THE NEW DADA TEACHER
Wendy put down the newspaper and heaved a long sigh.
The Great Hall was almost empty at this hour. Most students had finished having breakfast and were already heading to their classrooms. The sun was streaming through the huge windows and gently warmed the old tiles and the tables studded with bread crumbs and drops of milk.
Someone cavalierly placed a cerulean porcelain cup filled with hot tea in front of Wendy and sat on the opposite bench.
- "Hi", Lily said, dropping a muffin and a satin pouch next to the cup.
Her hair was pinned up with a yellow butterfly.
- "Hello", Wendy answered, a little embarrassed, putting her elbows on the newspaper to hide the front page.
Lily casually waved her wand and made the sugar bowl come to her, not worrying the slightest about the big round eyes of the first year boy who was helping himself at that time.
- "Any idea where my bro could be?" asked the young red-haired girl lightly, while breaking four pieces of sugar and sending them sliding along the handle of the spoon into her tea.
- "No", Wendy replied, sincerely sorry. "I haven't seen him or Terrence since five PM yesterday. And Craig Finnigan says Scorpius also has disappeared ... It's weird."
- "Um", Lily said.
And she bit into the blueberry muffin as if it did not really matter.
Wendy picked up her fork and pushed aside a small pile of beans. She played a bit with what remained of the sausage without motivation. The sun's rays were dancing like golden flies on the wooden table, passing through her orange juice.
- "Yo", said another voice, and a plate packed with scones and buttered toasts was placed on her left.
James stepped over the bench to sit, his Standard Book of Spells Level 6 tucked under his left armpit and the jam saucer in his right hand.
- "What are you doing here, JS: skipping class?" asked his sister, her mouth full.
The young man shrugged. He brought the pitcher of milk and a mug to him - narrowly avoiding the head of a Prefect who glared at him - and took the time to drink before answering.
- "Trelawney's sick", he said finally, wiping his white foam mustache. "I don't really get why... a great disturrrrbance in the threads of maaagic happened last night ... blablablah."
Wendy giggled.
- "Anyway, I hadn't gotten any breakfast, so I took the opportunity", he added.
He spread an indecent layer of raspberry jelly on a toast, absently blowing on the brown bangs that fell over his eye. He had rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, the collar of his shirt was slightly open and his Gryffindor tie undone. The ever so slight stubble on the masculine lines of his jaw and his wide shoulders were explaining a lot why so many girls fancied him.
James Sirius Potter was sixteen and he was handsome, that was a fact.
He was also popular, athletic, smart – a mocker, arrogant, elitist.
He was not mean, but he could quickly get on your nerves. Wendy did not like him very much, and the feeling was mutual.
- "Any idea where our bro might be?" he asked nonchalantly, shoveling down his bread.
- "Not since yesterday", repeated Wendy.
If she had not been so worried herself, she would have found it very amusing.
Both Potter siblings going fishing for info...
In the end, Albus matters more to them than they show it...
Lily took a sip of tea then opened the pouch. She took out a small vial and unscrewed it.
James' eyebrows narrowed.
- "What's that?" he asked with his mouth full.
- "Muggle nail polish. Beth Drevor lent it to me", his sister replied, not looking up, busy painting in pistachio green her thumbnail. "I tried to bewitch it so it would apply on itself, but this brush's really daft."
There was a silence - during which James gobbled down two scones and the rest of his milk - then Lily blew on her nails and winced, discovering a notch her little finger.
- "It'd be nice if Al reappeared quickly. I have a score to settle with him", she said under her breath. "Mom had a fight with Dad because of him."
- "It's not because she cries once that they are getting a divorce like Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione", groaned James who did not look quite so sure of it, though.
- "Pff. You know nothing", retorted his sister.
Wendy nibbled her lips.
- "Are you ... uh ... very close to your mother?"
Lily's eyes blazed.
- "Yes. Fortunately. With James who only cares for his popularity, Albus who has no more existence than a spasmophilic clabbert and Dad who thinks only of his career, there's got to be somebody who cares for her!"
Wendy hurried to interrupt James before the discussion would gangrene.
- "You're lucky", she said. "I don't really get along with my stepmother, so ... I think it's cool you're close."
James looked at her with curiously for a few seconds - while Lily mumbled something about Wendy who'd look better without her fringe pinned up - then he sighed.
- "That smarty-pants bloke who hangs out with Al… You don't know where he is either?"
The girl shook her head.
- "No, and that's exactly why I'm worried. If Albus was sick, he'd be in the infirmary and Terrence would take notes for him. But neither of them came to supper last night and Craig Finnigan said they didn't sleep in their room. And this morning, Professor Longbottom canceled all his classes..."
- "Maybe the teachers just want to avoid Al wandering in the hallways until the rumors dissipate", James said. "I get that. I already had to shut off Thomas Anderson and his Slytherin mates who thought they could call my father a murderer."
Lily shrugged.
- "Well, I'm sure Helen Jones is still trying to undo the knots in her hair, that wench... but frankly, we were doing fine on our own, I don't see why the teachers would consider it necessary to protect Al."
Wendy clenched her fists.
- "You didn't see his face when the boggart was saying Avada, Avada ... something!" she protested. "Everyone was so shocked. Mr. Longbottom looked so crossed with Curtis, and Albus threw up."
James and Lily at the decency to look a bit uneasy.
- "Um", the brother said.
- "What is it you were trying to hide in the newspaper?" asked the sister.
Wendy blushed.
She grabbed her long chestnut ponytail and smoothed the tips nervously.
- "It's not that I wanted to hide anything, it's just ... if I were you, I wouldn't like people reading stuff about my family in the Daily Prophet."
James rolled his eyes and Lily took the newspaper.
- "We're used to it", said the young man. "It's even worse since Dad started doing politics..."
He leaned over the table to read the same time as his sister, not noticing his sleeve was in the jam saucer. Lily's tea was getting cold. The elves were cleaning the breakfast leftovers, glancing at them from time to time.
Apart from them three, only remained a third year girl with her arm in a sling, who was slurping up her pancackes, and two seventh-grade boys who were playing chess hidden behind piles of books.
Newspaper pages creaked a little.
TWENTY YEARS LATER
THE SURVIVOR CASTS AN UNFORGIVABLE CURSE
ON HIS OWN SON
He is embarrassed, or should we say, afflicted.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, winner of You-Know-Who and more than likely to be our next Minister of Magic, receives us in his comfortable office and offers us a very strong Chinese tea, "just like my wife likes to have hers, "he adds a little sadly. One must wonder indeed what Mrs. Potter thinks of the incident that happened during Defense Against the Dark Arts classes at Hogwarts. Albus Severus Potter, the second son of the hero, was training to face a Boggart. The child suddenly saw his own father standing in front of him with the obvious intent of murdering him.
"I never wanted to kill my son", counters the Secretary of the Minister with the same passion as when he was announcing the return of the Dark Lord. "Albus was in danger, I had to react quickly. He was six and doesn't remember well what I did. The curse was not directed at him but meant to stop what was attacking him at the time: a Graphorn!"
The assailant was a considerable challenge, yes, but our reporter wonders: Why launch an unforgivable curse, when you defeated Lord Voldemort with a simple Expelliarmus, your signature?"
The Survivor gives us a painful and reproach look.
"It was ten years ago, as an Auror we were often facing ex-Death Eaters. I was terrified that my son would get hurt, that day. I hexed the first thing that came to my mind to protect him."
What a reflex. Fortunately it was not a human being in the firing line...
"The news coming from Islay are terribly disturbing. There is talk of an independence movement of the Hebrides, of violent riots led by Bercelak MacFusty and it may well be that the Aurors will be sent into battle to support the National Force. Will you be using the unforgivable curses against our enemies then?" asks our reporter.
"We are not at war; this is a simple misunderstanding that can be resolved in a reasonable way, through negotiations. And I would never use such spells against people or magical creatures!" the Secretary of the Minister protests indignantly.
"They say Kingsley Shacklebolt gave you - or to be more precise, perhaps: ordered you - to take a few months off before your application to be minister is again proposed. What are your plans for these impromptu holidays?"
Harry Potter does not want to tell us about his projects. Our reporter expresses the wish he will reconcile with his wife, Ginevra Weasley-Potter, who was seen in tears yesterday as she left the premises of the Ministry of Magic (see our interview with Mr. Fumetti, candied chestnuts street vendor, on page 4).
Our interview with the Survivor comes to an end. Reports are piling up on his desk and the director of the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, Mrs Hermione Granger, knocks at the door with some more paperwork. We only have one last question before shaking the hand of the Secretary of the Minister.
"You have two other children besides Albus Severus, who are currently schooled in Hogwarts. Do you think this scandal will affect their education?"
Harry Potter walks us off politely but firmly.
"My children have no reason to worry. I have done nothing wrong and I think the wizarding community will agree. I wish my son Albus will be left in peace and that nothing will again stir up a memory that had been thankfully forgotten."
Words that are doubtlessly coming from a father's mouth. This will certainly reassure our readers who were concerned to see the government soon entrusted into the care of a man capable of casting an Unforgivable Curse onto his own flesh.
But one question remains: how a child so young could be left unattended in the vicinity of such a dangerous creature? Family outings with the Potters decidedly seem worthy of a novel.
Daphne Mordecrat,
Special Envoy for the 'Daily Prophet'
The newspaper was crumpled in Lily's hands when they were done reading.
- "Bloody idiots", James muttered, sitting down again.
Wendy fiddled anxiously with the carbuncle on her left ear.
- "Well, at least we know he didn't want to kill him", she tried.
Lily snorted.
- "A Graphorn! That's all he could come up with ... rubbish. As if this kind of creatures lived near Ottery-St. Catchpole ! Tch. Mum didn't know, she'd have found a better idea."
Alarmed, Wendy sat up.
- "What, do you mean it's not true? But your father, then..."
James slouched on the bench, his face darkening.
- "Our father's been lying to us from the beginning. And I don't think he's the only one..."
oOoOoOo
Minerva McGonagall breathed in deeply, her hands joined in front of her mouth, then dignifiedly put her trembling fists in the pockets of her robe and lifted up her chin. Her high dark green wimple underlined her thin face. Her smooth white hair was pulled back in a neat bun.
- "I'm too old for this", she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.
Neville Longbottom hesitated then put his hand awkwardly on her shoulder. His robe hung on his collarbones like an old coat and his brown hair was a mess. He was a lot taller than the director of Hogwarts, but stood like a shy boy next to her.
Leaning against the wall, in the shadows, a man had his arms crossed and a foot pressed against the old stones. He was watching with an impassive gaze, but his bright eyes registered to the smallest detail.
- "Shouldn't we cast a forgetting spell on the two boys?" Neville asked softly.
Mrs McGonagall's powdered cheeks quivered and the wrinkles on her forehead creased even deeper.
- "I…"
- "Here he comes", Hannah Abbot interrupted, walking in the scene.
She stepped aside, like the others, and let go of her long blue dress she had pleated up to climb the stairs.
Harry Potter stepped into the dimly lit room. The thin black beard he was growing since he had entered politics brought out his sallow complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. He was still wearing the suit he had on the picture of the Daily Prophet front page. His shoes and the bottom of his pants were caked in mud.
- "He apparated outside the castle and ran all the way to here", Hannah explained in a low voice. "I think he didn't understand we had opened the Floo network for him..."
Harry's face contorted and he brought a hand to his chapped lips. Neville moved closer to him.
- "I'm sorry", he whispered.
Harry tried to swallow but only succeeded in half choking.
- "It looks like... like him ... the fourth or the fifth day ... he looked pretty much like that..."
The man in the dark corner of the room nodded.
- "I ... uh ... all I could do was enchanting the bed, meanwhile", explained Neville in an unsteady voice. "Hannah gave the boys a potion to make them sleep so they haven't stirred since last night - except for him. He… changes back and forth. It's quite random. Sometimes he comes out for an hour, sometimes only five minutes and then nothing for three hours."
Harry hurt to the point he could barely breathe.
- "It's not your fault, Harry", Neville stammered, throwing a distress glance in the direction of the man in the shadows, who made no move to help.
- "You didn't know this would happen", whispered Minerva McGonagall fervently. "I'm sure you would have made a different choice."
Harry turned to her and for a moment his face relaxed a little. He gave an affectionate look to the old lady - her old-fashioned sleeves, her back that time had hunched a bit, her pinched nose on which were perched glasses that looked a lot like Dumbledore's. She looked so much smaller, so much frailer than when he was a student at Hogwarts...
He smiled to the very clear blue eyes staring at him anxiously and gathered his courage.
- "Thank you, Professor", he answered simply. "But if I had to do it all over again, I would take exactly the same decision."
He did not wipe the lone tear running down his cheek and turned again towards the dragon that was asleep, curled up on a large blackened stump, his muzzle tucked under his wing. There were beds on each side of the window of which curtains were drawn. In one slept Terrence, his glasses pushed up on his forehead, his mouth ajar, and in the other was Scorpius, frowning in his sleep, curled up in his rumpled uniform.
- "The young Malfoy was the first to see him, isn't it?"
- "Yes", Neville nodded. "Which was a good thing. The Boggart showed that Swanson was terrified of dragons."
There was pride in his voice as he continued.
- "But he overcame his fear since then. Incredible ! He held Albus' hand the next time he metamorphosed, until it became a big hairy paw. Scorpius was very brave too. I just wish he hadn't rushed to tell Albus what happened to him before we had the time to prepare him for… well, that."
- "I wasn't fast enough to stop him", grumbled the man in the dark corner.
His voice startled Harry who turned to him incredulously.
- "W-when did you arrive?"
- "Last night", the man said with a grin. He came to Harry and put his arm on his shoulders. "We'll have plenty of things to teach my nephew and I think I'm the best person for that kind of business!"
Albus' father smiled weakly.
- "Thank you…"
He turned back to the dragon and closed his eyes for a moment.
Do you hear me? You talked to me, a long time ago. I did what you asked of me ... now, explain. Why this? What do we have to do?
There was no answer.
In the darkness, he could only hear the quiet snore of the sleeping dragon.
- "I tried that too", muttered Charlie. "But it doesn't work. Maybe it's because this is Albus. Or maybe the dragon's too young to communicate like he used to. We'll see in time..."
The stocky man friendly squeezed Harry's shoulder then turned to the others.
- "First of all, we need to teach him to control the metamorphosis."
Like an echo to his words, a swarm of glittering sand swirled behind him and the teenager reappeared while sheets grew on the stump and it became a bed again.
- "I'll never get used to it", croaked Minerva McGonagall, a diaphanous hand clutching her chest.
She cleared her throat and her eyebrows arched like in the old days, when she was teaching.
- "Now. How do we proceed? Some classes were already canceled today, so I planned on giving the students the rest of day off. But school will have to resume to its routine if we do not want to attract more attention from the press. I will announce tomorrow morning your appointment to be the teacher of Care of Magical Creatures, Mr. Weasley, and yours to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Mr. Potter. With this, your presence in Hogwarts will be perfectly justified."
She paused. Then she added, almost shyly:
- "Will a day be enough?"
Charlie Weasley ran a hand over his balding hairline, glancing at the three sleeping boys then he grinned.
- "I think so."
He waited until the old lady and Hannah were gone to puff his cheeks and let his face fall to a much less confident look.
- "That is, if Albus is an Animagus. Because if he's not, we'll have to understand how and why he turns into a dragon. And traumatized as he is, I don't think it'll be easy for the poor lad. First of all…"
Harry cut him off.
- "First, I think I need to have a good chat with him. There's a long story I have to tell him."
Neville nodded.
- "What about the other two?"
- "We'll wipe their memories", Charlie said firmly. "Not necessarily those of their friendship with Al, but at least those of the last two days."
TBC
Next chapter: He just needed to be loved