Disclaimer: I own everything, MUAHAHAHA! (If anyone decides to sue me for this, I'll plead my obvious insanity.)
A/N Important, people have complained about the name Hadi Morrigan. Apparently it's been used before. I got Morrigan from the title of a book, 'Hounds of the Morrigan', and I don't know what's so wrong about that, so I'm keeping it. I'll change Hadi to Hadrian though, which was the name of a roman emperor in the second century AD. That way I can call him Harry as a nickname. Important
Chapter 5.
"Lord Morrigan, I presume?" said the stern looking witch.
"Yes, and you must be Professor McGonagall," smiled Harry in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you." And it was, as she was the one person who seemed completely unchanged. The older witch, Harry could tell, was most disapproving of him, no doubt because he was a Divination teacher and also so young. Crisply, she instructed him to follow her.
Harry was quite nervous entering the castle. All the teachers returned two days early in order to prepare for their classes, so even the deserted corridors made him slightly uneasy. In his world he had known Dumbledore very well, and his counter-part was not so different as to prevent Harry from realising that he didn't trust the man who claimed to be Lord Morrigan.
Harry was by no means sure that he would be able to keep his secrets when living in such close quarters.
"Leave your bags here in the hall," instructed McGonagall stiffly. "The houselves will deal with them. I and the rest of the staff are eating lunch at present. Would you care to join us?"
"Yes, indeed," said Harry pleasantly. "I am rather hungry."
He followed the Transfiguration teacher into the great hall, which seemed even larger without hundreds of students milling about. Only the staff table was occupied. McGonagall made the necessary introductions.
"Everyone, this is the new divination Professor, Hadrian Morrigan. Professor Morrigan, these are the professors Filius Flitwick,"
"Charms," piped up the tiny wizard.
"Rebecca Pomphrey," continued Minerva.
"School nurse," stated a solemn woman who Harry guessed was in her late twenties. He wondered what had happened to Poppy Pomphrey, and what relation the new school nurse was to her.
"Elvira de Santigo."
"Survival Skills instructor," smiled a petite, dark haired woman next to Rebecca Pomphrey. Harry had neither heard of her nor the class before. He supposed that the long years of war forced the teachers to realise that they could not protect their students for ever. In Harry's old world the teachers had continued to teach the same syllabus of minor transfiguration, decorative charms and purely defensive spells in spite of Voldemort's return to power.
"Rubeus Hagrid,"
"Groundskeeper," the half-giant said gruffly. Harry was shocked to see his face badly scarred and his arm held at an odd angle, yet was happy to observe that his black eyes were still warm and friendly. As his first friend in the magical world, he had always had a soft spot for the half-giant.
McGonagall continued until she got to,
"Severus Snape. He's the substitute Potion's master," she added, obviously not trusting him to do anything but glare. "Professor Maven is currently unable to teach due to a deatheater attack. And Remus Lupin," she finished.
"Defence against the Dark Arts," said the brown haired man in a hoarse voice.
"Of course, not all the teachers have arrived yet," McGonagall informed him, sitting down next to the diminutive charms professor. "We are still missing our Muggle Studies professor, Andrew Hannigan, and our Healing Arts Mistress, Emma Grey."
"Hello everyone," grinned Harry, forcing himself not to beam stupidly in his parent's best friend and erstwhile teacher's direction. It was a relief to see him whole and well, and in fact looking much less tired and grey than Harry had ever seen him. In his world, Remus Lupin had died minutes before Voldemort himself. It puzzled him however, as to how Remus could find work at Hogwarts. Werewolves had been banned from holding any jobs in the public sector, or where they came into contact with anyone under the age of seventeen. How the lycanthrope managed to become a teacher under such restrictions was a mystery. Maybe only a select few knew of his affliction?
"How was your journey?" asked Pomona Sprout, making polite conversation.
"Oh, excellent," smiled Harry. "It wasn't far, just from London."
"Mmm, I had to travel all the way from Helsinki," said Sinistra, joining in. "I was doing some research on the stars in the northern hemisphere; fascinating work. The only problem was all those new travel regulations they've introduced. I was almost arrested at the border on the grounds of 'suspicious behaviour.'"
"Yes, they're extremely tedious aren't they," agreed Sprout. "I haven't been able to visit my sister in France for months. Between the dark lord and the Ministry everything is cut off."
"And each is as extreme as the other," said Elvira de Santigo in a soft Spanish accent. "Either you are killed or thrown in jail."
There was a sober silence, but Sprout determinedly moved to a lighter subject.
"Professor Morrigan," she said, turning to him, "You never attended Hogwarts yourself, did you?"
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "My entire family was in hiding. "
"Well, beware of the rivalry between Houses," she smiled, sending a sly glance to her fellow Head of Houses. "My Hufflepuffs are very well behaved, of course, but the most outrageous brawls regularly break out between Gryffindor and Slytherin."
Both Snape and McGonagall glared at her.
"The only reason your house does not get involved is because they are already occupied with cowering on the floor," Snape drawled acerbically.
"My Gryffindors are perfectly well behaved," snapped McGonagall, nostril's flaring. "They are merely upholding the honour of their house." The words, unlike your house that lets people walk all over them, were left unsaid, but nevertheless understood.
Sprout's smile only widened though, as Remus Lupin saw fit to point out that the two rivals were, in affect, agreeing with each other, which lead to both Snape and McGonagall quickly aiming their glares at each other instead.
"The enmity between the different houses has worsened over the years, reflecting the war outside," confided Sinistra to Harry, "It's inevitable, even though this is a school. You'll get used to it,"
"Have you been teaching long?" asked Harry civilly, though inwardly he was surprised at the level of hostility between the two older teachers. The war had obviously changed a lot.
"No-" started Sinistra, but was interrupted by Snape, who was intent on being as aggravating as possible in revenge for Sprout's comments.
"Surely, as a Seer you should be able to answer that question yourself," he sneered.
Harry sighed. Why did Snape hate him even under an assumed name and in an alternate universe?
"It is extremely difficult to See at will," Harry said, struggling to remain civil, though inwardly cringing at how like Trelawney he sounded. "It normally comes unbidden."
There was an uncomfortable silence which was only broken by Snape muttering "how convenient." Harry ignored him and instead turned to Hooch and engaged her in a conversation on Quidditch. By the end of lunch they were calling each other by their first names and Harry had promised to have a one-on-one Seeker match sometime that month. The other teachers chatted amongst themselves until Harry stood up.
"I'm going to unpack, see you all later."
Once he had left Remus said demurely,
"What's the betting he'll get lost and disappear for at least a week?"
"I didn't even tell him where his rooms are. He'll never make it to the North Tower!" said McGonagall, but she didn't seem too distressed at the fact.
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"Oh, this won't do at all," frowned Harry, gazing around his new class-room. It was dark and cluttered with chintz chairs and elaborate candelabra. The air was so thick with incense Harry had trouble breathing, and the colour scheme hurt his eyes.
"Well, I guess that answers the question as to who taught Divination up until now," he grinned. "No teacher apart from Trelawney would decorate quite this badly. Well, change is definitely needed."
Harry loved being back at Hogwarts. The castle was so old it thrummed with magic; it set Harry's skin tingling and made his magic soar. He grinned elatedly and raised a hand. "Oh, this will be fun."
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Contrary to everyone's expectations Harry turned up only a few hours after lunch looking refreshed and energetic, not having fallen victim to the numerous trap doors and moving staircases. The other teachers were settling down to a staff meeting, and Dumbledore was also present. Harry decided to take a seat next to Vera Hooch, not prepared to deal with someone like Snape on his first day.
"Welcome, everyone," said Dumbledore, beaming around the room. "I hope your holidays were satisfactory."
The professors muttered a few non-committal sentences.
"Well then!" he twinkled. "To business. This year we have a greater number of first years, so I want your input as to how to deal with the many students. Should we merely have larger classes, or should they have lessons only with their housemates?"
"Just their housemates," said Snape immediately. "I don't know why you always insist on making me teach my Slytherins and the dunderheaded Gryffindors together. It's preposterous!"
"I disagree," countered McGonagall primly, though Harry suspected she actually agreed with her colleague but refused to admit it. "Inter-house rivalries are very strong, and segregated classes will only enhance the animosity."
"Hear, hear," put in Sprout, and the other teachers nodded their agreement. Snape scowled.
"Very well," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "And on that note, does anyone have any ideas on promoting house unity?"
"Quidditch!" suggested Vera enthusiastically.
"We already have matches," pointed out Flitwick. "And they're a security risk."
"More Quidditch," she beamed. "Every year group can have its own team."
"Absolutely not," said Pomphrey firmly. "They already massacre each other as it is. If you get inexperienced flyers zooming around they're bound to crash."
"Hadrian, back me up on this," appealed Hooch.
"Uh," was Harry's inarticulate response to being put on the spot. "How about having informal matches from time to time? Or else extra-curricular activities like a Duelling club?" he hazarded.
"Veto," sneered Snape.
"But why, Severus," protested Flitwick, who Harry knew was once a duelling champion. "It will not only bring the students together, it will also teach them some vital skills."
Snape couldn't think up a sufficient response, so the others managed to agree on having a duelling club run by Flitwick and Remus Lupin.
"Excellent," nodded the Headmaster. "It will also help to lighten the atmosphere. As before, we will have to make sure to organise many events to keep the students occupied. Too many students have lost family members, and dwelling on the losses of the war is not healthy.
"Which leads me to a more sombre issue," continued Dumbledore. "Seven of our students have lost immediate family over the summer,-"
"Eight," said Harry immediately. "Since…two hours ago."
"Really?" sighed Dumbledore.
"Yes," replied Harry firmly, though he looked confused. "An Emily Parks? Ring any bells?" He glanced round at the other teachers, slightly uncertain.
"Oh, the poor dear," sniffed Sprout. "She's such a sweet girl."
"She's a complete idiot," drawled Snape.
"Professor Snape! Show some compassion," admonished McGonagall coldly.
"Well I would, Professor McGonagall, if I thought she actually had suffered." Snape shot a sneer at Harry, who returned it with a glare, though inwardly noting the formal way the two teachers addressed each other. Professor Snape, not Severus. In his world, the two Heads of Houses were friendly rivals, here they seemed to actively dislike each other.
"Enough," commanded Dumbledore. "We will find out soon enough. The point is that we must make allowances for these students and offer them our support."
"Of course, Headmaster," said Vector. "But will their remaining families allow them to return?"
"Yes, they will," responded Dumbledore and Harry was again struck by how old he looked. "After all, Hogwarts is the safest place left."
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Again, what the hell happened? Where had that knowledge of Emily Parks come from? Normally he never knew information like that without manipulating his magic first. Was he losing control? But technically the whole thing should have been impossible, as Harry had not been near the girl or anyone connected to the attack, and therefore had no subject to extract the information from.
'If I keep coming out with random statements like that, I'm going to become seriously disturbed," thought Harry. 'Well, at least any odd behaviour will be attributed to me being a Seer,' Harry comforted himself. 'I should look on the bright side. The teachers may hate me and I may be stuck in a job I'm not qualified for, but at least if I mess up and reveal something that a stranger shouldn't know, I can just say I Saw it. And, hey, I can't be worse that Trelawney.'
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Harry's last day of freedom before the students arrived was mostly spent flicking feverishly through Divination textbooks and deciding that it was all complete rubbish. Venus being close to Mars did not mean you would break up with your boyfriend or girlfriend, Harry was certain of that. Firenze had taught them well. Who thought up all that drivel?
Sighing, Harry made his way to Dumbledore's office. He had to do something about this.
"Sugar Quill," muttered Harry after testing the magic surrounding the gargoyle guarding the entrance, and stepped onto the revolving staircase. Before he could knock, however, a voice called out,
"Come in, Professor Morrigan."
'How does he always do that?" wondered Harry. He had never managed to work it out in his old world.
"Good evening, Headmaster," greeted Harry politely. "I was wondering if I could speak with you for a few minutes."
"Of course, my boy, please take a seat," replied Dumbledore readily, while the portraits of former headmaster and headmistresses peered suspiciously down at the new teacher. Dumbledore's office had not changed much, Harry noticed. It was still full of strange devices that Harry couldn't figure out the purpose of, but Fawkes was missing from his usual perch.
"What can I do for you?" prompted the headmaster, steepling his fingers.
"I was wondering if I could change the lesson plans for some of my classes," said Harry.
"Oh, what part?" asked Dumbledore, his gaze sharpening.
"I wish to make it slightly more practical, but no major changes," Harry lied smoothly, trying to appear calm and unconcerned. In this world he had the advantage of knowing the Headmaster, while Dumbledore knew nothing of him. Hopefully he would not pick up on Harry's lie.
"May I ask why?" inquired the old wizard with mild astonishment.
"Because Divination theory is mostly superfluous," stated Harry bluntly. "I will, of course, teach them enough to pass their exams, but Divination is an instinctual subject, and differs from person to person. I find that set rules only inhibit talent."
"You are the expert," murmured Dumbledore politely, "but what exactly do you have in mind?"
"In truth, I will not change the syllabus much for the third, fourth and fifth years. Hardly any of them will have an iota of talent, so they may as well learn the more widely accepted version of Divination."
"Understandable, carry on," nodded his employer.
"I understand that there are only two seventh years and one sixth year who have chosen my subject?"
"That is correct."
"Then I wish to combine the two classes and teach them some techniques for mental control, and a branch of magic that I have developed myself."
"You are not going to teach them Occlumency, I hope?" asked Dumbledore suspiciously. "Mind arts are considered Dark by the Ministry and are therefore illegal."
"No, I will not be touching on Occlumency," assured Harry. "Only a few meditation techniques, as mental discipline plays an important role in the Art of Divination. It will also help them master the new form of Seeing that I plan to teach them."
"And what form is that," asked Dumbledore, leaning forward on his desk and gazing at his employee intently.
"Doesn't have a name," shrugged Harry. "As I said, I invented it; or at least reinvented it. There are no written records of the art, though there are hints of mages throughout history with similar powers. As you know, true Visions come unbidden, in vague and ambiguous terms, and often cannot be recollected by the Seer in question. Most Seers find it impossible to See consciously. My method does not allow one to See as far into the future as true Vision, but it is definitely possible to view months back into the past."
"The past?" said Dumbledore, startled.
"You just need the right medium, which is the tricky bit," grinned Harry. "It also depends on one's power levels.
"Intriguing," twinkled Dumbledore. "But tell me, have you not also had true Visions?"
"Oh yes," assured Harry, calmly lying. "But it is impossible to teach much about that in class."
"Professor Morrigan," started Dumbledore, having reached a decision. "You can teach your students whatever you deem fit, as long as it not illegal. Just make sure they pass their exams."
"Of course, thank you," smiled Harry gratefully.
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"This sorting is taking forever," complained Hooch.
"You're just hungry, Vera, admit it," accused Harry.
"Fine, it's true, I want to eat," she grinned. "But did anyone ever tell you that all-knowing Seers piss people off?"
"I didn't See that," shrugged Harry, hiding a grin. "You thumping the table with your cutlery chanting 'food, food' was a tiny clue."
"Damn it, I knew there was something giving me away," mock-scowled Hooch.
"Shouldn't you be paying attention to the Sorting?" asked Harry, as Melanie Periwinkle became a Ravenclaw.
"Yeah, but it's boring," she said dismissively. "Anyway, what about you?"
"I only teach third years and above," said Harry with a shrug.
"Lucky you; the first years are always obnoxious little devils," complained Hooch, then Dumbledore got up to do his speech. "Ooh, speech!"
Harry rolled his eyes at her immature behaviour. He had never seen this side of her as a student. Some of the other teachers were giving the two youngest professors disapproving looks.
"Welcome, students," beamed Dumbledore, his white beard gleaming in the dandle light. The hall was truly spectacular, and Harry felt reassured at the sight of students filling the tables, albeit it drove home the fact that he was now a teacher.
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"So what do you think of the new firsties," Dean Thomas asked his best friend Neville Longbottom.
"They're ok," he shrugged.
"They're titchy, though," said Seamus Finnegan, gesturing to the few shivering first years sitting at the end of the table.
"Don't be so rude!" snapped a bushy haired girl who had until then been immersed in a book. A prefect badge was pinned to her pristine school robes.
The boys rolled their eyes.
"Relax, Granger," said Dean.
"It is not done to disrespect fellow students," she said primly. "Especially first years."
She continued to lecture, but Neville tuned her out. Honestly, being a book worm and a muggleborn wasn't that bad, but did she have to be so obnoxious?
"Welcome students!" pronounced Dumbledore, beginning his annual speech and therefore cutting off any further discussion throughout the hall. He wore a sombre expression as his gaze swept the Hall, noting the many empty seats of fallen students. "First, please stand for a minutes silence for the students who have left us. Eleanor Fitzwilliam, Ronan Fitzwilliam, Annabel Frost, Penelope Clearwater, Emily Parks, Andromache Bardsley and Arnaud Delacroix were all innocent victims of this war. We will remember them."
Silently, the students rose to their feet. A few - close friends or relatives of the dead; shook with quite tears as they stood. The rest were respectful, but otherwise unaffected. Deaths were too frequent now for every life lost to be treated as a tragedy. No one in this hall had not lost someone close to them. After twenty years of war, even children were numb to the pain of losing a loved one.
After the minute had passed, the students seated themselves once more, shooting glances of suspicion or outright hatred between the different tables, each house blaming the other.
Dumbledore sighed at the sign of discord, then continued to speak in more light-hearted tones. "Now, a few school rules. Due to the ever present threat of Voldemort," everyone winced and one girl almost had hysterics, "I will again urge you all to err on the side of caution. Curfew is to be vigorously followed, and Hogsmeade visits will only be available to sixth and seventh years, and take place under strict supervision from Aurors and teachers. The Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, completely out of bounds. Also, if you see any suspicious behaviour, please notify the teachers immediately.
"I also regret to inform you that Professor Maven has still not recovered from the curses he sustained during the attack on Diagon Alley over a year ago. Therefore Professor Snape has been gracious enough to agree to continue teaching Potions in his stead."
The Slytherin students clapped in support of their Head of House, but the applause from the other tables was decidedly unenthusiastic.
"Another year with the sadistic bastard," groaned a third year Gryffindor near Neville.
"Reckon we could sabotage a potion to get Snape into Saint Mungo's along with Professor Maven?" asked Dean hopefully.
"Nah, the man may be a useless and blatantly unfair teacher, but he is good enough at potions not to let himself be blown up," replied Neville.
"How dare you talk about a teacher like that!" snapped Hermione Granger, once more glaring. She quickly cut herself off from continuing, though, as Dumbledore motioned for silence. The Gryffindors seated near her rolled their eyes at her behaviour.
"On a lighter note," continued Dumbledore. "Professor Trelawney decided to take a well-deserved holiday, so we have a new Divination teacher this year, Professor Morrigan!"
A tall, slim and dark haired man stood up and waved at the students, who clapped vigorously, both in welcome and in celebration of Trelawney's departure.
"Wow, he looks so young," said Neville. At most Morrigan looked like he was in his early twenties. "How could he have got the teaching position?"
"I don't care, he's just so handsome," said Parvati dreamily.
"And his emerald eyes are so dreamy," seconded Lavender. The boys shook their heads in disgust.
"The man's probably an idiot and a fraud," scowled Seamus. Everyone knew he had a crush on Parvati. "Think of Trelawney."
"Ooh, I see Death in your future," cried Dean in a fake, high voice. "The Grim is stalking you!"
The other boys laughed, but Parvati just wailed, "Why did I give up Divination!"
All over the hall, girls seemed to be complaining about much the same thing, while others stared at the new professor in admiration. Professor Morrigan, Neville noted, seemed to be slightly uncomfortable with the attention. His green eyes were roaming the hall, taking in every inch. The young Gryffindors eyes narrowed slightly, though, as he saw the Slytherins and some Ravenclaws muttering darkly to one another, sending subtle glances at the new Professor.
"Give me Defence against the Dark Arts any day," he said firmly.
Some near-by fifth years immediately simpered, "You're so brave," causing Neville to sit up a little straighter. Ever since the Prophecy had been leaked to the press seven years ago, everyone acted as if he were some sort of hero. Neville enjoyed the attention, though was unsettled at the thought of actually fulfilling the prophecy.
'Especially 'cos I can't live up to their expectation," he admitted to himself. 'If Voldemort attacks me in person, I'll be flattened.'
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Dumbledore watched the chattering students with a smile. It was good to see them all safe and happy in the middle of a war, but he noticed that his favourite student, Neville Longbottom, looked a bit depressed. Poor boy, sighed Dumbledore, but brightened up as he saw his new professor squirm uneasily under the gazes of almost all the female students in the hall.
Hadrian Morrigan was a mystery that was for sure. What was he hiding? Dumbledore was determined to find out.
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Harry himself was searching through the sea of students for faces he recognised. Some he had never seen before, others which he had been expecting were noticeably missing. Such as Ron Weasley. Where was he? Was he dead or, Harry started slightly as this thought struck him, had he never existed? Many families would not dare to have children in the middle of a war, were the Weasleys one of them? Harry's eyes flickered along the Gryffindor table. He could see the twins, surrounded by a laughing bunch of Gryffindor students, but no Ron or Ginny.
He was soon distracted, though, by Vera and Professor Sprout, who were obligingly warning him of all the things that could go wrong on the first day, smirking as he grew visibly more nervous.
Harry tried to tune them out, instead picking at his meagre food. Shortage reigned even here at Hogwarts. The once overflowing tables were only covered by simple meals in small amounts. Reminiscently, Harry recalled the magnificent banquets there had previously been held at Hogwarts. Even here, in a school full of children, clear signs of the war outside were visible. Thin bodies, grim faces and tearful eyes lurked beneath the cheerful surface of the sparkling hall. Oh, what a world to live in, thought Harry sombrely.
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A/N Hi again. It's been a while, I know. Sorry about that. The next update should come out faster.
I've had quite a few people ask me about the pairings in this story. It's complicated. As I wrote in the summary, there will be a marriage contract later in the story, (involving an original character,) but it will not be one of your typical marriage fics. I haven't decided on any 'true love' pairing yet. Harry will have a few relationships with other characters, but nothing very serious. I can promise you, though, that it will not be slash. I don't have anything against it personally, but in my mind Harry is firmly heterosexual. I can also promise you there will be no Harry/Hermione, I can't stand that pairing.