A/N: I know I'm using the Author's Note to apologise every time, so I'm just going to skip that and announce that I'm in the middle of my holiday, which has had very few opportunities to write on the computer. The finale is getting written by hand though, and I can announce that there will be a sequel to this story. I really hope you enjoy this longer chapter and, in the future, the finale. Finally, I'd like to shout out to my sister, who's been very helpful... always.
The sun began to set in the distance, silhouetting the mountains and topping them with haloes of orange and gold. The clouds created red and purple stripes in the dark blue sky as seven robed figures gathered outside a large thicket on the edge of a forest. The figure who looked remarkably cat-like raised what looked like a small twig and pointed it at the edge of the thicket. Two trees growing close together began to tremble, and their trunks bowed outwards slightly, so that a man could just squeeze between them.
Harry clambered through the gap between the slender silver birch and the broad oak, brushing through the bushes that lined the barely discernible path beyond. It wound almost halfway around the thicket until it finally opened up into the clearing inside. The ground was raised so that the trees would cast less shadow, and steps carved into the side by the time Harry had come through behind the rest of the professors. Flitwick was twirling his wand, surrounded by a swirling cloud of stones.
As the stones fell down to the ground, forming a series of paths around the area, an inordinate number of potted plants were zooming towards Professor Sprout from the greenhouses. McGonagall and Professor Bell directed a number of coniferous shrubs to lay out a plan that they had drawn up, splitting the area into six smaller parts, plus a larger semicircular part at the end. Sprout waved her wand so that the shrubs bulked out, blocking each of the different sections from the view of the others.
"Ok, everybody take a section. Design it how you like, just don't go overboard." McGonagall then headed for her own section, and the others followed suit. Harry was left with the larger end section as a mark of thanks, but the professors didn't let this slip. He planned to return every day to tend the plants in this area, until McGonagall was to announce the opening of the garden.
"Where've you been?" called Ron from a sofa as soon as Harry returned. Harry put a hurt look onto his face, though it was clearly laced with a hint of amusement.
"Oh hush, Ron," murmured Hermione from his lap. She was curled up there with her eyes closed and a serene expression on her face. Ron grinned at Harry and stroked her hair in response, pressing the issue no further.
"You're my best friend, Ron. Where would I be if I didn't trust you? I'll tell you at breakfast tomorrow, where there are fewer people to overhear us." Ron's look grew puzzled. "It's a secret, Ronald," grinned Harry. "Anyway, where's Ginny?"
"Oh hush, Harry," murmured Hermione. Harry smirked, but the next moment he yelled and leapt into the air. He turned round quickly to find a small redhead behind him, giggling hard, her eyes flashing wickedly. Hermione opened her eyes, scowling at the pair of them. "Please, is there no such thing as peace and quiet?"
"Sorry, Hermione," intoned Harry, Ron and Ginny at the same time. Hermione rolled her eyes and settled back down. Harry led Ginny away, so as to not disturb Hermione further. "Hi there, Gin," he said, sitting down on another sofa and motioning for Ginny to sit beside him.
"Oh, hello, Harry," she replied with mock surprise, "I didn't see you there. Where on earth have you been?"
"Ah, that, my dear, is a secret," he replied, tapping his nose conspiratorially.
"You don't keep secrets from me, do you, Harry?" asked Ginny plaintively, sticking out her bottom lip as far as it would go. Harry leant forward and kissed her pouting lips.
"Of course not. There's too many people to overhear here though." Ginny smiled and threw her arms around his neck. They laughed for a while as they hugged. "What are you going to do with your first paycheque?" Harry asked.
"What paycheque?" asked Ginny, bewildered. "I don't even have a job."
"Yes you do," Harry reminded her. "You're an Associate Professor of Defence. That's a very important job. In fact, we're all getting paid. The normal Defence Professor's salary is being split between all of us." He grinned as her jaw dropped, and carefully closed it for her. "Why don't you sleep on it?"
The next morning, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the top end of the Gryffindor table. Neville was sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Hannah Abbott. The two had become quite close after the battle of Hogwarts, having ended up fighting together on the front line with the Herbologists. George was in school today as he had lessons, and so was sitting with Angelina, leaving Verity in charge of the shop.
"There's going to be a memorial garden in the forest for those who died in the Battle of Hogwarts," whispered Harry to Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
"Why's that a secret?" asked Hermione. "And why's it in the forest? That's not very safe. You know it's forbidden for good reason."
"Hagrid's fenced off the fringe of the forest. We can go there, but not into the heart of the forest. Thinking about it, it's high time the forest was fenced off. First-years could easily just wander in there, not knowing how dangerous it is."
"Or second-years," said Ron. They all laughed as they remembered how Harry and Ron had plunged into the Forbidden Forest, chasing spiders, in their second year. Meanwhile, George had just opened a letter, delivered by an owl coloured purple with yellow stars. He scanned the letter, his smile growing broader with every line he read. Eventually he stood up and walked up to McGonagall.
"I wonder what George is up to," mused Harry.
"Oh, it's probably something wildly silly and immature," scoffed Hermione. "What I'm really curious about is your upcoming Auror training lesson. What do you think you'll learn first?"
"Oh, it's not going to be training for me. I'm going to teach this week, and be taught next week. It's so it doesn't put so much strain on the trainers, having me being taught here."
"Cool," said Ron in awe. "What will you teach that the other trainees don't already know?"
"Well," Harry replied cryptically, "I was planning on teaching a little unorthodox first year magic." Harry left it at that, and refused to tell them exactly what he would teach. Nevertheless, they all had Charms the next lesson and they didn't let up in pestering him for information. A distraction came in the form of the diminutive Professor Flitwick approaching.
"Could you four either split up or concentrate on the task at hand, please. This is your NEWT year – perhaps the most important year of your life."
"Yes, Professor," they intoned.
"Oh, and Harry, could you post this up on the eighth year notice board?" Flitwick handed Harry a sheet of parchment and returned to his desk at the front of the classroom. Meanwhile, Ron snatched the parchment from Harry's hand in order to read the notice.
"Awesome!" he exclaimed, amidst receiving punches from Hermione. "They've called an early Hogsmeade weekend."
"When is it?" asked Harry. He had been looking forward to taking Ginny somewhere nice during the first Hogsmeade weekend, but hadn't expected it until at least the end of October.
"Saturday," replied Ron to great surprise, including from those just around them. "But it says that anybody planning to go to Hogsmeade must be in the Entrance Hall, ready to leave, by eleven o'clock in the morning." He passed the note back to Harry. "I'm never going to be up for that!" They all chuckled, and Ginny nodded fervently. By this time, the message had got all the way around the classroom, so everyone was talking about the event.
"Please," squeaked Flitwick, "could you concentrate on your work! Harry, I expected better of you. You should be responsible now."
"I'm really sorry, Professor," apologised Harry.
"That's ok," smiled Flitwick. "I know how irksome Weasley can be." He winked at Ron and returned to the heavy book he had been writing in. Ron looked hurt, shocked and amused at the same time, before turning back to the essay he was writing on wandlore.
"I can't wait until we get to the practical part though," Ron grumbled.
"That won't be too far away," said Hermione brightly. "We've got supersensory charms coming up soon. They would have been really useful last year."
"And the year before," said Harry. "We could have listened in to what Malfoy was up to. We could have prevented the whole thing. Nobody needed to have died, and nobody needed to have got hurt." Harry had a faraway look on his face as he said this, one that was filled with regret. Ginny put her arms around him.
"It wasn't your fault," she murmured to him. "You can't blame everything on yourself, you know. And Dumbledore was going to die anyway. He chose how he would die, and he wouldn't let you stop that. Everything has played out the way it has, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. I, personally, wouldn't change anything for the world." She stroked his hair at this last sentence and planted a kiss on his cheek. This seemed to snap him out of his reverie.
"You're right," he conceded. "You're always right."
Friday came quicker than expected, and in no time at all, Harry was heading for his lesson after lunch, after which he would be teaching this year's intake of trainee Aurors. He reached the classroom to find the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws lining up, and smiled as a handful of them were still bouncing with joy to see him. He ushered them in and sat on the desk at the front, facing them.
"You've been told what Defence Against the Dark Arts is all about. It's a matter of safety, for you and those around you, whether they be wizards or Muggles. As witches and wizards, you now have the responsibility to look over those without magic. You are not superior to them in any way.
"The main problem we have faced for centuries is people setting a lot by blood status. Purebloods set themselves above half-bloods, and Muggle-borns, tastefully known as mudbloods, were almost as low as Muggles and Squibs. And from this came many of the dark arts.
"But, back to your responsibility. I am going to teach you the most basic spell you need to defend yourselves with, and I believe you should know this from your first day at this school. It is the shield charm. Unfortunately, to better learn the shield charm, you need to know an offensive spell so that you can practise it in pairs.
"Therefore I will teach you the disarming spell, which I learned in the second year. It will also help you to defend yourselves, but remember that you are only allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts in the most dangerous of situations. Now, everybody split up into pairs and spread yourselves around the classroom." The second years followed Harry's instructions and were soon paired up and spread out. Harry's fame was enough to prevent any misbehaviour, at least at this point in the year.
"Now," Harry continued, "I'm going to place a cushioning charm on the floor, just in case one of you manages to cast the spell a little off and knock your partner off their feet rather than their wand out of their hand. The incantation for the spell is 'expelliarmus'. Everybody repeat that." There was a rumble of voices as they each mumbled the incantation. "Mollius," muttered Harry as he cast the charm.
"Did you see my wand twitch slightly as you all said that? That was the combined power of all of you trying to disarm me. With any luck, we'll get each of you properly disarming people by the end of this double period. Halfway through, I'll be replaced by my good friend Professor Weasley, who will continue the lesson."
Harry walked around the classroom, helping pairs as they needed it. He corrected their wand movements and their pronunciation, and even tried to make them visualise the spell working in order to 'show' their wands what they wanted to achieve. By the time he had to leave for the Auror training, there were a handful of wands jumping an inch and a couple of successful disarms. Harry told them to carry on practising until Ron came along, and headed down the corridor to a classroom indistinguishable from the others from the outside.
He sat on the desk at the front again, but this time faced the side, where there was a large fireplace. Strangely, one of the wrought iron mini-pillars that made up the decoration around the front of the fire was bent outwards. Flames suddenly roared to life in the grate, sparkling as green as Harry's own eyes, and a line of witches and wizards trooped out of the fire. The majority of them were no more than three years older than Harry, somewhere around twenty, and a couple were in their late thirties or early forties, clearly headed for the part-secretarial, part-research jobs in the Auror office, sent to gain an understanding of what the Aurors in the field went through, as well as to learn some vital research techniques.
"Ladies and gentlemen," began Harry, pushing the decorated iron bar back to its original upright position, "my name is Harry Potter, and I have been tasked with sharing my experiences of the Dark Arts with you. I am supposed to teach things that an education at Hogwarts, or other magical institutions, would not necessarily teach you. Hopefully, at the end of the year, I should be able to join you in further Auror training.
"Now, my first lesson is on entry. By that, I mean how to get into places people don't really want you going. If you could only go where people wanted you to go, no dark wizards would ever be caught, as I'm sure you realise. But then again, you too need to be able to prevent those very same dark wizards from getting into your homes or places needing high security. Therefore, there is always going to be a balance of access and the prevention of access, as new security measures are systematically invented and thwarted.
"Oh," said Harry, remembering something, "I am supposed to give you the opportunity to ask questions, so... any questions?" An older witch raised her hand politely, but a young man close to the front, who had worn a rather superior expression since seeing Harry, called out.
"Why are we being taught by someone barely out of Hogwarts?" he asked rudely. "Surely you can't believe that you know better than us, and surely we should be taught by someone with more experience."
"Yes," conceded Harry, "those are very good points." He didn't want to call the man out on his rudeness and make a fuss. "I do not believe that I know better than you, and neither do I believe that I know more than you. However, as I am teaching at Hogwarts, it would be rude for an instructor to come up to this castle once a week without giving at least some recompense. Therefore, I am teaching one of his lessons each fortnight in exchange for a lesson from him each fortnight.
"Your proper instructor will begin his teaching on Monday, and the head of the Auror office has assured me that he is the best. He has a unique teaching style that consists of a lot of self-teaching and the presentation of your research to the rest of the class, and that is what my lessons are to be like. For those of you who pass the test at the end of the year, I will join you in next year's lessons, and any more that continue after that. Until then, this situation continues. Yes?" he asked, indicating the witch with the raised hand.
"How can we expect to protect ourselves when every way of stopping people getting into places is being overcome by others?" the witch asked. Harry didn't know how to express it, but he was glad she asked this question.
"This, indeed, is tricky. The only real way to stop people from getting in is to put up as many of those security measures as possible. This will stop all but the most powerful of dark wizards, and to stop them you will need to know how to duel, but in times of relative peace, fewer security measures will be needed.
"It used to be that the only thing people needed to protect their houses was this." He flourished a key in his hand. "And without it, you could not unlock the door it was for." He locked the door to the corridor. "But now, such simple things can be overcome. Do any of you know how?" Nobody raised their hands. "It's a spell my friend Hermione came across in our first year, but one which we have never been taught. It unlocks any door that hasn't been charmed. The incantation is 'alohomora'. Come and try it."
The bell rang after ten minutes of unlocking and relocking the classroom door and Harry pulled the bar to let the assembled witches and wizards back through the fireplace to the Auror training facility.
"In two weeks, I hope to continue with ways of preventing entry into your home," he announced as they left. The man who had been so indignant at being taught by Harry stayed behind for a moment to say something.
"I'm sure you'll work out how to better phrase things soon enough – I know I took a long time to learn the right speech patterns for the right situations – but I'd like to say sorry, because that was a fantastically taught lesson. Thank you." And with that, the man retreated into the green flames once more.