Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything affiliated with Harry
Potter. J.K. Rowling has that honor.
Author's Notes: This story is set 8 years after Harry's seventh year, and after the final battle with Voldemort. As a result, you may notice some cannon characters are not here. I figure, as they had fought a war, several characters most likely would have been killed, or imprisoned. These characters if not revealed in this first chapter, will be in later chapters. Also, please not, four (maybe five) original characters will make appearances in later chapters. Also, please forgive any discrepancies with the storyline. I will try to stay true to the books, (and, in some cases, the movies), but like most readers, many details in this story is based on how my own mind perceived and translated the words from page to imagination.
Warning: This story does contain slash. M/M relationships. (Most of my stories do to some extent). Couples in this story include: HG/RW, HP/OW, GW/NL, and implied AD/MM. Any other couples to appear, I will make reference to in here.
Please, leave your reviews in the nice box, and enjoy! (ps- just, ps.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------
". . .it's "welcome back"/To the ruck of well-wishing cards/All this talk of incendaries in documentaries, chat shows, signing books/Well it beats despatches and selling matches/And writing to...(why, oh why, oh why?). . ." -Eastfield, Weston Super Scare
Chapter One: Welcome Back
This week's password was 'Canary Cream'. Of course, the young man already knew this. When he had first received the owl from Dumbledore three days earlier, along with the request to come to a meeting at Hogwart's, was the password to the headmaster's office, written in postscript. He had, of course, owled his acceptance almost immediately, although not without wondering why Dumbledore had asked for him. Since graduating from Hogwarts, he had all but officially retired from the Wizarding world, returning to his mother's motherland of Greece for a four year spell, leaving only to spend some time in his Italian paterland, before settling in Northern Ireland, where he now lived. He had purposely lost touch with his fellow Slytherins, as well as the few friends he had made in seventh year from other houses. Since graduating, his only friends were a Christmas cactus he had named Archimedes, and had charmed into talking, and his quill pens. For, he was a writer. More specifically, he was a children's book writer revered by Muggle and Wizarding families alike. That in itself, he knew, was odd.
From what he had seen since arriving at the castle, Hogwarts had changed very little. The Headmaster's office too had changed very little from the times he had spent there, living up to his Slytherin name, having tormented teachers and students alike. But perhaps, the Headmaster had changed; rumor had it he had never quite fully recovered from Minerva McGonagall's death after the war, for rumor had had it, that he and the former Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Headmistress had been involved in an affair since certainly before his time, and even before his parents' times.
Nervous suddenly, he followed Dumbledore's suggestion that he sit, and from the habit he had developed from book signings, his fingers tensely straightened the folds of his dress robe. He felt the portrait eyes on him, surely mocking him, silently asking why he had returned after so many years.
"I suppose you must know why I sent for you today," Dumbledore spoke.
"No, sir, I don't."
Dumbledore frowned. "Lemondrop?" he offered, but the young man shook his head. Dumbledore nodded tersely, and he unwrapped one candy for himself. "You are a very gifted writer. I fear I am guilty of watching your progress very closely since your graduation from Hogwarts. I have to say, I was very surprised to hear you were writing children books."
"You, along with everyone else, sir." The young man shrugged. He could not keep the wry smile from his face. "I suppose I have simply mellowed, sir, in the last eight years."
"I should only hope so. I think we all have mellowed since the last battle. I know I have." The Headmaster's eyes briefly looked heartbroken, but he quickly blinked it away, his expression almost immediately replaced by his usual twinkle. "But, never mind about that now."
The young man nodded; he was unsure of what to say. He had heard, of course, of Professor McGonagall's faith, all the Wizarding world had. Having never quite recovered from her St. Mungo stay from the time Umbridge had stunned her, her body had still been weakened when she had insisted upon fighting in the last uprising against Voldemort. She had slipped behind the veil, while Dumbledore had held her wounded body in his arms, but she had kept her spirit and her wit to the end, it was said.
"Yes, Professor," he managed to spit out.
Dumbledore watched him for several more seconds, before he asked, "Now back to business. I assume, you have heard we currently have an opening for the position of History of Magic Professor?"
"I think I remember hearing something about that, yes. But what did happen exactly to Professor Binns, sir?"
"It seems Professor Binns placed a winning bet on an outcome with Peeves, and he won. Needless to say, Peeves was quite distraught, caused little havoc for several weeks," he paused to shake his head, "and our dear Professor took off for the Caribbean. Seems he wanted to spend the remainder of his after-life away from students, and living it in style. Between you and me, "Dumbledore leaned conspiratorially over his desk, "I say good riddance. His teaching style has been the same since I was a student here!" The young man laughed, and Dumbledore paused again, while he took cracked a smile. "Now, if I remember correctly," he continued, "History of Magic was your best subject. Received top marks in your year."
"Yes, sir, I did." He straightened some in his chair.
"Well, do you or don't you?"
"Do, sir?"
"Want to teach History of Magic here? Of course, you will only be an interim professor, as the school year has already commenced, but I see no reason why we would not hire you full-time for next year. Should all go well this year."
"Teach here?" he exclaimed, for he could not believe this stroke of luck. "But, of course, I would love to! Only. . . I. . . just. . ." The young man's gaze dropped to his lap. He noticed his fingers had gathered his robe in nervous bunches. "I'm. . . a. . ."
"Yes?" Dumbledore prodded gently.
He could feel the Headmaster's searching gaze on him. He probably already knows, he thought to himself, seeing as he knows everything anyway. The young man sighed. "Seven years ago, not long after I first arrived in Greece, I had gone to visit the Parthenon, and the Acropolis. Really quite a remarkable structure, but I was more interested in the magic history the Ancient Greeks had built the structure upon? Athena's statue built within the ancient temple, legend says she was able to come to life at night, and that she held council meeting of Greece's most powerful witches and wizards." He sighed again. "Did you know that, professor?"
"No, I didn't."
The young man nodded, again. "One of the nearby residents warned me not to stray too close to the area after dark. That within the last few years, a pack of werewolves had made their residence in the sanctuary of the temple. Instinctively, they must have known, they could not be killed on the ancient Holy Ground. But I didn't listen, and I visited the night of the full moon. . ." He paused himself again, and he looked to the Headmaster, but Dumbledore said nothing. "I was bit, on my lower leg, and again, on my left shoulder. I probably would have died, had the same resident found me, and helped to nurse my wounds. I learned later, he was a Squib. . ."
Dumbledore remained silent for a long time. This young man before him had changed greatly since his time at Hogwarts. Then, he had been a young troublemaker, a leader only second to one amongst the Slytherins. But, he had been the brains, that quiet force, everyone knows is there, but sometimes everyone forgets. And, now here he was, speaking calmly of an experience Dumbledore could only assume must have been nightmarish, as if one was speaking of the weather; to turn that experience into something positive, and to find a creative outlet.
"I think we can come to an agreement," he finally spoke. "We still have the Whomping Willow and her passageway from a previous student's time here."
"Remus Lupin, sir?" he asked quietly.
Dumbledore was surprised how easily the sympathetic smile rose to his face. "Yes, Remus Lupin. And, of course, we also have a highly qualified Potions Master to mix you a Wolfsbane potion every month."
"Professor Snape, I assume, sir?"
"No, I fear Severus Snape too, no longer teaches here. Draco Malfoy has overtook the position." The young man was startled to hear his old school mate's name, and he looked up, looking straight into the Headmaster's eyes. He noticed the Headmaster did not flinch. "Do we have a deal then," Dumbledore asked, "Mr. Zabini?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He nodded both grateful and relieved. He rose to shook Dumbledore's hand. "I will not let you down."
"Good," Dumbledore smiled. "Welcome back. Only, Blaise," here his eyes twinkled again, "it is really not necessary for you to call me Sir. I think Albus would do very nicely."
Author's Notes: This story is set 8 years after Harry's seventh year, and after the final battle with Voldemort. As a result, you may notice some cannon characters are not here. I figure, as they had fought a war, several characters most likely would have been killed, or imprisoned. These characters if not revealed in this first chapter, will be in later chapters. Also, please not, four (maybe five) original characters will make appearances in later chapters. Also, please forgive any discrepancies with the storyline. I will try to stay true to the books, (and, in some cases, the movies), but like most readers, many details in this story is based on how my own mind perceived and translated the words from page to imagination.
Warning: This story does contain slash. M/M relationships. (Most of my stories do to some extent). Couples in this story include: HG/RW, HP/OW, GW/NL, and implied AD/MM. Any other couples to appear, I will make reference to in here.
Please, leave your reviews in the nice box, and enjoy! (ps- just, ps.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------
". . .it's "welcome back"/To the ruck of well-wishing cards/All this talk of incendaries in documentaries, chat shows, signing books/Well it beats despatches and selling matches/And writing to...(why, oh why, oh why?). . ." -Eastfield, Weston Super Scare
Chapter One: Welcome Back
This week's password was 'Canary Cream'. Of course, the young man already knew this. When he had first received the owl from Dumbledore three days earlier, along with the request to come to a meeting at Hogwart's, was the password to the headmaster's office, written in postscript. He had, of course, owled his acceptance almost immediately, although not without wondering why Dumbledore had asked for him. Since graduating from Hogwarts, he had all but officially retired from the Wizarding world, returning to his mother's motherland of Greece for a four year spell, leaving only to spend some time in his Italian paterland, before settling in Northern Ireland, where he now lived. He had purposely lost touch with his fellow Slytherins, as well as the few friends he had made in seventh year from other houses. Since graduating, his only friends were a Christmas cactus he had named Archimedes, and had charmed into talking, and his quill pens. For, he was a writer. More specifically, he was a children's book writer revered by Muggle and Wizarding families alike. That in itself, he knew, was odd.
From what he had seen since arriving at the castle, Hogwarts had changed very little. The Headmaster's office too had changed very little from the times he had spent there, living up to his Slytherin name, having tormented teachers and students alike. But perhaps, the Headmaster had changed; rumor had it he had never quite fully recovered from Minerva McGonagall's death after the war, for rumor had had it, that he and the former Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Headmistress had been involved in an affair since certainly before his time, and even before his parents' times.
Nervous suddenly, he followed Dumbledore's suggestion that he sit, and from the habit he had developed from book signings, his fingers tensely straightened the folds of his dress robe. He felt the portrait eyes on him, surely mocking him, silently asking why he had returned after so many years.
"I suppose you must know why I sent for you today," Dumbledore spoke.
"No, sir, I don't."
Dumbledore frowned. "Lemondrop?" he offered, but the young man shook his head. Dumbledore nodded tersely, and he unwrapped one candy for himself. "You are a very gifted writer. I fear I am guilty of watching your progress very closely since your graduation from Hogwarts. I have to say, I was very surprised to hear you were writing children books."
"You, along with everyone else, sir." The young man shrugged. He could not keep the wry smile from his face. "I suppose I have simply mellowed, sir, in the last eight years."
"I should only hope so. I think we all have mellowed since the last battle. I know I have." The Headmaster's eyes briefly looked heartbroken, but he quickly blinked it away, his expression almost immediately replaced by his usual twinkle. "But, never mind about that now."
The young man nodded; he was unsure of what to say. He had heard, of course, of Professor McGonagall's faith, all the Wizarding world had. Having never quite recovered from her St. Mungo stay from the time Umbridge had stunned her, her body had still been weakened when she had insisted upon fighting in the last uprising against Voldemort. She had slipped behind the veil, while Dumbledore had held her wounded body in his arms, but she had kept her spirit and her wit to the end, it was said.
"Yes, Professor," he managed to spit out.
Dumbledore watched him for several more seconds, before he asked, "Now back to business. I assume, you have heard we currently have an opening for the position of History of Magic Professor?"
"I think I remember hearing something about that, yes. But what did happen exactly to Professor Binns, sir?"
"It seems Professor Binns placed a winning bet on an outcome with Peeves, and he won. Needless to say, Peeves was quite distraught, caused little havoc for several weeks," he paused to shake his head, "and our dear Professor took off for the Caribbean. Seems he wanted to spend the remainder of his after-life away from students, and living it in style. Between you and me, "Dumbledore leaned conspiratorially over his desk, "I say good riddance. His teaching style has been the same since I was a student here!" The young man laughed, and Dumbledore paused again, while he took cracked a smile. "Now, if I remember correctly," he continued, "History of Magic was your best subject. Received top marks in your year."
"Yes, sir, I did." He straightened some in his chair.
"Well, do you or don't you?"
"Do, sir?"
"Want to teach History of Magic here? Of course, you will only be an interim professor, as the school year has already commenced, but I see no reason why we would not hire you full-time for next year. Should all go well this year."
"Teach here?" he exclaimed, for he could not believe this stroke of luck. "But, of course, I would love to! Only. . . I. . . just. . ." The young man's gaze dropped to his lap. He noticed his fingers had gathered his robe in nervous bunches. "I'm. . . a. . ."
"Yes?" Dumbledore prodded gently.
He could feel the Headmaster's searching gaze on him. He probably already knows, he thought to himself, seeing as he knows everything anyway. The young man sighed. "Seven years ago, not long after I first arrived in Greece, I had gone to visit the Parthenon, and the Acropolis. Really quite a remarkable structure, but I was more interested in the magic history the Ancient Greeks had built the structure upon? Athena's statue built within the ancient temple, legend says she was able to come to life at night, and that she held council meeting of Greece's most powerful witches and wizards." He sighed again. "Did you know that, professor?"
"No, I didn't."
The young man nodded, again. "One of the nearby residents warned me not to stray too close to the area after dark. That within the last few years, a pack of werewolves had made their residence in the sanctuary of the temple. Instinctively, they must have known, they could not be killed on the ancient Holy Ground. But I didn't listen, and I visited the night of the full moon. . ." He paused himself again, and he looked to the Headmaster, but Dumbledore said nothing. "I was bit, on my lower leg, and again, on my left shoulder. I probably would have died, had the same resident found me, and helped to nurse my wounds. I learned later, he was a Squib. . ."
Dumbledore remained silent for a long time. This young man before him had changed greatly since his time at Hogwarts. Then, he had been a young troublemaker, a leader only second to one amongst the Slytherins. But, he had been the brains, that quiet force, everyone knows is there, but sometimes everyone forgets. And, now here he was, speaking calmly of an experience Dumbledore could only assume must have been nightmarish, as if one was speaking of the weather; to turn that experience into something positive, and to find a creative outlet.
"I think we can come to an agreement," he finally spoke. "We still have the Whomping Willow and her passageway from a previous student's time here."
"Remus Lupin, sir?" he asked quietly.
Dumbledore was surprised how easily the sympathetic smile rose to his face. "Yes, Remus Lupin. And, of course, we also have a highly qualified Potions Master to mix you a Wolfsbane potion every month."
"Professor Snape, I assume, sir?"
"No, I fear Severus Snape too, no longer teaches here. Draco Malfoy has overtook the position." The young man was startled to hear his old school mate's name, and he looked up, looking straight into the Headmaster's eyes. He noticed the Headmaster did not flinch. "Do we have a deal then," Dumbledore asked, "Mr. Zabini?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He nodded both grateful and relieved. He rose to shook Dumbledore's hand. "I will not let you down."
"Good," Dumbledore smiled. "Welcome back. Only, Blaise," here his eyes twinkled again, "it is really not necessary for you to call me Sir. I think Albus would do very nicely."