“The Dark Arts are a powerful brand of magic that we should never fear,” Harry began confidently during his first class. “There are always those who will try to manipulate something good into something evil, but that is all it is: a counterfeit of something genuine and good.”
Harry could hear scribbling of quills all over the room and it made him smile. He remembered trying to take important notes when Remus had been his teacher and now, here he was, in front of the same classroom with a brand new crop of eager students, and they were taking notes of everything HE was saying.
A small hand shot up from the left of the room. “You mean, like what happened when you were a student?”
Harry paused before answering, not because he was uncertain, but because he had been bracing himself for this since he first accepted his position as Dark Arts professor. He had made up his mind that he would never keep his students in the dark about the truth of dark magic, however, there were certainly some things that were better left to ignorance, certain spells and dark tricks that no one should ever have to experience. He knew that there would be a thousand questions to answer, and lots of curiosities about how he spent his time and the parts he played in the final battles against evil. He was trepidatious, but excited all at the same time.
“Yes, Hannah, like when I was a student.” Eyes began to go wild in the room and there wasn’t a single ear closed. “Although, don’t kid yourself, there will always be dark wizards. Unfortunately there is something magnetic about power and darkness that some witches and wizards just can’t get away from.”
“Does that mean there are more…um…You-Know-Whos out there?” Another quiet voice chimed in and Harry surveyed the intense and frightened faces before him.
“It very well could be,” Harry said calmly and whispers exploded amongst the students, “BUT, Voldemort was a special breed of wizard that could hardly even be called human. He was made up entirely of hate and bitterness, with an unbelievable thirst for power and ability to strike uncontrollable fear in others that we would be unlikely to see again anytime soon.”
“But didn’t his Death Eaters try to take his place after his death?” Yet another person called out.
“Yes, it’s true, they did, and they put up a good fight, which you’re starting to understand is why I had to fake my own death in order to try and finish them off. However, Voldemort, like I said, was an entirely unique breed of wizard that had the power to brainwash, manipulate and control his followers unlike any other power we’ve ever seen. Though they tried, none of his Death Eaters had powers like their master, nor the courage to continue quite like he did. They hid in dark corners and stabbed each other in the back, unwilling to take the blame for any of their actions.
Now almost every hand in the room flew into the air and frequent “oohs!” and “oh! Oh!s” resounded from their lips. Harry smiled again. “Yes, um…Marco.”
“Do you think…um…You-Know-Who…was the most powerful wizard to ever live? Why was it so hard to defeat him?”
Harry sighed at the second student stumbling to say Voldemort’s name. Surely after this long the magical community wasn’t still afraid of it.
“First of all class, like I’ve said, we shouldn’t be so afraid of dark magic because we have power over it. It takes strength and courage to conquer, but it absolutely can be done. To start, from this moment forward we will no longer refer to Voldemort as You-Know-Who or any other sort of fearful nickname. He has a proper name like any one of us, which was Tom Riddle. You will either call him such, or Voldemort, which is what he referred to himself as for most of his life. And no, I don’t think he was the most powerful wizard to ever live; he was defeated after all, wasn’t he? He was powerful because of his evil ways, but not undefeatable.”
“Since you defeated him does that make you the most powerful wizard to ever live?”
Harry chuckled. “While a flattering thought, I didn’t defeat him on my own. If it hadn’t been for the help of incredible wizards like the Weasley family, including Professor Weasley, Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Lupin, I wouldn’t have survived. It’s priceless to have good friends, students, and I suggest you remember that. Friends are the most valued treasure I will ever claim.”
“Professor Potter?” A small first year chimed with a drifty, familiar voice.
“What’s your name again, I’m sorry, I seemed to of misplaced it,” Harry said as politely as he could.
“Marianne Longbottom.”
“Ah, yes,” Harry said with a smile. He knew Luna and Neville had gotten married, but forgot that they had children. Neville had started working at Hogwarts right after school and Harry rarely ever saw him. Their daughter was only a few months younger than James and his son had mentioned her before. “What was your question?”
“My grandfather said that there are still Death Eaters that live up in Borgmott’s Mountain and they have taken on the forms of the seven-toed sneekplang, just waiting to attack again.”
Harry chuckled out loud and quickly covered it with a cough. He remembered Luna’s crazy theories and had almost forgotten about Marianne’s grandfather that fostered most of them. He was going to really love having her in his class.
“Well, that’s an interesting theory, Marianne, but I can assure you, there are no Death Eaters anymore. There could very well be groups that admire Voldemort, but no one with the courage to actually attempt anything he ever did. As far as the real thing, real Death Eaters, or even Voldemort himself since I’m sure that rumor is still flying around, they are gone. I promise.”
Hands were flying up all over the classroom and Harry found himself answering questions quickly to try and make it through each one.
“Where did you stay when you were supposed to be dead?” Another small student asked.
“Well, that changed a lot,” Harry responded. “Sometimes in old cabins and houses, and sometimes in caves along the sea or in the mountains. There were a few rather cold, scary places, I have to say…”
“You got scared?” A tall, dark haired boy interrupted.
“Yes, absolutely. There were many times that I was very scared…” Harry said, his voice softening. “You know, it’s all right to be afraid at times, we just have to understand what it is that we are afraid of and harness that to overcome. Voldemort thrived on terrifying everyone else into worshipping him. I remember being afraid, but not really of him.”
“What were you afraid of, then?” The tall boy asked again.
“Well,” Harry sighed thoughtfully, “I suppose more than anything, I was afraid that I would never get to see James or Ginny again.”
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“Ginny!” Harry screamed as he raced in a panic towards the flashing lights. It was like a fireworks display amidst the black sky and his heart dropped as he realized there were many more green flashes than red. He could hear things crashing and breaking, and jumbled shouts in all sorts of different voices, none of which he could make out.
It was confusing to follow the path to the Burrow, but Harry had done it enough times to barely even think about the turns and corners he was making. His feet were speeding faster than they’d ever run before, yet didn’t seem to be going nearly fast enough. All he could think about was getting to the Burrow and to Ginny and James as he spun out of the darkness and into the light shed by the tall, creaking house he’d come to love as a student at Hogwarts.
The final battle was seemingly over, Voldemort had just been conquered, but his followers refused to concede. No one had ever underestimated how strong they were, however, it did seem that the Order expected them to surrender with the fall of their leader. Instead, the cause of evil and the pursuit of power had enveloped their souls deeper than anticipated and there was no turning away. They were Death Eaters until the end of their lives. There was no other option.
Harry and the rest of the Order had been celebrating the few moments of joy that surrounded the last spell Harry cast against the Dark Lord when Fred slapped Harry on the back in congratulations.
“Now you can raise that son in a world without Voldemort, something no one has yet been able to do, eh? Now let’s get back to the Burrow so you can give Ginny a great, big, passionate...high five.”
“He’s gonna give her more than that,” one of the younger, newer order members shouted out. “How do you think that little tike of theirs came into being?!”
Harry barely had time to blush and tell him to shove off when there was suddenly a blasting howl and burst of light and Bellatrix LeStrange exploded by, calling towards a mass of other hidden Death Eaters.
“Ginny Weasley, eh, Potter?” She called in a dark, scratchy voice. “And a child? How could we have missed that? Thanks for the tip!”
And with a malicious grin and massive pop, multiple Death Eaters disapparated into the darkness, heading straight for the Burrow.
“Dammit!” Harry screamed, shooting a furious glare towards the ignorant wizard that had given away the location of all the Order members that had stayed behind. “To the Burrow! Now!” He yelled, apparating immediately.
The Burrow had been locked from the outside, making it impossible to apparate within 2 miles and the longest run Harry would ever take. His lungs weren’t even contracting and sweat kept dripping into his eyes as he pounded the ground towards the blasting lights and screams. Oh Merlin, just let them be all right, he thought, Please! Don’t let it be too late!
“Expelliarmus!” Harry screamed at the back of one Death Eater aiming towards the front door of the Burrow.
As the raid of new Order members emerged onto the scene, the surroundings became ever more chaotic. More Death Eaters than they remembered were storming the Burrow as those Order members who had stayed back from the battle with Voldemort were scurrying to return fire.
Harry continued shooting defense spells as he headed, tunnel-vision, into the Burrow. Death Eaters against Order members in wand to wand combat, like a war zone from a muggle movie Harry had watched, only so much worse because this was no movie, it was real. There didn’t seem to be any safe spot as Harry managed his way inside the lopsided building and he found himself shooting against his enemies without even consciously casting the spells “ they almost seemed to cast themselves.
“Ginny!” He called passionately as he threw chairs aside and ducked incoming spells. “Reterius Endium!” He called again, sending a Death Eater through the dining room table. Deciding she wasn’t on the bottom floor, Harry headed upwards.
“Ginny! Where are you?!” Harry was frantic and throwing doors open left and right. It didn’t seem like any Death Eaters had made their up way to the upper levels yet, seemingly concentrating on the massive crowd outside instead. The less he found of Ginny, the more he panicked about James, wondering where a toddler would be hiding if not with Ginny, and he was certain she was fighting somewhere. When he reached Ginny’s old room he was dismayed to find it untouched and empty and was just about to leave when he heard a familiar scream outside.
He ran towards the window just in time to see Molly Weasley running towards a pack of Death Eaters, shooting every spell she could think of in defense. Harry saw a flash of red behind her at the door and noticed Ginny’s long red locks swish out of sight.
“Ginny!” He called again as he barreled out the room and nearly flew downstairs. Halfway down the old, beaten stairway there was a deafening crash as if a hundred glass mirrors had shattered at once and Harry thought of Ginny near the window. No, no, no, he mumbled to himself, throwing his body down the stairs even faster.
It was too late. By the time he reached the front room, Arthur Weasley was already lying in a broken heap outside the Burrow, the remnants of the window he’d been thrown through hanging dismally around his body, covered in blood. Molly let out a horrifying scream and raced towards her husband when Harry heard “Avada Kedavra!” and she was blasted with a bolt of green light in the back.
Harry was stunned. Molly and Arthur Weasley were both dead. The only two people he’d ever known and loved as parents were both lying, helplessly defeated and dead before his eyes. Immediately he raised his wand to blast the guilty party when he heard his wife bellow in a voice he’d only heard her use one other time.
“You will die!” She cried from the depth of her gut and Harry’s heart filled with terror as she stormed out from the corner of the house and into the fireline.
“No!” He tried to yell towards her, but there was too much sound scraping every inch around them for his voice to be recognized.
Harry’s legs felt heavy as he bolted towards her, but he couldn’t seem to pick them up to reach her in time. From the corner of his eye he noticed yet another looming, cloaked figure emerge from the shadows, their wand aiming straight towards Ginny. He tried to shout a countercurse, but the blazing green light smashed her straight in her side, right into her lungs and she launched backwards to the ground. “Crucio!” the Death Eater called again and Ginny began to convulse and writhe, foam nearly spilling from her lips.
Remus and Fred dove into action blasting the Death Eater away while many others started retreating from the battle. Harry swept Ginny up in his arms as the Order drove their enemies away from the Burrow and ran back towards the inside of the house. He found a couch that had not yet been overturned and laid her down, whispering her name, praying she would be all right.
“Ginny, are you okay? Where’s James? Who has James?” he tried to ask as calmly as possible, however he was sure his voice was shaking all over the place.
Her eyes began to blink open slowly and Harry’s hands clapped hard to her face. “Gin, baby, talk to me. Are you all right? Oh, talk to me, Gin, come back to me. I need to find James, where’s James?”
Ginny seemed to fly in and out of any state of awareness for three or four minutes before Harry saw her eyes open and connect with his.
“Harry?” She said quietly, straining her voice to move.
“Gin, where’s James?”
Ginny was pale and cold, her body fragile and shaking. Leaning in closer, Harry touched her chest and noticed something wet…blood. What curse had they hit her with?! Harry ripped back her blouse, exposing a thick, deep, glowing cut; she was losing blood fast. He didn’t recognize this curse, it wasn’t quite like any other cutting curses he’d seen yet and tried desperately to mutter any counter he could think of. Nothing was working. Thinking fast, he searched the room for something to wrap tightly around her, something to apply pressure and slow the bleeding.
The blouse Ginny was wearing was a long, button-down and Harry didn’t hesitate to remove it completely. Ripping the back to lengthen the fabric, he gently, but quickly, inched it around Ginny’s wounds and tied it firmly. He noticed a blanket on the floor and threw it over her, then kissed her drooping hand just as her eyes blinked open once more.
“James!” She yelped as she tried to shoot upwards, but her stomach seized and she launched back flat onto the pillows of the couch.
“Gin,” Harry tried once more, “Where is he? Where is James?”
Ginny looked at Harry in terror and tried to speak, but the mere movement of her lips caused too much pain and he only swallowed. She tried again, looked at Harry in such desperate fear and physical pain, then blacked out once more. Her body fell limp in Harry’s arms and he lowered his head in agony as George ran in with the badly wounded and groaning body of his friend, Derian.
“It’s awful out there!” He exclaimed as he carefully set Derian down and headed back towards the door. “The rest of us have been chasing them out, but they seem endless. They’re here and then they’re gone…I thought we were starting to understand them…but this…I didn’t…they…they got mum and dad…they got…”
Harry looked frantically at George. “I have to find James,” he said desperately to himself. “George, we have to stop this and regroup or they’re going to get everyone. It’s madness like this because they’re like a bunch of chickens that have just had their heads whacked. They don’t know what to do and they’re fighting on pure anger, the worst sort. They were waiting for us to slip and say where home was, and like an idiot that fool did (as he pointed to Derian). They found out about Ginny and the Burrow and look where we are now!” He pointed at Ginny’s body and stood to his feet. “We have to get rid of those filthy Death Eaters and get back to a secure location now. You know where. Take her there?”
George’s eyes were strained with hurt and frustration and he didn’t react.
“Use the coin to call for Ashland, he’ll know better how to heal these wounds than we would and go…now.”
George seemed torn, itching to get back to the heat of action and help the Order, but also understood the importance of getting those left, and especially those injured and unable to fight, back to a place they couldn’t be hurt any more. He’d already lost his parents and didn’t want to see his sister die as well. He nodded his head and approached his unconscious sibling, swept her in his arms and disapparated as Harry headed out.
Harry stopped the second he reached the grass, his heart beat paused at the bodies lying before him. Rage began to boil even hotter than before and he didn’t even know if there was time to grieve. Molly and Arthur…beloved Weasleys…he lifted his head toward the sky and thought dearly about those who had been killed for the war’s sake. His fingers rolled themselves into tightly wound fists and Harry let out a deep, bitter groan. Then he thought of his beautiful wife, who he might never see alive again if they couldn’t help her, and his precious son who was missing, completely helpless and probably terrified.
Where would she take him? Where would he go? What happened? Harry thought, his mind fighting for any solutions. He turned back towards the house and realized he’d never gone farther than Ginny’s room when he ran back outside…could James be higher? Ginny’s room had looked untouched…where did she sleep the night before?
Before he could tell himself to, Harry was running back into the house and up the winding stairs. Every room door was thrown open and every corner searched as he started calling for his son.
“James? James, are you here? Where are you?” He kept asking, trying to sound as approachable and tender as possible. “James, it’s daddy, where are you?”
With each empty room he moved from he became more and more discouraged until at last he was at the very top, Ron’s old room, and he slowly pushed the door open.
“James?” He said softly as the door creaked wide. “James, are you in here, it’s daddy. Lumos.”
The tip of his wand lit up and the room brightened enough to see every corner of the tiny space. He walked around slowly, looking behind the door and the closet. Almost giving up again there was a tiny squeak and Harry’s eyes darted to Ron’s bed. His heart pounding, his wand at the ready, he crept over and inched his fingers towards the bright orange blanket. Letting them grip tightly and counting down in his head, he sucked up one thick breath, threw back the covers and ducked under the bed, his wand pointed sharply forward.
“James!” He cried as the tiny, terrified eyes of his small son widened and let out a petrified scream.
Harry flew his arms out and pulled James from under the bed and deep into his chest. James began to cry and wrapped his tiny arms around his father, Harry rocking him and brushing his head.
“It’s okay, I’m here, James. Daddy’s here. It’s okay,” he whispered repeatedly, kissing and comforting his son. Tears began to drop from his own eyes as the relief that James was all right washed over him in an overwhelming flush. “It’s going to be okay…it’s okay…I’m here, I’m here. I’m here.”
James seemed to sob for hours, but it was only a few minutes that Harry lingered. Picking up James and holding him as closely to his chest as he could, Harry started to move downstairs again, quietly, cautiously, and now with new vengeance: to protect the boy in his arms.
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Every student was silent, enthralled in the story. Harry swallowed as the emotions of that fateful night reverberated in his memory. As brilliantly as he might ever tell that story, the depth, the fear, the passion and the overwhelming reality that existed in his heart would never quite be understood by anyone else.
“Did Ginny live?” A frightened young Ravenclaw whimpered out.
“Yes,” Harry said thoughtfully, shaking himself back into the moment. “Allanor Ashland was a very talented wizard when it came to healing spells and incantations and George did exactly as I asked, getting him to Ginny almost instantly as they arrived to Order base. It only took her a couple days to recover, but she would never see me again…until last month, that is.”
“What happened with James?” Another asked.
“When we got back to the front room of the Burrow where George had laid Derian, I was relieved to find a few Order members returning, however, with them they carried more wounded and…more dead. I refused to leave anyone behind in the open like that and ordered that every person, dead or alive, be taken back to base. We could properly bury them later, but we had to hurry. Remus’ wife, Nymphadora told me that Remus and Ron were still out fighting and I knew I had to join them. I handed James to her, and asked that she take care of him until I could get back. She apparated away and I headed out to find what was left of the Order.”
“Was there any more fighting? Where there still more Death Eaters?” The students were so eager to know, Harry thought, though his next class would have to aim that hunger towards the class subject matter more.
“I certainly thought the worst was over, and nearly shot Professor Lupin when we stepped into each other. However, a dark shadow emerged, a bloody and staggering Ron Weasley, limping forward (The students let out a large ‘ooo’ with the mention of such a famous name). I barely had time to hear him mention Hermione’s name, and tell me that I was going to be an uncle, which only made me more afraid for his life, when I was blasted by Bellatrix Lestrange. I was knocked unconscious and awoke later, captive.”
Suddenly the bell rang and no one moved, though a loud groan roared from the students.
“The rest you’ll have to hear another time, but read chapter four in your textbooks and write one page about the one defense spell you want to learn most and why for next class.” Harry said, ushering the group out of the sunlit room. “And have a good weekend!”
He walked to his desk, grabbed up his bag and followed the trail of talkative first years out the door. His first week as Professor Potter had finally ended and he was proud to say it had gone well, though, not much teaching had really gone on. There was endless curiosity about his story and with good reason, since so much of it was a complete mystery. Harry headed off through the courtyard when he noticed James talking to a very pretty Hufflepuff fourth year. On his way to nonchalantly walk around and scope out their conversation, he was cut off by a staunch headmistress calling his name.
“If you would follow me, Professor, I would like a word with you.” She said coolly.
What could I possibly of done? Harry thought to himself. Even after all these years, McGonagall still had that dominating power over him that always made him think he was in trouble when she said his name.
“How are you today?” Harry asked with a smile.
“I’m fine, Harry, thank you for asking. I was actually about to ask the same question to you,” the Headmistress chatted as the two walked through the bright sun.
“Oh, I’m wonderful, thank you,” Harry replied, trying desperately to be upbeat and not think about detention or any other sort of punishment he’d been used to at Hogwarts. “I’m glad to have the first week over; it was good.”
“Was it? I’m glad to hear that. I must say I’ve heard wondrous tales flying about the castle coming out of your classroom, Harry. Every student here seems to be undeniably enthralled in what you have to say.” McGonagall stopped walking and turned to face Harry with an uncharacteristically coy smirk on her face. “Though, if you could only actually teach them a bit more we might get somewhere.”
Harry smiled back and nodded. “Agreed.”
“Well, then, I’m off, but I will see you again soon, I’m sure. Plans for the weekend? Sticking around or heading out?”
“Heading out,” Harry replied. “I’m sure Ginny’s got her hands full back at home and I think I’ll go see what sort of mess I’ve made outside these walls.”
McGonagall laughed out loud and began to walk away, shouting, “Good luck with that!” as she left.
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