Disclaimer: I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.
Serpens Erus Temptatio
"Serpent Lord's Temptation"
Chapter 2 – Make This LifeRap-a-tap. Tap.
"Uhn." The dark head lifted from where it was buried face down in a pillow and glowered at the far wall. "Don't tell me…"
Rap-a-tap-a-tap. Tap! Tap!"Bloody bollocks," grumbled the man, sitting up. He swung his legs down to the floor, wincing slightly as his bare feet touched cold stone. Cursing softly, he groped for the pair of slippers that had been there before he'd fallen asleep but were now missing in action. Probably the damned cat.
Still cursing, he rose and stormed from the bedroom, trailing the topmost sheet behind him as he tucked it about his bare torso. Walking to the heavy oak door, he unlocked it and threw it open, scowling out from under dark bangs at whoever it was that had disturbed his sleep.
McGonagall blinked slightly at the disheveled young man standing in front of her then recovered her composure and said, "Good morning, Harry."
"What's good about it?" growled the young man.
"It's your first day as a professor. Be happy."
Harry snorted and let go of the sheet clutched about his torso to flick his fingers absently in the air. "I am not in a particularly happy mood, professor," growled he. "Particularly because I was awoke by a certain someone banging on my door." He glowered meaningfully at her here, reminding the older witch far too much of Severus on his first day as a professor.
The sheet draped haphazardly over the young wizard's broad shoulders abruptly slipped, revealing a dark, ugly scar that ripped across his stomach. McGonagall found her eyes drawn to the horrid wound, which had been made by Aubrey during the last battle in the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was the wound that had nearly killed the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry seemed to notice her scrutiny and pulled the sheet about him again, glowering darkly at her. He glanced at the wizarding version of a Muggle grandfather clock that resided in his rooms then fixed a glare on his old Head of House.
"It's…four…in…the…bloody…morning."
"Ah, monosyllabic and glaring evilly," said McGonagall with a smile. "Have you been taking lessons from Severus?"
Harry growled in the back of his throat and started to close the door. McGonagall placed a hand on it and he stopped, frowning at her. Her expression was now once of concern.
"Are you alright?" she asked, the same sort of motherly tone in her voice that was always in Molly Weasley's.
Harry nodded and replied, "Why shouldn't I be?"
"You know why."
"I'm perfectly fine, professor. Perturbed at the moment, but fine. Now…may I please get some more sleep before I must bury myself in the horror of an actual job?"
McGonagall smiled and nodded, dropping her hand from the door.
"Thank you," said Harry, closing the door a little harder that was needed. McGonagall sighed as she heard the lock click and turned to walk back towards her office. On the walk there, she wondered if she had done wisely to ask Harry to take the job of both Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and Head of Slytherin House. Both places of authority had seemed to be cursed since Severus had been reverted to his fifteen-year-old self. Much like before with the DADA position, no Head of Slytherin House ever stayed Head for more than a year. Only one had made it more than one year and that had been Professor Vector. He had only made it by sheer stubbornness.
But it wasn't just the jobs she'd given him that bothered the older witch. She was not worried that he would shirk his duties or wouldn't teach the students what they needed to know. Having known the young man since he was eleven, she knew that Harry had never done less than what he needed to. But she wasn't worried about him doing his job. She was worried that his memories of certain…events…in and about the castle would keep him from doing his job.
But perhaps she was just worrying herself.
"First class: fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors…" Harry stared at the sheet of paper lying on his desk for a moment before he tilted his head backwards and looked up at the ceiling. "Someone up there hates me, don't they?"
"Uncle?"
"Tris?" Harry frowned at his godson as the eleven-year-old eased into the classroom. "Shouldn't you be at breakfast?"
"Shouldn't you?" shot the young wizard back. Harry chuckled and propped his elbows on the edge of his desk.
"Dobby was kind enough to bring me something this morning. I trust you did at least get some food from the Great Hall?"
"Er…"
Harry sighed and shook his head, saying, "Tristen, what am I going to do with you? Dobby!"
The house-elf appeared with a loud crack!, his tea cozy fixed lopsidedly upon his head. He bounced slightly and chirped, "Harry Potter wants something?"
"Could you bring a bit of breakfast for my young friend here?" asked Harry, smiling cordially at the house-elf. "And a bit of pumpkin juice."
"Two goblets?" questioned the elf, causing Harry to ponder for a moment. He then nodded and Dobby snapped to attention. "Dobby will get breakfast for the young sir, Harry Potter, sir!" The elf disappeared with another loud crack! and Tristen frowned at his godfather.
"Mum wouldn't be happy with you for that."
Harry sighed at that comment.
"Hermione knows very well how Dobby is. She'll forgive me. Now where did that bloody ledger go?" Harry pawed at the papers covering his desk for a moment before he found what he was looking for. A second later, a tray of food appeared on the edge of his desk, a pitcher of pumpkin juice and two pewter goblets popping into existence beside it.
Tristen blinked and said, "He's fast."
"That he is," agreed Harry, flipping the ledger open as he reached out to pour himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "C'mon, now, and eat a bit of this wonderful breakfast before I am forced to eat it myself."
Tristen grinned and crossed the room, dragging a chair up close to his godfather's desk.
"Where's that cat of yours, by the way?"
"In my room," replied Tristen, nibbling on a piece of toast. "At least I think she is."
Harry chuckled and said, "I have the same doubts about Medusa. Though I fear she is in my rooms and has stolen my slippers for her own."
Tristen laughed then looked at his watch and cursed, causing Harry to give him a stern look.
"What would your mother do if she heard you talking that way?"
"You and Da do," said Tristen as he rose from his seat, pushing it back into the place it was before.
"That's different. Dobby, I believe we're done." The tray disappeared and Harry turned to Tristen, saying, "Alright then. Off to your first class then."
Tristen nodded and said, "See you Thursday, Uncle."
Harry smiled and nodded in response, watching the boy as he left. He then frowned at his cluttered desk and swept his hand over it. Instantly everything was in order and he smirked in success..
A second later the room was full of fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherin's and the teaching day had begun. The students all jammed in, most of them talking excitedly about having the Harry Potter teaching them. Harry smiled slightly and waited until they had all sat down before he stood up.
"Good morning, class. I'm certain introductions aren't needed for me, but we're going to do them anyway. My name is Harry Potter, which is Professor Potter to all of you. Now…please answer 'yes' when I call out your name."
He trailed down the list of names, getting 'here' and 'aye' but no 'yes'. Smirking mentally, he wondered if any of them were going to get it.
The last person on the list did.
"Young, William."
"Yes," said the teenager, his dark eyes twinkling. Harry glanced at the boy's crest and smirked.
Of course it would be a Slytherin that got it.
"Five points to Slytherin, Mister Young."
"What!" exclaimed a Gryffindor on the other side of the room. "Why does he get points?"
"Because he," purred Harry, fixing his eyes on the young wizard, "answered in the form that I wished you all too."
The Gryffindor scowled at him and muttered, "Git."
"What was that, Mister…" Harry glanced down at the ledger then back up at the boy. "McKinnon, is it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now, Mister McKinnon, is it polite to call your professor's 'gits'?"
McKinnon's cheeks flushed pink and Harry chuckled. He said, "I am tempted to take points but since I myself called a certain professor that same thing one too many times behind his back, I won't." Just as the Gryffindor started to sigh in relief, he leaned forward on his desk and locked eyes with him. "But if I ever hear it or any other slander referred to me – or any other professor – in my presence again, five points shall be taken. From whatever House it may be." He glanced meaningfully at the Slytherin's here.
"Now, your last professor seemed to have been a bit…eccentric."
"Eccentric, my arse," muttered McKinnon, causing Harry to eye the fifteen-year-old.
"Mister McKinnon, even ex-professors are included in my statement."
"Yes, sir."
"Very good. Now…I see your last professor – Professor…Tribear? Tribeau? Oh, forget it… – your last professor covered a small amount of things with you. Grindylows, Hinkypunk's, Kappa's…even Werewolves. But not curses, I see."
The entire Slytherin side of the room perked up at that. Harry smiled at them then continued on flipping through the notes McGonagall had given him.
"Nothing much here. So, the first thing we shall be covering this year will be…" He paused for dramatic effect and was pleased to see several students leaning towards him. Smirking mentally, he waited a few more seconds before finishing his sentence.
"Dementors."
One of the girl's in the room gasped and a Gryffindor near the front asked in a hushed tone, "Sir, are we ready for something like that?"
Harry smiled and replied, "I faced off Dementors in my third year. Its good to know the charm required to fend them off."
"Does anyone know anything about Dementors?"
Several hands raised and Harry glanced at the ledger before he called on anyone.
"Miss…Marley?"
A girl on the Slytherin side with strawberry blonde hair smirked at those around her then said, "Dementors used to be the wardens of Azkaban before Voldemort called them to join his army. Most of them were destroyed in the last battle of the war."
"Thank you, Miss Marley," said Harry, shoving his memories of that last battle into a room in the back of his mind and slamming the door shut as they threatened to roll forward like a tidal wave and crush him. "Five points to Slytherin. Now, can anyone tell me something else about Dementors?"
More hands raised and Harry picked out a Gryffindor this time.
"Mister Abrams?"
The sandy-haired young wizard grinned and spoke, his Irish accent reminding Harry of Seamus.
"Dementors are famous for delivering the Dementor's Kiss to victims."
"And what does the Kiss do?" asked Harry.
"They suck out the victim's soul, sir."
"Very good. Five points to Gryffindor. Can anyone tell me the charm to dispel a Dementor?"
Only one hand raised this time and it was that of a Gryffindor sitting at the back of the room. Harry nodded at them, trying to remember their name.
"Expecto Patronum is the incantation used to fend off a Dementor. It is called the Patronus Charm and requires a happy memory for it to work. Not many can make it work to its full potential, which can completely destroy a Dementor."
"Thank you, Mister…Nocens." Harry arched an eyebrow at the boy's full name. Atra Nocens, he thought to himself. Dark Evil. How…pleasant. "Five points to Gryffindor."
"Now, all of you get out your wands and have a try at the Patronus Charm. Remember to focus on a happy memory. Not all memories work and even if you do succeed, without a Dementor your Patronus will not be very clear." Harry swept his gaze over the class as he added, "I doubt many of you will be able to conjure more than mist. Let's see if a few of you can prove me wrong."
Harry drew his own wand and said, "Before you begin, I'll give you a sample of what a real Patronus looks like. Pay attention now." He sighed and closed his eyes, focusing on one of the few happy memories he still had. It was the first day of his seventh year, when Ginny had thrown herself onto him as they stood on the Hogsmeade Platform. That was one of the few memories he still had of Ginny that hadn't been tainted by gore and blood.
Opening his eyes, he pointed his wand at the wall and snapped, "Expecto Patronum!"
The silver stag erupted from his wand, cantering about the room as it saw no Dementors there to fight off. Its coat shined silver as it trotted about him in a circle before it went sniffing at the Slytherin side of the room. The girl in the front row squealed and jerked back but the boy sitting beside her reached out and passed his hand through the silvery nose.
"Wicked."
Harry smiled and looked sideways at the stag as it dissipated into nothingness. He then turned to the class and said, "Now, try it on your own. Remember, happy memory first, incantation second."
He then moved back behind his desk and sat down to watch his class.