SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the whole concept of Harry Potter. They belong to the talented Ms Rowling. Thank you to everybody who reviewed and a big thank you to my beta reader. Your efforts are greatly appreciated. J
NB: Bear with me, this is not only going to be a general romance story but there will be action coming up fairly shortly.
I was asked if I could estimate how long this story will be. I'm not really sure, but I think between 10 and 15 chapters. I really haven't thought that far ahead yet.
A universal question: I have referred to Harry's 'agoraphobia'. I'm referring to his fear of feeling suffocated in social situations, and the feeling of being hemmed in when he's surrounded by lots of people. Have I used the wrong term, and if I have, can anyone tell me the correct term to use?
CHAPTER 5
A plaque? How bizarre. It was a nice gesture I guess, but it's not really me is it? At least they didn't throw a bloody parade for me. Can't do that if I'm not there, right? It was only then that he saw engraved in scratchy letters, as though someone had taken a pair of scissors to the plaque "Our greatest hero, and our greatest friend. We miss you Harry- Love, Ron & Hermione." Oh my gosh. I miss you too guys, he thought.
He almost reached out to touch those letters, but stopped himself when he remembered he was probably being watched. Harry fought back the tears that were stinging the back of his eyes and his throat and returned to his seat.
Hermione and Ron had been watching him the whole time.
"You were his friends?" Harry asked them, more to end the tense silence that had arisen than for any other reason.
"Don't speak about him in the past tense. We are his friends. We're his best friends. Period." Answered Ron aggressively.
"Don't leap down his throat, Ron. He didn't mean anything by it." Hermione defended. "You would never have met Harry, would you?" she asked Jason gently.
"No, I'm not from around here. I've heard of him though, but then again who hasn't, right?"
"He hated that you know." Hermione said softly.
"Hated what?"
"The whole 'everybody knows who he is' thing. He hated all the attention. He and Ron had a big fight about it in their fourth year here. Harry always told me that no one ever really looked past his scar and he wished they'd just stop gawping at his forehead."
Harry's heart just danced in his chest. He was feeling very greedy all of a sudden to feel the closeness that they'd once had. He knew he'd never have that again so he just settled for asking, "What was he like?"
Ron and Hermione must have been glad to have someone to talk about Harry because Ron replied without hesitation. "Genuine. We met on the first day of school on the train. I was dirt poor. There were nine of us in the family and dad wasn't very well paid then. I was always being teased because I was very poor, I was gangly with red hair and freckles and seemed to grow right out of proportion – you know, long legs and arms everywhere. And I was the sixth in a line of seven children. Harry didn't care at all. He made friends with me right then. He could look at a person and see right through everything else right into who they were. Draco Malfoy, this good looking, pompous little rich kid who everybody wanted to know, offered to be friends with him later that same day and he turned him down cold because Malfoy said he didn't like me. The look on Malfoy's face was classic."
"Ron, he's your brother-in-law, so leave him alone," scolded Hermione.
"Yeah, he married my sister. Turns out there was some good in him after all. Go figure."
"Ron!"
"And Jason, he had this way with a broom. Man, he had talent! He was an ace when it came to quidditch. He was the youngest seeker in a century to make one of the house teams here. He got his skill from his Dad."
"And he was nice Jason, really, really nice. He had this enormous power, and he was special and famous and everything that goes with it, but he managed to stay really nice. He didn't care for it at all. All he wanted was to be 'normal'. But he was pretty headstrong and stubborn when he wanted to be," laughed Hermione. "If he wanted to do something, there was nothing you could do to stop him. He'd just take his invisibility cloak and sneak off and do what he wanted to do before you could do anything about it."
Harry felt warm listening to his friends talk about him. He'd missed them, but he'd made up his mind to leave and he did. I really am as stubborn as she says I am, he thought.
"Ron's right too, he was amazing on a broom. Naturally gifted. The summer before we started our fourth year here we went to see the Quidditch World Cup. One of the players did this dangerous thing on his broom. He'd dive straight down, like he was trying to take a nose dive into the dirt, and at the last minute he'd pull up. One of the seekers used it, and it was a great technique for trying to catch the snitch. Harry was a seeker so naturally he had to try the move out straight away and he did it perfectly the first time he tried it. I mean, the other seeker in that game tried to do it and he hurt himself because he didn't pull up in time. It was some sort of 'wonky faint' thing." Hermione gushed.
"Wronski feint," choked out Ron between gritted teeth. He seemed to be gnashing his teeth together as he continued. "Hermione, I love you and all, but you're killing me. You really are."
"Whatever, Ron. It's not really important is it?"
"But – it's – oh never mind." He gave up. He knew he'd never actually win the argument with Hermione.
"What happened to him?" asked Harry when they were all sitting in silence again.
Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then looked back at him. "We don't know. After the final battle, we looked everywhere for him. Albus said he'd been taken to the hospital but when we went to find him there, he'd gone." Hermione frowned. "He didn't even let us know he was leaving and we're his best friends. He and "you know who" had a history and so apparently, he was the only one who could have saved us from him. Did you know that he was taken away when he was 15 so he could be trained for the war? I don't know anything about what he did after he was taken for training. Everybody knew we were his best friends, so we were considered a pretty obvious target for kidnapping and extortion. Most of what Harry did - you know, whether he was training or whether he was actually fighting - was kept secret, even from us so that we couldn't give away any information if we were caught and tortured. People think he died from his injuries. We don't think so, and neither does Albus. Albus didn't want everyone to panic so he let the Ministry go ahead with the parade they planned without Harry. We all think he just disappeared. He must have had a very good reason – and he must have been very clever because even Albus can't find him, and he looked for years." Hermione stopped and just stared at the table.
Oh my gosh, they threw a parade. Terrific, Harry mentally noted without humour.
"He'd better have had a bloody good reason because if he didn't, and I find him, I'm going to give him the biggest right hook he's ever felt. Hermione and I searched for him for years as well. We didn't find a single clue." Ron silenced himself at that point too.
Hmm… Ron, my reason was a damn good one. Think about it, there was a reason you weren't allowed to know what I was doing. It was just that bad. I wasn't allowed to see you guys, and I was doing field work while I was still officially being trained. If you were me Ron, what would you have done?
Harry, Ron and Hermione turned to stare at the plaque from their seats, their conversation about Harry seemingly brought to an end.
"That plaque is so small, it doesn't really seem enough does it? I mean, he saved us all, and we have a tiny plaque in a big hall to remind us of that," said a somber Hermione.
It's more than enough, thought Harry privately. Why doesn't anybody get it? I don't want a bloody plaque – or a parade. I don't even want to be remembered. If I did I wouldn't have left now would I? Why should I get a plaque and a parade when so many people died fighting for the same thing I was fighting for. They died doing the same thing I was doing. They gave me a plaque because I was lucky – or unlucky – enough to live through it all. It just isn't right.
"What would you have done?" Harry inquired politely of Hermione.
"Sorry?"
"Albus put up a plaque, and the Ministry threw a parade. What would you have done for Harry?"
"I don't know. A bigger plaque at least, something nicer looking. That's just a dinky bit of metal. It doesn't even shine like it should. I'd probably put a big portrait of him in here as well, with a nice little tribute underneath. And I'd definitely have something done on the quidditch pitch because he loved it there," answered Ron after having thought about it a little.
"That's a big gesture. You knew him best I suppose. But, can I ask, if you were Harry and you did what he did, what would you want him to do for you?" asked Harry. I'm going to get this through to them if it's the last thing that I do, Harry thought grimly.
"Um, well, I guess as long as Harry and Hermione remembered me I wouldn't actually care what they did or even if they didn't do anything at all," answered Ron. "Oh."
After a moment of silence, Hermione spoke up. "That was a very shrewd question Jason. No one has ever asked us that before." She looked at him, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Hermione was clever. Harry had forgotten just how clever she really was. I knew she was quick, but I don't remember her being this quick. Harry took a deep breath and launched into the only explanation he could come up with on short notice.
"Someone very close to me passed away just recently. I arranged his funeral with his parents. They're very wealthy and he was their only child. They wanted to erect a big monument for him just behind his headstone but I convinced them not to. Friends know things about their friends that that person's parents wouldn't even know. I knew that he didn't want that. He was very private. He didn't like people fussing over him. So it seemed only sensible that he wouldn't want that in death either. I just knew that he would appreciate a small gesture of respect more than a large and ostentatious display, regardless of the intentions behind it." That's right, isn't it Greg? Harry could feel the sting of unshed tears in his eyes so he silenced himself at this point. Hermione reached out to touch his arm and he looked up at her in surprise.
"I'm sorry, Jason. I can see your point." Hermione looked back at Ron who looked as though he were deep in thought.
It was at this point that Albus arrived and stopped to speak quietly with Harry.
"Jason, how do you find your seat?"
Harry remembered that he had requested an end seat. He didn't like to feel hemmed in when he was around people, and he liked having a convenient escape route around him. "Thank you Albus, I don't mean to be inconvenient."
"Nonsense, no one was inconvenienced by your request. If there is ever a situation where you feel you must leave, please feel free to do so. You needn't draw attention to yourself first, I shall know why you have left. In any case, I shall leave you to enjoy the conversation of Professors Weasley."
Harry noticed Ron and Hermione staring at him, so before they could say anything he commented. "Professors Weasley, huh? How do you know who the students are talking about when they mention 'Professor Weasley' in the hallways?" Harry asked.
"That's easy Jason. If they're cursing Professor Weasley, they're talking about Hermione. If they're saying really nice things about Professor Weasley, they're talking about me," replied Ron, grinning. Hermione glared at him. Oh man, Ron. You can still get yourself into trouble just fine. You don't need me to help at all, Harry chuckled to himself.
"Really?" asked Harry. Hermione stepped into the conversation at this point.
"Ron, is exaggerating– " Ron seemed to be shaking his head and making wide exaggerated gestures with his arms behind Hermione's back to indicate that he wasn't joking. He stopped and tried to look as though his attention had been momentarily distracted by something on one of the student House tables when Hermione turned around.
"Anyway, as I was saying," said Hermione as she turned around quickly again to make sure she could carry on without being interrupted, "the only reason people may prefer Ron as a professor to me is because Muggle Studies is a more laid back subject than Arithmancy and I push my students hard to make sure they do as well as they can. I mean, Arithmancy is - "
"- the toughest subject there is. Yeah, yeah. Actually, they like me more because I'm better looking than Hermione is." Ron stated matter of factly. He regretted it a second later when Hermione punched him quite fiercely. "Idiot" she muttered.
Harry turned his attention away from the bickering pair next to him. He had watched Hermione and Ron fight with one another since he was eleven years old and this continuity of old habits was comforting. He noticed that Albus wandered the length of the staff table chatting quietly randomly with some of the professors before claiming his seat and allowing the older students into the hall to settle themselves before the first years arrived to be sorted into their Houses. Once that was done, Harry was introduced to the school as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and dinner was served. It was, on the whole, a very sedate evening, and Harry couldn't complain about anything aside from the fact that Professor Snape let out a very poorly disguised snort of derision when "Professor Green" was introduced to the students, and he kept sending him some very hostile glares throughout dinner.
A dark robed figure entered a darkened room, answering his Master's summons. He made sure to stay at the very back of the room, as he had been instructed. It was more than his life was worth to approach the screen which sectioned off one part of the room from view.
"My Lord, we have many people working on it already. Surely there is no need for more."
Behind the screen, an unidentifiable form stirred. "Do not question me." It hissed. "I want more people involved in the task. I wish to accelerate our plans."
"I understand, my Lord." The robed figure replied meekly.
"But we must move cautiously. We cannot afford to be discovered prematurely."
"Of course, my Lord."
"You are dismissed."
"Thank you, my Lord." The robed shape stood up and executed a low bow before leaving the room.
Harry was feeling somewhat relaxed this evening. In his own bedroom, as he got ready for bed and stripped down to his boxers, he reflected on how well the evening had gone. He attributed his mood to his conversation with Ron and Hermione. Talking to them had brought to the surface feelings for them that he thought he had forgotten or long since buried. He climbed into bed and settled against the pillows. By force of habit, he grabbed his sleeping pills and the glass of water that were sitting on his left bedside table. He looked at the tablets in his hand. He had told himself that once he began his life at Hogwarts he would try to rely less on his sleeping tablets. He had to admit that he was scared. He had enjoyed a fortnight of dreamless, drug induced sleep and he knew that without them he'd be having nightmares and haunted dreams every night. However the sleeping tablets, when used constantly, left him feeling generally lethargic and sluggish. As a chemist, he knew the dangers of relying on medication, so he resolved to go without them tonight and see what happened. I've got to start somewhere, he thought to himself. So he simply drank the water and settled back against the pillows to sleep.
Greg handed Harry a trowel. "And what am I supposed to do with this?" asked Harry innocently.
"I'd say that was pretty obvious. You're going to stop watching me work in the garden, and you're going to help," answered Greg in a no-nonsense tone.
"I'd say you're handling those weeds pretty well. There's no mistaking who's boss there." Harry grinned. Before he knew what was happening, Greg was throwing clumps of weeds and dirt at him and Harry was struggling to avoid getting too much dirt in his mouth. Laughing, he made his way over to Greg and pulled him into a tight hug so that he couldn't be assaulted with the vegetation any longer.
Greg struggled against Harry's strong grip. "Hey Jason, I can't breathe. Let up, I think you're breaking my ribs!" gasped Greg. "If you hurt the cook, you don't eat. And what's more - " Harry cut Greg off with a long, deep kiss. He didn't let up until Greg's knees weakened and he was having to hold him up. He pulled back and looked into Greg's eyes, asking a silent question. Greg looked right back and answered that question - "On the other hand, the garden can wait, I mean, it looks pretty good overall doesn't it?" With that, he grabbed Harry's hand and started to drag him back to the flat.
All of a sudden a chill filled the air and he felt cold right down to his bones. "Jason?"
Harry's instincts tuned into battle mode. His defenses were on high and his senses were tuned into his surroundings trying to determine what was going on. "Greg, stay behind me."
"Uh-huh." Greg replied, confused and nodding dumbly.
Harry moved to close the door, only to see Voldemort, the Dark wizard himself, slowly enter the room.
"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead! Greg, run. Just get out of here." Harry cried.
"Mr. Potter, I wouldn't do that if I were you. You see, my faithful have you surrounded. You can't escape Mr. Potter, and neither can your friend."
"Mr. Potter?" repeated Greg, who was still frozen to his spot behind Harry.
"Um…."
"Avada Kedavra!" cried Voldemort. Harry saw a blinding flash of green light and heard Greg cry out. He was dead before he hit the ground.
"No! Greg! Nooooooooo! You bastard! I already killed you! Oh, Greg! NOOOOOOOOOO!"
Harry shook himself awake. He found himself on the floor tangled up in his bed clothes, shivering and drenched in sweat. Harry sat and tried to catch his breath. He exhaled shakily and ran his hands through his hair. He shuffled himself back to lean back against his bedside chest of drawers. He held his head in his hands and let the tears pour down his face. His body was racked with sobs. It was so real. It was all so real. He remembered that incident with Greg in the garden so well. Harry had been in his flat for about eight months. He hadn't exactly neglected his garden, but he hadn't been diligent in his attendance to it either. He had had enough of gardening when he was with the Dursleys and while he appreciated having a pleasant garden, he didn't spend every weekend weeding his flowerbeds.
Greg had moved in and immediately taken charge of that. He had grown up with beautiful gardens around him and he wanted their garden to be spectacular. He could never convince Harry to be as enthusiastic about it as he was though.
But, on that particular day, Voldemort had most definitely not appeared in the garden. His death eaters had not surrounded them and he had not killed Greg. He was expecting to be haunted by Greg during his sleep, but he had not expected to dream about Voldemort as well. He often had nightmares about Voldemort – he was surprised he wasn't a complete basket case right now, with all the things he'd seen - but Voldemort and Greg, in one dream? Bloody hell, he thought. He picked himself up off the floor and looked at the clock. It was only 4:00am. He groaned and reached for the Panadeine. He normally experienced headaches when he woke up from a nightmare, and today he had a shocker of a headache which he didn't think would disappear by the time he had to teach his first class.
Sighing, he picked up his bedsheets and tossed them haphazardly back onto the bed. He half stumbled, half climbed back into the bed and leaned to settle back into the pillows. He missed Greg quite painfully now. Greg would be the one to hand him his headache medicine when he had one of his nightmares. Then he would hold Harry until he fell asleep again. Harry wrapped his arms around himself and tried to fall asleep. Harry didn't have a class to teach until 11:00, so as the codeine started to kick into his system, he concentrated his magic and let the clock know that he would appreciate being woken up at 10:00am, which would give him enough time to rest before having to get ready for his first class.
They hastened to answer their Master's summons. No one dared to keep him waiting. They arrived and entered the dark room, dropping to their knees and keeping their gaze fixed on the ground before them, and not at the screen separating them from their Lord.
"My Lord, all is going as planned." One of the robed men volunteered.
The screen moved as the form shifted behind it. "This pleases me. How much more needs to be done?"
"We are nearly finished, my Lord." Another form answered, hesitantly.
"And our short term goal?"
There was a moment's silence before one of the summoned tactfully answered, "Ah, an opportunity has not yet arisen, my Lord."
The unseen form behind the screen hissed and spoke with obvious impatience, "If an opportunity has not arisen, create one." The room seemed to reverberate with the coldness in their master's voice.
"Of course, my Lord." each of the robed figures murmured as they backed out of the room.
Harry dressed carefully for his first day of teaching. He didn't want to appear too relaxed, but he didn't want to appear overly rigid either, like a certain potions master, he snickered. He couldn't feel comfortable in anything but muggle clothing so he pulled on one of Greg's leather trousers (a little long, but bunched attractively around the top of his shoes) into which he tucked a deep green dress shirt (the sleeves of which had to be rolled up a couple of times). He wore Greg's favourite leather boots under the trousers. Right Potter, nothing to worry about, they're only kids. This is nothing. Remember, you killed Voldemort. "Yeah, but I can't do to the kids what I did to Voldemort," he complained to himself. He grabbed his professor's robes off the couch and put them on as he headed to his classroom. The robes were black but lightweight. They clasped at the throat but hung open down the front so that they billowed out around him as he walked and didn't hide what he was wearing. He'd almost left his room when he remembered that he had to put his contact lenses in.
"Bugger! Bloody hindering awkward pain in the bloody neck!" He kept his concealment spells on him when he was at Hogwarts. He planned to keep them on until he left here and returned to London. His contacts were a different story. They were obviously too uncomfortable to keep in, so he took them out when he finished classes for the day and wore his glasses around his rooms in the evenings. Nobody visited him in the evenings so he didn't have to worry about people stumbling upon his deep green bespectacled eyes.
He hurried to the bathroom and put one of the lenses on his finger. "I hate this," he muttered to himself. It wasn't as though he was squeamish about the idea of seeing somebody's eyeball, he had no objections to eyeballs in general, after all, he'd lived through a war. He'd seen more than just eyeballs in his time. But he couldn't stand the thought of touching a naked eyeball. He had inwardly squirmed every time Moody had removed his eye. Ick! Once he had them in, he left his rooms.
Since he had missed breakfast that morning, he stopped off at the staff room to have a coffee and read the newspaper before his first class started. He was so engrossed in what he was reading that he would have been late for his first class had he not happened to glance up at the clock to find that he had only ten minutes to get to his class. "Well, I'm the teacher. Class won't start without me so it doesn't really matter if I'm late, does it?" Harry reassured himself.
"Actually, if you're too late Jason, you might find that your students will assume you're not going to be there and leave. You didn't have a class this morning did you? Surely you don't need to be looking for the caffeine yet, do you?" observed Minerva from the doorway.
Harry was mortified. You're still talking to yourself?! One day someone's going to lock you up, and I'm not sure they'd be wrong for doing it! Harry was silently cursing himself and didn't notice that Minerva had silently navigated her way to the coffee pot "I, on the other hand, need the coffee pot. In fact, I think I deserve to claim this one for the next hour. One of my overzealous sixth years managed to accidentally activate his entire pack of "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes" in my classroom," said Minerva in tired tones.
"They're meant to be funny aren't they?" Harry politely inquired.
"Only if you're a student," shuddered Minerva, adding more sugar to her coffee.
Harry shrugged and left the common room, now running five minutes late for his class.
On the way to his classroom, two young third year Hufflepuff girls accidentally slammed bodily into him as they ran around the corner. They were late for their class too. Harry didn't seem to be too affected. He picked himself up off the ground and leaned down to help the young girls up.
"I'm sorry sir, we shouldn't have been running in the hallway, we were just – whoa..." the girl who was speaking stopped and stared at Harry, unable to continue.
"We shouldn't have been running in the corridors sir." The other girl finished for her friend. With a weak smile at Harry she pulled her friend, who was still staring at Harry, down the corridor.
"Whoa, did you see him? He's cool! He smells nice and he wears leather - and I ran into him so I can tell you he's all muscle under there. He's so cute! He looks pretty young too. I wonder how old he is."
"Put your tongue back in Meryl, we're already late."
Harry laughed inwardly. Greg would get a real laugh out of this. You'd have competition Greg, there are a couple of teenage witches who think your gay partner is cute! How's that for ironic?
Harry stopped. He had an idea for how he was going to teach his class. He returned briefly to his rooms, and then ducked briefly outside the castle before heading back to his classroom.
Harry rushed passed Professor Snape in the corridor as he hurried to his classroom trying to juggle items he had gathered in his arms.
"Professor." Harry acknowledged with a polite nod of the head as he passed Professor Snape.
"Er, Professor Green, don't you have a class to teach?"
Harry stopped and turned back to Professor Snape. "Yes, Professor, I do. I'm on my way there now actually."
"With those?" Professor Snape asked, pointing to the various items Harry was carrying.
"Yes."
"I was under the impression that you were supposed to be teaching the students Defence Against the Dark Arts. It rather looks like you're going to show them how to make a salad, or even plant a garden." Professor Snape commented snidely. Harry rolled his eyes. Sarcastic as ever.
Harry didn't have time to play right now so he settled for just brushing the Professor off. "I will teach my class the way I choose to Professor. Good day." And with that Harry whirled around and continued on his way to his classroom. He arrived at his classroom ten minutes late for the class. He moved to the front of the classroom and arranged the items in a line across the front of his desk. He turned around to face his class. He was teaching fourth year Hufflepuffs this time.
"Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. I'm Professor Green." Harry stepped away from the front of the desk and starting pacing around the room. "You're probably wondering why there is a banana, a peach, a stick, a rock, a flower and a shoe on the desk. They're going to be very important for our lesson today."
Harry looked at his class and was rewarded with creased eyebrows and looks of absolute confusion.
"Er, this fellow's nutters." One of the young boys whispered to his friend.
"Actually, I'm not." Harry laughed good-naturedly. Ha! His subconscious objected. Didn't Minerva just catch me talking to myself in the staffroom? The young student was stunned and embarrassed that he'd been overheard. He mumbled an apology to Harry, which Harry waved off.
"I know it looks a little weird, but there is a point to all of this. First of all though, since I'm new to the school, I want to know what you've studied so far." Harry requested of his class. He engaged them all in discussion and was disappointed to find that he didn't consider that they had actually learned anything of any significance. They had only learned about a few different kind of rare and potentially dangerous animal, and even then, they hadn't even learned about dementors or boggarts.
I know the war's over, but surely Albus can't have become so complacent that he would permit Defence Against the Dark Arts to be taught by someone who obviously didn't know the subject, reasoned Harry. Then again, maybe he was still having trouble finding someone to fill the position. At least that would explain why the last professor taught these kids absolutely nothing.
"O.k. I know what level you're at now," Yep, they might be able to best my bedroom slippers in a fight…maybe, "so, let's concentrate on what I've got on my desk. As I said, there is a reason that those particular items are at the front of the room. I've only been here a short time but even I can see that there is a certain amount of disdain between certain Houses at this school." Some of the students shifted a little uncomfortably in their seats at this.
"One of the reasons you're all separated into Houses is to promote competition and friendly rivalry. Friendly rivalry."
"But sir, the Slytherins single us out all the time," one of the students ventured.
"I'm not saying that that's acceptable either. I won't tolerate this sort of unreasoning House prejudice from anyone. Right, on to more important things. Who can point out the similarities between the items on my desk?" Harry asked, rubbing his hands together.
A sea of hands shot up. "What can you tell me?" Harry asked a young girl.
"Sir, two of them are similar because they're fruit and two are similar because they belong in the garden. The shoe is the odd one out."
"Very good, and your name is?"
"Anna Louise, sir."
"Thank you Miss Louise. You are right, but what if I were to tell you that two of the items are similar because you can wear them. How would you group them then? Someone else please?"
The students thought about this for a little while before one young boy raised his hand. "Sir, I'm Lewis Black. You can wear a shoe and sometimes people wear flowers. Stupid girly habit if you ask me, sir."
Harry laughed. "Yes, you're right. And I agree, I'd never wear a flower if you paid me."
"Sir, the peach and the flower are similar because they're about the same colour."
During Harry's study of medicine, he took a Psychology class and this was the very first lesson they had ever had. When he saw the items his Professor had brought in, he thought he was a right nutter as well. But the lesson was a useful one. He was pleased with the way the lesson was going. After about ten more minutes, during which the students were amusing themselves more and more with their efforts:
"Sir, the banana and the shoe are similar because my sister often throws both at me when I annoy her." I'd like to throw a shoe at Snape! Harry thought menacingly.
Harry called for silence. "O.k. that was great. You all got the hang of that really well. Now seriously, what have you learned from that. Did you learn anything at all?"
"That Brian's sister's weapon of choice is a shoe!" yelled out one student. It'll be my weapon of choice if I run into Snape again on the way out of here. On second thought, that seems like a waste of a perfectly good shoe to me. The shoe hasn't done anything to deserve that, really…
"Aside, from that. I want you to think about what you were trying to do."
"Sir, I'm Eloise Hancock. Things aren't always what they seem on the outside, are they?"
"Excellent Miss Hancock. Five points to Hufflepuff. Anyone else?"
"Sir, that you can see all sorts of things if you look hard enough?"
"Another five points to Hufflepuff. Very good. You caught onto that pretty quickly. Now how can we apply that to the rivalry between the Houses?"
"Sir, that we should look for more than what we can just see about people?"
"Excellent. Ten points to Hufflepuff." Harry was willing to be generous with House points if it was going to get his lesson across.
"Sir, that even though we've been separated into different Houses and may look different at first, that if we look a bit harder, we might find similarities between ourselves and the people in other Houses?"
"Yes, twenty points to Hufflepuff. That was the whole point of the lesson. You're all still a little too young to remember much about the war." Harry sat on the edge of his desk, facing his class, his face very serious. "You-know-who was a very dark wizard."
Harry stopped because most of the students gasped. Good grief, don't tell me people are still doing that. It's a good thing I didn't use his actual name. But then if I did use his name, someone would probably guess who I really am, since Harry Potter was one of only a few people who ever called Voldemort by name thought Harry. "It's o.k. We can talk about him. He's gone. He's not going to just pop up in this classroom because we referred to him. Anyway, he tried to make everybody believe that the only type of wizard or witch worth being was a pureblooded wizard or witch." He paused and looked very sternly at his students. "If I hear anyone say that he was right, I will deduct 100 points from their House and give them detention every evening with me." Harry told his students in a soft, cold voice. The effect was not lost on them. Several of them gulped but a few nodded their heads thoughtfully. Harry debated with himself as to whether or not he should reveal the next bit of information. He decided it wouldn't hurt anything so he did. "Did you know he was only a halfblooded wizard himself?"
"You're kidding!"
"Not at all. I'm perfectly serious. He really was. Now, he was a very powerful wizard. Very powerful. But half the reason he was so powerful was because so many people were willing to follow him. Does anybody want to guess how he convinced so many people to follow him?"
"Did he promise them money?" asked one young girl.
"Well, sometimes he did. But most of them didn't really need it. Anyone else?"
"Did he threaten them?"
"Sometimes. But most of the people who worked for him wanted to work for him. You see, what he did wasn't very clever, or even very subtle. Most, if not all, of the people who worked for him were pureblooded wizards and witches themselves, who thought that this made them superior to halfbloods and muggleborns. He played on that. He patronised them and convinced them that if they joined with him they would take their place as the 'leaders of the wizarding community' - behind him of course - and that half bloods, muggleborns and anyone who opposed them would be killed, tortured or enslaved.
"My point is11 he patronised certain witches and wizards who held very narrow minded feelings about other people in the community. Prejudice is a very dark and dangerous thing. I mean, if you need proof, I just explained to you that one of the founding reasons for the war was prejudice. People let their narrowminded attitudes consume them, and that's a very dangerous thing. It's also very habit forming.
"Right, our time is nearly up, but for homework I want you to write an essay on examples of the sort of behaviour that we've just discussed that you see around you, and how those instances might have been resolved differently. I'll see you next time."
Harry watched his students as they packed up to leave. Most of them seemed thoughtful and distracted as they made their way out of his class room. Success, I think, he thought to himself as he took a big bite out of the peach.
Some weeks later, Harry was sitting dejectedly at the staff table pushing his breakfast around on the plate. He still wasn't able to sleep properly. The dark circles under his eyes and his pale skin were testimony of that. Between having dreams alternately haunted by Greg, Voldemort and sometimes both at once, he was surprised he was able to function. He wasn't taking sleeping pills anymore but he was going through his headache medication and potions rather quickly. He noticed that Hermione still placed a kiss on his plaque every morning when she arrived in the hall, and Ron still reached out to touch the plaque as well. It was comforting.
On this particular morning, a small group of professors, headed by Albus, approached the Professors Weasley. Albus bid Harry a good morning and quietly took Ron and Hermione to one side, so that they were a little apart from the staff table and Harry. Harry paid no attention to this. He did not take offence either. He was going to be at the school for one year only and had no intention of involving himself in staff activities anymore than was necessary. He preferred to be left alone with his thoughts and his grief. Harry did look up though when he heard Professor Snape, who was part of the small group, hiss none too softly to the rest of the group:
"His information may be useful, but I have reason to believe that he has been misleading us from the very beginning and so I, for one, would find it difficult to believe any information he might give us."
Everybody who was able to hear that comment thought that it was out of line, even for Professor Snape. Albus looked sternly at Professor Snape:
"Severus!" exclaimed Minerva.
"Let us take this matter to my office shall we," Albus offered. A little more loudly he added, "please join us Professor Green. After all, we can't have this hanging over our heads, can we. This sort of thing needs to be discussed."
Terrific, thought Harry viciously adding, Where's that shoe when I need it? With a sigh, Harry pushed back his breakfast and followed the small group of Professors out of the Great Hall and into the Headmaster's office. Albus drew chairs for all of them and invited them all to sit. Harry chose the chair closest to the door. It also happened to be the chair that was situated the furthest away from the Potions Master. Damned if I'll sit in the middle of the room like I'm on trial.
"Professor, I -." Was as much as Albus was able to speak because Professor Snape immediately interrupted.
"Headmaster, I have reason to believe that Professor Green has been misleading all of us from the very beginning."
"I'm insulted by that Professor." Mocked Harry in exaggerated tones as he racked his brain, trying to think of what Professor Snape had stumbled upon which could have brought this on. He knew he had to be careful here. Professor Snape had survived many years as a double agent and a spy for the light. He was a very intelligent and calculating man. Harry knew he would have to watch his step.
"Professor Green arrived here with no recommendations, no references and no information about his past. I have made inquiries and the Ministry of Magic has no record of a 'Jason Green' having ever existed." Professor Snape explained to the room.
Shit. Now that he stopped to think about it, it was a logical step for someone who was suspicious of him to take, and he mentally slapped himself for not having thought to cover those tracks. Then again, I wasn't really in much of a position to be thinking very clearly. I hadn't intended on ever coming back here so why would I have tried to cover my tracks here as well. Right, damage control.
"Professor Green, would you like to respond to this? As a matter of formality, I would ask that you be honest with us. This is a very real concern which won't go away unless we are all honest with each other today," cautioned Albus. All eyes were on Harry.
"I will be honest with you. My name really is Jason Green." Said Harry. Professor Snape glared at him suspiciously. Harry rolled his eyes. "I can say this honestly." He told the professors in the room.
"I am puzzled as to why the Ministry does not have any record of your existence"
Bugger. This is quickly turning into an all out interrogation. Well, let's see who can best who in this game Snape.
He had to think very quickly. In a bid to buy himself more time, he stood up and moved to Albus' table to pour himself some water. He made his way to sit back down in his chair again. As he was doing this his mind had kicked into over drive. He couldn't admit who he really was. He had to come up with something believable. He had been drilled in the art of concealment and deceit during his years of training. He could lie like a champion and knew from experience that the best lies contained a subtle mix of truth and fiction. He had also been trained in how to deal with interrogation and he was more than capable of handling himself. He had learned to control his facial expression and body language and to keep his heart rate steady. He had even been tortured for information on occasion during the war, when he was unlucky enough to have been caught during a field mission. He was a pro at this game. This sparring session with Professor Snape was nothing.
However, even with his skill, he knew that he had to tread carefully here.
He could think of no convincing way to lie his way out of the question before him. So he settled for saying "Professor Snape, the Ministry does have a record of my existence." He knew that that would sound strange, and more than just a little suspicious. But then, he reasoned that most of the Professors on staff had already been a little suspicious of him. Most of the Professors on staff new that he had arrived to the interview with Albus with no references, credentials or background. They must have been suspicious at the outset. Mind you, I wasn't really in a position to prepare fully for my arrival here so I couldn't really expect anything less.
"So, you maintain that your name is really Jason Green." Inquired Professor Snape.
"Yes."
"And the Ministry does have a record of your existence."
"Yes."
"Even though I have informed you that inquiries have shown that no records for 'Jason Green' exist in the Ministry."
"Yes."
"And you are being completely honest?"
"Yes." Professor Snape creased his eyebrows and Harry knew he was becoming frustrated. He gained enormous satisfaction from that. The professor paused to think about the situation.
"That's not possible." The Astronomy professor said. She then stopped and looked around the room, as if embarrassed that she had actually spoken what was supposed to be a private thought. It is if you were born in the wizarding world and changed your name in the muggle world. thought Harry smugly.
"Actually it is," said Professor Snape, "if you've changed your name." Harry did not comment. He merely sipped from his glass of water. He knew that Professor Snape would spend the next few days trying to find a record of his change of name, if he hadn't already done so. He was almost certain that Albus would already have searched those records pretty thoroughly himself. In any case, any additional searches would reveal nothing, and Snape's anger would reach volcanic proportions. Oh, shame, thought Harry with a grin.
"The circumstances certainly beg the question: why was it necessary to change your name?" inquired the Potions Master, matter of factly.
This isn't the Professor Snape I know. He's not normally this restrained or polite. I wonder what's stopping him from just calling me a liar to my face. He looks like he wants to, Harry mused to himself. Of course, he's too clever to come out with all guns blazing. He certainly is subtle. I'll bet he's trying to trick me into being careless with his polite 'chit-chat' tone of voice. Sorry to spoil your day Snape, but I'm no amateur. Play on, thought Harry to himself.
Harry was still thinking of the best way to respond to the Professor when Albus saved him from the effort "If it is true, his reasons for his actions are his own, Severus."
The Professor recognised a rebuke when he heard one, so he paused to consider how he should continue. "You say that you were born here, but were not educated here" observed Professor Snape. The professor had already asked Harry about this at the first staff meeting. He was a little surprised that Albus was allowing Professor Snape to continue to fish for information like this, but Harry could tell that he was interested in receiving some answers himself, so, as long as the Professor was not overly rude, he would not stop the meeting. Harry sighed inwardly and turned his mind to addressing the observation.
"No. I was born in Britain, but educated elsewhere."
"If you are to be believed, you were educated 'down south', The Potions Master supplied.
"Yes."
"That is very vague, does this place have a name?" sneered Professor Snape.
"I had no wish to disclose the location the first time you asked me and I have no wish to do so now" answered Harry firmly.
"I believe that such a harmless piece of information would not hurt anything, would it Professor Green? It would help to quash some of the suspicion that seems to be directed at you, I'm sure." Albus cautiously suggested.
Harry sighed and thought about this. He was stuck with the 'educated down south' story so he was going to have do the best he could with it. He refilled his glass and sat back down. "I was fairly young when my family moved. We went to Australia," that's certainly 'south' "to live with some relatives for a while. One of my great uncles had died and we stayed to help my aunt manage her property while she got back on her feet. I only moved back here recently."
Hmmm…semi-true. I was taken to live with my relatives when I was young. And I really did just come back to the wizarding world very recently.
"Australia." Professor Snape repeated dryly, raising an eyebrow at Harry.
"Yes."
"Of course." The professor commented, clearly not sure whether to believe such a tale.
The room fell into silence. It was obvious that Harry wasn't going to be forthcoming and the professors in the room were unsure of how to proceed. After a short time had passed, Harry sighed theatrically in his seat. "Will that be all for today, Professor? While I have enjoyed our time together here it looks as though we'll only be repeating discussions that we've already had, which really is a waste of my time, if it isn't a waste of anyone else's," commented Harry quite pointedly.
"I will not continue with this line of questioning. You are hiding something and misleading us all, that much is certain. I am also certain that no amount of questioning will induce you to divulge the information," Professor Snape commented, somewhat casually. He then looked Harry in the eyes as he narrowed his. He spoke softly and slowly. "You must know though, that in times such as these, when the war is still fresh in people's minds, trust is a very rare commodity. I only suggest that if there should ever come a time when you should need people to trust you, do not be surprised if they are hesitant to give you their trust or aid if you give people a reason to doubt your honesty."
Harry wasn't easily intimidated. He glared daggers back at the Professor. A tense silence enveloped the room until Albus interrupted it. "Severus, this has gone far enough," he commanded. Neither professor looked away from the other.
"Professor Snape, I'm surprised that you of all people can make that observation," said Harry mildly, as he crossed his arms across his chest.
"And why is that?"
"If I were to believe the idle whispers of some of my students, you were once a death eater, a follower of the Dark wizard himself. In fact, if rumour is to be believed, your role as a death eater was discovered and you were forced to work for both sides of the war. Some stories tell that you were more afraid of Albus than of the Dark wizard. Nasty stories, all of them." Harry paused here to sip his water and let that information sink in. Professor Snape's jaw tensed, but he made no other movement to suggest that he had been caught off guard. Harry continued relentlessly. "But I don't place much faith in idle speculation. It's never nice and rarely true. I must admit though, I was rather curious about it all."
"Why on earth didn't you ask the professor about it then? Or Albus, if you were concerned about it," asked Minerva.
He deliberately paused and turned to give the Potions Master a look that spoke volumes. "Because it seemed personal, and was clearly none of my business." Without taking his eyes from the Professor, Harry said "Albus, I've been detained long enough. I can assure you and every person in this room that I have no other intent than to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. I don't know what you might think I'm hiding from you but I can assure you that I'm not the next Dark Lord. We all have secrets in this day and age but my secrets are my own and they are personal. They are nothing that will harm anybody here in any way, shape or form. I believe you can have no further questions. If you have no further questions, I will ask you to kindly unlock the door so I may leave.
The whole room was stunned into silence. "Yes, of course." Albus removed the charms he had placed on the door. "Thank you Headmaster, Professors. By your leave." He headed toward his rooms, the blood boiling in his veins, though satisfied with the interview.
The professors were still shocked by what had passed in the room. They silently watched Harry leave the office and close the door softly behind him.
"Severus, you go too far," began Albus.
"He's hiding something Albus."
"That much is certain but you are not in a position to judge him. Most of us have secrets. If you knew mine I dare say you would be shocked, and I doubt that you would ever be able to look me in the eye again." Albus' eyes twinkled as he said this.
The whole room of professors had not missed the implication behind that innocent remark and they wandered whether he really meant it that way at all, because it was really rather disturbing if he did.
"Surely you cannot trust him Albus." Recovered Professor Snape.
"He may not be forthcoming with information regarding himself, but he has given me no reason not to trust him." Replied Albus. "I remember a young man who, many years ago, had a dark secret of his own. If I had not shown him the trust that he deserved, he may have turned out very badly indeed. As it is, he turned out rather well, though he really does need to exercise caution when blurting out unfounded opinions, particularly when the subject of those accusations is within earshot." Albus gave Severus a knowing look.
Albus and Professor Snape found their seats again.
"Right. I called you all together because I want a small team to do a little field work. I have heard rumours of some activity in London. Muggle newspapers have described it as random violence perpetrated by members of a gang. I thought we should take a look, just to be sure it isn't anything more. Can't be too careful, can we?"
"Don't they have authorities to do that sort of thing Albus?" snapped Professor Snape.
"Severus, I would have thought that the war had taught us all that for reasons of our own, we should make sure that this is nothing more than muggle gang violence." He paused to look at Professor Snape, who was getting pretty tired of being 'looked at' by Albus. Truth be told, he was still a little disturbed by Albus' admission that if he knew his secrets he wouldn't be able to look him in the face again…
Albus continued, "Mr Weasley suggested that Jason may have had some valuable information to contribute since he was, until recently, working in muggle London and may be able to volunteer some information about whether these sort of occurrences are common in that area and he may have had some contacts which we could have utilised but not to worry, we'll be just fine. Now, as for volunteers…"
If any of the Professors had chosen to watch Harry after he had left the office, they would have seen him calmly walking down the stairs – and then trip embarrassingly down the last three stairs. The meeting had taken some time and Harry assumed that someone had organised to have his last class covered or cancelled. He had twenty minutes before his next class began, so he went to his rooms and made himself a coffee. He sat in his armchair and ran through the meeting again in his mind.
He had disclosed more information than he would have liked, but that had been unavoidable given the circumstances. The Professors may know now that he wasn't who he claimed to be, but Harry was content in the knowledge that no amount of searching of documents or records would betray his true identity (which was what he really wanted to keep secret), he had made sure of that.
He harboured a momentary fear that someone with knowledge that he wasn't who he was claiming to be, would link his sudden appearance and the suspicious circumstances surrounding it, with the disappearance of Harry Potter. But he dismissed this concern. There would be no logical reason for them to do that. With his concealment charms and contact lenses in place, he didn't look like Harry Potter. There were reports of enough disappearances and the occurrence of strange events during the war that his appearance could just as easily be linked to any one of them. They'd just recently emerged from a war. Lots of wizards and witches had secrets, so he wouldn't be considered too strange for having some of his own.
Harry was confident that even Albus would not be able to discover his identity with the scant information that he had. There was no denying that Albus was a very clever man with extensive contacts, but he was still human. An extraordinary human, but human nonetheless and that meant that he was fallible. He could make mistakes. This was the only thing saving Harry from certain discovery.
When Harry was younger, he had believed that Albus was capable of anything. That there wasn't anything that he couldn't do and there wasn't anything that he didn't know. But Harry recalled the events of his first year at Hogwarts. Albus had unfortunately been unaware that Voldermot had taken up residence in Professor Quirrel's body and was manipulating his actions for the better part of an entire school year. In his third year at Hogwarts, Albus had admitted to Harry that he was unaware that Harry's father and his friends were unregistered animagi. In Harry's fourth year Albus did not know that Professor Moody had been kidnapped and that the man who was posing as Professor Moody was actually Barty Crouch Junior, who had managed to play a key role in the resurrection of Voldemort from his position in the school.
Indeed, Albus could be fooled, but you had to get up pretty early in the morning to do it. It was tricky, but it could be done.
Harry sipped his coffee. He had arranged his armchairs on angles in front of the fireplace, much as they had been in the flat. He turned his attention to the picture of Greg and himself, which he had only put up on the mantle of the fire place a couple of days ago. He had put another picture of Greg and himself on one of the bedside chest of drawers and another picture of Greg on a shelf in his study. The photo he was presently looking at was taken only a year ago. He and Greg were both standing in their garden, arms around each other's waists, posing for the camera which Harry had set to a timer so that he could leave the camera to take the picture of both of them by itself.
His eyes started to sting. He was still grieving, but it had been just over a month since Greg had passed away and his grief had settled into a deep ache in his soul. He had made the decision on the weekend to put some pictures up around his suite of rooms. He had made the rooms as comfortable as he could, but there seemed to be so little warmth in them. When he was a student here, he loved to sit in the Gryffindor common room because it was always so warm and inviting.
His emotions had been close to the surface since Greg had passed away and he had had to make a conscious effort not to strangle Professor Snape in the Headmaster's Office. Though he appeared as though he was completely in control of the situation, he didn't feel that way. He was well trained to deal with situations like that one, and though it had been some years since he had had to rely on the skills of his training on a daily basis, his training had taken over during his 'interrogation' and he had controlled the situation.
So what's that now, Snape? Two – nil to me? You should have seen the way I gave him the slip, Greg, he thought a little wistfully. Greg would have been proud, and would have laughed hard at the expression on Professor Snape's face. Harry recalled the first time he had dinner with Greg's parents. They had thrown what felt like at least a hundred questions, about his childhood and his past, at him. Being who he was, he was uncomfortable with answering them in any great detail. He didn't think that "I'm Harry Potter, I killed Voldemort, the evil wizard who was threatening the existence of the wizarding and muggle worlds" would have gone over very well with Greg's parents and he was fairly certain that they would have him locked up if he'd mentioned it.
Greg knew he felt uncomfortable talking about his past. Early on in their relationship he had hinted to Greg that he'd had an unhappy childhood and Greg had never pushed him to discuss it. He had given Greg's parents only scant information about his past and had made every effort to steer the conversation to another topic.
"Jason," Greg laughed when they were alone after dinner, "the way you ducked and dodged those questions was amazing. You're a pro. If I ever commit a crime, I want you as a witness for my side."
Harry shook himself out of his daydream and looked over at the clock. It was just about time for his next class to begin. With a sigh he reluctantly got up and gathered his notes in preparation for his next class.
The small group arrived when they were summoned and kneeled to their Lord, as was their custom. The room was perpetually dark, and the only light in the room seemed to be coming from behind the screen. The small amount of light cast the kneeling figures into shadow. The unseen form behind the screen hissed menacingly. "I am becoming impatient."
"My Lord, we must set things up just so." stammered the kneeling form of a robed man.
"I tire of excuses." the voice behind the screen stated in hostile and clipped tones. The robed figures flinched from their positions at the back of the room.
"My Lord –."
"But I understand that we must not be suspected." Their Master finally conceded. The kneeling figures exhaled the breaths that they were unconsciously holding. They had all learned, very painfully, that it wouldn't do to displease their Lord.
"Yes, my Lord." murmured a sea of voices from the back of the room.
"Our short term goal?"
"An opportunity has presented itself." One of the kneeling figures stated, obviously relieved that he could offer a little good news to his Master.
"Discretion is the key."
"Of course, my Lord."
"Leave me now." their Master dismissed them. The robed figures rose and bowed deeply before leaving the room.