AN Sorry for the late upload! Hit a snag in the creative flow, have three days off so I figured I'd upload now instead of waiting until tomorrow, as always thank you big time to my betas, go check out Gamer0980 and Palkey's fics, and stop by the Flowerpot Discord - discord .gg/ cyfAv3PgZH - tell Red that Jay sent ya!
Chapter 7
Harry hated crowds.
This was a new aspect of his personality, developed in absentia, after years of desolate streets and shells of homes. Now suddenly everything was so crowded and loud, and it put him on edge.
He sat wedged between Hagrid and Sprout, wishing his wine was whiskey and impatiently awaiting the feast so he could return to his quarters. Hundreds of students, even sitting quietly through a sorting ceremony, made a low murmur of pervasive sound that kept his blood pressure up.
"Wolpert, Nigel!"
McGonagall called the last boy's name and a nervous looking strawberry blonde approached the stool to be sorted. Harry squinted at the back of his head as he sat under the hat, trying to recall the student, but so many of the incoming first years seemed unfamiliar to him.
"Gryffindor!" the hat declared after a moment's deliberation, and suddenly Harry remembered seeing the kid tagging along with Dennis Creevey in his school years.
They were both Gryffindor first years this year. He supposed he should have remembered, but most of the Harry's memories of the Creevys were locked behind the image of Collin's lifeless body in the great hall.
His old house table roared and thundered their approval of their final new member as he scurried toward them, and Dumbledore stood in the wake of their celebration.
"Now before we tuck in, a few announcements. Beginning this year, we will be offering two new elective classes," Dumbledore said, and Harry knew this was his cue to prepare to stand. "These courses, as trials, are not standardized by the ministry in O. or N.E. . They are for your edification alone." Harry stood and Dumbledore gestured to him. "Professor Potter-"
The great oak doors of the hall burst open, with a conveniently timed crack of thunder, and all eyes turned to watch the limping figure of Mad-Eye Moody enter the room. Harry remained standing, watching with the rest, as the enemy knight entered the chessboard. He exchanged words with the headmaster, who for his part played the role of old friend to this imposter perfectly, and then Crouch limped over to the side of the room near the head table and leaned against the wall.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued, pulling the students' focus off the newcomer. "Professor Potter will be teaching Enchanting to any student enrolled in ancient runes from third to fifth year. For N.E.W.T students in runes, he will be teaching wardcraft. See your heads of house for scheduling should you wish to attend."
Harry sat, glad his role in the meal was over. Moody was introduced, and Harry noted that they received the same general smattering of murmurs. One a famous Auror, one seemingly just out of school himself, both heavily scarred.
Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't a little excited now, uncomfortable feast aside. The game had begun, all the pieces were in place, and best of all his opponent didn't know he was playing. Not yet at least.
Dumbledore finished up his announcements and the feast arrived. Harry picked turkey and potatoes, skipping the gravy, and wondered if his appetite and tolerance for rich foods would ever return. He picked at it as he surveyed the students, who had burst into a roar of sound now that they were free to do so.
He winced everytime an excited voice rose out of the din. The shrill exclamation of a girl at the Hufflepuff table transformed in his ear into a cry of agony. A laugh across the room became the mad cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange.
The feast couldn't end soon enough.
He was out of his seat the moment the Headmaster dismissed the students, but the congested river of bodies congregating at the doors looked like his own personal hell. He set off for the door behind the head table leading into the small trophy room instead. The very one in which the Triwizard Champions would be meeting one another in two months time.
Anything to escape the noise, really.
He was caught before he could make it to safety, though. Near the end of the table, just as Crouch was turning to observe his approach, a hand reached up and caught his arm.
Professor Sinestra, still seated next to Madam Hooch, smiled up at him. "Off to pilfer the kitchens?"
Her tone was light, eyes teasing, but they sobered at something she read on his face. It was hard to return her smile, but he did his best, and shook his head.
"Not tonight I don't think," he said, trying to sound regretful, "I'm absolutely knackered."
She nodded, releasing his arm, and he got the impression he didn't do as good a job as he'd wanted at seeming casual. He turned and continued on his path toward escape, meeting the false Moody's eye and nodding at the end of the row before he turned and slipped out of the hall.
He didn't have to wait long.
Not two minutes after he made it into the dim and quiet space the door opened once more. The uneven step-clunk pattern of Moody's gate preceded Crouch joining him in his sanctuary.
"Not a fan of crowds?" Crouch asked, in a way that wasn't a question, and took a swig from his potion flask when Harry shook his head. "Me neither, but it's the perfect place to keep your eye on the whole school."
His magical eye swiveled back toward the great hall for emphasis and Harry chuckled.
"Perfect place to hide in plain sight too," Harry said, crossing to the man and extending a hand. "Though we don't have much to worry about until Durmstrang shows up, I reckon."
Crouch gave him an appraising look, nodding gruffly at the insinuation, "Aye, I reckon you're right lad. Alastor."
They shook hands and 'Moody" leaned back, supporting himself on his staff.
"Well, you weren't one of mine," he continued, his real eye scanning Harry's scars. "Asia?"
Harry nodded, relaxing ever so slightly. He could maintain this charade, the last worries of interfacing with the death eater in disguise faded as Moody's scarred visage adopted a look almost resembling respect.
"Cambodia," Harry said, gesturing to his long scar, "cursed knife."
Crouch nodded approvingly. "Exciting stuff that was, a shame I was retired."
He even managed to emulate Alastor's particular brand of battle lust, Harry was begrudgingly impressed.
"Exciting's one word for it," he said darkly, dredging up memories of a different conflict altogether, to add weight to the words. Crouch hummed an agreement, and silence fell between the two combatants for a moment.
Harry was sure the magical eye was trained in him, so he didn't openly inspect the imposter. The sounds from the great hall were diminishing, the mass of students largely filtered out, and Harry deemed it safe to escape the trophy room and make it up to his rooms.
"Well, good night Professor," he said with a glance.
"Aye, night," Crouch replied gruffly, "oh and Potter? Stay on your toes."
Harry smiled privately to himself, "Constantly."
-o-o-o-
Harry lowered his wand, the final runes Hermione had taught him etching themselves into the stone in the ground. He sighed, exhausted, and felt a warm hand capture his own. He looked down at Ginny and gave her a weak smile.
"That'll do it, I think," he said, giving the New Plymouth community's wardstone another once over.
She squeezed his hand and nodded up at him, "this is a great day for the resistance," she assured him and her words gave him a bit of strength. Enough to turn and face the collected witches and wizards that he'd convinced to move here to staff the haven.
Seamus and Hannah were at the front of the pack, his old school friends, and they gave him nods as he turned to them. Their looks told him he didn't need to give them reassurance. He pressed on, moving through the pack with Ginny at his side. He stopped at professor Flitwick, who turned from the muggle parents he was consoling and beamed at Harry.
"Well done my boy!" the diminutive half-goblin exclaimed, making up for his size in excess cheer, Harry smiled at the excitable man.
"Please look over the spells professor," he said, jerking his head toward the wardstone, the first Harry'd created in such a manner. The most concrete protections he'd ever attempted to lay over a place, securities second only to the Fidelius Charm.
"Of course Harry, of course, but I'm sure you've done a marvelous job." He smiled at his former professor and moved on, coming to Bill and Fleur.
"Picked a room yet?" Ginny asked, throwing a brotherly punch into Bill's arm. He stepped back, miming a devastating blow, and rubbed his shoulder as he replied:
"Just about, we're weighing the benefits of north-facing windows," he laughed at his baby sister's roll of the eyes and Harry stepped forward to engage the less genial half of their duo.
"Thank you," he said to Fleur, adopting sincerity in the face of her less-than-impressed gaze. "Shell Cottage will be the safest place for the kids, and the muggle community will rest easier knowing they are among their own."
The beautiful Weasley Veela looked at him with a face devoid of emotion for a moment before she simply said, "I 'ope you are right."
Bill overshadowed her apprehension with a lively exclamation, pulling the focus of the group of mixed people standing before the whitestone block of flats. "Welcome home everybody!"
He threw an arm around his wife, and she turned away from Harry and Ginny begrudgingly, to be led into their new home.
-o-o-o-
Harry drifted lazily from sleep, the dream fading into the soft murmurs of the Plymouth community's populace as they congregated around their new home.
It was not an enlightening dream, not even a well kept memory, apart from the guilt associated with it. He hadn't had a dream, mundane or otherwise, since his last visit to the not-so-distant past. This dream had the opposite effect, he turned over in his sheets and buried his head in the pillows, trying to return to sleep's embrace and wash it away.
He did not leap from bed to transcribe any new geometries gleaned from the wardstone. He was not determined to capture the confidence of Ginny in a portrait, and he had no interest whatsoever in documenting the distrustful gaze of Fleur.
Harry extracted himself from bed an hour later, well after breakfast, and washed himself of reminiscence in the showers. The students were absorbed in their first period classes. It was Wednesday, the third day of term, and he had his first class today.
By the time he was dressed he was able to fully shake himself of the bittersweet dream and prepare himself for his first real day of teaching. Dobby brought a breakfast for him at his request, and though it still included a full English spread he couldn't stomach, it was devoid of his often untouched tea. That was progress as far as he was concerned. He sipped the coffee as he reviewed his notes, nervously adjusting the items on display at his desk when the second period bell tolled through the halls.
Students poured from their classrooms, spilling into the halls. He knew that some of them were coming solely to gawk at the new professor. The thought had him adjusting his tie and clearing his throat as he paced up and down the classroom.
Hermione came first, because of course she did, and it was a heavy blow to his heart.
His bushy-haired friend from another life condensed from the crowd in the halls and passed into the room without stopping to inspect the entryway, and he smiled to himself as she came up short face-to-face with him.
"Hello," he greeted warmly, sweeping his hand from behind his desk, "sit wherever you'd like."
She only hesitated for a moment, and he realized her pause was likely due to his scarred visage more than anything, but she found a spot in the first row of desks and heaved her book-laden bag onto the table.
"Good morning professor," she said with deliberate brightness, and Harry reeled from a strange blend of deja vu and relief.
He could remember with perfect clarity the way in which the old Hermione handled teachers, and yet despite that, his own anxieties and apprehension were powerless in the face of her enthusiastic presence in his class.
Hermione Granger could simultaneously take the edge off and raise the bar in a class from her sheer presence alone. The Patil twins entered next, followed by a steady trickle of students, mostly Ravenclaws, but a good enough mix. Neville, Cho, and Dean were there, as well as less familiar faces from his childhood like Marcus Belby and Daphne Greengrass. The latter was the only Slytherin that arrived by the time the warning bell chimed.
The halls were clearing, and he straightened from his desk to begin, when little Luna Lovegood wandered in. She peered at him with unashamed curiosity, the same vaguely surprised look she cast around the class before resting on him. Her eyes openly traced the line of his scar, she blinked owlishly at him, and drifted to her desk with a singsong "hello professor~"
"Okay," he said through a grin and cleared his throat. "So, first things first."
He gestured to the dragonskin wand holster levitating over his desk.
"This is the prize I offer to all of you every day you come to class. The first student that can tell me the number and nature of the wards I've placed over my classroom door will win it."
A hand punched the air, and he smiled, "Yes, Ms. Granger?"
"Will we be learning to detect wards in this class professor? Only, I've not been told what our text will be…" She trailed off, hoping he would provide the title of a textbook she could owl for and begin studying.
"Alas, Ms. Granger, you won't be getting a textbook." She looked crestfallen, others around the room were befuddled. This seemed as good as any to segway into what he was planning on covering with them this first lesson, so he stood and moved behind his desk.
"Right, so that begs the question, why enchanting and warding? What are these two subjects and what ties them together?" He only half asked it, just to see if he'd get any guesses, no one raised their hands so he just picked up a piece of chalk and scrawled two big words across the board.
Applied Runes
"This year, as my pre O.W.L runes students, you will be going a bit beyond what you cover in your runes class, to the application of runes to imbue spells within objects. That is enchanting. My upper year class will be learning about wards, which is the application of runes to imbue space with magic. The only thing that differentiates the two subjects is the complexity of the runes used."
He was shocked to turn and see quills scribbling away, dutifully taking notes on what he said. It would take a couple of weeks for the novelty of it to wear off. For now, he simply returned to his desk's edge and sat on it again.
"So, who can tell me the benefits of enchanting an item as opposed to simply charming it?"
Hermione's fist punched the air again. "Enchantments, bound in rune, do not fade in strength over time like simple charms do-"
"Very good, take five points." He cut her off before she could give more answers. "Anyone else?" Cho Chang raised her hand tentatively.
"Yes Ms. Chang?"
"Enchantments do not draw on the caster's magic to sustain themselves, the runes are their source."
He nodded.
"Another five points, this time for Ravenclaw, and the last major benefit to an enchantment? Anyone?" There was silence for a few seconds, a couple kids cast furtive glances around. Little Luna Lovegood raised her hand at last.
"Enchantments don't end when the caster dies," she said dreamily.
"And the final five go to Ravenclaw- and yes, Ms. Patil?" Padma lowered her hand and spoke up, looking suddenly nervous under his gaze.
"Why do some enchantments only need an incantation?"
"Because those enchantments are actually charms, and an excellent question!" The misuse of the word enchantment was a topic that Fleur was passionate about. "The long and short of it is, enchantments use runes, charms use wands. Even if it functions as an enchanted item, Gloria's Glorious Glowing Goblet is just a charmed cup that keeps your tea warm."
There was a smattering of laughter, a bit uncertain, until Luna caught up and joined in a bit too enthusiastically. He waited patiently for her to reign it in with a painful sense of fondness and homesickness before continuing.
"How many of you are also enrolled in Arithmancy?"
All hands went up to save Ernie McMillan's, he pointed to the nervous Hufflepuff, who was looking at all his peers in a panic.
"While it's not required at this level, you'll still need to pick up the fundamentals. I can teach you what you need to know, but if you want to reach the more advanced stuff you have some catching up to do. In fact, for my Warding class, it's compulsory."
Ernie nodded, relieved to be out of the spotlight, and Harry carried on.
"So for our first lesson, your task will be to make these-" he waved his wand and conjured sticks of chalk at each of their desks, "...stick to the ceiling."
He moved around his desk and sat in his chair, the class was staring at him blankly so he leaned back and put his feet up, "well carry on then, we haven't got all day!"
Naturally, within the first ten minutes, Hermione's chalk zipped up and stuck to the stone above with a satisfying snap! "Very good Hermione, five points to Gryffindor."
There was chalk dust all over the student's desks, pieces littered the floor, and he'd had to reconjure for almost everyone else.
"Don't tell anyone what you wrote, we'll review at the end of class." Others caught on eventually, he set those that finished the task of making the chalk float before them and a few minutes before the end of class Luna achieved her first lift off.
"So, as some of you learned from Ms. Granger, enchantments require activation. Whether by wand or by witch, simply creating a rune will not enact that rune's will. It needs a connection to magic, this is why textbooks aren't exploding and freezing and flying and teleporting all the time."
He waved his wand and vanished the evidence of their attempts and sat up in his chair. "Before we end, your homework for next week will be to bring a piece of chalk to class that hovers, its height is less important, so long as it is consistent. Now! How many of you used Up?"
Half the class raised their hands, those that did looked in surprise at the others.
"If your first lesson is that enchantments require activation, then the second is: there are many ways to achieve the same effect in this field, and the more arithmancy you implement, the more there are. Throughout the year, as we progress, I'll assign you to turn in multiple artifacts that fulfill the same function, artifacts that don't use specific runes or geometries, and any number of ways to test your creative boundaries in your work."
The final bell chimed, releasing students for lunch and Harry moved around his desk.
"Great work everyone, see you next week."
-o-o-o-
Harry walked out onto the pitch with his Firebolt thrown over his shoulder. The students were all in the great hall, his first class of term had gone over well, so he decided a mid-day flight was in order before he was back to work on finding a way home. The hedgerows for the third task hadn't sprouted yet, so he retrieved the quidditch set from the locker rooms and carried it out to the center of the field.
The bludger burst from the box the moment he unchained it, and he only just had enough time to mount up before it ceased its initial climb and pivoted down toward him. He shot off along the ground and heard the low thud as the enchanted cannonball impacted the ground where he was moments before. He roved across the pitch for a few minutes, weaving stands and goalposts pursued by the bludger, and saw a pair of riders approaching as he banked around the locker room building.
The bright flash of orange in the weak September sun told him all he needed to know about the newcomers, but their beater's bats didn't hurt either. He flew their way, only his extensive training in the air prevented him from coming up short at the sight of them and getting pummeled out of the sky. He flew past and circled around in a tight arc as he heard the crack of one of the twins sending the bludger away.
"Afternoon professor," one said, eyeing his broom.
"Nice flying, care for some company?" the other chimed in.
"Sounds good to me," Harry said with a grin, "how's five points to Gryffindor if you manage to land a blow sound?"
Both Weasleys adopted wicked grins, and Harry clocked the returning bludger.
"Sounds like a bet to us," they said in unison and Harry nodded.
"One of you, go release the other one then," and he rolled under the incoming ball and shot off before it could be sent his way with a swing.
He spent the rest of the lunch hour ducking out of the way as the Weasley's knocked bludgers back and forth between them. He worked up a sweat by the end of it, but no points were awarded by the time they wrested the last ball back into its cage. Windswept, they all strolled back up to the castle together.
"I'm Fred," Fred said.
"I'm George," the other echoed.
"You must be the infamous Weasley twins." Harry said, chucking at the swell of pride at the title. "What're you doing out here, isn't it your lunch period?"
"Came to find you," that was Fred, Harry was pretty sure.
"Yeah, wanted to chat with you," George added.
He raised an eyebrow but nodded for them to continue.
"We're set up for Warding on Friday, but see the thing is, Enchanting is the new class we were really hoping for." George took the lead, and it took a moment for Harry to readjust to their ping pong manner of speaking.
"We have a little enterprise you see, but most of our enchanting has been self taught."
"Ah, and how far along have you gotten?" They named off a couple books from the library and he nodded along, familiar with all of them as they were currently upstairs in his quarters.
"Well, you're welcome to sit in on my Wednesday class if you have a free period, but the lesson plans for Warding are easily enough applied to enchantments, and you're already ahead of the others in Enchanting for most of the first term I'd imagine."
They crossed into the entry hall and Harry watched them deliberate with a glance before they both grinned together and turned toward him. "Brilliant!" one said.
"We'll see you Friday then," the other finished, and they split off toward the great hall.
Harry watched them go for a moment, wondering if the pain of seeing old friends would ever dull. He shook himself of the thought, physically, before he turned toward the grand stairs. It didn't need to dull, he just needed to find a way back.