"Well, would you find it funny if somebody stole your favourite quill and dropped it in a toilet?"
"Yeah," Scorpius sniggered. "Favourite quill, that's just stupid."
"Scorpius, we have a zero tolerance policy on bullying. Professor McGonagall asked me to give you a detention with Grimble tomorrow night."
"Sir, I already got all this shit happening, I gotta try out for quidditch tomorrow — "
"No. Detention. And mind your language."
"Sir, it's not fair, you hate me 'cause I'm in Gryffindor — "
"I was a Gryffindor myself, actually," Harry laughed. "Now could you please hand in your assignment?"
"Nah, I can't sir, I'm stupid. Why don't you write it, sir? You're smarter than me."
"I think you're quite smart, Scorpius."
"Nah, I'm dead stupid. I can't even write properly. Dobbs told me I'm gonna be famous as the only squib in Hogwarts."
"Well, don't listen to Dobbs," Harry said, circling a word on a seventh-year assignment.
"I don't sir, his mum's a troll with a wig on."
Harry had to stifle a laugh. "Don't be unkind."
"It's true, sir."
"You're on thin ice, Scorpius," Harry said, although he was smiling. "How about I make a deal with you?"
"Yeah?" Scorpius was suspicious, his grey eyes narrowed, and Harry was suddenly reminded strongly of Draco.
"When your writing improves, you'll submit any assignments you've missed?"
"Yeah, alright sir," Scorpius said after a moment of thought. "Shake, sir?" He spat on his hand.
"Er, no, thank you. I'll take your word for it."
"Alright, sir."
"Good," Harry said. "I'll see you in class on Tuesday."
Hopefully, he thought. Privately he wondered if Scorpius would survive the rest of the school year.
He talked it over with McGonagall. Scorpius's odd inability to write and read, the deal they struck, Harry's wish to tutor him. He dropped a few hints about wanting to find out exactly why Scorpius was in second year, but McGonagall blithely ignored them, although surprisingly agreed something must be done.
"The boy does need a bit of extra tutelage. I'll schedule an extra class in for him. And Potter?"
"Yes?"
"I'm really quite busy these days."
"Alright," Harry said cautiously, certain something horrible was about to happen.
"I'm too busy to be balancing my Head of House duties with my teaching and headmistress duties."
"Oh."
"I'd like you to take over as Head of Gryffindor House."
"Oh." Harry's face scrunched up unhappily. "I'm not sure I really..." he trailed off as McGonagall glared. "Er...I mean...yes. I'll take on the duties," he mumbled.
"Good. I'll see you on Saturday to discuss what the duties are." She dismissed him with the practiced ease of a professor who has been casually ridding their office of students for years, but he lingered.
"Professor?"
"Yes?"
"I'm just wondering why Scorpius was placed in second year?" Harry asked. McGonagall looked at him for a long moment, then spoke.
"He has already completed first year at another institution."
"He was expelled from Durmstrang last year."
"Expelled!" Harry was amazed. "Whatever for?" The only student he had ever known for being expelled was Hagrid, and that was for apparently opening the Chamber of Secrets. What on earth could Scorpius have done?
"Too much mischief," McGonagall said, looking at him over her spectacles. "One thing after another. It finally escalated when he levitated a student out a third-storey window." She saw Harry open his mouth and quickly went on. "The student was safely retrieved and unharmed but...not the sort of publicity Durmstrang needs, considering their...reputation."
Harry didn't say anything. He was thinking of the kind of wizards who levitate people.
"Don't look like that, Potter," McGonagall sighed. "He was only eleven. Just thought it was a bit of fun."
"So did the Death-Eaters," Harry snapped back, but she just sighed, tapping her wand lightly on the armchair.
"Potter, you must understand Scorpius is not responsible for his father's actions. You mustn't judge him. And besides," McGonagall said, smiling faintly, "I recall that a particular professor once judged you on your father. You must know how unfair and disadvantageous it feels."
Harry couldn't argue with that one. He rapidly changed tack. "What about other students?"
"What about them?" McGonagall asked.
"Their safety, their wellbeing. Did you consider that?"
"Of course, Potter," she snapped in reply. "Our students' safety is our foremost concern. We did take a risk accommodating Scorpius, but he seemed genuinely willing to turn over a fresh leaf — "
"His behaviour seems to indicate otherwise."
"Nonsense," McGonagall said dismissively. "The boy just needs a firm hand, a father figure."
"He already has a father figure," Harry retorted. "And look where it got him."
"Potter," McGonagall said warningly. "It's highly inappropriate to discuss his father's parenting methods. I will not have that sort of scape-goating happening."
"No, professor," mumbled Harry.
"And don't let it get in the way of your teaching," McGonagall added. However her expression softened slightly as she looked at him. "Scorpius tells me you're his favourite professor."
"No, I'm just the one he dislikes the least."
"He tells me he quite enjoys your classes. Says the other teachers don't think he's very funny, they take him very seriously and yell at him a lot. But he says you have a sense of humour."
"See? He just likes me because I'm letting him get away with things," Harry muttered dispassionately.
McGonagall just smiled.