Ashes in your mouth.
Chapter Eighteen: Honeymoon's over, work to do.Harry finally snaps and starts hexing everyone. No, not really. He gets a job.
Harry Potter stepped out of the headmistresses' fireplace in a flare of green flames. He stumbled but avoided falling. He looked around; the room was tidy and bore the imprint of Professor McGonagall; the tartan padding on the stiff, hard-backed chairs in front of her desk, an entire bookshelf with bound copies of … Harry turned his head sideways to read the spines 'Transfiguration Today'
One new addition, over the headmistresses' desk was the immense skull of a basilisk hanging from fine wires, or perhaps levitating. The roof of the mouth had a large diamond shaped hole. Like a sword might make, perhaps. Harry frowned at that. The fangs looked subtly fake.
"Potter, and you're early" said Professor McGonagall.
"The skull's new." said Harry.
"The Defence Professor had it, but people kept trying to steal it" said Professor McGonagall. "It does have its uses though, when parents come to complain, I can now point at it and say "That's a basilisk skull."
"And?" asked Harry, wondering what the point was.
"Those that know what it is, panic and stop complaining because their little terror got detention for a week" said Professor McGonagall "And muggle-born parents see it as proof we do something about student safety."
"But I did that when I was twelve" said Harry.
"They don't know that" said Professor McGonagall "I can tell then completely honestly that one of the board of governors did it."
Harry frowned.
"It's true" said Professor McGonagall "I thought you'd like to see the staff using more guile" she said, with a smug smile.
"This is payback, isn't it?" asked Harry.
Professor McGonagall smiled… cattily.
Harry walked to the door, and had just grabbed the handle when Professor McGonagall asked very casually "And how are you finding married life?"
Harry turned around "You could read witch weekly. They have all sorts of gossip."
"Oh Potter, you wound me" said Professor McGonagall.
"I wake up and there she is" said Harry.
"Well, are you happy?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"That's why I married her" said Harry.
"And should I expect more little Slytherins to arrive in around a dozen years?" asked Professor McGonagall.
Harry folded his hand over his chest "That's a pretty personal question" he said.
"I'm sorry, but the thought of your children filling the castle helps me cope with my work" said Professor McGonagall.
Harry blinked "It does?" he asked, surprised. McGonagall was really sentimental, apparently.
"Yes Potter. I think, I'm not doing this forever, I'll resign before Harry Potter's children turn Hogwarts into a madhouse."
"I'm hurt" said Harry, actually feeling a bit hurt by her implication. "They're not that bad" he said.
"I was expecting that you and Ms Greengrass might make some yourselves" said Professor McGonagall "Doesn't that dreadful contract of yours make another child mandatory?"
"One for Greengrass" said Harry "We'll see about others. I wasn't that bad. Was I?"
"I spent seven years with an orphan that ended up in the infirmary nearly dead at least once a year" said Professor McGonagall "And yours know their father is on the board of governors in a hereditary seat."
"If any of them ever say 'my father will hear of this' said Harry "I'll be very disappointed in them."
"That must be difficult, having a school rival as a brother-in-law."
"We don't meet" said Harry.
"That can't continue though, once they're old enough to play with their cousins." said Professor McGonagall archly.
"I'm not keen for my children to mix with his" said Harry.
"Well doubtless your wives will have different ideas" said Professor McGonagall vaguely.
Harry snorted. If she'd heard Daphne at Malfoy's baby shower….
"You could be the uncle that teaches them how to behave" said Professor McGonagall "Not to believe in blood supremacy."
"There's only Scorpius" said Harry. "Hopefully."
"Would you wish the boy to be an only child?" asked Professor McGonagall "A lonely life in a slightly fading mansion?"
Harry left without replying. He didn't feel like discussing more Malfoys, of all things. He'd eaten today.
Harry walked down the spiral staircase, and stepped out onto the hallway. As was now 'usual' somewhere distant at Hogwarts, a brassy horn sounded. Harry sighed and walked across the hall, opening the door to the boardroom, and going to his chair, the green-painted back hard behind him.
He stared at the table and thought about Scorpius growing up at Malfoy Manor. Astoria was bit silly, and obviously delusional as she loved Malfoy, but… it would be a lonely life for a child, and the alternative was that he'd visit his parents friends. Harry imagined the little mini-Malfoy finding some Crabbe and Goyle substitutes, being the same thing all over again. His gut didn't like the thought.
Neville, Bole Smith, Griselda Mountebanks, Neville's Gran – looking oddly relaxed and smug, and finally Narcissa Malfoy… looking serene, but a bit lined arrived.
Harry grumped his way through the start of the board meeting. The school brooms had been replaced, with low-end Cleansweeps, but Professor McGonagall reported cheerily that not a single broom had malfunctioned, and Flying grades where up, with not a single Troll, and only two Dreadfuls, both children with a debilitating fear of heights. Something about that bothered Harry.
"And unfortunately, our History marks continue to slip, with Hogwarts once again having the worst WEA and ICW affiliated marks in OWL and NEWT history." said Professor McGonagall.
"Hogwarts really must consider finding an alternative History Professor" said Griselda Mountebanks. "If Hogwarts was a Ministry funded school, Cuthbert would have been replaced already."
"We tried letting the ministry interfere" said Harry "It did not end well."
"I will reach out to one of the pre-eminent historians alive, who I will add has some teaching experience" said Professor McGonagall.
The board, except for Harry nodded politely.
The meeting dragged on, with Horace Slughorn apparently starting to have difficulty with stairs, so a search for a new Potions professor needed to start. The reason given was 'Age.' Harry thought to himself "Too fat to get up and down stairs"
The meeting ended and Harry stood up, eager to get home.
"Slytherin, a word?" asked Professor McGonagall.
Harry waited, and was talked at 'casually' by Bole Smith, congratulating him on marrying 'such a fine filly.' Harry wanted to punch his face for comparing Daphne to a horse. She had an aristocratic profile, she only looked horse-faced from a very limited set of angles.
McGonagall asked "Would you please teach History?"
Harry shook his head "No." and something nagged at him "The first years who failed flying. Get their fear of heights treated. St Mungos can treat that sort thing, surely?"
"Would you pay for that?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"Just get their parents permission and take them" said Harry firmly.
"And is this an official directive?" said Professor McGonagall. Harry stared at his old Professor. "Yes" he snapped "They're missing out on a big part of sports and flying's incredibly soothing. It's official policy. No student left on the ground."
"I doubt they'll make their house teams" said Professor McGonagall.
"That's not the point. We can help them, it'll probably only take one visit." said Harry.
"Very well… Slytherin of Slytherin" said Professor McGonagall.
Harry refused to dwell on the idea of being History professor as he flooed home to Slytherin Nest Seven. Though, he did sometimes ... like right now, get tempted to floo to 'Slytherins Nest' and see how embarrassed the owner could get.
He found two beautiful blondes in his cosy little living room, playing exploding snap. Delphini was winning; if less soot was winning. The soot on Daphne's face reminded him of the first time he'd seen Daphne looking really alive, snooping into the spent fireworks box at Diagon Alley, and he couldn't help his smile turning into a grin.
That night Harry recounted the meeting under gentle prodding by Daphne. Well her finger was bit pointy.
"You could do that" said Daphne. "Teach History."
"I'd have to mark the assignments" said Harry.
"I could help you, if you made it worth my while? You could offer marking to Granger, she'd jump at the chance." said Daphne.
"I'm not that good at History. Apart from the war, I hardly know it." said Harry.
"So get your friends, and wife who got an E in History to help." said Daphne.
"You got an E?"
"In NEWT history." said Daphne. "The school wasn't a good learning environment."
"Well" said Harry "I could tutor you?"
"Oh really?" asked Daphne "I suppose Professor Slytherin could help a poor pure-blood witch trapped in a marriage contract, who just needs to get an O?"
"An O?" asked Harry, swallowing
"Or I"ll be punished" said Daphne huskily. "I'd get spanked."
Harry elbowed Daphne "Oy!" he said "Are you serious? The thought of marking long essays really puts me off."
"About Forty students per year, seven years. Set six inches, that's only… a few hundred pages a week.?"
"Six inches? That's pretty short" said Harry.
"I find six inches quite enough" said Daphne.
"I was trying to have a serious conversation about teaching" said Harry.
"But… you'd have a classroom of your own, and a poor pure-blood witch would probably do anything for a higher grade" said Daphne.
"Are you serious?" asked Harry.
"I'm teasing you" Daphne touched Harry under the covers "But you're all excited?"
"You're a monster, you know that?" asked Harry, as Daphne rolled over onto his lap.
"You love me" said Daphne, astride Harry.
"Well yes" said Harry, grabbing his wand from the bedside table and locking the bedroom door with 'colloportus.'
...
Harry lay in bed, a warm Daphne on top of him. He felt content, and a tiny bit squashed.
"Are you serious about thinking I could teach history?" asked Harry softly.
"Yes" said Daphne "And I can get a naughty schoolgirl outfit and visit my husband in his classroom out of hours"
Harry groaned "Minx" he gasped.
"Looks like I'll get two O's" said Daphne huskily. "Who'd have thought you'd want to be a naughty professor?"
"Not fair" said Harry.
"Well Professor Slytherin would probably use a ruler to discipline such a naughty girl" said Daphne, and giggled.
"Not the S&M jokes again" said Harry.
"Oh, you might have to tie such a naughty girl to her chair" said Daphne huskily.
"Right, that's it!" said Harry, and he tickled, and Daphne squealed and thrashed about on the bed. "You don't even like S&M!" said Harry.
"It winds you up, and we shag again" said Daphne "Besides that's light bondage, completely different."
"And?"
"Hate it, but your naughty side gets off the joking" said Daphne. "So as I said, we both…" she fluttered her eyelashes at Harry.
Quite a bit later Harry kissed Daphne goodnight.
"Anything else at the meeting?"
"Slughorn will retire in a year or so. Mobility problems. We need a new potions professor" said Harry.
"Huh" said Daphne.
-==0==-
Daphne pointed out at lunch that Hogwarts had roomy grounds, and was much warmer in winter than The Nest. "Besides, Professor Slytherin should be teaching History."
"I'd miss you two" said Harry firmly "Not doing it."
"I asked McGonagall" said Daphne "There are suites for staff. Plenty of room for you and me, and Delphini. Staff have personal fireplaces for flooing in and out."
"I've always wanted to see Hogwart's painting collection" said Sarah, unexpectedly "The largest collection of magical paintings in Britain. Argus Filch has quite a reputation as a conservator."
"Filch?" asked Harry, blinking.
"He maintains over eight hundred paintings in a school full of children" said Sarah "When I was just married, his paper on removal of staining from older frames was the reason I did an apprenticeship in painting."
Harry lifted a finger "Wait. You're a painter of magical paintings, not houses?"
"Well yes, but there aren't a lot of jobs actually doing it, and with the children and then the war…." said Sarah.
"Filch is not young" said Harry politely "I'm sure I can organise a visit."
"Obviously" said Daphne.
"Mum, Filch is just a grumpy old man that cleans the toilets" said Fiona.
"He what?" asked Sarah, sounding shocked.
Harry sent a letter to Minerva, and took a fuming Sarah to Hogwarts the next day.
Harry introduced Sarah to Professor McGonagall.
"Sarah Pottinger" said Harry "My nanny, housekeeper and general organiser, as I wrote, she's keen to meet Filch, she used to do paintings."
Sarah looked annoyed at that "I did an apprenticeship in magical paintings after graduating from Hull. Dr Filch's paper on painting restoration – removing foreign object staining from frames was the reason Is studied it in fir first place."
"Dr Filch?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"It's only polite to call someone with a PhD in art conservation Doctor" said Sarah "My daughter, Fiona says you have him cleaning toilets?"
Professor McGonagall calmly said "When I inherited the job, Argus was already the caretaker. Mr Potter… Syltherin knows where his office is, he can easily take you there."
"Daphne thinks he should teach history" said Sarah "He's resisting but Daphne has her ways."
"I am right here" said Harry.
"I look forward to hearing what happened" said Professor McGonagall.
Harry led Sararh down toward the ground floor ,where Filch's office was.
"She didn't even know he was a Doctor." said Sarah indignantly "A caretaker! You need to fix that."
Harry wondered how someone … a squib… got a shit job on top of their real one. He found it easy to imagine.
Harry knocked on Filch's office door. The neatly painted wooden frame of the banned object list looked…. Rather well done, and the list was in a precise, neat copperplate. Harry had never noticed.
The door opened. Filch stood there in his foul over-coat, looking even older than Harry remembered.
"Mr Slytherin!" said Filch "Are we going to start using the thumbscrews again? I've got my eye on a few of the students, the ones that keep touching the older sculptures."
"Hello… Dr Filch" said Harry "This is Sarah Pottinger. She works for me, but apparently studied magical paintings, and is a fan of yours"
Filch grunted "I'm just the caretaker" he whined "There's no way I can keep up with the paintings , let alone the sculptures. When I was hired by Dippett, I was just doing art. Then Rosberg, the caretaker died, and I had to cover for him. Dumbledore never asked."
Harry took several calming breaths "Right" said Harry "I'll sort that out, you can show Sarah your um, art stuff?"
"Could I really?" asked Sarah excitedly "See your studio."
"Well it's not much, but it's on the ground floor so the temperatures fairly consistent" said Filch, stepping back into his messy office, piled high with confiscated fanged frisbees…. Which would cut paintings, boxes of dungbombs… which would … Harry swallowed, feeling a yawning gulf, like getting married, of being responsible, not being a boy at school. Filch had opened a door into a what harry had assumed was a cupboard, and a classroom, painted white had piles of paintings, and a few on easels, and a table of bottles and jars.
Sarah dashed in and started getting an introduction to the four paintings Filch was currently restoring.
Harry stood at the door of the caretakers office, and made his mind up. He was going to be a history professor, he was going to hire a caretaker… one that didn't hate children, and he was going to see if Sarah might… work with Filch … Dr Filch on repairing the paintings. And sculptures. He hadn't even thought about not touching them; the statues of some of the more… scantily clad witches had smoothed off breasts from generations of boys hands.
Harry spoke up "Dr Filch, Sarah, I'm off to make some staffing changes; get a Caretaker for you, Argus,and Sarah, if I move to Hogwarts in term-time, you might want to come work with Argus…. If you'd like some help, of course?"
"Help?" said Filch bitterly "Nobody helps me."
Harry took a deep breath "Well, first time for everything" said Harry, and he headed for the grand staircase. Something was going to get done… even if he had to mark exams.
The person who reacted worst at The Nest to he news, was oddly, Fiona.
"Mum, at Hogwarts?" asked Fiona "But… Hogwarts is school. With teachers."
"And Dr Filch" said Harry "He has a doctorate in art conservation."
"This is a really great opportunity Boss" said Sarah "He obviously could do with a bit of help with bits magic can do, and I, well.. he's an expert. Not having to clean will be nice. Who'd you get for a caretaker?"
"I wanted to get Draco Malfoy" said Harry "But there was no way I'd swing that. Can't have a former Death Eater in the school after all."
Daphne snorted.
"But I found ... well Ron found Mrs Ester McTavish… she's been cleaning a muggle school in Edinburgh, but using magic, and getting warnings from the Obliviators all the time." said Harry.
"Not Filch?" asked Daphne "That will be fantastic."
"Dr Filch is at the end of his tether" said Sarah "He can barely keep the paintings from deteriorating, and has to triage based on the more historically and artistically significant ones."
"Filch is an art expert, isn't he?" asked Harry.
"Well he knows the back-story of Every painting too. He's a font of art-history knowledge" said Sarah.
Harry grinned "Oh, I've found something other than lectures for History class."
"What?" asked Daphne.
"For every topic, I'd bet Filch knows a painting. We can go visit it, and Filch can explain"
"He hates children" hissed Daphne.
"He hates children for wrecking art" said Harry "He's strangely fond of me as Mr Slytherin."
"He um…" said Sarah "Children, leave the room! Fiona, take Delphini"
One the childrend were out of the room Sarah said "He's got this idea tat because Harry's Slytherin, he'll be allowed to start torturing students again. There are cells, did you know?"
"Did know" said Harry, nodding.
"Used in ninety-eight again to torture students." said Daphne "Death Eaters took over, it wasn't… nice."
Harry sat at the high table of Hogwarts in the robes Daphne had insisted he wear; she was sitting next to him in her green robe with the white trim.
Older students sloped in, and stared at the staff. Ester was on front door patrol with a battery of enchanted mops to keep dirt and water out. Filch, Dr Filch wanted the tiles in the front hallway protected; they were marble and prone to staining.
Once all the older students had arrived, Minerva… have to try to think of her as Minerva now, led in a line of tiny, big-eyed firsties in black conical hats. They seemed barely old enough to walk.
The sorting started, and The Sorting Hat sung a song. Daphne gripped Harry's arm tightly "Oh god. He's out of key" she groaned "I should never have come."
The song mentioned 'Better times ahead'. Harry hoped that was true. Delphini had been left at her 'grandparents' with Teddy. Andromeda was apparently working, and Cyrus was … well Erzabet wanted 'her' grandchildren around. The wait for food would have had Teddy and Delphini rampaging.
Once the firsties were sorted, Minerva took the sorting hat and stool, and put them on a staff-chair, and went to the golden lectern "You are all hungry, so let us break bread" said Minerva, and the tables- staff included were suddenly covered in a feast.
Harry started serving himself, rubbing the claw-wounds in his arm.
After the feast, Minerva went back to the Lectern.
"Now you're all fed, we've got a little business to attend to. First years, you will be following your prefects to your dormitories. They are wearing silver badges marked with the Letter P. The silver badges marked with the Letter C are quidditch captains. Try-outs will be next Saturday."
Harry smiled; quidditch was more important than many things to Minerva.
"We have staffing changes this year" said Minerva "Professor Binns is no longer teaching History."
Some wag called out "He Never Was!" to scattered giggles from the students.
"Quite" said Minerva thinly.
"Professor Slytherin, aka Harry Potter aka Harry Sytherin-Black-Potter will be teaching History of Magic. Professor?"
Harry stood up, and nodded. The Gryffindors and Slytherins cheered, then glared at each other.
"As Professor Slytherin is the current ahem Slytherin of Slytherin, whenever he enters Hogwarts a… Celtic war trumpet, Serpens sounds. It has no meaning apart from that."
"My ancestor was not a humble man" said Harry loudly.
"It's not a war trumpet" muttered Daphne.
"Professor Slytherin's wife, Mrs Slytherin is also here at Hogwarts. She is busy woman, and should be treated respectfully. Their small daughter, and godson are also going to be around some of the time. They are to be guided back to their suite by prefects, or failing that, any students wishing to curry favour with the Hogwarts board of Governors."
"Oder students will have seen that we have a new caretaker, Mrs Ester McTavish. Doctor Argus Filch will be continuing in his ORIGINAL role as head of art conservation at Hogwarts. DOCTOR Filch will have to move paintings as part of his work, with his assistant, Mrs Pottinger. Sarah stood up from the far end of the table, and said Loudly "IF ANY OF YOU VANDALS TOUCHES A PAINTING I WILL CURSE YOUR FINGERS OFF!"
"That will be all, Sarah" said Professor McGonagall. Harry looked down the table at Sarah who sneered in Harry's direction.
"Did you put her up to that?" Harry asked Daphne quietly.
"She ran it past me" said Daphne "I see her point, and Dr Filch's. Better the older students learn to fear the art conservation department, than have to mend damaged paintings. Maybe boys will stop groping the breasts of statues."
"And lastly, it is with regret that I announce that this will be Professor Slughorn;s last year here at Hogwarts." Slughorn, who must have upgraded his wardrobe to even fatter fitting, as his waistcoat wasn't stretched so tight, stood up and waved unsteadily. Harry blinked, 'old sluggy' was actually looking ill. Not just fat. Harry felt guilty about thinking he'd just go too fat for stairs.
"Now at this point we'll sing the school song. However, Senior Hogwarts management have prevailed uppn me, and the SCHOOL CHOIR, led by Professor Flitwick will be leading us."
Harry watched as a scattering of students from across all the tables came up to the front, where the firsties had been sorted, formed into lines under the direction of Professor Flitwick, who turned to the school "We'' just go through once, so you know how it goes" and the choir began to sing… The school song, but to an actual tune. They sang one verse, then Professor Flitwick jabbed his wand upwards, and with a flick that was far more complicated than Harry ever wanted to cast, shot glowing ribbon upwards, that rearranged itself in mid-air into the lyrics of the school song. Flitwick nodded to the choir, and pointed up with his off-hand – and a glowing ball appeared, bobbing over the first word 'Hogwarts'.
The school started to sing… accompanied by Daphne next to Harry and Harry decided after three words, that all being on the same tune was worth… buckets of gold.
The school, all singing nearly as one, ended the tune and Professor McGonagall nodded towards Harry, and Daphne nodded back… Harry turned quickly to Daphne who had a small smile.
"The sorting feast is over, we've sung the school song, students follow your prefects to your common rooms. Goodnight."
"Was that your idea?" asked Harry quietly.
"Good wasn't it" said Daphne.
"God, Dumbledore was a monster" sighed Harry "They liked singing it."
"Flitwick's wanted to do this since he started here" said Daphne. "Blocked by Dumbledore, then Snape."
Harry went to his suite, his wife's arm looped through his, and he got out of his robes, and crawled into bed.
Daphne slid in beside him "I'm so glad mummy agreed to keep them till tomorrow." she said.
"Imagine waking them up at this time of night?" asked Harry. "Ugh."
"Time to sleep, dear" said Daphne, kissing Harry's left temple.
Harry turned over in the bed and kissed Daphne's ear "Goodnight" he whispered.
Daphne came with Harry to breakfast, when she'd finished eggs and kippers, she said "I'm off to do tenant management for Daddy, I'll bring Delphini to dinner tonight" kissed his cheek, and left the Great hall.
Some wag in the student body wolf-whistled ,and Harry noticed boys eyeing his bloody wife as she walked out of the great hall in a quite plain robe.
"Harry my dear son" said Slughorn "Quite the lovely wife, A Slytherin alumnus, of course."
"That's coincidence , ...Horace" said Harry.
"Well about that" said Horace "We'll need a new head of house for Slytherin next year, obviously, and I was wondering, if as a favour to your old teacher?"
"I'll think about it" said Harry "I was a Gryffindor anyway."
"But your family" said Horace "I knew all along that Lily was special. But the cheeky blighter was the heir of Slytherin all along. Your little one will be a Slytherin, won't she?"
"I suspect Ravenclaw" said Harry, "loves to ask why."
Horace turned to Professor Flitwick and started talking about the choir last night… getting them to sing at Slug Club events.
Harry's stood a the teachers desk in the classroom next to Binn's old one. Binns was still in there, but didn't notice anyone anyway, so they'd just moved one classroom over to 4C. He took a deep breath, then ten calming breaths with eyes closed. His first class. First year history of magic, and the first years (Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and Hsarry suspected he'd been thrown an easy class there) were so tiny. They stared at Harry like mousies staring at Sunny.
"Welcome to History of Magic." said Harry. "I'm Professor Slytherin. Yes, my ancestor founded Hogwarts. When is an exam question this year."
The students stared at Harry.
"Get your quills, ink and parchment out, you're going to need to take notes" said Harry.
A hand lifted from a small blonde boy.
"Yes" said Harry.
"How do we take notes?" asked the boy. Harry tried to think about that question. Then realised they' never had a class at Hogwarts before.
"Right!" said Harry "Taking notes is NOT writing down everything I say." A small girl, fantastically writing, visibly slumped.
"Everyone write down, 'Exam question: When was Hogwarts founded' That's your first note."
The writing girl lifted her hand nervously.
"Yes?"
"Bibble, Melinda Bibble" said the little brown-haired girl.
"Miss Bibble ,your question?"
"Shouldn't we write down your name too?"
Harry tried not to snort. "Slytherin, the same as the house name."
"But aren't you Harry Slytherin Black Potter?" asked the girl.
"Okay, second note" said Harry "Why do some people have more than one surname?" The answer for this year is… there was a war and many people died, some families adopted godsons, like me, to keep their names alive. I'm a Slytherin because my mother was, and the last Slytherin of Slytherin died, leaving me the last adult in the family. That's an exam question in Seventh year, so don't worry about it."
"But you're a half-blood, with a muggle for a mother!" sneered a little blonde girl. Harry tried not to glare at her, she could be a tiny Daphne, with parents as stupid as Malfoys.
"Magical people are born from magical families" said Harry "A magical person and a muggle may have magical children, my mother was however, a 'muggle-born' Which just means her parents were squibs... who are magical people who lack enough of the genes to be fully magical. Squibs can mostly, it varies see magically hidden – muggle repelled things, like the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, use magical devices, and I'm told make some potions."
"So squibs can fly brooms?" asked the annoying little blonde girl Harry had mentally christened 'Malfoy two'.
"Some can" said Harry "It varies. I'm not an expert on magical blood inheritance... but the expert I talked to said there's more to it than," Harry counted on his fingers "Muggle, Squib or Magical."
"But that means muggleborns are the same as me!" said the little girl.
"Well, perhaps they know different things, Miss?"
"Parkinson, Dahlia Parkinson" said clearly a cousin of Pansy's.
"Ah, I know your cousin Pansy" said Harry "She's still dating Dean Thomas, isn't she?"
Dahlia blushed. "Yes" she said quietly.
"Dean Thomas is muggle-born, and was at school with me, he's an artist, and from what I hear makes Fantastic coffee." said Harry. "And got an order of Merlin, second class for his efforts in the war. Bibble… that's not a note."
Miss Bibble crossed out a line of writing.
Harry went to the blackboard and drew a line across it.
He put a mark at the left end, another at the right.
"Second blood war just ended" said Harry "1998, Seventh year, summary: my uncle pretended to be a pure-blood, lied a lot, and got an army of blood-purists to wage war on everyone, including themselves. He died. End of story." Harry wrote 1998 under the tick.
Harry put another tick right next to it "First blood war. My uncle… pretended to be a pure-blood, lied a lot, and got an army of blood-purists to wage war on everyone, including themselves. He tried to kill me as a baby, killed my family, he died, end of war" he wrote 1981 under it.
Bible had her hand up "Sir, if he died, wouldn't he be dead?"
"Good point Bibble. Nearly dead." said Harry "We'll cover the details in seventh year, except the bits that are horribly dark magic I certainly won't tell people about."
A small boy put his hand up "What's dark magic, sir."
"Mr?"
"Pink" whispered the boy.
"Mr Pink, That's a job of your Defence against the Dark arts teacher. But, because this is your first class. Dark Magic is magic that damages you for casting it, or that cannot be healed by magical means, so it's often used in wars by horrible people."
Harry pointed at his scarred forehead, "sort of a dark curse scar. I had one, and tried to get it removed. The operation went wrong, the scar was too big, and I got this dark scar instead. Dark magic often demands a sacrifice." Harry pulled up his sleeve and pointed at a puckered scar on his elbow "This one's a dark magic scar from a horribly dark ritual to put my uncle, Tom Riddle- he hated his surname too, Pink, he called himself Lord Voldemort, to put my uncle back into a full-grown body."
Harry slid his robe sleeve down, and looked at classroom of wide-eyed children.
"Like I said, seventh year" said Harry "That's dark magic. My friend George Weasley, owns a great joke shop had his ear cut off in the war, and it can't be grown back because? And this is one house point?"
Mr Pink put his hand up "Dark magic" said Mr Pink.
"One point to ?"
"Ravenclaw" said Mr Pink.
"One point to Ravenclaw" said Harry.
Harry pointed at the left hand tick "When did was magic first used by people?"
Bibble had her hand up.
"Bibble?" said Harry.
"Three hundred bc, with the invention of the wand?" asked Bibble.
"Good answer, wrong question "said Harry. "The question is ?"
"Now, this question is worth two house points. And anyone who kept their eyes open can answer this, you learnt it before school. How long have wands been a tool for magic? Anyone?"
A little girl had her hand up so earnestly, Harry picked her. "Surname?"
"Meeks, Jenny Meeks"
"And Wands since"?
"Since thee hundred and something BC"? Asked the girl "It was on the sign at Olivanders."
"Two points to Hufflepuff for saying where you got the fact from" said Harry "Now Roman style magical wands invented around four hundred BC. So, Twenty four hundred years of wands. Before that… staffs or staves. Longer, wider, heavier , harder to cast fiddly spells. There are many other kinds of foci for magic, and they aren't essential, more on that later."
The firsties stared at Harry intently. He asked a question, of a sort "Where does magic come from? No, you're not expected to know."
Harry drew a cloud around the timeline of magical inventions.
"Everywhere" said Harry.
"Now one of the core classes will teach you hands on, the first kind of magic ever known. Any guesses?"
"Is it potions?" asked a little dark haired boy "Dad says potions are the best."
"It is actually potions" said Harry "Or accidental magic… Hands up everyone who broke something with accidental magic?" Harry put his own hand up.
Not every hand went up.
"So my daughter and godson are special?" asked Harry "Accidental magic happens as a child, when you're upset, or otherwise feeling a strong emotion. One of my friends used to summon herself books from the shelf. Still does, but … more controlled. In Sixth year you'll learn to do spells silently, and in Seventh year, touch on doing magic without a wand. In other words, taking the accidental out of accidental magic. When the first person who could do magic did accidental magic, that was the beginning" said Harry "Best guess is about a hundred thousand years ago. Tiny problem," Harry put a tick on the line a quarter of the way along "Writing wasn't invented till three thousand years BC. Sumerian Runes. You can cover them in Ancient Runes class, an elective starting in third year. Until then, just oral culture. Telling people things, well and enchanted cave art."
"Enchanted cave art?" asked Parkinson.
"Apparently" said Harry. "Not going to be on the test, but good to know about."
Harry put a tick next to the one for writing "About thirty thousand BC."
"The spacing's not even" complained Bibble.
"If it was, all the good stuff would be one fat mark at the right end." said Harry. Harry wondered if he'd end up having to teach Percy's child.
"Second kind of magic was potions… and that's before writing" said Harry, putting a mark at the far left "There are magical plants that work used on their own. So as soon as someone used them, potions, or herbology at least. Both core subjects."
Harry put a mark just left of that "Next one, nobody's sure when, definitely by the eighth century BC, divination, again, an elective from third year , predicting things that haven't happened yet."
"Why don't we know when?" asked Bibble.
"Some people are born Seers" said Harry "Nobody sure when the first seer was born, but imagine you were primitive people, living in the forest or something, and one of the magical children is born and can tell … say where there's going to be animals to hunt. Obviously, their family at least, would flourish. "
"Is that real?" asked someone.
"Professor Trelwaney who teaches Divination is a Seer." said Harry "But only sometimes."
"Now… this brings up Family magic. Which is illegal to be forced to disclose under the family magic act of fifteen-fifteen." said Harry "Some families have special spells, potions or runes that only they know. They don't have to tell, and a few, like mine have odd magical talents. I can talk to snakes, Slytherin house, snakes. Technically it's called being a parselmouth, and the language is called parseltounge. Snakes before you ask, aren't very clever."
"Do you have a pet snake?" asked a dark haired boy who sounded like a pure-blood.
"I do. I have bite marks from where Sunny bit me before they were my friend."
"Isn't it a mark of being dark wizard" said the same boy.
"What defines dark magic?" Harry asked the boy.
"Whatever the ministry says" said the boy arrogantly.
"No that's what's prohibited. Dark magic is defined as?" asked Harry, calmly.
"Can't be cured, caused injures that can't be cured, injures you." said the little boy.
"Injures the caster" corrected Harry "Generally rots your brain. Dark blood magic can be used to do dreadful stuff, cures that pass on to all the Descendants of the victim."
"Serves them right" said someone.
"Whoever said that, detention" said Harry. He looked around the class "Won't admit to it? Coward. I met a family who had a dark curse on them. Cast so long ago, the entire family that cast it were extinct. The victims were born, they got sick early, they died young."
"Sounds like it worked" said a boy in the back row.
"One of the steps of the ritual to cast that curse" said Harry seriously "Was for the person doing the ritual to murder their own new-born child, and pour their blood into the cauldron." He looked at the boy "Name?"
"Nathaniel Travers" said Travers.
"One of those Travers" said Harry, and Travers frowned. "Imagine your parents get cross with someone, so they have a baby, wait nine months, your mum gives birth then your dad murders your baby brother, to cast a spell? Sounds sick."
"But the power it would give" said Tracers.
"Nobody cares" said Harry "The family that cast that curse died out. There's nobody to enjoy their several centuries of cruelty, and the Eveningshades" Travers flinched "Are boogeyman today. The curse, once cursebreakers worked out how, wasn't even that hard to remove. Took a day or so. Three days of cursebreaking… for revenge on something nobody can remember."
Harry looked at the class "Part of the problem with Dark magic" said Harry "Is that people doing it get angry all the time. Rots your brain, then makes you crazy, then, well, you end up doing ghastly things, getting arrested by Aurors, and going to Azkaban."
The class sat back.
"Trravers. One point for Ravenclaw, describe Azkaban?"
"It's the Prison" said Travers.
"Guarded by ?" asked Harry, gesturing in a circle.
"Dementors" said Travers.
"Which are?" asked Harry , gesturing in a circle.
"Bad things" said Travers.
"Spirits of suffering, Travers. Dementors grow from places where there's long term suffering by magical people, and suck the happiness out of you. Course if they grab you, they suck your soul out. Azkaban Prison uses them as guards."
"Wasn't that Erzkiddis" asked Bibble.
"Pish" said Harry "They're like… the huge, horrible anti-house elf."
"What's a house elf?" asked Pink.
"House elves" said Harry "PIPPIT?" called Harry, and with a pop, a house elf, wearing a tea-towel appeared.
"Pippit here is a Hogwarts house elf. The children need to know what house elf is, Pippit, can you tell them?"
Pippit shook their head. "Pippit cannot, Professor Snake" they squeaked.
"Sorry Pippit, please, go back to what you were doing?" said Harry, and the house elf vanished with a pop.
"That's a house elf. They work for wizards and witches in exchange for what?" asked Harry.
The children didn't answer. Travers lifted a hand "Somewhere to live."
Harry shrugged. "I had no idea till I asked an expert. Newt Scamander, who wrote the creatures textbook for care of magical creatures, en elective starting in third year. House-elves are magically created by, magical people living in a place for a long time. The um, aura of house-ness fills the space and you get ?"
"A house-elf" said little Mr Pink.
"Sadly you get a Brownie, which is like a wild house-elf, and they're a bit fiddly, so in eight hundred and forty-four AD, the house-elf was invented, which wraps a brownie in a homonculus, and stops it rampaging if you annoy it." Harry put a line on the blackboard, 844 and 'house elf.'
"Brownies like in Rupert" asked Bibble.
"I expect so" said Harry. "Mythologically, muggles know what a brownie is because given enough magical herbs or fungi, or conjunctions of leylines, you get brownies anyway. That gets messy and you also get will-o-the-wisps. Covered in Defence against the Dark Arts class because they can hurt you. A wild brownie is very dangerous when annoyed, House elves are fairly safe unless you mistreat them, then look out. They're brownies under the skin, and if they're ever freed… pow!"
"Freed?" asked Bibble, who really reminded Harry of a young Hermione. Only not as well-read, yet.
"Brownies will rampage if you give them payment for their work, or clothes, house elves are freed by their owners giving them clothes. Which generally makes them really unhappy, and there's nothing sadder than a poor little house elf with a broken heart." said Harry.
"But they're things?" asked Travers.
"Naturally occurring spirits of place." said Harry "Brownies are like wild magic working for you, but a house elf is more like a dog, domesticated, but not as stupid.
"Pippit talks" said Bibble.
"House elves can think." said Harry "They can feel, they can love, one was a good friend. A bit weird, he was free and just broken enough to never want to be owned again… like a dog from the animal shelter. Dobby was a good elf." said Harry.
"So they're slaves" said Bibble "That's disgusting"?
"Imagine talking lighting" said Harry "Then you use it as electricity?" That's a house elf. To all the muggleborns, House elves are like… robot servants that can teleport. Very handy and also really expensive. People that mistreat them are stupid, as they're putting the brownie offside. You should think of house-elves as brownies with safety belts on. And Dementors, in comparison make terrible guards. They guarded Hogwarts for a year, and everyone had a horrible time, nightmares, and didn't even catch who they were looking for. Nearly killed a few innocent people."
"Note Ekrizdis domesticated the Dementor in the fifteenth century. Not very domesticated, they eat people. Well their souls."
Harry put a mark on the right end of the line and numbered it 1945. "Now, question with two answers, both right and both wrong. What war ended in nineteen forty-five"?
Hands went up all over the calssroom.
Harry pointed to a random Hufflepuff boy.
"The second world war" said the boy.
"Good answer , one point to Hufflepuff!" said Harry cherrfully.
And to a Ravenclaw girl looking excited he pointed "And?"
"Grindewald's war!" she said
"Good answer, one point to Ravenclaw." said Harry.
"How can it be both?" asked Travers, looking really confused. Maybe Harry could shake the little berk out of being one of those Travers, into being a nromal human being, Harry thought. All the children in the room starred at Harry, and his leg jiggled itself. Better keep going.
"Grindelwald helped the muggle country of Germany wage war" said Harry "Statute of Secrecy? A date anyone?"
"Sixteen ninety two" said a little Ravenclaw girl.
"One point to Ravenclaw" said Harry "For those who ignored the textbook, it was the most interesting one I could find, The international confederation of wizards – ICW, lots it witches in it, don't worry, instigated the statute in Sixteen ninety-two to separate, permanently magical from non-magical people. There were witch burnings going on earlier – mostly witches, though the victims tended to be muggles and children, and everyone had had enough. Populations of muggles were rising, and I expect neighbours kept asking for potions day out and day in. So… statute in the seventeenth century.
A wizard called Gellert Grindelwald went to Durmstrang – a school in Europe, got expelled for being a dark magic loving git, and went to England, got a boyfriend, and made plans. They had an argument, the boyfriend's sister died, and so did their love." said Harry.
"Grindelwald's war ended when Professor Dumbledore, a Transfiguration professor her e at Hogwarts, though he was Headmaster later, was dragged out of Hogwarts by the ICW and sent to fight Grindelwald. Huge duel, Grindelwald imprisoned in his own fortress. He was murdered during the second blood way by?" Harry paused. "Anyone guess?"
"Your uncle?" asked Pink.
"Yes" said Harry "Good guess."
"So, let's take a quick look at magical travel" said Harry.
Harry put a mark on the line a little before 3600BC , and labelled it 4500BC "Invention of the flying carpet. Still illegal in England, made illegal in the nineteenth century. Legal almost everywhere else, propping up the big broom lobby."
Harry put mark at about fifteen hundred "Fifteen eighty, invention of the flying broom. Quidditch needed better than just flying tree-branches, and brooms were easier to hide from muggles. Or the near-squibs would pinch them I suppose." Harry added.
Then Harry put a mark at the far left "Apparation. Moving yourself magically from place to place, skipping the boring bit in the middle. Blocked at Hogwarts, you can't do it here. You'll learn how to do it safely once you're sixteen, there's a trainign course here at Hogwarts. Sometimes done by children as accidental magic. Oldest form of magical transport"
Harry turned to the class "And one last one… for today" Harry put mark on the line around thirteen forty "Floo powder. Invented by Ingatia Wildsmith, very handy during witch burnings, people sewed it into their robe hems. Throw some in a fire, it goes green, to go where you want to. These days connected to the Floo Network, so you can travel by saying the named address of where you want to go. You can also stick your head in the fire and talk to the other end."
"That's magical travel – you'll find we've used magical creatures that fly to get around too, but that's a Care of Magical Craetures lesson, third year elective." said Harry.
"Now take not of this" said Harry.
"Homework, read the first chapter of Waffling – Magical Theory, and three inches on where magic comes from. One bonus question will be asked next lesson: What means of magical transport did I leave out? When was it invented?"
The students left, chattering. Bibble gave Harry a shy wave. Travers looked interested despite himself.
At the back of the classroom Minerva McGonagall appeared from the shadows.
"Well done Potter. A first lesson. A little exciting, and all over the place but at least they're excited about history of magic, not asleep." she said.
"Slytherin" said Harry. "My wife insists. Rank order or something."
"I would have thought Greengrass came first then?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"Well most of the time yes" said Harry rather blandly. Minerva put her hand over her mouth.
-==0==-
Delphini liked Hogwarts. Which was good. She kept to the suite and was often at both Adnromeda's and the Greengrasses. Which was convenient, as Daphne was working for her father most of the time.
Harry did actually get Hermione and Ron to help mark essays every few weeks for a bit of a laugh, with Daphne sitting quietly marking next to Harry, with the model answers.
Filch.. Dr Filch didn't get any kinder, but many paintings got cleaned, which made them brighter to look at. Sarah evidently enjoyed the work, and was learning a lot about restoration.
Harry had no idea who would replace Slughorn, but Minerva stopped asking at board of governors meetings.
And the Seventh year History class, all six of them, asked ugly war-related questions Harry had to just answer with "If I told you, the ministry would just obliviate you anyway."
Slughorn insisted on inviting Harry and Daphne to his November Slug Club meeting.
Daphne wore a blue dress robe, and shoved Harry into his best robe, and snakeskin trainers. Then picked up Sunny put her around Harry's neck. "Now you're dressed."
"What if Sunny gets bored" said Harry.
"Sunny is a snake" said Daphne. "I'm' sure Sunny would rather get carried by you than hugged like a sausage by Delphini."
Harry didn't recognise many people, Gwenog Jones for one, and then, Sanguini. Harry was re-introduced to the vampire.
"Hello Sanguini" said Harry "Good to see you again"
"Mr Potter, now Sytherin" said Sanguini "Beautiful little Snake, delicious looking woman?"
"My wife, Daphne Slytherin" said Harry.
"Delighted" said Sanguini, bowing.
"How have you been?" asked Harry.
"Hard times in Europe this past five years. Many vampire hunters, few Aurors to stop them." said Sanguini, taking a blood pop out of his pocket unwrapping it and sucking on it while staring at Daphne's neck.
"Excuse me Mrs Slytherin" said Sanguini "But you look a little familiar?"
"My mother was a Bathory" said Daphne.
"Oh, Erzabet's brood" said Sanguini, chuckling "She was such a bitch. There wasn't any virgins blood anywhere in Romania"
"My mother is named after her" said Daphne with a sharp smile.
"Oh, how adorable" said Sanguini.
"Why virgins blood?" asked Harry.
Sanguini looked a little embarrassed "Well, would you eat a sandwich someone had done it with?"
Daphne elbowed Harry, snorting. "Thank you Sanguini" said Daphne. "Everyone takes my husband so seriously."
"Well you know, that was a pretty terrible dark lord" said Sanguini. "I hear you were his relative… surnames are such fickle things."
"On both sides of my family, Mother and Father" said Harry.
"Oh that's hysterical" said Sanguini , sounding unmoved "Your mothers family?"
"Slytherins via a long line of squibs" said Harry.
"Oh, how unlucky for all those squibs" said Sanguini "Still, It's good to sit a big old family vault."
Harry smiled woodenly.
Daphne pulled Harry away to meet some 'well connected' students, who braved talking to a professor and his wife well.
Harry had to set exams for first, second, third, fourth and sixth year. That had to work towards OWLs and NEWTs. It ate up all the time he wasn't using teaching, leaning the bits he didn't know, patrolling the halls of Hogwarts on a roster, and marking assingments. It felt, Harry thought, like a job. Less getting murdered than being an Auror, but quite a bit of cheek from surly teenagers.
