THC/The Houses Competition.
House: Gryffindor
Class: Charms
Prompt: [Profession] Professor
Category: Round 7 Standard
Word count: 1340
First Day of Many
Harry couldn't think of a time he was more nervous then he was right now. He thought back to his first day of Hogwarts, but he wouldn't say he was nervous, more like scared; scared that he wouldn't be able to fit in, scared that when the time came, he wouldn't be able to do magic and he would be sent back to Privet Drive. He thought back to his first quidditch game in his first year. Once again, he wouldn't say he was nervous — again scared, scared of disappointing his house. Wood had been no help either, saying that he ended up in the hospital wing after cracking his head open due to a rogue bludger.
The Yule Ball: he had been hesitant; he hadn't known how to dance or the proper protocol for those types of things — not to mention that he hadn't wanted to go in the first place, but as a champion, he hadn't been given much of a choice.
Asking Cho out to the Yule Ball, he would say he had been apprehensive more than anything. He expected most young boys, when first asking out a girl, are afraid of being humiliated on the chance she might reject them.
At the Triwizard Tournament, he hadn't had time to be nervous — jittery and uptight, yes. And it hadn't helped that Hermione spent most of her days hysterically, grabbing any book she could lay hands on that might keep him alive.
But today, he was nervous, and he didn't much care for it. He hadn't been able to sleep for the past couple of nights, leading up to today. His palms and underarms sweated so profusely that he had needed to change his shirt twice that morning, not to mention that he felt like he was about to vomit at any moment, which wouldn't go over well on his first day.
He didn't know what he was so nervous about; he had spent his fifth year teaching Dumbledore's Army, and he had done just fine with that — this wasn't much different. Just a room of eleven-year-old students waiting to be taught Defence Against the Dark Arts for their first class at Hogwarts.
Harry smiled a little as the memory of his first class came to mind. Introduction to Potions with Professor Snape: it seemed like only yesterday he had been getting yelled at by the professor for not paying attention. He could only imagine what his old professor might think if he learned that Harry was now the new DADA Professor. Professor Potter — it did have a nice ring to it.
Harry did have to admit that the Dark Arts position seemed to be a little cursed. First, there had been Quirrell, who'd ended up having Voldemort hidden beneath his turban. Then, Lockhart, who had just been an idiot, and that was putting it nicely. Lupin had been a great professor, but thanks to his monthly problem, he had resigned. Mad-Eye Moody had turned out to be Barty Crouch Jr.
And Umbridge? Well, Harry believed that she had been Satan in disguise. The last was Severus Snape, and even though he hadn't been a nice man, he had at least taken the time to teach the students.
Harry had to admit that he was a little worried that by the end of the year, he would end up dead, missing, or fired. If anything, Harry was hoping for fired than the former two.
Taking in a deep breath, Harry made his way out of his office, gazing out into the sea of red and blue ties as the first year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws filled his classroom.
"Morning, all, I hope all of you had a good first night in the castle," Harry announced as he made his way down the stairs, watching as the students gasped when they realized who it was.
"My name is Professor Potter," Harry spoke as he wrote his name out on the chalkboard. He thought it to be unnecessary, but he had planned everything out to the letter, and he wasn't about to skip any steps. "And I will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor." Harry turned around to face the class.
Taking a deep breath, Harry continued his speech, "You may not think it, but Defence Against the Dark Arts is a handy skill that could save your life one day, so if you will open your textbooks to page fifty-three, we will get started on today's lesson." Harry watched as a young Ravenclaw girl shot her hand up into the air, the same way Hermione had done during their first potion lesson.
"Yes?"
"Is it true that you rode on the back of a dragon?" the young girl asked, sitting on the edge of her seat, clearly eager to hear the story. "Because my dad told me…" But before the girl could finish, one of the Gryffindor boys interrupted.
"Is it true that Professor Longbottom killed You-Know-Who's pet snake with the sword of Gryffindor?"
Harry let out a small nervous laugh. "We are not here to talk about that. We're here to learn, so back to the lesson... Who can tell me—"
But before Harry could get anything else out, the same Ravenclaw girl shot her hand up but this time did not wait to be called on. "Did you really defeat a troll in your first year?"
One of the other Ravenclaw boys turned around in his chair to face the girl sitting behind him. "That's nothing! You know he killed a fifty foot basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets when he was twelve! Rumor has it that its skeleton is still down there to this day."
"And what about the hundreds of Dementors he fought? I even heard he defeated a werewolf with his bare hands!"
Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the comment one of the Gryffindor girls had made. How in the world did that rumour began?
He spent the next ten minutes listening to his students go on and on about his many adventures during his school years and the increasingly dramatic ways he had supposedly survived going up against You-Know-Who.
There was the theory that he was drinking unicorn blood to keep himself alive. There was the story of how he used the Imperius Curse to make You-Know-Who use the killing curse on himself — Harry thought that would have been interesting.
He listened as one of the Ravenclaw boys explained how his scar gave him supernatural abilities — I wish! — and because of them, he would never be able to die. But one of his favourite theories was that he did die, but he had made a deal with Merlin himself to come back and finish You-Know-Who off and save the wizarding world.
Harry chuckled as he listened to each theory the children had, but once the theories started to become too absurd with one following after the other, he raised his hand up in the air and called out, "Listen up."
All the students quickly stopped talking as they turned back around in their seats to face him.
"I can understand that you have a lot of questions about what went down, so I will make all of you a deal. Once everyone finishes their work, I will spend the rest of the class answering your questions. Do we have a deal?" Harry proposed with it being clear that he wasn't going to be able to teach any other way. He watched as all of his students nodded their heads in agreement, and he finally picked up the chalk again.
"Put your books away. We will be learning something else today," Harry stated before turning around and writing something down. "Who can tell me what 'Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself' means?" he asked, turning back around to the class and smiling as a sea of hands flew up.
This was going to be an interesting year.