Harry Potter and the Final Curse

Chapter 8 - The First Week of Teaching

Harry spent his first night back in Hogwarts for many years with mixed feeling. It was great to be back once more, yet the whole business of the attempted murders and threat of attack weighed heavily on his mind. He was pretty confident in his ability to ward off attacks from assailants, as he had done countless times before, but feared that this nostalgic feeling of being back at the first place he considered home would distract him from being totally on guard.

After a very restless sleep, Harry woke up in the morning incredibly tired, the sound of his alarm clock much more unwelcoming than usual. Resisting the temptation to throw the alarm clock against the hard stone floor, Harry stumbled out of bed and into the adjoining en-suite bathroom where he sprayed his face with cold water in a futile attempt to wake himself up. He somehow managed to groom himself and get dressed before slowly limping out of his room and into the staff common room.

Ignoring the morning greetings from a few of the teachers, Harry rushed over to the steaming hot coffee pot over by one of the windows. Shakily picking up the pot, he just about managed to poured himself a cup using one of the nearby mugs, that were emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest. Even though it nearly burned his mouth and throat, Harry downed the coffee in one go, and then immediately went for a refill. The coffee seemed to have worked and he was now reasonably awake.

"Tough morning, huh?" said a man who was reaching for the coffee pot, which seemed to refill itself.

"Yeah," said Harry, drowsily. "Couldn't sleep."

"I don't think we've been introduced," said the man offering his hand out. "The name's Stewart, Stewart Ackerley."

"Pleased to meet you, Stewart," said Harry, shaking his hand. "I suppose you, like everyone else round here, already know my whole life story."

"Pretty much yeah," said Stewart. "I was here the same time as you were so it was practically unavoidable really."

Harry racked his brains trying to remember Stewart, but came up with a blank. "You weren't in my year, or I'd have remembered you."

"No I wasn't. When I first came here, you were already in your fourth year, so it's not surprising you don't remember me."

"That would have been one of the few times I actually attended the sorting ceremony. With a name like Ackerley you must have been top of the list."

"I was," recalled Stewart, sitting down on one of the nearby couches. "It was really scary being the first on up there. It wasn't as bad as I thought though, and when the hat said 'Ravenclaw' I jumped for joy. That was the house my father was in, you see."

Harry tried to remember that night once more to see if he could remember something about the Ravenclaws but the only that came in to his mind was that of Cho Chang, which he didn't really want to think about.

"So anyway, what do you teach here?" asked Harry.

"Flying, and I referee Quidditch matches too," said Stuart proudly. "I replaced Madam Hooch when she retired a few years ago."

"Oh, so you must be pretty good on a broom then?"

"You could say that. I used to play professionally for the Wimbourne Wasps, until I err...," said Stewart, going very quiet towards the end.

"Until what?"

"I'd rather not go into it. Let's just say I had an accident, which left me unable to play properly. Anyway I then trained to become a referee, which in turn led to here." Harry thought that whatever Stewart was keeping concealed must be pretty important, but he respect his wishes and let it be. "You up for breakfast? They're probably serving it in the Great Hall by now."

Harry thought he really better eat something, even if he didn't really feel like it. He didn't want to start his first day of teaching with his stomach rumbling. "Breakfast? Sure."

Harry and Stewart went down to the Great Hall, through a secret passage way behind a tapestry that only the teachers, and anyone who had access to some marauder knowledge, knew about. The passage way took at least a minute of the normal journey time between the staff quarters and the Great Hall and was only really supposed to be used during emergencies, although that didn't stop most people.

On arriving in the Great Hall, with the decor now back to normal after last nights festivities, Harry found his way over to the teachers table at the far end. A few of the students along the way said 'good morning' to him, including his nephew Arthur Weasley, who seemed to make a point out of it. Harry greeted Hermione as he sat down next to her and helped himself to some toast.

"You look terrible, Harry," said Hermione as she slurped her cup of coffee.

"I feel terrible too," said Harry buttering his toast. "Not really the best of starts for my first day of teaching."

"My first day didn't go too well either. I was so nervous I almost forgot where the Transfiguration classroom was, even though I'd been there a million times before."

"That's a point - Where is the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom anyway?" asked Harry slyly.

"It's on the first floor. Go up the main stairs, take the first right and then.....," explained Hermione, trailing off at the end as she finally got the joke. "Oh, very funny, Harry. Almost as funny as that time you told everyone there was an evil pepperoni of doom causing memory loss to any student that ate it."

"Actually that was Ron that came up with that one, but it was still funny all the same."

"Poor Neville didn't eat pizza for about a month after that," giggled Hermione.

* * *

At about quarter to nine that morning, carrying a leather briefcase full of Professor Tyler's notes, Harry made his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom where he would sort out a couple of things before his fourth year class would arrive. He was mildly shocked to find all of them were already there waiting for him. He noticed that a couple of girls in the front row were reading a book with the title 'The Rises and Falls of the Dark Lord', which Harry knew featured him quite prominently. The rest of the class began whispering indistinctly to each other at the arrival of their teacher.

"Good morning, class," said Harry, trying to sound assertive, as he went over to the teacher's desk and began to unpack his things. He somehow thought that the lesson would start by itself, but then realised that he had to kick things off. He wasn't sure exactly how to go about that, but glancing at the fidgety faces of his students gave him an idea. "I know many of you will have some questions for me, so considering that the lesson does not officially start for another ten minutes, I will answer what I can."

The class looked around at each other nervously until, finally, a familiar sandy haired boy put up his hand.

"My dad told me that you were in Gryffindor," quizzed Seamus Junior.

"Yes, Seamus, and I'm proud of it," said Harry. The rest of the class were impressed that he knew Seamus' name. "In fact I have a very good reason for being a Gryffindor."

Another boy, who was sat next to Seamus, put up his hand, "Why is that, sir?"

"Believe it or not, I'm actually the heir of Godric Gryffindor himself," said Harry proudly. "I found out that in my sixth year here, and it sure was a surprise."

"Lord Voldemort was Salazar Slytherin's heir wasn't he?" asked one of the girls in the front row who had the book open.

"Yes he was," said Harry. "There was an intense rivalry between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin back in the days when the school was in its infancy, which continued all the way through various heirs of both men, ending up with me and Tom."

"Tom, sir?" asked a boy at the back.

"Tom Riddle," explained Harry. "That was Lord Voldemort's real name. Anyway the rivalry created formed a magical bond over the years, which meant that the only one capable of defeating one of the heirs was the opposite heir."

Harry deliberately didn't mention the prophecy that was made. After all it wasn't exactly common knowledge, and there were only about half a dozen people still alive, including himself, that actually knew about its content.

"So you were the only one really capable of defeating Voldemort then?" asked another boy, putting the pieces together.

"Yes, exactly," said Harry, "but the reverse was also true. You know partly down to what I knew of Voldemort, and several other people I could mention, when I was at school my opinion of Slytherin house was pretty low. I'm just curious - how do the Gryffindors of today see them?"

Several of the students began muttering to their friends, before one girl answered.

"Well I guess they're ok, I suppose," she said hesitantly. "We're not exactly the best of friends, but we try and get along with each other."

A small boy at the back of the class put his hand up. "Can you please sign my chocolate frog card sir?" he asked, holding one up, and changing the subject from the Slytherins.

Harry walked over to where the boy was and took the card from him. The card was one of himself and he examined it carefully. The writing on the back pretty much summarised his entire life:

Harry Potter

July 31^st 1980 - Present

When he was only one year old, Harry survived

the killing curse, cast by Lord Voldemort,

the only person known to do so. Dubbed 'the boy who lived'

through much of his life, Harry was largely responsible

for the eventual defeat of Voldemort in 1998.

Currently employed as an Auror,

Harry enjoys Quidditch and listening to music.

His picture on the front was apparently shocked to see himself staring back at him causing Harry to laugh slightly. As far as he knew, there were several versions of his card, each telling a different part of his story, including one focussing on Quidditch where it stated he that was the youngest Seeker in over a century. Ron, having always been a little bit jealous of Harry's fame, sulked for days after the first one came out.

"You know you shouldn't really have these during lessons. I may have to confiscate it and remove ten points from Gryffindor," said Harry in a jesting way. "But instead I'll just sign it for you."

Harry borrowed the quill from the boy and signed the card for him on the only empty bit of space he could find. A signed Harry Potter card was worth a small fortune to a proper collector, especially the limited edition one where he wore his Auror dress robes.

The boy had a look of jubilation on his face and was probably already planning in head about showing it off to his friends later.

"What's your name?" asked Harry

"Wood, sir, Daniel Wood," said the boy politely.

"Any relation to Oliver Wood?"

"That's my father. You know him?"

"Yes, he was the captain of the house Quidditch team for three years before he left. He was a good captain your dad, and one hell of a keeper."

"You played Quidditch too didn't you, sir?" asked a girl.

"Yes, I was a Seeker," confirmed Harry, "and I was pretty good at it too, or so people tell me anyway."

"Cool. Could you teach our team to play Quidditch better? We're not too hot at the moment," asked a boy.

"Well I'm not promising anything, but I might be able to do something," said Harry, smiling.. This seemed to please a lot of the class. "Anymore questions before we start the lesson?"

There was a moment of silence before one girl asked, "Did you know Professor Granger at school? She was in Gryffindor too, and you're about the same age."

"Did I know Professor Granger? That's an understatement. We became friends soon into our first year here, and our relationship grew stronger each day. We still are good friends to this day, but there are no romantic attachments so don't go getting any ideas. She wasn't my best friend though, that was Ron Weasley, and he still is."

"Weasley? Like Jacques and Philip Weasley?" asked a girl.

Harry nodded. "He's their uncle. Now if that's all of the questions, I'd like to start the lesson".

The class stayed silent.

"Now, who knows what the unforgivable curses are?" asked Harry.

The lesson continued with Harry explaining the unforgivable curses. He had seen them all first hand, and been subjected to all three as well at one point or another, so he could describe them in unpleasant detail. At the end of the session, most of the students went away muttering praises for how good a lesson it was, which made Harry very happy; his first lesson a success.

The rest of the week the lessons went pretty much the same with Harry having to answer various questions about himself, including his award of 'Order of Merlin, First Class' and the occasion where he and Ron had crashed a flying car into the Whomping Willow. Harry didn't mind answering these questions one bit and he was glad that he was known not only for his confrontations with Voldemort but also his various misdemeanours at school.

The only lesson that didn't go exactly to plan was the first lesson he had with Lily, on Thursday afternoon. Lily decided to show off a little by sticking her hand up every time there was a question put to the class; much like Hermione used to but, unlike Hermione, she didn't get all of them right. It was a little embarrassing to say the least, and when she called him Dad, when he specifically asked her to call him Professor Potter, it just made things worse.

Also, with regard to Lily, he discovered that she had gotten up to a lot worse things than her letters home had suggested. Both she and Tina had gotten into trouble at least three times a week, ranging from minor infractions like talking in class, to bigger things like setting off dung bombs in the staff room. Although they had lost a few house points here and there, they were still popular among their house, and were beginning to get the reputation of being 'a lot of fun'.

In his first week, Harry discovered a whole new side to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one that was just as full of wonder and surprises as the one he once knew.

* * *

On Friday night, at the end of the first week, Harry was responsible for patrolling the corridors. This would be the first time that he would really be alone in the school and therefore a prime opportunity for any would be assassins. To try and increase his chances, Harry decided to wear his invisibility cloak, the one that he had acquired a few years ago in a raid. He also had his wand at the ready and focussed his mind; he would be ready if anything happened.

It was approaching midnight and the only encounter had been one with Mr. Jacob Speckles, the school caretaker, who was also doing his rounds. Mr. Speckles was a generally a much more pleasant man than Filch was but he still got uptight when students left muddy footprints all over the floors. Fortunately, unlike Filch, he was an able enough wizard so most messes could be cleared up with a flick of his wand.

"All quiet, Mr. Speckles?" asked Harry.

"All quiet, Professor," said Mr. Speckles. "No sign of anything yet, not even Peeves."

"Give it another five minutes or so."

Harry left Mr. Speckles alone, and got back to his own rounds. Everything was quiet tonight, perhaps a little too quiet. He walked along a corridor on the sixth floor, still deadly silent aside from his own footsteps and the sound of the wind gently rattling the windows. He was just about to check out a nearby classroom when the sound of an almighty crash came from round the next corner of the corridor. Harry ran as fast as he could to the point where he heard the crash and found a suit of armour in pieces scattered all over the floor.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" a voice manically laughed from above.

Harry turned his head upwards and pulled the invisibility cloak away so he could get a better look. "Peeves," he said grinning. "I might have known."

Floating high above him, just short of the ceiling, was Peeves the Poltergeist, and bane of Hogwarts' caretakers.

"Potty, Potty, Potter!" sang Peeves joyfully. "I thought you might have forgotten about old Peeves!"

"I think that's impossible," said Harry. "Are you going to clear this mess up or do I have to go and get Mr. Speckles?"

"Get Speckly if you want, Peeves doesn't care!" he laughed.

Harry, with a determined look on his face, raised his wand and pointed it straight at Peeves.

"Ooooh, Potty is getting angry," teased Peeves. "Oh, I'm sooooo scared!"

"So you should be, Peeves," said Harry resolutely. "I've dealt with far worse than you in the past."

Harry prepared to cast a spell at Peeves, not one to hurt him, just enough to drive him away, when he experienced something he had not felt in over eighteen years - his scar began to hurt. It wasn't an excruciating pain as it had been before, but more of a dull pain that was bearable, although not exactly very comfortable. As Harry put his hand to his scar in order to help numb the pain a little, Peeves saw it as an opportune moment to escape, and flew down the corridor, laughing the whole way.

Looking round frantically, Harry tried to locate what, if anything, was causing the pain, but he could find nothing. Then just as suddenly as it had appeared, the pain vanished. He remembered stories about old scars, both normal and magical, start hurting again after years of remaining dormant, but this was no ordinary scar. Did it mean that something was happening to Voldemort? No, it couldn't be.

Harry dismissed the thought for a moment, thinking he must be overreacting, and turned his attention back to the mess Peeves had made. With a quick bit of wand work, the suit of armour was back together and, just to finish the job properly, Harry quickly cleaned it.

"Thank you, kind sir," said a voice coming from the armour.

"Anytime," said Harry.

After doing a final check on his handiwork, Harry resumed his patrol of the corridor, although he still couldn't help thinking about his scar, and the implications it might have. He decided to put it on the back burner for now, and made a plan to check it out more thoroughly tomorrow.

Walking more tentatively from now on, Harry began to keep his eyes and ears open for anything that might be even slightly suspicious. Listening to his footsteps, they began to sound uneven, and then it finally dawned on him - There was in fact two sets of footsteps. He was being followed.

Harry had to find out who was behind him without making it too obvious. He remembered that there was a large mirror not too far ahead of him, around the next corner. Trying to make his walk there as casual as possible, Harry ended up directly facing the mirror. He looked in it, but all he could see was himself, staring back at him. Since the mirror plan failed, Harry decided to see if he could loose them. After some very sharp turns in close succession, he couldn't hear the other set of footsteps anymore and, for a second, he thought he had succeeded, but all he had really accomplished was finding himself in a dead end.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted a gravely voice from behind him.

Instinct took over Harry's body as he darted aside although he didn't have to go very far as the curse would probably have missed anyway. He looked frantically for a place of cover, but there was nowhere apart from the door about five metres the wrong way. He had to risk it, and pray that he wouldn't have to waste time unlocking it.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted the voice again, although this time it was now in front of him, as he went for the door.

He tried to get a glimpse of his attacker but it was too dark to see much of anything. Luckily the door wasn't locked and he just managed to get inside before the green curse flashed past the back of him. Slamming the door behind him, Harry found himself in a small classroom, that didn't look like it had been used in quite some time. Seeing refuge behind the teacher's desk, wand at the ready, he waited in earnest for the attacker.

The door opened, and Harry could just barely make out the form of a person in the darkness.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted the dark figure, but the spell missed my miles, hitting a desk on the other side of the room, causing it to smash into pieces.

Harry sat their puzzled for a brief moment wondering how a person with the ability to cast the killing curse couldn't even shoot straight.

"Crucio!" shouted the figure, obviously trying a different approach, but it was about as useless as the last attempt.

Harry needed to retaliate before the figure actually got lucky, but he couldn't fight someone he couldn't see.

"Luminosus!" said Harry, and he pointed the thin ray of very bright light now issuing from his wand straight at the figure in the doorway.

The figure fled almost instantly but, before they did, Harry could just about make out that they were wearing Hogwarts' robes. Harry nimbly leapt over the teacher's desk he was using as cover and gave chase. The figure seemed to be remarkably swift in their escape, and Harry lost them somewhere on the seventh floor.

Harry wouldn't be surprised in the attacker came back and try to kill him again once, so Harry needed to find a safe place of refuge. The nearest place that came to mind was Gryffindor tower, where Hermione's quarters were; he would be safe there. Picking up speed, and constantly on the lookout, Harry made his way there, hoping Hermione would be understanding of why he woke her up this late at night.