Terrifyingly enough, I find I enjoy teaching. Really, really enjoy it. I get frustrated easily, but only when my students aren't trying.
My first class of the day is a group of Hufflepuff first years. They're polite, respectful, uncomplaining, in awe of me and Hogwarts.
They're a little dull, actually. It's easy to see why our teachers always liked students with personality, like Fred and George, more than –
Oh, Merlin, Fred and George. I haven't let myself think about them in ages; I've kept them locked away in the compartment of my mind labeled "things that never happened."
It's not that I didn't mourn them, or that I didn't love them. Just that their deaths never felt real, that I never quite absorbed that I had lost them.
"Professor? Are you alright?" comes a concerned childish voice from behind me. I realize that I'm clutching my wand tight enough to snap it in half, and that I've stopped in the middle of an explanation.
"Yes, Ryan. I'm fine, thank you. I was jus distracted for a second there." I smile reassuringly at the class. "I used to do that all the time during History of Magic…found a charm that made my quill take notes for me."
They look intrigued, and also look determined not to ask. "The charm's name was Hermione…Professor Granger, to all of you."
The looks of astonishment on their faces are worth the embarrassment of drifting off mid-sentence. Hermione's going to kill me later, but I'm inclined to say she'll forgive me afterwards.
My next class is Gryffindor's third year, and they're considerably more entertaining than Hufflepuff.
They're done with their assignments early, so I ask them if there are any questions they have for me about Defense.
There's a long silence, and finally Cedric speaks up. "Um, professor, I think we're all wondering the same thing."
"And what is that, Cedric?"
"Well…that is, sir, you're pretty famous for, you know…" he trails off nervously.
His friend picks up where he left off. "For defeating Voldemort.."
"Right, that…" Cedric continues, "and I think we'd all like to hear about it, sir. That is, if you don't mind telling us."
I'm stunned for a moment. It occurs to me briefly that I should have expected something like this, but…dammit, I don't know what to tell these kids. That the greatest wizard who ever lived gave his life to save mine, and in the process made me his successor for fame and glory?
"Er…"
"I understand if it's too painful or whatever, sir," he offers quickly, but to my surprise I don't really mind telling him; I'm just not sure how to do it.
"No, no, it's alright. I suppose you all have the right to know what I did to deserve the job as your teacher. So, er, here goes, I guess." I take a deep, cleansing breath, trying to figure out where to begin. "So that day, the Battle of London? I was boxed in at the old Ministry offices, when all of a sudden Harry and my brother Charlie come barreling around the corner, wands out, and help me beat off this mixed army of werewolves and Death Eaters. That was bad enough –"
"You were alone, sir?" one small girl in the back asks, obviously enthralled.
"Until Harry and Charlie showed up, yeah," I answer distractedly, almost missing the look of impressed astonishment on her face. "So we finish off this crop of bad guys, and Harry's just standing there looking at me like he's never seen me before, and I can't quite figure out where the he - heck he came from. As far as Intelligence knew, he was in Poland hunting down Voldemort. So I was, you know, lost." I'd been more than lost – I'd been shaking as I stared at him, wanting to touch him more than I'd ever wanted to do anything in my life. And Charlie had just kind of smirked once he said hello.
"We stumbled back to base, in the old Ministry lobby – the Apparition wards were still up in London then – and settled in for the evening. Charlie took first guard shift," and the rest of that night isn't for kid's ears.
Harry and I had gone off to a corner to talk. He'd held on to me so tightly I was sure he'd cracked a rib, both of us unable to get past the realization that nothing had changed at all.
"I've dreamed of you every second of every day," he told me, face buried in my neck. "Don't ever let me leave you again, Ron."
"I won't," I remember murmuring into his hair. "I'll follow you, I promise."
We were still talking when Charlie came to tell Harry it was his shift. Harry headed back for the central passageway, and Charlie sat down beside me for a "brotherly chat."
"I think this whole long-distance depression thing is a terrible idea. You and Harry need to get your acts together, Ron."
Later, Harry slid under the blanket with me to say that Charlie had taken my shift, and suddenly his hands were everywhere…
"It couldn't have been more than a few hours later that they attacked again – and this time, it wasn't just Voldemort's flunkies. It was Old Moldy Wart himself. Harry was in what Hermione called his "saving-people" mode – the one where he was so focused on what he had to accomplish, he couldn't see anything else. That was always when he was in the most danger, so I stayed at his back as wave after wave of Death Eaters crashed in on us. I lost sight of Charlie pretty quickly, and thought he'd gone down, but as it turned out he had snuck around their lines and was hacking through from behind. It was pretty effective, and we had the upper hand most of the battle, until Voldemort started in. He'd seen his guys were losing, so he decided to "take care of us himself" or whatever the cliché line is. So he attacked me first, thinking I was the weakest link in the chain, I guess. I dodged a couple Avada Kedavras, and then Harry got involved, trying to distract Mister 'I'm a Creepy Dark Lord.' It worked in that it got Voldemort's attention, all right, but it also put Harry in more danger than I could accept. So I motioned Charlie to back me up, and we took a huge risk on some old Blood Magic McGonagall had mentioned in passing once. The donner de l'âme, this old French spell, if you've heard of it. Literally the 'giving of soul,' though it wasn't actually that hard; it just demanded a lot of willpower. We cast it together, and it basically took out all the Death Eaters. It didn't affect Voldemort, because it attacks the soul, and of course he didn't have one. But it let the three of us focus on him."
I take a moment, because I really want the bell to ring before I can finish my story. We all know how this ends, after all.
There's no bell, and I continue shakily, "Charlie got cascaded by some rocks when a spell ricocheted off a wall, so he was out cold. The whole room was glowing green with Avada Kedavra, because none of us were playing anymore. I almost got hit, and Harry spent a moment too long making sure I was okay…" This lie is practiced, but it still terrifies me to repeat it. "Voldemort shot off a killing curse faster than he had any right to, and I dove for Harry to try to knock him down, shield him, anything," my voice is shaking now, "but the light was all around him and then he was just this limp body in my arms…and I just sort of snapped.
"I know you all want to know how I finished Voldemort off, but to be honest I don't even know. I was in shock; I think I cast the donner de l'âme again, but I'm nowhere near sure. Whatever I did…pretty soon there was one more black-cloaked body on the floor, and…
"I don't remember much after that, not for a long time. I know, because he told me, that Charlie shook himself conscious with chills, and found me unconscious beside Harry. I know he levitated both of us out of the Ministry, and I know he contacted HQ to say Voldemort was dead. For weeks afterward, everyone had to clean up the aftereffects, what with some Death Eaters being too desperate to surrender. I missed all of it, though, because I was in a coma at St Mungo's. They blamed it on the strength of whatever spell I'd cast; I blame it on losing Harry. Then I woke up, and here I am."
There is complete, repressive silence in the classroom, except for a quiet sniffling at the back. I glance up from my hands for the first time and realize that every female in the room is in tears, and not a few of the boys.
"Not as glorious as you expected, was it? War never is. If you learn nothing else from me in this class, learn that. War is not honorable or easy or clean, and it is an evil to be avoided with all the strength you have in you."
They're all solemn, and with a desperate need to lighten the mood, I ask, "So whose class do you have next?"
There's silence; I think for a moment that they're going to ignore me, but then Sarah speaks up. "Transfiguration with Professor Granger, sir."
Hermione's going to kill me.
"Okay, then, before your Transfiguration teacher turns me into a rabbit, I'm going to make today better – who wants to relearn Cheering Charms?"