Title: Ink

Chapter 10: The Start of Term

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Nothing, really.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: From here on, things will start to fall into place as far as the storyline goes. The chapters before this were more or less an introduction, to set the scene. I still plan on keeping the story relatively slow moving, but there will be less filler scenes and more important plot scenes.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

I capitalized 'House' anytime I was referring to the four Houses- I don't know if this is considered normal or common in Harry Potter fanfiction, but I think it looks better.

Previously on Ink:

Unfortunately, neither of the two had any guesses as to why the book was blank; or, at least, they did not write about it. With the promise that they both would see Harry the upcoming weekend, though, Harry had hopes that they would figure it out together.

The day was finally here.

It was an ordinary day, as far as weather went; the sky was littered with large, fluffy clouds and the air was pleasantly cool. The day in the minds of the Hogwarts teachers, however, was not as simple and easygoing. Today was the first day of term. This day saw the students' entry into the castle, both old and new. Classes would start on the next weekday, and teachers would be off on a train they could not leave until the end of the year. Some greeted this expectation with an easy smile, as they had no reason to worry; they were comfortable in their position and would usher the students with open arms. Others were not as enthusiastic.

Harry found himself somewhere in the middle in that aspect. He was ultimately more excited than anything, but he did feel nervous to be in front of his students so soon (even though he had been anticipating this date for ages), and felt more than a little disappointed with his findings on Peverell. Lack thereof, Harry corrected himself, Lack of findings. I'm so close, yet so far away from the answer.

The upcoming weekend would find Harry in Hogsmeade with his two friends to solve the mystery, so he did not worry too much about the book. He made an effort to polish his lesson plans for the upcoming weeks, and examined his classroom from every angle to improve its atmosphere as much as possible; this way, he was using his time properly, instead of obsessing over the blank book resting upon his coffee table.

The morning quickly transitioned into afternoon, and Harry could almost feel the castle bracing herself for the flow of students. Upon his strolls through the castle's corridors, Harry saw many teachers hurrying through the hallways, finishing the last of their agendas before their time would be whisked away by the children. Harry tried his best to stay calm throughout the time he spent before the feast, as he did not want to stress himself. To him, calm was a better way to prepare than to run around frantically.

After what felt like a blink of an eye, it was time to head to the feast. Harry put on his nicest robes with a tie underneath, and combed his hair (not that it made any difference). He wore his shiniest shoes and his teeth were brushed twice. Feeling as ready as ever, the ink-haired professor exited his rooms and headed to the Great Hall.

Stepping through the threshold of the giant oak doors, Harry was thrown into a memory he would never forget. He, as an eleven-year-old boy, only recently introduced into the incredible world of magic, walked through that same threshold for the first time, and it was awe-inspiring. The walls of stone were tall and mighty, littered with giant sconces full of flames. Tapestries of red, green, yellow and blue, the size of giant bedspreads, hung from the ceiling that reflected the starry night sky. Four long tables with glinting gold plates and shiny silver cutlery were placed through the room, parallel to eachother but perpendicular to the large table in the front of the hall. In front of that table lay a throne-like chair, adorned with sparkling gems and fancy upholstery. It was beautiful, and it was surprisingly real.

The hall was the same as it always was for the Start of Term Feast, and for that Harry was thankful; he could once again enjoy the feeling of returning home.

Harry seated himself in the traditional position for the Defense Against the Dark arts teacher. There was no official, strict rule to sit in a specific spot, but the professors had their traditions when it came to seats at the Head Table. Harry did not mind. He sat between Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, which did not bother him a bit.

The teachers chatted amongst themselves as the time drew nearer until the students would come. It was not long before the older students, second year and up, entered through the great double doors of the hall and sat at their respective tables. Many were talking loudly and excitedly to their friends, catching up from their break away from each other; others looked very tired from the long train ride.

Harry heard Sprout mutter, "And we're off," and he thought that was a good way to put it. The next term would be like a fast paced race, with a whirl of movement around a track that seems never ending. Harry was up to the task, though.

Shortly after the students got comfortable, McGonagall was sent to fetch the first year students- the terrified, anxious students, many who had no idea what was going to happen. Harry knew exactly how they felt.

They filed in, two by two, and they looked as if they were marching to their death. They would soon realize the outcome was much more enjoyable, Harry knew. They would laugh at their reactions to the Sorting Ceremony, how silly they were to think they might be kicked out, or that they would have to prove themselves to get in.

The Sorting Hat sat in front of the group of nervous first years, the only visible obstacle between the new students and their House. It appeared to be surveying the young boys and girls, and Harry wondered if it was able to truly think, or if it was simply able to follow certain commands, like a computer.

As the chattering quieted down throughout the room, the old hat opened its tattered "mouth" and began to sing.

It was a relatively happy song this year, with only a few suggestions of darkness in the wizarding world. Harry supposed it was because the last couple years had truly been quiet, as far as Voldemort was concerned. Harry guessed the Hat got most of its information from Dumbledore, and as Dumbledore had not been actively pursuing the Dark Lord himself, the Hat would find no reason to alarm the students.

Once the lengthy song was over and the Hat was silent, Minerva began calling the students to the stool, one by one. Harry guessed that there were about fifty students to be sorted, which was more than his graduating class.

They were sorted rather evenly, Harry noted, though Slytherin and Ravenclaw received a few more students than Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Voldemort will be pleased, Harry thought with a smirk. He has more minions to choose from now.

The ceremony went rather quickly, from what Harry could tell, or maybe he just was not paying attention as much. Either way, the students were sorted and it was time for Headmaster Dumbledore to say his piece.

"Good evening," Dumbledore started, "And welcome to the 1998 term at Hogwarts. For the new students, welcome, and for the returning students, welcome back." He paused and surveyed his pupils. "This year will be a prosperous one, if that is up to me. We will work together to have the simplest, finest year without any knots to smooth over." He went on for a while about rules and regulations before gesturing to his staff.

"These fine wizards and witches you see in front of you will be guiding you through your magical journey, so I suggest you treat them with the utmost respect, as they will surely do to you." He looked at his teachers when he said this, to many eye rolls in response. "We have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year, and that is Professor Potter." He gestured to Harry, who waved to the audience. He received a relatively large applause, though many were also talking to their friends at the mention of him.

"And with that, let us enjoy our Start of Term Feast. Enjoy."

In the blink of an eye, food appeared onto the tables of each House and the staff table. There were gasps and expressions of excitement, for the feast was one to look forward to every year. Harry's mouth watered at all of the choices set in front of him, and filled his plate until it was overflowing. He noticed his neighbors doing the same, so he did not feel remorse for taking so much.

The meal was enjoyable, with good company and no problems of any sort. The students ate and chatted with their friends, and everyone seemed happy. Harry knew that classes would start the next day, since tomorrow was Wednesday, so the large amounts of food would help the children fall asleep quickly. He remembered many years where he felt as if he barely made it to his bed before falling asleep, with the filling food he had eaten from the feast. Harry hoped it would be the same this time.

Before long, the students were ushered to their common rooms by Prefects, and teachers began to leave to their own rooms. As Harry got ready to leave, himself, Albus approached him.

"Harry, my boy," Albus greeted him, "How are you faring? I'm afraid I have been rather busy in the past few days, and I have not spoken to you."

"I'm doing well," Harry answered, "Everything's great."

"Good, good!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "If you have time before the end of the week, I would very much like it if you stopped by my office for a cup of tea."

Harry agreed, and bid the headmaster goodbye. Albus, of course, let him go with a smile, as he knew the week would be taxing on Harry, even though it was not a full week.

As he walked out of the Great Hall, he saw a splash of bright red hair to his left, and smiled as he saw Ginny Weasley approaching him. He had not seen her since his birthday party, and quite honestly had forgotten he would see her at school.

"Hey, professor," Ginny greeted him with a grin.

"Hey, Gin," Harry returned with a matching grin. "How was the train ride?"

"Oh, you know, same old." Ginny flicked some hair over her shoulders and started walking, Harry next to her. "No Malfoy this year, so it was quieter, but there were still some wankers to deal with."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose they never go away, do they?"

Ginny shook her head. "And you'll see all of them throughout the term. How's the classroom? Anything exciting in there?"

"I've found a few things to put in there, but not as much as I want… maybe you'll have to help me find some more things to add." Ginny had a good eye for items to light up a room.

"Yeah, we could go look for stuff at Hogsmeade – it could be a date." Ginny winked at him. They had both shrugged off the small infatuation they had for each other, and they were happy to be friends; though, of course, a joke or two about it was not inappropriate for either of them.

"Sounds smashing," Harry told her, "But I have to get some sleep. Professor stuff to do tomorrow, you know." At that, Harry and Ginny said goodnight and parted ways – Ginny to Gryffindor common room and Harry to his rooms. It was a quick walk back, and when he got there he went to sleep right away, slumber taking only seconds to achieve after his head reached his pillow.

The next day came very quickly for Harry. The brunet woke up an hour before breakfast started, and he felt as awake as ever. He supposed it was because of the excitement he felt; he could not stay asleep longer than he had to. He took his time showering and dressing, making sure that his appearance was adequate- he wanted to make a good first impression as a teacher. He then headed to the Great Hall, taking his time, since he would most likely be one of the first to arrive.

There were a handful of students and a few teachers already there, though they all looked rather tired. Harry chose the same seat he had the night before, choosing a filling and mostly nutritious breakfast. He did not want to be hungry in the middle of his classes. It did not take long for the rest of the students and teachers to enter the hall, and by 7:15 nearly everyone was seated and eating (1). Professor Sinistra and Hagrid sat next to him, though Sinistra was rather drowsy and silent. Hagrid had much to say, though.

"Excited for the first day?" He asked Harry.

"Yes," Harry answered, cutting a piece of sausage, "Though I'm a little nervous."

Hagrid chuckled. "I'd be surprised if you weren't, Harry. Don't worry; the kids'll love you. You're interesting, and you're Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake!"

Hagrid had a point. The students would know who he was, and many would find it interesting to be taught from the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry could see the four heads of House handing schedules out to their students. Harry had received his schedule a couple days previous. He had classes every day of the week, though not all classes had Defense every day. The seventh years did, and the sixth years had class every day except Wednesday; the first and second years had class Tuesday and Thursday, and the third and fourth years had it Monday, Wednesday and Friday; fifth years had it Wednesday, Thursday and Friday (2). Overall it was not a bad schedule, though slightly busy; Harry knew he would enjoy it, though.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a multitude of owls flying into the Great Hall. He heard many gasps, and shouts of excitement. Harry figured the first day of classes was one of the busiest days for owl post, as many parents sent forgotten items and care packages, as well as letters and occasionally howlers. There were the owls from the Daily Prophet, too, to add into the mix.

There must have been at least two hundred owls flying around the large hall, looking for the recipient of their burden. Harry's musings were cut short at the sight of a large bird, certainly not an owl, swooping through the flock. To his confusion, the animal was flying straight toward him.

I'm not expecting anything, Harry thought to himself. Maybe it's for a teacher near me.

It was not. The bird swooped to him and landed on his shoulder, its strong talons gripping him in an assertive and dominating manner. Harry slowly turned his head to examine the thing.

It was a beautiful dark brown with black tipped feathers, and its eyes were a dazzling gold. It was the size of at least three owls put together, and it was quite muscular. It had a letter tied to its leg, H. Potter written on the front of it.

"Blimey, Harry, that's a huge bird you've got there," Hagrid exclaimed from his right.

Harry made a noise between agreement and exasperation. He always had to be the one who was involved in strange things. Why use a normal owl, when there were beasts like these practically made for me? Harry thought to himself sarcastically.

Harry slowly reached for the letter, not wanting to make any sudden moves. Once the letter was free from the beast, the brunet fed the bird a large piece of his bacon, not wanting to upset it. The bird emitted a low noise from its beak, which Harry assumed meant some sort of approval, and it took off into the air, pushing from Harry's shoulder.

Harry watched the beast go before gazing around the room; he realized he had the attention of most of the students. Some were even pointing at him.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Just a day in the life of Harry Potter," he said to himself and Hagrid.

The ink-haired man then brought his attention back to the letter the beast had brought him. He did not recognize the handwriting, but the ink looked rather expensive. It was in emerald green, almost the color of his eyes, he noted.

Opening the thick parchment, he was greeted with the same green ink, but it was in a different sort of writing, Harry could not quite explain it.

The contents read:

Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you have settled into your new job with ease. Do not worry about my writing to you, as no one else can read this but us- unless there is another person at Hogwarts who can read written Parseltongue, though I highly doubt that is possible.

At this point, Harry realized that he was reading a letter from the Dark Lord. He supposed he could have guessed, as no one else would have a bird so obnoxious.

I would like to meet with you this coming Sunday at the Three Broomsticks to discuss a few things, both from your side and mine. We will not stay there, but that is an easy place to seek out a person. Send me back a reply with the time. I will not take no as an answer.

-T.

Harry's eyebrows rose at the initial, T, signed at the bottom of the letter. He had thought that Tom would not have wanted to use his real name, especially if no one else could read it but Harry, anyway. The Dark Lord always seemed to surprise him.

Harry had never heard of Parseltongue as a written language, though he supposed the books written as such would not be very popular, as there were only two known people who could read it.

He wondered what Voldemort wanted to speak with him about, though he did remember the man telling him to report strange goings on in the castle; he did not have anything to report, really, but he did want to mention Peverell's book to him.

He would write a reply to Voldemort after his classes were over; he did not want to worry about it until his first day of teaching was over. He figured the Dark Lord would not be waiting in his Owlery for his reply, anyway; he must have other things to do to keep him busy. Maybe kicking house elves, or torturing his followers, or something, Harry thought with a small smirk.

Breakfast soon was over, and the students who had classes at nine left to get their things. Others loitered in the hallways, in no hurry. Harry had all of his things in his classroom and office already, so he did not need to stop by his rooms for anything. He kept Tom's letter tucked into his inside pocket of his robes, not wanting it away from his person. He did not know what would happen if another person found it, but he did not want to find out.

Unlocking his classroom door, Harry entered and did a last-minute once-over of the room. Students would be filing in anytime now, and he wanted it to look good. His first class was with the third year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, which did not seem too difficult as a first class of the day.

He had just enough time to gather his notes from his office before students came in. It did not take long before the classroom was full; Harry supposed the students tried a little harder to get to class on time in the beginning of term. The students did not speak much; most of them were staring at Harry, waiting for his first move. Harry sat on the top of his classroom desk, staring down his students as they were doing to him.

After a minute, the bell sounded, signaling the beginning of class. Harry took this as time to address his curious students.

"Hello," Harry said to them. "My name is Professor Potter. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Immediately after he introduced himself, a mass of hands was jabbed into the air. Scratching the back of his neck, Harry gestured to the student closest to him with his hand up.

"You're really Harry Potter?"

Harry inwardly sighed. "Yes, though I'd prefer if you called me Professor." All of the raised hands descended back to the desks.

"I know I went to school here last year, and many of you probably saw me, but you'll have to treat me like any other professor now." A few of the students seemed to be put out by this, but Harry ignored it. "I'm not going to be a mean teacher, but I'm not going to be nice because I may recognize you from when I was in school. Sorry." He was not really sure what to say, but he tried his best to sound professional.

"This class meets three days a week; at least one will be dedicated to theory, and the remaining to practice." He had planned on using that idea for every class- for one day of theory, at least one day of practice.

Another hand shot up.

"So, did you really defeat You-Know-Who as a baby?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

The rest of the five classes went fairly similarly, though the sixth and seventh years seemed more reserved when it came to addressing his past. He did not need to answer any questions to them about whether or not he really was Harry Potter. For that, he was grateful. He only had a few mishaps with his students, such as the wrong book purchased or students being in the wrong class, but that was not something he took personally.

He had started the classes with theory, mostly book reading; though, he did give short lectures on the topic beforehand. He would have the classes do non-theory their next meeting.

The day went by pretty quickly, at which he was slightly surprised. He had expected his first day to be grueling, tiring and stressful; on the contrary, it was easy and relatively fun.

At the end of the day, Harry headed back to his rooms after locking his classroom, and wrote back to Tom. He was not sure how to write in Parseltongue, though after a few attempts, involving speaking the words in the foreign tongue in his mind, he was able to do it.

Tom,

Things are going fine, though I do have a thing or two to ask you.

Sunday at eleven would work fine.

-Harry

He did not write much, but he figured it would suffice. He sealed the letter and took it to the Owlery, sending it off with Hedwig. Luckily, the bird knew whom he meant when Harry said Tom; otherwise, it would be a little problematic to explain to a passing student.

Harry was not sure why he had decided to keep Hedwig in the Owlery, as he could keep her in his rooms; at this thought, he made a note to move her when she returned.

Harry did not feel like going to Dumbledore's office, as he was a little tired, so he decided to lounge about in his rooms until dinnertime.

The rest was well worth it, and by dinnertime Harry was feeling energetic once more. He ate dinner in the Great Hall and came back to his rooms to sleep, but not before reviewing his notes for the next day's lecture plans.

Things are looking pretty good, Harry thought to himself with a smile. I think I made the right choice teaching here.

With that, he went to sleep, excited for the days ahead.

Notes:

(1)- I am not sure exactly when breakfast is supposed to start, but I decided it runs between 6:45 and 8:45.

(2)- I'm not sure how Defense Against the Dark Arts classes usually run as far as days per week; I made it up for my story. I don't think it should matter, though.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Feedback would be appreciated.

In case anyone is interested, I wrote a poem about Hogwarts. It's posted in my profile, with this story. No one has to read it, but I wouldn't mind feedback for that too.