Chapter 2 – A return to Hogwarts
Amelia stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the young man lingering in the garden. There was something about him that drew her in, something magnetic. He was undeniably handsome—devilishly so—and the way the light caught his features made her heart skip a beat in a way she hadn't expected. His eyes, though—she could drown in those eyes, so piercing and yet warm. If she allowed herself to admit it, she was attracted to him.
But she didn't allow it. She couldn't.
She had Richard, her steady and reliable boyfriend. Besides, she had only just met this Lord Blackwood, and attraction wasn't reason enough to entertain any foolish notions. Shaking herself slightly, she turned and walked the children into the house.
As soon as they were inside, the children began chatting animatedly, their youthful voices filling the space. They spoke of their adventures on the continent, weaving tales of bustling markets, snowy mountains, and magical cities. From the way they spoke, with such familiarity and ease, one might think they had known her all their lives.
It struck her as odd.
She felt an unexpected comfort with them, one that mirrored the warmth they clearly felt toward her. It was curious, almost unnerving. Something about them felt… familiar. The girl's red hair, the older boys striking blue eyes, and the youngest boy's uncanny resemblance to their father. If she didn't know better, she might think they were family.
But she did know better. She had studied her family tree extensively, memorised every branch and root. There were no unknown cousins or siblings. And yet, this family—this strange, intriguing family—felt like they mattered in a way she couldn't quite explain.
"Ah, here we are," Amelia said as she found the chocolate frogs. She handed the box to Eddie, as he'd introduced himself. He seemed to be the oldest by only a slight margin.
"Are you twins?" she asked, her tone light.
The boy and girl nodded in unison.
"That must be exciting."
"It's alright," Lily replied with a small shrug, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.
Amelia chuckled at the girl's nonchalant tone, but Eddie leaned forward, his expression curious. "So, what do you think of our father?"
"Edward!" Lily hissed, glaring at her brother in horror.
Amelia laughed, amused by their dynamic. "He seems very nice," she replied, her lips quirking into a grin.
Eddie's expression turned sly. "Maybe you should have dinner with him. Get to know him better."
"Edward!" Lily hissed again, this time with a furious blush.
"Well, I wouldn't mind that," Amelia said, humour dancing in her voice. "But I have a boyfriend, you know. I'm afraid he'd be most put out if I had dinner with someone else." The unspoken especially someone as handsome as your father lingered in her mind, but she pushed it aside.
"What?" the youngest Blackwood suddenly exclaimed, his voice filled with dismay. "You can't have a boyfriend!"
"And why is that?" Amelia asked, arching a brow and folding her arms.
But the children said nothing. They exchanged nervous glances, looking like they had already said too much.
"I see," Amelia said slowly, her curiosity piqued. "Well, I hope you enjoy the chocolate frogs. Let's get you back to your father."
She led them back to the fireplace, watching as they disappeared one by one into the green flames. Sirius gave her a shy wave before stepping in, and Lily hesitated just long enough to flash her a bright smile. Edward went last, his gaze thoughtful as if he were calculating something before he, too, vanished into the Floo.
Once they were gone, Amelia found herself smiling. The house seemed quieter, emptier without their chatter.
"Thank you for inviting me Edgar. I will be back next week with the children, if that's alright?" Harry asked as he grabbed a handful of powder.
"We would love to have them." Harry nodded and then turned to Amelia with his signature lopsided grin.
"It was wonderful to meet you Miss Bones. May I be so lucky at my next visit." Then before she could reply he was gone.
"They seem like a nice family," her brother said from the doorway, startling her slightly.
"Yes," she replied, glancing at him. "They do."
"How did you meet Lord Blackwood?"
Edgar's expression shifted, his shoulders squaring as if bracing for an interrogation.
Amelia turned to him fully, her eyes sharp with curiosity. She folded her arms. "Well?"
Edgar sighed, already resigned to the questions he knew were coming. "It's… complicated."
"I have time."
Edgar ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath. "Of course you do."
O – o – o - o
The air was crisp and invigorating as Harry approached the gates of Hogwarts, the familiar sight bringing a rush of memories. This time, however, he was not here as a student but as a man on a mission, one that transcended time itself. With Edgar, Liliana, and Sirius safely hidden under the watchful care of Edgar and his wife, Harry was ready to take the next step in his plan.
His new identity as Lord Hector Blackwood was firmly in place, a mask that gave him both access and anonymity in this era. As he stepped into the castle, the enchantment of Hogwarts seemed to welcome him back like an old friend. The murmurs of portraits in the halls echoed faintly, a reminder of simpler days, but Harry had no time to linger on nostalgia. He made his way to the Headmaster's office with purpose, each step carrying the weight of what lay ahead.
When Harry reached the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, it sprang aside without a word, as though expecting him. He climbed the spiral staircase, his mind already on the conversation ahead. The door was ajar, warm light spilling out into the corridor.
"Lord Blackwood, welcome," Albus Dumbledore greeted him warmly as Harry stepped inside. The headmaster's twinkling blue eyes held their usual blend of curiosity and kindness, though Harry detected a sharper edge beneath the surface. "Please, have a seat."
"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry replied, taking the offered chair. Sitting across from Dumbledore was both a comfort and a reminder of all he'd left behind. Dumbledore poured two cups of tea, the scent of bergamot filling the room.
"I understand you are interested in the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," he said, a trace of amusement in his tone. "Your credentials are quite impressive, if a touch unconventional."
Harry smiled faintly, his heart pounding. "Yes, I believe my experience and knowledge could benefit the students. But, Headmaster, there's more to my application than meets the eye."
Dumbledore's expression grew serious, the twinkle in his eyes dimming slightly. "Go on."
Harry reached into his robes and withdrew the envelope of documents Croaker had prepared. He placed it on the desk with a steady hand. "What I'm about to share with you is highly sensitive. I need your word, Headmaster, that this will remain between us unless absolutely necessary."
"You have my word," Dumbledore said solemnly.
The room fell silent as Dumbledore opened the envelope. The rustle of parchment was the only sound as his eyes scanned the documents, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. He lingered over Amelia Bones's handwritten notes, his fingers tracing the ink as though trying to decipher more from the letters.
"This is... extraordinary," Dumbledore said at last, his gaze piercing. "You're telling me you've come from a future where Voldemort has been resurrected twice?"
"Yes," Harry said evenly. "My real name is Harry Potter. I defeated Voldemort in my timeline, but he pushed the last part of his soul into someone else as a desperate contingency. His followers sacrificed that person to bring him back, and the world fell into chaos again. My wife—Amelia Bones—was killed in a Death Eater attack a month later. My children were taken a year after that. I came back to stop that future from happening."
Dumbledore's face softened, though his eyes remained grave. "A heavy burden indeed. Would you mind sharing your memories? It might help me understand fully."
"It would be easier than explaining everything," Harry agreed.
Dumbledore rose and retrieved his Pensieve. Harry extracted a long string of shimmering memories and placed them into the basin.
"This includes everything from the moment I learned I was a wizard to the moment I arrived in this timeline," Harry explained.
Dumbledore nodded and leaned over the Pensieve. He disappeared into the swirling silver substance, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.
When the headmaster emerged some time later, his face was pale and drawn. He sank into his chair, fingers steepled under his chin.
"If you say 'I'm sorry,' I'm leaving," Harry said with a wry smile.
Dumbledore chuckled faintly, though the twinkle in his eyes was absent. "An incredible journey you've had, Harry. Painful, but remarkable. The task you've set before yourself will not be easy."
"I don't expect it to be," Harry replied.
Dumbledore leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "You believe the key lies in preventing Tom Riddle's rise to full power?"
"Yes," Harry said firmly. "If I can destroy the Horcruxes he's already made without him realising, it will change everything. Then it's just him—no immortality."
"A wise strategy," Dumbledore said. "And Edgar Bones is assisting you?"
"He is," Harry confirmed. "But I'll need your help as well. You knew him better than most, and you know this timeline better than I do."
Dumbledore nodded, his expression tinged with sadness. "Tom is already dangerous, even now. You must tread carefully, Harry. He is clever and will notice even the slightest misstep."
"I understand," Harry said.
Dumbledore's gaze softened. "Your wife, Amelia... she was an incredible woman."
Harry smiled faintly, the memories of her bringing a bittersweet ache to his chest. "She was brilliant. Determined. Stubborn, but in the best way. She fought fiercely for what she believed in, and she never wavered, even in the face of overwhelming odds. She was... everything to me."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "She is young now, unscarred by the trials that shaped the woman you knew. But even in this time, her spirit shines brightly."
"It does," Harry agreed softly, thinking of her smile in the garden.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled faintly, but his voice remained serious. "And Voldemort? What is your plan for him? Do you intend to confront him directly?"
"Not yet," Harry said. "I'll need to gather intelligence first. That's why I applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. It will give me access to Tom Riddle's potential followers while they are still at Hogwarts. Maybe I can make a difference. I also need to understand his movements, his weaknesses, and his connections before making any significant moves."
Dumbledore nodded, his expression pensive. "A prudent approach…..Harry, the burden of changing the past is one that will weigh heavily on you. You must be prepared for the unexpected, for consequences that may ripple in ways we cannot foresee."
"I am," Harry replied, his voice steady. "I have to be. For my children, for Amelia, and for everyone who suffered in the future I left behind."
The headmaster regarded him with quiet admiration. "Very well. You have my support, Lord Blackwood. Together, we will do what must be done to forge a better future."
As Harry left the office, his steps felt lighter despite the enormity of the task ahead. He had Dumbledore's trust and guidance, and that was a foundation strong enough to build hope upon. The battle was far from over, but for the first time in a long while, Harry felt he had a chance to win, and if Amelia was only seventeen….. his heart soared at the number of happy years they could have together.
O – o – o – o
The summer sun bathed Blackwood Manor in a golden glow as Harry immersed himself in preparing for his role at Hogwarts. The library, a sanctuary of knowledge filled with ancient tomes, became his retreat. Beyond the library windows, the sound of his children's laughter echoed across the sprawling gardens, a poignant reminder of what he was fighting for.
Each day was a delicate balance: crafting lesson plans to subtly prepare his future students for the dark times ahead, ensuring his children's happiness and wellbeing, and continuing to solidify his cover in this unfamiliar past. His lessons focused on practical skills, critical thinking, and unity—concepts he hoped would fortify the next generation against the encroaching darkness.
As the summer days waned, Harry knew it was time to finalise his arrangements. His children needed a secure environment while he taught at Hogwarts, and there was no one better suited for the task than Edgar Bones and his wife. So, one crisp morning, Harry made his way to the Bones estate. Wildflowers dotted the path, and the air carried the earthy scent of changing seasons. He paused briefly at the grand gates, steeling himself before striding toward the manor's stately entrance.
Edgar greeted him warmly at the door. "Lord Blackwood, a pleasure as always. Do come in."
"Thank you, Edgar," Harry replied, stepping inside. "I have a favour to ask. It concerns my children."
They settled in the elegant sitting room, its high windows flooding the space with soft sunlight. Harry explained his situation with measured calm, detailing his need for someone to watch over Eddie, Lily, and Sirius while he taught. Edgar listened attentively, his sharp eyes reflecting both curiosity and understanding.
"Of course," Edgar said after a thoughtful pause. "My wife and I would be honoured to look after them. They'll be safe here, and we'll ensure they're well cared for."
Harry exhaled, relief washing over him. "Thank you, Edgar. Your kindness means more than you can know."
As they finalised the details, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.
Amelia Bones entered with her characteristic poise, her auburn hair catching the light. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Harry, a flicker of surprise and something else crossing her face.
"You're back," she said, a smile tugging at her lips.
Harry stood, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. "It seems I can't stay away."
Amelia arched a brow. "Business with Edgar, I assume?"
"Yes, of course," Harry replied, his tone light. "Important matters. But it's wonderful to see you again, Amelia."
"Likewise," she said, extending her hand.
Harry took it, his breath catching as their fingers brushed. "You look well."
"Thank you," she replied, the faintest flush gracing her cheeks. Her voice held a teasing lilt. "And you're as charming as ever, I see."
Harry chuckled, a low, warm sound that made Amelia blink as though surprised by her own words. Realising she'd just flirted, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.
"I—well, I should leave you two to your business," she said quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"No need to rush off on my account," Harry said, his eyes sparkling with quiet amusement.
Amelia paused, her hand resting lightly on the back of a chair. "You're trouble, aren't you?"
Harry tilted his head. "Depends on who you ask."
The room seemed to hold its breath as they exchanged a look—one filled with curiosity and unspoken questions. Finally, Amelia turned on her heel, her movements brisk but not without grace. "I'll leave you to it," she said, the faintest smile on her lips as she left the room.
When the door closed behind her, Edgar leaned back in his chair, smirking. "She's already taken with you."
Harry tried to suppress a grin. "She's stubborn. It won't be easy."
"You like a challenge, don't you?" Edgar quipped.
Harry laughed softly. "Always."
As Harry prepared to leave, Amelia appeared once more to bid him farewell. "Leaving so soon?" she asked, folding her arms.
"I've taken enough of your brother's time," Harry replied, his tone warm.
"You're welcome to visit anytime and you don't always have to visit my brother," she said, her voice softening slightly.
Harry stepped closer, taking her hand gently. "I might take you up on that."
Before she could respond, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to her hand, his lips brushing her knuckles with deliberate care.
Amelia blinked, her cheeks flushing a warm pink. "You—" she started, but Harry had already turned to Edgar.
"Thank you again, Edgar," Harry said, his voice steady despite the faint smirk tugging at his lips.
As Harry disappeared through the flames, Edgar shook his head, grinning.
"What are you looking at?" Amelia asked sharply, her hands going to her hips.
"Nothing, nothing," Edgar said, his tone far too innocent.
Amelia narrowed her eyes, her blush deepening as she muttered, "Men."
But as she turned away, her lips curved into a reluctant smile.
O – o – o – o
The rhythmic clatter of the Hogwarts Express provided a comforting soundtrack as Amelia Bones gazed out the window, her thoughts far from the passing countryside. She'd spent the summer immersed in her studies and duties, but her mind kept drifting back to one unexpected presence: Lord Hector Blackwood – or Harry as he liked to be called.
His enigmatic charm lingered in her thoughts, a mixture of strength and vulnerability that intrigued her in ways she hadn't anticipated. His warm smile and piercing green eyes had a way of disarming her, of making her feel both seen and curious about the man behind the title. There was so much he didn't say—secrets he carried like a heavy cloak—but his kindness, especially when he spoke of his children, had touched something deep within her.
"Amelia?" Lily Evan's voice broke through her thoughts, a teasing lilt in her tone. "You're not even listening, are you?"
"Sorry," Amelia said, blinking and turning her gaze from the window. "I zoned out for a moment."
"Uh-huh," Lily said, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Who's the boy?"
"What? There's no boy!" Amelia protested, but the blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.
"There is!" Lily said, grinning. "And it's definitely not Richard. He's never made you blush like that."
"We're here when you're ready to tell us," Hestia Jones chimed in, her grin matching Lily's.
Amelia sighed, looking down at her hands. It wasn't that she didn't want to share—it was that she didn't know what to make of her own feelings. So, with the practiced skills of a master she guided the conversation to lighter topics until eventually her friends were distracted enough that she could turn back to the window.
When the train slowed to a halt at Hogsmeade Station, Amelia stepped off, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through her. Hogwarts always felt like a second home, its towering spires and warm glow promising a year of discovery. She joined her friends, chatting amiably as they entered the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast.
But her breath caught as her eyes found a familiar figure standing near the staff table, deep in conversation with Dumbledore. Lord Blackwood.
Her heart skipped a beat as their eyes met across the crowded hall. He gave her a subtle nod, his lips curving into a knowing smile that sent her pulse racing.
"What's he doing here?" she murmured, half to herself.
Lily followed her gaze, a smirk tugging at her lips as her eyes widened in realisation. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Amelia glared at her but quickly refocused as the Sorting Ceremony began. When Dumbledore rose to speak, her anticipation mounted.
"I am pleased to announce," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying through the hall, "that Lord Hector Blackwood will be joining us this year as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He comes with a wealth of experience and knowledge that will undoubtedly benefit all of you."
The hall erupted in applause, and excited whispers filled the air.
"He's so handsome!" one girl gushed nearby.
"Do you think he's married?" another asked.
"I heard he's a prodigy with magic!"
Amelia's cheeks flushed as she listened, her feelings a confusing mix of pride and possessiveness. She couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction that others recognised his talents, though a part of her wished she could keep this mysterious man all to herself.
O – o – o - o
The next morning, Amelia entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, her heart thudding in anticipation. She chose a seat near the front, trying to ignore the chatter of her classmates.
When Hector—Professor Blackwood now—entered the room, the air shifted. His quiet confidence commanded attention, and the students fell silent.
"Good morning," he began, his voice steady and warm. "My name is Lord Hector Blackwood, and I'll be your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year. My goal is to teach you not only to defend yourselves but to understand the nature of the dark arts so you can face them with knowledge and resilience."
Amelia watched him closely, captivated by the way he spoke with authority and empathy. As the lesson unfolded, his passion for teaching was evident. He made complex concepts accessible, his demonstrations flawless. When he cast a series of defensive spells, the students were visibly awestruck.
During the practical portion of the lesson, he moved through the room, offering guidance. When he reached Amelia's group, her pulse quickened.
"Miss Bones," he said, his green eyes locking on hers, "would you demonstrate the Shield Charm for us?"
Amelia nodded, her grip on her wand steady despite her racing heart. She raised it and cast firmly. "Protego!"
A shimmering shield materialised, strong and steady.
"Excellent," Harry said, his smile warm. "That was perfect, Miss Bones."
Their eyes met for a moment longer than necessary, and Amelia felt heat rise to her cheeks. He moved on, but the brief exchange lingered in her mind.
After class, as students filed out, Harry called her name. "Amelia."
She turned, her bag halfway packed, and met his gaze. "Yes, Professor?"
"It's good to see you again," he said, his tone soft but sincere.
Before she could respond, Richard appeared at her side. "Hello, Professor," he said, offering his hand.
Harry shook it, his smile polite but distant. "Richard Abernathy, isn't it?"
"Yes. That was an excellent lesson. We're all excited to have you here," Richard said. "Amelia especially has complained about the lack of good Defence teachers."
"Richard!" Amelia hissed, shooting him a look.
Harry chuckled, though there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "I couldn't agree more. Being unprepared is dangerous."
"See?" Richard said with a grin. "You two will get on brilliantly." He turned to Amelia. "Come on, dinner will be served soon."
"Good night, Professor," she said, hesitating slightly.
"Good night," Harry replied, his voice kind, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
As they walked away, Amelia glanced back, catching a glimpse of him watching them, a shadow of longing in his expression.
Her heart clenched. Was he sad she was with Richard? And why did that thought stir such a confusing mix of guilt and hope within her?
O – o – o – o
As the sky deepened into shades of purple and orange, Hogwarts stood shrouded in the tranquil embrace of evening. Inside the warmth of his quarters, Harry found refuge in the joyous chaos of his children. The soft glow of the fireplace cast long shadows across the room, flickering like the memories he carried.
Edgar was a whirlwind of excitement, his training wand clutched in one small hand as he guided a toy dragon through loops and spirals in the air. "Look, Dad! It breathes fire now!" he said proudly, a faint puff of harmless sparks emerging from the dragon's mouth.
Liliana, meanwhile, sat cross-legged on the rug, giggling as she conjured iridescent bubbles that floated and popped in bursts of soft light. "I made one the size of my head earlier!" she announced, her face glowing with delight.
Harry leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at his lips. These moments—full of laughter and innocence—were his sanctuary.
"Tell us about your first day, Dad," Edgar said, plopping down beside him, his wide eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Harry ruffled his son's dark hair. "It was a good day. The students are eager to learn, and I think this year might be something special."
"Did you use your super cool wand skills?" Sirius asked, his voice a mix of admiration and hope.
"I might have shown them a thing or two," Harry said with a grin, leaning closer like he was sharing a secret. "But it's important to save some surprises for later."
Liliana rested her head against his arm, her tone dreamy. "We explored the Bones Manor today! It's so big! We found a secret passage behind one of the bookshelves."
"You did?" Harry asked, feigning surprise. "You two didn't run into any ghosts, did you?"
"No, but we heard weird noises," Sirius whispered, his eyes wide.
"Probably just a creaky floorboard," Edgar said with mock bravado, though his smile betrayed him.
Harry laughed, wrapping an arm around each of them. These were the moments he clung to, grounding him in a reality worth fighting for.
After tucking the children into bed—reading just enough of their favourite story to lull them into peaceful slumber—Harry lingered by their bedside. Edgar murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, while Liliana hugged her blanket tightly, her tiny face serene. Sirius laid contently between them. They had all started sharing a bed when Amelia died, and he didn't have the heart to tell them to stop.
"Goodnight, my loves," he whispered, brushing a gentle kiss on each forehead.
He closed the door softly behind him and returned to the sitting room, where the fire still burned low. Settling into the worn leather armchair, he pulled a stack of photographs from his pocket.
Each image was a doorway to a life he could no longer touch. There was Amelia on their wedding day, her radiant smile brighter than the lights of the great hall. Another photo captured the chaos and joy of the twins' birth—Amelia cradling both babies while Harry tried not to cry. His favourite was from their fifth anniversary in France: Amelia laughing as she tossed a pebble into the turquoise sea, the wind tangling her hair.
His fingers lingered on the edges of the photos, as though touching them might bring her closer. But reality always struck him, leaving only the hollow ache of loss.
Setting the photos aside, Harry reached for the envelope Croaker had given him. He pulled out the letter written in Amelia's familiar hand. The parchment was creased from countless readings, yet each word felt as fresh as the first time he'd read it.
Harry,
If you're reading this, it means I'm gone, and Croaker has initiated Operation 1973. I'm sorry I left you. Please know that I love you more than anything in the world, other than our children. Be brave, my love. Do not let this loss darken your heart.
You have a chance to fix things, to create a better future. I know how heavy the weight of the past can feel, but I have no doubt you will find your way into my heart all over again. You've always had a way of breaking through my walls, Harry. When you think I'm ready, when the time is right, give me the letter addressed to me. It will explain everything.
I love you, and we will be together again, I promise.
Forever yours,
Amelia
Harry's hands trembled as he held the letter close, the words blurring through his tears. He could almost see her writing it, her determined expression softened by the love she'd poured into every line.
Her strength had always been his anchor, and now, even across time, she was guiding him. The rawness of her absence hit him anew, but her belief in him brought a spark of comfort.
He traced the letters of her name at the bottom, his lips pressing into a firm line. "I won't let you down," he murmured to the empty room.
The second envelope, addressed to Amelia herself, lay on the table along with a vial of her memories. He ran his fingers over its surface, feeling the weight of everything it represented. One day, he thought. One day, when the time is right, I'll give this to her.
O – o – o – o
The next day, Harry stood at the front of the classroom, hands resting on his desk as he surveyed the group of sixth year Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students seated before him. Sirius Black lounged in his chair, feet propped on the desk in front of him, his trademark grin firmly in place. James Potter sat beside him, twirling his wand idly between his fingers, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes that reminded Harry so much of his younger self it hurt.
On James's other side was Peter Pettigrew. Harry's gaze flicked to him briefly, his expression carefully neutral. Peter sat nervously, hunched over as though trying to make himself smaller. Harry suppressed the surge of anger that threatened to rise in his chest. Hatred wouldn't change the past, and it wouldn't help him now. Instead, he vowed to keep an eye on Peter, watching for any signs that might reveal his descent into betrayal.
Finally, Lily Evans and Remus Lupin sat at the far end of the row. Lily's green eyes were bright with curiosity and determination, while Lupin's quill was poised over a blank piece of parchment, ready to take notes, his posture straight and attentive.
The sight of his mother made Harry's chest tighten. He forced himself to focus, burying the wave of longing and grief that came from seeing her alive and vibrant.
"All right," Harry said, his voice calm but firm. "Welcome to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts class this year. I've tailored your lessons to not only focus on what is required for exams but also on advanced duelling techniques and counter-curses. These skills aren't just theoretical—they're practical, and they could save your life one day."
"Sounds serious," Sirius quipped, earning a laugh from James.
Harry smirked. "It is, Mr. Black. But I promise I'll make it worth your while. Now, let's start with a simple exercise to assess where you all are."
Harry waved his wand, conjuring a series of glowing orbs that hovered in the air. "These orbs will fire harmless stun spells at random intervals. Your job is to deflect them using the Protego charm."
Sirius was on his feet immediately, his wand out and a cocky grin on his face. "This'll be a piece of cake."
"Let's see," Harry said, stepping back to observe.
The orbs began firing. Sirius deflected the first few with ease, laughing as he did so. James quickly joined in, his Protego shimmering with confidence. Lily cast her shield with precision, her focus unwavering as she deflected each stun spell with practiced ease.
Peter hesitated, fumbling with his wand. He managed to conjure a weak Protego, but it flickered under the pressure of the incoming spells.
"Keep your stance steady, Pettigrew," Harry instructed, his tone neutral but firm. "And focus on maintaining the strength of your shield. It's about control, not force."
Peter nodded, his face red as he tried again. His next attempt was marginally better, but Harry could see the frustration building in his expression.
After the exercise, Harry addressed the group. "You're all skilled, but skill isn't enough in a real fight. Precision and strategy will always beat raw power. Let's take it up a notch. Split yourselves into groups of five and we'll get started."
He waved his wand again, and the orbs disappeared, replaced by lifelike illusions of various dark creatures: a Nundu, a banshee, and an acromantula. The groups of students tensed, their wands at the ready.
"These creatures are designed to test your reflexes and your knowledge. Work together in your teams to neutralise them."
The groups quickly sprang into action and Harry watched his father's group closely while circling the room. Sirius and James immediately took the lead, their spells flying fast and furiously. Lily and Lupin stepped in with well-timed curses and counter-charms, their intellect and precision balancing the other boys' reckless energy.
Peter hung back, his wand trembling slightly. He cast a few spells, but they were weak and ineffective. Harry watched him closely, his mind racing. Peter's hesitation, his lack of confidence—were these signs of his future betrayal? Or were they the symptoms of a man who felt out of place among his more talented friends?
When the illusions were finally defeated, Harry stepped forward. "Good teamwork overall. But remember, each of you has strengths to bring to the table. Learn to trust one another and rely on those strengths."
After dismissing the class, Harry called Peter aside. "Mr. Pettigrew, a moment of your time."
Peter hesitated, glancing nervously at the others. "Yes, Professor?"
Harry regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You have potential, but you're holding yourself back. Why?"
Peter looked down at his shoes, mumbling, "I just… I don't want to mess up."
"Fear of failure is natural," Harry said, his voice softer now. "But it's also dangerous. In a fight, hesitation can cost lives. Trust in your abilities, and trust in your friends. You're part of the group for a reason."
Peter looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "You really think so?"
"I do," Harry replied, though the words felt heavy in his throat. He wasn't sure if he believed them, but he hoped they might plant a seed of self-worth in Peter—something that could perhaps change the course of his future.
Later that evening, Harry sat alone in his quarters, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. The lesson had gone well, but it had stirred up emotions he hadn't expected.
Teaching his parents and their friends was a surreal experience, one that brought both joy and pain. Seeing James and Lily alive, vibrant, and full of life was a gift he never thought he'd have—but it was bittersweet.
And then there was Peter. Harry clenched his fists, his mind racing. Could he change Peter's fate? Could he prevent the betrayal that would shatter everything?
For now, all he could do was keep an eye on him, guide him where he could, and hope that the hands of fate could be rewritten.