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A rather raucous game of Exploding Snap was rudely interrupted as a silvery cat patronus landed on top of the cards.
"Mr. Potter, I am ready whenever you are," it said calmly.
"Ahh, that's my cue, chaps!" Harry threw down his remaining cards, a couple of which exploded with a BANG. The patronus looked mildly affronted.
"What's the betting on the career advice for the savior of the Wizarding World?" Seamus hollered.
"Mmmm, Department of Magical Waste removal?" Dean tossed out.
"I was thinking Knight Bus driver," Seamus replied.
"Janitor!"
"Azkaban cook!"
"Actually I think Harry would make a great Unspeakable," Neville said seriously from his armchair. The conversation stopped.
"Nev, lad, you do have a way of bringing the mood down," Dean said.
"Not bringing the mood down as much as not wanting to listen to you slander perfectly respectable careers." Neville glared at them over his Botany tome. As only his eyes were visible, the effect was quite sobering.
"Right, yeah that..."
"That's fair. That was stupid of us."
"Ignorant would be the better word," he replied, icily.
Harry grimaced, wishing his friends had come through the war with a bit more sense in their heads sometimes.
"Right then, well I'm off, and if I am recommended for Knight Bus driver I look forward to picking up you sorry lot on your way back from whichever pub you got sloshed at this time." He winked, and left the common room, knowing Neville would put the two of them to rights in no time.
The corridors were fairly quiet as he followed the patronus through the castle. Most of the major damage from the battle had been repaired before the students had returned in the fall, but many, too many, pockmarks and scores remained behind as testaments to what had been. There hadn't been time or manpower to fix them; there'd been too many other, more important things to worry about.
"Reparo," he whispered, and a long score high on the wall ahead disappeared. It was a tradition he and the rest of the 8th year students had started, one that was picked up by most of the 7th and 6th years as well. The younger students had tried, but weren't skilled enough for the repairs to actually look decent. McGonagall had put a cease and desist order out for anyone under 6th year, but encouraged the older students to continue to heal the castle as they saw fit.
Some day, maybe not this year, maybe not even the next, but someday all visual reminders of the war would be cleansed from the castle. Maybe then the students would be free of the tragedy that was still all too fresh in everyone's minds.
His fingers ran gently along the wall, scraping the ancient stone with that promise. Someday.
The patronus reached a wooden office door, and Harry found he was unsurprised that they were not at the Headmistress's office. He preferred it this way, actually. He knocked twice, and opened the door.
"Hello Professor," he said warmly, trying to rid himself of the melancholy that had come over him as he walked through the halls. McGonagall gave him a smile in return from where she was seated in one of two armchairs by a small fire.
"Hello Harry, thank you for joining me." Harry let himself sink into the other chair before replying.
"Oh, are we dispensing with the formalities? Not that I mind," he shot her a grin, "I notice you didn't bat an eyelash when I called you 'Professor'."
"You are a fully fledged adult in many ways, I feel we can dispense with the formalities when we're in private. I assume it would be fruitless to attempt to convince you to at least call me "McGonagall?" Harry laughed ruefully at her request.
"Quite fruitless, my mind is stuck on calling you Professor, if you don't mind."
"I have no objections whatsoever. Now," she shifted tone a bit, "you are aware of the purpose of this meeting?"
"Career discussion, or so said the pamphlet you sent out a few weeks ago." Harry settled back further in his chair, completely at ease.
"Indeed. Tell me Harry, what are your plans for after Hogwarts?"
"Same as they ever were," he replied promptly. "Become an Auror."
"Ah, of course." She was silent for a second. "Why, exactly, do you want to become an Auror?"
Harry blinked.
"Why?"
"Yes, why. I'm curious what your reasons are for wanting to pursue that path."
Harry was caught off guard and began to think furiously.
"Well, it seems to fit, doesn't it? It's practically all I've been doing since I came here. Just makes sense to keep going at this point."
"Indeed." McGonagall's gaze gave not a hint of her thoughts away. "Why else."
"Well... I guess... everyone expects it of me, don't they?"
"Just because people expect something of you doesn't mean it is what you have to do."
"Professor," Harry's voice wavered in frustration, "weren't you the one who advocated for me to become an Auror? In front of Umbridge no less?"
McGonagall gave him a tired sort of smile.
"I did. And I will stand by your decision, no matter what it might be. But, Harry, will being a Auror make you happy?"
"Make me... happy?"
"Yes, happy. Just because there is an obvious path forward does not mean it is always the road that must be taken, or the one that will bring you the most fulfillment in life."
"I, er..." Harry was completely flustered. He'd been so sure he knew what he wanted to do 10 minutes ago, and now it seemed like he was questioning everything.
"I'd like to cut this meeting short and resume it in a week," McGonagall said with a small smile.
"But, Professor, I..."
"No buts. I would like you to take the time to think, truly think with no bias and no preconceived notions, about what career would make you the happiest." McGonagall stood, and Harry followed suit dazedly.
"Think back on everything you've done and experienced," she said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "If the answer is still Auror, then I will assist you in that goal. But to convince me, you will need a better reasoning than the one you gave."
Harry nodded dully, and McGonagall patted his arm before he walked out of the office.
.....................................
What made him happy?
It had been three days since his meeting and Harry was still no closer to an answer than he had been when he'd returned to the Gryffindor common room, completely bewildered. Ron and Hermione had attempted to help, but despite their best efforts he was still at a loss.
He rolled over in bed, squinting at the sunrise just peeping through the curtains. As sleep now seemed futile, Harry made a hasty decision. Grabbing his rucksack he dressed and tiptoed down the stairs. A quick flyby of the Great Hall nabbed him a stack of toast and a bottle of pumpkin juice from Kretcher before he was away through the front doors.
He found himself meandering along the lake, occasionally throwing a bit of burnt toast into the waves as an offering to the Giant Squid. Walking in a daze, he pondered McGonagall's question again and again. What would make him happy? Maybe Ron had been right, they'd been so focused on Voldemort their whole magical lives that they hadn't stopped to consider what would happen when he was gone. Being an auror seemed easy, a logical extension of the path he'd been on. But he hadn't chosen that path, it had been forced upon him. Was that was McGonagall was asking him to think about?
After tripping over a root and almost falling flat on his face, Harry returned to his senses. It took him a moment to realize where he'd fetched up, but when he did, he froze.
It was the same place he'd protected himself and Sirius from the dementors in third year. A pang of sorrow shot through him as he thought of the godfather he'd know for far too short of a time. Utterly unfair, though most of his life could be categorized that way. He shook his head, trying to focus on a thought that jumped into his mind along with the memories of this place.
"Patroni," he murmured. Only conjurable by strong, happy thoughts. Maybe if he concentrated on those... He decided to give it a go. Flopping back against a mossy boulder, he let his mind wander over all those memories that he had, or could use, to produce a Patronus. His parents, his friends, the Firebolt, Sirius, times at the Burrow, Ginny's laugh, Ron's return...
But those were all just life. Happy moments in life to be sure, but nothing you could pursue as a career. He growled. He just had to think harder. Conjuring up the image of his patronus in his mind, he let it dance around a bit, using his imagination to watch it canter around, scattering light in the darkness. To his surprise, it was joined by a terrier. Then an otter, a swan, a horse, a rabbit; they all danced around with his Patronus just as they had...
"Just like they did during the DA lesson." Harry sat bolt upright. "The DA," he whispered.
...................
Just as he had a week ago, Harry followed the cat patronus to the small wooden door. He knocked and entered, and found McGonagall smiling at him as he sat down opposite her.
"Well Harry, welcome back. Are you still set on becoming an Auror?"
"No." He looked at her with a cautiously hopeful expression. "I, I took the time to think about what you said. About what actually makes me happy." McGonagall's expression was encouraging. "And, well, you remember the DA, don't you?"
"I don't think I dare forget it," she said with a twinkle. "Training your friends in DADA spells right under Umbridge's nose, it was marvelously brave and foolish all at once."
"Well, I am a Gryffindor after all," Harry joked. He was rewarded with a short laugh.
"What about the DA, Harry?"
"I loved running it," he said, simply. "Not just to stick it to Umbridge, but I truly enjoyed helping everyone learn those spells. Watching them learn. Watching them help each other. Seeing how they gained confidence with every new spell they learned. Knowing they were prepared for what was brewing outside these walls. Knowing... knowing that it probably saved many of their lives during the battle." He passed a hand through his hair, trying to brush off the emotion that filled him with that last statement.
"I can conclusively say that it did," replied McGonagall, who also needed a moment to get her emotions back under control. "So, how does this play out into a career for you?"
"I think... I think I'd like to teach," Harry glanced at her to gauge her reaction, but her expression gave nothing away. "To be honest, I'm quite tired of saving people now that I think about it. I never asked for that path and I'm quite done with it for a lifetime. Plus, being in the Ministry would be difficult, too many people who only see me as The Boy Who Lived. I'd like to train up kids, to teach them all those spells and such, but also to help them recognize dark magic and why it's so alluring. Break down the stereotypes about "dark creatures" like werewolves. Give them the tools to defend the ones they love, though I hope it will never come to that. Things like that."
A slow smile spread across McGonagall's face.
"That, Harry, is what I was looking for." When he looked perplexed, she continued. "You just spoke with passion, with motivation, with a drive to accomplish. When you spoke of being an Auror it was in an offhand manner, a logical but not compelling conclusion. This was spoken, if I am not mistaken, from the depths of your heart."
"It was," he replied, and found that her statement was true. "I do have one concern."
"Name it."
"Well, I'm still young, and I doubt most students would respect me just yet."
"A fair concern," McGonagall replied. "Did you have a solution in mind?"
"I did. Befriending both Krum and Fleur during the Tournament showed me that different magical schools teach subjects in very different ways. I would like to travel a bit, visiting other magical schools for as long as they will allow me to see how they teach subjects related to Defense Against the Dark Arts. And bring that knowledge back here in a few years, perhaps even starting a tradition of teacher exchanges or learning programs between the European magical schools."
Harry paused, and then suddenly laughed as he looked McGonagall in the eyes.
"That was presumptuous of me, wasn't it, assuming I would be able to teach here eventually. I apologize, Professor, I..."
McGonagall reached over and put her hand on his knee, stopping the apology.
"Harry. The doors of Hogwarts are always open to you, and I would be honored if you chose to teach here someday." Her expression was one of utmost sincerity, and Harry gulped at her words.
"Thank you," he whispered, choking slightly. She withdrew, a proud expression on her face.
"I assume you would like to start traveling after graduation?"
"Yeah, I would. Going to get back in contact with Krum before then, already am friendly with Fleur through Bill so that'll be easy. See which one of them has the more promising leads on next year and take it from there."
"When you get to the point of sending out a formal letter to the Head of their schools, please inform me. I would be happy to write a letter of recommendation and commendation for your plans."
"That'd be brilliant, Professor, thank you!"
"Sounds like you have a good plan in place, I look forward to seeing where it will lead you," she replied, sincerely.
"As do I," Harry admitted. "Also, I wanted to thank you."
"For...?"
"For making me take the time to think. Honestly it's the first time anyone has asked me to do that, people just kinda, assume they know what's best for me. It's refreshing, to be asked to think for myself," He gave a wry smile. McGonagall chuckled.
"I am looking forward to meeting Harry Potter, the adult, now that he's freed of the expectations that came with being The Chosen One. I have a feeling," her eyes twinkled, "he will do great, if unconventional, things."
"I believe unconventional is my middle name, Professor," Harry replied with a gleam in his own eyes.
"Interesting, here I could have sworn it was James." They both laughed in that moment, and as one stood to say farewell.
"Shame the Room of Requirement was destroyed, I had so many good diagrams and stuff in it before Umbridge discovered us. Would have liked to retrieve them," Harry mentioned offhandedly.
"I have every confidence you will be able to produce new, perhaps even better ones. Keep in touch about how your inquiries go, Harry. If need be, the faculty and myself have our own set of contacts that we may be able to call on, but I would like to see where yours get you first."
"Will do," Harry replied, shaking her hand. He squeezed it a bit before letting go, and McGonagall read his wordless appreciation in the gesture. As he headed for the door, McGonagall called after him.
"Oh, and Harry,"
"Yeah, Professor?"
"Third corridor on the right when you leave, about 10 paces down. There's a nasty burn mark that hasn't been taken care of yet that I would be overjoyed to see gone. I would do it myself, but the mediwizards have advised me to hoard my strength if I want to live to see ninety." She practically huffed the last bit.
"As if death would be so bold as to take you, Professor," he teased, giving her a wink.
"Oh, be gone with you," she laughed, shooing him with her hands. Harry chuckled as he headed down the halls.
He found the burn mark she'd referenced and blanched. He could see why she wanted it gone. It appeared as though... no. He wouldn't think of that, because in a moment it wouldn't matter. It would be healed and, eventually, forgotten.
"Reparo."