I wish those wonderful characters were mine, but *sigh* they belong to a genius named J.K. Rowling. Again, THANK YOU, dear ma_raie, for your support and hard work in this chapter.
Sitting alone at a table near the dance floor, Alastor Moody was sipping a fuming cup of tea. He had always considered dancing a waste of time and energy, unless he was working undercover or it was the only way to collect more information on the enemy.
Moody let his mad eye wander through the crowd. This reception was indeed a real success in his point of view. There was, for once, no Death Eater suspect in sight, and Hogwarts was obviously a place too secure for any dark magic trick. Thus, he could allow himself to lower his constant vigilance for a moment.
A few young couples joined the dance floor, and Moody had the clear impression they all held their breath while passing in front of him. He simply nodded at them, secretly amused. In fact, the legendary Auror could count on fingers of one hand the few persons who were not intimidated by his scars or his apparent harshness: his old friend Dumbledore of course, then there were Lily and James Potter. Moody remembered clearly the red-haired young woman who had, somehow, seen right through him with her startling emerald eyes. He also remembered how her cleverness and strength had inspired James to become one of the best Aurors he ever had under his command.
A few steps away from him, Harry Potter was leading Ginny Weasley on the dance floor. They were dancing close, both seemed lost in their own thoughts, oblivious to Rita Skeeter’s hungry stare and her photographer’s camera flashes. Young love, Moody shook his head, certain that Harry will have to spend the next month justifying his ‘brotherly’ dance with his best friend’s little sister.
The old Auror, however, had another reason to pay attention. Indeed, he had planned to concentrate on his tasks at the Ministry of Public Security, and needed a replacement as Head of the Aurors’ Department. Obviously, Harry Potter’s name had come on top of his short list of potential candidates. So, Moody had carefully prepared his offer before presenting it to Harry yesterday. Their conversation had been short but truthful: Moody had earnestly renewed his confidence towards Harry. But he also pointed out that being an Auror was far from a simple job. It was, in Moody’s opinion, a calling, a lifetime commitment that, unfortunately, left little place to a decent family life. Harry had listened with attention before asking for more time to take his decision. Although his hesitation was understandable, Moody had clearly seen doubts in the young wizard’s eyes. That was definitely not a good sign, he had told himself then, and the same disturbing feeling just kept welling up at this very moment.
“A Knut for your thoughts, old friend,” Dumbledore just joined him at his table.
“Ah, Albus, I am very worried about my replacement at the Aurors’ Department.” Moody muttered, grazing his nose where a chunk was missing. “Look at them! Potter never left a teammate behind. And I bet my wooden leg he will not give up on this young lady either!”
“They have shared a lot; and facing Tom Riddle many times together had created strong bonds between them.” the Headmaster said with an indulgent smile.
“Love! So silly, but so powerful!” Moody sighed heavily. “Why do people have to fall in love? It does nothing but cloud your mind and keep you from thinking straight!”
“Yes, but love also does wonderful things, Alastor,” replied Dumbledore, “as far as our young friend is concerned, love had saved his life more than once.”
“I know, I know. But the boy is a natural, Albus, and it pains me to let him go! Besides, if only those damn reporters could leave him alone, instead of pinning his face on the front page every time he raised a wand.”
“I guess the Death Eaters consider it is a personal challenge and a great deal of publicity to be arrested by ‘the great Harry Potter’ then.”
“A vicious circle!” Moody confirmed gloomily. “Death Eaters, raids, front page, more Death Eaters, more arrests, more headlines. It will never end, Albus. And I guess the boy is tired with all the fussy publicity that surrounded him.” Moody waved his wand and his cup was filled again with hot strong tea.
On the dance floor, Ginny just leaned toward Harry, whispering something in his ear. But before he could reply, all the guests were cheering loudly as the bride and groom were exchanging a kiss. The first song had ended, now replaced by a more joyful tune. Ron immediately turned to his sister and carried her along the rhythm. Hermione followed his example by pulling Harry’s hand. Laughter filled the dance floor, as more dancers joined in.
“Alastor, do you think that Harry is tired of fighting the dark arts?” Dumbledore asked again, his eyes shining above his spectacles.
“I don’t think so. The boy was born to fight the dark arts!” Moody replied, his eyes rolling, staring at his old friend. “Albus, I know that look! What do you have in mind?”
“Well, as you had rightly pointed out, Harry is a natural. I happen to think he could carry on the fight in a different way.”
Moody shifted his gaze from Dumbledore to Severus Snape, who was glaring at the dance floor through his greasy hair.
“You mean…” the old Auror exclaimed, as hit by a new reckoning.
“Do I have your permission to talk to Harry, then?” Dumbledore asked again, and Moody looked torn in a fierce inner battle.
“I … Fine, you can give it a try!” Moody finally growled. “But you can understand I do not wish you luck for your task.”
“Thank you, Alastor, you have been too kind already.”
“Thanks, Harry, for everything.” Hermione kissed her best friend on the cheek.
Harry hugged her briefly, then stepped aside as Bill Weasley asked the bride for the next dance. Glancing at Ginny’s direction, Harry saw her with her brother Charlie, who was swaying so smoothly it was hard to believe he actually worked with dragons. Harry then zigzagged his way out of the dance floor, heading to the Weasleys’ table where the twins were waving at him. Lee Jordan was sitting with them, and greeted Harry with an enthusiastic handshake. Fred quickly looked around before shoving a colorful square box into Harry’s hands.
“Your special order of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans!” Fred winked at him. “Custom made, freshly owled, and did not cost you a Knut. The owner of Honeydukes said it’s a gift for the new recipient of the ‘Order of the Phoenix’.”
“Thanks, I’ll go put it on his desk right now!” Harry said, shaking the box with delight. “Hey, don’t you join the fun?” he asked, pointing at the dance floor.
“Later!” George answered, “we want to spend some time with our new Manager first.”
There was so much noise that Harry first thought he misheard. A new manager? What about Ginny? He wanted to ask but the twins had already resumed their conversation with Lee. Harry looked in Ginny’s direction again. She was still dancing with her brother, her face flushed with laughter. I will ask her later, Harry promised himself. Besides, he must tell her about Moody’s job offer and the decision he would take.
The corridor leading to Dumbledore’s office was silent and empty, just like Harry’s mind at this moment. Strange, he thought, the eagerness he should have felt about his possible promotion had never come. In fact, his heart was heavy with one certainty: once again, he was about to take a decision that will aim the spotlight at him, and hurt everyone he loved in the same process.
The stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office was frowning malevolently at Harry, showing no sign of mellowing throughout the years.
“Let’s see,” Harry searched his mind for a password, “Chocolate Frogs … Fizzing Whizzbees … Sugar Quill …”
“Canary Cream,” Dumbledore’s voice rose from behind his back.
The walls slowly split apart, revealing the hidden staircase to the Headmaster’s office. Canary Cream! Fred and George would be staggered with pride if they heard about this, Harry whirled around. Professor Dumbledore was standing behind him, looking very pleased with his password.
“Nice to see you, Harry,” he said, “I reckon you still have some trouble with my loyal gargoyle?”
“Your gargoyle is not very keen to help, sir.” Harry admitted, following Dumbledore up the staircase.
The study was still the same as Harry remembered. Some movement stirred in the former Headmasters’ pictures, some of them nodded at him from their frame. Somehow, those large walls stuffed with books had always provided Harry with a warm feeling of peace. A flash of red feathers zoomed on him, and Harry felt he just came home after a long trip.
“How are you, Fawkes?” he said softly, and the phoenix nibbled his finger in welcome.
“No, Fawkes, this is for Professor Dumbledore!” Harry moved the box away from the eager beak that started pulling on the fancy bow.
“Professor, I can’t think of any book, and I reckon summer is not the right moment of the year to offer wool socks.” Harry smiled, handling Dumbledore the box of colorful beans. “So, I brought you this, sir, hoping that you will find … the flavor you enjoy most.”
“Thank you, Harry,” a genuine smile lit Dumbledore’s features when he looked at his gift. “Ah, I would swap anytime a book for a box of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans!”
“It is extraordinary, sir,” Harry was truly amazed by the Headmaster’s joy, “how you can be such a powerful wizard, and still keep your heart as young as a child’s.”
“That, Harry, is the best kept secret of the universe. The greatest magic of all is to be able to see the world through the eyes of a child, and to be amazed by the simplest things. Remember that, whether you decide to be an ordinary man, or … Head of the Aurors’ Department.”
Harry smiled sadly. He knew Dumbledore and Moody were best friends and shared much information. But how could he, Harry, tell his old teacher about his doubts without showing any sign of weakness? Besides, Dumbledore knew him better than himself. And Harry desperately needed some wise advices to sort out his priorities at this point.
“I can’t thank Mr. Moody enough.” Harry said prudently. “This is an incredible opportunity for my career, and a great mark of confidence from my commander.”
“It is. But why this sadness, Harry?”
“Sir, I wonder if there is a prophecy saying that whatever I do, I will hurt someone I care about? If I refuse this promotion, I will disappoint a commander I truly respect. And if I accept it, my life will be constantly under the public’s scope. And I reckon I have no right to expose Gi… I mean people I deeply cared about to this madness.”
“I see. And have you asked those ‘people you deeply cared about’ what they think?”
Harry shook his head. Now he truly understood what Ron and Hermione had gone through. Ron had been clever enough to listen to his own heart, and had lived his choices in the most remarkable way possible.
“I guess you haven’t,” Dumbledore continued, “and you were very brave to take the pressure all upon yourself. But those persons are much wiser than you give them credit for, Harry. If they cared about you as you do about them, I believe they will choose to support your decision.”
“It is my duty to protect them,” Harry answered hotly, “even if I have to keep them away from me. Besides, she had already done a lot for me.” He continued, lowering his gaze to the pile of books besides Dumbledore’s desk. “If she is hurt again, it will be entirely my fault. I just cannot let that happen. I can not force her to choose a crazy life because of her love for me!”
Harry had barely realized he had shifted from “them” to “her”, but Dumbledore had not missed a word.
“There is no way out,” Harry concluded gloomily. “All I can do is to move forward no matter what!”
“Do you remember, Harry, what I have told you once, when you were twelve? I said that it is our choices that really show who we are, far more than our abilities. You were disturbed then by the thought you may belong in Slytherin rather than Gryffindor; just like the way you are sad now, because you can’t see clearly the path you are following.”
“There is no doubt in my mind that fighting the Dark Arts is the right thing to do.” Harry felt a sudden rush of energy.
“So, the issue is not the purpose of your work, but the conditions in which you are performing it, am I right?”
Harry slowly nodded.
“Harry, instead of being the top Auror whose action daily made the front page, have you ever considered carrying on the fight against dark arts by teaching young wizards in a recluse school like Hogwarts?”
“Taking on Snape’s dream job as … as …”
“As Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, yes!” Dumbledore nodded patiently. “Professor Snape had decided he preferred teaching Potions. Apparently, he took it hard when the first years developed a passion for werewolves rather than fearing them.”
Harry could not hold a smirk picturing Snape’s disgruntled face. First years should be taught simple techniques to block unfriendly spells. Perhaps, they would love to learn the Reductor Curse; kids always loved blowing things when they… Wait a minute, I am NOT planning lessons, am I? Harry gave himself a mental kick, cautiously avoiding Dumbledore’s eyes.
“Teaching youth is a rare skill and privilege that is not granted to everyone,” the Headmaster continued. “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a life time. You can spend the rest of your own life defending people against the Death Eaters, Harry. But if you can teach the young ones how to defend themselves, you just give them the power they need to stand strong and proud for their life time.”
Harry’s ears were buzzing and he was sure Dumbledore could hear his frantic heartbeat from across his desk. Like a dream, he saw himself walking through a group of young wizards sitting in pairs, practicing various spells, their wands pointing in all directions. Harry remembered vividly the joy he had felt when members of the D.A. had mastered the Blocking Spell, or produced a decent Patronus. Indeed, it was the best time of his gloomy fifth year. He was happy then, when … NO, Harry rectified silently, he was happy then BECAUSE he had helped his friends improve their magic skills to defend themselves against Voldemort’s increasing menace.
“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think I have a choice.” Harry finally said, voicing his last doubts. “My father died facing Voldemort. My mother sacrificed her life to preserve mine. My godfather and the teacher I cared about the most both fought to their last breath. I must carry on their fight, sir, and to live up to their expectations.”
“Harry, such thoughts are honorable. However, I must correct you on one point: indeed, your parents and their friends did sacrifice their lives. But their ultimate purpose was to give you the chance to live, and to make choices on your own without the Dark Order shadowing your future. They made you ‘the-Boy-who-Lived’. So, live your life fully, happily. And allow yourself to take decisions that will make it even more meaningful.”
Harry left the desk to stare out the window, his heart heavy with contradictory thoughts. Down by the lake, he spotted Ginny standing under a giant oak. The lake was shimmering under the summer sun, and a light breeze rustled through the leaves, letting rays of light dance on her hair. She was smiling, probably talking to a friend, and Harry just felt his heart squeeze with tenderness.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dumbledore’s voice whispered as the Headmaster came at his side.
Harry just nodded, before realizing that the old wizard talked about the warm afternoon and the shining lake. Of course, the sight of Hogwarts grounds was beautiful. And Ginny was beautiful. Harry loved the way her eyes smile whenever they met his. And beautiful she was, just by holding his hand, talking softly to him, filling this empty space he sometimes felt deep inside.
“I must give it to Professor Flitwick,” Dumbledore added almost casually, “he always had a talent in choosing his successor, and he just proved it again. This is the second time he trusts a former Head Girl to teach Charms.”
“Sir, you mean …” Harry asked, feeling his blood rush through his veins.
“Miss Weasley had been offered the Charm teacher position at Hogwarts, Harry.” Dumbledore’s eyes never left Harry’s puzzled face. “She had finally agreed to take on this new challenge after much heart-searching, I believe. For my part, I am delighted Hogwarts will count on a valuable teacher after Professor Flitwick’s much deserved retirement.”
“And the first ‘former Head Girl’ Professor Flitwick had chosen was …” Harry asked, but his heart was beating fast, for he had somehow anticipated the upcoming answer.
“Your mother, Harry.” Dumbledore answered. “Lily Potter had been a very gifted teacher. Because of Voldemort, she had to give up teaching and go into hiding with your father and her newborn son. For her security, no record of her teaching days at Hogwarts had been kept. And judging by the way you handled the ‘Dumbledore’s Army’, Harry, I’d say you inherited more from your mother than just the eyes.”
Harry was staring out the window again, but he was blind to all the activities outside. All those years, he had only pictured his parents as fearless Aurors, as proud members of the former Order of the Phoenix. Giving it some thoughts, the Prophecy about him and Voldemort had somehow biased his thinking. There were other solutions than “kill, or be killed”. There were ways to make the world a little better. And there was love whenever one acknowledged it.
The Mirror of Erised was nowhere in sight. However, Harry could swear he saw his parents smiling, waving at him. He realized that his mother’s eyes, his eyes, were blurred with tears. His father nodded proudly at him, and when James put an encouraging hand on his shoulder, the weight that Harry had been holding in his heart for a long while was instantly lifted. Yes, Harry could make his own choice. He would not regret the raids, or the arrests. Meanwhile, he will carry on his fight against the dark arts by doing what he had immensely enjoyed in the past: teaching young wizards to trust their good heart, and to improve their skills.
Harry brought his hand to his shoulder and encountered not James’s but Dumbledore’s hand. He slowly turned to face the Headmaster.
“I will do it, sir,” he answered resolutely, “I will teach Defense against the Dark Arts as long as the ‘DADA jinx’ does not get the upper hand over me.”
“Ah, that,” Dumbledore smiled mischievously, “I know a talented Charms teacher who will gladly help you with the counter-jinx. I am proud of you, Harry and I can’t feel any happier about your choice.” Then, he added more seriously, “welcome back to Hogwarts, Professor Potter!”
They shook hands then the Headmaster wrapped his arms around Harry in a warm embrace. The orphan baby he had left on his aunt’s doorstep had grown into an admirable man, and overcome many challenges along the way. Harry had loved, and was loved unconditionally in return. And Dumbledore considered this as one of his greatest achievements.
“Thank you, Headmaster. Now I must answer to Mad-Eye’s offer…” Harry said.
“Well, here I am. What is your answer to my offer?”
Harry turned around to see Mad-Eye standing at the door. How much had Moody heard about their conversation? Harry glanced at Dumbledore for help, but he Headmaster had returned to sit at his desk, and was now playing distractedly with his new box of sweets.
“Mr. Moody, sir, I…” Harry started, feeling awkward in the presence of both his old and new bosses.
“I have heard enough, Potter!” Moody immediately groaned, waving his hand. “I know it’s only a question of time before you return to your old school.”
“I want your resignation letter on my desk on Monday!” Moody continued harshly, although his scared face showed no sign of anger. “I will accept it with a few conditions. ONE, you will not forget what a gifted Auror you have been. TWO, you promise to do your best to teach the next generations of wizards to fight the dark arts. THREE, you will tell Miss Weasley that you will no longer hide yourself behind this ‘brother-sister’ non-sense. Life is too short, Potter, to keep people who loved you at arm’s length.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry answered, astonished by the old Auror’s words, “may I just say…that it had been an honor to serve under your command, sir?”
Moody nodded, uneasy at the compliment.
“Now, go fulfill condition number three!” Moody pushed Harry toward the door, “remember, in this kind of situation, strike first and ask questions later!”
Moody closed the door behind Harry then turned to Dumbledore. His magic eye was actually rolling as the two old wizards stared at each other.
“Alastor, you are the most thoughtful, generous Minister I’d ever known!” Dumbledore said finally.
“There are times you pushed the limits of our friendship too far, Albus,” replied Moody, whose scared face was twisting in what looked like a smirk, or a frown. “You just lost me one of the most gifted Aurors I’d ever had under my command.”
“And the other gifted ones you mentioned were Potter’s father and my own great-great-grandson!” a cool voice rudely cut in.
Both Dumbledore and Moody turned to the picture of Phineas Nigellus and saw him standing with his nose high and his shoulder squared in defiance. The old Headmaster of Hogwarts could not help adding his words in the conversation.
“All those years, Dumbledore had sent you many valuable Aurors. Don’t you think it is high time to pay him back with a worthy teacher?”
“Thank you for your kind words, Phineas!” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled above his spectacles.
“You are more than welcome, Albus,” Phineas insisted, now leaning on the frame of this picture. “About this young Miss Weasley… I understand she comes from a pure-blood family?”
“Pure-blood of not, I’d say this Weasley girl is Potter’s missing half.” Moody observed. “And that is what really matters!”
“Here, here, old friend!” Dumbledore nodded approvingly, “and now, I deserve a treat!”
The Headmaster chose a purple bean in his box then warily put it in his mouth.
“Toffee!” he exclaimed joyfully, before closing his eyes, chewing the bean with an ecstatic grin on his lips.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and, please, don’t forget to let me know what you think, OK? :) :)
On Mugglenet FF, you can find many great stories, written by incredibly talented authors. In this chapter, there was a ‘wink’ to two of those stories:
1) The ‘werewolves’ referred to “The Truth about Remus”, by ma_raie (cat: Romance/Other pairings), a wonderful romance “Marauder style” where adventure and friendship are always present.
2) The ‘brother-sister’ thing referred to “Harry Potter and the Blood Traitor”, by Huskers (cat: Romance/Various pairings), a captivating story filled with magic, voices and mysteries.
Please, check them out!