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Chapter 26-

First Classes and Something for the Goss

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The classroom was silent and cast in a pale yellow light. Morning was upon the old, prestigious school, and most of its occupants were still lost in the land of slumber. One person was awake with the blooming flowers, dressed in a deep blue cloak, black shirt and simple, denim jeans. He sat in content silence, his face smooth and free of wrinkles and lines.

He was sitting on a desk in the quiet classroom, his face turned to an open window, a small smile gracing his face. As he looked out into the azure sky of another day, his emerald eyes glazed over, as if seeing something long since passed.

It had been many years since he had entered one of the many classrooms inside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had been a student back then; young, but bound by the lies and horrors of war and Voldemort. But when he had entered this classroom for the first time in over five years, he entered it as a free man.

Voldemort was dead, the Second War over. Even though a new war was starting up, and another Dark Lord taking the place of Tom Riddle, Harry was not burdened by the constant burning of his scar and the never-ending fear of Voldemort attacking the ones he loved, destroying friendships and families.

He was no longer connected to a deranged maniac, intent on killing him and everyone he cared for. Harry had finally fulfilled the prophecy, and defeated Lord Voldemort for the last time. And even though there was another monster out in the world, terrorizing families and killing innocent muggles and magical folk alike, Harry could finally say that he was free.

His scar was just that: a scar. There was no secret threads binding him to another person, there was no visions through another's eyes. It was a reminder of all that he lost, and all that he could gain.

But, the threat that it could all be taken away from him was growing heavier upon his shoulders. This new Dark Lord was a pain in his side and a shadow in his thoughts. Dave Ream was already gone, lost as another casualty in a war between two worlds; two sides; the Light and the Dark.

He didn't deserve to go the way he did, and his family shouldn't have had to suffer through the pain of losing someone they loved. They didn't even know the real reason he had died, the real cause behind his death. If they had known the true reason why they had lost their son and brother, they wouldn't believe it and think Harry crazy.

The desk grew hard beneath him, causing his skin to tingle with pressure and pent-up circulation. He slid from the table, stretching out the cramps in his limbs and back. He had been on the desk for over two hours, sitting motionless, staring blankly through the window.

His arse hurt like hell.

"Bugger this," he groaned, rubbing his backside through the material of his pants.

"Should I leave you alone?" sounded the soft, humour-filled voice of Hermione. Harry chuckled and turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, a smirk pulling at her lips.

"No; you can join me if you like," he said with a grin as she laughed, and walked slowly in, her long cloak almost touching the floor.

"How're you holding up?" she asked with concern, walking over to the window, to look out into the rolling lawns. Harry shrugged with a loud sigh.

"I'm okay; as long as the kids don't set me on fire, I should be fine." He joked, playing with the edge of the desk. Hermione laughed and faced him, smiling, and a sparkle in her brown eyes.

"It's good to see you smiling," she said softly, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. Harry smiled and took her hand, kissing the knuckles gently.

"It feels good to have someone to smile with," he said, "the last few weeks have been … confusing."

"I know. But I like seeing you happy; I can't remember the last time you actually had a good time, apart from yours and Ginny's birthdays. By the way," she said with a mischievous grin, "whatever did Ginny get you?" Harry laughed and felt his face burn lightly.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said with a chuckle, while Hermione's face glittered with joy and humour.

"That's the old Harry I miss seeing," she said, slinging an arm around his waist. He wrapped a hand about her neck, kissing the top of her head. She sighed and leaned into him.

"And I miss the old Know-It-All from seventh year," he said in mock sincerity as she elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't push your luck, Scarhead!" she said with a fake glare, before both of them dissolved into laughter. The first classes would begin in less than an hour, and Harry was once again going through his notes for each of his classes. That day, he would have third year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors first period, followed by a free period. After Lunch, he had a seventh year class mixed with students from all four houses, and then a first year class of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. The last he was slightly nervous about.

How would the Slytherins act around him? Would their parents have told them how he was the one who had killed Voldemort? Their master. Or would they have been too young to fully understand the monster their parents supported? But who knew how their young minds could have been corrupted over the years, with their family full-heartedly supporting the Dark Lord. But, most of them would have been too small to understand why their parents always vanished.

Many of them would be parentless; their mothers and fathers either dead or rotting in Azkaban.

Or were they once again killing as Death Eaters in the ranks of another Dark Lord? Were most of the small eleven-year olds already fantasizing about joining the Dark Lord's circle, to suffer through his merciless wrath; tortured and possibly even killed for nothing but a miniscule glimpse of power.

If they were, then the world was a harsh, painful place. More so than Harry had ever thought.

Breakfast had finally finished, with Harry having left half an hour before the bell to make sure everything was set and ready for his first class. He was sitting restlessly at his desk, occasionally jumping up and pacing, before sitting back down. It was on one of these rounds when he heard the unmistakable chatter of students walking towards the door.

He froze, straightening out his clothes, smoothing over his hair, making sure he was presentable. What's wrong with me? He thought. I'm acting like Lockhart!

He shuddered, as memories of that ill-fated man came flooding into his mind. Then, the first student of his first class walked through the door. She was a tall, blonde-haired Ravenclaw by the blue symbol on her robes. She smiled at him awkwardly before taking a seat in the middle of the room. Not long after, she was joined by another girl, and another.

Soon, the room was full of quietly whispering students, all looking at him in awe. He shifted nervously, uncomfortably aware of the row of giggling girls in the front row of seats. They kept staring at him, going red and giggling when he looked at them, before whispering to each other behind their hands. It was starting to irritate him.

He stepped to the front of the room and just stared. The room went immediately silent. He was shocked tremendously. Had he become one of those professors like Snape and McGonagall that could gain immediate quiet by just walking into the room or looking around with a particular look?

He wasn't sure if he liked it. "Well, I'm sure you all know who I am," he started as a few people laughed; the girls in the front row giggled loudly, as if it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Harry looked at them until they were quiet, but as soon as he looked away, he could see them look at each other with broad smiles. "For those who don't, I'm Harry Potter."

A hand flew up at the back of the room. Harry pointed at her and said, "If you have something to say, could you state your name then question so I can get to know you all better?"

The dark haired girl nodded. "Angelica Henderson. Are you really him?" she said boldly, with raised eyebrows. Many people nodded with wide eyes, and curious faces. Harry sighed.

"Why would I have said my name was Harry Potter if I wasn't really him?" he said while raising one eyebrow. The girl went pink before composing herself a bit more.

"Because, when I was in first year, we had this caretaker who said he was the real Harry Potter. But, not even a month into the term; he turned out to be this guy from London pretending to be Harry Potter. And he was really ugly, so we knew it couldn't have been you!" The girl grinned and nodded, while other people started talking about the incident.

Meanwhile, Harry was completely and utterly stunned. Why would someone pretend to be him? And wouldn't someone have known it wasn't him, like McGonagall or even Snape? Was he that easily copied, to be used as a sort of popularity and fame device? It was strange. And what was even stranger was the fact that he had tuned out again – and the class was all staring at him in complete silence.

He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "Right… well, I am the real Harry Potter and erm…have been for the last twenty-two years," he said with a grin as a few more people laughed. "Anymore questions?" Nearly the whole class's hands flew up. He groaned. "Any questions not relating to me in any way?" Almost all the hands went down.

He pointed to a boy in the back row. "Edward Smith. Are you going to teach us some of the spells you used to defeat You-Know-Who and all the Death Eaters?" he asked quickly. Harry sighed.

"I thought I said no questions relating to me?" he said warily. The boy frowned.

"It was mostly relating to class, sir." Edward said, as Harry sighed, knowing he was right.

"Well, I will be teaching you some of the spells that helped me out a lot of times when I was fighting," he said, "spells like the Disarming, stunning, shield charms, and others that can be used as both an attack and defence." He pointed to a girl who had been waving her hand frantically in the air for about three minutes.

"Helen Sanders. How long before we actually get to learn these spells?" she asked, "and will we be doing any theory work?" She reminded Harry of Hermione, and he couldn't help smiling at her. A few girls threw her scandalous looks.

"We will be starting straight away on Shield Charms, before moving onto some other things. In the second term, I will be bringing in some Dark Creatures for you to study, and learn spells to defend you from them. And the last two terms will be divided between learning offence and defence spells, and Duelling." Harry said with a grin as excited chatter broke out. "And there won't be as much Theory work, perhaps a few assignments to give you the basic understanding of some spells."

The girl looked put out but nodded, writing something down with a tall, spotted quill. "Anymore questions relating to school work?" A few hands went up and he reluctantly picked one of the girls down the front. She giggled and glanced at her friends before looking up at him with big blue eyes.

"So, you actually are the Harry Potter?"

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"How was your first class?" Hermione asked him at Lunch, chewing idly on the end of a sandwich. Harry shook his head, and put his hands over his face. "That bad, huh?" he nodded and groaned, looking up through his fingers at all the students eating lunch at the four long tables below them. He could see a few people staring up at him. He moaned louder.

"All they wanted to know is how I killed Voldemort or if I was the real Harry Potter. Apparently, I had a copy cat a few years ago –" he started but stopped at the look on Hermione's face. He narrowed his eyes. "You knew, didn't you?" Hermione let out a giggle and nodded.

"Yes, I thought it was funny. Minerva told me yesterday, and I couldn't stop laughing all through tea," she said, shaking her head in mirth. Harry only sighed.

"I didn't think it was funny," he said, "it's weird. How would you like it if someone impersonated you while being a caretaker here? He could have at least pretended to be a Quidditch player!" Hermione laughed and swatted him on the arm as Harry chuckled. "How were your first classes then?"

Hermione smiled. "A little better than yours. Except I had the sixth year Slytherins mixed with Gryffindors; not a good mix. I spent the whole lesson trying to stop a debate between them about you." Hermione said as Harry gaped.

"Me?" he stuttered.

She nodded briskly. "They were arguing about why you left, how you killed Voldemort and why your back now," she said with a small smirk, "some of the things they came up with were quite clever." Harry just stared at her, speechless.

"How did you stop it?" he asked hoarsely.

"I listened in for a while, before I threatened to curse them all; that got an immediate reaction. Apparently, they've all read the articles written about you, Ron and me over the years; about how I was quite capable of turning a stone into a castle and so on. Quite interesting, really." Hermione said with a modest smile. "But then I decided to just tell them half-truths about everything, and said how much Transfiguration helped you win the war."

"And?" he said with a desperate look. She grinned.

"They all bought it and they all can't wait to start learning something that will kill a Dark Lord." Hermione laughed but Harry frowned. Everyone seemed to be making a joke about the Second War. They all seemed to be forgetting the prices paid for defeating Voldemort. Forgetting who died to save their lives, to put an end to the war. It was as if Albus Dumbledore was nothing more than a fading memory, already replaced by images of this new war, new faces and places.

It was as if he was not important.

"Its good that they're moving on," Hermione said as if reading his thoughts. "Do you really want them dwelling on the past? Hoping that things didn't happen the way they did? It's a good thing they're moving on, because it shows us not all is lost in the world. It shows us that they haven't given up."

Once again, Hermione Granger was right. He didn't know how she did it – or Ginny for that matter. The both of them always seemed to know what was going on in his head, and they always had something to do or say, that made him feel better. They were his heroes.

"I know, but it's like they're forgetting him, Hermione. It's as if they don't care," he said with a painful sigh.

"They won't forget, Harry. They never will. And it's not that they don't care, it's just that they don't want to keep remembering him and the way he died. It hurts too much. Plus, most of these students don't even remember him. The Seventh years were in first year when Dumbledore was headmaster and we were in our last year. They would be the ones that remember him and the war even though they were kept out of it." Her mouth thinned slightly and Harry felt slightly nervous.

He knew she was thinking about the Final Battle, and how she, Ron and Ginny had been locked inside with the first years, by Harry when the fighting had started up. He knew it hadn't been fair, but it was only to keep them safe and alive. He didn't know what he would've done without them. Any of them.

"I'm sorry," he said just as the bell sounded and the students and teachers started moving of. Hermione gave him a smile and patted his shoulder.

"I know," she said before walking swiftly from the room, glancing back to give him a sad look. Harry sighed, before sitting up and making his way to his second class of the day; the seventh years. They were waiting outside the classroom door in relative silence, with only a few conversations sounding. But silence greeted him as he walked door the corridor, eyes ahead, ignoring the many gazes upon him.

Once he had unlocked the door, opened it wide, he stepped to the front of the room, and watched the many students file in. he was proud to see that most of them were Gryffindors, mixed with a few Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and of course, Slytherins. He was happy to note that the front row wasn't full of giggling girls. Instead, it was a mix between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor boys, quietly unpacking their bags.

Once everyone had out their parchment and quills, Harry smiled. "Hello, I'm your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor this year, Harry Potter. You can call me Professor Potter, sir, Harry; I don't mind as long as you listen and learn." He started, fiddling with a piece of parchment in his hand. "I'll just mark the roll and then I will answer questions and outlive the course structure leading up to the exams."

About ten minutes later when the roll had been called, and Harry had placed names with all the faces, he took a seat in the end of his desk.

"So, this year is your last, and it will be you're hardest yet. I'm not going to go into a whole speech about how important your NEWTs are, because I know how annoying it gets when every single professor says it to you," he said as the class laughed in agreement, "It wasn't that long ago when I was in seventh year, and I can tell you it was my hardest ever." A hand flew into the air. It was a sandy haired Gryffindor – Bryan Andrews – if he remembered correctly.

"But in your last year, you had Voldemort trying to kill you as well as your exams. And didn't you get really good marks in the NEWTs?" he asked loudly. Harry was startled yet somewhat proud that the boy had used Voldemort's real name, not some name the press had made up, thinking it would lesson the fear.

"Yes, I did have Voldemort after me in my last year, but I still managed to get my studying done as well as training for the Final Battle. If I could juggle two things like that, and get through both of them relatively unscathed, don't you think you can?" Harry said with raised eyebrows, as a few people nodded, smiling.

"But you were super smart, weren't you?" piped up a skinny girl, wearing her dark hair in pigtails. Harry almost laughed aloud.

"I think you've got me confused with Hermione," he smirked, "she was the smart one; smartest witch of her age, if I remember correctly. It's no wonder she got a job here, she's a great teacher."

"You mean, Professor Granger, is Hermione?" another girl asked with an awed face. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, Hermione is the new Transfiguration teacher, and my best friend." Harry said as another hand went up.

"Where's Ron Weasley if you both are here? I thought you were never separated?" the girl said as he frowned.

"Ron's working in the Ministry, so he couldn't come here. I think that's enough questions about –"

"Where were you for the past five years?" someone said loudly.

"How come you ran away after killing You-Know-Who?" another asked.

"He ran because he's a coward!" Harry held up a hand to stop the onslaught of questions, the last statement fading away.

"Who said that?" he demanded, stepping towards the front row, scanning the room with a fierce gaze. No one moved, not even a pair of eyes glanced in the direction on the speaker. He shrugged, and started walking up and down the rows, watching each students face for any sign of guilt. For anything. He didn't take Occlumency for three whole years as well as Legiliumcy for two without picking up a few things on the way. He would find them.

He walked up the left hand side of the room, filled with mostly Slytherins. As he looked at each face in turn, his eyes fell on a boy at the back of the room. He had dark hair, falling to his eyes, with cold steel eyes. Harry stopped in front of him, reading hunger, power, and complete guilt in the boys eyes. He smiled.

"Why do you call me a coward?" he asked simply, watching as the Slytherin's eyes flashed.

"Why are you accusing me of saying that?" he said angrily, giving his position away immediately. Harry smirked.

"I don't accuse people unless I know they're guilty," he said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back slightly, looking down at the boy. Harry knew he was over-reacting to the childish call, but he was trying to make a point. The boy – Michael Crow – looked up at him coldly.

"I called you a coward because you are a coward," he spat. A few people gasped, but Harry only stared at the dark haired boy.

"Why am I a coward?"

"You ran away from the Dark Lord and his followers because you knew they were too powerful!" he said as Harry frowned.

"What do you mean I ran away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters? When I left, Voldemort was dead at my feet and most of his 'servants' were either dead, arrested or had disappeared. So, tell me, who were the cowards in that sentence?" Harry asked. The boy glared fiercely at him.

"You are! Why else would you have run away then?"

"That's a matter between me and my family," Harry said as the boy chuckled darkly.

"You don't have any family; the Dark Lord killed them all. And I'm glad!" Michael Crow said, grinning as Harry's face fell.

"Family don't have to have the same blood as you, they just need a place in your heart," he said, remembering that those had been some of the words Albus Dumbledore once spoke to him.

Michael smiled sadistically, and Harry thought it reminded him of someone. "And who else did he kill, I wonder? Would it have been the great Albus Dumbledore? Everyone knows he was just this crack-pot old fool; I couldn't be happier that he's dead."

Harry felt a blind rage flare inside him. How dare this Slytherin say those things? If it hadn't been for the years of self-control and keeping his emotions under check, he would have pulled out his wand and turned the kid into the snake he was. But, a voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Ginny was saying, 'Calm down, don't let him anger you. It doesn't matter what he says or what he does. It doesn't matter.'

He took a deep breath and stared down at Michael Crow, forcing as much anger and cold fury into his eyes as he could. And he took a sick pleasure in seeing the boy's gaze falter, and shine with unmistakable fear. He smiled and leaned down so he was mere inches from Crow's face.

"He was a great man. And I don't care that you're happy he's gone. You know what? I couldn't be bloody gladder that Voldemort is finally back in the hell he was spat from!" He hissed in a deadly whisper, watching as Michael's face paled quickly. "And if you ever, ever, speak like that about one of my friends again, you will dearly regret it!" And to make his point clear, he flicked out his wand and touched it to the Slytherin's shoulder. He smiled grimly, before standing up and shoving his wand away.

None of the other students had heard the words he had spoken into the boy's ears, but he was sure the word would soon be out. Harry Potter threatens student!

It wasn't as if he would act on his words, but it was merely to frighten the Slytherins into knowing that he hadn't gone soft over the years. He was still the most powerful wizard alive; the one who had defeated Voldemort at only seventeen – and he didn't want them to forget it.

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Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Sorry for the incredibly late update. Year 11 officially sucks. I've had homework every single night for the last two weeks, and I only managed to write BTEOFH and SM between study breaks. Sigh… Now I have to go and finish the chapter for BOH, which is barely half written. And plus, my computer has been completely cleaned out, so it's free of viruses and all that crap. My internet has been stuffing up; it won't let me read any stories or new chapters on Portkey. I have no idea why! So that means I can't read all the good, new chapters that have been uploaded in the last week and a bit, even though I desperately want to!

This year, definitely sucks.

Thanks to those that have reviewed; yay I got to OVER 250! Yay! I can't believe it! I wonder what I will get to this chapter! Please review and all that!

Thanks and Later Days…

DW