Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing is mine.
Chapter 5.
"Good evening, I apologise for keeping you waiting."
"Not at all," replied Harry politely. He had contacted the school and inquired after the vacant position, and thus found himself in the Hogs Head, ready for an interview with Professor Dumbledore.
"I am Albus Dumbledore, and you are?"
"Hadrian Morrigan," smiled Harry, shaking the proffered hand, though Harry noticed it was the left, not right one. The horcruxes apparently existed in this world as well.
"I have reserved a private room; it will be more comfortable," said Dumbledore benignly, gesturing up a small staircase.
Once they were both seated at a table in a small, badly lit room, the headmaster smiled happily.
"Sherbet Lemon?"
"No thank you," answered Harry, inwardly smiling fondly. "I prefer mints."
"Very well," twinkled the old man. "Now, then, may I see your Newt results?"
Harry handed him the required parchment on which his scores were written.
Subject:Result:
Defence against the Dark ArtsOutstanding
TransfigurationOutstanding
CharmsOutstanding
PotionsAcceptable
Ancient RunesExceeds Expectations
AstronomyExceeds Expectations
Muggle StudiesOutstanding
DivinationOutstanding
Care of Magical CreaturesExceeds Expectations
Total: 14 Newts.
Harry studied the man in front of him as he read over the marks. This was the first person Harry had met who he knew very well, and it was eerie looking at his beloved mentor's counterpart. At first he could see only the similarities; the twinkling eyes, the obsession with muggle sweets, even the same blackened right hand. But other things stood out, such as this Dumbledore's tired air and more suspicious glance. Thirteen extra years of war had taken their toll, just as they had on almost everyone Harry had seen so far.
"Well, this is very impressive, I must say," beamed Dumbledore. "Such results, especially in such a wide range of subjects, are rare indeed."
"Thank you," said Harry politely, sipping at his butterbeer.
"May I ask how old you are?" was Dumbledore's next question.
"Nineteen," replied Harry shortly, setting down his glass on the rough wooden table between them.
"Well, your results are favourable," Dumbledore admitted, "but I admit that I am concerned over your young age and lack of experience."
"It would be a large obstacle for teachers of other subjects," answered Harry calmly, "but Divination is, I hope you'll agree, an instinctual rather than scientific subject. Either you are a Seer or you are not; no amount of practise will change that."
"And are you a true Seer?" asked Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow.
"I see you are slightly sceptical," smiled Harry. "Allow me to demonstrate."
"Of course," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "I confess myself quite excited."
"Please hold out your hand, your right one," instructed Harry. Dumbledore obliged.
"If you're hoping to read my life line I would suggest using the other one," he smiled as he held out his burnt limb.
"This is sufficient," said Harry vaguely as he studied it. He had never had the opportunity to look closely at his Dumbledore's hand, mainly because he had considered it rude. The wound was magically powerful, Harry could see, and must be quite painful.
"You got this destroying a soul," Harry said simply, and watched with satisfaction as Dumbledore gave an almost imperceptible start. Managing to surprise the omniscient wizard was a private hobby of his.
"One of seven," Harry continued, trying to sound suitably mystic. "The ultimate evil."
"Remarkable," said the headmaster lightly, but he was staring at Harry with a penetrating gaze. "Remarkable," he repeated.
"Thank you," said Harry graciously, leaning back in his chair.
"Well, such skill most definitely balances out any lack of teaching experience," said Dumbledore at last, his customary twinkle in his eyes. "May I offer you my sincere congratulations; you are now the youngest teacher Hogwarts has had in centuries."
'Well, that wasn't too difficult,' thought Harry, as he ate dinner back at the Leaky Cauldron. 'Cheat and lie and you get a job. There weren't even any annoyingly private question that I would not have been able to answer satisfactorily. Pretty good all round, now I just have to survive teaching."
Harry spent the next three weeks clothes shopping, buying a few personal items that he required and that were available in the now shabby and sparse shops, and desperately thinking up lesson plans. The third, fourth and fifth years wouldn't be too problematic, as at least Harry had learnt that himself, but he had no clue what the sixth and seventh year classes were normally taught.
It was because his mind was occupied with what to teach that he at first didn't notice the disturbance outside Flourish and Blotts. He was almost past the bookshop before the angry voices registered.
"How dare you enter my shop! How dare you come anywhere near here!"
"Animals like you need to be put down," hissed an onlooker, drawing his wand. There were shouts of agreement from the growing crowd.
Moving closer, Harry saw a thin and unhealthy looking man in the centre of the onlookers. His hands were clenched, but he made no move to defend himself, even when the shop assistant shot a cutting curse at him.
"Your kind are worth dirt, werewolf," shouted someone from the back of the crowd.
"Look, all I want is to buy a book, I have money…" tried the man, his arm bleeding freely from where the curse had struck.
"Stolen, no doubt," said the assistant snidely. "I should call the ministry," he added virtuously.
"No!" the injured man shouted almost involuntarily.
"It's my duty to report dark creatures like you," said the assistant self-righteously. "Or maybe I should get rid of you altogether before you go running back to your master, You-Know-Who."
A few more members of the throng drew their wands, bloodthirsty glints in their eyes.
Not seeing any Aurors on the scene, Harry decided he'd have to step in. Quickly transfiguring his robes into more official looking clothes, he pushed forwards.
"No violence allowed! How dare you draw your wand on this street!" yelled Harry over the heads of the gathered witches and wizards. They turned, startled, instinctively lowering their wands at his officious tone.
"But sir, it's just a werewolf," said the assistant with a deprecating gesture towards his victim.
"Yes, and this is a shopping street. There are children here!" snapped Harry, using his most arrogant and bureaucratic voice. He turned to the rest. "Move along! There's nothing to see." Not wanting to get into any trouble, the spectators quickly began to disperse.
"But sir-"
"That is all," glared Harry at the protesting shop assistant. "I will deal with the situation from here on. You may go."
Intimidated by Harry's glare, the man turned, still grumbling, and re-entered the bookstore.
Harry sighed, immediately dropping his commanding attitude, and turned to the accused werewolf, who was futilely attempting to stem the flow of blood from his wound. It must have been deep if a werewolf's natural healing powers were ineffective.
"Here," said Harry, and muttered a gentle healing spell.
The man looked up in surprise before muttering a hoarse "thanks."
"Welcome," smiled Harry. "What book did you wish to buy, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Any book on wards."
"Wait one sec and I'll get it." Without waiting for an answer Harry entered Flourish and Blotts and bought a copy of Vincent Macabre's 'Wards and Warding', glaring at the shop assistant the entire time.
Stepping back out onto the street, Harry was a bit surprised to see the werewolf had actually listened to him and was still there, but smiled cheerfully.
"Here you go," he said, offering him the package.
"Thank you," the man said again, before taking out some gold coins. "How much?"
"Two galleons, three sickles," replied Harry, accepting the money.
The other man hesitated slightly, then quickly said, "My name's Rave."
"Hadrian," grinned Harry, then turned to leave. "It was nice meeting you," he called over his shoulder.
"Likewise," muttered Rave, before heading in the opposite direction.
For the next few hours Harry pondered over what he had seen. In his old world, dark creatures had been feared and hated, but not to such a drastic extent. Here, ordinary witches and wizards were prepared to kill and no one seemed to disagree with the prevailing sentiment. No wonder Voldemort was winning. Beings like Werewolves and Vampires were probably desperate to join him. Harry knew that he had to do something to solve the problem, but he'd never been particularly good at situations that involved a lot of patience. He realised that he would have to start small, slowly re-integrating Dark beings into society, but didn't have much of an idea as to how. It was as he was on his way to Gringotts that he was hit by a brain wave, making him smile with satisfaction as he passed through the imposing doors of the bank.
Harry hadn't scheduled an appointment with his new financial advisor, but nevertheless was soon ushered into a comfortable and moderately large office. The walls were covered in goblin art and weaponry, and comfortable looking furniture littered the room. Harry's magic was humming happily inside him from the spells woven throughout the building.
"Greetings. May Gold grow from your labour," said Harry with a bow.
"May your labour yield you Gold," intoned the goblin in reply.
Once introductions were concluded, they both sat down on either side of the desk.
"Before I come to the main reason for my visit, I would just like to ask if there have been any unforeseen developments in accordance to my Estates."
"I have yet to completely put everything in order; I must first fully acquaint myself with your finances, but as of yet everything has been regular, sir," replied the goblin promptly, but did nothing to hide the expression sneering boredom on his face.
"Thank you, Smicklehook," nodded Harry. "Now, as to my primary design in scheduling this meeting, I wish to establish a charity foundation."
The goblin's eyes widened slightly, and he sat up a little straighter. Rich wizards were not known to be philanthropic.
"What would this foundation be in aid of, sir?" he inquired, his voice losing its bored tone.
"As I understand it, the Ministry of Magic has passed many laws limiting the freedom of many magical beings," started Harry.
"Yes, that is so," agreed Smicklehook, with some bitterness.
"Well, I wish to establish a Foundation for the Protection, Education and Employment of Werewolves. I would also like to set up a number of safe houses throughout the country to help improve the situation of Werewolves in our community," revealed Harry, as Smicklehook began jotting down a few notes. "These houses are to be spacious and well-equipped. Numerous bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen, living area, etc. In the cellar, secure cells should be built in order to provide a safe place for them to transform. I want to employ a potions master and medi-witch to heal any injuries incurred and to brew the Wolfsbane potion which will be unreservedly distributed. To start with, though, only one safe house should be built as a trial."
"And the costs?" asked Smicklehook, still scribbling.
"Everything should be completely free of charge," Harry said immediately. "Wolfsbane potion and necessities such as food and clothing are to be available to any who ask for them. I want all expenses to be paid out of the Morrigan Family Vault."
"It will be expensive," ventured Smicklehook.
"Do you, as my financial advisor, believe that it is an unwise course of action?" asked Harry interestedly.
"No," said Smicklehook thoughtfully. "From interest alone you receive a yearly sum of over six hundred thousand galleons, which should amply cover all costs. Because of the ongoing war, labour is cheap."
"Good," smiled Harry, satisfied.
"How is one to gain admittance into such safe houses?" asked the Goblin, looking at Harry expectantly, a quill paused to take notes.
"The only requirement will be lycanthropy. No name, deposit or credentials will be needed. It is, however, to be made clear that violence will not be tolerated. Each safe house should have a caretaker, who will ensure that no aggression or crime takes place within the building. The usual unbreakable and anti-theft charms are to be cast, of course."
"Charms," muttered Smicklehook as he wrote. Then louder said, "I would make a rough estimate that it would take three weeks to get one of these safe houses up and running."
"No longer?" asked Harry surprised.
"People are desperate for work, and will therefore work hard," shrugged the Goblin in reply.
"That is good news, at least, but the problem of making the werewolf population aware of these houses is one I am not certain how to solve. What is your opinion on the subject?" asked Harry, languidly reclining in his comfy armchair.
"Well, posters and advertisements in newspapers could be used, but I doubt it will reach many, as magical beings are ostracised from wizarding society. Such news would most likely spread by word of mouth, but it would perhaps be sensible to write to the known werewolves or pack Alphas," Smicklehook advised.
"They would not take it as an affront?" said Harry cautiously.
"If they have any sense, then no, but they may be suspicious as to the reason behind such goodwill," replied the Goblin, shooting an inquisitive glance at his employer.
"Basically it's because the Ministry is made up of ineffectual morons," said Harry briskly, earning a slight smile from the otherwise surly advisor.
After ironing out a few more details, Harry stood up to leave.
"May Gold flow until our next meeting."
"May Gold flow," replied Smicklehook with a respectful bow.
Pleased with what he had accomplished, Harry left the bank.
A/N yeah, I know, not one of my best chapters, but the next one out should be better. Please review and tell me what you think, and what I should improve. And thank you so much to all the people who took the time to review my other chapters. I really appreciate it.
Oh, and about the OWL results. I couldn't remember how the marking system worked, so I just guessed. Sorry if I got it wrong.
Seulwolf: You'll just have to wait for an answer.
Founderschild1: Thanks for the lovely long review! Yeah, I know, often I'm not that pleased with how I start chapters, especially the first one. But I'm glad you liked the rest!
Purrbaby101: Yeah you're right. I checked the fic you mentioned, and it is the one that started me writing my own fic. Thanks for finding it and letting me know!