I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, or any canon characters.

it has been a long road, but Harry is ready to start his first term as Professor Potter. However, there is one student that might just ruin everything. A first year, Daisy Dursley.

-0-0-0-

Harry Potter jolted, startled by the touch on his shoulder.

"My apologies," Minerva McGonagall murmured into his ear. "Are you okay?"

Harry's smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Aside from the whole I'm teaching for the first-time thing."

She snorted. "We both know it is not the first time you have taught." She looked down the length of the Great Hall, at a small form that sat at the Gryffindor table. "The vast majority of people would not know, but I do."

He followed her eyes, looking carefully at the small blonde-haired girl. "Thanks for asking. I'll treat her like any other student."

"I know you will. But I was asking if you were okay."

This time his smile reached his eyes and both were slightly sad. "Well, can't say I was expecting it but, I'll manage. I'll be okay. I won't let you down."

Her smile was equally sad. "That was never a question," she said softly.

-0-

Harry walked up and down the aisles, helping the students with their wand movements. He smiled fondly as they tried to turn their matchsticks into needles, remembering his very first lesson. So far none had managed the transfiguration completely, though some were making progress.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

Harry froze for a moment before turning. He smiled gently at the blonde girl. "Yes? How can I help you, Miss Dursley?" He was barely able to suppress a shiver when he said her name.

She looked up at him, nervous and frustrated. "I'm not getting this at all. It's not working."

"Not everyone will get it immediately," he said kindly. "It's important to really want it to happen. Magic is change and you have to really mean for the change to happen, to use your will to make it so. Think about a needle, the shape, the color, how the metal feels. Got that?" He saw an oddly familiar facial expression appear on her face, a look of intense concentration. "Now, incant and make the wand movement."

She squealed happily as the wooden matchstick became slightly metallic. "I did it! It changed!"

"Good job," he praised. "Keep at it and you'll turn it into a proper needle in no time."

When the class ended he watched as she gathered her things and waved at him happily before leaving with her Housemates. "That wasn't so bad," he sighed softly.

-0-

He hoped that she would be a slightly distant student. He knew she was different, that though she shared the last name, she was not a direct clone of her parents just like how he was not one of James or Lily.

He knew that he could not hold her responsible for the faults of her family. She was not responsible for any of it. She did not even seem to recognize him aside from what other magicals had told her of the legend that was Harry Potter. Still, it was hard for him not to shiver a little when he said her last name. Hard to not see her father's eyes, hear the echoes of her grandparents' voices.

Unfortunately for him, she had latched herself to him and his class. Transfiguration was her favorite subject and he her favorite professor in turn. She came to him often to ask him questions, for help.

He never begrudged her. He treated her like any other student. Until one day he found himself looking forward to seeing her. She was funny and intelligent. She worked hard. He felt the icy grip around his heart thaw slowly.

He always hoped to be treated kindly by a Dursley, perhaps this was his only chance to have that.

-0-

"P-P-Professor?"

"Miss Dursley?" He frowned. She looked absolutely miserable. Worse than the time he punished a few students calling her a mudblood. He had taken her aside and gently taught her what it meant and why she was being bullied, and that her blood did not define her.

Something that he had to remind himself about her in the beginning.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She sniffled. "I...I...I have something to s-say."

He felt his heart freeze once more. "Oh?"

"I think my...my dad knows you." She rubbed at her eyes.

"I see," he said slowly. He sighed, tired of being coy or obtuse. "I believe I know him too. His name is Dudley, isn't it?"

She looked astonished. "You are Harry Potter then?!"

He laughed. "I never pretended otherwise."

She blushed. "I mean, you're related to my dad. You're cousins."

"That's right."

She looked even more miserable now. Harry was prepared for that. He knew she probably grew up on stories about how terrible he was. How he was a freak. She probably regretted the fact that they were related. So when she next spoke, he was entirely caught unawares.

"Do you hate me?"

"What? No! Not at all Miss Dursley."

"Why don't you call me Daisy?" she asked plaintively, crying openly now.

"It's a form of respect," he replied lamely.

She sniffled. "So you don't hate me? They said you would. Grandma and Grandpa. They said you would treat me terribly and they didn't believe me when I said you were kind and nice and I liked you a lot."

He flushed. "Petunia and Vernon treat you well?" he asked with mild disbelief.

She blinked, unused to thinking of her grandparents with their names. "Yes, they say some rude things sometimes but Dad stops them if he hears them. He said you'd hate me too. For what they did to you."

He shook his head. "I don't hate you Miss Dursley. What happened between me and your father and grandparents are wholly between us. You have nothing to do with it. How I treat you will be determined on how you act and treat me."

She looked intensely relieved. "I knew you weren't how they said you were!" She looked distressed again. "Why did they say that?"

He sighed. "You'll be very tired of hearing this but...it might be best for you to wait until you're older. It's tough to understand."

She frowned and he almost laughed at the familiar facial expression of a Dursley denied. "Okay," she said at last. "I'm just glad you don't hate me. You're my favorite professor."

He felt something deep inside his chest ache. "Well I'm not allowed to have favorite students technically," he said and she giggled, "but you are a good student and I like teaching you."

-0-

Later he shared a glass of scotch with McGonagall. "Did you ever learn from your students?" he asked.

"Usually inventive excuses and terrible lies," she snorted. "But once in a while, yes. You do learn something that could only ever come from someone you teach."

"Huh, I thought teachers knew everything," he smiled.

"That's the secret Professor Potter, not at all."

"Except for you."

"Yes, except for me." She tapped her glass against his. "One day, you may be the same."