This is written for the Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments) forum, specifically for Assignment 1, Foreign Exchange Task 4 - Write about someone applying to do something.

Titles are actually the worst, not going to lie. This one ventures more into the before-applying bit but it revolves around the idea of applying yourself to be someone, to do something, to choose a career, but also more physically about applying to be a teacher.

Aurors can have careers that last lifetimes. Harry's lasts two short years, although they don't feel very short to him. They feel like they last multiple lifetimes, the hours stretching out, long and awful. It's nothing Harry told himself it would be like. It's more fighting and blood and Harry doesn't know how to feel about any of it.

It's Hermione and Ron who make him think about choosing another career. Hermione who says, "You don't have to be an auror," all earnest and hopeful and likely with three dozen plans for him if he asks for them.

"You don't have to do what people what you to do mate," Ron says. Ron who's grown into his staggering height and actually seems settled in his skin now. "You can live your life."

It's a strange realisation—to realise how many options are now open to him. Harry has always done what's been requested of him, whether it be fight Voldemort or join the Ministry as an auror. He's the Boy Who Lived and has never had an opportunity to be something else. Who is he if not the Boy Who Lived?

"Oh, Harry," Hermione says when he tells her this. She wraps him in a hug. "You're whoever you want to be. If it takes time that's fine. Finding yourself can take some time. But you deserve to be who you want to be and make your own choices."

At first, he does nothing with himself, instead finally getting to work scrubbing the grime from Grimmauld Place because he never really got around to it. Eventually, he can finally see the house as it was meant to be once and it's beautiful. But is it home? He's not sure.

When he's done with the house, he finds himself struggling to find something to do. Eventually, he decides to pick up an easy job in Diagon Alley simply so he has something to do with his time. He ends up working in the ice-cream parlour alongside Florean Fortescue who doesn't seem to have changed with the war, still his smiling, cheerful self.

Florean doesn't ask questions, only gives gentle instructions and let Harry be. Two years after the war, he doesn't get as noticed anymore. Those who know him will meet his eyes and some of the older folk will thank him, but most people are content to leave him alone. It seems when nothing's going on in his life, he's much less interesting and people are all too willing to leave the war behind them.

Life changes, as it often does, on a fairly normal evening as Florean and he begin closing up the parlour. Harry waves the last customer goodbye—a little girl with her harried parent who had paint all over their clothing—and gets to work wiping down the counters. "You're good with them," Florean remarks as he moves the ice-cream to put back in the freezer.

"With who?" Harry asks, taking the money out of the register and following Florean towards the back of the parlour.

"With children," Florean calls back. Harry pauses in the kitchen, the money now put away, and watches as Florean shifts things in the freezer with his wand. "You're gentle with them, kind, even when they put their hands everywhere and covered in melted ice cream. A lot of people get fed up with that, but you don't."

Harry shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. "They're young," he says. "They don't really know any better."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't get irritating," Florean says mildly. "This is retail and customer service is the bane of everyone's existence. Trust me, I know how it gets."

"It does get irritating," Harry says. "And at the end of the day, I'll complain. But that doesn't mean there aren't heaps of young kids who are good. And a lot of the time they behave."

Florean hums, glances sideways at Harry and then says without warning, "I could see you as a teacher, I think." It's the closest thing they've ever gotten to discussing Harry's future and his career. Harry simply ducks his head in response and doesn't answer. He's not quite sure how to. Teaching's never really occurred to him as an actual career. He didn't do very well in school and frequently broke school rules and hated bookwork and essays and all sorts of things.

But he did enjoy helping teach Dumbledore's Army. There had been something about seeing the way people's spells grew stronger and how they grinned with elation when they succeeded.

When he next meets up with Ron and Hermione, he brings it up cautiously. Unlike what he expected, they don't laugh at him, just look thoughtful—which is perhaps what he should've expected since they are his friends after all. "I think I see it," Ron says at last. "You enjoyed teaching in Dumbledore's Army and you could be a good teacher once you figure out your style and everything. You'd teach DADA, yeah?"

Harry shrugs. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "What else would I teach?" He asks.

"Anything you want to," Hermione answers promptly. "Really Harry, what do you want to teach?"

He only thinks for a second before he says, "DADA." He's certain about this. It doesn't feel right in his bones, but he wants it. And that's more than he can say about most of the things in your life.

Hermione nods like that's all she really needed to hear. "I'll have to look into how you get teaching placements," she says. "But between you and me, I think you best write a letter to Professor McGonagall."

"Hogwarts?" Harry asks, surprised. He'd just begun thinking about teaching—not at Hogwarts. That'd certainly be a far too prestigious position! It's the best school in the United Kingdoms.

"It makes sense," Ron says. "You're the Boy Who Lived, who defeated Voldemort, who taught Dumbledore's Army. Only the best deserve you."

It's the kind of compliment that has Harry grinning even as he flushes, embarrassed. "Alright," he says. "I'll send an owl to Professor McGonagall."

He receives an answer the next morning. It's an entire list of what he needs to do and when he needs to be ready written in McGonagall's scrawl. And… And he could be a teacher's aid in a year, if he applies himself. And he will. He knows he will and McGonagall clearly knows it too considering she's already promised him a position.

Harry smiles. He thinks that this is what he wants—at least for now, even if it doesn't last forever. But, looking at the final line of McGonagall's letter, he has a feeling it will last for a long, long time.

I look forward to you joining us at Hogwarts as part of the teaching staff.

From,

Professor McGonagall.

P.S. Hogwarts will be pleased to welcome you back home, Harry.