Chapter Text
It had been years since Harry saw Hogwarts. He’d still gotten letters from professors, kept them close when news spread of a professor's passing--or of new staff taking their place. When McGonagall became the headmaster during his eighth year, it was as if Hogwarts itself was taking a breath of air. But Harry never felt like he could appreciate it. The work that the professors did to make sure every student felt safe, cared for, and like they weren’t being left behind in the grief of the lost years, of lost friends who couldn’t become ghosts. They tried so desperately, and Harry never felt like it reached him.
During his eighth year, Hogwarts was still getting repaired. Classes were moved around due to construction. A quick fix was seeing vines and roots replace brick and paths. It was like Hogwarts had returned to the earth, its castle walls destroyed and now taken back by the dark forest that surrounded it.
His eighth year was a blur, for the most part. And everyone understood why because they were there to witness it. When it ended, and Harry left he didn’t look back--he didn’t wish to stay. He kept walking toward what lay in front of him, no matter what form it took.
But he was back now. Willingly and wanting to come back.
As he walked across the bridge to the castle, most of the destruction from the war was a memory--large roots took form and bent to fill in the missing spaces. Flowers sprung up in the cracks of cobblestone, lightly dancing in the summer wind. He came on the train, but all of his stuff was already sent to the room he’d be staying in for the year.
McGonagall had sent him a letter, the first in years.
Dear Mister Potter,
It has come to my attention that professor Slughorn is retiring, and through his years here at Hogwarts he has stated that it would be a good fit for you to take his place. I have enclosed with this letter the materials needed to send back a reply--along with your credentials. Of course, you are able to decline the offer.
If you decide to take the post, you will be returning to Hogwarts for the summer--working alongside the other candidates chosen as new professors, and the retiring professors to create an updated curriculum. We have selected, and sent out other owls to past alumni with the same message as you.
It would be a pleasure to have you on staff.
And on a more personal note, Mr. Potter, it would be a pleasure to see you again. I have not seen much of you in the news, as I have with Mrs. Granger, but I am sure you are well.
Thank you for your time,
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, of Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry.
After the war…
After the trial, Harry was tired of being the center of attention. He’d gotten a small place in Godric’s Hollow, away from the hustle and bustle of things. Hermione and Ron lived in London, with Hermione steadily climbing rank in the Ministry--brilliant as she always was. Ron was in the process of gaining ownership of Fred and George's joke, shop following George’s dedication to his family.
It was nice to know that the world could continue, and thrive without Harry as an integral part of it.
“Ah, Mr. Potter, you’re late.” McGonagall's voice broke Harry out of his thoughts as he got to the front steps of the school. She looked older, her hair sporting a few more gray streaks then last he saw her, but she looked more lively. “Everyone is already here--although, I can’t seem to penalize you since I never stated a time to get here.”
“Good to see you too, Professor.” Harry smiled, a chuckle and curt nod following his words. It warmed his heart seeing her try desperately to hide her smile. She always felt like a mother to him, stern and insightful, loving and caring for every student.
Even in his tardiness, she still waited for him. It was only around noon when he walked up the steps and followed her inside. The doors stayed open, bringing with them a nice breeze that got caught in walls and spread through to the old castle. The portraits were all vacant, all the paintings probably on summer break as well. Even the ghosts that haunted the school seemed to be on holiday.
McGonagall led him into the Great Hall. The ceiling was showcasing the sky outside, bright and warm. The room looked so much smaller now, yet also so much bigger due to its vacancy. The tables weren’t decorated with house colors, the flags that flew weren’t in support of anyone. It was a small existence, quiet and comforting.
“Now that everyone is here, it would be best to start introductions properly.” McGonagall stated as she walked toward the podium. Harry looked toward one of the tables, seeing two familiar faces. He smiled at Neville, taking a seat across from him.
“Oh, hello Harry…” Luna said in her sleepy tone sitting next to Neville, her eyes already drifting away to stare at something else of interest. “We just got here an hour ago. I think you missed the food, but it was lovely. I put some fruit in my bag if you want some later.”
“Good to see you, Luna. And, thanks. I-I think I’ll be fine.” Harry never took offense when he saw Luna’s attention drift. It was how she spoke with people, unable to meet their eyes yet saying lovely things regardless.
“You got roped in as well, eh Harry?” Neville muttered with a tiny smile. He hadn’t changed from when Harry saw him last. It wasn’t until eighth year that he realized how funny Nevillie was, how fearless he was. It took the war to realize that.
Harry also noticed the small way Neville kept a hand on the table, and how Luna rocked back and forth in her seat--lightly swaying against Neville’s shoulder. Each time they made contact, Neville seemed surprised and flustered.
“Now that everyone is settled…” McGonagall started, her gaze sweeping across the room at the three of them. “Allow me to explain in better detail. You four have been chosen as new professors, as a way for Hogwarts to steadily integrate a better learning facility more current with the times than what it has been.”
Four?
“You’ll be working together with the current staff to come up with a curriculum, based on past terms and personal experience.” McGonagall continued, and with a motion of her hand gestured to the professors present.
Hagrid stood up first, gitty and radiating happiness and warmth through his thick beard and hair. In his excitement, he caused his chair to fall over. The sound it made vibrated through the room, causing everyone to jump.
“I’ll be teaching little Luna here!” Hagrid said, waving at her. She raised both hands and waved back. “Should be simple. Plus I know I got a lot to learn about those… crypto beasts you talk about.”
That made Luna brighten up. “Oh that will be lovely. I can teach you all about nargles, and nifflers, and bowtruckles, and--”
“Yes. thank you, Luna dear.” McGonagall cut her off and gave a look towards Hagrid, causing him to quietly pick up his chair and sit back down. “I guess formalities are out of the way, then.”
“To be fair, professor--We all know each other, and what we’ll be teaching.” Neville spoke up. “It’s really just goin’ over the whole process, right?”
“I have a question though,” Harry put in. Watching as everyone looked at him. “You said four candidates. There’s only three of us.” He motioned to Luna, Neville and himself for emphasis.
He also looked at the staff table. All the professors he grew up with and who stayed were still there. But the seat at the end was empty. It was right in between where Madam Hooch and Professor Sprout sat.
McGonagall caught Harry's wandering eye. “Professor Brindlemore decided to stop teaching, she left all her materials and lesson plans for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in her office.” She then looked at Harry directly. Her face contorted into an aching sadness for a moment before returning to her stoic demeanor. “Mister Draco Malfoy will be taking her position. He was told about it beforehand, and came a few days ago…”
Her voice trailed off as she looked at the door. Harry turned and followed her gaze to the end of the table. His heart dropped, and his breath caught in his throat. It was like he forgot how to breathe when he saw Draco Malfoy, sitting at the very end of the table. Even in the summer heat, he still wore a long sleeved shirt, its sleeves cuffed around his wrists, and a pair of black jeans.
When did he enter the room? Why was he sitting so far away from everyone? Why did he look so exhausted, like the years were cruel to him?
“I’ll let you all converse with your assigned professor.” McGonagall stepped away from the podium. “In two hours, though, I expect you four to come to my office--I want to speak with you more privately.”
Luna got up first, skipping over to Hagrid and their conversation picking back up where they left off--Luna listing off beasts that no one had heard of. Neville followed, going to Professor Sprout--and immediately getting pinched on the cheek as the stout herbology professor beamed at him.
“Ohhh, Mr. Longbottom it feels like it was just yesterday you fainted due to a mandrakes cry! Maybe that should be our first thing to cover…” She laughed, Neville laughed with her, but more quietly and with a hint of hesitation and fear.
Professor Slughorn got up, hobbling over to Harry. He’d aged since the last time Harry saw him, he now had a cane to assist with walking, his hairline was a bit more thin and he had a sadness in his eyes.
“Harry, good to see you again my boy.” Even with that sadness, he still tried to smile as best as he could. “I hope you still remember our lessons outside of all those silly things you and your friends got up to in sixth year.”
As he was speaking, Harry glanced at the spot where Draco was sitting. Now he just saw Dracos’ back as he walked out of the main dining hall, shoulders slumped.
“Y-yeah…” Harry looked back at Slughorn, his mind already feeling the tinge to go into his trunk and get the Map. “I’m gonna be honest, all the stuff I learned from your class was from Snape's old book. And even outside of that, when we did meet--I was on liquid luck.”
Slughorn nodded, as if always knowing. He shrugged, weighing what to say. “Yes well… we're all young at some point. Better to feel invincible at that age.”
Slughorn had brought Harry to the potions room. For once, there was nothing bubbling in the cauldrons, all the materials were tucked away in cubbies. Slughorn took a seat at one of the tables, visibly exhausted from the trek.
“Apologies, Mr. Potter, do tell me what you’ve been up to. Last I recall was you were an Auror. Makes sense with your marks from school. Even all that trouble you got into counts for that as well.”
Harry stood to the side, a shiver ran through him as he thought of the best way to break the news to the old professor. Taking this position meant he had to leave his old job position, which was easy since he didn’t have one.
“I actually quit being one. I’m not that big on making appearances anymore.” He said, watching as Slughorn reacted the same way as before. The professor took a deep breath, his face melting into a familiar, disappointing frown. The old potions professor was one of the first people to look at Harry like that. It was either disgust or awe, yet Slughorn made room for another, newer and more painful facial expression. Even when Harry was a student, as the years went by people around him looked at him in those three ways.
And as an adult, Harry saw that disappointing look every time he worked as an Auror. Regardless of what department he worked, who he worked with, it didn’t matter. People gave that look to Harry when he didn’t meet their high expectations, ones he could never see.
He took a deep breath, letting the disappointment run off his shoulders. “So where should we begin? What have you been teaching students?” Harry started the conversation because that’s all he felt he could do at the moment.
Slughorn nodded and began to explain his regular curriculum, pointing to a cuddy with his cane for Harry to open. “I’ve kept the same lessons for each year--Starting with first years, usually best to keep potion marketing to a total of 5 ingredients, anything more and kids start crying from getting it wrong.”
Harry took out the books, a large stack of reports bound together and marked by professors.
Slughorn, 2004
Slughorn, 2003
Slughorn, 2002…
Most of the reports were from Slughorn. Detailing the same curriculum, with added notes for each year and a list of student names that could improve or wanting to speak to help them understand. Harry kept flipping through the pages, mindlessly taking it all in until his heart grew heavy and he became alert as sadness boiled over.
Snape, 1996
“When I was a first year, Snape yelled at me for taking notes during his introduction to class. Took points off as well…” Harry muttered as flashes of that day cycled through his mind, interconnected with Snape's teachings and abuse, ending where Snape died. He returned to Slughorn's notes, not wanting to get bitten by more memories.
“Ah, yes, Severus and I had very different teaching methods. He… He’d be teaching Advanced Potions to a group of second years.” Slughorn huffed. “Polyjuice potion shouldn’t be taught so early, it gives kids too many ideas.”
Harry stayed quiet for that. Not wanting to tell the story of his second year with Crabbe and Goyle and talking with Draco. The young Slytherin didn’t even know it was Ron or Harry--even though they did the potion wrong. Actual Polyjuice allowed the drinker to adapt the voice of the person they were transforming into, every polyjuice Harry made didn’t do that.
But even for that first polyjuice, even though it didn’t last long, Harry was oddly happy for getting a glimpse at Draco. Still a git, but not as bad as he let on.
When Harry got to McGonagall's office, Luna and Neville were already there.
“How’d your lesson go?” Neville asked once Harry stepped into the room. Harry didn’t really learn a lesson, just talked with Slughorn for the most part. Neville on the other hand--His button up was covered in dirt, the knees of his jeans also had sizeable clumps on them.
“Fine, we didn’t practice anything. Just talked.” Harry looked over at Luna. she was running a hand over the spines of books on the shelf. Stepping carefully over the dividing lines of wood flooring as if it was bad luck. “What happened to you, Neville?”
“Professor Sprout wanted it to be hands on.” Neville laughed. “I regret packing like I did, I should've packed clothes that wouldn’t be a hassle to clean.”
“I like that you packed sweaters. Very Neville.” Luna turned to the two of them. “Hagrid told me that we might be getting another hippogriff. Though, I don’t know if they get along with Thestrals. Hagrid can see them though.”
“Oh, that must make things easier for y--”
Harry was cut off by the door opening, and Professor McGonagall walking in. Following behind her, oddly, was Draco, and even stranger, following behind Draco was Harry’s trunk.
“Lovely, you’re all here--I hope things went well.” McGonagall went to her desk, but didn’t sit down. She stood at the chair, looking over the group. “Mr. Longbottom, you look like you fell in the mud.”
“I am aware, ma’am.” Neville and her exchanged a curt nod. Perfectly sinking back to how they treated each other when he was a student.
Harry glanced at his trunk. His mind was already racing as to why it was here. Draco stood away from everyone, leaning against a wall of books. He looked as if he’d get sucked into the pages at any moment.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Potter. You’re not getting kicked out. Even you can’t get expelled that quickly.” McGonagall reassured as Harry focused his attention back to her. “I wanted you all here so I can give you some rules to follow.”
“But that still doesn’t answer why--” Harry couldn’t even get his statement out as McGonagall shushed him.
“Every morning after breakfast you are to report to your assigned classroom. You will stay there, organizing with the professor, relearning anything you might have forgotten, going over what you might change in the coming term. After lunch, you are free to go about your days. But you must not leave the school grounds. You’re only permitted access to Hogsmeade on weekends.” McGonagall took out her wand, and with a flick of it, Harry’s trunk opened with a bounce. His things neatly tucked away and folded for everyone to see.
“You are not students anymore, but that doesn’t give you the right to lolly-gag about.” With another flick of her wand, a scroll slid out from her desk and unraveled as it landed in her hands. She cleared her throat, locking eyes with Harry. “Mr. Potter, I am going to ask that you hand over any, and all magical artifacts you’ve acquired over your time here. Because, you of all people need to follow the rules.”
Harry didn’t even try to protest. Everyone looked at him to move. He nodded at her words.
It was astonishing really, just how much trouble he got into over his years and only got detention for it.
“If you’re just collecting Harry’s things, are we free to go?” Neville asked, he had an impatient tap in his foot--probably wanting to change and clean the dirt from himself.
“No. I want you all to stay, so Mr. Potter doesn’t try anything to keep any of his belongings.”
“Do I get a say in this?” Harry looked at the headmistress with every ounce of skepticism he could muster.
“ No. ” McGonagall answered quickly. Her stern tone back in full force. She took a breath and began to read. “Now, the Cloak of Invisibility.”
With a sigh, Harry went over his truck as his friends stood to the side and watched. He rummaged through things until the oversized, shimmering cloak was in his hands, and he placed it on the desk. “Is there a time frame when I can get this back?”
“The Marauders Map.” McGonagall didn’t answer him. Harry stepped to the side of the trunk, opening a side pocket to pull out the piece of parchment. He hadn’t used it for years, since he never needed to go back to Hogwarts. The same for the Invisibility Cloak, he liked being invisible now but not enough to sneak around under the shimmering cloak.
He placed the map on the desk as McGonagall read the next item. If she was taking it all, he had an idea of what was next.
“The resurrection stone.”
Harry nodded, not moving to his trunk. He instead reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small diamond shaped black stone. It had a habit of appearing near him since he died. Like it followed him as death followed everyone. It had been through the wash a couple of times.
“Harry…” Luna piped up. “You must be incredibly devious if you kept that. Why have you kept all this stuff?”
“I mainly forget I have it, honestly. That’s my trick.” Harry placed the stone on the desk, then placed a nearby empty glass over it followed by a book. “It likes to follow me.” He looked up at McGonagall, and even in his sincerity, she didn’t look like she believed him.
“Lastly, the Elder Wand.”
The room got cold. Harry rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Acutely aware of McGonagall's eyes. He let out an awkward laugh. “I, uh… Don’t have it.” He watched as the headmistress arched an eyebrow. “I tossed it. After the war.” Harry shrugged.
McGonagall spoke slowly, quietly, her anger rising the more she tried to hide it. “You… threw away… the most powerful in existence?”
Harry nodded. Not even his friends would look at him.
“Why… How?”
Harry stifled a laugh, shrugging once more. “Well, I don’t want that much power, and Voldemort had destroyed it beyond repair because it was never his; so, after the war, I broke it into pieces and threw it into the moat under Hogwarts,” he explained. It sounded less life-changing as it felt when he did it. “It should still be there, but I’m pretty sure it’s just kindling at this point.”
There was a long silence between Harry and McGonagall. She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as Harry stood there, bouncing on his heels. Years had passed since he was a student, and now as an adult he felt like a child again. Anxiously waiting for McGonagall to give him detention.
“My word Harry,” Luna broke the silence. “I didn’t think you were that daft. No wonder wrackspurts and nargles love you so much.”
“Longbottom, Lovegood--you two are dismissed.” McGonagall waved her hand, motioning to the door. Harry’s trunk closed firmly and clamored up on invisible legs like a cat and followed the two of them.
“Oh, hello sir. Do you know where you’re going?” Luna began to have a conversation with the trunk as the door closed behind them. Their voices disappeared, and as much as Harry wanted to follow he knew that he had to stay.
“As you saw, the Defense against the Dark Arts professor was absent from lunch. Professor Brindlewood left all her notes and materials, but refused outright to help Mr. Malfoy.” McGonagall explained slowly, choosing her words carefully. “Because of his past.”
Harry knew that must have been the reason, yet hearing it still felt like a black hole had appeared and was swallowing him. It was a heavy guilt that consumed him, like part of Draco becoming a Death Eater was Harry’s fault. He didn’t feel Draco should be the one punished, it didn’t make sense to hate Draco Malfoy--after all this time.
“I…I need you to teach me things I’ve missed, Potter.” The blackhole disappeared when Harry turned to Draco.
“Why me?” Harry’s heart felt light as he asked the question. Hearing draco’s voice after so long felt real, like Harry was in a daze until now. Draco shuffled on his feet, crossing his arms as his cheeks grew crimson.
He didn’t look at Harry when he spoke up again. “I don’t know Longbottom or Lovegood enough. I’d prefer it to be you. ” Draco’s stormy gray eyes finally settled on Harry. “Because you know more than me.” Draco didn’t sound defeated as he finished.
If they were younger, he’d have added a remark to belittle Harry or make fun of him in one snide motion. But now, here, he didn’t.
“If that’s settled, you two may leave. Since you no longer have any duties with the professors for the day, maybe you two can go over what has to be done.” McGonagall voiced. She took stock of Harry’s things, allowing them to float and place on one of the shelves--then a shine covered them. She must’ve put a charm on them, furthering any attempt Harry might make to get them back.
The two walked in silence until they entered the courtyard between the dorms and empty halls. The summer sun was pleasant, its rays seeping through the trees. “So, how’ve you been since,” Harry stopped, stepping into the courtyard. “Everything.”
Draco followed, standing against the tree as Harry took a seat on the benches. Half of it was stone, its age evident in the cracks it had, held together by entwined ivy and tree roots. The sunlight danced over Draco’s face and body.
“Well, you know how the trials went.” Draco voiced. “Once that was over, then eighth year, and once that happened…I’ve been moving around a lot. My mother and I finally got a place, not of our own, but we’re with a family we trust. Then I got the letter to come here.”
Draco put his hands in his pockets. He looked paler than usual, even though it’s been a few years since they saw each other.
The most Harry saw Draco was at trial, he was in a black suit back then, eyes looking distant as he waited for the verdict. When Harry testified, telling the court about how integral Draco was to winning the battle, Draco still looked as if death was in his near future.
And during eighth year, the two only crossed paths when either was leaving a class, spotting each other across the hall and sea of students, but never meeting.
When eighth year happened, with no threat on Harry or the school it felt like a proper school. Harry found himself enjoying his classes, and even more enjoying studying. He had spent so much time in the library, loving the quiet it brought. Sometimes Hermione would join him. Sometimes he’d spot Draco hiding amongst the books.
The whole year felt as if Houses melted together, intermingling was so common. Yet Draco always seemed alone.
“I’m okay with years one through five. Just need some refreshing.” Draco dragged Harry from his thoughts. “After how good professor Lupin and Moody were, it’s laughable to go back and read Lockhart and Quirrels notes.”
Harry smiled at that. He couldn’t recall much of the first and second year Defense Against the Dark Arts. They were so tied to Voldemort, all he recalled was the parasitic growth on Quirrel and the searing pain of the basilisk.
“Why not six and seven?” Harry finally blinked away the memories, focusing more on the dapples of sun that shimmered through the leaves as they danced against Draco.
“I wasn’t here for seventh year, remember?” Draco smirked, arching an eyebrow.
“How can I recall something I also wasn’t here for.” Harry chuckled, and felt his heart jump at Draco’s small laugh.
Breathless, as light as a sigh.
“You and I are the reason eighth year happened.” Draco went to undo the cuffs of his shirt, feeling the heat of the sun on him. He didn’t roll up his sleeves, just returned to crossing his arms over his chest.
“What about sixth year? That was with Snape.” Harry understood how dumb it was to say that only after the words left his mouth.
“You know that answer…”
I do. Harry thought, knowing that Draco would say that; he knew that if Draco posed the same question, Harry would give that same answer. You were so scared that year. I never saw you. So I tried to find you.
“Every defense spell from sixth and seventh, I think that’s do-able.” Harry said. “It’s mainly counter curses, counter spells, barrier magic and…”
“Expecto Patronum.” Draco said the one spell Harry was avoiding. He rolled his shoulders, the summer sun feeling rather cold suddenly as he looked away from Harry. “Seventh year is when students are supposed to learn it. You taught your little army in fifth, because you learned it in third.” He looked almost embarrassed to know that.
“I never learned it. And most advanced defense spells on the fact that I was…”
He didn’t have to say it. It would always feel like a stab into Harry’s side. A sharp, cold blade running through Harry everytime he heard the rumors, every time people brought it up. And each time, he had to take that same blade out.
“Okay, well…” Harry started. “We’re going to change that. Make you academically ready for it all.” Harry then stood up, feeling the knife slip out as he made his way to Draco. He stuck out his hand, casually smiling and waiting for Draco to take it.
“Pleasure to be working with you.”
Draco raised an eyebrow, his whole face looked perplexed at the gesture. His stormy eyes looked at Harry, at his hand, but remained stuff, his arms coiled around him.
“I have a list of spells in my quarters, I wrote them by year. You can come by the Slytherin wing later to get it--That’s where I am…” Draco said, pushing himself from the tree and beginning to walk out of the courtyard.
“How much later?” Harry turned to watch him go. His sleeves remained unbuttoned, flapping in the breeze. Harry could make out the black coiled snake against his forearm.
“I don’t know, Potter!” Draco shouted back as he entered the hall. “After dinner, I ‘spose.”
Once more Harry’s heart felt light in his chest. An oddity because his time as an Auror had others call him only by his last name. None of them had the same effect as Draco.
None of them were Draco’s ‘Potter’ .
Dinner was more empty than lunch. None of the professors were there, just McGonagall showed up. Harry sat at one table with Neville and Luna, the sound of silverware clanking together echoed in the empty hall.
“That’s what she kept you for?” Neville whispered, usually the dining hall was roaring with voices. Now speaking sounded forbidden with how it bounced on the walls.
Harry was picking at his dinner, delicious as it was. Ham and mashed potatoes drenched in gravy with steamed veggies and stuffing. It melted in his mouth when he did eat it.
“Yeah, Brindlewood refused, and since I have experience teaching Defense--I gotta teach him.” Harry reiterated once more. He didn’t mind teaching, he actually missed it. “It’s just a bit odd. I don’t think he likes me.”
Neville sat back. He’d changed since the last time Harry saw him. A fresh knitted sweater of sheeps grazing a meadow, no mud anywhere. “I actually think you’re the most suited of any of us to be a teacher--especially Draco’s teacher.”
Luna looked up from her pudding, having finished dinner. Her eyes went to both boys, before she started to get up. “Well, I'm going to go say hello to Helena and maybe Myrtle. Then probably sleep.” She began to walk away from the table before stopping. “If either of you see me wandering later at night, say hello.”
And then she was gone.