IV—A New Professor

"Good afternoon Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall greeted as he entered the room. He felt a pang of hurt entering that office, the last time he had been there was just after Dumbledore's tragic death and it had changed considerably since that time two short months before.

The new Head Master had replaced the whiz-bangs and whatnots with more practical things. However, some stayed the same; the pensieve glowed eerily from the corner, still clouded by Dumbledore's many memories.

Harry felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he looked up to all of the old Head Masters and mistresses and there was Dumbledore, his half-moon spectacles sliding down his nose asleep in his portrait. Harry felt the anger and sadness that he had as Dumbledore had fallen from the tower to the grounds below as if it had just happened again. He wanted him to wake and speak to him but he was afraid he would not be able to handle it.

"I found it hard to come in here too, my boy," Professor McGonagall admitted sadly, "in fact; I still find it difficult calling this office my own." With a deep breath, she recovered herself and wiped away any emotion she may have been feeling, "But now, down to business."

"What business is that, professor?" Harry asked with no feeling in his voice whatsoever.

"Harry, this school would not be open this year if I had not forced the ministry to keep it open despite their fears because at desperate times like these, magical education is most important." Her manner became suddenly (and uncharacteristically) passionate, "I refuse to leave children helpless to an evil so great. I have convinced the ministry of magic to open up to the idea of letting children as young as fourteen, use magic outside of school. Though they would only take as low as fifth years, I did it for you Harry."

"I don't understand, professor, I'm of age now. The restrictions no longer apply to me," he said warily.

"I know Harry."

He did not understand. How could fifteen and sixteen year olds possibly help him by being able to do magic outside of school? Suddenly the idea dawned on him.

The horrible thought must have put an unpleasurable expression on his face because Professor McGonagall continued with a softened expression, "Don't worry, Harry. We do not intend to use the students as an army for the Phoenix. However, the students need to know how to defend themselves in times of an attack, new methods that their parents may not know. Methods that you could, perhaps teach them."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"I mean, we are in desperate need for a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, and you, Harry, are the only person available."

"Oh, but surely I couldn't—"

"I know that you have done things you are not proud of Harry, for example, using an old text with dark magic written in the margins," she interrupted. A look of dismay crossed Harry's face. The Head Master continued, "However, I feel that it is your inexperience that we need the most. You are at the same level as your fellow students; therefore, you can teach and learn at the same time perhaps learning more as a teacher than you would as a student."

Harry could not believe what he was thinking. Me, DA teacher? She has gone absolutely mad.

Professor McGonagall explained to him that the class was to hold three days a week, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday; one full day of classes for all of the students. The seventh years would take the first class, and have two spares in the afternoon. The second class was for the sixth years after lunch with spares before and after meals and the fifth years would have a late night with class after dinner leaving the rest of the day as a spare for practicing in. Professor McGonagall promised to help him with class structure and any problems he was having with his other courses (which he was still required to take).

He sat back in his chair in the common room.

"Are you OK, mate? You look a little ill," Ron said, tapping his wand on his parchment to erase the ink.

"What's wrong Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry made a groaning sound set his head on the table. He mumbled something incoherent before coming back up, wet ink mirrored on his forehead.

"What?"

"I said; Professor McGonagall wants to make me the new DA teacher."

After he explained his dilemma, Hermione and Ron stared at him unbelieving, much as he thought they would do. Their mouths were slightly open and they did not blink.

"I'd be lying if I said you wouldn't be good at it. But what is she thinking making a student a professor?" Hermione exclaimed after her initial shock had passed.

Ron paused for a moment, thinking about his response. "I think that she's really smart in making you the new DA teacher, Harry." Harry and Hermione gaped at him before he continued, "I mean, you can only learn so much when you sit in class and write essays, but when you're the teacher, you really have to know your stuff right? And no offence, mate, but you're the one that needs it the most," he added quietly.

They could not argue with his logic, which was a first. Hermione was speechless and perhaps a little angry that she did not think of that herself. Her face was red and she was taken aback that she could not receive such an opportunity as Harry had received.

"Well, at any rate, we start DA next week. Right now, the class is just going to be a spare for study time, well for you anyway," explained Harry. "Professor McGonagall wants me to prepare to be a teacher."

"Professor Potter I suppose we'll have to call you now," Ron laughed, "that does sound odd."

Hermione's expression suddenly became sympathetic, all thought of wanting to be a teacher washed away. Harry looked ill when he spoke of being a teacher. He excused himself and went up to the boy's dormitory.

Sivinter was there, silently (and ironically) reading his Defense against the Dark Arts text. The queasy feeling in Harry's stomach did not subside. What do I do if some of these students know more about Defense than I do?

"So, Sivinter," Harry began nervously. He looked up from his book. "Have you ever taken a Defense against the Dark Arts course?"

"Oh, yes, I love Dark Arts Defense. It is my favorite class!" He exclaimed eagerly, "Do you know the teacher?"

Harry swallowed nervously but gave him an answer, "Oh, we're pretty close." Before Sivinter could get into a real conversation with him, he blew out his candle and crawled beneath the covers, hiding his head.

AN: Please review, it really encourages me to continue!