Chapter Text
Harry reluctantly took a seat at the table at the back of the History of Magic classroom.
The lesson was pointless. Professor Binns would never notice if he wasn't there, and Harry wasn't particularly keen on being surrounded by people who thought he was a liar, an idiot who couldn't get through a single year without some homicidal maniac trying to kill him.
Not that it seemed to make much difference, since homicidal maniacs had a habit of finding him regardless.
Instead of the ghostly professor, someone else walked into the classroom.
His dark hair was slightly untidy, as though the wind, or perhaps a sleepless night, had tried and failed to tame it. His eyes, an unexpectedly pale shade of blue, seemed to notice everything. Not in an unsettling way, but enough to leave an impression.
He wore a dark green shirt over a plain black T-shirt, an outfit that somehow managed to look both professional and completely indifferent to the rules of academic fashion.
He had a short, neatly trimmed beard that made him look a little older, though not enough to stop him looking exactly the sort of professor students like Lavender and Parvati would develop a crush on. A second version of Lockhart.
When he looked up at the class, there was that brief moment of collective silence that came whenever everyone was trying to work out whether a course was going to be easy, impossible, or the most interesting thing they'd study all year. Nobody had reached a conclusion yet.
He, on the other hand, looked as though he already had.
"Good morning, everyone." The professor's voice was deep. He made no move to sit behind the desk or reach for a textbook, as every other teacher Harry had ever known did when it was time for the theoretical part of the lesson. "As I imagine you're all aware, Professor Binns is no longer really in a position to continue teaching. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to step in and help."
His gaze swept across the classroom.
"I don't expect your attention, of course, but you will not disrupt the lesson, and you will remain quiet. If you'd rather spend that silence writing a list of the ten best outfits you wore last year, that's perfectly fine by me. Just don't disrespect those who actually want to learn."
Harry felt his eyebrows shoot upwards. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione sit up a little straighter, while quite a few students, or at least those who weren't already staring dreamily at the professor, looked distinctly unimpressed by the implication that they were actually expected to pay attention in History of Magic.
"Right then, let's begin." The professor smiled. It made him look much younger. "My name is Merlin Ambrosius."
****
"Mr Potter, could you stay behind for a moment?"
Harry sighed, though he was relieved Professor Ambrosius hadn't asked him to stay while everyone else was still in the classroom. That would have been embarrassing.
"Sir?" Harry asked, folding his arms as he waited patiently in front of the desk for the professor to speak.
"I hate having to ask this, but I have to." The professor sighed before looking Harry straight in the eye. "Did you put your name into the Goblet?"
"No, I didn't," Harry shot back, before adding a subdued, thoroughly reluctant, "sir."
"Very well." Professor Ambrosius nodded. "All right. I believe you."
Harry felt the tension drain from his shoulders. "You... believe me?"
"I do." Ambrosius nodded. "Now, however, we need to discuss what happens next, Mr Potter. As I'm sure you know, this Tournament is extremely dangerous. And the magic involved is very old."
"You're... going to help me?" Harry asked, hoping he wasn't about to have another door slammed in his face.
"I'll do my best," Ambrosius promised. "And if that isn't enough, I'll involve whoever can help you."
Harry swallowed before nodding. "All right."