As Harry walked outside of the house, he spotted Professor McGonagall looking quite out of place as she stood sternly with her hands clasped behind her back. Yet she looked more relaxed than she had been in the house. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. Now, in fact, Harry could have sworn that her lips twitched in what was, for her, a smile.

Harry quickly averted his gaze, and went to pick up his trunk and broom. He wasn't sure how much McGonagall had heard of his row with the Dursleys, but now his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. The feeling of misuse and maltreatment had just escaped from him, and he left it all behind him in that house. Yet he wondered if he shouldn't have just held it in. Was it really worth it in the end? Then, however, a voice floated to him with such strength he felt dizzy…

" i> It is your ability to feel such emotions that sets you apart from Lord Voldemort…" /i>

Dumbledore. Dumbledore had told him that nearly two years ago.

"Feeling better, Harry?" McGonagall intruded, softening her voice with the use of his first name. He looked up to see her actually smiling now. More than he'd ever seen her smile, at least. He couldn't help but give a sheepish grin. "I should think you've quite terrified them."

"Yeah," he admitted with a shrug. "Sorry about that."

McGonagall raised a brow. "Are you now?" Harry searched her gaze, and couldn't help but grin.

"Not really," he admitted. Then he frowned as though just now realizing she had appeared unexpectedly at his house. "Professor, why…."

"I've come early," she explained unnecessarily. "There was something I needed to ask you." Harry's eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Though I think we shall talk as we walk along, if you don't mind," she sniffed, looking over Harry's shoulder. He turned, and was amused to see all of the Dursleys with their noses pressed against the glass, making sure of their departure. Upon being noticed, however, they scrambled away like roaches in sunlight.

"Of course," Harry said with a snort, walking briskly along with her. She waited until they had begun down the lane, and were far from ear-shot of the Dursleys to begin.

"You see, Hogwarts has found itself in a rather…difficult predicament, I'm sure you understand," she said, giving him a side-ways glance to catch him turning pale. He gave a short nod, while his throat tightened.

This all reminded him too much of last year, when he had walked along with Dumbledore. As he had walked with the old man, however, he had never considered the fact that he would soon be mourning his death The thought that Dumbledore could be defeated would have made him laugh. The old man's unwavering presence had instilled a certain belief that he was immortal…invincible.

"Yes, well," McGonagall said abruptly, pulling him through time and space. "I'm sure you understand that not only are we in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but I'm afraid Mr. Slughorn decided at the time of the attack that it was best to flee."

"Of course," Harry muttered, as the words slipped through his mind full of little meaning. What did he care? He wasn't going back to Hogwarts anyways. Then he thought of something and turned to her. "Wait…does that mean you're going to be Headmistress i and /i Transfiguration teacher?"

"I have little choice, Harry," she said, stopping. Harry stopped too, frowning.

"No choice?" he asked, confused. "Why not get somebody else?"

"Potter!" she said briskly, using his surname in her frustration. "The school was just attacked by Death-Eaters! People were killed and badly injured! Nobody wants to take the job. They're saying the entire school is cursed now, haven't you been reading the papers?"

"Yes," Harry said defiantly. She gave him a crestfallen look.

"Less than half of the students are returning," she said dejectedly, shaking her head.

"Then why re-open the school?" he asked savagely. "What's the point?"

"The point, Harry, is that Hogwarts is a school that is open to anybody willing to learn. Not only has Durmstrang shut down, but Beauxbaton would have a long time ago if it hadn't been for Hagrid. He persuaded Madame Maxine, you see," she explained after seeing his puzzled expression. "There i is /i a point, Harry. Even if you don't see it yet," she said softly, beginning to walk again. Harry ran to catch up after a second's reminiscence.

"Alright, fine. There's a point. So why are you telling me this? I'm not coming back. I've explained this to you. There are things more important than going to school…"

"There is NOTHING more important than keeping Hogwarts alive!" she said vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulders. Harry's eyes took in a sight he thought never to see. This was definitely turning out to be the most bizarre day in his life. There was such pain in McGonagall's eyes, he was surprised there weren't tears in them. Her long-held composure seemed to crumble in those few seconds that they stared at each other. "It's all that we have left of him…."

Pain erupted in the pit of Harry's stomach slowly at first, until finally it clawed its way up to his throat, lodging there for what seemed like hours. He moved out of Professor McGonagall's shaky grasp and ran a troubled hand over his scar.

"I have to destroy Lord Voldemort. I can't come to school," he said regretfully. "Look, I would really love to. Don't you think I'd rather do homework than go out and most-likely get myself killed?"

McGonagall shook her head twitchily. "I'm not asking you to come and do homework. I'm asking you to teach."

Silence.

"What!" he gasped. He hadn't expected this.

"I'm asking you to teach Defense Again the Dark Arts, Harry."

"No!" he said, stepping back even further. "Professor! I'm only seventeen! It's most-likely against the law!"

"It's not. You're of age," she corrected sternly. "You've taught students before! Don't pretend you didn't. And did a good job, by the look of everybody's O.W.L.'s! I dare say you're the only reason most of them passed."

"I can't, Professor…"

"I know you have things to deal with. But teaching two or three classes a day won't be too bad. And when there is a time when you must leave, so be it. But I have to have something to tell the Ministry. i> Something /i> !" she hissed.

"If I need to leave in the middle of the year…" he said uncertainly.

"You may do so," she interrupted.

"What about Potions? Who will teach that?"

"It has been taken care of," she said strictly, and offered no further answer. "If you don't accept, the Ministry will shut Hogwarts down, Potter."

"No pressure, eh?" Harry asked wryly. McGonagall did not seem to find the comment amusing, and instead stared pointedly at him, her eyes narrowed slightly. Harry wasn't quite sure what to do. Maybe he could find some answers at Hogwarts. He could look in the restricted section of the library. Maybe he could ask some of the ghosts for advice…. The thing that stood out most prominently, however, was the fact that he would be able to be with his friends. "Would I need to take classes?"

"That is up to you, Potter," she said, pursing her lips. "But, there are the N.E.W.T.'s to consider."

"Yeah, if I live that long," Harry muttered under his breath. Still McGonagall didn't answer, but awaited a response to her question. "Fine," Harry finally said.

"Good," McGonagall, and though her face remained the same, her posture seemed to slacken slightly. "Please take my arm, and I'll guide you to the Burrow." Harry stepped towards her, and took her bony arm. In seconds he felt the uncomfortable sensation of Apparating, though he seemed to have grown accustomed to it, as it wasn't as bad as the last time. The next thing Harry knew, he was standing outside a huge, slightly slanting house. "When I write out the book lists, I'll need to know your book preference. For teaching your class," she added at his confused expression.

"Erm…" Harry thought for a second. What book would be good for teaching Defense? A book he had noticed in the Room of Requirement came to mind suddenly. He had used it for reference a few times while teaching the DA. "A Simple Guide to Complex Spells, by Waldo Wears. He doesn't just go into spells, he helps with the mindset you need for a fight. A defensive fight, that is," Harry amended. McGonagall nodded.

"A good choice," she said approvingly.

"Yeah. Are you coming?" Harry asked, turning back to the Burrow and feeling as if two anvils had been placed upon each of his shoulders. McGonagall shook her head.

"No," she said. "I've got some business to attend to. Before we part, however, I have yet another question."

Harry's face toughened, wondering what horrible things he'd be asked to do next. Not only did he have to find four Horcruxes, defeat Lord Voldemort, and live through it all, but now he had to be a teacher? Resigned for the worst, he braced himself.

"I wasn't sure if you had enough on your plate already, but I thought I'd give you the option…. Would you like to be Head Boy?" she asked, looking rather amused at his expression.

"Er…" he murmured, taken off guard. "No…thanks."

She nodded briskly. "I thought as much. Well, you've just made Ernie MacMillan a happy young man, I'm certain," she said with a small shake of her head. "I'm assuming you'll want me to pick a new Quidditch Captain as well?"

"Yeah…yeah definitely," he said, frowning slightly. Quidditch. He had completely forgotten about it. That was one thing he would definitely miss.

"I'm afraid that if your presence at the school will not be determinable, I can't allow you on the team," she said, reading his face.

"I understand," he said solemnly, then looked up as a hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked up surprised. McGonagall was looking at him with a harsh pride he saw only on rare occasions.

"Goodbye, Harry," she said briskly, giving him an approving nod. "And good luck." With that, she vanished without a trace, and Harry was left to stare at the tree line. He was just about to turn around when familiar voices met his eager ears.

"Alright, they're done talking Hermione!" came Ron's, his best friend's, voice. "Now can we go and say hi?"

"There is no need to take that tone! I'm sure they wanted their privacy!" said Hermione, as Harry turned around.

"Now, now, children," Ginny said, coming last out of the house and looking withdrawn. The next thing Harry saw was a large amount of bushy brown hair as Hermione threw her arms around him in a crushing hug.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh, hugging her back. "How long have you been here?"

"Actually…I've not been home yet," she said with a blush, and an odd look at Ron. "My parents understand. What with a war going on and all…." But before Harry could inquire further, or think on the odd look she had shared with Ron, her face was replaced by Ron's, who slapped him on the back.

It seemed his height had stayed mercifully the same, and his pale, freckly face was smiling, though it was a probing smile, as though gouging his feelings. Harry gave his best smile, trying to reassure them all.

"How've you been, mate?" Ron asked, and then suddenly seemed to regret this question, knowing that the answer was probably troubling. "I mean, well did you have a good…" he broke off, looking around for inspiration. "Look! There's Ginny!" he said, pointing at Ginny in an attempt to take the attention from himself. Harry needed no pointing, or advice to look at Ginny. He stared at her with an intensity that made his mouth dry. Uncertainty wavered in the air like a thick, suffocating fabric.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny said warmly, a strained smile on her face. It was a brave attempt at normality, but a feeble one, all the same. Harry gave a nod, his lungs having decided not to work.

"So…Harry…" Hermione said, nudging Ron slightly. She was obviously trying to think of some distracting conversation. Ron became very unhelpful, however, when he looked around at everybody and then whispered, "Oh…."

"How's your mum and dad?" Harry finally asked, looking between Ginny and Ron.

"Oh, you know! The usual," Ron said. "Well…actually mum's been a little out of sorts."

"Why's that?" Harry asked, frowning. Both Ron and Ginny shifted uncomfortably, with Hermione looking between them anxiously.

"Well, after Dumbledore…" Ginny began. She cleared her throat. "Well, Percy decided that that proved everything. He said all Dumbledore's ideas and stuff is the reason he's…well…not with us anymore," she whispered.

"WHAT?" Harry roared in outrage. Percy Weasley, Ginny and Ron's elder brother, had always been a bit of a prat. He was one of those that believed whatever the Daily Prophet printed about himself and Dumbledore. Now that the Daily Prophet was on Harry's side, he figured so would Percy.

"I know," Ron said murderously. "But you saw him last year, when he came around with the Minister of Magic! He wanted nothing to do with us!"

"I'll never understand him," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Oh, but Harry! I've got the most wonderful news!"

"Yeah?" Harry said, quite in need of some good news.

"Do you know, Stan Shunpike?" she asked, smiling. Harry nodded for her to continue. "They've let him go!"

"Are you serious?" Harry said, unable to stop himself from stealing a glance at Ginny's expression. She was looking hopefully at him, hoping this might cheer him up. For her sake, he gave a huge smile.

"Apparently they couldn't find i> anything /i> else to suggest he was a Death Eater," Ron said with a snort.

"That's great, really great," Harry muttered, not really following the conversation, all of his attention focused on i not /i looking at Ginny. A silence followed this. Finally Ron gave a sigh.

"So, what did old McGonagall have to say?" he asked uncertainly, wondering whether he was being too nosy.

"Is Hogwarts closing?" Ginny asked hurriedly. Harry finally met her gaze, and shook his head.

"No, it's going to stay open," he said sluggishly. Then gave a dry laugh, "Oh, and you might want to start calling me Professor Potter," he said amusedly. The others exchanged glances, not getting the joke. "I'm going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a collective silence, and then everybody broke into excited chatter.

"Harry, that's wonderful!" squealed Hermione.

"It's just going to be like the DA!" Ginny said enthusiastically.

"Way to go!" gushed Ron, with yet another slap on the back. Harry shook his head.

"I'm not going to be able to teach some of the time, though. I'll be looking for Horcruxes," he said, whispering the last bit. "Hey, did you guys get the letters I sent you?"

"What letters?" Ron asked. Then Harry remembered something, and slapped a hand to his forehead. The letter! He had never sent it! It must be still sitting on his desk at Number 4. He gave a groan. What would Aunt Petunia do if she found it? Most likely throw it in the garbage without a glance, he hoped. He felt relieved at this thought, and decided to push it out of his mind as he began to walk up the steep hill towards the Burrow with his three best friends in tow.