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SIYE Time:6:54 on 29th March 2024
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back to school
By lazyweekendmornings

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Category: Post-DH/PM
Characters:None
Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 99
Summary: Twenty one years after the war, Harry and Ginny return to Hogwarts as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and the new Flying Instructor. Much to their children's embarrassment. Shenanigans ensue.
Hitcount: Story Total: 26004; Chapter Total: 1638





Author's Notes:
this fic is compliant with al seven books, and based after the epilogue, but is NOT compliant with cursed child. enjoy!




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Twenty years ago, or even ten years ago, the sight of McGonagall standing at his doorstep would not be something that Harry’d be used to. Today, though, when he opens the door and sees her, wearing a thick travelling cloak despite the late summer heat of August, he says, “Hi, Professor. Do you want to come in?”

McGonagall looks behind her before she nods and steps in through the door, closing it firmly behind her.

“Cup of tea?” Harry offers.

“Yes, please. I would quite like that,” McGonagall says, and follows Harry into the kitchen once she’s taken off her cloak and hung it up.

Just as Harry and McGonagall reach the kitchen, no less than seven children come running downstairs, their footsteps thundering in their haste. Harry counts all three of his own, and Freddie, and Scorpius, and Lorcan and Lysander. The usual suspects, then, apart from Rosie and Hugo, who are off in France with Ron and Hermione and Hermione’s parents.

“Oh. Hi, Dad. Hi, Professor McGonagall,” Jamie, who’s at the head of the troupe, says. “Are you here to tell us that you’ve cancelled the summer essays and we don’t need to bother doing them?”

“No such luck today, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall says, but Harry notes the amused quirk at the corner of her lips.

“Oh, well. Worth a shot, don’t you think?” Jamie, always the philosopher, reasons.

“Never hurts, certainly,” McGonagall says.

Jamie turns to look at Harry. “Dad, we’re going to go play a game of Quidditch outside. Is that alright?”

“Of course, yeah,” Harry said. “Don’t go past the—”

“Past the garden, yes. We know, Dad,” Lily says, and she and Jamie exchange an eyeroll before they lead the others into the garden.

“You seem to have gained more children since I last spoke with you,” McGonagall says dryly, and takes a seat at the table. She’s been here often enough that it’s the same chair she always sits at.

“Yes, I don’t know where they keep popping up from,” Harry says dryly. He points his wand at the kettle and sits down opposite her.  

“Harry,” Ginny calls out, coming down the stairs, “have you seen my—oh, hi, Professor. I didn’t know you were stopping by today. Is everything alright?”

McGonagall hesitates for a second. Which is never a good sign. Harry and Ginny exchange a look; the smile on Ginny’s face fades slightly.

“What is it? What happened?” she asks, sitting down next to Harry. She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze: the only “Are you somehow here to expel all three of our children?”

“Of course not,” McGonagall says. “And Lily hasn’t even begun to attend Hogwarts yet. I am here to speak to you,” she tells Harry. “But this matter concerns the both of you, of course.”

Harry waves his wand. Three cups of tea make their way over to the table, and McGonagall takes a sip of hers before she continues speaking.

“I am here to offer you a job,” McGonagall says.

Harry blinks. Blinks again. And then turns to look at Ginny. “But… Professor, I have a job.” He’s been the Head of the Auror Office for years, and he knows for a fact that McGonagall knows, because he meets her every year to discuss the security arrangements at Hogwarts.

“I am aware of that, Potter,” McGonagall says, and Harry suddenly feels like he’s behind her desk in her office, being told off for something. “However…” she takes a deep breath, and her hands shake a little as she sips her tea. “There was a Dementor attack in Hogsmeade this morning.”

Harry sits up straighter. “What?” he says.

“When?” Ginny demands.

“In the early hours of the morning. At Madam Rosmerta’s flat,” McGonagall says.

Harry frowns. It’s his day off work, but he’s still surprised that he didn’t hear about this. “Did it get reported?” he asks.

McGonagall shakes her head. “Madam Rosmerta is skilled with the Patronus Charm. She chased it off, and wrote to me to inform me what had happened. She doesn’t seem worried about it. But… the last time Dementors were loose…”

“It wasn’t a good thing,” Harry says, and sighs. It’d been when Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. “We haven’t had any Azkaban breakouts, though.”

“I am aware of that, yes,” McGonagall says. “And Dementors are not in the employ of the Ministry anymore, correct?”

“I—y eah, we got rid of them ages ago,” Harry says, his mind racing. “So… Professor, you think…”

“I think that since the Dementors don’t report to the Ministry, it is possible that they might be reporting to someone else,” McGonagall says. “Of course, I may be paranoid. However, if a Dementor could get to Hogsmeade…”

“ Then they could get to Hogsmeade,” Ginny whispers.

“Precisely,&rdqu o; McGonagall says. “And after last time, I am not ready to let the students be ill-prepared for any threat, Dementors or… otherwise. And the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is open, as it turns out. And I remember that you, in your time, certainly taught the students how to defend themselves well.”

Next to him, Harry feels Ginny lift her arm. He doesn’t have to look at her to know her hand’s gone to the necklace she wears every day, the modified DA Galleon on a chain. “He did,” she agrees.

“I was a student then, too, Professor,” Harry points out.

“Yes. A student who faced challenges that few others have had to. And, if I remember correctly, you had most of Dumbledore’s Army produce working, effective Patronuses within a school year. And that was what you could do in secret meetings every few weeks. Imagine what you could do as a teacher, for a year,” McGonagall says patiently.

Harry’s tea has gone tepid, but he still takes a sip, just so he’ll have something to do. “We can increase the security at Hogwarts. More Aurors, or…”

“Or you can come back for a year and teach the students – including your children – how to defend themselves,” McGonagall says. “It’s not just the Dementor. There have been… whispers. At school.”

“What sort of whispers?” Ginny asks.

McGonagall hesitates. “I fear… that the realities of the war are fading. That wizards are finding it easier to slip into their old prejudices and… and act on them, despite our best efforts.” She stands up then and gives them a tired smile. “I ask that you consider it. It’s just for a year, after all. And, of course, should you wish to join your husband, the position of Quidditch Coach would be all yours,” she adds to Ginny.

“What happened to Hooch?” Ginny asks.

“Her wife and her are taking the year off. A year-round trip along the world. An extended honeymoon, I believe,” McGonagall says.

“Oh. Good for them,” Ginny says.

“Indeed, but it leaves our students in desperate need of Quidditch coaching,” McGonagall says. “If you both could let me know by the end of the week, I would appreciate it.”

*

“We can’t do this,” Ginny says later. They’re sitting on the sofa, cups of tea in hand. It’s late, late enough that the kids are in bed. Or are meant to be in bed, anyway, but Harry can’t bring himself to worry about that right now.

“No,” he says.

“We’ve got jobs,” Ginny says. “I’m the Quidditch Correspondent for the Prophet. You’re Head Auror. There’s talk that you’ll be made Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Harry pauses. “What talk?”

“I overhead the Minister talking about it,” Ginny says innocently.

Harry snorts, raising his eyebrow at her. “By which you mean…”

“I mean that Hermione mentioned it and then made me promise I wouldn’t say anything to anyone, because she isn’t meant to tell anyone in her capacity as Minister yet,” Ginny says.

“Of course,” Harry says with a grin. He wraps his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, setting his cup down. “Gin… Dementor attack. In Hogsmeade.”

“I know,” Ginny says. “The kids don’t know Patronuses yet, do they?”

“Jamie’ s going to be a Defence Owl student this year. He’ll probably learn it,” Harry says. “I mean… it’s on the curriculum. Or it should be.”

“It would be,” Ginny says, quietly, “if you were teaching.”

“But I’m not,” Harry says.

“No,” Ginny says. “You’re not. But if you were…”

“If I was, then Jamie would kill me. Or Al. Or Lily. Imagine how embarrassing it’d be for them, to have their dad teach them,” Harry says.

Ginny looks up at him, an evil smile playing on her lips. “Mm. The only thing more embarrassing than that would be both their parents at school.”

Harry laughs. He can imagine all of their faces. Not to mention Freddie, and Rose and Hugo, and Lorcan and Lysander, and Scorpius.  “Am I an awful parent if I say that that sounds like it’d be fun to watch?”

“If so, then I’m just as bad as you are,” Ginny says.

“I’d say you’re worse,” Harry says, and then squeezes Ginny’s shoulders.

“How dare you,” Ginny says, bringing a hand up to muffle a yawn. “So. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admits. “On the one hand… we have jobs. Jobs that we like. And our kids would hate it. But on the other hand…”

“On the other hand, there was a Dementor at Hogsmeade,” Ginny says quietly. “And our kids might be in danger.”

“Not just our kids. Everyone at Hogwarts,” Harry says. “And it doesn’t have to be… I mean, it’s just a year. I could take a year off from the Ministry. And go back after a year.”

“I could be the Quidditch Correspondent from anywhere, really,” Ginny says and sighs. “And I might finally finish that book I’m writing.”

“The book I’m not allowed to ask you about, you mean?” Harry says.

“Exactly.”

“It’s a memoir about me, isn’t it?” It’s been over twenty years of being with Ginny, almost twenty years of being married to her, and he still can’t resist teasing her. It’s second nature, and it’s worth it every time to get to see the spark of laughter in her eyes.

“Oh, yes. How did you know? I’ve got a letter ready to go addressed to Rita Skeeter’s publisher,” Ginny says without missing a beat.

Harry laughs, and then they both silent for long enough that Harry would think Ginny’s asleep if he didn’t know her as well as he does.

“We can’t protect them from everything,” Harry finally says, after a pause. “Our kids. The students at Hogwarts. We can’t protect everyone, Gin.” His words ring false in his own mouth. There’s a reason he went after Voldemort, and it wasn’t the prophecy. It’s the same reason he refused to step down after the war, why he joined the Aurors without thinking twice about it. Why, despite the late nights and the battles and the stress and the dangers, he’s never thought twice about his career choice. Hermione, a long time ago, called it a ‘saving people thing’. It isn’t like that, though. Not really. It’s just… he needs to know he’s doing everything he can to create a safer world. It’s instinctive by this point. And it’s not about protecting his children; or, at the very least, not only about that. But he does have to admit that if they’re in danger in Hogwarts, and he doesn’t do what he can to help them, to protect them, it doesn’t sit right with him.

Ginny looks up at him, right into his eyes. Her eyes are brown and piercing, and he finds it hard to look away from her. He always does. “Can’t we try, at the very least?” she says.

He knows she feels the same way as him. She may not have become an Auror, may have chosen Quidditch and writing instead, but she’s never run away, never backed away from danger. Not once. He thinks she might be one of the bravest people he knows, and he’s thought that since he was twelve, since the Chamber and everything that happened there. She’s only proven him right every day since then.

He takes her hand, starts to play with her fingers. “One year,” he says.

“One year,” she agrees. “Merlin. How on earth are we going to bring this up to the kids?”

*

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