disclaimer: PEND BEST DECK LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OUROBOROS
A Harry Potter x Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha crossover
Year 6, part 1
Trouble in Paradise
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
The volume grew louder every two rings, and it wasn't long before the tone became unbearable.
A 'tempus' was barely heard from the cacophony before a hand emerged from the covers and poked around on the bedside table, searching for the source of the noise, and upon grabbing the telephone receiver, pulled it underneath the covers.
"My alarm call was set at 6 AM, it's 3:30. If this isn't an important phone call, I'm hanging up in five, four, three…" the bleary voice of Harry Potter spoke through the phone.
"Mr. Finch-Fletchley's transfer to Ilvermorny went through," a familiar voice replied from the other end. "Ilvermorny was pitched as a sports-oriented boarding school, and they went with it. Just like you predicted, Harry."
The voice gradually pulled Harry out of his funk, and though his eyes hadn't caught up yet, his mind already did.
"They're also focusing on muggle academics, since I know that guy's parents wanted him enrolled at Eton before Hogwarts," Harry thought aloud. "Where is he now?"
"Still at HQ, finalizing his departure with his parents. Professor Dumbledore fast-tracked his transfer procedure thanks to some pensieve memories and your 'clear-and-present-danger' rationale," the man on the other line answered. "You know, you've become quite the man now, Harry. Someone in your shoes would've just leave him to his house's mercy."
An annoyed grunt came in reply.
"Can you just chalk it up to 'Harry doesn't want any more drama this coming school year', Professor Lupin?" he asked, only to hear amused chuckles on the other end.
"Don't downplay your nature, Harry," the former professor answered. "It's not every day I get to see someone who got everything good from his mother and father–"
"…and there's the cleaning crew coming in, got business to take care of, call me again when you and the rest of the Order have seen Finch-Fletchley and his family off, thank you!" Harry said before putting down the phone.
If I hear another comparison with me and my parents, I'm going to vomit out of general principle, Harry thought as he staggered to the bathroom to do his early morning ritual. Gives me conniptions.
It was only halfway through his early morning deposit that he realized that he wasn't alone in the bathroom: a veela maid wearing a French maid outfit with a skirt that offered more invitation than coverage was bent over and scrubbing the bathtub.
One grunt and end of the morning deposit later, he acknowledged the hotel staff.
"Good morning," he said quietly as he pulled up his pants and pressed the button on the toilet seat.
"Ah yes, good morning, sir," the maid replied. "We did not expect you to wake this early."
"It's all right, carry on," Harry said, already used to how surreal his hotel stay was as he padded out of the bathroom and into the kitchen…
…where another veela maid wearing an apron was taking care of breakfast.
"Is the smell to your liking, sir?"
Harry just shrugged.
"Would prefer something light, going to have a business breakfast later. Thank you."
"As you wish, sir."
He left the veela maid to her cooking and made himself a cup of coffee before going to the living room.
Thankfully, the coffee was still hot when the two veela maids were finished with their business.
"Is that all you require, Mr. Graham?"
He nodded.
"Call us if you need anything, and we mean anything," the maids said in unison, their voices turning sultry before they left.
As soon as he heard the door click shut behind him, he let out a sigh of relief.
I'm never going to get used to this.
Your godfather did.
Nice one, Tom. But yeah, I kind of understand now… what you said back then, during the Yule Ball. Connections are really important.
Exactly. But yes, I doubt that your godfather didn't experience being waited on hand and foot by veela and half-veela maids who are literally waiting for you to say 'could I have some extra service'.
Hey, it's not my fault I started by asking them 'what do you like', and they answered with 'we like our heads patted'.
You're quite the piece of work, Harry. People offer themselves to you, and you respond by giving them what they want. You're some sort of fifth degree black belt in Brazilian politeness jiu jitsu.
I blame the witch for getting you and me into that Ultimate Fighting thing.
It's more her scene, yes. And the training helped us, too.
That's true.
Speaking of which, the veela are going to take it as an insult if you don't take them up on their offer of 'extra service' soon.
That call from Lucius Malfoy… it sounds an awful lot like bad news. He didn't sound quite all right. Let's get this deal done with, then figure out what to do about the veela.
We still have a week or two left before we go back home and start prepping for sixth year, mind you.
The magical quarter of Monaco in the morning looked like something out of an idyllic dream as Harry walked the streets towards his destination: one of the fancy restaurants he'd been to before, as soon as he set foot here for his long-awaited vacation.
He took confident steps to the entrance and gave the doorman a nod.
Right before the door was opened for him, the doorman nodded back and said "Ah yes, you are here for Mr. Malfoy, are you not?"
"That's right, sir," Harry replied with an easy smile.
"Second to the last corner on the right side," the doorman said as he opened the door.
Harry resisted making a face when he saw Lucius Malfoy seated impeccably and looking into the street while sipping his coffee.
Man. Even Fleur looked better after what Montague did to her.
I know. Good thing you kept your reflexes under control. Keep it up.
"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, and the elder Malfoy turned to him.
This time, Harry couldn't resist the wince.
He looks like a prune after it got into the ring for twelve rounds against Mike Tyson.
Dammit, Harry. Stop ruining the moment with your horrible analogies.
"Thank you for arriving promptly, as I have little time to spare these days," Lucius said as he motioned Harry to take a seat.
"You're welcome, sir. After what you've done on my behalf, it is the least I can do," Harry replied as breakfast was brought in. "Muggleborn families don't migrate this quickly, this smoothly."
Lucius Malfoy chuckled dryly before catching himself.
Ouch.
Ouch, indeed.
"I thought the muggle part of the family was the hard part, to be honest," the elder Malfoy said. "As it turns out, there is fertile ground to be found in the United States over a business venture they call 'the internet'. Mrs. Fletchley was all over it like a cheap suit when my… colleagues told them about said venture. Made convincing her to move their brat to Ilvermorny a lot easier."
Harry himself took a sip of the coffee before nodding.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said. "Might I ask, how did your interests handle this transaction?"
"Poorly, at first," Malfoy answered. "At least until I told them it was all about 'letting those bloody Yanks get our sloppy seconds', and then they were stumbling all over themselves trying to get those wheels greased, so to speak."
Harry smiled, but he and his Device were internally laughing out hard enough that metaphorical tears were coming out of their eyes.
Oh, that is brilliant.
I have to add that to our playbook. Mr. Malfoy's awesome.
As breakfast continued, Harry asked about what had been happening around the wizarding world starting from the time he fought that Ukranian Ironbelly until that morning.
Lucius Malfoy was surprisingly forthright with providing information, and as they slowly whittled down the breakfast they were accustomed to, Harry realized that the world continued to turn even as he took some much-needed downtime here in Monaco.
The Death Eaters had been involved in a massive firefight in the Amazon jungle; in pursuit of what appeared to be a forbidden ritual, they ran into a joint Brazilian and Argentinian task force.
Half of them were able to escape with their prize, and the others were swallowed up by the jungle.
The Minister of Magic finalized his resignation shortly after Knockturn Alley was razed by dragon fire, and there was no doubt in people's minds that the Dark Lord had returned, as the dragon of Gringotts breathed a gout of sickly-green flames into the air in the shape of the Dark Mark.
Despite all that, the Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen in English wizarding society, apparently nursing their wounds from the encounter in South America.
It was at the close of breakfast when Ouroboros reminded Harry about the veela thing.
Look, Harry. There's a ticket you need to be punching while you're here.
And I'm telling you, Tom, I'm just here to enjoy the sights and be under absolutely no pressure to be doing anything at all. Isn't that what a vacation is for?
Sigh… is this about your dreams?
Yes, it is. Are you sure you're still processing all this weird video data?
I am, and I can't make heads or tails of it, either. What I do know is, you shouldn't let these weird dreams keep you from what you need to do here. If you go to Hogwarts as you are now…
…I am going to be easily led around the nose by a pretty female student for Morgana knows what purposes.
Exactly.
"…and now that we have all of that out of the way, let me get to the heart of the matter: my son is being recruited into Hogwarts' most unpopular club."
Harry and Ouroboros weren't surprised at all by this.
"Not to sound preachy, sir, but I thought you would approve of this."
"In more peaceful times, I would," he replied, "but given what has been happening, my standing in the organization is on shaky ground. With that and my son… I fear he will be made to do something impossible to be accepted there."
Harry couldn't hide his frustrated grunt.
"I am not going to impose something like an Unbreakable Vow on you, but I will ask, as a father, that you please help my son before he does something stupid, like last time."
Harry Potter took a moment to think, then extended his hand.
"You got it, Mr. Malfoy."
They shook.
Sobering Up
It was with the air of a condemned man that Harry returned to his hotel room.
Instead of an outburst, he just plopped onto the bed.
"Why, oh fucking why, does this shit always happen to me?" he asked after screaming into the pillow.
Lucius Malfoy knows his days are numbered. Do you think he would do this if he had control over his fellow club members?
I know. I understand. I just can't help but feel like shit about it.
At least you can get it out before you can keep going with a clear head.
Yeah, I suppose.
What do you think will they put Draco up to?
I have no freaking clue.
Besides, you know that if shit hits the fan, it's going to happen this year, if not next year.
I know, I know… we've always worked according to the "hope for the best, prepare for the worst" model, and it hasn't failed for us so far.
Exactly. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. No use worrying about the future. Now… about those veela.
Not my fault they think 'extra services' is getting petted.
Ah, well, that IS your fault. You've spoiled the veela maids here.
Harry couldn't help but laugh at that.
As his vacation in Monaco wound down, Harry ended up being the darling of the veela maids working there, and got to learn where all the best restaurants and souvenir stores were.
It was only when he was on the flight back to England that he and his Device found out that a full third of the veela maids working at the hotel weren't maids at all.
You think they went there for my head patting skills?
Maybe. Wait a minute. I know this one. Anastasia Nikolaevna.
Like the Russian princess?
Yes. She's… affiliated with the French Unspeakables as a resource person on behalf of the veela.
What would someone like that be doing in Monaco and putting on a frilly French maid outfit?
Not the head patting, I can assure you, Harry.
He took a few minutes to figure it out.
Fleur?
It's possible. You saw Montague's face when Fleur just showed up none the worse for wear, right?
Yeah. Can't believe we got to see Sébastien Delacour's epic resignation from the French ministry live.
He was content to let bygones be bygones until Montague junior tried to pull the same shit with Gabrielle. I heard a couple of curse breakers are still trying to fill in the two Montague-shaped holes in the French ministry office.
And it's not like they can track them down. Blood purists can't breathe in space, after all.
Harry and Ouroboros laughed it up the rest of the way back to England, souvenirs for his family and friends in hand and enjoying their much-deserved vacation time in Monaco.
What's My Age Again?
Instead of the Knight Bus, Harry ended up getting dropped off at Little Whinging, and decided to walk the rest of the way home (storage charms were a really great help for that).
It was a beautiful afternoon for a walk, and thanks to his mentors teaching him to enjoy the small things too, Harry took his time, taking the scenic route home.
He was in the town center when he spotted something interesting.
His cousin was in an alley, handing over a couple of notes to a very suspicious man wearing a trench coat, which handed some sort of package in a paper bag back.
With the potential for mischief at best or an intervention at worst, Harry prepared himself to approach Dudley as nonchalantly as possible.
His cousin turned a corner when he caught up to him.
"Dudley!" he called, and his cousin stood ramrod straight upon hearing his voice.
"H-Harry!" he replied. "Back from your vacation?"
"Yep!" Harry answered. "Got a ton of souvenirs to give out. Come on, let's walk home."
The walk home slowly grew more and more awkward.
"What's going on, Dudley? You've been acting weird since I caught up with you."
Dudley just sighed.
"I'll show you when we get home and when Mum and Dad are out," he replied, shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Sure thing," Harry said, and though the tension was gone, Dudley still felt very awkward around his cousin.
Wonder why?
Guess we'll find out sooner or later.
His return home to Privet Drive was met with, of course, celebration, giving of gifts, and more good news: Petunia got a part-time job helping out a restaurant design their dishes, and Vernon got another promotion.
Once the celebrations were done and Harry was just about to fall asleep, he heard a knock on the door of his room.
"Duds, it's late," Harry said as he opened the door a bit.
"The VHS player is in your room," Dudley explained, and once he was let in, he procured the 'contraband': one of those Japanese cartoons similar to the ones he and Harry watched last year.
The imagery on the cover, though, had Harry getting a weird tic in his eye.
What the flying bloody fuck is this?!
Ouroboros only replied with some creepy chuckling.
He put in the tape, opened the TV, and pressed play.
Thirty of the most awkward minutes in both Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley's life later, Dudley muttered his thanks, returned the 'contraband' to the packaging, put that in the paper bag, and shuffled out of his room.
Don't, Ouroboros. Not one word.
Fine. I'm just going to process what we just witnessed for now.
The awkward incident put aside for the moment, Harry continued his vacation in Privet Drive without undue incident, except for something that happened a couple of days just before Harry was due to return to Diagon Alley to make his purchases for sixth year (most of these were his school things that were destroyed by the Hufflepuffs).
He even went to Doyle's gym to do a few workouts, having his cousin show him how a typical day of training goes.
Once they were on the walk home, Dudley was regaling his cousin with tales of his gym-mates' popularity with the ladies.
"How about you, Dudley? Anyone there preferring a Pathfinder over a Skyline?" he asked.
"Oh yeah," Dudley replied. "Nice girl named Liz. Studies at the all-girls' school across Smeltings. How about you? I'll bet you'll need a bat to beat away the girls chasing after you."
Harry briefly recalled the times the Gryffindor chasers were fawning all over him.
"Something like that, yeah," he said with a smile, right before a sharp pain blossomed in his arm.
"You sly dog!" Dudley said, all smiles after drawing his fist back. "Mr. Doyle tells me to not bother with these kinds of things, it gets in the way of training."
"Just like that tape you bought?"
"Harry, that's different. Mr. Doyle tells me I've got the talent, I just need the discipline so I can turn pro no problems."
"Mr. Doyle thinks you've got what it takes to turn pro?"
Dudley nodded proudly.
"Mum won't let me turn pro until I finish high school, though."
His shoulders fell, and Harry put an arm around his cousin's shoulder.
"That's a different deal altogether, Dudley," Harry said, and they both laughed on the walk home.
Upon their arrival home, Privet Drive looked like it was arranged for a celebration, and even their Aunt Marge looked, well, much less unpleasant than usual.
Both cousins didn't need any prompting to help out, and at dinner, Vernon and Petunia brought out the good news: Dudley would be a big brother.
Harry looked at his cousin's face melt with joy, and as the family celebrated, he took a careful sip of his drink as he was reminded of what he has to do at Hogwarts: this wizarding cold war would inevitably go hot, and it would be up to him to keep his family out of the crossfire.
And as the celebration continued through the night, Ouroboros had an important message to give his wielder.
Harry. I think I know what that vision was.
Great. What's it about?
Remember that tape you watched with Dudley? I think the dream was in the point of view of one of those things.
Wait, those things?
Yes, Boss. I mean, it's the only explanation I know that makes sense.
Ouroboros, we watched a cartoon. A cartoon for horny adults, but still a cartoon. It's not real.
What was that line from Shakespeare? "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy"?
Okay, let's assume it's real, but how the heck am I having visions of turning into one of those even before I watch them?!
That is something we will have to look into when we get back to school, Harry.
Great. Another mystery to solve.
So Why Don't You Run…?
The days passed in a blur, much against Harry's wishes, and before he knew it, it was once again time to go to Diagon Alley to resupply for the upcoming school year.
Unlike before, he decided to bunk at 12 Grimmauld Place to take care of Order business and at the same time go to Diagon Alley with the junior Order members to do all their school purchases together.
It was nice to have company again, and yes, Harry did get them souvenirs from his romp through magical Monaco.
It was after the little party they threw upon his arrival that the first repercussions of his public reveal came.
Nearly every one of them had gone to bed, while Harry was still looking out the window as sleep still eluded him.
"Still up?" a familiar voice asked, and Harry turned to see Neville walking towards him. "Didn't figure you to be a night owl."
"Normally, I'm not," Harry answered. "Just had a lot of things on my mind as of late… this might be the last time we'll all be making merry together, what with the Dark Lord business and all."
"I know what you mean. It's like you don't know when something's going to be lost, so you treasure them however you can, for as long as you can…" Neville thought aloud. "Professor Dumbledore has also been training me."
"Let me guess, he started back in fourth year."
"That's right," Neville said with a nod. "Gran asked him why, and I remember his answer: 'there must always be a Boy-who-Lived'."
Harry's eyes narrowed a moment, and then he shrugged.
"I didn't train as hard as I did because I'm another Boy-who-Lived, if that's what you're thinking," Neville continued. "The Weasleys, Hermione, the friends I made in Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the students of Hogwarts… when I think of my parents' fate, it makes me want to grow even stronger, to protect them…"
"You think the headmaster knows this?"
"He probably has. I was working on Occlumency before the year ended… but at Knockturn Alley… seeing you fight off the Dark Lord-possessed dragon…"
Neville sighed.
"Am I ever going to be strong enough?"
"Neville," Harry explained, "you're already making more progress than you think. You're setting yourself up against an impossible standard. If you're chasing my shadow… you will always fall short, and start lashing out against the world, because you can't catch up."
He pointed to himself.
"I also have shadows I'm chasing, and I know they're impossible to reach, but at least I know they're impossible, and any progress I make is worth my effort."
"Who do you… wait, are you talking about the Witch of Dun Scaith?"
Harry smiled sadly.
"That's right. So… how about this, then? I'm going to help you. In the same way the Witch helped me, I'm going to help you."
"You'd really do that?"
"If something bad happens to me, someone has to pick up the slack, and, well... you're the best one here to do just that."
After a few days of decompressing, it was time to go back to Diagon Alley.
Unlike before, where a certain part of the Alley was sinister and shadowed, even in the daytime, the new Knockturn Alley was still somewhat dark, but it was now more gentle and welcoming than before.
Most of the rebuilding process ended up displacing the previously-established businesses there, and all the peddlers of dark wares were now bunched up in a corner of Carkitt Market they called the Knockturn Bazaar, trying to sell their last items at a tremendous loss, and under the ever-watchful eyes of the Aurors patrolling.
Needless to say, they couldn't get much business done.
Oddly enough, it was at Carkitt Market again where Harry wandered to after having his school things shipped off to 12 Grimmauld Place. Yes, the proprietors of the Knight Bus now had a service where they would deliver things to places, and so far, it was quite the revolutionary idea.
But it was at Carkitt Market that Harry ran into Draco and several other Slytherins in his year. He could see the school things they purchased on one table while they were enjoying lunch on the other.
"Draco, Vince, Greg… and Viola."
Draco was sipping on an odd muggle beverage that was the rage in Carkitt Market's food stalls at the moment, and nearly spat out his drink upon hearing the greeting.
After the three others waited until he got his bearing back, they waved to Harry.
"Heard you two made Prefect," Harry said. "Congratulations. You aiming for Head Boy now, Draco?"
He positively preened.
"Mother says I should keep going," he replied proudly. "Father, too."
"Good to know. Also… I kind of forgot to thank the four of you for that one time back in Hufflepuff House, what with everything happening so fast. Here," he said, as he brought out the souvenirs he picked out from Monaco, giving them to the four Slytherins.
"What's with the quill, Potter?" Pansy asked.
Harry's grin only stretched wider.
"I've seen bits of what you've been writing," he whispered conspiratorially to her, and when he pulled his head back, Pansy's head was magically replaced by an enlarged tomato, much to the amusement of Draco and his young men Friday. "Anyway, I've got to go back to the mini firebirds, how about we catch up on the train… come again, Greg?"
"I said," Gregory Goyle said much louder, "I don't understand why you are hanging around with those traitors."
Harry put a hand on his shoulder.
"Draco told you why, right?" Harry asked, and when both Crabbe and Goyle nodded, he nodded back at them. "You'll understand eventually. Just keep helping Draco out the way you're doing now. Same with you, Viola."
"My name is not Vio–"
"Oh, would you look at the time, I'd better be heading out. See you guys at the Express."
He walked away from a sputtering Pansy, a chuckling Draco, and a pair of confused men Friday with a smile on his face.
By the time he got to Flourish and Blotts, Gryffindor's golden trio was already there waiting for him, shopping bags filled with books and other items they would need for their sixth year.
"Ready to go?" he asked them, and they nodded.
The trip back to 12 Grimmauld Place was filled with nothing but small talk and plans for the NEWT exams, though one detail nagged at Harry: who would be teaching Defense and Potions.
Harry knew little about the incoming Potions professor, and Ouroboros was surprisingly enigmatic about him ("you need to meet him firsthand to take the measure of him", he said). It was announced a few days before term that until the end of October, their Defense Professor would be the headmaster himself, because of some event that would happen across the month.
With a brand-new set of school things for his second-to-the-last year in Hogwarts, Harry was now ready.
He still wondered whether Hufflepuff would mess with his school things this year, the same way the Ravenclaws did with Luna Lovegood's.
C'mon And Ride It (The Train)
This year's trip to Hogwarts was a lot different than before: thanks to Harry's heroics, he got a train car all to himself on the journey there.
Naturally, with him wanting to "share the wealth", he booked all his friends onto said car, regardless of House affiliation.
Thankfully, his presence was enough to keep the typical Gryffindor versus Slytherin shenanigans from happening, and in between their prefect duties, were just content with exchanging electric stares and snide remarks at each other.
All the while, Harry was getting into a spirited conversation with Luna Lovegood about how her life had been since acquiring Elpis.
"Oh, it's been wonderful. My school things are now where I leave them," she said offhandedly. "Professor Flitwick is a bit put out by me, saying that I have to ease on blowing up my housemates – but why would I do that?"
Ouroboros resisted the urge to laugh out loud as it and Harry made the connection.
"Luna, you have your mother as a literal Intelligent Device," Harry explained.
"What's that got to do with it? Oh, and thanks to Elpis, I can choose when to see the nargles."
Harry just smiled and steered the conversation to what they had been doing during the summer – and yes, he did save a souvenir or two for Luna, too.
Did you say that the process that made me was the same process that made his Device, too?
That's right, Elpis.
Hmm… Something isn't quite right with Harry's Device. I've only noticed it now.
Devices aren't designed to operate independently against their wielders, right?
Yes, they are. But there is something more than meets the eye with Ouroboros. Keep a cautious eye out, Luna.
Sure thing!
The rest of the trip took place without incident.
Out, am I?
Nothing much happened on the boat ride and chariot ride to Hogwarts proper, except for when Luna and Harry gawked at the thestrals. Professor Hagrid – who had just acquired his brand-new education degree and was now working on his master's – engaged them in some talk about the creatures, mentioning that taking care of them would be part of their NEWT syllabus in Care of Magical Creatures.
The Hogwarts feast goes about as well as Harry expected, except for what happened just before the second course was served.
Headmaster Dumbledore stood up and began to address everyone present.
"Some of you are wondering why I picked this time now to speak on a grave injustice that has happened to one of ours… from one of ours," he began in a voice clearly tinged with disappointment. "One of our best and brightest, due to circumstances beyond his control, was forced out of his own House."
He saw the badgers looking around uneasily. Good.
"During the Halloween feast two years ago, a prestigious tournament was held. It was supposed to be three schools competing in it, but because of the intervention of a figure of legend that Hogwarts has ties to, a fourth champion was selected."
He cleared his throat.
"That champion's name was Harold Graham."
You could have heard a pin drop in the dining hall.
"He was a part of Hufflepuff House, as was the champion for this school, Cedric Diggory. And despite his lack of resources against what three wizarding schools could muster, Mr. Graham did not just hold his own… he was the victor of the Triwizard."
"This is what everyone knows. What none of you know is that in order to win the tournament, Mr. Diggory sought to find the symbols of Hogwarts within this school, to gain an advantage to win the tournament. Cedric did not expect to be possessed by the Dark Lord at his weakest moment – during the tournament's final battle with Mr. Graham."
Everyone at the feast gasped.
"It was for this reason that I proclaimed the Dark Lord Voldemort's return," he continued, eliciting another gasp from the students. "Mr. Diggory moved to a different school to ensure that no traces of the Dark Lord would remain within him after his possession. However, during the past year, instead of settling differences and working together, Hufflepuff House did the unthinkable and unofficially removed Harold Graham from their membership."
Now everyone's eyes were on the Badgers, who were squirming uncomfortably in their seats.
"And at the close of the past year, who put life and limb on the line when the dragon of Gringotts was possessed by the Dark Lord yet again? Harold Graham… though in the aftermath of that battle, it was revealed to everyone that he was none other than Harry Potter."
"In the wake of this, I, in my capacity as headmaster of this school, declare Harry Potter as an apprentice of the school proper, a member of Hufflepuff House only in name. The details of this arrangement will be worked on until the Halloween Feast, which is in the wake of the International Confederation of Potioneers Symposium, which will be held in the first two weeks of October, in Mahoutokoro."
"Is that why Professor Snape will not be teaching Potions this year?" a student asked, and the headmaster nodded.
"Yes, that is so," the headmaster answered. "Professor Severus Snape will represent both Hogwarts and Wizarding Britain in this prestigious international event."
"Those events require an understudy," a familiar student asked as she raised her hand. "Will there be a competition to determine who will make it there?"
"No, as an understudy has already been appointed," Dumbledore replied, and before any other student could ask further questions, he clapped his hands twice, and the second course of the evening feast was revealed.
As always, when the food appeared, everybody dug in immediately.
The More Things Change
Once the House Elves guided Harry to where he would be staying for the next year, he just smiled.
Yep, this place again.
Reminds me about how you took all the time to study preservation charms just to keep the Witch's smell here, you sly dog, you.
Your words cannot break my calm, as I am in my happy place once again.
Yeah, however, you're going to have to get down to business pretty soon. We'll be heading off to Japan at the end of September, so we only have a month to get ready.
We did all that practice before and after Monaco. I hope it's enough.
Can't believe nobody in the Order knows you're the understudy.
Well, I had Kreacher keep an eye out on my potions lab. Nothing got past the guy after he misplaced that 'precious' thing he kept going on about.
You think Fletchley took it?
I don't think so. Kreacher looked at that guy like a piece of poop on his shoe, and was especially vigilant around him, even worse after he misplaced that thing… whatever it was.
Now's not the time. We're going to have to convert the classroom next to this room into a potions lab. Good thing Professor's Snape schedule is also free, we can have it built to his specifications.
You remember the look on his face when I showed him my OWL results and that NEWT mock exam?
Harry, I saved a photograph of it for you.
Thanks, Tom.
Never mind that. Time to hit the ground running.
Yep.
Unlike before, the Hogwarts feast was held on Friday, allowing the students to acquaint themselves with the school for a bit before classes would start.
Harry expected weirdness to happen starting on the first day of classes, but what happened on the night before was something even he didn't expect.
Because of what happened over the past two years, Pomona Sprout had taken quite the lecture from both the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress over how she handled – or didn't handle – the Harry Potter brouhaha.
It was quite the sight for the newer Hufflepuffs to see their head of House rain down metaphorical fire and brimstone onto her badgers, calling them all worse than Death Eaters for what they all did, and they would be lucky if they got a commendation letter from her once they graduated.
She knew that Potter wouldn't want to go back here, but it was their house's nature to keep trying, even if she already knew that Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill would be more fruitful.
It was in this mood that she opened her eyes upon hearing the loud banging on her office door.
After a moment to rub the sleep from her eyes, she pulled on a wrapper, opened the door, only to see Harry Potter standing there menacingly, holding a large bundle within what looked like a standard-issue Hogwarts autumn blanket.
He dropped the bundle onto the floor, turned, and then left without a word, ignoring the familiar squeal from within the bundle.
Pomona partly untied the knot holding up the bundle to see a very embarrassed Susan Bones within.
The Potions Professor
By the time Harry was in the Dining Hall to have breakfast before the first day of classes officially began, he was still in a foul mood over what had happened the previous night.
Thankfully, there were enough beddings in the apprentice's quarters to replace what was lost, and the duplicating charm wasn't that far ahead of the restoration charm, so Harry didn't have to spend that much time tidying up after Susan Bones' stunt.
"What, something on my face?" Harry asked as he saw Gryffindor's golden trio at one of the breakfast tables.
"You look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, mate. Long night?" Ron asked, while Neville and Hermione nodded.
"Something like that, yes," Harry admitted, and before he was even done sitting, a plate full of the typical English breakfast was arrayed before him.
"Mind if we sit here?" Harry heard a voice ask from the opposite side, and turned to see Draco, Vince, Greg, and Viola Pansy.
He could almost see the sparks fly before he put up a hand for calm.
"Eh, sure," Harry said, and as they did, Harry saw that someone had taken up the spot opposite him.
"Good morning, everyone," Luna Lovegood announced, and as soon as the food was there, a tense breakfast ensued.
It was halfway through breakfast that Luna thought aloud and broke the ice between all of them.
"Haven't you noticed?" Luna asked. "Those three are from Gryffindor. Draco and the others are Slytherin. I'm a Ravenclaw and Harry here is a Hufflepuff. We have everyone in all four houses here."
"You know what?" Crabbe said. "You're right."
For the rest of the meal, it was less tense and more cordial, and when Pansy got the Daily Prophet…
"Well, I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it," she said out loud. "Knew Skeeter was looking to take Fudge down. It was her expose that ultimately got him to step down."
"That 'no, the Dark Lord isn't back' stance really did a number on his political capital," Hermione agreed.
"I mean, how else would everyone react to a dragon creating the Dark Mark in the night sky out of dragon flames?" Pansy asked, eliciting chuckles from everyone on the table.
The rest of meal after that was a lot less tense.
After a Charms class that was little more than a retrospective of OWL year and a preview of NEWT year, Professor Flitwick asked Harry to stay behind for a while.
"I've never had the chance to ask you this since last year, but I'm guessing the food Severus brought to the faculty's winter solstice party was your aunt's cooking, is it not?"
"That's right, Professor," Harry answered.
"I knew it. The last time I saw such sublime and impeccable spell work was from your mother. Your work with preservation charms… just that enough and you can get a pass on this year's NEWT, easily."
"Well, I'm trying not to just pass this year's NEWTs, Professor. I want to challenge myself."
"I say, you really are your parents' son!"
Amidst all the praise he got from Professor Flitwick, Harry just resisted rolling his eyes.
This won't do to help me know my parents better. Every professor I've talked to so far – current and previous – they all keep saying that my mum and dad piss ambrosia and shit diamonds.
But your occlument reversal of Professor Snape…
I know. I'm still trying to make sense of it.
"…and with that, I should get you to partner up with another inventive spellcaster. She might be in the year behind you, but she is just as inventive as you are graceful with your charms. Besides, I'd like to see how you would mentor Miss Weasley."
Miss Weasley? Is Professor Flitwick talking about Ginny Weasley?
I think so.
"Well, if my schedule permits it, I could spare a few hours each week…" Harry said.
"Splendid! I knew you'd think of passing on your skills. Off you go, now."
Harry left the Charms classroom appropriately perplexed: he knew that Ginny was also in those Defense Association classes started by the Gryffindors, so it would be easy to be in the same place as she was, but how would he breach the topic to her?
Ron, after all, had portrayed her as one of his biggest fans… the version of him that was in those books, not the actual Harold Graham or Harry Potter.
With those thoughts in mind, Harry caught up to the Gryffindors and Slytherins in the dungeon, where they were making small talk and speculating how their new Potions professor would measure up while they waited.
Several minutes later, and despite Harry's otherwise perfect control over himself, Harry couldn't help but scrunch up his nose at the older gentleman walking into the classroom.
What's up with that, Harry?
Will tell you after class, Tom. Have to work double-time and keep my game face on.
If it was just a feeling of dislike towards the man, Harry could handle it. But there was… something in the man's demeanor that just filled Harry with utter distaste.
Still, this one was supposed to be a Potions master at the same level as Professor Snape, so Harry decided to stay professional when dealing with this Professor Slughorn fellow.
He started the class with a very un-Snape like greeting, and had everyone prepping their potions kits before he would measure their skills.
"You might think NEWT Potions will be easier than what Professor Snape might teach, but I have to warn you that this is a whole echelon of difficult greater than the most difficult task in your OWL Potions test," Professor Slughorn said as he wrote down a list of those items in the OWL test they had just finished a few months ago. "I want to see your skill level now, so that I can see who is ahead of, on, or behind the curve… No, no, no. We're not going to start on the NEWT level yet, Mr. Nott. Consider this a refresher or diagnostic."
As Slughorn was writing down the instructions for the test potion, Harry was cursing himself inwardly.
Did we get Advanced Potion Making? It should be in my Potions kit.
No, it's not, Harry. Do you remember? We just had the very good fortune of going into Flourish and Blotts just as they were doing inventory. And by Morgana's pinky toe, they were all out of it.
We owled them a pre-order, right?
Pre-orders for those books don't come in until next year, Harry.
Fuck me.
"…and you should have your copies in hand when… oh dear. Mr. Potter, your copy of Advanced Potion Making?"
Harry seemed to struggle to get the words out, but he did eventually.
"I pre-ordered a copy," he said, shoulders deflating.
Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he could see Nott was about to break out into laughter when Draco gave him a nudge with his elbow.
"Oh, yes, I forgot just how long it takes Flourish and Blotts to take care of pre-orders…" the professor said as he took out his wand, traced a few arcs in the air, and two copies of the very book he needed flew out of the classroom cupboards and into Harry and Ron's table.
Yep. That's Slughorn's style, all right. Make the awesome seem mundane.
You seem in awe.
Of course. He taught me a lot of things.
"…Thank you, Professor," Harry said as he leafed open the copy.
"Keep that for now and return it to me when the year is done. It's not in the best condition, but if you are a good hand at cleaning and preserving charms… take care of that at your own risk."
Thankfully, the professor had his own copy of last academic year's OWL, and the class had no actual potion making, just theoretical discussion of the Potions they had to make for the test.
As Harry finished reading through the potion in the borrowed text, he began skimming it in its entirety, and immediately noticed something: the same handwriting in the fourth and fifth year Potions textbooks the Room of Requirement had gifted to him.
Of course, a few minutes after that, classes were dismissed, and there was around an hour of free time before the next class.
"Ooh. Divination with Trelawney and… wait, who's Firenze?" someone asked from behind Harry, but at that point, he wasn't into figuring that out, he had to get back to the apprentice's quarters as soon as possible.
What's the hurry?
Ugh! Professor Slughorn is just as good a teacher as Professor Snape is. There's just… ugh! I can't explain it.
Give it a try, Harry.
He's slimy. The man feels slimy. Not slimy like Umbridge's toad slime, but slimy like… the kind of stuff Dudley uses on his hair before he goes out on the town with his buddies.
How interesting.
Yeah, it is. I mean, I could feel people before, but this is completely different.
Hmm. You might want to ask the Witch about it. You've been having these episodes more and more since you did that perfect occlument reversal a few months back.
You're right, and I haven't even made it up to Professor Snape for that stunt yet… just apologized.
Don't worry about that for now.
True. I need to take a shower, wash all this gunk off me.
There isn't any gunk on you, but if it will get you working better…
Yeah, I just need to have fortitude in this case. Still, though…
What's on your mind?
Professor Slughorn is some kind of people's professor. Everyone likes him.
Except you.
Didn't I say I'd endure Professor Slughorn? Even if he comes across as slimy, he is still a very good teacher, just as good as Professor Snape. That's more than enough reason to put up with him.
Sometimes, I'm wondering if you're growing up too fast.
Do you want me to say Professor Slughorn feels yucky?
I take that back.
They both laughed.
More Revelations
The week of reorienting themselves back to the academic grind passed as usual, except for a few noteworthy things happening.
First was the last class of Friday before the weekend: Defense Against the Dark Arts under Professor Dumbledore.
Unlike previous classes which was limited to book learning thanks to Umbridge's edicts, old war stories from Professor Moody after the book was done, then make-up classes once the Head Inquisitor left the school… the first Defense class was nothing but practical lessons: emergency medical spells and even some Muggle exercises in first aid.
One Slytherin had raised her hand and asked why bother learning Muggle methods, when the headmaster answered her that in emergencies, sometimes a wand might not be available immediately.
"The saying goes, 'it is better to have it, and not need it, rather than need it, and not have it' applies here, Miss Bulstrode," Dumbledore said kindly. "Your booklet should have something by a fellow named Heimlich; we shall be looking into that in our next meeting. Dismissed… Longbottom, Weasley, Granger, stay behind."
As Harry left the classroom with all the other students, he already knew what the upcoming conversation was going to be about. The Defense Association was going to continue for this year, and it would focus on making up for the time and lessons they had lost due to Fudge and Umbridge's educational edicts.
He had stopped to pick up a light meal before going to the Room of Requirement, where his skill as the Witch's apprentice had been put to use in training the members of the Defense Association.
Draco and the other Slytherins had also decided to sit beside him as he had this early dinner, and were talking about how Professor Slughorn had gotten the headmaster to bring back the Dueling Club.
"We're going to relax a bit and head out to Hogsmeade on the weekend," Draco said. "What about you?"
"Remedial Defense," Harry replied with a shrug.
Once his meal was finished, he made his way to the Room of Requirement, and upon entering, prepared it for the upcoming Defense Association meeting, pulling on the cloak he wore when assisting the moderators of this little club.
Upon completing his duties, he took up a seat in the corner of the room and took to skimming the book of Advanced Potion Making he had – the one whose doodles in the margins resembled the ones on the Potions textbooks he had for the past two years.
His eyes spied some sort of spell that could suspend a target upside-down, scrawled on the margins of the pages dedicated to the quality of alchemical reagents when creating Potions using the Paracelsus style…
"…and yes, this club exists because our Defense curriculum was sabotaged last school year. Sure, we have our OWLs, but it's better to overcompensate than to suddenly have a drop-off in OWL performance due to what the Minister and the High Inquisitor did. That means… anyone from any House is welcome here, if they think they have not learned as much as they should have from the previous year's Defense classes," Hermione Granger addressed the members of the Defense Association, old ones and new.
"It means, if you want to catch up, this is the place to be. If you want to work on your Dueling, the Wizard over there, in the corner, wearing that cloak, he's our Dueling specialist, he'll be the one giving you practical assistance," Neville Longbottom continued.
"Finally… what are two second-year Slytherins doing here?" Ronald Weasley asked upon seeing two faces Harry knew from before, but couldn't quite place now.
"Should they even be here?" a third-year Hufflepuff asked, and Hermione rounded on her.
"Did you know we had a man on the inside? One of ours was an Inquisitor."
That announcement sent shock waves across the room.
"That's right," Hermione replied. "We had already accounted for potential infiltration… because we already had an infiltrator at the very beginning, and it was his work that allowed us to continue this association from then up to now. But enough about that, let's get the first Defense Association meeting going, shall we?"
Several cheers later, and the impromptu class was on.
Unlike before, Harry was in his element here: the cloak he had on had some kind of enchantment that distorted his voice, making him nearly unrecognizable.
It was why he was able to help everyone with their spells; it was also the same kind of 'help' he gave Draco and the others whenever Umbridge wanted them to 'train' in handling 'those upstart minions of Dumbledore', so she said.
Fair Play, Fair Duel
Shortly before the remedial Defense club meeting ended, some of the students were talking about the Dueling Club, and Hermione was convinced to have an exhibition of sorts between their moderator Neville and the mysterious cloaked wizard who was their dueling specialist.
When the makeshift arena was set and the audience was seated, Ron stepped in the middle of the two duelists.
"First to a point wins. Four spells only. What are your choices?"
"I'll pick the Banishing Charm and the Full Body Bind," Neville said confidently.
"Ooh, looks like you've been doing some work over the summer," Harry said, his distorted voice making his amused tone seem sinister. "I'll go with Old Faithful: Disarming Charm and Stunner."
"All right. These four spells are the only ones you will cast in this duel!" Ron announced. "Duelists, to your places!"
The two wizards took up their spots, and once at the ready, Ron went to the middle, and raised up his arm.
"Ready… and begin!"
"Well, well, well…" Harry said as his left arm hung limply while he held Ouroboros in his right hand, gesturing towards Neville who was standing still, arms and legs stuck together as he made his best impression of a totem pole. "Thought you'd never get to blow the hood off my cloak. Even got my left arm. Well done."
The members of a particular House were now looking at one of their instructors in this remedial Defense club with absolute horror on their faces.
"Oh, knock it off," Harry said offhandedly, the need for subterfuge via the cloak already gone. "I promised these three guys that I would be a professional in this club, and I see no reason to break that promise."
"That's right," Hermione said as she sauntered over to the Hufflepuffs now shaking in their shoes. "For all of last year, Harry Potter – or you may have known him as Harold Graham at the time – was helping out here, in between his duties as an inquisitor. And while he does have every right and opportunity to retaliate, he hasn't… because he believes in what this Defense Association stands for."
She's laying it on pretty thick there.
Yep. As thick as a bowl of Hogwarts' breakfast oatmeal.
"You should have nothing to fear from him… or will we hear from him about what you will do after this?"
Every Hufflepuff couldn't share their heads fast enough.
"Good," Hermione said. "I am to be assured that there will be no… incidents of this sort happening, moving forward? Harry?"
"None," Harry replied. "If anyone here needs help with Defense, I'm here to help, regardless of circumstances."
"Well, there you go," Hermione told the Hufflepuffs, and that seemed to calm them for the moment.
The rest of the DA class proceeded without incident, though the Hufflepuffs were all stepping on eggshells around Harry, who found their squirming rather entertaining.
Of particular hilarity was when Susan Bones approached him just as the meeting was dissolved.
"Harry," she said. "I'm sorry about—"
"Sorry about what?" Harry asked back loudly, and after he saw everyone looking at them, he turned back to Susan, who was blushing so hard, her head was steaming.
"Nothing, never mind," she said, and quickly made her way to the rest of the Hufflepuffs, much to Harry and Ouroboros' amusement.
Orientationeering
The schoolwork and preparations for NEWTs caused time to pass by at an accelerated pace for Harry's perception.
Between studies, DA meetings, and Potions practice, Harry was juggling a lot of things, but instead of being stressed out, he found that he was enjoying the challenge.
He made a note of what had happened in the couple weeks before: the newly-named "Breakfast Club" of Hogwarts had been established, with Gryffindor's 'Golden Trio' on one end; Draco with his entourage on the other; then Harry and Luna rounding things out.
It was during one of these breakfasts that the members of the club began to speculate who the 'understudy' appointed to assist Professor Snape in that ICP symposium. In the interest of sparking conversation, Hermione decided to get everyone else to think who the student best-qualified to be in this position, instead of out-and-out saying who her educated guess was.
After the two second-years had reported that they had gotten better at both Charms and Transfiguration thanks to Potter's help in the DA meetings, two more Slytherins joined the DA: Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before the two witches would also join the Breakfast Club.
Several others would be part of this informal association, and it was a few days before October that it was announced that Harry Potter was the 'understudy' going with Professor Snape.
Instead of envy, everyone in the Breakfast Club congratulated him, and hoped he would get them some treats from Japan just like when he went to Monaco.
Harry said he couldn't guarantee anything, but he'd try his best.
Harry couldn't believe it if he hadn't gone through it himself. The schedule he had was rather brutal, but he thought of the bright side of it: he didn't have as much drama to go through.
There was, however, a matter that was starting to distracting him from his studies.
He bore it with his characteristic fortitude, promising himself that he would hold on at least until the symposium, to take it up with the professor he was currently apprenticed to: Severus Snape.
Harry did spend some time calling the Witch of Dun Scaith via his Device, just for small talk and to tell her school was doing fine, and not to worry about him so much.
Now, it was the last day of September, and once professor and understudy had LCY staff check everything, they were on a plane to Tokyo, Japan for the ICP Symposium.
"Fourteen hours, huh," Harry muttered as he eased himself onto the really comfy seat in First Class.
"Best get some rest going, Potter," Professor Snape said as he dug into his carry-on bag and pulled out a rather thick hardcover.
"Textbook, sir?" Harry asked, and the professor shook his head.
In turn, Harry took out the Advanced Potion Making book and began to read the doodles on the margins.
Professor Snape managed to hide his surprise at Potter getting a hold of his old Potions textbook for the third straight year, but supposed that if he had it for the fourth year and fifth, it wouldn't be much of a stretch for him to have his hands on the one he used to own for the sixth.
It could've been Slughorn, too. Yes, it must have been Slughorn.
Still, knowing that Harry wasn't the glory-seeking prat he previously thought he was… it gave Severus a little peace of mind.
The plane began to move, and he began to read.
Several hours later, Snape put down the book, and saw that Harry was looking a bit put out, thinking of some matter or another.
"I was wondering…" Harry thought aloud, "why do we have to take this flight instead of magical travel?"
"Chalk it up to your little dragon-slaying stunt," Snape answered, and turned back to his reading.
He was halfway through the next chapter when he could feel the anxiety from the young man.
"First time on a plane is supposed to come with some jitters, Potter," Snape drawled.
"It's not that, Professor," Harry admitted. "These past few days, I've been… dealing with distractions."
"Ah yes, the kind of distractions Pomona tells me about. Let me enumerate: Susan Bones, twice. Hannah Abbot, three times. Leanne Grossman, four times. Megan Jones, five times. You've been getting quite a reputation, Potter."
"Professor, the only unprofessional thing I've done is wrap them up in the blanket they came in and send them right back to Professor Sprout," Harry grumbled.
"And yet they keep trying. Why is that?"
"Because they want me back in Hufflepuff's good graces," Harry answered. "Or something to bind me to the House, I don't know. Whatever it is, whatever they have, I'm not interested."
"See, this is the part that has me worried. Your fellow housemates find a way to sneak into your quarters, wait for you in their birthday suit, and you haul them back to their Head of House. Are you…?"
Harry's face began to turn green at the implication, but he calmed himself down before turning back to Professor Snape.
"…That's not it, sir. That's not it at all."
"Then tell me, because Professor Sprout can't do anything at this point. I can, and I can at least tell those girls what is happening, so that they stop bothering you."
"Thank you for the gesture, sir," Harry said, and the potions master was a bit surprised by the gratitude in his voice. "Honestly… there was something my uncle told me, some time back. He had gotten a promotion. We celebrated. He brought out the wine."
"And then?" Snape asked; he didn't like where this was going, but he let Harry continue anyway.
"Well, we all drank to celebrate. Uncle Vernon had one or two more glasses than everyone else. He told me that if I was going to get married or find someone, I had to go for the impossible, so that if I settled, I wouldn't be disappointed."
"Go for the impossible…" Snape thought aloud. "Wait a minute…"
Severus Snape slowly sorted out what Harry Potter or Harold Graham had been through.
Normal student for two years, dealt with a death in the family his third year, had some dealing with Professor Pennyworth, and was made the champion… of… Dun Scaith…
A light bulb went on in the potion master's head, and when he finally put it all together, his shoulders began to shake in mirth.
He closed the book he wasn't reading and used it to cover his mouth to keep his chuckles from becoming too loud.
"Professor?" Harry asked, and when Snape turned to him, he was already halfway done composing himself.
"Potter," he said, his voice a lot lighter than before, "with that kind of ambition, you would have made a wonderful Slytherin."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Have you looked up the Witch's history?"
"I… have not, sir."
Snape chuckled.
"Look it up when you have time. Anyway, about what you're going through… I am the last one you should ask about these kinds of matters. Goodness knows, I was in much worse shape than you were at my age. Best find someone else who can give you advice on that front."
He shook his head.
"I thought you had quite the set of bollocks your first year, asking me that favor. Now, I'm sure you have the biggest set of brass bollocks out of anyone in Hogwarts… you'll understand once you read the stories about the Witch. Anyway, best catch some shuteye, there's still seven hours left in the flight."
The rest of the trip was uneventful, and upon their arrival and receiving their luggage, Professor Severus Snape and Harry Potter were making their way to the lobby, where they saw a man holding up a sign with their names, both written in letters and Japanese script.
"Good afternoon," Harry began as he approached the man with the sign. "Are you the one appointed as our personal security for this symposium?"
"That is right, Potter-san. I must say, your Japanese is quite good for a foreigner."
"Thank you, Mister…?"
"Ah, where are my manners. My name is Takamachi Shirou."
author's notes: There is an easy-to-spot Dark Souls reference in this chapter. Did you find it?
The VHS tape Dudley picked up was "Injuu Seisen", more known as "Twin Angels". Also, yes, I do know that the year where Harry's "horny teenager" phase goes into overdrive is Year SEGGS, I mean, Year Six; how apropos. The "muggle Drink" Draco was sipping is an Arnold Palmer.
We also finally get to have some crossing over, even if it is minor in the long run. Also at this point in time, the Delacours just moved to Mid-Childa. Speaking of which, Monsieur Delacour having the name "Sébastien" is a shout-out to [takes deep breath] CEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEB the DotA 2 player. He is also one of the few registered "muscle wizards" in the world, which is why he was able to [takes deep breath] ONEPUUUUUUUUUNCH both Montague senior and junior through the walls right before he tendered his resignation from the French magical government, in the greatest "take this job and shove it" moment ever.
As to those wondering why Dumbledore is the one teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, he's just substituting for Professor Snape, who has to take care of the ICP symposium event first. He will be formally introduced as the Defense professor at the Halloween feast.
Finally, the large book Snape was reading on the flight? "A Game of Thrones".