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Ron's Take

The Burrow

The Day After the Wedding

In the Kitchen

Why am I up at this time? It's 10:00, and I went to bed at, at the earliest, at 4:00, and didn't get to sleep until at least 5:00. Mum just shook me awake - somewhat violently, mind you, considering the time - at 9:00, saying that 'Minerva' (Professor McGonagall to me) wished to speak to Hermione and I at 10:15.

"What? What could she possibly want at this hour?" I remember saying drearily. It was awfully early.

She just looked at me, a slightly reproving air to her glance, but clearly as in the dark as I was. "It's not that early, Ron! I don't really know...but no doubt it's important, and you won't want to keep her waiting."

I agreed on this point, as even though it had been a long time since I had been McGonagall's student, I had vivid and detailed memories of her strictness. Not that she was bad, and as a matter of fact, I liked her. I don't think it was ever mutual, though - Harry and I made too much trouble, but while Harry saved the world and all, I didn't really have any redeeming features in McGonagall's eyes. In any case, if anybody was McGonagall's star student, it was Hermione. The two were very alike and had an understanding. Or something of the sort. In any case, the juxtaposition of Hermione and I seeing McGonagall together just didn't make any sense to me.

"So Hermione, do you know what this is?" I said as I sat down next to her, as she had naturally been a little quicker to get out of her bed and was already eating.

Hermione shook her head. "No clue. I know as much as you do - your Mum got an owl this morning asking if she could speak to the two of us this morning."

I frowned. "Couldn't be a problem with the war, or Death Eaters or something? I mean she'd want Harry too then, right?"

A worried look flew across Hermione's face. Evidently, the same thought had crossed her mind. "Well, yes, that's what I figure."

"But what could be this urgent?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think we'll need to wait long."

As if on cue, Minerva McGonagall, looking slightly more lined, much older, and more shades of gray starting to sneak into her previously uniformly black hair, burst in from the fire. It was just about the most stately entrance you can have while spinning like a top from Floo, but this wasn't surprising. 'Stately' was usually a pretty accurate word to describe McGonagall. 'Dignified' also fit the bill well.

"Minerva!" Mum said warmly as she brought McGonagall into the kitchen. "Ron and Hermione had just finished eating," she said with a meaningful glance to us, causing us to choke down our food quickly and finish it up while trying to be as neat and orderly as possible. Just the sight of her had brought the old tendencies back - when she passes, sit up straight, don't laugh, don't talk, be respectful...It clearly had the same effect on Hermione, who, unsurprisingly, was sitting with her back rigid in the manner she used to have in classes, and bore a look of deep enthrallment despite the fact that McGonagall hadn't started talking yet. McGonagall smiled (which was very rare, or used to be in any case, if memory served) as she sat herself down slowly in a chair on the other side of the table.

"Mr. Weasley," she said, nodding to me. "Miss Granger." We both nodded respectfully, staying silence. "I'm here to inform you something I'm sure you'll both be very happy about - Hogwarts is going to re-open."

"Really," Hermione said, clearly excited, but then looked mortified at almost interrupting McGonagall. "Sorry, Professor," she began to apologize vehemently, but McGonagall simply raised her hand, immediately silencing her. I stayed silent, but was very happy - nobody had envisioned Hogwarts re-opening for another few years at the least, and some questioned whether it was ever going to happen at all.

"As you imagine, this has many complications. We're going to have a huge first year class, and much smaller fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh year classes - the majority of which will be transfers from schools that have previously opened, or home-schooled students. However, the issue I've come to talk to you about is Professors. We've filled up most positions, but there are two remaining. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I am offering each of you a job at Hogwarts teaching, for at least one year, and more, if you wish. Mr. Weasley, if you feel inclined to accept, you will take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and I was hoping that you might want to be the Head of Gryffindor House as well. Miss Granger, if you accept, you will be the Transfiguration professor. Provided you take the job, you will of course receive a substantial amount of pay, and live at Hogwarts as teachers."

The two of us sat in stunned silence. We hadn't known what to expect, but this came out of nowhere for both of us. Hogwarts re-opening, after a five-year closure? Me, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - and Head of Gryffindor? Why not Harry? Hell, why not anyone else? It was like receiving my prefect badge all over again, but even less sensible.

"Well," I said, planning to say that I was going to consider it, "yes."

McGonagall and Hermione both looked surprised.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"I'll do it," I said, this time with firmer conviction and surprising myself as well. "But Professor McGonagall," I said. "Aren't you the Transfiguration professor? And Head of Gryffindor?"

McGonagall shook her head. "Well, no, not anymore. I'm the Headmistress now. Miss Granger, I assume you will owl me later and tell me." McGonagall started to get up.

Hermione shook her head with a decisiveness I didn't expect. "No, Professor. I've decided - I'll do it as well."

Both of us must have looked floored. My impetuousness wasn't exactly a new trait in me, so my acceptance may have been surprising, but at least within the realm of reality - Hermione had many more job options than me (deny it though she might) and could do virtually anything she wanted.

"Well, why not? I get to teach my favorite subject, stay at my favorite place, and spend time with Ron - it's practically my dream job." I felt my heart rise and felt incredibly sissy for it (but didn't particularly care) at her last comment about me. She seemed to be blushing a little as well, almost as if it came out accidentally. I saw Mom, who was pretending to wash the dishes, smile in the reflection in the window.

"Well," McGonagall said, slightly at a loss for words and surprised at both of us. "I can not pretend that I am not extremely pleased with the results. However, if you so wish, either one of you can back out of the job if you rethink it within a week - just send me an owl. If not, school term starts in a month, so it would be good if you could come in three weeks." We both nodded in understanding.

"One last thing. Make sure the both of you are well prepared." Hermione nodded seriously, although I was fairly sure that she wasn't really the target of this directive. "Teaching is not as easy as it looks. Remember - exercise control. You two will be the two youngest teachers at Hogwarts in decades - perhaps ever. It's important that you have full knowledge of everything that is happening at all times! You both have tough jobs ahead of you - but you've survived worse, I'm sure." An ironic smile twitched at McGonagall's lips, and Hermione and I both nodded in agreement. "Well," she said, turning around briskly. "See you in three weeks. One last thing - Mr. Weasley, if you wouldn't mind being the Quidditch referee for the games?" I was ecstatic, and nodded rapidly to show my agreement. Playing Quidditch had been my number one option before this came around, although I had been rethinking doing it for a long time. She smiled wryly. "Excellent. And another thing - both of you will have to turn in your required reading lists by the Friday following the next. I'm sorry to give you all this on such short notice, but we weren't sure whether we would re-open until now, and I didn't want to have you commit only to not open, and force you to look for another job. If you need any help picking books, I have plenty of previous books either of you could look at, or I'm sure you could fine many good ones in Flourish & Blotts. The manager is very knowledgeable about these things, just tell him you're a Professor at Hogwarts, the school will pay, naturally. So, I'll see you two in three weeks. I had a lovely time, Molly." Mom smiled back, and McGonagall was gone in a green flash, with no sign except the fading echo of her voice yelling 'Hogwarts!' into the air.

Hermione's Take

Diagon Alley

Four Days After the Wedding

Flourish and Blotts

"Honestly, Ron, is it that hard?"

"Yes, Hermione," Ron insisted. "We've had - count them - two good Defense teachers for the duration of our time at Hogwarts. Including Harry."

"You're referring to Lupin, I assume."

"Right. So I have to pick new books - I don't want to follow the path of those who I supposedly learned from, if you get my meaning. Particularly the part where they leave after one year."

I shrugged. "Well remember, Harry told us that has only happened since Dumbledore refused to give Voldemort the job. I highly suspect that you're going to be the first Defense teacher to last more than a year for a long time. Provided you want to stay, of course," I added hastily. Secretly, I was hoping Ron and I were going to be staying at Hogwarts, teaching together, for a very long time.

"Well," said Ron, thoroughly exasperated. "Have you picked your books?"

I shook my head. "I'm choosing between..."

"Spare me, if you don't mind. These bloody books! How on earth am I supposed to know which ones are any good? Or what level they're for?"

"You could read them, I guess."

"I know that," Ron said irritably. "And if I had the time on my hands I might, you know, but I don't! There are thousands of these!" Then Ron suddenly took on a look of comprehension as if having a brainwave. "I know," he said, clearly excited. "I won't have any books."

"None?" I said, sounding - and feeling - scandalized. Books, to me, had always been the most important part of education, although I had always known of - though never understood - Ron's averse feelings to them.

"Oh very well," he said with a grin, after looking at my face. "I'll have books for each of the lower years - elementary stuff, you know, stuff they can learn from any old thing. Fifth year and up though, I think I'll have no books. Besides, they'll have The Standard Book of Spells for the more basic stuff anyway. How do you think that sounds?" Ron asked, sounding pleased.

"Well, it'll certainly be different from any Defense teacher we've had before."

"Good," he said firmly, then scanned aimlessly. "But that still leaves the problem of the lower years."

I looked around at the Transfiguration books, once again trying to recognize books I had found particularly helpful. Ron saw my face light up as I pulled out one of my particular favorites - The Complexities of Beginning Transfiguration.

"Excellent!" I said, glad that I had gotten something done. "This will be one for first years."

Ron raised his eyebrows as he looked at it. "Uh...Hermione," he said, obviously hating to burst my bubble. "That's a little heavy reading, I think. I mean, not all students will be as...eager to read as you were back then, I don't think."

I looked painfully at the book I was clutching defensively to me, which, now that I noticed, did look rather big, and reluctantly shelved it, deciding to take Ron's advice.

"Alright," he said, pushed to his limit. "McGonagall said something about the manager, right? I'll go get him."

I nodded and scanned as he left. Pointless. I looked over as the manager led a pleased-looking Ron to the bookshelf where we were at.

"Excellent, excellent," the manager said, in a low, soft, voice that was close to a whisper. Annoyingly, he seemed to be perpetually fidgeting, and moving, and his eyes, a deep green, looked out at you for milliseconds before rapidly moving somewhere else. Always moving.

"Now," he said, after looking. "What can I get for you two? Mr. Weasley, you said you were looking for a book each for first through third years?"

"That's right."

"Well," he said. "This one is an excellent one for third years, although some people consider it a little advanced." The little man pulled out a medium-sized book called Understanding the Dark Arts and handed it to Ron, who flipped it open and looked at the Table of Contents. He seemed to like the chapter names, in any case.

"Alright, this sounds good." Ron handed the book back, and the little man made a note on a piece of paper that was previously folded into his pants pocket.

"Excellent, excellent," the manager said again. He seemed to say that a lot. He found two more books, one of which Ron found suitable, the other of which Ron said looked 'a little too basic'. The manager smiled - he seemed to enjoy the challenge of finding an appropriate book for Ron, as opposed to being annoyed. After two more failed attempts, the manager found one suitable to Ron's tastes. I rolled my eyes. In the intervening time, I had found a Transfiguration book for fifth years, and another for fourth year.

"And what do you need, Miss Granger?"

"I need one book for third year and one for first." I had already known the second, and the sixth and seventh years would be in their NEWT courses, and the Ministry typically suggested fairly good options.

The Manager, who seemed to know how to find some kind of pattern in the slick but seemingly randomized placements of the books, quickly found two excellent books for the courses. Ron and I left Diagon Alley and sent a joint owl to McGonagall saying that the Manager had our orders for the books. After that, Ron went and got some new robes at Madam Malkin's, and we left, returning to the Burrow.