A/N: Thanks for bearing with me, ladies and gentlemen. I'm gradually getting back up to my old speed of writing again, and I'm writing the finale whenever I'm not writing this first part of the story. I don't want to blow my own trumpet but... it's gonna be gooood... :D Hopefully...
Harry woke up, bleary-eyed, early the next morning. He silently got dressed and crept through the common room so as not to wake anyone. Though the bare stone was cold on his feet, he padded down the many staircases without shoes or socks. A few of the windows on the way were still broken, and as he passed them a chill wind caused him to draw his cloak more tightly around himself. He pushed open the door to the Great Hall and smiled as he saw that his place had already been furnished with breakfast.
As the smell of fried eggs and sausages wafted over and caressed his nostrils, Harry walked up to the staff table, behind which were situated the giant house hourglasses. He smiled as he looked up at the fifth hourglass, the top bulb filled with diamonds. Over the next hour, the Great Hall filled like his stomach and he was joined by the rest of the teachers.
"Why aren't yeh wearing any shoes, Harry?" asked Hagrid.
"Early morning," explained Harry, stretching. "Oh, Hagrid. What are you doing this morning?"
"Nothin'. Why?"
"I have an idea."
Ten minutes later, Harry walked fully shod into the sixth floor classroom that he liked to use. He sat in the simple chair at the front of the classroom and brought the battered case onto the desk. He opened it to see his plan forming in front of him, written by an invisible hand in the cursive script of his best Defence teacher. There was even a little added note saying that Lupin thought his idea was fantastic, making Harry smile.
As the bell rang, there was a slight commotion at the door, Hagrid dragging in a crate with holes bored into it. Harry glimpsed a handful of curious second year faces before the door closed.
"Accio," muttered Harry, and the door opened. The second years filed in, mostly quietly, and took their places behind their desks, some standing and waiting to be told to sit down. These were some very polite second years, and Harry smiled as he bid them to take their seats.
"Professor Lovegood," began Harry, never having imagined that he would utter those two words together, "and Professor Longbottom have introduced you all to the topic for Defence this year. It is one that was taught very badly in my year, and I hope to do this fantastic subject justice. Professor Hagrid here has kindly agreed to collaborate with me on this very exciting subject, as it's something I learned in his lessons. You will be starting these next year.
"Magical creatures can be very dangerous. Many wonder why they come into Defence Against the Dark Arts, but the dark arts, as well as the defence against them, rely on using what you have and what's around you to your advantage. Barnabas the Barmy, of whom you can see a tapestry in this castle, did more than just train trolls for the ballet. He was successful in getting them to attack his foes in his moments of sanity.
"Defence is also needed for jobs such as being a curse-breaker. Curses can often involve the conjuration of a magical beast to attack those who the curse targets. And thus, we need to know how to fight magical creatures. Not only that, but we need to know when to merely incapacitate them, when to placate them, or even when to befriend them."
He and Hagrid began a series of lessons dealing with the exemplar of bowtruckles. Small creatures though they may be, they could become dangerous when threatened. Hagrid had brought a number of wand tree saplings along, so that the creatures could get used to them and, in time, learn to see them as their own. Then, the lessons could really begin.
As the second years were introduced to their bowtruckles, an owl flew through the open window and landed on Harry's shoulder. It was small, grey and fluffy, and was the owl used to carry memos between the teachers. From the slant of the writing, he could tell it was from the headmistress herself. He took the crisply folded piece of parchment and began to read.
Dear Harry,
As you know, you are going to be studying with the Auror office this year. The head auror, Gawain Robards, has just arrived at the school in order to meet with you this lunchtime. He requests your presence in my office as soon as you have finished your lunch. Talking of which, Albus always loved his roast potatoes. I should get the elves to cook them more often.
Kind Regards,
Minerva.
P.S. Apologies for going off on a tangent. I know you'll understand.
Harry folded up his letter and flashed a quick smile at Hagrid, who was looking at him expectantly. He stroked the little owl, which hooted and flew off again, and hurried over to a pair of Hufflepuffs struggling with their bowtruckle. The small, log-like creature was flailing in the grip of the young boys, drawing blood. Stoic as Hufflepuffs were, they didn't let go.
By the end of the lesson, every pair had gained the trust of their bowtruckle. Even the pair of Hufflepuffs had a kind of wary acquaintance with theirs. Each pair quickly constructed a large cage with a flick of their wands and carved their names on it, so that they could tell which bowtruckle was theirs. Finally, they put the cages against the walls of an extremely large neighbouring classroom, and into them they carefully placed their bowtruckles and wand tree saplings.
As the second years – more than an eighth of the entire student body of Hogwarts – filed out of the cavernous room, Harry conjured up a wrought iron key and locked the door with a clunk. Somehow, it was as if the clunk of the key was followed by another clunk, at the same time audible and non-existent. Harry, having had a Muggle upbringing, was reminded instantly of the classic image of mechanisms suddenly whirring into life in his head.
The next lessons flew past until it was suddenly lunchtime. The speed at which he wolfed down his food even rivalled that of Ron as he hurried to get to his meeting. No matter how much Hermione insisted that it didn't matter, Harry was convinced that being any later than possible would make a bad first impression. With cries of protest from Hermione, Ron and Ginny, he ran back out of the hall barely five minutes after he had entered and took the stairs three at a time to McGonagall's office.
"Roast potatoes," said Harry breathlessly to the gargoyle. It respectfully stepped aside, no longer with its usual vigour, to let Harry clamber up the moving staircase. He waited for a few moments before the imposing door in order to catch his breath, then knocked.
"Come in," called a familiar voice. Harry opened the door to find Professor McGonagall sitting behind her desk, with a tall man standing just behind her, wearing a black robe that seemed darker than ordinary robes. "I'll leave you two to it then," she said when she saw it was Harry. She left the room, and the man took her chair. He began to speak just as the door clicked shut for a second time.
"Now, Harry, I imagine your thoughts are full of first impressions. I can also tell that you rushed your lunch and are quickly regretting it. That in itself does not give a good first impression. From that I am disappointed. I imagined you to be better." Harry opened his mouth to protest.
"However," the man, presumably Robards, continued, holding his hand up to Harry, "first impressions are never the truth. You of all people should know the Muggle phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'. Let this be your first lesson, and one that I am sure you have learnt many times. It's the most important lesson you will learn, and you will realise it again, just as you did today, many times over.
"The second and final lesson today, you have already learned, at least in part. Never rush your meals. They are one of the most important things to you and must never be sacrificed when possible. The top priority of an Auror in a normal situation is to survive for the more important battles. There is such a thing as being too noble, and I know you are extremely noble." Harry began to speak again, but, once again, Robards held up his hand for silence.
"Don't pretend you aren't, Harry. We all know you are. The only problem is just that. You're famous, and nearly everyone in the wizarding world has followed your exploits. People are talking of books, here. Every possible dark wizard out there knows how noble you are, and they will always try to take advantage of that. You have to be improbable, unpredictable, ever-changing.
"But anyway, my apologies if you didn't follow some of that. I don't have quite the way with words as the man who will be training you. Talking of which, he will be training you once a fortnight as that is all we can spare him for. The other lessons, you will be teaching. I gather you have the hang of that now. Here are a few prompts written by our top trainer that you may find useful."
As Robards pushed the piece of parchment across the desk towards Harry, there was a light jangling from his pocket. He pulled out a pocket watch, opened it and looked at it.
"Something's come up. I have to leave. I will talk to you at a later date." With that, he threw a pinch of powder into the fireplace, muttered some sort of long code, and disappeared into the emerald flames. Harry was left staring at the fire, at where the head of the Auror office had just been, bewildered by the brevity of the conversation.
"Sorry about that, Harry," said McGonagall, entering her office once more. "We thought there'd be enough time for a proper conversation, given that, well, they have less work to do now. All thanks to you, of course. However, the supply of dark wizards is endless. Everybody's queuing to don Voldemort's mantle."
"That's ok," said Harry, finally turning away from the fireplace. "I understand completely. It's just... there's so much I wanted to ask him. I never really got a chance this summer."
"I'm sure you'll be able to talk to him during the Christmas break. I'll make sure of it. Nevertheless, I've just been talking to Hagrid, Pomona, Horace, June and Filius. We were planning on making a memorial garden in the Hogwarts grounds and we wanted your input. Would you like to join us tonight in the grounds?"
"Of course. I think I've got a few ideas that might interest you."
That evening, Harry, McGonagall, Hagrid and the four heads of houses met just outside Hagrid's cabin. Harry was the last to arrive and was welcomed enthusiastically by the professors. They walked into the fringe of the forbidden forest, where the trees weren't so dense, and up to a fence about a hundred metres in from where the trees began.
"Hagrid has kindly helped me to fence off an area of forest around its edge," explained Flitwick. "We were planning on putting the memorial garden somewhere within this belt of trees. Besides, the fence will deter some of our more... adventurous students from exploring the Forbidden Forest. I seem to remember that you had your fair share of ventures into the forest," he chuckled. Harry grinned back sheepishly.
"I can see the benefit of the fence," Harry agreed diplomatically. "Talking about the garden, though, I believe that it should be hidden from view. This way, it can be more peaceful, so that people can properly remember those who fell."
"I agree," piped up the young Professor Bell, still nervous about speaking up among her more experienced colleagues. "Shall we, I don't know, look for a suitable spot? It doesn't have to be perfect. We do have, well, magic, you know."
"Very true, June," exclaimed Slughorn in his jolly, booming voice, rubbing his hands together. "Let's split up, the faster ones of us scouting out good areas, so that we can have a good look at them." He chuckled heartily once more. "I bet you were going to say that, weren't you, Harry m'boy! Just the sort of thing you'd say." Harry winked at Slughorn, in what he hoped was the way Slughorn acted.
Harry summoned his broom, McGonagall transformed into a cat and Flitwick conjured a floating purple cushion, tastefully adorned with golden tassels, and the three of them zoomed off, marking each spot with a globe of light.
"Come along then, ladies!" boomed Slughorn.