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SIYE Time:12:35 on 28th 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: 25997; Chapter Total: 1492





Author's Notes:
thank you to everyone who's been leaving me reviews! they help me write faster and mean the world to me. i love you all




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Harry’s first class of the day – of the year, of his teaching career – is with the fifth-year Gryffindors. He wants to be there early to set up a few things, so he rushes through breakfast, eating as fast as he can without being too obvious about it.

“You might want to give chewing a go. You’re basically inhaling all your food,” Ginny says, amused.

“In a hurry, Harry?” Hagrid asks.

Not being obvious has failed. “Just want to make sure I’m not late, is all.”

“Who’s your first class with?” Hagrid asks.

“The fifth year Gryffindors,” Harry says, helping himself to another slice of toast and taking a sip of his still-scalding hot tea.

“They’re&hellip ; a lively bunch,” Neville puts in from next to Hagrid.

Hagrid snorts. “Lively is right… you’re gonna have your hands full with young James, Harry.”

“And Freddie, too, don’t forget about him,” Neville says. “And the other Gryffindors, for that matter. That Danielle…”

“G ood luck,” Hagrid tells Harry seriously. “You’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Harry grins. He washes down his toast by finishing his tea and gets to his feet.

“Try not to give our son detention,” Ginny says.

Harry can’t resist leaning in and kissing her cheek. “No promises,” he says, flashing her a smile before he makes his way to the classroom.

It’s the same classroom Lupin had used in his third year, and the thought of it makes him smile as he waves his wand. He moves the desks and chairs out of the way to the corner, pressed up against the wall, leaving most of the classroom bare and empty. Plenty of room. Having done that, he conjures up some floor cushions, and finally, Summons an old creaking cabinet from the teachers’ staff room.

The Gryffindors file in right on time; there are about fourteen, and Harry recognises most of them from the few times in the past years he’s stopped by Hogwarts to give a talk about Defence. They’re wearing curious expressions, most of them, and they look eager. Harry watches them, glancing at each of them before his gaze settles on James.

Jamie’s in the front of the group, with his usual friends: Freddie, of course, Leah Wood, and Danielle Jordan. Freddie and Leah have their Prefect badges pinned to their robes, and if Harry didn’t know them, he’d think they were the picture of responsibility. James seems to be re-enacting a Quidditch match, and he has the rest of them laughing, open and free in a way that Harry wasn’t when he was their age. He’s incredibly grateful for it. And then, watching them laugh, he suddenly thinks about the Marauders from the Pensieve, about his dad ruffling his hair and laughing with Sirius and Remus and Peter. Jamie has the same Patronus as James did, too, and similar messy hair, even if it’s the red of his mother’s…

He clears his throat, both to snap himself out of his sudden reverie and to get everyone’s attention.

“Hi,” he says. “Er… good morning.”

Jamie raises a hand and waves at him cheerfully. “Hi, Professor Dad,” he says.

“Uncle Professor,” Freddie says without missing a beat.

“Alright, alright,” Harry says, but he can’t hide his amusement. He perches on the edge of his desk. “Okay. We have a lot to do today, but first… I know you all have questions, especially after everything that happened on the train.” He sees, from the corner of his eye, Jamie fidgeting uncomfortably, but he doesn’t draw attention to it. “So. Ask away, and I’ll do my best to answer what I can before we get to it. But do me a favour and tell me your names, too. And —yeah?” he asks, when he sees a girl behind Freddie raise her hand.

“Maya Abernathy. Where are we meant to sit, Professor?” she asks.

“Wherever you’d like,” Harry says mildly. He’s still not used to being called Professor, rather than Auror Potter or even Head Auror Potter. “You won’t be sitting for long, so… grab a cushion, or a chair. That goes for everyone, by the way. Get comfortable.”

He waits. It takes a few minutes for everyone to pull up chairs or cushions and get settled down. “Right,” he says, once everyone’s watching him. They all seem to be paying far more attention to him than he can remember paying most of his teachers, and his face feels a bit warm. “Who’s next?”

Freddie raises his hand. “Yes, sir, I’m Freddie Weasley, sir,” he says, and Harry rolls his eyes fondly. “Why’ve you moved our desks to the side?”

“You’ll find out,” Harry said, and pushes up the sleeves of his robes, waiting for the next question. Like clockwark, it arrives:

A boy at the back is next to raise his hand. “Rory Finnigan. Professor, what happened on the train?”

Harry takes a minute to form his words. “There was… a Dementor,” he says. “And I think more than one – most Dementors don’t travel alone, and I think I saw more – but there was only one on the train. It stopped the train, and attempted to board.”

“How did the Dementor get on?” Maya Abernathy asks.

Harry considers. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “The Ministry of Magic have not associated with Dementors in years. Decades, really. Nor has Hogwarts. So we don’t know how it got there, why they thought to attack the train…”

“And was that why it went dark?” Rory asks.

Harry bites his lip. He thinks of sugar-coating the truth, but these aren’t just children. They’ll be of age in a few years, and they deserve the truth. He remembers how he feels when Lupin first taught him about Dementors, and the relief that the knowledge of how to chase them away brought him. “Dementors… they’re terrible, terrible things. They suck the happiness out of their surroundings, and they feed on the misery and despair of others. Make it go dark and foggy, remind you of your worst memories. Until they leave or are chased off, it’s impossible to feel truly happy.”

The girl sitting next to Rory is next. “Jaspreet Patel. Professor, so how did you chase the Dementor off?”

“A Patronus. He’s done it before, you know,” Danielle Jordan says, without raising her hand. “Produced his first Patronus when he was thirteen.”

Harry raises his eyebrow at Danielle.

“What? You’re kind of a celebrity, Professor Potter,” Danielle says, unrepentant. “We’d know about it even if you weren’t Jamie’s dad. My dad says your Patronus is famous. It’s a stag, right?”

Harry meets Jamie’s eyes. Jamie grins at him, but doesn’t say anything. For whatever reason, he doesn’t seem to have told his friends about his Patronus, and so Harry doesn’t comment about that. Instead, he nods at Danielle. “Danielle’s right. I used a Patronus.” Anticipating the next question, Harry says, “Patronuses are the best way of dealing with Dementors. It’s sort of… an embodiment of your best memories, your joy, but without the sadness, so the Dementors have nothing to feed on. That’s how it chases them away.”

“Can you show us yours?” Leah Wood asks eagerly. “Please, Professor?”

Everyone seems to be sitting up straighter, Harry notices, and paying closer attention, which is why he gives in. “Expecto Patronum,” Harry says, and watches as the stag gambols around the classroom before disappearing. Jamie in particular is delighted to see it, and Leah and Danielle giggle. “In its corporeal and most effective form, Patronuses take the form of animals,” Harry continues. “Mine is a stag. But it takes time to develop corporeal Patronuses. At first, it’s more like—like silver mist, or something, but practice makes perfect. And, of course, it’s much harder to produce in situations of actual peril.”

“We’ve studied Patronuses before,” Jaspreet says. “But we’ve never had to do it. We’ve studied the theory…”

“Usu ally, practical lessons like that are reserved for NEWT students,” Harry says. He’s been studying the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum from the last year. “And for younger students, they stick with the theory.”

“But if the Dementors were on the train, couldn’t they get to Hogwarts as well?” Leah Wood asks, looking pale now that the Patronus has faded. She shifts a little closer to Jamie, and he brushes his shoulder against hers. “Shouldn’t we know how to protect ourselves?”

“We&rsqu o;ve increased the security at Hogwarts,” Harry says. “And every Professor knows defensive magic, and Patronuses, and we’re all on the lookout. But,” he adds, “You’re right to worry. All of you, you’re right to ask questions. One of my teachers had a saying: constant vigilance. So I will be teaching you Patronuses.” He raises a hand when he hears their excited gasps and whispers. “But not today. First, the basics. So. I want everyone to pair up. Today we’ll be practising—”

“ Will it be Expelliarmus, Professor?” Jamie asks innocently. “Out of curiosity. Just a random guess.”

“Well. Other wizards can’t attack you if they don’t have their wand,” Harry says. “And,” he says, remembering the first ever Dumbledore’s Army lesson, “it’s saved my life. So yes, James, first Disarming.”

“We&rsqu o;re in fifth year,” pipes up someone from the back. Harry looks at whoever spoke up: a girl, who’s frowning at him. “I’m Fatima Sheikh, Professor,” she adds. “Isn’t Expelliarmus a bit rudimentary? It’s not even on the OWL curriculum, isn’t it too simple for us?”

“If so, today’s lesson should be very easy, then, and we can move on to more complex things quickly,” Harry says and Fatima sits back, mollified by that. “So, get into pairs, please. I want one of you to attempt to Disarm the other, and the other to attempt to block the attack with Protego. But first… a demonstration, because wand movements are as important as the actual incantation and I want to make sure we don’t make any simple mistakes. If any of you want to volunteer…”

Jamie&r squo;s hand is up in the air before anyone else’s, and Harry is not surprised at all.

“Come on then, Mr. Potter,” Harry says.

“Thanks, Professor Potter,” James says easily. He gets up and walks to the desk. “Do me a favour and don’t embarrass me in front of Leah,” he says, only audible to Harry’s ears.

Harry bites back an amused smile. “Alright,” he says, and then, to the rest of the class, “Okay. I’m going to try and Disarm James – with Expelliarmus – and he’s going to try and block my attack with the Shield Charm – Protego.” He demonstrates the movement for both with his wand as he talks. “Ready, James?” he asks.

Jamie nods and stands, wand at the ready.

“Okay. Three, two, one,” Harry counts off, and then says, “Expelliarmus!”

Protego!”

A second’s pause, and then Harry’s wand clatters to the floor. Harry grins at James. “Well done,” he says. “Five points to Gryffindor. Alright, everyone, team up and get to work.”

Jamie winks, picks up Harry’s wand, hands it back to him, and returns to his friends.

Slowly, everyone gets up and pairs off. Jamie and Freddie have paired up, Harry notices, as have Leah and Danielle. Harry leaves them alone, figuring that he’ll get to them later. He makes his way through the classroom, correcting little things here and there. He can’t help but be reminded of the first DA lesson yet again, but this time, he doesn’t have to worry about Umbridge, which is always a bonus.

“Alright,” he calls out at the end of the double period, once everyone’s had a chance to both successfully Disarm and Shield a few times. “For next week, I want you to write an essay about a situation where you think Expelliarmus or Protego can help. And no,” he adds, catching Freddie’s eye, “battling Voldemort doesn’t count, so don’t try that. Due next week, so don’t put it off for too long.”

Jamie lingers back at the end of the class, once everyone has left.

“So, how embarrassing was I?” Harry asks, going to his desk and sitting down.

“Not too bad, all things considered,” Jamie says, but his usual mischievous look is gone. “Dad—will they come back?”

“The Dementors?” Harry asks. When Jamie nods, Harry says, “I don’t know. I really hope not. We’re looking into it, though.”

“Don’ t know how the Aurors will figure out anything with you gone,” Jamie grumbles. “But don’t worry, Dad. We’ll figure it out together from here.”

Harry watches James go, smiling a little to himself. He’d say his first class, all things considered, can be counted as a success.

 

*

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