Harry potter
And
The Order of the Crimson Eye
Chapter One: Invitations
"Potter! Office! Now!" Alastor Moody bellowed.
Twenty-two year old Harry Potter jerked to full alertness, afraid that the senior Auror had noticed him dozing off at his desk. Even though Moody was in his office, that meant little; his magical eye was not at all bound by minor obstructions, such as walls. He could tell that his superior was in a sour mood judging from his tendency to abandon things such as verbs when angry.
Nervously, Harry stood up, and crossed the room towards Moody's office, intentionally ignoring Draco Malfoy's snide chuckling. How that man managed to pass all the tests required to be an Auror perplexed him to no end.
Finally, he stood in Moody's doorway, nervously shuffling his feet. "You called, sir?"
"Get in here and close the door." Moody said gruffly.
Harry complied, trying not to look too guilty as he did so.
"Sit down."
Once again, Harry slowly followed orders, as if moving too quickly would somehow insult the older Auror. Moody leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on his battered oak desk that Alastor had likely owned for years, several papers floated to the floor in the process, and Harry began to stoop down to pick them up.
"Let 'em be. They aren't important." Moody stated, and Harry jerked back to a fully upright position. "Getting a little bored, are we, Potter?"
"Oh no, sir. I'm quite fine, really." Harry denied.
Moody's eyes narrowed. "Potter, how long do you think I've been an Auror?"
Harry blanched; afraid this was one of those questions that he would answer wrong regardless of what he said. "Long enough, I would suppose."
"Then don't you think I'd be able to spot a bald-faced lie from a kilometer away?"
"No, sir… I mean… yes, sir!"
"Then let's try this again… Getting a little bored, are we, Potter?"
"I… suppose so, sir."
Moody sighed, and it seemed like all the anger floated away with it. Moody's voice was softer when next he spoke, almost wistful. "Don't worry about it, Potter. I'm bored out of my skull as well. That's what happens when there just isn't anyone wanting to cause trouble. I've been an Auror for years now… years of staring death in the face. Now with Voldemort gone for good, thanks to you, things have been downright quiet. I'm sure that wasn't what you signed on for."
To be honest, Harry didn't mind the fact that he hadn't had to do anything extraordinarily heroic since passing the final exams to become a fully licensed Auror. By the time he had turned eighteen he had plenty enough adventure to last him the rest of his life. He became an Auror to help if he was needed, but he certainly didn't want to go looking for trouble.
It was traditionally more than capable of finding him on its own without any help…
"Can I ask why you called me in here, sir?" Harry asked with a slight degree more boldness now that it became increasingly apparent that he wasn't going to be yelled at.
Moody grabbed his wand from his pocket, and flipped it towards his incoming mail box across the room on a filing cabinet next to his coat hook. "Accio Potter Letter!" Moody said, and a long white envelope floated across the office to Moody's hand. Once secure, he handed it across the desk to Harry, who took it with a baffled expression.
"This came in for you today. He needed my okay before he could officially ask you. Since there's nothing here for you to do, I figured if you could be useful elsewhere, I couldn't exactly refuse."
Harry was only partly listening to Moody, his heart racing as he recognized the wax seal across the letter's flap; a large capital letter "H" surrounded by a shield bearing four different magic creatures. Almost impatiently, he ripped open the letter and examined the contents. It bore the official Hogwart's letterhead, giving Harry a slight sense of nostalgia.
To Mr. Potter,
Harry smiled slightly as he noticed that the writer of the letter had scratched out that first line, and had started again.
Dear Harry,
I am glad to see that you are doing well. Mr. Moody has had nothing but glowing things to say about you and your time spent under his care. I certainly hope that the lack of action is suiting you.
Nonetheless, I would like to make you an offer. As it turns out, my most recent Defense of the Dark Arts professor suffered an unfortunate accident during final N.E.W.T exams, and is unable to return for the coming year. Somewhat interestingly, she became my most tenured Defense Professor in some time simply by showing up at the start of this last year.
Harry chuckled at that. It certainly seemed that position had been cursed his entire time at Hogwarts, no one lasting longer than a year. It was truly amazing for him to learn that someone had actually survived to teach consecutive years.
I thought about supplying notice to take interviews for the now vacant position, but as I thought about it, the more only one name came to mind. It has come to the point where I can see no one else fitting the position other than you, Harry. After the adventures you have had, the perils you have lived through, I suspect if you cannot survive more than two years, no one can.
Please give this offer deep consideration, although I do wish that you give me a positive reply. I fear I will run out of people capable of teaching the class soon if the current trends continue.
With Care,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
P.S. I suspect Professor Granger would be thrilled to have you nearby again. There are times where I fear she will worry herself ill wondering what dangers Auror life is leading you into.
Harry's mind was doing flip-flops, trying to convince himself that this wasn't one giant joke. He certainly wouldn't hold it beneath Malfoy to do something so utterly cruel. He pointed at the letter, and asked incredulously, "Is this for real, sir?"
Moody smiled, "Dumbledore handed it to me personally. Grinning like a Cheshire cat the whole time too. The man is fond of you, and I suspect that he would be over the moon if you were to accept."
"Do you think I should?"
"Well, it's not like you're doing much of anything worthwhile here, now are you?" Moody asked rhetorically. "I'm too old to be running around after a bunch of little kids with wands and no idea how to use them. I can barely handle grown men with wands and no idea how to use them." He chuckled at his own joke, then continued, "You on the other hand… you know more about the Dark Arts through personal experience than anyone your age has the right to. I have to agree with Dumbledore, you'd be perfect."
Harry smiled dumbly, staring back down at the letter. To go back… to see all the people and places that had given him strength in his young life. It was still almost a little too good to be true.
Moody stood up, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. With a knowing smile, he said, "I'll owl Dumbledore, and tell him the good news…"
Upon returning to his flat on Diagon Alley that afternoon, Harry was reminded how quickly news spread in the wizarding world. Hedwig was hooting rather crossly at a number of owls perched on his deck, and there was a pile of letters on his dining room table.
He randomly plucked one from the mess, and examined the handwriting before opening up the letter with a chuckle.
Dearest Harry,
I almost could not believe the news when Dumbledore told me of his decision. I was absolutely floored, to say the least. Professor Snape is going to have a coronary when he finds out. He was so certain that the Dark Arts position would finally be his after all this time.
I'm so happy for you! We must plan some sort of Hogsmeade trip for lunch or something once you get here. It's seemed like ages since we've talked face to face. I must admit I'm looking forward to having you around. It will be like old times, only without the fear of detention!
Your loving friend,
Hermione
Harry smiled warmly as he set the letter down. Hermione had almost instantly been hired after graduation to take over as Professor of Arithmancy, first as an assistant then two years later as the full professor. Contrary to what she implied, it had hardly been ages since they had met, as they spent most holidays and frequent weekend lunches together, although those meetings had become less frequent once Hermione had become a full-time professor.
The next letter he opened was from Ron, somewhat surprising since he was constantly on the move. Ron had made the most of his dream, becoming a professional Quiddich keeper. Unfortunately, his name frequently appeared in trade transactions, and he was presently in France, as Harry recalled, although somewhat shamefully, he couldn't remember the team Ron was currently playing for.
Hey there, Harry,
Well, who would have thought… you… a professor… after all the stunts you pulled as a student. I suppose you couldn't have been given a subject more up your alley though. Although I still say that you should have went with me. With me guarding the goal and you grabbing the snitch, we'd have won more cups than can be found in the Hogwart's kitchen.
Harry rolled his eyes. He had decided a long time ago that he just didn't have it in him to be a professional seeker. All the moving around just wasn't for him.
Well, anyway, coach's here… guess it's game time, so I must be off. Congratulations though, hope you have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!
Your bestest pal,
Ron
P.S. Give Snape some hell for me. I know he's not as bad as he pretends to be, but he's still a git at times.
P.P.S. Tell Hermione I said hi, and tell her I'm sorry for not sending her last birthday present on time. Silly girl has been guilting me for months about it.
The next letter he opened turned out to be from Mr. and Mrs. Weasely…
Dear Harry,
Words cannot express how proud Arthur and I are of you. We cannot think of anyone more deserving of such an honor. We have no doubt that you will be the finest Defense Professor Hogwarts has seen in years.
Give Albus and Hermione our regards, and if you see that globe-hopping son of ours, remind him that he does have a family, and said family would appreciate an owl now and again.
Yours truly,
Arthur and Molly Weasely
Following that was a letter from his father's old friend, Remus Lupin…
Dear Harry,
Congratulations. If only Lily and James were able to see you now. You do them both a great honor, and I suspect you will continue to do so for many years to come. I'll admit that I was wondering how long it would take for Dumbledore to finally decide to ask you… I know that he's been considering it for a couple years now, at least.
By the by, Nymphadora Tonks wants to extend her congratulations as well.
There was a line of blank space, and then a different hand picked up…
Way to go, Harry! Smashing job!
Another line of space, then Remus's pen apparently took over the letter once more.
Anyway, I wish you the best. Hopefully you last longer than I did. Good luck, and have a pleasant year.
Your friend,
Remus Lupin
The rest were various well wishes from acquaintances and various Ministry officials, as well as one rather amusing interview request from Luna Lovegood for her father's paper, the Quibbler.
Finally, he made note of another sealed letter from Dumbledore.
Dear Harry,
I thank you for accepting my offer. It will be good to see you mulling about through the halls of Hogwarts once more… only preferably without an Invisibility Cloak. All professors are asked to submit their lesson plans for approval by the seventeenth of July, and are expected to arrive at Hogwarts by the twentieth of August. I can arrange travel for you if you need, but I suspect you haven't lost all your skills with a broom.
I am looking forward to meeting you on the twentieth of August… Professor Potter.
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Harry looked at his calendar. The seventeenth of July was a little more than a month away, but since he had no idea just how long it would take for him to put together yearly lesson plans for seven different classes of seven different levels of education, he figured he probably should get started as quickly as he could rather than wasting time.
He froze for a moment as he pondered what had just come to his mind. Hermione had more of an effect on him over the years than he ever realized until just now…
Summers had never traditionally moved quickly for Harry. Whether the time was spent with the Dursleys during his school years, or alone in his flat afterwards as an Auror, the days of summer tended to move quite slowly. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing… but boredom is never the most welcome of houseguests.
However, the current summer was by far the slowest of the lot. It had moved pretty quickly at first as Harry spent countless hours in order to complete the lesson plans by the deadline Dumbledore had put forward, but once that was done, and the plans accepted, everything slowed to a crawl. There had actually been a point in early August where he had awoke, and could have sworn the calendar at his bedside had turned back to the day before.
Nonetheless, August twentieth did eventually arrive. Harry had slept fitfully that night, simply too excited to be able to fall into a prolonged slumber. Finally, a couple hours before the sun was due to rise, Harry was sipping a cup of coffee, and readying his Firebolt for the trip to Hogwarts. If he recalled, it wouldn't take very long to make the journey, but he simply couldn't count on himself sitting still any longer. He felt like he was eleven years old again.
He opened the glass slider leading out to his balcony, closed then magically locked it, made sure his cloaking charm was active, mounted his broom, then jumped over the rail of the deck, catching a convenient updraft that helped his ascent into the pre-dawn sky.
The sun was barely beginning to peek over the horizon by the time that Harry could see the lights of Hogwarts shining from afar. Smiling gleefully, he began his descent, feeling the majestic energy of the school the closer he drew to its shores.
He circled once around the old building before deciding to set down in the main courtyard, keeping as wide of a berth from the Whomping Willow as he could possibly manage. With all the grace that Gryffindor's most renowned seeker would possess, Harry made a perfect landing on the soft grass, cleanly dismounting, and snapping his Firebolt up to his shoulder.
He had barely taken two steps when he heard a familiar female voice shout, "He's here! He's here!" Harry turned full about just in time to get nearly tackled to the ground as a bushy haired woman threw herself at him, clenching him in a tight hug that seemed far too strong to come from such a slight frame.
Hermione Granger looked up happily, and it once again surprised Harry how he was now that much taller than she was. It seemed like only yesterday that they were able to look eye to eye without so much as tilting their necks.
Harry returned the embrace, but without quite the same enthusiasm. "Well, good morning, Hermione. I figured I'd be the first one here."
Hermione pulled herself away reluctantly, and said, "I arrived yesterday… there were some things I wanted to finalize with the library to make sure they had the books I would require for the students."
Harry laughed. "Why am I not surprised? How many books have you assigned the poor children to read this year?"
She huffed at the teasing, and answered, "Arithmancy is a very complicated subject, as you should well know. There is no one book that can adequately capture the full nature of the problems and solutions required in a manner that I would deem adequate."
"That didn't answer my question."
Hermoine huffed once more, and began to stride towards the old castle turned schoolhouse. "Only two books for the third and fourth years, if you must know. My fifth, six, and seventh years have four."
"You are going to drive some family like the Weaselys into poverty with that sort of load." Harry smirked.
"That's why I wanted to make sure the library would have adequate copies." Hermione retorted defensively. "Only one book for each year is required if they simply want to pass. It's for the students who actually want to learn more that I assign the additional texts." She then smiled deviously, and remarked, "Not that you'd know anything about that."
Harry made a mock pained gasp. "You wound me, Professor Granger. I could never have met the requirements to be an Auror without sufficient study and scholastic achievement."
"Then why is it that I notice you didn't assign many texts for your classes?" Hermione asked playfully. She knew that he had not been the most avid book learner, and that such a tendency would reflect in his teaching.
"Defense against the Dark Arts is more of a practical application thing, in my opinion." Harry replied. "There's only so much you can learn about it from reading about it. Remember that near wasted year under Umbridge's 'expert tutelage'?"
Hermione groaned at the memory, but then snikered, "Yes… fortunately, 'Dumbledore's Army' helped keep ourselves on track with our continued education."
"That's the point. I want my students to actually be able to defend themselves, not just know how. That requires a great deal of hands-on practice." Harry said with a playful arrogance.
"More like you can't stand reading anything that doesn't involve Quiddich for more than five minutes at a time." She shot back, effectively knocking Harry down a full peg.
They finally entered the school proper, and Harry asked, "So… who all is here already?"
"Well… Dumbledore and the Heads of the Houses never leave as far as I can tell, and if they do, it isn't for very long. Outside of that, so far there is only me and you…"
She was cut off as the sound of heavy boots filled the hall, and an absolute behemoth of a man stepped around the corner they were approaching, snatching Harry off his feet and into a bear hug that forced all the air from his lungs.
"… and Hagrid." Hermione finished with a chuckle.
"Harry! It's good to see you again! You really should visit more!" The half-giant said with glee, not even waiting for Harry's response before he added, "Then again, you'll be here all year now, so you really don't have to visit, now do you? To think, Harry Potter at Hogwart's once again. It brings a tear to me eye. Lily and James would be so proud, bless their souls."
Finally, Hagrid went silent enough to hear Harry gasp, "…need… air…"
"Oh." Hagrid muttered sheepishly, releasing the panting new professor, and allowing Harry to regain his lost breath.
Once Harry had done so, the younger man asked, "So, I assume you're still teaching Magical Creatures, correct?"
Hagrid nodded, "Between Firenze and I, we do a good job. He knows almost as much as I do."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought Firenze helped Trelawney in Divination…"
Hagrid nodded again, "He does. About two years or so ago, he figured if he couldn't be a full teacher in one area, he'd half-teach in two."
Hermione rolled her eyes, and she chided, "I told you about that when it happened, remember?"
Harry paused for a brief moment then slapped his forehead, now remembering the lunch with Hermione roughly two summers prior in which she did bring up said topic. "Right… well pardon me if I didn't find it to be information to stow at the top of my head for future use."
Hermione playfully jabbed him in the side. "Of course. The great Harry Potter can't be expected to remember details of his mere mortal friends' lives."
"You make it sound like I don't care…" Harry protested, but looking down at Hermione, and her huge grin quickly dispelled his worries.
"I remember when you wouldn't even show your teeth when you smiled." Harry shot back, causing Hermione to gape in disbelief.
"I can't believe you'd bring that up!" She said.
Harry returned her original grin, and replied, "I can't believe you'd imply I didn't care about my friends."
Hagrid interrupted them before they began to reveal any humiliating secrets. "I suspect you'll be wanting to report to Dumbledore… tell him you've arrived and all."
"Oh, yes!" Harry remarked. "I assume he is in his office?"
"That he'd be." Hagrid answered with a wink. "I figure that you would know the way by now."
Harry turned towards Hermione, and said, "Actually, it's been such a long time, and apparently my memory is not as keen as it should be. Perhaps I could use an escort?"
"I would be honored." She answered with a grin, taking stride with Harry as they parted Hagrid's company, and resumed their path towards the headmaster's office. Unfortunately, it seemed like every staircase was against them, shuffling either just before or just after they stepped on, forcing the pair to take a much longer route than what would normally have been necessary.
Finally, when they had successfully navigated the moving stairs, Harry felt something he never thought he would feel again.
There was a sudden pang in his scar… nothing seriously painful, but as if an invisible hand had flicked him in the forehead. It lingered for a pair of heartbeats then faded as completely as if it had never happened at all. Five or six years ago, Harry would have barely acknowledged the sensation… but at this point, it was so unexpected that Harry froze in place, the fingertips of his right hand drifting over the lightning bolt shaped mark in complete disbelief.
Hermoine turned back to see why Harry had stopped, then went still herself. She knew Harry well enough to know what had just happened, and it chilled her to the bone. "Harry… don't start playing games with me…" She demanded somewhat fearfully.
Harry knew better at this point in his life than to lie to her. "I don't mean to worry you… but for a moment… my scar tingled. The only time I ever felt anything was when…"
"Don't say it!" Hermione shouted. "Voldemort's dead. You killed him yourself! I watched you do it!"
Harry held up his hands, as if trying to ward her off. "I know that! Besides, it's gone now." Noticing Hermione's disbelieving expression, he reiterated. "It is! You have to remember, Voldemort spent quite a few years here as well… who knows what sort of things he left behind. Anything tied to him I suspect would have the potential to set off my scar."
Hermione didn't appear completely convinced, and said. "Perhaps… but I think you should inform Dumbledore anyway."
Harry had gotten used to the somewhat motherly nature Hermione adopted towards him whenever she felt he might be in even the slightest amount of trouble. Nevertheless, that didn't mean he couldn't be annoyed by it. "Herm, I am a big boy now. I don't need Dumbledore checking every little nook and cranny in this castle for mean nasties trying to snatch me as I walk through the halls."
"But…" Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her before she got any further.
"If it happens too many more times, or gets worse… then I'll tell Dumbledore about it. However, at this time, there is nothing that would indicate it is anything more than an isolated incident brought about by some long dead remnants of years past." He caught Hermione's defiant look, and amended, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring it up, either. He's no doubt got quite a few things to do before the year starts. I'd rather not bother him with tingling in my scar until I'm a little more certain it's a problem."
"Are you… sure?"
"Positive. Trust me on this one, okay?"
Hermione seemed ready to object again… but just as Harry had learned some things about Hermione over the years, so had she learned things about him. Pushing the issue would only lead to an argument and perhaps a grudge that she couldn't afford to give him if she wanted to keep an eye on him. So, with a silent nod, she agreed to his decision.
There was silence for a brief time as neither of them moved immediately. Finally, Harry smiled, and motioned to the hall, saying "Lead on, my guide. The headmaster waits."
In the reception area beneath Dumbledore's office awaited yet another familiar face. Professor Minerva McGonagall was apparently making sure everything was ready for the coming year. When she caught sight of the approaching pair, she quickly dropped everything to meet them. Literally. The box she had been carrying fell with a deep thud on the stone floor of the room, and the book underneath her arm soon followed.
"Mr. Potter…" She began, trying to fight back tears, her voice catching as she smiled. "Welcome back. I hope that this time around is a little more pleasant, and a little more peaceful than your first time with us."
"I suspect it will be, ma'am." Harry said with a smile and a slight bow.
McGonagall shook her head, and corrected him. "Professor Potter… I think you're a little old to be calling me that. Professor McGonagall will suffice in public, or even just McGonagall. I suppose you could even call me, Minerva, in private if you are feeling particularly bold."
Harry flushed at the very idea of calling the Head of Gryffindor House by her given name. "I don't think I'll ever feel that bold… Professor McGonagall."
The aged woman laughed rather heartily. "Miss Granger said the same thing when she first became a professor. She quickly realized the truth of the matter, didn't you, Hermione?"
Hermione's eyes twinkled in remembrance, and she nodded. "Indeed I did, Minerva."
"I suspect that Dumbledore will wish to see you, Harry, so I won't keep you any longer. Once you are finished, I'm sure Miss Granger will be able to show you to your dormitory and any other places in the school that you might need to be reminded of. We have made a few changes too… it would do well to know them."
"I shall do so." Harry said in parting, "I suppose I shall see you again soon enough. Good day."
McGonagall paused then said with a grin, "Dumbledore might be in his study, so you might need the password to open the stairway. If I recall correctly, it is 'Flapweeders' for this week."
Harry waved in acknowledgement and asked Hermione, "Are you going to come up as well?"
His friend shook her said, and replied, "No. I suspect Dumbledore will want some time to admire the fine job he did with you without other eyes peeping in."
Harry scoffed humorously then turned towards the statue that guarded the stairwell up to Dumbledore's private office and study. Saying the password clearly, the statue began to rotate away, the spiral staircase taking its place steadily in the process. Harry began to climb the steps as soon as there was room to squeeze through, taking the steps two at a time in his haste to reach the top.
He reached the final step as the staircase locked fully into place, the sudden stop to the rotation causing him to stumble and nearly fall flat on his face. Fortunately, the balance he attained during his Quiddich playing didn't fail him, and he recovered before making a considerably less than graceful first impression as a professor before the headmaster.
Dumbledore had not been in the study after all, instead sitting behind his desk, barely visible behind a stack of various, apparently magical items and unidentifiable knick-knacks. Because of the impeded view, Harry couldn't clearly see what he was doing, but apparently, his arrival had taken the old headmaster somewhat by surprise.
Fawlkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, crowed softly, and that caused his owner to jerk with a start. There was a little nervous shuffling of what sounded like paper behind Dumbledore's desk; then the headmaster jumped to his feet, and emerged out into the open.
"Harry, how nice to see you! I wasn't expecting you until later." Dumbledore said with a smile that reminded Harry of the rising sun that was now creeping into the office window. "Had I been paying attention like I should have, I would have straightened a few things up before you arrived."
"I got impatient." Harry replied with a shrug and a half-grin. "Besides, and I mean this in no offense, sir, your office never struck me as anything resembling orderly in all the years I had been in it."
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with a playful vitality that no one his apparent age should have possessed through any natural means. "There is always a method to my madness, Harry. Unfortunately, every summer I seem to inexplicably acquire an ever increasing number of trinkets that I have no conceivable use for that tests my method to its fullest." There was a pause, then Dumbledore said sternly, "And I insist that you call me Albus, Harry. I simply will not tolerate such formal displays of respect while we are in this office."
For some reason, it was much easier for Harry to breach that matter with Dumbledore than it had been with Professor McGonagall. "I think I can manage that, Albus." He said with a laugh.
"Well… I suppose I should get to business." Dumbledore chirped, reaching into a pocket on the left side of his robes, and pulling out a ring of keys. "These will allow you entry into all the pertinent rooms in the school that I foresee you might have reason to enter. If you encounter the need for entry into any others, please let me know."
Harry nodded, taking the key ring and placing it in his own pocket. Meanwhile, Dumbledore continued, "As you requested, I have reserved the main feasting hall in the mid-afternoon for practical defense lessons. I have also made the South Courtyard available throughout the day if you see the need for further instruction. And as always, the exterior grounds, with the exception of the Forbidden Forest, are available."
"That will do nicely. Thank you."
"Unless you have any other questions, I do need to return to my work, and I suspect you probably need to get settled in as well. I believe either Hermione or Minerva knows where your dormitory is, and I suspect will not hesitate to show you."
The next four days moved by rather quickly, as there was a surprising amount for Harry to do before it was time to go to Platform 9 and ¾ at King's Crossing. As the newest professor, it was his duty to escort the students on the train towards the Hogwart's Express, then on the boats leading to the school. Before he did that, he also had to make sure that everything in his classroom was as he liked it, and that all the different practice grounds were suitable for what he planned.
He was also bothered by the occasional pangs in his scar, something that was now beginning to worry him. It still wasn't anything painful or profound, but the frequency of the sensations were beginning to become more than he could dismiss as sheer coincidence. After he returned with the students, he determined to set aside some time to bring the matter to Dumbledore's attention.
Checking the magical time hand at the south end of his dormitory, he decided that it was time to prepare to meet the train as it left for London. He checked his person once more to make sure he had everything he thought he'd need, tucked his Firebolt under his arm, and then stepped outside his door…
…only to nearly run into Severus Snape.
There was a pause as both men instinctively stepped back then they both seemed to realize simultaneously just who the other was. Snape's frown deepened into a full sneer, and his voice was injected with enough venom to kill a giant.
"So… if it isn't Hogwart's personal celebrity himself." Snape said. "I hope you realize that there are rules for professors as well… not that it matters to you, does it?"
Harry grinned, and shot back, "Let me assure you that I fully understand my duties, Severus."
The Slytherin House Master recoiled in shock, before it was replaced with indignant anger. His voice bordering on full bellow, Snape hissed, "Don't ever call me that again, or…"
"Or what?" Harry interrupted in challenge. "You'll give me detention? You'll take points from Gryffindor?" He allowed a spiteful laugh to escape his lips before adding, "The way I see it, Professor Snape, I don't have to deal with your bitter sniping and asinine attitude quietly anymore."
Snape huffed, and retorted, "You never did before. I can't imagine why you would start now."
Harry then took a bold step forward, staring Snape directly in the eye, their noses almost touching. In the back of his mind, he was again reminded as to how he had grown, as he barely had to look up to do so. "Two can play at these games, Severus. If you intend to give me or my house a hard time because of some petty jealousy from before I was born, let me assure you that I will do the same. I do not, and in fact, will not, put up with your antics any longer. Am I clear?"
"Crystal." Snape drawled. If looks were spells, Snape would have cast the Killing Curse several times in the ensuing silence.
Harry finally stepped back, his point made. He doubted that Snape would actually change his attitude, but at least the man couldn't claim that Harry hadn't given him fair warning. Turning his back to the head of Slytherin House, Harry casually called back. "Well, I suppose I should meet the train and escort the students now. You see, unlike you, when I am given a task, I actually do it…"
As Harry left, he didn't need to look back to know that Snape was red with barely reined in fury. Harry wound his way out of the school, hopped onto his Firebolt, and took off across the channel to the mainland, where the Hogwart's Express was preparing to leave.
The trip to King's Crossing was quiet, but Harry was certain that wasn't going to last. He couldn't fight back the smile that crept on his face… remembering all the times he took this train as a student, the excitement and happiness he felt as it rumbled towards Hogwart's… as well as the dread and misery he felt as it rumbled away. Harry sighed… nostalgia always did that to him.
He had another such moment as he watched the student's of various ages begin to load themselves onto the train. He remembered all too well the awe of being a first year as they beheld the wonders of the platform and the excitement of going to such a magical place as Hogwarts. He also remembered the nervous excitement of the fourth and fifth years, around long enough to no longer be awed by the majesty of the school, but starting to feel the burden of the tests and responsibilities of older students. Finally, he could also clearly recall the calm excitement of the seventh-years, anticipation of what lied ahead as they entered their final year as students, and prepared to enter the adult world.
It took roughly three hours for all the students to arrive, and situate themselves in the various cabins aboard the train. When that was settled, the train lurched, and began to pick up speed. Harry braced himself on the handrail along the main aisle of the fourth car until the train reached full speed. Once he felt sure enough of his own footing to move again, Harry decided to seek out a cabin to sit down in himself. He moved towards the forward cars, where the first years were generally placed, worried that sitting with older students that might recognize him wouldn't be the best idea.
He casually peered into several cabins as he passed; looking for one that was reasonably empty. He finally found one three cabins from the engine car on the left, a group of two girls and a boy, likely first-years from the way they were completely transfixed by the view outside the window.
He rapped on the door, and the noise caused the occupants to jump in surprise, their expressions somewhat blank as they turned to him. He pointed towards the benches they were sitting in and asked, "Is there room for one more?"
They didn't respond right away, their faces dumbstruck as if they were having problems processing the question asked. Finally, the girl closest to the window managed to nod, and say, "Sure… scoot over Freddy." She then flipped a hand at the boy sitting across from her, who complied, unable to take his eyes off Harry.
Harry sat down, unnerved by the awed staring from the other occupants. He had grown quite used to it after a while, and the reverence usually died away rapidly as people got to know him.
"Are you… the Harry Potter?" The girl on his left asked, wide-eyed in amazement.
Harry grinned, and answered, "No… just a Harry Potter." He then put his index finger up to his lips, and added, "But be quiet or every cabin is going to want one."
That caused a slight chuckle to ripple through the three children, and it helped serve to calm them at the same time. Noticing this, Harry asked, "So, since it appears you all know who I am, perhaps you can tell me who you are."
Instantly, the girl on his right, the one nearest the window, spoke up. "I am Prima Patil."
Harry's eyebrows raised, "You wouldn't happen to be related to a Padma Patil?"
Prima's eyes danced happily, "She's my aunt. Is it true that you were in the same year as she was?"
"It is." He suddenly wondered why he hadn't guessed before… the family resemblance was uncanny.
Prima became a little bolder then asked slyly, "Then is it also true that you took her to the Yule Ball in your fourth year?"
Harry grimaced slightly. The resemblance was more than just in appearance, "Yes, I did." He conveniently left out the fact that Padma had really been his last choice when he couldn't find anyone else on such short notice. Deciding to derail this potentially embarrassing line of questioning, he turned to the other girl, and asked, "And what's your name?"
"Julie Fitzsimmons." She replied, with a slight degree of shyness, like she wasn't exactly sure how to address him. "Why are you here, Mr. Potter? There's not anything dangerous about this train ride, is there?"
Harry laughed. "No, of course not. The newest professor generally is required to escort the students to Hogwart's. Nothing more than that."
"Newest… professor?" The boy next to him queried, as if he had just received a piece of unexpectedly good luck.
Harry nodded, "I'll be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts this year, Freddy…" He let his voice drop off as a hint that he wanted the boy's last name.
"Cole… but I prefer to be called Frederick." He added with a slightly irritated glance towards Prima. "She's my neighbor, so she thinks she can call me whatever she wants."
"I've been calling you Freddy since we were four." Prima retorted unapologetically. "Seems silly to get in a fuss over it now."
Fredrick huffed, not at all convinced, and looked up to Harry for help in the matter. He shrugged, and said, "I actually like being called Harry." Seeing Prima's triumphant grin, he added, "But you should always respect a person's wishes."
Prima recoiled, then her feature's dropped to point where it looked like she was about to cry. "I… suppose you're right. I just call him Freddy because he's been such a good friend… and Fredrick makes him sound like a prissy snob. But if that is what he really wants…"
Harry had to fight back the laugh bubbling in his lungs as he watched poor Fredrick wilt under Prima's forlorn expression. Harry knew enough to know that poor Freddy didn't have a chance. Sure enough, the boy shuffled his feet nervously, and said, "I guess it's all right if you call me that… but no one else… okay?"
Instantly, Prima was bubbling over with happiness once again. "Oh, thank you, Freddy! I knew you were a true friend!" She then leaped over the distance between them and gave him a friendly hug, in what Harry figured was almost overdoing it.
Harry then noticed that Julie was staring off into the aisle, as if trying not to feel left out. So he asked, "Are you all friends, then?"
Julie started with a bright red flush then shook her head. "No… I don't really know them. I don't know anyone here. I didn't even know Hogwart's existed until a couple of strange men in robes came up to my door, and handed my parents a letter. My parents were both… Mudholes… or something like that."
Prima sighed, and corrected, "Muggles."
Again, Julie flushed. "Oh… yes, that's right."
Harry had a huge swelling of sympathy in his gut for the shy first year girl. "I know that feeling. Wondering just what this big new world you stepped into is, wondering if it was all just one huge mistake, and that you really don't belong here."
Prima's eyes widened in disbelief. "But… but… you're Harry Potter! Everyone knows you! Your parents were two of the bravest wizards I've ever heard about!"
Harry nodded, "That's true… but I never knew them. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, who didn't tell me really anything about them or the life they lived. I didn't know a thing about wizards or witches or any of it until a guy named Hagrid, you'll meet him at the end of the train ride no doubt, burst down my uncle's cottage door on my eleventh birthday."
He then devoted his next words to Julie. "I am going to tell you what I wish someone had the foresight to tell me. You're here, and you belong, and there is going to be a whole army of other people that are going to take you right in and watch out for you and make sure you feel welcome, just as you will do for others in time. I can promise you that."
"Are you sure?" Julie muttered, daring not to hope. "What if they're wrong about me?"
"Well, I can't say that Headmaster Dumbledore is perfect… but I can say I've never seen him make a mistake about a wizard or witch yet. If you got the letter, if you're here on this train, you're one of us… and you'll never be lonely again."
Suddenly, Harry felt his scar begin to tingle once more. His features went ashen, and his hand instantly drifted to his wand. Whatever was triggering his scar, it had followed him to the train…
"Professor Potter… is something wrong?" Freddy asked, suddenly concerned.
Julie froze on the spot, her face going as pale as Harry's. "I knew it… I knew there was something bad about this train."
"No… everything's fine… just say here." Harry mumbled, he leaped to his feet, and stuck his head out the cabin into the aisle, and saw a flap of what appeared to be a long black cape disappearing behind the door that connected the second and third passenger cars.
There were some quizzical stares from several students who stuck their heads into the aisles to see the grown man briskly walking to the back of the car, his hand clenched around his wand in his pocket. He didn't want to run and risk upsetting the students, but he could feel the sensation fading, and by the time he had reached the door, it was gone again. Even though he was sure he would find nothing, he slid open the door, and peered into the adjoining car. Sure enough, the aisle was empty.
Unfortunately, Harry didn't have time to bring the issue up with Dumbledore before the Sorting Ritual and Year's Opening feast. He determined to discuss it with the Headmaster either right after the feast, or the following day before classes began. There was no doubt in Harry mind now that the sensations in his scar were sheer chance.
What could the tingling mean? Could he have possibly failed? Could Lord Voldemort possibly still be alive? The Dark Arts Master had survived his apparent death once before… could he have done so again… waiting… plotting… gathering his strength once more in order to get his revenge? If so… why wasn't his scar reacting stronger to Voldemort's presence? Perhaps Dumbledore would understand what was occurring better than he was.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized the Sorting Hat had finished its long winded poem until Minerva (it stunned him to realize that he was already thinking of Professor McGonagall by her first name), stood up and called out, "ABBOTT, HENRY!"
A portly looking blond boy stood up tentatively, and approached the stool in which the Sorting Hat was sitting. Harry remembered the nervousness when he had approached the Sorting Hat a full eleven years ago to this day, and he hadn't even been the first one of his class to be called. It must have been simply nerve-racking for the poor child before him now.
The hat was placed on his head, and it seemed like the hat had gathered a bit of a sadistic streak to it, as it waited for several minutes, thoughtfully humming to itself as sweat began to bead on Henry Abbott's head. Slight murmuring and whispering began to fill the hall as both student and professor alike began to openly wonder what was taking so long, and if finally someone had made a mistake, and brought a potential student with no… potential. Finally, the Sorting Hat grinned, laughed, and exclaimed, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
Every living being (and even a few of the not-quite-so-living-anymore beings) exhaled simultaneously in shared relief, and poor Henry Abbott staggered away with weak knees towards the Hufflepuff table. Minerva glared down at the Hat, and said warningly, "Let's not repeat that little game if you will. You took a full year off my life with that stunt."
The Sorting Hat didn't reply, and Minerva was forced to call out the next name on the list. "ANTANUS, MAURI!"
This time, a black haired, pale faced girl from the back stood, and strode towards the stool. If she felt any nervousness after the first incident with the Sorting Hat, she didn't show it. Inwardly, Harry was almost certain where she would go.
The Sorting Hat, however, had different ideas, and again proved to Harry that appearances can be deceiving. Fortunately, it didn't wait nearly as long to make its proud proclamation of, "RAVENCLAW!" With a smile, Mauri Antanus strode with equal confidence towards her new house table, as if she had not possessed a shred of doubt in the world.
Several more names were called before he heard one that he recognized. "COLE, FREDERICK!"
Harry watched the grinning young boy with the short cut brown hair skip down the aisle to the Sorting Hat, plopping down on the stool with his hands on his lap. Harry couldn't help but grin as the Sorting Hat fell almost completely over his face, then three seconds later crow, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry clapped enthusiastically for the first student to be chosen to his old house, and noticed that Hermione next to him was doing the same, and that even Dumbledore was putting a little more energy into his congratulations. The three of them only stopped out of respect for the next student as she approached the stool.
Finally, Minerva got to a name that drew Harry's full attention. "FITZSIMMONS, JULIE!"
Harry's heart caught in his throat as the rosy cheeked, almost waif-like auburn-haired girl took her first nervous steps down the aisle towards the Sorting Hat. Harry almost felt like he was taking each long, heart-pounding step with her, terror and excitement mixing into one ball of emotion building in his gut. She reached the stool, took her seat, her legs trembling, biting down onto her lower lip with her eyes clamped shut.
Harry discovered he had closed his eyes as well, and simply couldn't find the strength in himself to open them. If there was any sense of decency in this world… if there was any just power watching over the people on it… Julie would have to be put into…
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The ball of emotion in Harry's stomach burst out in the form of a deep sigh of utter relief, and it had only been the final shreds of his dignity that kept him from jumping to his feet and cheering. Nonetheless, if he clapped harder than anybody for any incoming student for the entire Sorting Ritual, no one questioned or even blamed him, although Hermione did give him a curious glance for several minutes afterwards.
The rest of the names didn't hold any great interest in him, save for a passing notice that Prima Patil had been sorted in Ravenclaw, and thus, was not at all sorry that the long process ended with Kylie Zytara being sorted into Slytherin. Finally, Dumbledore stood to give his opening address to the students of Hogwart's.
The headmaster stood, and said, "Greetings to all of you. For those who are returning, I welcome you back for another hopefully productive year. For those who are new, I welcome you for the first of hopefully many productive years. I wish to inform you that the Forbidden Forest is named Forbidden for a reason, and is not to be entered. I also advise you to locate your house Prefects and introduce yourselves as soon as possible. They are here to help you as much as lead you, and they can answer many, if not all, of the questions you may have."
"There are a couple items that I wish to make note of before we begin our feast. Firstly, I wish to announce that we have a new professor among us, and that he will be taking over Defense against the Dark Arts in place of Professor Gunlan."
There was a groan from some of the older students, but Dumbledore raised a hand to silence them. "I suspect many of you are familiar with him, either from meeting, or by reputation, so without further ado, I bid you to welcome Professor Harry Potter."
Once again, the familiar awed silence followed as Harry stood up, and nodded politely to the students. Finally, a round of applause and some whoops of excitement filled the main hall, leaving Harry to sit back down with the beginnings of a blush forming on his face. Hermione placed her hand on his arm, and whispered, "See… they love you already…"
"Just wait until I have to give detention to one of them." He muttered back, forcing his friend to fight back a giggle.
Dumbledore again raised his hand to request for silence, and it was respectfully granted to him in short order. "One last bit of news that I doubt you will find nearly as exciting, but is important to note nonetheless. Mr. Filch, the caretaker of this school, is unable to perform his duties for this year." There was a small burst of cheers from a few students, but any further displays were silenced by various Prefects and the disapproving glare from Minerva. Seemingly nonplussed by the interruption, Dumbledore continued, "To replace him, I have hired an old friend of mine, and I suspect he will serve adequately in Mr. Filch's absence."
Harry's scar suddenly began to tingle again, and he looked down to the end of the hall, where a tall man in a large black trenchcoat, shirt and pants with deeply tanned skin and jet black hair combed down halfheartedly around his head, had suddenly appeared. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his coat, and his eyes, covered in sunglasses, casually regarded the hall. Harry swore that the man looked like something out a Muggle movie he had recently seen called "The Matrix". He had been the man Harry had glimpsed on the train, and also had little doubt that he was the man that was causing the unusual sensations in Harry's scar.
While there was no way Harry could prove it, he somehow knew that their eyes met, and that the man was staring directly at Harry, though the man's face showed no sign of any change in expression. Meanwhile, Dumbledore stated, "I would like you all to meet Mr. Troy Ailona… our new caretaker…"