A/N - I was supposed to post this much earlier to accompany the previous, short chapter. Unfortunately where I am right now the internet turns off every night and at night is when I remember to write/edit/post.

Good news, I've started writing this story again! It's difficult keeping up with this one and SM but as long as I alternate it's manageable.

Disclaimer - The themes and most characters belong to my queen, JK Rowling, author of the true Harry Potter books.

It was bright and early. He'd skipped breakfast. He'd woken up before the sunrise without any magical aid and gotten dressed with precision. Until now Harry hadn't been too worried, training had been fun, intense but fun and he had no doubts of being able to train young witches and wizards to fly. Only in the light of day was reality setting in.

He had no idea how to do this or where to begin! This was all going to end in disaster and he knew it. McGonagall would blame herself for giving him the job, parents would send him howlers he'd be embarrassed in front of the other professors. Besides not being able to swallow a single mouthful of breakfast Harry needed to get to his office. All his notes from the past week were there, safety drills, step by step class plans, the dot points for getting through the broom shed security charms, everything that had seemed so simple was now illegible.

Taking a deep shaky breath he noted there was at least another hour and a half before class began, the students would be in the Hall for breakfast still, McGonagall would be down there, watching over them.

He had four rolls of parchment for the First year classes he was to teach, he had Monday's class' in front of him, nineteen students. There would be eleven on Tuesday, eighteen on Wednesday and only eight on Friday, he was going to like Fridays.

McGonagall had explained in one of the staff meetings how the new classes worked, that the students in older year levels would be situated by what classes they selected to do but for First years whose classes were compulsory there was a complex sort of mixture where no two students shared too many classes and everyone belonged to a different house. Not that it would be hard due to the earlier night's sorting. McGonagall would have had to have organized all of those time-tables in one night, Harry supposed Flitwick may have come up with a charm but even still it would have been a lot of work, what he had to do was nothing really compared to that. He felt a little better.

So his first day and his biggest class, he had extra notes from McGonagall, reminding him not to let any student become excluded, when it was acceptable to allow them bathroom breaks and when they could ask questions, plus he had Hooch's scrolls of rules.

But always first was the broom shed, first and last, take off the charms, put them back on, the charms wouldn't work unless all the brooms were back and safe. If they weren't the shed wouldn't lock and the professor who lifted the charms in the first place would be compelled make sure they all returned.

He could deal with that, all he needed to do was lift the charms, then he'd just set out the brooms for class and it would all come to him after that.

It didn't, it was thirty minutes for class to start and Harry was feeling sick. How was this responsible? Leaving him in charge? He had no idea what to do, he could kill someone today, not just someone! A child!

He took a deep breath, looking over the straight formation of brooms, two rows facing each other.

Address the class. Get them to address you. Take down their names. Explain flying. Teach them 'up'. Correct their handling. Teach them 'hover'. Teach them 'mount'. If there's time let them fly a few feet off the ground one at a time.

He repeated that three or four times before his brain changed it.

But if someone's broom gets out of control you'll have to rescue him or her. Leaving eighteen kids unattended with their brooms. Someone might do something dangerous. If someone falls the whole class has to go to the hospital wing. You can't leave a first year unattended with a broom. What if they don't like you? What if they play up? What if one of them flies into the air even though you told them not to? Nothing's stopping them.

Harry pulled a fistful of scrolls out of his pockets and began to go through them in a frenzy. He ended up just focusing on the little speech he intended for them after he took their names.

"Flying is probably the most noble way a magical person can travel, it's almost impossible to interfere with and the magic doesn't control your body, your body controls it. Once you learn to fly many possibilities are opened up to you, Of course I mean Quidditch and for those of you who pay attention I'll hope to see you in Hogwarts new junior league…"

It all sounded so dry and clumsy now, how could he possibly read this out without sounding rehearsed?

It was too late, they were coming. Marching two-by-two out of the castle and down to the shed, they looked excited and happy, some half running and skipping. Harry didn't know if this was a good thing or not. He stood waiting with his arms crossed, should he be stern? Let them know straight away whose boss or be friendly and hope to Merlin they don't take advantage of it. Godric, they were close now, and they were staring at him expectantly, what was he to say?

"Good morning class, I'm your Flying Professor, Professor Potter."

"Good morning Professor Potter." They chorused, except one witch who stood still with her mouth open. Harry didn't really notice this.

"Alright, so I'm going to take down your names so I know everyone's here. When I call you out you can answer however you want, Okay?"

He got some enthusiastic nods in reply.

From Raymond Alcott to Nerada Yates everyone was "here." "Present." Or in Cepheus Dibbon's case "Pumpkin!"

"Flying is the most noble way a magical person can travel, because the magic is on the broom and not affecting yourself. You have complete control over it. Some of you will have natural talent and others will need to work harder to figure it out and let's not pretend that we don't know what it's all for, I hope to see you all trying out for the junior Quidditch league. I believe you'll all be able to play well if you pay attention and put your minds to it."

This earned him a rather adept cheer, which put him back as he hadn't thought his slightly improvised speech to be that inspirational.

"Err…right, well we need to start with the basics so everyone sand next to a broom. It doesn't matter which one Frost." He told a blonde little girl trying to push past a boy to get to an ordinary Clean sweep.

"Dibbon, you know that isn't a broom." It seemed Cepheus was going to cause trouble, the freckled lad was standing proudly by a fallen branch, a good few yards away from the group.

"If you can fly that I'll be impressed but I doubt you'll make it onto a pitch any year soon."

Dibbon shrugged and came back to the snickering group.

"Alright, first is summoning your broom, it's simple enough but the challenge isn't in the command but your intention behind it. You have to make yourself feel relaxed on the inside, remember you don't have to fly today if you don't want to."

At least one young witch and one young wizard seemed to let out a relieved breath at this statement.

"Hold your hand out like this." Harry said demonstrating. "And say up."

Cepheus was one of the two whose brooms flew to their hands without the verbal command, the other Harry hadn't noticed until now, he should have recognized the name on the scroll, it was Mathew Blackfish, the boy who reminded him so much of himself.

"Professor, Professor! Look I did it!" A light little voice called, he looked to see Lucy Frost dancing on her toes.

"Does this mean I'll get to be a seeker like you."

"We'll see."

Harry walked around the group slowly, three students hadn't managed the task yet, in all their cases they weren't loud enough, with a little prompting they got the brooms to obey.

"Well done to Blackfish and Dibbon, I can see that natural talent I was talking about earlier, but don't make any mistake, if you don't pay attention your classmates will surpass you." He said as Frost had put her broom down, now for the third time and was getting it to jump up, not only without the command but she had also decided to shut her eyes.

Now everyone hold the handle in what you think is the correct place. Nerada Yates and Ferdinand Plath were two of the three who hadn't been able to command their brooms. Giving each other a straight look, they both placed their brooms on the ground.

"That's quite enough." Harry told them.

"You can't let your fears rule you, pick the brooms back up and you will give this a try. Do you understand?"

"Yes professor." They said sullenly.

The only student who had their grip perfect was Lucy, Harry felt afraid to tell her, as she seemed to already know and looked ready to burst with excitement.

"Well done Frost-"

"Oh I knew it!" She danced a bit again.

"Good one goosey." Cepheus commended her and corrected his own grip.

Blackfish who almost had it followed suit.

"Now we hover…may I?"

Harry borrowed Florence Montgomery's broom and made it hover.

"See, I guarantee you will be able to do this, the trick is stabilizing it enough so that it can hold you. Now if each of you can get it stable enough to mount it I'll let some of you fly. Of course some may wish to stay grounded for today and that's fine with me."

He handed the broom back to Montgomery.

"Go!"

Blackfish was the first to get on his broom closely followed by Dibbon, then Frost. It seemed Yates, Plath and David Forteshire were the last, when they were finally seated on their brooms they eyed Harry suspiciously as if he was about to push their brooms up into the sky.

"Can I fly now professor?" Frost cried out, toes barely skimming the ground, which he'd told them to stay standing on.

"I suppose we have enough time for everyone who wants a go to have one, since Blackfish got on his broom first he can go.

Mathew gave a shy smile.

"Lucy can go first…" He said.

"No! If you let Goose off the ground she won't come back!" Dibbon exclaimed.

"Why would you want her back?" Leo McGuiness muttered darkly to Cepheus. Harry heard it though and sent him a glare.

"McGuiness, you can form the back of the line, everyone else who wants to fly, line up behind Blackfish, Dibbon and Frost."

Everyone did besides Yates, Forteshire and Plath.

It was nice to see, everyone did quite well, even though Frost went a little overboard and put in a quick loop-the-loop, there was still a good ten minutes left when McGuiness was grounded again.

"Can I have another go?" Frost asked excitedly.

"I'd like to go up too." Blackfish added, he seemed to be in his element on the broom and seemed disappointed to come back down.

"I suppose I haven't had a go yet." Said a shaky voice and Harry looked to see Ferdinand Plath, broom in hand, standing by his classmates with a look of determination on his face.

"I'm glad you're having a go Plath, do you remember how to make the broom hover?"

Ferdinand nodded and managed to get on the broom quickly albeit clumsily.

"Right now all you need to do is push off-"

The boy shot off the ground like a cork out of a bottle, he zoomed into the air and Harry could distinctly hear him shouting "WOO HOO!" At the top of his lungs, had a student just tricked him?

Plath managed a loop-the-loop before Harry got the presence of mind to yell at him.

"GET BACK DOWN THIS INSTANT PLATH!"

The broom jerked around and pointed at them, before zooming full-pelt at the class.

"I CAN'T STOOOOOOOP!"

Was what Harry and everyone else heard before the boy flew off the broom.

Harry pointed his wand and without thinking cast a wordless spell.

Only after Plath landed did he realize what it was, Aresto Momentum. The broom had stopped too. Harry grasped it and put it down before going over to check on his student.

"Would you care to explain?"

Plath was lying on his back, panting and eyes bugging out of his head.

"I was never allowed to fly before. Mother said was dangerous. Not allowed. But it was…brilliant!"

Harry knew he had to take the boy to the hospital wing now and he hated him for it. What a disaster to happen on the first day! He'd told the class at least twenty times how to slow and stop a broom before and whilst they were flying. He supposed Plath hadn't listened or it had all gone out of his head as soon as he'd hit the skies.

"Everyone put down your brooms and form your lines."

"What? Why?"

"Yeah, how come?"

"The bell hasn't gone yet!"

Harry resisted rolling his eyes.

"We're taking Mr. Plath to the hospital wing, quickly, in front of me now please."

Grudgingly the students lined up and they all began walking back to the castle, leaving behind the nineteen brooms Harry had got out that morning. It was the right thing to do and what Hooch had told him to do, but it still left him feeling like he was in dangerous waters, Hinkypunk waters.

Plath was fine. In the infirmary Pomfrey shook her head, after checking over the boy. She sent the students off to their next classes.

"Harry, you're going to have students fall, you can't bring them in here each time when there's nothing wrong with them."

"But I-"

"I understand you were just being careful, but have you ever known a careful year in this school? I've had three poisoned second years in here this morning alone."

Harry's face looked confused.

"Herbology." Pomfrey elaborated.

"Now go and lock the broom shed, McGonagall will need you to begin organizing the new Quidditch leagues."

Harry nodded and left dejectedly. Here he was thinking he was doing the right thing and Madam Pomfrey was telling him to be less concerned. He didn't think that had ever happened in the history of Hogwarts.

He got to the broom shed and found all the deserted brooms; using his wand he began levitating them into the shed. He went to shut the door. It wouldn't budge. Going inside he counted the brooms twenty-three, there was meant to be a total of twenty-four. He felt the cold grip of panic take hold. Shit, where was the missing broom? He ran back outside and looked for the broom, running out so far it became ridiculous. The broom just wasn't there. He hoped it hadn't flown away.

The worse case scenario would be if it had been stolen, but by who? It would have been a first year; after all, any other year could bring their own brooms from home. What was he going to do?

He waved his wand at the shed and found he couldn't place any of the locking charms, of course he couldn't, a broom was missing.

He had to stay there and guard the shed, for goodness knows how long, while goodness knows how many Quidditch applications were being sent to his office. He needed to organize Tuesday's captain's tryouts and Wednesday's team tryouts and then the actual games, negotiating practice sessions on the pitch whilst teaching classes. His magic flared, as he thought angrily how he didn't have time for this.

He paced around the shed, it would be lunch soon, would the broom thief have the gall to show up then? No they'd probably wait for after classes when it was getting dark. Another magic flare, so he'd be here all day?

The thought came that he should Accio the forms. He'd never actually seen them, it would be near impossible, but he'd have to try, he'd need the forms and a self-inking quill.

He closed his eyes; if this didn't work he was going to lose it.

"What are you doing?"

It was the last drawl he ever wanted to hear.

"If you must know I'm trying to summon the Quidditch captain applications so I can go through them."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"But they're in your office." He helped out.

"Well I can't get to my office right now!"

"Why not? Have you forgotten your password? It's not still Pegasus is it?"

Harry gaped for a moment. "How did you…the broom shed wont…HOW DO YOU KNOW MY BLOODY PASSWORD?"

Malfoy snickered.

"Calm down Potter, that was everyone's password before those of us with some intelligence changed it. What about the broom shed?"

"It won't lock."

"You should probably shut the door."

"The door won't shut until all the brooms are away and one's stolen. Why are you here anyway?"

"Look, despite your rudeness I'll tell you. McGonagall needed someone to send you to her office, she's very busy but wants to help you with organizing the captaincy tryouts, I volunteered because I wanted to have a word with you about that myself."

Harry cringed, so now he was keeping the headmistress waiting as well.

"Tell me then." He stated, glaring at the ground.

"During my brief captaincy in fifth year I had a chaser, Brevelo Montague, he was a third year then. I implore you to give him special consideration to captain one of your senior teams."

"Look, he'll get as much consideration as everyone else, you'll need to tell McGonagall I'm stuck out here until the broom is returned."

Draco's face turned livid but he managed to stay mildly composed.

"It seems more straight forward terms are required to get through your thick skull! Do you think I would come out here to plead this players case, to you of all people if I thought he could get captaincy under his own merit?"

"What's wrong with him then? Do you think I wouldn't let him become captain just because he's Slytherin?"

"I wouldn't put it past you." Draco scowled. "But I don't think he's applied."

"Why not?"

"He has a…special friend who wants to be a captain and Montague wants to be in their team. In a very un-Slytherin manner he's letting this friend become captain and he plans to try out for seeker on Wednesday."

"Well why not let him do that?"

"Because." Draco growled. "His friend isn't a Slytherin, and because of McGonagall's new scheme of things, that means Montague won't be playing in honor of his house which also means that my house probably won't even have a team this year."

"So?" Harry asked, non-phased.

"How would you feel if Gryffindor doesn't get a team?"

"I'm not a Gryffindor, remember?" Harry asked with an evil grin, and then he added with mock-pride. "I'm a Moonfrog."

Draco tried very hard not to smile.

"There will be a team for Slytherin, for all you know Montague will apply for captaincy after all. He doesn't owe his friend, I'm sure he'll do what is right."

"Definitely not." Draco growled.

"You can't know that!" Harry cried exasperated.

"Yes I can. One. He is a Slytherin so he'll do what is his best interest and. Two. I found him and his friend snogging outside the sixth year corridor."

Harry snickered.

"That's hilarious, who is she?"

Draco gave him a funny look. "His name's Ethan Bexley."

Harry knew Bexley; he'd swapped his Viktor Krum figurine with him, for Ron's Chudley Cannon's card.

"That's the exploding snap champion." He stated stupidly, remembering the younger student in the tournament.

So the Ravenclaw boy was snogging a Slytherin, Draco had definitely said boy, Brevelo Montague, two wizards. That was unexpected. Harry decided to show indifference, Malfoy was probably expecting some immature response of discomfort and indignant questions.

"Montague? Wasn't he your captain, he should be in his twenties now."

"No, you're thinking of Graham, he's Brevelo's older brother."

Harry laughed.

"Oh yeah he's the one the twins shoved into the…"

He abruptly stopped talking as both wizards experienced equal stabs of pain. Harry had just managed to bring up two painful memories of the war. Montague had been shoved into the vanishing cabinet. His accounts of it had allowed Malfoy to figure out how to use it. Also remembering the twins while Fred was alive was something Harry couldn't quite bare yet.

Harry swallowed.

"I'm so sorry."

Draco just nodded, he looked like he wanted to say something, to scowl or jibe or anything, but he couldn't.

"Are you going to summon the captaincy applications? I might as well see if you're right and Montague had applied after all."

Harry nodded and cast Accio, concentrating on what he thought they might look like.

All that came flying to him was his quill.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?"

"Shut it, Draco, I don't actually know what they look like."

Draco sighed and closed his eyes, in seconds the piles of parchment were soaring toward them.

"You really are a sorry excuse for Flying professor."

He handed the parchment over, then he transfigured Cepheus Dibbon's log into a thin desk and summoned it.

"You're really good at magic." Harry stated surprised, he always felt a bit full of himself when he easily cast wordless magic and he was annoyed Draco could do it too.

"Potter, stop insulting me with your surprise, of course I can do wordless magic, I was in a war."

Harry nodded; at least they were even with bringing it up. Draco beckoned for Harry to put down the parchment so he could wave his wand over them.

The sheets shuffled as though by an invisible wind, then arranged into piles, almost thirty, Harry noted.

"Just as I suspected, he didn't apply." Draco walked over to he table, picking up two substantially large piles.

"Well these are who applied for Slytherin teams, not a bad lot." He put down the piles. "I'd suggest Adelaide Murton, it's unorthodox she being a witch and a half blood but the other's don't have a mind for strategy or leadership, they'll play well."

"Any advice for the junior team."

"I couldn't care less to be honest." Draco cast a finding charm.

"Bexely's applied for an original team, how quaint. Winged Serpents, is that supposed to be cryptic? So I suppose Montague will be playing for them, although it seems Glossop and Brownstone are also going for captain."

The bell sounded for the end of lunch.

"Well Potter, I have to get back to teaching a real class, third years at that, I don't expect you to understand. As it is I don't have time to inform McGonagall myself, you'll have to explain why she had to wait when the broom is returned."

As Draco was walking away a large silver stag zoomed past him, almost bowling him over. Had Potter just shot a spell as him? He whirled around to face the grinning wizard.

"Never mind, I told her myself."

Draco looked bewildered; he'd been able to cast the patronus with the gleeful thought, knowing Draco would look as shocked.

"I've got to go." The blonde repeated and half-ran back to the castle.

Harry sighed, standing at the table, at least he had something to do now the rest of the day. And maybe now McGonagall had his patronus she'd come out and help him.

He was half way through the junior league applications when a silver cat reached him.

"If I wasn't so amused I would lecture you. Make sure you have the trials sorted by tomorrow, remember there will only be eight teams per league, you will have to pick which teams will be legitimate and inform the students who's teams you abolish. I hope the broom is returned."

Harry cringed, that was right, only sixteen teams, and he had twenty-eight. There were nineteen senior teams which captaincies were applied for and nine for the juniors, he didn't know how to do this, he supposed the most logical method would be to abolish the teams where only one application was put in, but that wasn't fair either, what if only one person was eligible for captain but there was a large team waiting to join them, he really needed those applications as well but they would be going to the captain he chose in this round.

Inspiration stuck him as he was going through the teams. Beside each other he had placed Slytherclaw and Raverin. Only one had applied as team Raverin but three for Slytherclaw, he joined the two teams, then he added the one who'd applied for Slytherin-Ravenclaw (as was written on the application)

Then he combined Gryffinpuff and Huffledor (one captaincy application each).

He still had sixteen, twice as many teams as he wanted, he knew the teams that needed to stay, Moonfrog, he was surprised had a team, made up of different houses, and Dragonwing had the largest number of applications, ten to Slytherines nine. Ravenclaw only had one application so he combined that with the previous Slytherclaw group. It seemed the original Hufflepuff didn't have any captaincy applications but there were the applications for Huffleclaw, Gryffinpuff, Slytherpuff, Hufflein, Huffledor and Hufflegryfferin. Harry combined all six. That was easy.

Last were the three original teams, the Winged Serpents, Honeybees and Foul Bludgers.

Moonfrog

Gryffindor

Huff

Slytherclaw

Dragonwing

Slytherin

Winged Serpents

Honeybees

Foul Bludgers.

In a stroke of wisdom he got the nine Slytherin captains and the five Gryffindors and combined them.

And then another thought struck him, he'd give each team a co-captain, he'd pick the best captain for this new Slytherin-Gryffindor team and then the co-captain would be from the opposing house. He grinned at this prospect.

He cast tempest to see that classes were only half way through. He didn't mind however, he would gladly go through these eight new teams and profile the applicants.

Chancing a look at the nine junior teams he shuffled the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams together again. There would be no house rivalry on his watch.

The day was growing dark. Harry had already gone through all the applications nine times over and was pretty sure he knew who he'd be looking out for tomorrow afternoon. Placing the applications back together he shrunk them and put them in his robes pocket, then he transfigured Draco's table into a chair and sat on it to watch the sun set over the forest.

He sat like that in a calm state for some time before his thoughts seeped back into his mind.

I suppose they'll bring the broom back after they've flown it.

Was one such thought, followed by, flown it? An unaccompanied eleven year old, flying a broom, where would they fly it?

The answer was the Quidditch pitch; he'd idly watched a group of students walk toward there not two minutes ago, weren't they meant to be in the Hall for dinner?

Harry sprung to his feet, flinging out his wand he pointed it at the shed and summoned out the closest Clean sweep and mounted it. He shot off toward the pitch, urging the broom to go faster. There was someone in the air, very high up, and they were very small, small enough to be first years, Harry tried to urge the broom faster, it just wasn't like his Firebolt.

The student on the broom lapped the pitch, they shot up vertically and then attempted to loop-the-loop. All at once time slowed down as child and broom separated. Harry's thoughts left him, no time for magic and spells. They were falling. They would land there. They were a snitch. Harry plummeted into a Wronsky Feint, pointing at where the student would be, and there they were, in his hold as he managed to pull out of the dive one-handed.

The small girl had fainted, as Harry's hearing came back he heard her friends in hysterics.

"Lucy! Oh Merlin! Lucy is she dead?"

Of course it was Lucy Frost, who else would it be? Harry shakily got off the broom; worried his suddenly weak arms wouldn't be able to hold the girl. Three other students ran over.

"What were you thinking?" He asked them.

One girl dropped to the ground and wailed another managed to talk through broken sobs.

"Sh-she said she needed to practice f-for t-t-t-t…" The girl had to catch her breath. "TOMORROW!" She began to wail too.

All the girls were first years, only one he recognized as Florence Montgomery, from his class that day, but not the others.

"Did one of you two steal this broom?" He asked them. He tried to recognize their houses from their ties, a green, silver and blue one, so a Slytherclaw and a pink and gold, a Moonfrog, he was surprised, Montgomery was a regular Gryffindor, she wasn't acting like it though.

"I'm taking her to the infirmary but first we have to take these brooms back to the shed."

"Can't it wait?" Asked the Slytherclaw.

"Apparently not." Harry said darkly and he gestured for the girls to pick up the brooms. He continued to carry Frost until they were all the way back at the broom shed, he got the girls to put the brooms inside and finally he was able to lock it and awkwardly place the charms whilst one hand cradled Frost, whom he suspected had woken up.

They walked back to the school through darkness and none of the witches said a word, only sniffled and hiccupped.

Finally inside the infirmary Harry explained everything he knew to Pomfrey, and then repeated the account to McGonagall. The headmistress tried to get information out of the girls but they simply broke down and she was forced to send them to bed.

Pomfrey came out from behind the curtain and whispered to Harry and McGonagall.

"The girl's awake, I doubt she ever really fainted to begin with, do you need to talk to her?"

McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Yes we most certainly do."

Toward the bed she marched, followed by Harry, to find Frost lying down, looking dazedly off to one side.

"Frost! Do you care to tell me how you got a hold of that broom?" McGonagall asked.

Frost looked at her as if only just recognizing her.

"Oh, headmistress! I'm afraid I can't remember all of it."

"Did and older student give it to you?"

"No!" Came a quick reply.

"Then one of your class mates?"

"No, no they didn't"

"So you must have taken it."

Frost gulped. "I must have." She said slowly.

Harry had the inkling she was lying but McGonagall took it as enough and turned to Harry triumphantly.

"There you are Harry, all yours to deal with."

"What!" Harry sputtered.

"She's in your house?"

"My house?"

"Oh yes, I was going to tell you that when you came to my office, you're head of Moonfrog house, it's been a complicated run but I think I've got a system to work, you're also head of Gryfferin."

Harry definitely didn't like the sound of that, Gryfferin students, manipulative and resourceful but not afraid of anything, especially not trouble.

Harry looked down at Frost's pink and gold tie with resentment.

"Am I in trouble professor?" Frost asked in a weak voice, large blue eyes welling with tears.

That wouldn't work on Harry, his heart was still pounding and bile still sat in his throat. Frost was a heedless force that needed to be stopped as soon as possible; she'd already almost got herself killed on the first day, what was that saying to the other students if he let her off?

"You have no idea how much trouble you're in Lucy Frost! Taking advantage of a vulnerable moment in class to steal school property and then breaking several school rules to make a spectacle of yourself and almost get killed! You're lucky I'm not expelling you."

"You're not?" She squeaked, face now pale from realizing her tears hadn't worked.

"No, it wouldn't be enough of an example! I need you here so every day students can remember that the school rules are there to keep them safe."

Lucy whimpered.

"I think Filch is getting tired in his old age, he's been through a lot this past year and no doubt he's in need of help, get used to having your breakfast early Frost because every day for the rest of the year you'll be helping him clean this school from dawn until the start of class."

Frost burst into tears and Harry felt like an evil git.

"And if anyone stops and asks you why you're doing it you tell them exactly what happened, that you stole and you risked your life and warn them that you were lucky that I let you off from expulsion and the next student I see in my house flaunting school rules I will send them home faster than they can say Quidditch."

Frost stopped crying and nodded her head. "Yes." She said shakily. "Thank you for not expelling me."

Harry nodded back and spun on his heal, swooping out of the room in such a perfect manner someone might have mistaken him for another dark-haired teacher who used to stalk within those same walls, but only if they squinted very hard.