Ten o'clock rolled around on the Burrow, and Harry Potter lay wide awake. He had awoken over an hour ago; whether from excitement or something else, he couldn't tell. He knew they must be getting up soon, as they only had an hour until the Hogwarts Express departed. He got up and quickly dressed in casual attire. After checking his and Ginny's belongings were in order he prodded her shoulder gently, "Gin, wake up, sweetheart. We're gonna be late," he whispered.
Ginny stirred and promptly opened her eyes. She had also been awake for some time but had refrained from moving so as not to wake Harry. He had been having nightmares, and tonight had been no exception. While not the huge ordeal that they had been at the time, the mumbling had woken Ginny up a number of times in the night. He didn't even seem to have noticed as he kissed her and smiled. "Good morning," he said.
"Morning," she mumbled, starting to get dressed as well.
Ten minutes later, the couple was making their way downstairs for breakfast. While Ginny was excited to be going back and ending her school career, she would have been hard-pressed to be more so than Harry. He seemed to have gained a great amount of energy the past week, having been preparing his syllabus for his DADA classes almost non-stop. Ginny knew he was nervous about teaching young students; she had no doubt in his ability to perform excellently. It seemed his excitement was contagious, as Ginny and Hermione both relaxed after breakfast, and they all walked to the Ministry car. The car ride was short and quiet. The three of them were still rubbing sleep off their faces as the car pulled over at the parking lot in King's Cross.
Once through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, the scarlet steam engine billowed in front of them. As they slowly walked through the crowd, which was almost completely silent in the presence of their saviour, Harry noticed that a short dark-haired girl, in particular, was trying to get his attention. He furrowed his brow and acknowledged her presence, stepping away from their little group. She started to introduce herself.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter. It's an honour to finally meet you," the girl said. So far, Harry was apprehensive until she said, "let me introduce myself. My name is Alicia O'Riley, and I'm a reporter for The Quibbler." At this last statement, Harry relaxed and smiled at her.
"Hello, Alicia. The pleasure's mine." He smiled sweetly at Alicia, who stared at him wide-eyed for a full minute before shaking her head and continuing, "I would be honoured if you could answer some questions for me, please?" She was clearly nervous, Harry could tell. He thought about it for a moment before answering,
"I'm sorry Alicia, but I really should be boarding the train." He smiled at her crestfallen face. "But I would be delighted to provide you with an interview if you'd like." When she heard this, Alicia was positively shaking with excitement. "Just ask Luna Lovegood to contact me and we'll arrange something," he added with a smile before saying his farewell and following Ginny and the rest to the luggage carriage.
Ginny looked at him with a raised eyebrow and said, "and who might that be, Mr. Potter?"
"Oh, her? That was Alicia O'Riley. She's a reporter for The Quibbler and was asking me for some questions. I told her I'd be glad to give her an interview; but not now," he explained. "I assume she's a friend of Luna's, so she'll probably set it up."
Ginny visibly relaxed at the mention of her friend's magazine and smiled, "Yeah, I heard Luna mention her once or twice. She seems nice."
"Suppose so." Harry shrugged as they stepped into an empty compartment. Hermione excused herself, claiming she had to start her rounds as Head Girl. Grinning at their friend, Harry and Ginny lay on the bench of the compartment and sighed contentedly. They stayed like that for the remainder of the trip, Hermione eventually joining them an hour before their scheduled arrival at Hogsmeade Station. Shortly after that, Harry and Ginny were making their way to the carriages, listening to the booming voice of Hagrid yelling, "Firs' years with me, ter the boats."
When they arrived at the carriages, Harry was appalled that a significant number of students were now able to see the winged horses pulling the carriages. Even Ginny was gaping at them. These students had all witnessed death far earlier in life than should be expected, he realised, and this was living proof of it. He seemed to notice a second year flinch as she looked intently at the creature pulling the carriages. Why she had been able to see it, Harry didn't want to know.
Despite the gloomy atmosphere upon de arrival of the Thestrals, the air of excitement and joy was clear as Harry and Ginny made their way to the Gryffindor table. What they hadn't anticipated, however, was that almost every single student, minus most of Slytherin, was giving both of them a standing ovation. Blushing to the roots of their hair, the sat down beside Neville and Hermione, who were also blushing, as the applause was directed at them too.
When Minerva McGonagall stepped up to the podium, the entire Hall was silent. With a wave of her hand, she beckoned Professor Sprout, new Deputy Headmistress, to lead the frightened-looking first years to the Sorting Ceremony. The song and the sorting that followed went as expected with little trouble. Harry noticed that there were only two new Slytherins that year, and guessed that last year everyone had been sorted in that house. Does the Sorting Hat try to balance the number of students in each House? he wondered.
Professor McGonagall once again made her way to the podium and smiled at the student body, before addressing them, 'Welcome to Hogwarts, and to those returning students, welcome back,' she started, in a fair imitation of Dumbledore. When everyone quieted down again, she spoke 'It is with great pleasure that I can say that the war is now behind us, and classes have been brought back to normality, after the abrupt end of term last May. I'd like to take a moment to salute those that fought bravely and eventually laid down their lives for the return of peace to the Wizarding World,' she bowed her head in silent respect. Her demeanour made it clear that this was a silent salute, and the order was followed to a tee.
"Firstly, I'd like to welcome the new addition to the staff," she said, waving to a stout witch with a pleasant smile and sweet green eyes sitting at the staff table, "Professor O'Brian will be taking the responsibility of Defence Against the Dark Arts for the years four and above." A hushed murmur followed this statement. "What about the younger students?" was probably the question on many minds at that moment. "I know what you're probably thinking. For a second addition to our staff, in what can only be described as the most unusual of situations, for this unusual wizard, I'd like to introduce to you the Professor in charge of years one through three, Professor Harry Potter. Professor, please stand up," she told him.
As Harry stood, a thunderous noise filled the Great Hall, and he thought that one more clapping person might shatter the windows. Ginny, Neville, and Hermione were all sharing looks of confusion, as Harry had not confided in anyone this tiny secret. He nodded at them, indicating that he would explain later, and sat down. After a couple of minutes, enough of the noise had died down that McGonagall could continue.
"Yes, congratulations Professor. I'd like to impress upon you that, while Mr. Potter here is still also a student here, he also holds the position of teacher, with the full power of awarding or removing house points and handing out detentions. I trust he will limit his powers to the classroom, of course," she added, looking at Harry with a stern face. While Harry grinned at her, the rest of the student body seemed to relax and let out low chuckles at the jibe.
"Of course, I remind you that the Forbidden Forest is still, shockingly, strictly forbidden to any and all students without a teacher accompanying them. I hope everyone has a productive and enjoyable year, now that we can finally enjoy some peace for a change." She said the last with a smile as she dismissed them. As the clapping subsided, Harry and Ginny were handed their timetables. Despite Harry only taking three classes that year, a lot of his free periods would be spent teaching the younger students DADA.
Ginny, on the other hand, had taken on four subjects and had much more free time to spare, which she actually regretted having, as she would not be able to spend much of it with Harry. He noticed that tomorrow he only had Potions in the morning, and would be teaching his first class of DADA to first-year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors in the afternoon. A pleasant day to start the year, Harry thought. And with that thought, the four friends, made their way to the common room. Neville and Hermione excused themselves and walked up to their respective dormitories. Harry and Ginny, however, stayed up for an extra hour, discussing their impending studies, until sleep got the better of them and they had to reluctantly retreat to different dormitories.
Harry now stood facing a group of eleven first years, sitting in front of him, staring at him in awe. He thought it was a bit disconcerting at first, but dismissed the thought and started with his first lesson.
"Good morning, class. I am Professor Potter, or Harry Potter, as many of you must know me. I'd like to start by getting to know you and placing names with faces. Who wants to go first?" The introduction part of the lesson lasted just over thirty minutes, in which Harry had hopefully created an amicable atmosphere for the kids. He thought they must be pretty scared right about now, especially those of muggle heritage. He sighed and continued with the plan.
"Alright, now that we know each other a little better, does anyone have any questions for me?" he asked the class. He knew this was a risky move, but he had vowed to himself he wouldn't alienate the students just because he was a teacher. He was, after all, still a student just like them.
A mousy haired Gryffindor that reminded Harry of Neville lifted his hand timidly, and Harry could sympathise with the kid. Shy as he seems, it takes a lot of courage to ask the first question, he decided. He gave his best smile and addressed the student, "Yes, Mr. Pyne, is it?"
"Yes, sir. Er, is it true that you died that night at the Battle in May?" asked the student, before adding, 'I meant no disrespect, sir."
The reason for his correction was Harry's stunned face. He had expected his students to be somewhat curious about his involvement in the war, seeing as he was somewhat of a celebrity now. He had not, however, expected an eleven-year-old to ask such a question, let alone know that information. How had he found out about that? Harry chose his words very carefully before answering.
"Yes, Mr. Pyne, what you are saying is correct," he said sombrely. He decided honesty was a good way to start on the right foot.
All eleven students, Mr. Pyne included, shared looks of disbelief and awe with each other. A Ravenclaw girl raised her hand, exuding a bit more confidence than Mr. Pyne had.
"Yes, Miss. Harriet?" said Harry, wary of the questions that might follow.
"If you don't mind my asking, sir." Harry could tell she was choosing her words carefully and smiled despite himself, "How are you still alive then? I thought coming back from the dead was something that not even magic can do," she added, frowning as she fought to understand.
"Look, kids. I will be honest with you," said Harry, prompting the students to lean forward on their chairs, "The Battle of Hogwarts was a warzone, in every way, and should not be romantised. I know hearing about these great things me and my friends did to end it sounds very cool and heroic. But don't fool yourselves. Voldemort was not playing games with us, and the stakes were high. As to my untimely resurrection, Miss. Harriet, I have a simple answer. I don't know." This, of course, baffled the students, who were expecting some sort of tale about the great Harry Potter defeating and eventually cheating death. "I truly don't know, because it is magic as old as time. And I'm afraid that neither you nor I are very close to getting a complete grasp of the logistics behind the magic that saved me that night, unfortunately so."
"Don't let Voldemort's demise fool you into a sense of security either. That is why DADA is still a subject, and I now have a job." A few chuckles from the students told him he was making headway in the atmosphere department. "I'm also not saying that you should become paranoid of every shadow, but keep something a good friend once told me in mind: Constant vigilance," he added the last smiling, hoping they would lighten up at some humour. When it miraculously worked, Harry clapped his hands together and started with the lesson proper. The rest of the class was a success, as the students listened with rapt attention at what he was saying. He couldn't remember a class so silent, yet so noisy as quills scratched parchment. He took note of this and decided he would start off with a version of the earlier speech in every one of his classes. He ended up awarding 25 points to Gryffindor and 40 to Ravenclaw as their enthusiasm got the better of him, and the kids seemed to enjoy themselves.
As the lesson wound to a close, he noticed the students were conversing with each other about the great class they had just had, causing Harry to swell with pride. This swelling stopped, however, when he noticed a Ravenclaw girl off to the side of the hallway, silently crying into her robes. He felt a pang of sadness and decided to approach the girl.
"Miss. Windsor, is everything alright?" he asked tentatively. He didn't want to pry, but to his surprise, she didn't mind.
"Yeah, I'm fine, sir." Harry knew this was a lie without having to use Legilimency. The girl had straight long blond hair, which flowed down to her lower back. Harry noticed that she was much smaller than her classmates, probably just over four feet tall. A pair of round glasses, much like Harry's, adorned her heart-shaped face. Behind them, however, her green-blue eyes were bloodshot, and fresh tear tracks marked her cheeks. He frowned and knelt beside the crying girl, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Miss. Windsor, would you like to come into my office for a cup of tea? I'm sure your Professor will understand your absence," he asked calmly. When she nodded, Harry indicated Miss. Harriet that she was to inform the Professor of the reason for Miss. Windsor not being there. As the rest of the students disappeared down the corridor, Harry led the crying little girl into the office adjacent to his classroom. It was a simple office, with no decorations, as he wouldn't really use it for much other than in between classes.
He indicated that the girl take a seat and waved his wand wordlessly to charm the kettle to pour two cups of tea. As he took his seat in front of her, he could see her trying to push back the tears and stand up straighter to look at Harry directly into his eyes. He had a surge of respect for her.
"Tell me, Mary." Her eyes widened as Harry used her first name. He wanted to let her know they were on even footing, and he continued, "What is it that's bothering you? I might even be able to help you." He was trying to convey reassurance in his tone.
With a final sniff and a long sigh, Mary explained what was bothering her, "you see, sir, my mum died at the Battle of Hogwarts, and hearing you talk about it sort of brought the memory back. I'm sorry." Harry was appalled, hearing her apologize for mourning her mother. He shook the thought and gave the girl a sad smile.
"First of all, you can call me Harry when we're alone, okay?" She nodded, "Secondly, you should not apologize for feeling what you're feeling. I of all people understand what you're going through. You should be able to mourn your mother, as I know that she must have fought bravely." He heard her sniff, but no further tears were forthcoming. He counted this as a small victory. "I am the one that should be sorry. I'm sorry that my talking about the war made you remember such horrible things, and I will strive to avoid doing so in the coming lessons," he promised, looking her directly in her eyes. She nodded and smiled sadly at him.
"Thank you, sir. I mean, Harry," she corrected herself with a sad smile, "That means a lot to me. It's just hard, you know. My father is also an Auror, and he's always putting himself in danger. Lately, he's been doing it more. I think that's his way to cope," she shrugged and left a stunned Harry looking at her. This girl was talking with the maturity of someone much older, and he felt a pang of regret that that was probably a product of the war.
"I know how you feel. You feel unable to do anything about the people you love," he concluded. Mary nodded her agreement and looked back at Harry. "Believe me, that happened to me more times than I care to count. Yes, you heard me right," he added, seeing the look of disbelief on her face.
"But. You're Harry Potter," she said, more as a statement than a question. He smiled and responded.
"Yes, and you're Mary Windsor. What's your point?' He heard her chuckle as she tried to explain.
"I just didn't know you of all people would feel powerless. You're like the most powerful wizard ever." She cocked her head to the right and looked into the bright green eyes that now adorned a blushing face.
"I wouldn't know about being the most powerful, but even so, I constantly felt powerless to protect those I love, until I learned to admit that some things are just out of our control," he explained, reaching over and placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "If you keep that in mind, you might find that you can cope much more easily." He scrawled a note on a piece of parchment and handed it to her.
"I think you should go and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Go outside and enjoy the warmth before it's gone," he said as she stood and walked to the door. He called back at her and she turned, "And if you ever feel the need to talk about this or about anything for that matter, don't hesitate to come to me. I will only be too happy to help you," he added with a lopsided grin. The beaming smile he got in return made him sigh in relief as he sat back down in his chair. He had had to start on an antidote for a Draught of the Living Dead in Potions that morning, then endured hard questions from enthusiastic eleven-year-olds, and finally had to comfort a small child after having mentioned the very battle her mother had been killed in. He cursed himself for not thinking of that contingency. He knew Mary Windsor would need careful watching over, and he wasn't about to delegate this delicate task to other faculty or students.
