Disclaimer: Please don't sue me.

Chapter 3.

Harry felt very satisfied as he walked out of white marble building and decided to treat himself to an ice-cream, even though it was twenty times the normal price. His mood only improved when, after he had settled himself at a small white table and was happily eating a ball of chocolate fudge, he picked up an old newspaper that a previous customer had left behind. Amid the articles declaring the appointment of Bartholomew Backwater as the new Head of the Department of Security (describing in gruesome detail the violent fate suffered by the previous Head at the wands of Deatheaters) and a whole page dedicated to the wonders of the Child of Prophecy, Harry's attention was caught by a small notice in the jobs section.

'Wanted:

Divination Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please contact Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall for interview.'

That was all, but it was enough for Harry.

Over the two weeks Harry had spent in this new world, he had slowly begun to admit to himself that he would not be able to simply leave and abandon Britain to Voldemort. This world's Dark Lord might not be the one whom Harry had fought against all his life, but he was equally ruthless and evil. When Harry read of an attack on a muggle orphanage the week before, killing over seventy children; or of the widespread poverty and hunger caused by the wilful destruction of the wizarding economy, he felt the familiar emotions of anger and hate directed at Voldemort, whether in the new world or the old. And, even though the people in this world had been shaped by a different past, Harry could not treat them as complete strangers. So long as his friends' counterparts lived in this world, Harry knew he could not allow them to fight and die without attempting to help them.

Not only was Harry reluctant to leave this world, but he increasingly wondered if it was even possible. If magic or God or some other deciding force had brought him here, then it was probably for a purpose. Due to the prophecy, Harry was familiar with the idea of fate or destiny deciding his future and knew that it would be futile to try and avoid it, no matter how unfair. Trelawney's prophecy had spoken of either Neville or himself, but due to Harry's scar it was understood that he was the Chosen One. Now even in this world Harry was the only one who was marked by Voldemort.

It was unavoidable; Harry would have to involve himself in this war. He was a complete stranger though, and the Order of the Phoenix would no doubt be reluctant to admit him without some reassurance that he knew how to fight, and was not a potential spy. Applying for the position of Divination Professor was a perfect way to get into contact with Dumbledore and to slowly prove himself trustworthy. It was also a legitimate method of entering the castle, allowing him to begin researching a way of getting home. Even if he had to wait until after Voldemort was once again defeated, Harry was still determined to return home someday.

He was fixed in his decision. He would be the new Professor of his most dreaded subject. How wonderful.

'I must be insane to even consider this,' muttered Harry to himself, moodily poking at his sundae. 'Divination of all things! This is going to take a lot of preparation."

The first thing Harry did was contact the Department of Education and request a NEWT examination. Many records had been lost during the frequent attacks on the Ministry, so no one would know that he was not a registered resident of Britain, and didn't actually exist. Harry had never taken his Newts, or even finished Hogwarts, so he wondered what the exams would be like. He had a clear advantage, though, as he had been intensively trained by aurors and order members ever since he finished sixth year. Two years under Mad-Eye Moody would be enough for anybody to gain both magical skills and a healthy paranoia.

After going through the many elaborate security measures - including an aura-recognition scan and, surprisingly, muggle fingerprinting - Harry finally entered the main Ministry building and was met by Examiner Marchbanks.

"Ah, hello young man," the old wizard wheezed. "You are, I presume, Hadrian Morrigan."

"That's me," agreed Harry, inwardly smiling at his new name. He was too attached to his real name to change it much, but hearing Morrigan instead of Potter was still strange.

"Good, good, if you will follow me, I will lead you to my office where the exams will take place."

Harry had chosen to be tested in Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Muggle Studies, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy and, of course, Divination. Many more than the average, which was five, but Harry felt that none of it would be too difficult. He had studied Ancient Runes as part of his training in order to learn Rune Magic, and he felt reasonably confident in that and Care of Magical Creatures. Muggle Studies would be a doddle.

"Right," started Professor Marchbanks. "I will issue you with the exam sheets and a standard anti-cheating exam Quill. Today you will do the theory papers, tomorrow the practical. You have two hours for each subject, you may start."

Picking up the quill, Harry read the first question - Describe the clothing normally worn by a male muggle – and, grinning, started to write.

Hours later, his arm cramped up and his back aching, Harry relaxed in bed.

"Give me Voldemort over exams any day," he moaned, feeling very sorry for himself. It was just so boring, though at least he didn't have to do a History test.

"Thank Merlin for that," murmured Harry, before drifting off to sleep.

The next day, after a hastily gobbled breakfast, Harry arrived to do his practical tests. He was greeted this time by a wrinkled old woman who introduced herself as Professor Tufty.

"Well, let's start with Charms first, eh?" she said enthusiastically. "No need to be nervous."

"I'm not," smiled Harry.

"Good good, then cast the Protean Charm on this quill, wordlessly if you can."

Harry did so.

"Uh, dear? I meant with a wand."

Harry had debated whether he should use a fake wand or even buy a new one for the exams, but had decided in the end to perform everything wandlessly as he had done for the past few years. If he was to fight effectively in the war, then his allies would have to be aware of his power-levels and not treat him like a child. Even in his old world it had taken years before Mrs Weasley had accepted Ron and Harry joining the order, insisting that they were too young. If the entire order felt that way, then Harry would never be able to get anything done. Hopefully the news of him being able to perform wandless spells would spread, allowing Harry to appear as a powerful wizard rather than a teenager.

After a couple of minutes of confusion while Harry explained to the examiner that this was his usual method of casting, they finally continued, Harry still performing everything wandlessly.

Five spells later, Professor Tufty interrupted him.

"Well, you seem very able, so why don't we make this more interesting, hmm?"

Harry looked at her warily. 'Interesting' for him meant running through a forest unarmed with a horde of Deatheaters on his tail. He was greatly relieved when he heard her idea.

"I can't be bothered to go through the whole syllabus, so I will give you free reign to cast a few of the most complex spells you know, and you will be marked accordingly. How about that?" She looked at him hopefully.

"Is that a valid way of marking?" asked Harry doubtfully.

"Not really," she shrugged, "but the whole Ministry is in complete chaos, and no one even pretends to follow the rules anymore."

"Ok, fair enough," grinned Harry, and started casting.

He charmed the ceiling to mirror the sky, like in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. He successfully used the Fidelius Charm to conceal the whole room, he conjured up silver, and he cast a protective ward so strong that no conventional spells could penetrate it. The list went on, and that was just charms.

A patronus, an immaculate self-transfiguration, and conjuring eternal flame left Harry satisfied that he had proved his skill, and Professor Tufty delighted.

"Oh, well done, old chap. Bravo! Never seen such spell work, even Dumbledore would…and all with only a small hand movement…brilliant! Simply brilliant!"

"Thanks," said Harry with a pleased grin.

"We have one hour before your next exam starts," said the examiner with a glance at the clock on the wall. "How about a duel with an Auror, hmm? It would tie everything together, and would help you know what level you are on. You have a unique spell casting method, which I'm sure they would be interested in studying."

"Oh no, I couldn't," said Harry sincerely. He was sure the aurors in this world would be even more ruthless than what he was used to.

"Nonsense!"

Fifteen minutes later Harry was facing Auror Arabella Figg, a war veteran with a rather nasty smirk on her face. While Harry was nervous, having duelled and lost painfully to her many times before, he was also pleased with the situation. The examiner had informed Auror Figg that he did not need a wand, and since she was an Order member, Harry was willing to bet Dumbledore would find out in the space of, oh, sixty seconds? Knowing Dumbledore as he did, he was sure the Headmaster would want to keep him under his surveillance. Harry was almost guaranteed a job at Hogwarts now.

He would just stick to known spells, Harry decided, so that in later fights his opponents would not know the true extent of his skills. The outcome of a duel did not depend solely on the amount of spells known. Speed and agility were much more important, so Harry could win the duel without using complex spells which might not even have been created in this world.

The two opponents faced each other, each appearing very confident.

"Begin," came Tufty's chirpy voice.

Harry promptly turned invisible, cast a silencing spell on his feet and shot three stunners at the opposing witch before a normal person could blink. Arabella Figg, however, was not normal, and managed to block the incoming curses and shoot two in return.

Deciding it took too much of his concentration to remain invisible, Harry reappeared and with a flick of his wrist shot ten curses simultaneously at his opponent. Chain casting was a very useful skill that had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Spells flew across the room so fast that it was as if a constant stream of light was flowing from the two duellers. But the Auror soon became frustrated. She was giving it her all, but no matter what curse she used the boy had already cast a shield or counter curse. Was she that predictable?

Harry stood motionless in the centre of the room as the Auror dodged the hundreds of incoming spells, a smirk on his face. It was an unfair duel, since Harry had had many occasions to study Figg's fighting technique, whereas she had no way of predicting his actions. Harry considered it just revenge for all the times the Auror had hit him with particularly nasty spells when he was training back in his old world.

'This is actually kind of fun,' reflected Harry, using a particularly fancy charm to create a wall of fire around Arabella Figg.

Normally when he duelled death was always imminent, and Avada Kedavra curses were thrown around like cheering charms. Now he was having a friendly duel and was enjoying the challenge of wiping the previously smug expression off the Auror's face.

Pointing his hand at her feet, Harry caused a chasm to open in front of her and a tornado to spring up. Unable to banish it, she had to resort to weighing herself down, looking incredibly battered and frustrated.

"Intorqeo!" she yelled, causing a twisting curse to fly towards Harry, who had mere seconds before put up the necessary shield.

"Spiculum."

"Inasnum."

"Trunco!"

Finally, spotting an opening in her defences, Harry threw a concentrated ball of raw magic at his opponent. It hit her in the stomach, causing her to slam into the wall behind her and collapse unconscious.

With a wave of his hand she awoke, looking thoroughly disorientated.

"So, how did I do?" asked Harry, looking at Professor Tufty.

The examiner stared in shock for a few moments before gasping out,

"Amazing! Excellent technique… and so young… Truly remarkable!"

Harry's grin quickly disappeared once he started his Astronomy exam. Trying to remember how many moons orbited Saturn and endeavouring not to mess up on his labelling of star constellations took all his concentration. Harry had always preferred practical magic; learning facts off by heart had never been his strong point. The exam went tolerably well, as did Care of Magical Creatures, which was next, but his confidence faltered once he began his Potions exam.

He had to brew Felix Felicis during its last stages, and one wrong movement could result in a colossal explosion. Once he'd safely finished, Harry thanked Chance for giving him the Prince's old potions book. Sure it was Snape who wrote it, but it had taught Harry more than all his lessons put together. He'd never be a natural at potions, but he was at least fairly competent.

Harry's last, and most important, test was Divination. He was tested by Professor Marchbanks, and it was the only subject where Harry severely lacked the necessary talent. However, he might not be a Seer, but he was a near equivalent.

"Now, Lord Morrigan, gaze into the crystal ball and tell me what you see," wheezed the ancient examiner, his chair creaking slightly as he leaned forwards.

"Um." Harry hastily opened his senses, letting his magic explore his surroundings. It was difficult to read strangers, and even harder to see the future of someone other than himself. Luckily, with Marchbanks sitting so close by Harry managed to at least read his past. After a few minutes concentration, images began to flash through his head. What he saw shocked him. "You are troubled," he said simply. "You have received a letter from the Dark Lord; join him or die. You will not join."

"No, I will not," sighed Professor Marchbanks. "Very impressive, but tell me, do you see death?"

'How am I supposed to answer that,' wondered Harry. He rarely managed to see clearly into the future, and the future of someone he had no emotional connection to was even harder to see clearly.

He slowly stretched his magic to its furthest point, attempting to distance himself from the dimension of time. To his great surprise the fog in the crystal ball cleared and he caught glimpses of a dark room, blood and a feeling of pain, followed by a blurred image of Saint Mungo's.

"You will be attacked," said Harry hoarsely. "You will be injured, but you will survive."

"Why thank you, my boy," beamed the small man in relief.

"Oh, and in a few seconds a Ministry worker will burst in and say you are needed for an emergency," added Harry, his senses catching footsteps coming down the hall. "Apparently some wizard has forged his NEWT results, but because all the files were destroyed by deatheaters they can't prove it."

"What a mess," groaned the examiner. There was a knock at the door. "Come in!"

"Professor Marchbanks?" said a harassed ministry official. "You're needed upstairs immediately."

"Coming, coming," sighed Tufty, getting shakily to his feet. "It was a pleasure testing you," he said to Harry. "You marks should arrive tomorrow, Wednesday at the latest."

"Thank you," replied Harry with a slightly dazed grin.

'How the hell did I manage that,' wondered Harry for the hundredth time. He was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron drinking home-brewed Firewhisky in an attempt to calm himself. He'd seen into the future! How? He'd done it before, but only little things, and mostly only a few minutes in advance, maximum. Enough to know what spells someone would use in a duel, or what someone would say next, but nothing more. That was as far as his magic stretched, and even then it involved a lot of guesswork. Normally he only tried to read the past.

But this time….Professor Marchbank's near-death was days if not weeks in the future, Harry knew, but he'd managed to see clear images. How? He wasn't a true Seer, but only someone with the Sight should be able to predict the future so far ahead.

'Maybe…maybe it's because of this alternate world thing,' thought Harry. 'This isn't my reality, and I'm even in the wrong time line, so it probably has had an effect on me. In fact, it might be that because I've technically already lived through this time, I can predict it. I shouldn't even exist right now; I should really only arrive in four years time, but…. Urgh, forget it! Everything is messed up, this is no exception. My life never makes sense, so it's only when things are rational that I should start worrying."

Feeling much more relaxed after that thought, Harry drained his Firewhisky. Time to plan.