Henry awoke with a groan.

Blinking his eyes furiously, he stood up from his desk. Strewn haphazardly across the desk were papers, some of which were graded, and others not. With a sigh, he picked up more papers he hadn't graded yet.

Grading papers sucks, he mused as he marked another paper. Easily the worst part of the job.

Henry was actually pretty disappointed at the latest batch of essays he'd assigned; the only one to come close to perfect marks was his sister, who he suspected might actually have an aptitude for Runes. That's not that unusual, though, Henry thought as he picked up yet another paper - Hermione Granger's paper. Scrolling through it, he grimaced, marked it, and moved on to another paper.

Argus Filch knocked on the door. Henry could tell instantly because Filch's knocks were pretty heavy-handed and thus distinctive. (Also, he had scrying runes etched into the door.) "Come in," he called, and Filch entered his office, holding a book in his hand. "Good morning, Argus," Henry greeted.

Filch's eyes were teeming with anger, and Henry wondered what on earth could have happened. "You lied to me."

"Huh?" Henry asked eloquently.

"You lied to me! You said I could do this magic stuff!" Filch shouted, throwing Henry's magician books back at him. Henry ducked and winced as it knocked against the wall.

"You should be able to," Henry calmly stated back. "All signs point to it, after all. What's the problem?"

"The problem?" Filch spat. "The problem is that it doesn't work. Half the damn things are too complicated, and the one I picked out should have been easy! But look!" Filch sat down and etched a runic array on some spare paper lying around. Henry watched intently as he put the finishing touches, and then...nothing. "See? It doesn't work!"

Henry looked at the diagram, and then back at Filch with a blank look on his face. "That's not an easy array." Filch's eyebrows twitched, and Henry continued, "First off, this diagram was designed as a puzzle for the book's readers, so they could figure out how it worked from the previous chapter's information alone. The problem is...here," Henry motioned for Filch to give him the quill, and then drew out additional runes on the paper. "You need to add the ley lines connecting nodes A and B, isolating certain aspects with conduits to neutralize stray magic. My seventh-year class went over this a few weeks ago, actually. From here, you have to intersperse the correct runes here and here. Now try."

Filch looked at it, confused, and Henry palmed his face. "I...never gave you the actuation kit, did I?" Filch shrugged, wondering what an actuation kit was, and Henry sighed. "Sorry about that." He pulled open a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a box. "Here - take this. It has instructions in the lid. Take a seat and work it out, okay? I have papers to grade." He also passed back the book, and Filch took both items with an unreadable expression on his face. Henry waved him off, and went back to marking papers.

A few minutes went by before Henry looked up at the glowing runic array on Filch's desk. He smiled. "I told you it'd wo-" he started, but was cut off by Filch's hug.

"IT WORKS!" Filch all but shouted. Henry winced, at both the loudness of his voice and the proximity of his body. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

"Ah - no prob - get off me, please," Henry all but whined, and Filch recoiled, stopping the hug with much embarrassment.

"...We talk about this to nobody," Filch all but demanded.

"Agreed," Henry said. "Now then, I'm almost done with papers. Why don't you...go and do something else?"

"Right," Filch agreed. "Should get back to my job." And with that, he hobbled out of the room, box and book in hand.

"...Never took him for a hugger," Henry mumbled. "Hm. Ah well."

Henry walked to the Headmaster's office for a meeting, stacks of papers under his arm, when suddenly he heard a trio of voices around the corner. He contemplated hiding, but then remembered that, wait, he's a Professor, he's allowed to be roaming the halls at this time. And, actually, curfew wasn't for another half an hour yet. Keeping that in mind, he strode purposefully towards the three voices.

"Oh. Hello, Ms. Granger," he greeted the bushy-haired girl. "I was going to talk to you after my class, but I suppose I can do it now."

Hermione looked to her two friends, before nodding.

"Look, your essay writing skills are atrocious. I'm going to get that out right now." He held up a hand to stall his student's complaints. "You write exactly what I want to see - and nothing more. I know you're smart. You know you're smart. But your essay certainly didn't give me proof that you know what the half-over theorem was about; it proved that you read the book. I don't want to see you writing paragraphs that could be ripped directly from a textbook, I want you to write it in a manner that proves to me that you know what you're talking about. Use examples.

"And the fact that you wrote double of what I assigned also directly harmed your grade. The limit was there for a reason, Ms. Granger - it was to challenge students to write more to elaborate their answer, yes, but it was also meant to challenge students like you to limit their words to a certain extent. Also," here Henry scratched the back of his head, "it was to give me less work. But, I digress.

"Your essay was marked Acceptable, and I think that even that is too high, but you should be striving for an Outstanding. I've given you many ideas how to improve your grade." Henry clasped her shoulder, ignoring her teary eyes. "And you know you're better than that. Do better next assignment, Ms. Granger."

Hermione paused in her sniffling long enough to ask, timidly, "Can I re-do the essay, sir?"

Henry rubbed the back of his neck, but eventually said, "No, I don't accept re-dos of assignments. It's in the course syllabus - I don't accept late or re-done work. But, ah, just...just do better next time. You're on your way to an Exceeds Expectations in my class."

He then turned to the black-haired boy. "Err...what's your name?"

"Harry, sir," he responded. "Harry Potter." He swept aside his hair, covering his forehead, and looked expectantly (and with a bit of dismay) towards Henry.

Now, had Henry been raised in Britain like he should have been, he would have heard all about the Boy-Who-Lived. But Henry was raised in isolated Japan, so the only reaction he gave was an honest nonchalance. "Okay. Mr. Potter, please ensure that Mr. Granger does the essays correctly. For example - she should be writing the essays in a way that even you could understand it after reading it, since I know you're not in my class. And..." he turned to the other boy, a red-haired, gangly boy who made Henry do a double-take. "...do I know you?"

"Um...no?" The red-haired boy looked honestly taken aback.

"No, I'm pretty sure..." Henry shook his head. "Ah, well. Hi, I'm Henry Greengrass, and I'm the Applied Runes teacher." He smiled. "Just in case you two didn't know who I was, and were thinking 'who's this loony talking to Hermione like that?'" He smiled at their light laughter. "Well, nice meeting you two, but I've got to go to a meeting. Come by my office some time if you have any interest in runes." With that, he walked away, towards the Headmaster's office.

Before he was completely out of earshot, though, he heard the red-headed boy tell his friends, "He's a bit barmy, isn't he?"

"I hope I didn't miss anything," Henry said as he opened the door.

"Ah, Professor Greengrass, good to see you," Dumbledore greeted cheerily as Henry sat down on a provided seat. "A bit late, but aren't we all eventually?"

"True, that," Henry smiled. "I had to talk with Ms. Granger about her essay; I met her while I was coming over here and figured, hey, let's kill two birds with one stone," he shrugged.

At the rest of the faculty's bemused expressions, he deadpanned, "It's a Muggle phrase."

"That's, ah, interesting," Dolores Umbridge said, and Henry shrugged again.

"Apparently I'm 'a bit barmy', according to Ms. Granger's red-headed friend. Oh," Henry blinked in surprise. "I didn't ask for his name. I just realized that."

"You're talking about Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked. Henry blinked.

"Weasley?" Henry tilted his head in thought. "Why is that familiar...? Bah," he waved it off after a moment's thought. "I'll remember some other time. Right now it's a meeting, right?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore calmly adjusted his half-moon spectacles. "Now, then, Professor Greengrass, since you're a bit late to the meeting and everyone else has already gone, let's talk about your class."

"What is there to say?" Henry asked rhetorically, then leaned back and made himself comfortable. "Other than the sub-par efforts of some un-notable students, I'm happy to report that nothing unusual has happened, except for, y'know." He waved a hand aimlessly. "The Slytherins consistently trying to undermine me, but they wouldn't be Slytherins if they didn't try. Honestly, I expect most of the seventh-year classes I teach to be well on their way to the Gold Standard of rune-crafting, which, for those of you who are unaware, is one of the higher internationally-recognized ratings in the runecraft system." All of the teachers unaware of the fact nodded their heads, including Albus himself but excluding Professor Babbling.

"Impressive," Dumbledore said, peering over his glasses. "Any...notable problems?"

"Not as far as I can tell," Henry said calmly. "I'm guessing my lessons really stick with the students. That, or they just aren't paying attention to someone like me."

"And what would that be?" Umbridge asked, in that sickening sweet voice of hers.

Henry blinked innocently. "A Squib, of course. Well," he said before anyone could say anything (but mostly to prevent Umbridge from saying anything). "I mean, I'm kind of not a Squib, but by the British Ministry's rules I totally am, although any international government would recognize me as, at the very least, a magician." He waved his hand in a certain fashion, and the desk lit up with runic patterns. As he spoke, pictures appeared hovering over the patterns, like science-fiction holograms. "Right now, my students in third year have learned about the very basics of the runic alphabet that they must learn. Fourth year students have, at this point, been learning about most of the theorems. Fifth- and sixth-year students are on their way to actually constructing runic arrays, and seventh-year students are learning about shorthand arrays. The plan is for all of the years to learn, but not necessarily utilize, shorthand arrays by the end of the term; seventh-years, of course, must be able to utilize them, as well as assorted information that is used to pass at least the Silver Standard." Henry waved his hand again, and the runic patterns disappeared. "That's the plan, anyway; who knows what could happen between now and the end of the term."

"I see," Dumbledore said, looking wholly interested, although the same could hardly be said for some of the other professors.

"But a Squib teaching runes," Umbridge protested. "Don't you think you should be suited for more...appropriate tasks?"

"I'm a magician," Henry stressed. "I'm also the youngest Rune Master in millenia, I'll have you know, and I've passed the Diamond Standard twice, the first time purely on accident. I've done work with Gringotts, for Merlin's sake. I'm fairly certain I'm well-equipped to be a professor, at the very least, Miss Umbridge." He smiled, masking his growing anger. "Unless you know someone with better credentials than me?" He tilted his head challengingly.

"I - well -" Umbridge froze, realizing his words, and then meekly said, "Of course not, Professor Greengrass. I was simply curious."

Henry nodded curtly but didn't say anything more.

Dumbledore realized that was the end of his report and continued with the meeting. Henry sat back and listened.

Sitting in his desk in the office, Henry mused over the information he recieved in the meeting. Evidently, Umbridge and Dumbledore didn't like each other - of course, the reason was obvious, with the Ministry's unfounded paranoia and Dumbledore's sheer eccentricity, but Henry felt like something wasn't adding up.

There was a knock on the door. Henry checked his runic arrays and found Umbridge to be the reason. "Come in," Henry said, but mentally he was berating himself for allowing that.

Umbridge entered the room, and sat down on the chair as if she owned the place. Henry sniffed the air. Strong perfume. "Professor Greengrass, I have been hearing reports of your giving detention to certain Slytherins?"

"Which ones?" Henry asked. "Because quite a few of them are fine students."

Umbridge gave a list, and Henry snorted. Trust her to be sticking up for the rich ones.

"This is true," Henry allowed. "I usually assign them because of disruptions in my lectures."

"Why not send them to me?" Umbridge asked, voice falsely sweet. "I can ensure that they cause no disruptions."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Not to offend you or anything, ma'am, but I think I can handle it myself."

"Of course, of course," Umbridge simpered. Henry had to fight to stop his face from showing his incredulity.

Instead, face entirely blank and voice carefully modulated, Henry asked, "Is there something you need, ma'am?"

"Well, if it's not too much trouble, could you check on some enchantments I have?" Henry gave up on fighting his face and instead openly gaped. "It was manufactured, of course."

"Ahh..." Henry chuckled. "Not to offend you or anything, but the way you phrased that..."

"Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that I knew what I was doing," Umbridge chuckled. "I'll be honest: I have no idea what I did wrong." She pulled out what looked like a broken clock, and Henry peered into it. "I was trying to clean it a few days ago, but it broke."

Henry turned the device around in his hands. He opened up his drawer, pulled out his omnioculars, and turned them on to examine the device. After about three minutes, he took off the omnioculars and put down the device. "I could, theoretically. You'd need to get me some supplies, but I can definitely repair this," Henry finally said.

"Oh, thank you," Umbridge said, obviously relieved. Before Henry could ask why, she continued, "It's actually a family heirloom, you see, but I noticed it getting dirty and so I tried to clean it. I don't know what happened, but it broke. I'm happy to see that it can be fixed."

Henry looked at the device again. "Yeah. No problem. I'll leave it here for now, then?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Umbridge said, rising from her chair. "Thank you so much, again."

"Not a problem," Henry waved. "Just, ah, hold on one second." He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down some parts he needed. "This is a list of parts I might need. I think you'll find them rather easily; they're pretty common, except the mainspring."

"Thank you again," Umbridge said, bowing lightly in what Henry assumed to be a curtsy. Henry nodded.

After she left, Henry blinked, then looked at the device on the desk. Family heirloom, huh? He opened it up and saw the Selwyn coat of arms enscribed on the inside. How interesting.

There was another knock on the door. Henry activated the runes again, and saw it was a student named Harry Potter.

"Come in," he said, and the door creaked open. Out stepped that same scrawny black-haired kid that Henry saw only an hour before, before the meeting. "Hello, Mr. Potter, did you need anything?"

"I, um, I was just wondering..." He looked at the device on Henry's desk. "What is that?"

"This?" Henry turned it around. "It's a clock; apparently it's one of Miss Umbridge's family heirlooms." He noticed Harry's distaste, since it showed clearly on his face, and chuckled. "I honestly didn't expect to be able to have a civil conversation with her, but there it was."

"But...why?" Harry asked, and Henry shrugged.

"It's just the way things work," he said. "Incidentally, the Greengrass and Selwyn families were united, once upon a time. They branched off after the head of the Selwyn family banished the soon-to-be-head of the Greengrass family from the Selwyn line for refusing to support the practice of Dark Arts on children." He smiled. "Just a bit of history for you. It was a long time ago, back before even Hogwarts."

"What's the Selwyn family?" Harry blinked, nonplussed.

Henry smiled. "Dolores Umbridge is related to them."

"Ew," Harry made a face. "I didn't need to know that."

Henry grinned, then sobered. "What do you need, Mr. Potter?"

"I, um - don't tell Ron, please, he'll never let me live it down - but I'm interested in runes."

Henry blinked. "Why?"

"Ron would never stop mocking me for being a bookworm," Harry admitted. "He does it to Hermione, and I don't think I could handle it, honestly." Henry blinked.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mean it if he was your friend, but, I mean...why are you interested in runes?"

"Because..." Harry thought for a minute. "I need to beat Voldemort." He blinked. "You...didn't flinch?"

"...should I?" Henry asked. "Is there a reason?"

"Well, most people flinch whenever someone says Voldemort's name. That's why everyone calls him You-Know-Who."

"Who?"

"You-Know-Who."

"Apparently I don't. Who is that?"

"...Voldemort."

"Okay." Henry leaned forward. "So...why do you need to beat this... Mr. Mort?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Is it Mr. Mort or Mr. de Mort? I was never good at French names, honestly," Henry rambled as Harry blinked. "Well, don't need to look so confused, his first name's Vol, right?"

Harry laughed, then, sudden and jubilant, and Henry blinked.

"I never thought of it like that! Vol de Mort, I think Dumbledore should hear that!"

Henry blinked again. "Right. Well." He leaned back in his chair. "You need to beat Mr. de Mort, and you're expecting...what? A shortcut? Runes are hard, Mr. Potter. Your friend Ms. Granger...you think she's smart? Because she's middling in my class. Barely above average student." At Harry's sudden paling, Henry explained. "Admittedly, she seems to understand the concepts in class, but when it comes down to writing it on paper, her examples never actually show that understanding. So I don't know if that's just how she is, or..." He shrugged. "But anyway. You'd have to sacrifice many precious hours to study runes, especially since you'd be behind by two years."

"I'm a fast learner, I learned the Patronus in six months" Harry said firmly, but Henry shook his head.

"I don't care. I don't even know what the Patronus is. You'd need to thoroughly understand two years of concepts before you can even get started on practicals, which is why the OWL exam doesn't focus on practical work so much as theory. If you can't handle that then I suggest you give up now, since, if you sign up for Applied Runes now I'd have to give you three textbooks and you'd have to read through them in..." He looked outside; it wasn't quite snowing yet. "Nine months or so. And they're not small textbooks, either. It's difficult work, and you'll be in an integrated course with your friend Ms. Granger and a whole host of people in your year from other houses."

Harry blinked, then nodded firmly. "I'll try my best."

Henry sighed. "You're really interested in runes, huh?" At his nod, he asked, "Why?"

Harry blushed. Henry raised an eyebrow, and he explained, "Well, I think you're really cool."

Henry blinked.

"I sincerely hope those aren't your only reasons. I spent most of my life studying runes so I could be as good as I am now."

"Yeah, but..." Harry waved his arms around. "You do so much magic! You're not even bothered by most of it like Filch, and your magic is wandless! It might just be the thing I need to beat Volde...Mr. de Mort!"

"I'm not bothered by it because I'm a Greengrass, Mr. Potter," Henry noted. "I'm the heir to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families that all pureblooded families know. More than that, I lived in a rune society during all of my childhood, occasionally coming back for lessons from my father, so I'm barely familiar with wizarding Britain. I wasn't even aware that it was an issue that I'm wandless."

Harry took all this in with wide eyes. "Oh. That's why you didn't know who Voldemort was."

Henry nodded. "I take it he's important, though."

"He's the whole reason I'm famous," Harry said, although Henry could see the frustration on his face. "He's a man who's pure evil, and he killed my parents when I was a baby. And I thought he died when he failed to kill me, because Dumbledore says the curse rebounded off of me, but he came back last year and..." He trailed off, choking up. "He killed Cedric," Harry finally muttered, willing his tears to not fall.

Henry's eyes softened in sympathy, and he got off his chair and went around his desk to hug the boy in front of him. "It's not your fault."

"If I didn't..." Harry was definitely about to cry. Henry activated his silencing runes with a wave of his hand, and then continued to hold Harry.

"Listen to me. It's not your fault." Henry said, sternly. "I don't care who thinks that it is, as long as you know that it's not your fault. Because it isn't."

"How do you know?" Harry asked, almost desperately, and Henry could see the fear, desperation and self-loathing in his green eyes.

Henry had seen those eyes before, except in blue. He saw it frequently whenever he looked in the mirror.

"Because...I know what it's like," Henry finally said. "To have everyone against you for something out of your control. To have people dying for you to live. It really sucks. But, you know?" He looked at Harry, who was looking up at him with wide eyes. "They died for you to live. That means you're the hopes and dreams and love of more than one person." He smiled. "And it's good, because that way you're never truly alone. But it's bad, because it hurts, and it's hard to keep living sometimes. But that's what life's about, the bad and the good, you can't have one without the other." He looked away from Harry, and withdrew his arm. "It hurts to live, but you gotta get out of bed in the mornings, because those people who died for you wouldn't like it if you just gave up, y'know?" He walked silently back to his desk, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye.

As he sat down, he said, "So. I'll talk to McGonagall, you talk to your friend Hermione. Or my sister Daphne, if you can get in contact with her; I know that Gryffindors and Slytherins don't get along, but she's currently my best student in your year for reasons I don't even know." Henry shrugged. "Yeah. There's your options, Harry. Good luck, and welcome to Applied Runes."