Harry had been in Hogwarts only a handful of times since he was a student. He'd gone back for Ginny's graduation, and had visited Hagrid once or twice, but otherwise, he had little need to go back to the school. But it was good to be back, he thought, taking the familiar route to Dumbledore's old office, now McGonagall's. He tried not to think too much about what it would be like if he got this job. He'd live here all the time. Hogwarts really would be his home.

He'd hemmed and hawed over whether or not to tell Ron and Hermione about the interview. He knew Ron would be frustrated and disappointed if he left the Aurors, but he also knew now that Ron and Hermione would support him through anything. In the end, he hadn't told them because he'd grown more and more excited about the prospect of getting the job, and he didn't want to have to endure the disappointment of telling them he was going for an interview just in case it didn't pan out.

The one person he did want to tell, regardless of whether or not he got the job, was Malfoy, but that, he thought with a dull pang of sadness, wasn't an option right now.

"Come in, Mr. Potter," McGonagall called when he reached the doorway, and he entered the office, his palms sweaty. The room was similar to how it had been when Dumbledore occupied it, though it was rather more austere now, with significantly fewer odd looking instruments. The missing presence of Fawkes, too, left the room feeling rather bereft. But Professor McGonagall looked the same as ever, her hair pulled back into a severe and unforgiving bun at the back of her neck.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said uncomfortably. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Have a seat, Potter." She smiled warmly at him. "And do stop looking at me as though I'm going to take away house points. You're here for an interview, not a detention."

Harry laughed in spite of himself and sat down opposite her. "Thank you," he said again.

"My pleasure," she responded. "I know that I am the one who invited you here, Potter, but I must say, I'm rather surprised you've come. You've nearly finished with Auror training, haven't you?"

"Yes," he said. On the way there, he'd gone back and forth over how much to tell her. "But I don't think that being an Auror is for me, after all, Professor. I-I don't actually like fighting the Dark Arts. During the war, well, I think I only did it because I had too. I don't want to do it forever." He'd said it all in a rush, and once he finished, he looked up at her apologetically. She'd been so encouraging of him becoming an Auror when he was in school, and now he was about to throw it all away.

"I see." McGonagall considered him for a long moment, and he wiped his palms nervously on his trousers. "All right, Potter," she said at last. "I understand. Now, tell me why you'd like to be a flying instructor."

Harry took a deep breath, and began to talk. He told McGonagall about flying with Teddy, how he'd bought the boy his first broom and helped him learn to ride. He told her how much he'd loved learning himself; how it had been the first thing, besides Hedwig, that made him feel like a wizard, and he told her how he'd like to help other children feel the same way. And finally, he told her about Dumbledore's Army, and how, in his fifth year at Hogwarts, he'd laid awake at night thinking of ways to teach the spells in new ways, to make them easier for his fellow students to understand.

"I know I might not be your most experienced candidate," he said at last. "But I think I could be good at it, if you can give me a chance."

McGonagall smiled at him. "I must say, Potter, I've never heard you speak of anything with more joy or passion than I've heard you speak about this."

Harry smiled, embarrassed. "I thought I wanted to be an Auror," he said. "But ever since I got your letter, all I can think about is how much more I want this."

McGonagall tapped her quill on her desk, considering him carefully. Harry fought the urge to squirm like a first year under her gaze. "Well then, Potter," she said after a moment. "If you want it, the job is yours."

"Really?" Harry stared at her. "Just like that?"

"Yes, Potter," she said with a smile. "As soon as I heard you were interested, I knew you'd be a perfect fit for the job. But I had to hear that you wanted it, and now I know that you do."

"Wow," Harry breathed. Ron was going to be furious, he thought. Hermione would think he was having some sort of quarter life crisis. And Malfoy-well, Harry might not get to know what he would think. But he had to stop making choices based on what he thought other people expected him to do.

"I'll take it," he said quickly, a thrill running down his spine for the first time in weeks.

"Then welcome back to Hogwarts, Potter," McGonagall said with a smile. "Goodness, I suppose I must get used to saying Harry now. And you must call me Minerva. We are colleagues now."

"I—I don't think I can do that," Harry said with a nervous laugh.

"Perhaps with time," she said kindly. "Now, the details." For the next half hour, they discussed the position: he'd move to Hogwarts in the summer—he could scarcely believe it—and begin teaching in the fall. Which meant he'd have a few weeks of freedom once he quit the Aurors. The first thing he was going to do, he thought, was sleep.

By the time Harry stood up to leave, his face hurt from smiling, and he couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione what had happened.

"I'll see you in a couple months, Professor," he said once he'd finally gotten up to leave.

"Excellent," McGonagall agreed. "Oh, and Harry? Do say hello to Mr. Malfoy for me. It was a pleasure to see him last month."

Harry nearly dropped his case in surprise. "What do you—when—why do you think I'd see him?" he stammered.

"Oh, I'd just assumed," she said, looking rather oddly at him. "He was meeting with Poppy on business—potions, you know—and stopped by to tell me he thought you'd be an excellent fit for the position. He talked about you so much that I assumed you must be friends? But forgive me if that is not the case."

Harry stared at her, his mouth suddenly feeling quite dry. "Malf—Draco—talked about me ?"

"Yes," she said, furrowing her brow. "He told me how glad he was that you'd reconnected as adults, and said that you've been a wonderful flying teacher for young Mr. Lupin. He clearly thinks quite highly of you, Potter—excuse me, Harry ." She smiled warmly at him. "Do say hello, if you see him. I've never heard him speak so fondly of anyone. It was quite disarming."

"Yes," Harry said, his heart suddenly leaping in his chest. "I will. Thanks again, Professor McGonagall."

Harry took the stairs two by two on his way out of the castle. He'd Floo over to Ron and Hermione tomorrow, he thought as he made his way to the edge of Hogwarts' grounds. First, he needed to find Malfoy.