A/N: I did so much research for this chapter. It's staggering. I must have gone through half of the HPL and a quarter of the Prince for ref. I hope it pays off!
Chapter 9: The Staff
Harry and Dumbledore sat behind the staff table, with the heads of houses, who had all arrived early for school. Harry sat at Dumbledore's right, and they were eating lunch and talking.
"Mr. Crockett, I have decided that it would be pointless not to tell you this in person; I would love it if you would be our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the coming school year."
"Thank you, Professor! I gladly accept. And, please, sir, call me Harry," said Harry. It was off-putting that Dumbledore kept calling him Mr. Crockett. Also, he wasn't used to the name, so he worried that he wouldn't respond immediately.
"Of course, Harry. And in return, I hope you will call me Albus?"
That's going to be fun to get used to, Harry thought.
"Thank you," he said.
"After lunch, since you are here, would you like to pick out your quarters and classroom?"
"Very much, Prof—Albus."
"As term starts in two days, most of the other professors will be arriving tomorrow to set up their classrooms, and the new professors will claim their quarters."
"Are there any other new teachers?" asked Harry.
"There is a new professor of herbology. His name is Wister Bloom. And, of course, it will only be Minerva's second year," he gestured to his left, where a woman sat. She was in her early thirties, Harry guessed. Her hair was long and brown and cascaded down past her shoulders. It was lovely to see her looking so much less careworn - Harry suddenly realized that he couldn't wait to get to know her, now that they were peers.
"Minerva, this is Harry. He is going to be our new defense against the dark arts teacher. Minerva teaches transfiguration," he said, and just loud enough for McGonagall to hear, he whispered, "Be careful, Harry, while a welcomed addition to our staff, she's also a menace."
Harry blinked a few times. Was that a joke?
"Only to you, Albus," said McGonagall, "Stop trying to set me up with the new teachers."
Harry's eyes went wide.
Dumbledore looked mock-offended. "I had no intention of setting you up with Mr. Crockett, here," said Dumbledore. He paused. "Mr. Bloom, on the other hand—"
"Is obviously not interested in women, Albus, dear, and far too young for any men nearby who'd be interested."
Harry was starting to get the impression that the working culture at Hogwarts was a little different from the culture at the Ministry.
"It's a good thing I hired him for his teaching and herbology skills rather than his looks, then," said Dumbledore pointedly.
Harry hadn't spoken though the entire exchange. He was, at this point, trying to keep his jaw from dropping. He wondered if his professors had been this candid in his time and kept it away from the students, or if they'd filtered themselves with age. He suspected it was a combination of the two. He just couldn't imagine his Dumbledore and McGonagall discussing their love lives.
"So how about you, Crockett?" said McGonagall, pulling Harry from his image of the 120 year old Dumbledore and the 70 year old McGonagall discussing Snape's relationship potential.
"Wha?" asked Harry.
"Wife? Girlfriend? Extremely charming children?" asked Professor McGonagall impatiently.
"It's just Fawkes and me right now," said Harry. "My wife and I divorced a few years ago," said Harry, "And she and my three children moved away."
"Oh," said McGonagall solemnly, mirroring Hagrid's earlier response to the list of people Harry had seen die. I really did have a crappy life, thought Harry, suddenly liking the fifties a lot more.
"But, well, it was for the best," said Harry. "The kids love their mother, and I'm happy. This is where I want to be," he finished, refraining from telling his old teachers his entire story for fear of oversharing.
"And we certainly want you here," said Dumbledore, seriously.
"Well, we know you want him here, Albus," said Minerva, smirking.
"I certainly do, Minerva," said Dumbledore, ignoring Minerva's intended meaning. "He won a duel with Tom on the lawn not twenty minutes ago."
"Tom Riddle?" asked Minerva, her smirk gone. "I've never seen anyone so much as leg-lock him."
"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "Harry dodged quite a few unforgivables, if I am not mistaken, and gave Tom something to remember him by. Harry, what did you do to his nose?" asked Dumbledore, his lips twitching up slightly.
"I just want people to be able to recognize him for the snake he is, Professor," said Harry innocently. "Unfortunately, I doubt it will work."
"He will be able to reverse it?" asked Minerva.
"No," said Harry, "I think he could if he wanted, but I'm pretty sure he won't. I just don't think altering his appearance will be enough to scare people off from him."
"However, it was highly amusing," said Dumbledore.
"What exactly did you do?" asked McGonagall, clearly a little envious of Dumbledore's praise.
"I changed his nose into a snake's," said Harry. "I met him before, and he was very rude. I decided it was about time to teach him a lesson before he gave me any more trouble.—I won't be teaching lessons that way at school."
"Tom has a talent for giving people trouble. I'm glad to see someone stand up to him. Anyway, Harry, if you have finished eating, I could show you around to the available staff quarters."
Harry put down his knife and fork. His plate wiped itself clean.
"I look forward to working with you, Minerva," said Harry.
"Just as long as Dumbledore doesn't make you think I'll be doing anything else with you," said Minerva.
"Of course," said Harry smiling, while Dumbledore scoffed.
"And you, Albus, don't scare him away! He seems nice."
"Minerva, I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about," said Dumbledore, "Come on, Harry, what'll it be?" he asked, striding quickly away from the staff table. Harry almost skipped to keep up with him. "The dungeons are very quiet—but, no, you don't seem like a dungeon sort of person, unless it's just for a visit. There's the basement—very close to the kitchens?"
"Do you have any tower rooms?" asked Harry. "Fawkes likes a view."
"Ah, yes. I am inclined towards tower living, myself. We do have one unused tower, if you'll follow me." They walked past the house point hour glasses, which were now all in the "zero" points position, and climbed the marble staircase. Eventually, Harry recognized where they were going. They had been climbing the complicated and twisted rout towards the divination tower. He wasn't going to tell Dumbledore until he saw the room, but Harry thought there was no way he was going to be living in the future divination classroom. The curtains were oppressive, and the fireplace was stifling. The memories were atrocious.
They arrived under the trapdoor, and Dumbledore stopped and looked up.
"It doesn't have a proper staircase. There's only a ladder."
He waved his wand and the trap door flew open and the ladder unfolded. Dumbledore climbed up first. Harry didn't bother climbing the ladder. He levitated himself up through the trap door and alighted nimbly in the tower, smirking at Dumbledore, who was slightly out of breath.
"Okay there, Professor?" Harry asked with mock concern.
"You sound like Minerva."
"Seems like the two of you have a thing."
"What kind of thing, Harry?"
"Oh, er," said Harry. He turned red, unsure if he'd misunderstood the workplace culture, and even more uncomfortable with the lack of euphemisms in the fifties and wondering why he'd said anything in the first place, "Well, there was quite a bit of, er, banter, and I mean she seemed really—"
"I dare not presume to know the workings of anyone's heart, including mine," said Dumbledore. Classic Dumbledore, thought Harry. "But she knows that I am unlikely to reciprocate any romantic affection or advance from her, as you heard her allude earlier." Harry nodded. Until Minerva had made the joke about "nearby men who'd be interested" in the new herbology professor, however, Harry had never given any thought to what Albus's romantic appetites might have been.
Then Harry voiced to his old mentor what he'd only ever articulated out loud to Luna. "I divorced my wife for the same reason," he said quietly. Harry still hadn't quite gotten used to the fact that to Dumbledore he was still a stranger, and he'd probably been acting a little too familiar.
Harry looked up at Dumbledore, and was horrified when he saw his expression, which was something akin to fear. Harry cringed, but then Dumbledore spoke, slightly frantic.
"Oh dear! I must ask that you please don't tell Minerva— she has a penchant for teasing me about men, and she'll be wont to invent all sorts of things in her head about the two of us if she knows that you… It suffices to say neither of us will ever hear the end of it." Harry relaxed and laughed in relief. "You heard the way she talked about me and Mr. Bloom," Dumbledore finished.
"Albus! Keep your mitts off that new boy! He's too young for you!" said Harry in a high Scottish accent. It was a remarkably good imitation of Minerva.
"I do feel sorry for Mr. Bloom. He will have no idea what that is all about," said Dumbledore smiling sheepishly.
Harry and Dumbledore laughed. Harry let go of the tension that had built up in his body a moment earlier, irrationally worrying that he was going to meet scorn the first time he ever came out.
"So what do you think of the room, Harry?" asked Dumbledore. His tone was more informal and friendly than it had been not five minutes before.
Harry actually looked around at the room for the first time. It wasn't anything like he'd remembered. There were no musty curtains blocking out all the light. There were no armchairs nor poufs, and no teacups. There were many more windows than Harry remembered; Harry suspected that it was Professor Trelawney who had covered most of them up with curtains. Similarly, the roof sloped up to a point, while Harry remembered there being oppressive curtains hanging from the ceiling. The room felt airy, and the fireplace was empty. The room itself was round. The trapdoor lay at the very center. Harry imagined setting it up just like his flat in London with all of his soul object shelves around the outside.
"It's perfect," he told Dumbledore. "When can I move in?"
"As soon as you are able," said Dumbledore.
"Excellent," said Harry. In his exuberation at finding such an ideal place to live, he forgot himself slightly. He began filling the room with the objects from his flat, transporting them directly. Around the room appeared the six shelves for his soul objects, and a shelf with the random objects that had come in the crystal with him. Last, he conjured a large wardrobe and put all of his robes inside it.
"There, done," said Harry.
"Not quite," said Dumbledore, hiding any wonder and surprise he may have had. He conjured a glorious king sized four poster bed topped with a canopy of dark purple. The pillows and comforter were lilac colored silk. "I do hope you like purple." His beard twitched into a smile.
"What are these?" Dumbledore asked, walking over to the box of sweets. Harry inspected the sweets, looking at them closely for the first time in the year he'd carried them. They were lemon drops. He laughed out loud. Dumbledore looked at him curiously.
"Help yourself," said Harry. "Have as many as you want. Maybe I should keep some in my office..."
"And speaking of your office, shall we go look for one for you?"
"Absolutely," said Harry.
They both dropped nimbly out of the trap door without aid of the ladder, and landed safely with the aid of magic. Harry banished the ladder and shut the trapdoor. He didn't bother adding any protective enchantments. Hogwarts was the safest place in the world, and Harry thought a locked trap door with no ladder would deter any unwanted visitors for the moment.
"Do you have any idea where you would like your office, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.
"Well," said Harry, trying not to give away his knowledge of the castle, "I would like to have it attached to my classroom, if that is possible."
"There is only one classroom like that, and none of the other teachers have claimed it. Would you like to take a look?"
"Yeah!" said Harry.
They descended many staircases, and eventually came to the second floor. They stopped outside the office that Harry knew would, in his day, belong to a slew of teachers, all with very different decorating preferences. Dumbledore opened the door.
"After you, Harry," he said. Harry was reminded fleetingly of their excursions into the pensive.
The room was bare. Only a plain looking desk and a rectangular wardrobe occupied it. On the other end of the room was a door that Harry knew led onto a staircase that descended into the first floor classroom. He crossed the room and opened the door. He stepped onto the balcony over the classroom, and looked out, trying to imagine how he would decorate it.
"Will this be suitable?" asked Dumbledore.
"Exactly what I imagined," said Harry truthfully. "I'm only trying to decide what to put in it. It seems so plain." They stepped back into Harry's new office.
"I would offer advice, but as I have already imposed my style on your bedchamber, I shall refrain," said Dumbledore.
"No, er," said Harry, remembering the gigantic purple bed and hesitating just long enough to be doubted, "It's lovely, really."
Dumbledore gave Harry a knowing smile. Harry wasn't sure what it was that Dumbledore knew, but he knew something. Harry was still trying to work it out when Dumbledore spoke.
"And now, Harry, I have taken up too much of your time. I will allow you to become acclimated to your new space on your own. You are welcome to stay here tonight, if that is your wish, as it seems that you have already transported many of your belongings here. Dinner is served at seven. I will be eating in the Great Hall at that time, and I would be delighted to continue our conversation, if you choose to join me."
"Thank you," said Harry, "I'll be there."
"Excellent," said Dumbledore, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.
The air between their faces burst into flame, and when it cleared, Fawkes was standing on Dumbledore's hand which was on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt the familiar swell of confusing emotion radiating from Fawkes, through Dumbledore's hand, and into himself. Blue eyes met green for an instant, and Dumbledore's lips parted questioningly.
And then the moment passed, and Harry wasn't sure what had happened or even if it had happened at all. Dumbledore pulled his hand out from under Fawkes, said goodbye to Harry, and swept out of the office.