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Chapter Text

It had been six months since Harry had quit school, or rather, dropped out from Auror Training. Because of that, and many other reasons to go with, it had also been four months since Ginny and he filed for a divorce. One could blame the fact they had married far too early, or that the chemistry between them was no longer there. Only, the chemistry was there. It had to be, because only chemistry could cause such atomic-bombs considered arguments. They simply hadn’t enough love to help them through the battles and tribulations. They couldn’t whether the storm, and that was okay.

Ginny just couldn’t stand the fact that Harry had dropped out. He was “throwing his life away”, and “not thinking of their future”. He was “being selfish”, and Harry couldn’t agree more. The year in therapy so far had helped him in more ways than anyone cared to admit, no matter how proud they were of him. It helped Harry realize that he had every right to be selfish now and then, especially after all that he had done. He had every right to think for himself, and his future as long as it was important enough to forgo his attempts in marriage. Admittedly it wasn’t worded like that by his therapist, but it might as well have been. He was confident in the path he was going down, and even more confident when he received a letter from none other than Headmistress McGonagall.

It was an early summers morning, the birds outside his flat on Brokenshire St. being as loud as they possibly could flapping by and croaking out in waves of slaughtering sounds. The familiar hoot of an owl was what pecked at Harry’s grumpish attitude, walking urgently to his kitchens window with a simple huff and a sigh. It wasn’t Hedwig. It was likely more legal papers, or letters from any number of the Weasley boys chewing him out or grieving him. There was even a chance it was Molly and Arthur hell bent on trying to stop the heartbreaking matters from occurring, or perhaps most hopeful of all, it was Hermione giving an update that she had succeeded in getting Ron to see sense. That was just a fantasy, Harry knew as much, but he could always dream.

As for why he did not currently inhabit 12 Grimmauld Place; renovations. He had the money to get it fixed up, so he would. Besides when the depression episodes hit, it wasn’t all that great to be in a home that reflected them. Instead it typically made them worse with all of the gloom & doom, and crumbling walls. It simply wasn’t appealing. So, Harry and Kreacher would live on 7th Brokenshire St. until the home was well furnished and fixed.

Sliding open the kitchen window to let in the tyto owl that held a lightly aged letter in it’s beak, Harry was naturally put on edge. The tyto owls, or otherwise referred to as barn owls, had always had an odd appearance in Harry’s opinion. They looked so unnatural, this one especially with it’s gold, light gray, and white feathers. Perhaps it was also uncomforting due to the fact it looked so regal, as if it belonged to some noble kingdom from another planet.

Either way Harry plucked the letter from it’s beak, giving it a few awkward brushes from the nub of his knuckle. He needed to pay it somehow…

“Kreacher!” He called out over his shoulder as he started to open the letter. The owl had no such appreciation for that, and pecked at his wrist so he’d stop. “Alright, alright, I’ll wait.”

“Master called?” Kreacher had scrambled in, attempting to look natural. He had been cleaning the long unwashed clothes of his master, and while he was curious about the new delivery, he would be as attentive as ever.

“Can you fetch the owl treats? Get all of them, I’m not sure what this boy–er–girl–eh, likes…” Harry was unused to the supposedly curious animal that leapt from the window sill to the sink faucet. It was looking around as if it was ready to move in. Kreacher had agreed to this new assignment, apparating away, and returning with a large magenta jewelry box. This box had multiple mini drawers with different labels, some of the tags saying things as wild as rat jerky, or frog feet. “Thanks, Kreacher. Just set it on the counter, will you?”

“Of course, Master Harry.” With everything settled, Harry waved his wand, letting all eight slots open themselves, and arrange onto the granite countertop.

“You can pick whatever you want, those are some of the other owls’ favorites, so—” but the owl was already hopping over, picking up a strand of lizard guts, and munching away. “Well, alright then.” Now it was onto the letter, finally.

Dearest Harry,

Do forgive my informality, though I believe after having fought a war together, and teaching you throughout your troublesome years, I have earned such a right. Onto the important matters: As I have been appointed the Headmistress of Hogwarts, it is one of my many duties to offer a job to those respectable enough when the need, or perhaps just the chance, arises. For what I have to say the staff and I have finally removed the curse from the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position, and I have heard by word of mouth, and also from the latest newspaper, that you have been looking around for a new career choice with not much bias as to what.

While I do give my sincerities to the Auror’s who have lost your appeal, I wish to offer you the teaching position for the Defense Against the Dark Arts. I believe it to be a position you would excel in, and as I hope for all of my students (both graduated and not) to succeed, I hope you will take my offer.

I will also make you aware that the owl I have sent this letter with is in need of a home. I had rescued her some weeks ago, but now that she is healthy and happy, it is time to give her up to someone new. I understand your heart still hurts for Hedwig, but perhaps the two of you can find some solace in one another. She is a fighter, Harry, and she reminds me plenty of you.

I ask to be given your response within the week. Though it is a big commitment, classes are coming on us quite rapidly, and as fate would have it you are the first on my list of trustworthy souls for the responsibility. Fate would also have it there is no other staff to take on the Head of Gryffindor role now that our last DADA professor has left, so truly, you are my best choice.

Sincerely - HM Minerva McGonagall

Naturally, Harry groaned. Why was fate so adamant on keeping him somewhere so disastrously him? While he would think about the opportunity so he would no longer need to dig into his families fortune, the clearly peckish owl in front of him was taking over most of his thoughts. She was an appreciated distraction, even if he wouldn’t act like it. He couldn’t just leave the girl homeless, and while Ms. McGonagall would be able to find her a home eventually, he didn’t want to keep sending Kreacher around to deliver letters. He had gotten many complaints about the elf’s behavior (even if Harry often took the elf’s side due to the people’s attitudes), an owl would go over better, and in the end cause less tension between parties.

He would write a letter at once. Ever the wise woman, McGonagall knew he would have to do as such if he was to keep the majestic looking bird. Only he was able to avoid giving a direct answer to the job offer just yet, and simply wrote that he would think it over. Before he could send the letter, he made sure to have some kind of magical bond with the creature, so she’d come back. He let her finish her meal and have some water before he sent her off. He would not be looking for any other jobs this morning, not with something as worthy as this being offered to him.

It wasn’t as if he had a lack of opportunities, instead it was a lack of passion. Having had the years he was intended to find an appreciation for a hobby or special interest being filled with war and pain, there wasn’t much Harry knew about himself. Being twenty-two and unsure of what you’re doing with your life is never a fun experience, as Harry was coming to find out. Besides, what was there to lose from one lousy year in being a professor? He was practically one already with having trained the members of the “army”.

“Oh, whatever, I’ll think it over.” He muttered to himself, having found his way to lean against his pale blue couch, and a warm cuppa coffee between his hands.

“Think what over, master?” Kreacher would ask softly, his magic dusting away at the fireplaces mantel.

“Being the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, Kreacher. That’s all…that’s all.” Sighing, he took another sip of his coffee, letting it warm up his burning tongue as the squawking of the tree birds outside flooded the room. "And damn those blasted birds."

Chapter Text

As if it was a surprise to anyone, Harry eventually accepted the job position. That is after almost forgetting to write the Headmistress to inform her he had accepted it. The credit for remembering to do so couldn’t be left to him as it was only thanks to his outing with Hermione over lunch at some newly famous witch’s café downtown. Harry shared with ‘Mione all about the letter over a toasted sandwich, that—with her most infamous exasperated sigh, and a shake of her head—she worried him: “Please tell me you wrote her back at some point.”

Well, he definitely had after that, because now with two days till the students arrived Harry stood outside the front gates of Hogwarts’ magical landscape grinning ear to ear. A piece of him was a tinge afraid, naturally so, but it was easily waved away with a “surely I’ve defeated all the monsters and evil things inside there” and a confident smile to force himself to be optimistic about what laid ahead. Suddenly a giant pan-sized hand pat on his back. With one big “oof” Harry nearly fell forward, catching himself in a stumble. Swiveling around on his heels, he faced the beaming half-giant.

“Hagrid!” Harry would cheer, reaching to hug the man as best as he could considering the size difference.

“Hiya, Harry.” And just like that, the hug was over. Harry stepped away, his pile of bags that Kreacher was continuously grabbing and apparating away with dwindling by the second. “S’mth’n tells me I wasn’t suppos’ta know you were comin’.”

“McGonagall did say something about that…” Well, this was embarrassing. Was Harry supposed to stay low? It hadn’t been all that clear until the Headmistress apparated on the lush grounds, striding up to the duo as elegantly as ever. Harry gave a slight nod of his chin her way. “Lovely to see you again, Headmistress.”

“Starting with the formalities so soon, Harry?” The elder woman smiled at him. She had attempted to keep in touch before he had dropped out of Auror training, and filed for a divorce soon after. The lack of contact wasn’t intentional during that time period, and mostly Harry’s fault for having not always responded. Either way they had nearly become friends, but not quite yet. They were at least on good terms. All of that to back up the awkward, boyish chuckle that left Harry as he rubbed the back of his neck. Hagrid clasped his shoulder encouragingly, simply glad he got to see the familiar face no matter the confusing surprise.

“I’m not all that sure what to call you now, Ma’am.” Harry responded honestly, trying his hardest to keep the amused womans gaze. He respected her, and the last thing he wanted to do was give the impression he didn’t.

“In front of students, Headmistress; in front of the rest of the staff you may call me Minerva. Though for the staff you do not fare well with, McGonagall will suffice.” Harry nodded at all of this with a gleeful smile. It would be different working here, as he knew almost everyone (much to the unknowing staff’s dismay), while also not quite knowing them. He wouldn’t need to worry all that much about first impressions except when it came to the students and workload. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right?

“Sounds great to me.” His cheerful response got a friendly chuckle from the half-giant clasping his shoulder, and just as he was about to say something more, Kreacher was finished.

“You’re all moved in, Master Harry.”

“Thank you, Kreacher. Be sure to get yourself settled as well. And stay low too, we’re snooping about until the students get here.” Adding a little wink, Harry got the house-elf sporting a mischievous grin as he apparated away. Now it was onto deciding what Harry should get done, of course settling in was one of his many duties, but between that and pre-work work, there wasn’t much to do.

“I’ll have to leave ya’, Har.” Hagrid started speaking, giving his shoulder a little shake and a pat. “Got some animals that need carin’ for.” As Hagrid started to walk away, he mimed zipping his mouth shut for Minerva’s sake. He’d be more than happy to keep this secret if it meant getting to see the looks on his colleagues faces when the truth was revealed.

“Yes, good day Hagrid.” Minerva waved the man off with a soft smile, returning her attention onto the new hire. “I will need to meet with you to discuss your lesson plan for this year before classes start, so I will be sending you a letter in due time. Please keep your calendar open in the meanwhile. As for now, you should slip into that invisible cloak of yours—which yes I know you brought with you—and find your way to your new quarters. The instructions to get there are in the informative letter I sent you earlier today. The second one—” Harry nodded as the woman fazed into her Headmistress voice to explain, and got to digging into his sweater pocket for the letter she was talking about. It gave a list of things the DADA students had been asked to get in preparation for the mystery teacher that would be joining them—so whomever the new professor was would not be left without something to go off of. It also told him a numerous list of things on what to take and/or give points for, basic rules, a list of guidelines for when it came to meals and other school-wide activities. It gave him things to think over as the new Head of Gryffindor, and proper etiquette during Quidditch competitions (something told him that tid-bit wasn’t shared with just any hire), not to forget the different school codes and how to act in certain situations when the need arose. Minerva and he both knew most of this was useless to him, no matter how much Harry would try, the knowledge no doubt went through one ear and out the other. “Yes, that letter there. I will have to leave you now before anyone gets too suspicious. The surprise you suggested will be quite worth it, I think.” She started to walk off as she talked. Stopping only to smile as she peered over her shoulder at the visibly excited young man. “It is lovely to have you back, Harry. It truly is.”

When the woman had successfully walked off, and Harry found it in himself to wrap the invisibility cloak around his sculpted body, he was quick to drop the mask. The castle was a horrid memory, and Harry had no idea how much he had been putting it off until this very moment. He hadn’t stepped a single foot on the property after the war, and just looking over the green grasses knowing that they had once been flooded by blood and dark magic was not a particular memory he liked to think too much on. He said a silent prayer of thanks that the Daily Prophet let the wizarding world know the very day that every ghost imprisoned from the war which had wandered the Hogwarts halls had eventually moved on.

Not to say the ghosts from before the war were in the next life as Harry came to find out, striding through the stone corridors he grew up in. He even heard the moanings of Myrtle as he passed that specific bathroom, a detour made simply to go down memory lane. While plenty memories here were terrible, even more of them were good.

He held onto those good memories in hopes he would never let them go.

Harry near pissed himself when a familiar, chilling pace echoed down the hall. The click, clacking of formally polished shoes froze the air in place. It was Severus Snape of all wizards, so Harry made sure to keep his cloak wrapped tightly around himself, nudged in the crook of a hall corner as billowing black cloaks matched with quickly muttered words passed him by. He tried to listen closely to see what the man was saying, but all he picked up on was “professor” and “missing”. Not very helpful, and not very promising either. If anything, it only gave Harry a sense of dread.

Was this blasted place cursed, or was Harry what brought the trouble? Either way it sounded as if—judging from the nonsensical mutterings of a man who saved his life on multiple occasions, and Harry saving his life once in return—this year was not going to be an easy one.

Finally!

Harry had been looking for a job that suited every one of his tastes, and it sounded as if the perfect thing just happened to land right in his lap.

⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

Those two days flashed by faster than Harry initially believed they would. It hadn’t taken him long to settle into his personal chambers (a one bedroom, one & a half bathroom, and living room + kitchenette set up), figure out some kind of lesson plan with Minerva’s assistance (which sadly wasn’t much of a plan at all), and get to exploring his poorly empty office, and even emptier classroom. It wasn’t like he could move into those places just yet, as from what he overheard the ghosts had started spying on the two rooms to see if anyone would enter those areas in the comings days. Blessed be the invisibility cloak Harry Potter was ever so lucky to inherit.

He got into some sort of plan on how he’d decorate, in fact he had glorious ideas involving the basilisk skeleton underneath the school. Which, he knew, would likely give poor Minerva a heart attack once she found out, even if there would be nothing wrong with it rulebook wise.

The next few hours leading up to the dinner—Harry dressed in his finest sweaters and trousers—were spent under the invisibility cloak, spying on his new colleagues who had yet to know of his presence. Only, they were all locked away in their offices or chambers readying themselves for the evening, pretending to not stress over their lack of a DADA professor. First impressions were ever so important, so at some point Harry had stopped by to visit Hagrid before dinner. Finding the man petting a young thestral buck behind his hut.

Once he was out of sight of the castles main grounds, he uncovered himself from the cloak. His freshly gelled hair and most put-together wear made him look deceivingly different than the chaotic student Hagrid new him to have been. The realization of Hagrid petting the thestral made Harry’s heart pang with a certain kind of sadness, and maybe even guilt. Something he forced himself to acknowledge later rather than at this very moment.

“Hey Hagrid.” Making the half-giant jump, the thestral seemed unbothered by the new presence and even paused from where it was grazing to nuzzle Harry’s palm a hello with it’s snout.

“Oi! Har! I wasn’t expectin’ ya’.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to come down before dinner either.” He chuckled softly, “I figured it wouldn’t hurt though since you’re still a ways away from the castle.” Hagrid seemed put off by the wording, but Harry wasn’t sure how to fix it, so he let it sit instead.

“Er, yeah, suppose so.”

“Honestly the nerves were just killing me, and I desperately needed a normal conversation.” The excuse seemed to work, getting the half-giant all cheer-y again. That was more like it, Harry thought. “So, what’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, nothin’ much. ‘Ave to avoid the others. ‘M not the greatest secret keeper and all.” Hagrid was chuckling at himself, so Harry let himself chuckle a tad as well while he found a feed barrel to lean up against. “That reminds me, there’s ‘Pparently been a missin’ key of some sorts that’s got all the others in a twist. Likely got somethin’ to do with them frettin’ over the new Defense teacher not around.”

“That would explain Snape’s mutterings the other day.” It was a shared thought, too used to speaking to himself or around others who were used to his mutterings.

“What’s that, Har?”

“Oh nothing,” He hadn’t realized it was a lie, “It’s nice getting to actually hear what’s happening instead of all the secrets.” Harry nearly sputtered the honest words,

“Well, er, you know why we had done it back then, right Har?”

“Well of course, yeah, I guess I couldn’t help myself from finding trouble. Then eventually that trouble just found me.” The implications were not lost on either men, and an awkward silence ensued. Both plagued with unsavory memories. It was a battle to clear the air. “I think the meeting scheduled before dinner is gonna start soon though, so why don’t we go together? I might as well sneak in while I can.”

That settled everything quite swell, and as Harry got to wrapping himself back up in the cloak, Hagrid guided them both to the staff room. Memories of his boggart lesson with Lupin occupied his mind as he stood absentmindedly in the back corner of the staff lounge. Though his attention was brought back to the active meeting when a slithering cool voice spoke up for what sounded like the first time that day.

“Minerva, when is it that this new professor of yours will decide to bless us with their presence?” The sarcastic undertones of Snape’s slow voice were proper and clear, only Harry wasn’t focussed on Minerva’s response, and instead on trying to hold back a disgruntled huff. If only he wouldn’t need to keep his identity a secret, he could give the man an undeserving what-for.

Only, he wouldn’t do that, nor would it be fair as he noticed the other staff (save for a torn Hagrid) agree with the Potion Masters query. Minerva quickly answered them with the fact that the man (the first hint she had given any of her colleagues) would be right on time for dinner. This settled not a single soul, not even the curious ghosts prying in on the meeting with intrigue. After the staff team had successfully removed the one-year curse on the job position, the desire to know who the likely permanent employee would be grew with every passing second.

The meeting had finished some time later, and while Harry should’ve been paying attention, he let his mind wander once again. Only this time it was to thoughts of his old Defense professors. Perhaps he could borrow a few of those rather valuable lessons they had taught him after all…

⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

Time passed by once again, but this time it was a wondrous feeling. Perhaps being invisible in the corner for the second time that day was not all that fun, but being back in the Great Hall (that looked remarkably like the version of it he saw in his first year) definitely was. And while he could always dwindle on memories of this area being used during the war, he preferred the memories of floatings pumpkins and candles, the Yule Ball, and even christmas breaks. They were much happier to dwell on, and put him in the right mood for such a big day.

Hagrid and Professor Sprout were missing from the table as they were to help guide the students into their proper positions and path ways to the school. The sorting hat was perched lazily on a wooden stool, reminding Harry of his childish fright in being sorted to Slytherin, even earning a soft snort from the otherwise hidden man. He really had been ridiculous at that age.

Of course nothing got past bat ears, and a scowl set on Severus Snape’s features. Turning in his seat, he twisted his curious sneer towards the sound. Harry swore the man saw right through that cloak by the way he was staring in his direction, even going as far as to make quiet theories in his mind that perhaps Nagini’s venom messed with Severus’s head so that he could see through the cloak.

Thankfully, the Potions Master looked away after finding nothing, and instead blamed it on the draft.

The doors swung wide open, chittering students of multiple colored robes filling the room in excited energies and words. They were certainly happy to be back, and their infectious optimism made it’s way to Harry, who was positively stuck in this corner for the next half hour, and was also starting to realize how badly he needed to use the restroom. Desperately trying to hold the urge back, he was thankful when Hagrid and Sprout made their way in with the first years behind them, and took their spots at the table so Minerva could start her speech.

Harry swore they were going sloth speed until finally, FINALLY, Minerva brought up the replacement for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Ever the dramatic soul, he started to tip-toe his way up to stand next to the woman who was attempting to slow her words so Harry could show himself. Instead he stayed hidden until she was gritting her teeth in impatience. She was certainly unimpressed with his “poor timing”, and the mutters of confusion filled the hall. Even the staff team shared unimpressed looks, and before he let regret overcome the headmistress, he finally decided to tear the cloak off of himself (of course standing right by her side), and folded it in his arms like he was just any old bloke doing laundry. It was hard to hold back a grin as the gasps and awes filled the room, and even harder not to glare at the scoff coming from the staff table. He didn’t need to look behind himself to know who it was.

“So sorry, Headmistress,” This was a rather fun game, and Minerva must’ve thought so too judging by her amused smile. “Simply reminiscing.”

The murmurs grew into excited gossip. The entire wizarding world knew who he was, even if he hated the fact. They knew him not only to be the-boy-who-lived, but the man-twice-lived, and also the man who killed the Dark Lord, and wrongly assumed the rest of the dark with it. Really all these claims did was bother Harry, but in this moment it gave him all he needed to be able to teach the class he was offered.

“You are quite alright, Professor Potter.” She hummed, returning her gaze to the unsorted first-years, then back to Harry as if she was reminiscing herself. “Do take a seat at the staff table before the Gryffindor’s leap from their seats to shake your hand.” It was no hard thing to put together that he would be the Head of Gryffindor, and now that he glanced at the table, it was as if every last red-cloaked student wanted to pounce on him and ask a million things. He was quick to take her suggestion.

“Of course, Headmistress.” Bowing his head, he turned to the table, and the guttural groan that left him was heard by every soul in the room. There was no earthly way he was sitting right next to that sneering bat all year. How had he not taken the time to notice the seating before? He had really hoped that it was Hagrid or Sprout’s seat while they were gone, even when they had gone and sat at the complete opposite end of the table when they returned. Naturally as it was the only seat open, save for the Headmistresses seat smack in the center, it was his to take. Harry wasn’t so positive he wanted to.

“Potter.” Came the indignant growl of the sneering Snape, his black eyes needles when he glared at the new employee. He had no such appreciation for the seating arrangements either, but judging by the rather entertained expressions of the invested students, they were obsessed with the downright entertaining events.

“Snape.” Harry spoke it just as sourly as Severus did his. They would stand there, glaring, with Harry gripping his cloak in his clenched fist, and Snape gripping his mid-raised goblet. It took the clearing of the Headmistresses throat to finally push Harry to stalk forward, his eyes never leaving the bitter man as he sat in forceful, sharp movements next to the Professor. This was a terrible thing. It truly was.

After both men came to the conclusion that if they didn’t look at one another, they could pretend the other didn’t exist, they relaxed just barely. More importantly they could forget about the war, the statement over Harry’s eyes, and the saving of Severus’s life—all details both men had no interest in facing. They forget about all of those terrible things, and instead focused on the students being sorted before them.

Naturally Harry was proud to have gotten so many new Gryffindor’s in the house, while Sprout grumbled about having two less first years than she had the year before. Harry couldn’t help but notice how Gryffindor and Slytherin almost tied in the amount of students, Slytherin having one over the former.

Harry wasn’t so prejudice when it came to differently housed students, as his colleagues would come to find. His prejudice ended with Snape, and Snape alone. Not that there was much sense to it after both men had seen and heard of the others experiences, and especially when Harry cleared the professors name so that he would not be sent to Azkaban like the Death Eaters. It was all boiled down to the fact it was the only typical thing anymore, and they both rather liked the idea of normal. Harry only liked normal on special occasions, and the off monday, while Severus had an appreciation for it like no other. When the world was normal, one could do abnormal things without regret.

Little did they both know that they thought the same way, and little did they care. The hate brewed between them was a silent agreement to let something stay the same, for the sake of all else.

Dinner went on without a hitch, and before Harry knew it, he was cozied up in his classroom. Only it wasn’t just his classroom, because Harry Potter was a professor, and professors did not have curfews. This professor in particular needed to decorate.

So he snuck away and down under the school into the eerily dark Chamber of Secrets to quickly fetch the rotting Basilisk skeleton, casting a preserving spell on it as the bones floated behind him like a flying skeletal serpent. He didn’t get far without moaning Myrtle crying out after him, and how he may be older but he was still rather handsome. All the blubbering of the ghost went ignored, and he continued on his way with the large skeletal system behind him.

It was a few simple spells to get it through the doorway, and casting a few charms on the massive structure to get it to float right beneath the ceiling. He was both amazed and frightened for his younger self at the fact it curled near the classrooms edge multiple times. So much so he had to find a way to shrink it some, and get it so the head of the animal (that was missing a fang after Harry thought back on that particular adventure) would hang just over his desk as if it was watching the students, and deciding whom it would feast upon. That would definitely be a fun effect. Well, fun for him anyways.

After that, he got to waving his wand around so that the collected dust would be perfectly disposed of inside a trash bin near the doorway. The minimum details would have to do for now, besides, the basilisk skelton was quite the eye-catching phenomenon even if the walls were bare. All that was left to do for now was leaving a few little tchotchkes around his desk, and on the full bookshelves (most of the leftover books being by Gilderoy Lockhart, to his dismay), not forgetting the windowsills that he would soon find plenty of plants to occupy. To Harry, this was turning out quite nicely.

Off to bed with a proud grin, he already knew what his first lesson was going to be. In fact, it was all thanks to his old professor Lockhart. Those extra books would surely come in handy.

Chapter Text

The days soon passed, and morning after morning of breakfast next to Severus Snape (who only ate oatmeal with a pinch of cinnamon), was naturally disliked by the Defense professor. While they made points to ignore each others’ presence, the stray cough or clang of silverware that happened to be just a bit too loud never failed to annoy both men. In fact, the morning of first-day classes was a terrible morning indeed.

Harry was half way through his breakfast burrito, licking the juice from his lips and cleansing his palette with a protein shake made to taste like cookies and cream. He had been doing swell in ignoring his bat-like colleague when a ruckus was caused at the Gryffindor table below. Soon shouting ensued, which bothered both men greatly.

With an annoyed sigh, Harry let his burrito drop messily onto his plate, a few egg bits and cut up sausage jumping from their nestled spot to splay across the table. Severus did his best not to be distracted by what could’ve been an easily-avoided mess, and sternly tapped the side of his spoon against the bowl’s rim, setting it on the serving plate beneath the dish.

Both men made their way down to the ruckus, journeying by different table spaces to keep their distance. After all when a Gryffindor got to yelling across the table at a Slytherin, what were the Heads of the Houses to do? If only one of them handled it, it’d be considered unjust in the eyes of such arrogant students.

As if powerful magic had done it, all of the Great Hall went silent when the professors stopped near the outskirts of the scene. Snape was across the table, glowering down at his obnoxious Slytherin student while Harry huffed his annoyance at his own Gryffindor.

“What is the meaning of this?” Snape would ask, his words sending a visible shiver up the students spines—no one wanted to be caught by him of all teachers.

“He started it, professor!” The blonde Slytherin girl cried out when he found her tongue, reminding Harry far too much of a certain Malfoy he once knew. What was Draco doing these days, anyway? Harry didn’t have the time to ponder on that, as his own troublesome student retorted fiercely with a;

“Did not!”

Did Ron and him sound this childish when they were second years too? He remembered their arguments to be far more intense.

“Oh hush, no one cares who started it, only why it begun in the first place.” Harry’s uncharacteristic bitterness surprised himself, so instead he shook his head in ridicule, looking between both students. “Believe me; you want to answer. Else there are consequences I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” He lightened up just slightly, giving an encouraging smile. The Gryffindor’s seemed to relax now that he wasn’t being harsh. He had even got an agitated Gryffindor girl with short, curly black hair to clear her throat and explain the situation.

“Genevive Avery here was just telling everyone how she doesn’t believe you to be the best teacher for the DADA job, Professor.” The girls piercing blue gaze (that looked an awful lot like a mermaids) was starting to freak Harry out. She was a little Hermione, and while he loved his dear friend, he was starting to understand why the staff were quick to be weary of her in their school years.

“Is this true, Avery?” Harry would ask the blonde girl, noting with annoyance at how Severus had no intention on stepping in now that the reasoning was out in the open. Right, he doubted Harry just as much as his students.

“It is, sir.”

“And why is that?” Harry would ask, a tad amused even if Severus’s lack of participation grated him. Whatever reason the girl seemed to have for her opinion would do him wonders. The articles and papers floating around about him being the new Defense professor were all praises and “we should have known”’s. Finally someone would see it for what it was—

“Because an ex-death eater would have been a better choice for us to learn from when it comes to the Dark Arts.” Avery’s confidence was getting her fellow students to murmur, and while Snape was scowling at this finding, Harry was grinning.

“You have every right to this opinion of yours, Avery. However, as I’ve defeated many death eaters in my time, I do believe I’ve got the whole defense-thing in the bag.” Winking, the grin spread across his face got a few confused looks from his house’s students, even the Slytherin’s looked at him as if he was mad. “Five points to Slytherin for confidence, and sticking to what they know.”

“Five points from Slytherin for disrespecting a professor.” Snape added coldly, turning his glare onto his colleague. “Though five back to Slytherin for honesty.”

“Being challenging, are we?” Harry bit, a snarky smirk crossing him now that Snape took over his attention. “Well, I’ve ought to give Gryffindor five points for loyalty, and honesty as well from Miss—” Glancing over at the curly haired girl, he raised a brow for her name.

“Calypso Lestrange.” Harry hummed at her answer, not thinking long over it. Even if all he could think of was Bellatrix Lestrange and that mess of a woman, he would do his best not to hold it against the girl.

“Miss Lestrange.” Flickering his gaze back onto his unimpressed colleague, he couldn’t help the pride swelling in his gut. “I’d say that’d make us even, no?”

“Very well, Potter. Let’s hope your students here can hold their own in their classes.” With the students long forgotten, and a half-hearted verbal skirmish tied, Severus walked back to the staff table only to be reminded of the mess Potter had made. The annoyance that came from it enveloped the bat in bitter waves. Harry didn't watch him long when he noticed how both Lestrange and Avery scowled at one another, and the jockish student who had attempted to defend his pride earlier was all flustered and shy around him now.

“Ajax, do close your jaw. You look like a dunderhead.” Calypso ordered the other second year, rolling her eyes as she returned to her meal. Ajax of course listened to her, and got back to eating while Harry walked off, thinking about his old school friends. He had so many ideas for future lessons, and now that he thought on it, a good portion would need the help of his dear friend Luna.

⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

“Settle down, settle down.” Harry would start in, smiling as he leaned against his desk. It was the first day of classes, and while the students were still in awe of the giant basilisk skeleton floating just above their heads, he was too excited to give them an extra five minutes to ooh and awe. “Take a seat now, and please notice the books at your desks.”

The books in question were the old Gilderoy Lockhart books left behind from Harry’s second year. No one had any use of them after the acclaimed celebrity and author was found out to be a liar. It certainly hadn’t bothered Harry that the novels were there as this only meant a perfect lesson; fluid and reflectful.

Making sure all of the students were settled into their respective desks, he gave a wave of his wand, and the books started to float languidly in front of the surprised children's faces.

“Can someone raise their hand and read me a title?” Just as he asked a golden brown hand raised itself into the air, belonging to a cocky Ravenclaw sporting a haughty smile. “Yes, you, Mister..?”

“Nip Mintz, sir.” The boy answered, but got right to answering the question. “I have Mr. Lockhart’s book; Holidays with Hags.” Harry nodded at that, and pointed to another raised hand.

“Miss Lestrange, your book?”

“Travels with Trolls, sir.”

“Very good, and you?” He waved an empty hand to another Ravenclaw who was a little shyer than the others, and definitely did not have his hand raised.

“Er, the Voyages with Vampires, sir.”

“Right, and can anyone tell me what all of these books have in common?” Harry asked, biting back a smile, knowing exactly what he was going to be doing with these books in no time at all. It was all so exciting with the knowledge he could do something so brazen. It’s as if he could do any little desire he had in his school years, and turn it into some kind of lesson simply because he wished to.

When no hands were raised, and most students shared a confused look with one another, Harry snickered and waved his hand.

“C’mon, make a guess. I don’t doubt that you’ve lot got no idea why this is important—saying you’re only second years. It’s been a full decade since the news was blasted across the paper, it doesn’t even effect you kids anymore, but I’m sure someone can come up with some kind of guess.” The rambling was unintentional, though helpful determined by the few tentative hands that were raised. “Mister Mintz, what do you guess?”

“Well…they are all written by Gilderoy Lockhart…”

“That’s not it, someone else?” Only both of the other hands raised lowered just as Harry had waved off the first guess. Sighing, he stood to his full height, kicking off of the desk. His eyes flickered just barely to the skeleton hanging above his head, perhaps he was still a tad spiteful at the failed professor from his second year. “Here is the answer; every book you see floating in front of you is an exaggeration, a piece of fiction.” Walking behind his desk, one of the drawers flew open for his perusal just as the books fell onto the students desks in a combined thud. “The man who wrote them was a connman, and got himself quite the following because of his stories. Now, can someone tell me why I am telling you this?” Lestrange’s hand shot into the air.

“Yes, Lestrange?”

“Shouldn’t you already know that, sir?” While it was an improper challenge, and one that got a chuckle from the other students, Harry happened to chuckle along with them.

“Why yes, of course, I would just like to see how much my students know by themselves.” He answered this as he pulled out a candybar from his drawer, and nodded to the girl. “So, because you raised your hand, give it a go. Why am I showing you these books, and what does lying have to do with this class?”

“You don’t like liars.” Harry chuckled at that sheltered response and nodded.

“True, I do not. Though that’s not what I’m getting at either.” Then another hand was raised tentatively into the air. It was the shy ravenclaw boy from earlier. “Ah yes, give it a go, Mister..?”

“Negan Lock, Sir.” The boy answered, “And I believe you’re telling us all of this, because lying…lying is…” Harry let him try to get the words out, though as he seemed to be struggling, he added an assuring nod to get him to continue. “It’s a bad thing to do.” While the boy blushed at the mocking laughter that followed, Harry refused to laugh at him, and instead nodded. This one reminded him of Neville, with no doubt about the resemblance.

“That’s right, a point to Ravenclaw.” Well that shut the other students up quickly. “Though to elaborate; lying is a gateway to other things. It’s a cover, and while it can be used as a way to not offend others, it’s best to be honest than to lie.” The students weren’t following, so with a sigh, Harry set his candy bar down. “Lying is dangerous, and in the most blatantly obvious way I can put it; I have lied before. I doubt there is a person in this world who hasn’t lied. Only, I know from my own experiences, and from Gilderoy Lockhart nearly getting me and my friends killed out of his own cowardice and lies—” That got a surprised gasp from the class, “Lying is it’s own kind of dark magic.” He let that simmer for the students, and smiled when even Lestrange was reflecting on his words, Ajax sitting in awe next to her. “So without further ado,” Waving his wand, a giant metal trough appeared in front of Harry’s desk between him and the students. “Bring up your Lockhart books, and toss them into the bucket.”

⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

By the time he did the lesson with his next class, and the class after that, all of the leftover Lockhart books were burnt to ash in the trough. The school was abuzz with the new teaching style, and many murmurs were wondering if such slandering lessons were approved of by the headmistress at all. His first lesson had left quite the impression, having furthered into ways lying and manipulation are often the starting hints of trouble or danger, and how such things were not to be tolerated. The students loved it.

Harry was chatting away with Filius Flitwick in the corridors as the trough full of ash floated behind him. Eventually Minerva walked up to them both, an amused glimmer in her eyes. By now she had surely heard the rumors spread about his first lesson of the year, and had gathered her own opinions.

“Professor Potter,” She started, eyeing the trough of book ash. “I hear you started make s'mores in your classroom today.”

“Ah! Headmistress,” He’d grin, the students attempting to eavesdrop as they walked unnaturally slow past them towards their next class. Harry was appreciative to be done with classes for the morning. “I simply couldn’t say no to all of the pleadings from my second period’s wishes. They were quite happy to make s’mores after hearing about—”

“The rather apparent, and very popular, Basilisk skeleton in your classroom?”

“It was slightly shrunken, but yes. They quite liked learning that I had defeated it in my second year. Though, don’t worry, I didn’t tell my second year class that just in case they attempted anything.”

“Oh I’m sure they’ve all heard by now.” Filius chortled, glancing over at the snickering students as they walked by, poorly hiding their proud smiles.

“Yes, and I am sure Salazar Slytherin is turning in his grave.” Minerva would add with a careful smirk, “Where is it that you are taking those ashes? I am sure our Potions Master would be more than kind to take them off your hands.” That may be true, but Harry had no desire to help Snape, so he shrugged, and answered honestly.

“Hagrid told me about the Fire-Dwelling Salamanders he had found earlier in the year, and that they needed a bunch of ash to burrow in or else they start getting grumpy in the cold weather. I decided to lend him some good ol’ book-ash to save him the agitation.” Smirking, the floating trough wriggled in emphasis like a full candy bag thanks to magic.

“I see, and why is it that Hagrid has such animals?” With wide eyes, Harry mimed zipping his mouth shut, and walked off with a bitten smirk. He wasn’t going to share Hagrid’s secrets any more than he would’ve during school.

⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

Before Harry could put a stop to it he was helping chop wood for Hagrid’s class. The students would be witnessing the Fire-Dwelling Salamanders as a start of the year treat, and Hagrid could use all the help he could get. Only, while Hagrid was going over safety precautions, Harry was hacking away at a log. His white button up being sweat through, his sleeves rolled up as the gel in his hair was melting off under the end of summer sun, and the curls he’d carefully groomed that morning were starting to pop up in chaos. His cloak was thrown somewhere atop the uncut log pile, and his vest was unbuttoned over his white long sleeve.

He had to breathe heavily through his nose to look composed, even when realization was coming to him that it had been some time since he last used his biceps like this. A silent promise was made to himself that he’d have to help Madame Hooch with her flying lessons, and Sprout in her gardens, not to forget Hagrid with his animals if he wanted a chance to keep the bod he liked so much when he was younger.

A commotion started up, so Harry paused. Looking up he saw the class become a pack of squirming students when a man-bat strode ever nearer, permanently frowning at Hagrid as if he’d done something inherently wrong.

“Minerva told me that if I wanted any ashes for my potion storage, I would find them best here.” The slithering words compelled the entire area to attention, encouraging Hagrid to clear his throat so he’d best respond as coolly as possible. No one here wanted to be the bearer of bad news for the Potions Master. No one except possibly Harry, if he dared use his dwindling energy on the matter.

“Ah, er, well, we’re sort of usin’ ‘em for class today, Snape. Though we can send ‘em to ya’ when the Sal’manders aren’t needin’ ‘em.” His answer was awkward and embarrassed, so Harry started to walk over in show of his support. The simple action nabbed him a sneer from the potions professor.

“Are you incapable of looking decent, Potter?” The scathing remark got some stifled laughter from the Slytherin’s in the class, but Harry’s smirk shined bright in return.

“Quite capable, Snape. Though it tends to get hot working under the sun, don’t ‘cha think?” Tsking, the proud smirk didn’t leave him, “But that’s right, you never seem to leave your bat cave.”

“I am out here, aren’t I? Or are you hallucinating once again?” That challenge got Harry to take a defensive step forward, but Hagrid held a hand out to stop him, even when the man-bat smirked in pride.

“I wasn’t going to attack him, Hagrid.” Harry muttered breathlessly, “I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“Might as well be with that tendency for immaturity.”

“Ohhhh, I’m the immature one, Snape?” The cold laughter from Potter put those in attendance on edge, or at least made them miserably uncomfortable. The only ones unaffected were Potter, Snape, and Hagrid. Though Hagrid was rather disappointed with this back and forth going on when the professors were supposed to be examples for the students.

“Er, Harry, I’ll be gettin’ back to class now.” With a polite nod, Harry got the hint. So he huffed, looking back at the glaring bat, letting the tension simmer between them as if to make a point, and finally got back to work with hacking away at the wood. He didn’t notice when the bat finally left.

⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

By the end of Hagrid’s second class, and dinner coming in close, Harry was dabbing a cool rag to his forehead and wiping his fogged glasses off on a rag. Leaning against a barrel, the work he had put himself through most of the days afternoon created a glow over his skin beneath the setting sun. He was waiting for Hagrid to finish putting the Salamanders in their cage (as they had been playing around in the trough full of both burnt wood ash and book ash) when he finally spoke up.

“Head to dinner, yeah?” Harry would ask with a soft heave of his breath. There had to be plenty of wood cut to keep those fires going, and though it wasn’t hard to keep up, his arms were definitely sore.

“Oh, sure Har.” Hagrid would say cheerfully after returning from wherever he had put the Salamanders. “Did you ever find out about that key?”

“What ke—oh! No, actually Minerva never talked to me about that.” Speaking sorely, as if the fact had bruised him in some way. He had wanted to think the secrets would stop with this new position, but so far it didn’t sound like that. “No one except you has, actually.”

“Oh, er, well it’s probably just a surprise she’s got for you then…” Hagrid wasn’t sure how to fix this, so the awkward air would sit for a moment. Neither of them were entirely sure on how to proceed with this unusual information.

“Do you know what the key is for?” Harry eventually questioned, grabbing his robe as they started walking back to the castle for meal time.

“ ‘Fraid not.”

Harry didn’t want to believe it, but he knew when Hagrid was lying.

Chapter Text

Of all the things Harry could’ve done to pass his free time during the season change, it certainly wasn’t this. Fostering an animal. In the nature of his repetitive mind that couldn’t dare think about anything else—an animal. Not just an ordinary, complimentary pet. No, he was taking charge of an animal either most unexpected or easily foreseen by even the most unintelligent of minds. He was fostering a newly hatched basilisk for Hagrid. The half-giants reasoning was that Harry was the only one on school property who could speak parseltongue.

The ministry had passed the disastrous creature onto Hagrid as their court case continued trilling over what to do with such a deadly beast. No witch or wizard in England—within their right mind—wanted the animal on their territory, but where would it go? Across the world, or six feet below? To the Ministry, Hagrid was arguably the safest person to care for the animal as he lived full time on Hogwarts property. Or, as Minerva would like to say, it was a way for the Ministry to test if she could keep the school “just as safe as Dumbledore had”. Not to have mentioned the entirety of two wizarding wars the deceased man had fostered, or anything like that…

Though this was only a new occurrence. One that prompted a magnificently large terrarium to be built within the DADA classroom just behind Harry’s cluttered desk, where he currently sat grading papers.

The scritching feather pens were an orchestra of tweens unused to how much pressure they needed to use on traditionally made paper, mumbling thoughtlessly under their breaths, or breathing too loud once they zoned out on a particularly difficult question. A depressive, bothersome, annoying, agitating sound that had Harry thinking up a million other synonyms to prove he just didn’t like the quiet. Children taking tests—yuck.

He hated tests enough as a student, and he’d learned to hate them even more as a professor. Glaring at an open-answered question from his previous class left unanswered, it was a sorely empty view on his messy desk. The slytherin student he was grading had skipped over it, with no thought for what would come of her oversight. The rest of the test had been answered, and if Harry remembered correctly—which he did as today had been exceptionally boring thus far—this student was one of the few who had turned their tests in early. A special little irony that the professor noticed was that the unanswered question was on potions.

A twist started to form in the corner of Harry’s lips, thinking of all the ways this day could now go, because right before him was a weapon. A tool. Something that would bring him extraordinary entertainment, to the point he rose from his cushioned rolling chair, and clutched that very test in his hand. Snape wouldn’t have a class at this hour. No, the professor would be in his grimy lab.

“Keep on with your tests, everyone. I will be back to collect them before the bell.” He strode out of the class, his smirk growing into a grin. There was a skip in his step with the knowledge he’d get to ruin one particular mans day for the pure excuse of annoyance. Not only would Harry get to mock Snape’s teaching abilities, he’d be intruding on important alone time the Potions Master often left available to work on his “personal projects”.

⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

September was beginning, and all mention of missing keys had been left behind. It was of no concern to Harry who had just recently come to believe not everything needed to be a mysterious adventure. He would leave secret issues to their secrecy.

Instead he was now watching the house-elves disable the newly emptied terrarium, trying his best to not worry over where the baby basilisk had been sent. He promised Hagrid and the Ministry he wouldn’t get attached to the sweet little thing, but between him and his classroom’s four walls, it’s little hisses would live happily in his swollen heart. A little piece of him would always be warm to Princess Sssharlotte, even if the students had begun a little mocking game for his softness.

A melodic knock sounded at the classroom door, the carved slab of wood being pushed open before Harry exclaimed his permission to enter. It was Nip Mintz, Negan Lock, Ajax Miller, and Calypso Lestrange in the flesh. Naturally, Calypso was at the head of their little friend group, and wore a most chilling frown.

“Professor Potter, we need your help.” She demanded, folding her red-cloaked arms and raising her righteous chin. It was hard to take a twelve year old seriously, especially when they truly believed themselves to be all powerful. They were just…small.

Pfft, no wonder the professors hadn’t taken him and his friends seriously as kids. Though because of that, Harry forced himself to take all of his students seriously. No matter how ridiculous.

“Very well then, tell me what’s wrong.” His exasperation was evident, stretched over every inch of himself, and every line within his skin. He sat himself behind his desk, ignoring the whispered bickering of the house elves behind him.

“Professor Snape gave us detention for no reason!” Nip Mintz proclaimed before Calypso could even open her pouting mouth, weaseling his way to the front and down the steps into the classroom.

“Well, that’s not entirely true…” Negan muttered before being overpowered by Ajax, who was equally as offended.

“He said it was because we were too annoying!”

Harry rubbed his temples, nodding along in an attempt to be understanding, but also (reluctantly) seeing the point Snape had made with the detention. There had to be more, of course, as the Headmistress would demand more of a reason for a detention to be handed out, but this was the students lived experience, and Harry (reluctantly) had to respect that.

“Yes, and did he say anything more about this detention other than that?” He attempted to keep his voice feathery light so he wouldn’t come across half-annoyed as he was.

“He did.” Calypso began, having glared both Nip and Ajax back into position. She was cut off once again.

“He said it was for interrupting assignment time, but he never said we had to be quiet! We were in groups!” Negan’s outburst got wide-eyes all around, used to the boy being on the shyer side, though his red-cheeks communicated just how upset he was by the perceived injustice.

With a disgruntled sigh, Harry stood. Pinching the bridge between his nose, and readjusting his glasses after they’d been pushed. He began to walk around his desk. He despised having to be the one to confront the specific colleague, especially with the hate spewed between them. Anything they did was in short of the other, nothing positive ever came towards their fellow enemy when the other was involved, and while Harry often got spurts of inspiration to play their game, today felt far too tiring to do so. Alas, he had responsibilities as a teacher.

“Very well, I will speak with him. Come along.”

⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

“Absolutely not, Potter, leave my lab at once—” Snape was cut off by the team of students behind an absurd looking Harry Potter. The man was the epitome of displeasure. His eyes half-lidded, his hair gelled back with a few spare strands loose from the tiring day, and a forced line on his lips that was there to keep him from frowning. Snape smirked, because by proxy, he was the one to upset the man so. “Bothered are you?”

“Shut it, Snape.” Potter would’ve loved to use vulgar obscenities instead, yet with an audience of children, it would certainly be frowned upon. “I would love to hear why you gave these students detention?”

“That is hardly your place.” Snape snipped, glaring and knowing it was true. Harry knew it too, but with the slight widening of his eyes, Snape could tell he had only now remembered. “If you have any complaints about my methods, you may bring it up with the Headmistress.” Snape sneered, turning his focus to the students who all cowered behind the other Professor except for their leader, “That goes for you as well.”

“No, I’m not doing this with you—” Harry began, his wide eyes having narrowed down on Snape’s black ones. His hand jutted out to catch the door before it could be slammed closed, a frustrated huff leaving between his lips. “The students have claimed it an injustice, and as I know you—”

“Hardly,” Snape scoffed, rolling his eyes as Harry ignored him.

“I am sure their claims hold some semblance of reasoning. After all, your methods are atrocious, as are you habits—” He lifted his head to hint at the lab Severus was denying them the ability to see into. “And you’re over all a terrible teacher.” Harry ignored the entertained, and frightened gasps from the students behind him.

“Did he just..?” Nip Mintz whispered to his friends, the sentence dying out as Severus Snape began to spit out his response.

“And you, Potter? You find yourself such a grand mentor to these students? Half the time you are improvising, because you have absolutely no idea what you are doing, and the other half you are doing some ridiculously dangerous thing like fostering a basilisk in your classroom full of students. You did not go to a school for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the position was wrapped in a bow and handed to you for all of your foolish, Gryffindor bravery provided during a war. Time and time again you prove to me that rather than being brave and courageous, as perhaps a good Gryffindor would be, you are foolhardy and terribly—terribly—immature. And I will go even further to say—”

“Oh, fuck you, Snape.”

“I have no problem throwing obscenities, Potter, as you are an even bigger piece of shit than your father was—”

“Men!” A familiar, feminine voice bellowed down the dungeon hallway. The students rushed to her side, as though they were in danger of being insulted next. “Please mind your surroundings next time you begin arguing, otherwise I will have both of your notices on my desk by tomorrow morn—” Harry and Severus did not have time to defend themselves before Minerva ordered; “See me in my office at five-o’clock sharp.” She ushered the students away, her apologies on their behalf being heard in the distance.

A cold, angered look passed between them, and Harry removed his hand from the door just as it was slammed in his face.

“Bastard.” Harry had muttered, just quiet enough to not be heard.

When five o’clock came, Harry was dressed in his formal robes for dinner. Long, dark brown robes that hugged his figure and were lined and embroidered by copper thread. The under shirt was cream, overlaid by a murky black vest that showed when Harry moved just the right way. He had fixed his hair once again, slicked back into a solid block with only one loose strand to bounce over his eyes. His shoes were painted brown-leather boots with cream laces, depicting a moving scene of a Lion and Fox. And underneath the skirt of the robes were the formal trousers that matched his palette perfectly, blending in with the rest of it no matter how he moved.

“Looking dashing, Harry.” Professor Sprout complimented as she passed him in the halls, her sun hat drooping, and her lovely fall-collored outfit dirtied by the gardens.

“As do you, Pomona.” Harry dipped his chin, shining that wining grin of his as he passed by. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve a meeting to make!”

“Naturally,” Pomona charmed, rolling her eyes at the familiarity with a smile, and going on her way.

Severus Snape was already in the office when Harry Potter swung open the door. He was tapping his foot, and his fingers too. Clicking them against the stone floors and the wooden armrest, glowering through his brows, and practically snarling when his eyes landed on Potter.

“You’re late,” Minerva and Severus stated in unison.

“By a minute,” Harry added, smiling as he took a seat across from Minerva, ignoring everything about Severus Snape’s presence. “Did I miss anything?”

“Only everything.” Snape snipped, getting a motherly stare from Minerva for the outburst.

“Well I didn’t ask you, now did I?” Harry righteously added with a raised chin.

“Enough,” Minerva bellowed, slamming a hand down upon her desk. It shocked both men into silence, though Harry was the only one who looked her way while Severus glared at his perceived enemy, unbothered. “Both of you have been going non-stop since the beginning of this year. From what I hear, even going out of your way to ruin each others days just for the hell of it.” She shushed Harry’s open mouth ready to protest with a raise of her hand, “It has begun to negatively impact the students. I mean seriously, men, you have now cussed each other out in a pent up rage over absolutely nothing in front of students belonging to two different houses! Have you even heard the stories being spun around these halls because of it? It has hardly been a full day and I have damage control being done all so the parents of our students do not get a single whiff of, what? This…rivalry, between you two? I’d hardly even call it that, but what else shall I proclaim it?” She let out a deep exhale to cool herself down, raising another hand to cut Snape off from making whatever point he wished to make. “This is why something must be done. You are both incredible teachers, and surprisingly your…hate…for one another has done something to the students, or perhaps even your teachings, as the grades for your respective classes have never been higher. I cannot risk the school ranking in having you leave—either one of you—” Her eyes glimpsed between both men, as though having read their thoughts on being much better Professors than the other, “And so I have decided on a wonderful course of action. Each day between classes, in your shared off period, you will be charmed to stay within close proximity of one another. I will have it so magic will decide on a whim whoever is in charge of where you go that day, and also how close you must stay. In this I hope—”

“Absolutely not,” Harry puffed out, “I am sorry McGonagall, but I absolutely refuse to—”

“He’s an absolute child, so I must say no to this.”

“You self-righteous men,” She muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes and glaring at a chortling Dumbledore portrait. “Neither of you have a choice on the matter, so you will simply have to deal with your misgivings. As I was saying—this is intended to help desensitize you to each others behavior. Not to make you friends, not to entirely rid you of this…this relationship, but to ensure you do not have anymore outbursts in front of the students. Especially not one where obscenities are thrown around.” The silence that ensued was a bit of a shock to Minerva, not having expected them to obey her so easily.

“When does this begin?” Snape hissed out,

“Tomorrow.” She proclaimed, though Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“But you said between classes. Tomorrows a weekend.”

“Yes, well, hm…” She thought about that, an all-too familiar twinkle in her eyes. “I suppose along with magic deciding what proximity you both will have to be in, it will decide what time on weekends as well. The randomness will certainly help acclimate you, I’m sure.”

“What next, will you offer us lemondrops, Minerva?” Snape sneered, daring a fierce glare towards the Dumbledore portrait across the office.

“Oh, yes, I should refill that canister, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably best if you don’t…” Harry muttered, daring to look in Dumbledore’s direction, and then quickly back to his lap.