A/N: As always, thanks to my reviewers, you really encourage me to make time from my coursework to set up my posts.

When James was finished eating, Severus told him to go down to the Slytherin common room and wait for the new first-years to arrive. They, of course, would be brought down by a prefect. Relieved at not having to ask where it actually was, thanks to his experience during second-year, James found his way down through the maze of the dungeons. As an experiment, since none of the students were around, he hissed experimentally in Parseltongue at the entrance,

Open

The section of wall swung open immediately. That was interesting to know. Was it just the dungeons that had a Parseltongue override to the password system, or was it the entire school . . .? If only he'd known that when he was a student.

The first-years arrived about ten minutes later; in fact, they were the very last of Slytherin house to arrive, not knowing any of the shortcuts. Traditional dictated that they'd have to discover those for themselves. The entire house was assembled in the common room when Severus came in and stood near the entrance.

"For those of you who are just joining us, welcome to Slytherin house; everyone else, welcome back. As Professor Dumbledore said at the feast, Professor Evans is joining us as Deputy Head of House and he will be working in particular with the Quidditch team and the first-years, although his door, as mine, is always open to you at any time. Many of you will have heard stories about our house: forget them immediately. If other houses wish to labour under misconceptions, it only makes things easier for us.

"This is the Slytherin common room; the dormitories are in the corridors leading off it. First-years share two or three to a room; the girls will find their chambers behind the portrait of Morgana, the boys behind the portrait of Agrippa. Seventh-years should remember that you now have the option of taking a private room, as do the prefects from fifth-year up. Prefects should wear their badges at all times. Although Professor Dumbledore said that house Quidditch would start after The Harry Potter Festival, I would like our team to be training within two weeks. Anyone who wishes to try for a vacant position should speak to Archie Alderton, this year's Quidditch Captain. Professor Evans has volunteered to give any advice necessary and coach the team, so long as it doesn't coincide with his coaching for The Harry Potter Festival veteran team."

"Sorry Professor Snape," a seventh-year boy said, raising his hand, "but could you book the pitch for us every evening between seven and nine? You know the Gryffindors always try to get it first."

"Easily, Archie. That's all I have to say to the older years; you can go. First-years remain behind."

The majority of the students filed slowly out through the various portrait holes in the walls. James found this interesting. The Gryffindors had just been divided into two areas - boys and girls - with rooms for each year within the section. That left ten first-years behind: six boys and four girls. They moved awkwardly forward from their scattered positions around the room.

"Look at each other," Severus said. "This is your family for the next few years. You'll live together, work together, and fight for each other if necessary. We're Slytherins; we have a bad reputation. You can never count on the other houses to stand up for you, Gryffindor in particular. However, we are the best house, the cleverest and the most powerful. Now, how many of you are from non-wizarding families?"

Two boys and a girl raised their hands shyly.

"Contrary to popular belief, Slytherin has as many Muggle-born students as the other houses; we just make sure you settle in well. Mr Wood, if you would help Mr Macdonald around; Mr Rosier, if you'd guide Mr Richards, and Miss Higgs, could you look after Miss Wilkinson? For now, these are your roommates. Should you wish to change in a month or so, come and see me. You will all be taking a basic junior Potions course in the evenings until I'm sure that you have all mastered what those of you from wizarding families should already have been taught. Now, it's late and you should go to bed. The password for the first-years' portraits is 'Parseltongue,' the same as the password to the common room. Good night."

After that, he waited, watching while they successfully opened the passageways to their rooms before leading James back out again.

"Give them their privacy tonight, we won't start enforcing curfew for a while. So, what did you think of them? First impressions?"

James was a bit surprised by the question.

"Uh, Simon Wood is going to be trouble, a prankster if ever I saw one. Rosier, sorry I can't remember his first name, looked as though he still has some of those pureblood-Mudblood attitudes. Is that why you told him to help Richards?"

"Exactly. Anything else you might have noticed?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Very well, much what I'd expect for a new teacher. Arabelle Higgs seemed to share Michael Rosier's views, too, and Alistair Macdonald is a possible victim of homesickness. Muggle-born children tend to have more of a problem with it because of the strangeness of the situation to them. You'd better go and see him later on. That's why I put him with Simon. I didn't get on well with Oliver Wood – he was a Gryffindor, after all – but he's a good man and I'm trusting that his nephew is the same. He'll be perfectly placed to help Alistair through it all."

James nodded, still a bit shocked by the revelations about Slytherin house that he'd received that evening. Did that mean that his old Slytherin year-mates hadn't actually hated Muggle-borns? That some of them had even been 'Mudbloods' themselves? And he'd never known that you were meant to know some very basic things before you went into the school's Potions lessons, though Hermione certainly had. Suddenly, his entire view of Hogwarts had collapsed, and Severus hadn't even been sarcastic this evening. It was really too much to take in at once.

An hour or so later, James went back into the Slytherin common room and down the first-year boys' corridor. The first room belonged to Simon Wood and Alistair Macdonald; this was the one he'd been told to check. He cautiously pushed open the door just enough to peer inside through the crack without disturbing them. As Severus had predicted, Alistair was sitting up in bed, sniffing desperately in an attempt to keep himself from crying. He looked completely lost. Simon, James was pleased to see – although he'd expected no less from Oliver's nephew – was perched on the bed next to him, an arm around his shoulders, trying to calm him down.

James knew that it would be much better to let Alistair cry himself out and get it out of his system, so he pushed open the door a bit more and slipped in. Simon looked up, but James motioned him to stay quiet. The boy slipped off the bed and back into his own to let James take his place. James scooped Alistair up and cradled him in his arms like a much younger child. Alistair broke at that comfort and, clinging around his neck, burst into tears. James murmured meaninglessly into his hair until he'd finished and tried to sit up.

"Feeling better?" he asked quietly. Alistair nodded. "Just remember, we're always here if you need us. If you start feeling homesick again, you can always come down to my rooms and talk for a bit. It can be hard the first time you're away from home. For me, that was really when I was about sixteen. I cried myself to sleep every night for the first week, but don't tell anyone that. Do you think you can sleep now?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Goodnight, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

James smiled at them, tucked Alistair back up into bed, knowing full well how much he would hate being treated like a baby at this point, and left. He'd been telling the honest truth. After he'd killed Voldemort and left the wizarding world was the first time he'd left home, really, since he'd always considered Hogwarts his home, never the Dursleys'. But now, it was late, and if he wanted to get a decent amount of sleep, he'd have to go to bed himself.

The next day, James woke up, his stomach churning and a cold sweat on his forehead. He'd taught before, but never as a full-time teacher, never to students younger than sixteen and never to classes of twenty or more. To put it plainly, he was terrified. He dressed, pulling a smart green robe over the black shirt and jeans that he normally wore. After all, there was no reason to antagonise Severus unnecessarily. He managed that by accident often enough!

When he arrived in the Great Hall and took his seat, Minerva looked at him sympathetically and piled his plate with food.

"Thanks, Minerva, but I'm not really that hungry," he tried to protest.

She wasn't having any of it."Nonsense, you sound like a second-year before his first Quidditch match. You need your strength. Anyway, you'll be fine."

"If he's not fine, why would he be here, anyway?" Severus asked, sneering. "A teacher who's scared of his students is a worthless addition to the staff; he threatens the tranquillity of our own classes."

"Shut up, Severus, you can't tell me you didn't get first-time nerves, because I was the one who got you through them, just as I am doing for James now."

"I'm not nervous!" James contradicted.

"Then why are you acting like you have a problem eating?" she said patiently. "Go on, eat. Severus will leave you alone. Who do you have first?"

"Seventh-years, some of them at any rate. There's only about five of them in the class. I thought Defence Against the Dark Arts was more popular than that."

"It is; you'll find that your other seventh-year class is much larger. There was a timetable clash with Transfiguration and Potions. The class you have today takes Potions, but not Transfiguration; that's why it's such a small group. The seventh-years are a nice crowd this year. I hope you're intending to push them hard. Unfortunately, their last teacher was an incompetent of the worst kind, since he could scarcely cast the spells he was trying to teach them. Since you were recommended from the university, I doubt you'll be having that problem."

"You attended the university?" Filius Flitwick asked, sounding curious. "Which house were you in?"

"Merlin, that's why Professor Dumbledore decided I'd work out in Slytherin house."

"You know, James," Minerva said, "Albus would really prefer it if you called him by his given name, like the rest of us. He's just worried he'll make you uncomfortable."

" I'll . . . try."

"Good, now, Filius here was duelling champion at the university for - what was it Filius - two years? Have you thought who you're going to ask to assist you with your duelling club yet?"

" Profes– Albus agreed to do a demonstration duel with me in the first session. It ought to be fascinating for the students. I've asked him to go full out and not hold back."

"Are you sure you can handle duelling him?" Filius asked, sounding interested. "He defeats me quickly every time I try."

"I think I ought to be able to manage fine. Excuse me, please, I'd like to go and set up for the lesson."

"Good luck, James."

James left, passing Albus Dumbledore in the doorway.

"Have I missed anything?" he asked as he took his seat. " James looked remarkably cheerful for a new teacher. I remember that the rest of you looked like you were about to throw up before your first lessons."

" James was merely informing us that he's not only more powerful than you, Albus, but that his technique at duelling is better than yours, also," Severus said smoothly.

"If he says so, I am certain that he's right. I already had my suspicions," Albus said. "My brother informs me that he's quite the prodigy."

"He was saying that he was better than Filius!" Pomona Sprout said, sounding horrified.

"Sorry, old friend, but he is. He's… let me see … not just the only first-year student at the university to win the duelling tournament, but the only one ever to win it four consecutive years, including against the post-graduate students."

"He won every year he was there!"

"Yes."

"Standards must really have dropped since I attended, then," Severus said. "In my day, any first-year who got ideas above his station had them promptly suppressed by his elders."

"I don't believe James even intended on winning," Albus said. "My brother mentioned something about having to blackmail him in order to get him past the first round. As for standards, how good would you say Draco Malfoy is at duelling?"

"One of the best to have left Hogwarts in recent years," Minerva said promptly. " Mr Longbottom could beat him, but only just."

" Draco Malfoy, a third-year at the time and defending champion, was the one that James Evans beat in his first final, almost without any expert training. Since then, James has received three and a half intensive years of training from my brother, an acknowledged master. Now, unless you have any more accusations to make against our new teacher, I suggest you progress to your lessons. It wouldn't do for you to be late on the first day, now, would it?"

James, meanwhile, had cleared back the desks in his classroom with a flick of his wand and arranged the chairs he'd need in a circle. Then he waited, his nervousness returning, for his class to arrive. They came precisely on time, all five of them, and he ticked them off on the register. Two were Ravenclaws and there was one student from each of the other houses. Of course, it was a NEWT class. James almost kicked himself for forgetting that they were more mixed than the younger years.

"Take a seat and put everything away," he said, noticing that they were hesitating. "You won't need anything, even your wand, for this lesson. I am, as you know, Professor Evans. Since I've been unable to find a complete list of topics you've covered, could one of you provide me with your notes from last year?"

One of the Ravenclaw girls raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Fancourt?"

"Sir, I think we'd all agree that we'd rather learn the topics over again. I don't think I really understood them when Professor Keddle explained them to us."

"Okay, you'd like a quick review of the basic topics, then? Easily arranged. Professor Dumbledore informed me that you hadn't studied the Unforgivable Curses before, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent, that's what we'll be covering today. Since this is such a small class, treat this like an informal discussion; don't bother raising your hands. What do you know about the Unforgivables already?"

"You get sent to Azkaban if you use them," one student answered.

"There's three, I can't remember their names," another replied.

"Correct, can anyone name them?" asked James.

"Imperius, Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra or the Killing Curse," the Slytherin boy said promptly. James looked at him carefully, was he a bit too quick to name them? Then the boy continued. "You-Know-Who killed my parents with Avada Kedavra. I was hiding in the cupboard."

"Yes, he did favour it. He killed my family, too; he destroyed far too many families. Try to call him Voldemort, though, fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself, and he's long since dead. There is no way he'll be able to return again. Imperius is a charm that takes away your free will, Cruciatus stimulates the nerves and causes excruciating pain and Avada Kedavra kills you instantly, there is no defence. Let's start with the last, and supposedly most terrible, Avada Kedavra. Mr Ketteridge, would you say that it was wrong under any circumstances?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why? Is it any different from the twenty or so other death curses that aren't illegal?"

"You can't defend against it."

"So if you were fighting a band of Dark Wizards, alone, and you needed to kill them to survive, you'd rather have to use a curse that they could block?"

"Um…"

"Of course, the reverse applies too, but they don't generally care about the law and will cast it at you anyway. Let us think of another scenario, Miss Timms. You're on the battlefield and your best friend has been felled with a Gladius Hex, which hit them straight in the chest. There is no way he will be able to flee with the enemy pressing forwards to where you are. There is a chance that you, yourself, will be able to escape. Should they capture your friend, they will certainly torture her further until she dies. What do you do?"

"I can't use a Portkey to get her out?"

"It's too dangerous to shake her up like that and the glow of the Portkey will attract the enemy to you. Besides, if you're planning on being an Auror, you should be aware by now that unauthorized Portkeys are illegal."

"I suppose I'd have to kill her."

"How?"

"The most painless Killing Curse?"

"Which is?"

The girl smiled slightly, understanding, and made a guess.

" Avada Kedavra."

"Exactly. Now we'll look at a completely different charm: Wingardium Leviosa."

"Please, sir, what does it have to do with the Unforgivables?"

"You'll see. Now, you're on a battlefield and the Ministry has somehow managed to prevent the enemy's wands from casting any Dark Magic or using any of the spells usually classed as offensive. One of them casts Wingardium Leviosa on you, levitates you to one hundred meters and drops you, injuring you by breaking your back, leaving you to die, and hitting another of your side when you land, disabling them, also. Is that wrong? Mr Barbary?"

"It does more damage to my side, doesn't it? It gets rid of two wizards instead of one. Then, it's slower, too. And I suppose it hurts more, as well."

"Exactly. In this situation, would you rather be hit by Avada Kedavra or Wingardium Leviosa?"

" Avada Kedavra," they said in unison, sounding a bit surprised that he'd managed to argue them into his point of view so quickly.

"Can you think of any other times when Avada Kedavra could be used in a beneficial way?"