Chapter 26:

Professor Potter

The bedroom at Potter Manor reminded Harry of the boy's dormitory in Griffindor tower. Burgundy walls, mahogany wood floors, and a wide window that overlooked the rear gardens (which he had been happy to discover was infested with gnomes, despite Nimsy's constant attempts at degnoming).

He hovered in the doorway, taking it in. It was a large– at least twice the size of his room at Number 4 Privet Drive (and innumerably bigger that the cupboard he's spent much of his formative years in). A large bed dominated the center in the room, covered in red and gold bedsheets. Directly next to the bed sat a dark wooden dresser. The wall directly opposite him had a desk set in front of the window, and a tall bookcase. To his left was a small closet, and a door that led to what Harry assumed was a bathroom.

"You can change it to be however you like," his father said behind him.

"We were going to redecorate it, but we didn't know what you'd like…" his mother added regretfully.

"If you don't like the colors, I can easily have them spelled a different color," James rambled. "We can even have the furniture-"

"It's perfect," Harry interrupted. "Thank you," he added, turning around to look at them. "Really. It's great."

Both of his parents visibly relaxed in front of him. "If you need anything," his mother told him, pushing a lock of red hair behind her ear, "we'll just be two doors down." She pointed to her right. He nodded.

"And Padfoot will be at the end of the hall by the stairs if he makes it back tonight," James added nervously. Sirius had had to leave after dinner, for something for the Order (he wouldn't tell Harry what it was). "If you need Godfatherly things. Prank planning, midnight snacks and the like."

"Got it," Harry replied, amused at how nervous his parents were to officially have him 'home.' "I'll see you in the morning?"

Lily and James jerked back into action. "Of course, dear," Lily smiled and kissed him on the forehead. James ruffled his hair, and then wished him goodnight.

Once he closed the door, Harry searched the room for his book bag. He found it sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed, and made quick work of unpacking his schoolwork and clothes. He plopped his books, scrolls, quill and ink on the desk unceremoniously and made quick work of changing into his pajamas.

With a yawn he crawled into the big bed.

IIIIIIIIIIIIII

Harry shot up out of bed, panting, sweaty and short of breath. He groaned and rubbed his face. It was the same dream – it was always the same dream anymore. The door at the end of the long hallway.

The only thing different this time was that he had seen Mad-eye Moody and a woman with bubblegum pink hair standing outside of it, guarding it. He distantly recalled them speaking with one another, but the details were fading quickly now that he was awake.

Harry groaned again when he realized it was still dark outside and that there was no chance of him falling asleep again. He flopped back down onto the bed, and racked his brain about how to waste a few hours before the rest of the manor woke up for the morning. After entertaining a few different opportunities (working on his potions essay, exploring the house, and starting a conversation with some of the friendly looking portraits among them), he settled on checking out the study his father had briefly shown him on the grand tour he'd received after dinner. Maybe the Potter collection had something on wand lore that might help in his search?

Sighing, he slid out from underneath the covers, put his glasses on and padded quietly out of the room.

It took him longer than he had planned to find the correct door, but eventually he stumbled upon the portrait of the old witch with the purple hat (he had already forgotten her name) that hung on the wall next to the room he was looking for. He stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him.

It was a very long room, at least fifty feet by Harry's measurement. Bookshelves lined the walls in their entirety and an assortment of couches, chairs, patterned rugs and tables marked the center of it. Moonlight filtered through the ceiling high windows and made square patterns on the wood floors. His footsteps echoed off the vaulted ceiling.

Clicking his tongue, Harry walked down the length of the room with his head sideways, reading some of the various titles and pulling out books that looked promising. Once he had an armful he found a comfortable table in the middle of the room, bathed in enough moonlight to read, and sat down.

Sunlight was just starting to peak through the windows when he gave up. He snapped the book he was reading closed (Wand Theories: Olde and Modern) and stretched his back. Intent on covering his research tracks, he walked back up the room, putting his selections back as he went.

He was sliding the last book onto the shelf, when someone poked their head in through the open door. "Harry? What are you doing up so early?"

Harry turned around to face the door. His mother was leaning up against the doorway, wrapped in a short silk robe and wearing pajama pants and a short sleeve shirt.

"Couldn't sleep," he explained to her. "I figured I'd explore the house a bit. I hope you don't mind."

She raised an eyebrow. "It's perfectly alright, darling. Why wouldn't it be?" She gestured for him to step closer. "Would you like to help me with breakfast?"

"Sure."

IIIIIIIIIIIII

The two worked comfortably together in the kitchen, chatting away as they chopped and prepared breakfast together. Harry was currently leaned against the counter, mixing a bowl of eggs with a whisk, listening to his mother tell him a story about her and Alice Prewitt (Neville's mother."

His mother suddenly squealed and jumped up to sit on the countertop, story forgotten. A daddy long leg spider had come crawling out from under the counter. "This bloody house," she huffed, looking down at it, terrified. "Get rid of it."

Harry laughed. "You're just as bad as Ron," he told her. "It's just a daddy long legs, mum."

She gave him a dirty look. "I don't care if it's a sister-short-leg spider. Just- be a good son and squish it." Harry picked up the offending arachnid with his hand (laughing at his mother's look of absolute horror) and carried it to the open window. He let it crawl off his hand and back into the garden with a tired yawn.

Lily stepped back down off the counter gracefully, and smoothed out her pajamas, trying to regain her dignity. "When did you get so comfortable with spiders?" she asked. "You were just as terrified of them as I was when you were a baby. I can't imagine my sister suffering the shame of having spiders in her home for you to become acquainted with them," she added, sarcastically, turning back to the stove to continue frying the bacon.

Harry resumed his egg whisking duties. "There was a bunch in my cupboard growing up," he said thoughtlessly. "I made friends with them."

She turned to look at him, her face deeply set in confusion. "Your cupboard?" Harry froze and inwardly groaned. He hadn't meant to tell them that. "What do you mean your cupboard?" her voice was alarmingly high.

He sat the whisk down in the bowl. "I kind of… slept in the cupboard under the stairs… before Hogwarts…" he said delicately.

"WHAT!?"

Harry flinched and risked a glance at her - she looked furious. Angry than he'd seen her before.

Lily stepped closer to her son. "They made you sleep. In a CUPBOARD!?" Her jaw moved up and down silently. "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to tear her limb-from-limb. I-"

James stumbled into the kitchen, wand at the ready. "What happened? Is everything alright?" he rushed, worriedly.

Lily spun to face her husband. "Petu- those people made our son sleep in a cupboard!"

James put his wand down and gave him a soft, sympathetic look. "Harry."

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "It wasn't that bad," he explained. "Dudley would leave me alone. He never would have if I had had the bedroom."

"Please don't tell me they locked you in that cupboard the way they did with the bedroom upstairs…" James asked quietly. Lily's face contorted in horror at the thought.

"Sometimes," Harry mumbled. "Never longer than a week. And I probably deserved it after that disappearing glass incident at the zoo…"

James set his wand on the counter and put his hands on Harry's shoulders, seriously. "No one deserves to be locked in a cupboard, Harry. Especially not a kid. Especially not for something you had no control over."

Lily pulled Harry into a tight hug, more for her benefit than anything. "You're never going back there ever again. I'm so sorry." Harry stood there awkwardly, and let her comfort him.

James frowned. "I should go back there and punch that oaf again…"

"Wait, what?" Harry asked, incredulously, breaking out of his mother's grasp. "You punched Uncle Vernon?" James nodded proudly. "That's wicked."

IIIIIIIIIIIII

James returned with Harry to the school Sunday night just before dinner, dressed in a new set of navy professorial robes. The two walked up to Dumbledore's office together (Dumbledore had asked James to swing by before dinner and sign employment paperwork), swapping school stories to pass the time.

"Well, this is where I leave you," James said pleasantly, once they reached the stone gargoyle. "Don't get into too much trouble before dinner," he teased his son.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll do my best."

Once James had disappeared, Harry made his way back down towards the Great Hall, lost in his thoughts. The weekend with his parents had been a reprieve from all of the extra attention he had been receiving at school since his parents had revealed themselves to the Ministry (with the exception of the kitchen debacle yesterday morning).

He was, after all, simultaneously the boy who lied, the boy who lived, a member of the family who lived (a new unfortunate title he'd discovered during breakfast that morning while scanning through the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet), or Lord Potter depending on who you asked, what time of day you asked the question and the given person's emotional state at that exact moment you asked it. That's not even including the titles he was sure people called him behind his back.

Harry had received his fair share of attention over the last several years, but his parents being alive had heightened the attention to a new, highly uncomfortable level that he found himself quite unprepared to deal with.

Thankfully, he had been able to catch up on the mountain of homework he had brought with him. His mother had been a great help (his father and Sirius not so much), especially with his potions essay. Harry was certain Snape would still give it a low grade, but at least he actually (sort of) understood the process of brewing the Draught of Peace.

"Harry! There you are!" Hermione exclaimed a while later, running down the hall to meet him. "You wouldn't believe what Ron and I discovered while you were gone!" she said quickly once she reached him. "We snuck into the restricted section last night and we found the-"

James materialized behind them. "Doth mine ears deceive me? Sneaking about the castle after bedtime?"

Both Harry and Hermione jumped in surprise. "Mr. Potter!" she stuttered, blushing profusely. "I-"

James's face split into a wide grin. "I'm so proud." He patted Harry on the shoulder. "I should be off, I don't want to be late for Dumbledore's announcement. It was good to seeing you, Hermione."

She scrunched up her face, puzzled. "It was – it was good to see you too, sir," she forced out.

They both watched him leave until he was out of earshot. "That was fast," he murmured. He reasoned that the older wizard had used one of his many secret passageways to catch up with him so fast.

Harry finally glanced back at Hermione. "What did you guys find out?"

"Never mind that for now," she said dismissively, taking him by the arm and leading him to the Great Hall. "What did your father mean about Professor Dumbledore making an announcement?"

He turned and grinned at her as they walked. "Dumbledore's appointed him the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

"Really?" she asked, incredulously.

Harry frowned. "Why do you say it like that?" He asked, testily. "It'll be brilliant."

She bit her lip and continued. "Well, it's just… I don't mean to be rude, Harry, but… Your father isn't exactly professorly."

"Professorly? Hermione, that's not even a word." They stopped just outside the entrance hall as the Bloody Baron and Sir Nicholas floated past, arguing with one another.

Hermione sighed one of her trademark sighs, the kind she reserved for when she had to lead him and Ron to a conclusion she thought was obvious. "Your dad is great Harry, don't get me wrong. He's a very talented wizard. He just doesn't seem like the responsible, mature type of person you would expect to see in a Professor."

Harry cocked his head to the side, as they continued on. "I hadn't actually thought of that," he said after a moment's hesitation. James Potter, after all, was a notorious prankster with little regard for the rules. He snorted. "He's going to be terrible at it, isn't he?"

"It seems a bit strange that Dumbledore didn't ask your mother, don't you think?" she asked. "She'd be a wonderful professor."

Before Harry had the opportunity to really ponder the question in any detail, they were intercepted by Angelina, bundled tightly in her Griffindor scarf. "There you are, Potter," she said loudly, walking over to them quickly as she began to unwrap it.

Hermione watched her come closer before turning to him. "I'll save you a spot?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." She gave him a small smile before continuing on.

Angelina huffed when she caught up with him. "I've been looking for you all weekend."

"Sorry," he told her. "I was with my parents."

She nodded understandingly as they joined the hungry crowd filtering into the Great Hall. "Weasley told me as much." She took a moment to straighten out her braids. "Quidditch practice, tomorrow night. I want to get some solid work in before the game on Saturday. We're going to smash Slytherin."

Harry nodded at her. "I'll be there."

She gave him a sour look. They squeezed their way through a group of giggling 3rd year girls once they passed through the entryway. The girls giggled louder as they watched Harry pass. He blushed. "You'd better be. If you're not there because you've gotten another detention for mouthing off to Professor Umbridge or fighting with Malfoy, I'll come after you. I need us to win the house cup if I want to try out for the Chudley Cannons next fall."

Harry spotted Ron and Hermione sitting down near the head table. "I promise," he told her. "I'll be there."

Angelina nodded. "Right. I'll see you later. I've got to scarf down some food before I meet Katie in the library. NEWT's," she added in explanation.

After saying goodbye to her, Harry squeezed in between Ron and Seamus. "Hey," he greeted them.

Seamus scowled at him and immediately stood up to leave. Harry's good mood darkened as he watched him march further down the table to sit with Lee Jordan and Pavarti.

"Ignore him, Harry," Hermione advised sympathetically from across the table. "He'll get over it eventually."

Ron patted him on the back. "Yeah, mate. It's not just you. He's been a nightmare all weekend."

"He needs to get his head out of his arse," Harry grumbled.

Ron changed topics. "Is it true? What Hermione said about your dad?" Harry nodded. "That's wicked. You don't think he'll give us detention for missing class, do you? I could use with a break from all of this homework."

Hermione looked unimpressed, and opened her mouth to chastise him, when Dumbledore stepped up to the podium on the dais.

Harry watched as Professor Dumbledore waited for the Great Hall to quiet down. Glancing behind the headmaster, he noticed his father sliding into a seat next to Professor McGonagall. James caught his eye and gave him a wink.

"Before we begin this delicious meal," he said once the hall had quieted down, "I have an announcement to make." A string of murmurs erupted from the house tables. "As many of you have discovered, Professor Umbridge has decided to step down from her position as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, in order to better focus on her Ministry duties as High Inquisitor here at Hogwarts. While we will all be disappointed to see her go-"

Fred and George sniggered loudly, from farther down the table, dragging out a few chuckles from other students. Ron snorted, and Harry had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. Hermione just rolled her eyes (whether it was at Dumbledore or them, Harry wasn't entirely sure). Dumbledore gave the twins a pointed look before continuing. "But as a circus performer I met in my youth once said, the show must go on. That being said, I have the pleasure of announcing that James Potter has generously agreed to take her place."

The Great Hall erupted in applause. James stood and give a wave. Harry glanced down the table at the Twins, who were hollering exuberantly and laughed.

"I hope you all do your best to make Professor Potter feel at home. And without further ado, let's eat."

Food appeared on the tables. Both Harry and Ron made quick work of filling up their plates; Hermione cringed at them while she slowly filled hers.

"Oi!" Ron said excitedly, mouth full of mashed potatoes. "If your dad is Defense professor, does that mean we don't need to go through with this club thing?"

Harry shook his head, slicing up a pork chop. "The ministry is making him use Umbridge's lesson plans."

Hermione sighed. "I told you that the other day, Ron." She took a delicate bite of her dinner. "Harry… You didn't tell him about it did you?"

"What? Defense club?" she nodded. "No," he told her, shaking his head. "I figured it was best to keep him out of it. I don't want us to get shut down – and there's no way mum would allow it." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Wait. What was it you were wanting to tell me about the library earlier, Hermione?"

Her eyes widened. "I'd nearly forgotten with the news about your dad," she said excitedly, and gestured at the two boys across from her to lean in. "Ron and I think we found something in the restricted section."

"Really?" Harry replied, intrigued.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. It was a really old book on charms – like really old. We found a proper description for the Priori Incantatem spell, and apparently it's based – or inspired, it wasn't very clear- off of an even older spell from Merlin's time."

"What's the older spell? Do you think that's what we're looking for?"

Hermione shrugged. "Solve Fasciculos, or the spell of Undoing in English. There wasn't much more in the book other than the name of the spell, but it certainly seems promising. But what we really need still is something that will explain how your wand connected with Voldemort's that night."

"At least we have some proper evidence now though," Ron told him. "Something solid to look for."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Good job, guys. It definitely seems like the right direction…" He glanced up at the head table where his father was talking spiritedly to Professor McGonagall. "I looked through the family study while I was at the Manor, but I couldn't find anything. Maybe there will be something about Solve Fasciculos. There were a lot of old charms books."

"If we don't find anything by Christmas," Hermione reasoned, "we'll try looking there. I'd say we should look at it now, but we haven't a feasible way to access it."

"Agreed."