Harry was a mess for the beginning of his first day of classes. Ginny hadn’t thought to wake him before departing for the Great Hall, and he only managed to arrive at breakfast in time to grab a couple slices of toast and hurry to his classroom, shoving them in his mouth on the way.
Harry’s first class of the day was the fourth-year Gryffindors. He had spent nearly an hour the previous evening trying to decide whether it was lucky or unlucky that his own estranged children would be in the first Hogwarts class he would ever teach. He never had reached a conclusion. He swept into the classroom, brushing crumbs from the front of his robes with one hand while trying to flatten his hair with the other.
“Good morning, class,” he said stiffly as he came to the front of the room. The class fell silent. “As I’m sure you already know, I am Professor Potter, and this is Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Contrary to popular belief, I am not, nor have I ever been, dead. To my knowledge, the only deceased professor at Hogwarts is Professor Binns. Now, the curriculum for fourth-years is counter-curses, so that’s mainly what we’ll be covering, although we may end up squeezing in a few other things as well. Any questions before we get started?”
Several students raised their hands, and Harry pointed to a girl with straight brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. “Yes, Miss...?”
“Bingham,” she supplied.
“Thank you, Miss Bingham. It may take me a while to learn all of your names, but I promise I will do it eventually. Go ahead with your question.”
“Well, this isn’t exactly about the class, but I was wondering... are you married to the other Professor Potter?”
Harry made a mental note to be more specific about the types of questions he would allow in class. “Yes,” he answered, without offering further comment.
“So you’re really Lily and Brian’s dad, then?” asked a dark-haired girl.
“Look,” Harry said, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of his voice. “This isn’t relevant to the class, so let’s just drop this line of questions now. If you want, you can ask Lily and Brian all about me after class. Now, does anybody have a question about Defense Against the Dark Arts?”
A tall Black boy in the front row raised his hand. He looked very familiar, and Harry wondered if he knew the boy’s father. “Are you by chance related to Lee Jordan?” Harry asked.
The boy nodded. “He’s my dad.” That answered that question.
“What did you want to know, Mr. Jordan?”
“Well, I was just wondering... I mean, I heard you were fourteen when you first really dueled with You-Know-Who, and I was wondering how you managed to make it out alive.”
Harry gritted his teeth and took a slow, calming breath. Lord Voldemort had been dead since before any of these children were born, and yet they had still been taught to fear his name. After a moment, he smiled slightly as he realized that a perfect teaching opportunity had just presented itself. “Sorry, Mr. Jordan; I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”
Jordan looked blankly at him. “But- You defeated him, didn’t you? So you must know who You-Know-Who is.”
Harry didn’t respond; he just stared at the boy, making him more and more uncomfortable.
Finally, Jordan said, “You know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
Harry finally broke eye contact. “Does anybody know who Mr. Jordan is referring to?” he asked the class. All eight students’ hands went up. “Miss Bingham?”
“He’s talking about the Dark wizard who came dangerously close to taking over Wizarding Britain in the 1970s and again in the 1990s.”
“Yes, but who was this Dark wizard?” Harry asked. “You there-” he pointed at a short, stocky boy with dirty-blond hair, “-what’s your name?”
“Peter Winter, sir.”
“Okay, Peter Winter. Do you know what this Dark wizard we’re discussing called himself?”
“Er, his followers called him the Dark Lord,” the boy answered evasively.
“Anyone else want to try? Miss Potter?”
“The wizard they’re talking about called himself Lord Voldemort,” Lily answered. Everyone but Harry, Lily, and Brian flinched at the sound of Voldemort’s name, and a couple of the students actually let out soft hissing sounds.
“Very good,” Harry said. “Now I want you all to listen carefully while I explain why I just did that. Lord Voldemort-” the class gave collective shudder, “-has been dead since before any of you were born. I watched him die personally, and I can assure you that he’s not coming back. But even if he wasn’t dead, there’s nothing to be feared from his name. As a very wise old wizard once told me, ‘Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.’” He tapped the blackboard with his wand, and the words appeared in his customary scrawl. “That’s lesson number one.”
“Who told you that, sir?” asked Winter.
“Albus Dumbledore,” Harry answered, and was pleased to see a look of reverence come over the class. Apparently Lord Voldemort was not the only one whose fame had outlasted his mortal life, and for that Harry was grateful. “He told me that when I was in my first year, and I’ve-” he stopped suddenly as he realized that it wouldn’t exactly be true to claim he had never forgotten it. After only a moment’s pause, he quickly changed what he was going to say to, “I’ve taken it to heart ever since. Do any of you really believe that I ever could have defeated Voldemort if I had been so terrified of him that I couldn’t even say his name?”
An average-looking boy with short brown hair raised a shaky hand. “But- But, I mean, that was you, wasn’t it? You were The Chosen One, weren’t you? So it’s not really the same thing as with us.”
Harry rounded on him, his eyes flashing. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said in a voice of forced calm. How was he ever going to deal with these stubborn teenagers and their idiotic ideas? Harry almost laughed out loud as the question entered his mind, and he realized that he might actually be growing up. His frustration soon returned, however, as he looked at the boy and tried to decide how to answer. “Your name is...?”
“Harper, sir,” said the boy. “Harrison Harper.”
“Well, Mr. Harper, I think you ought to believe a bit less of what’s written in the Daily Prophet, and try having a bit more common sense. I wasn’t born with any extraordinary powers. It’s true that I gained a few abilities after Lord Voldemort attacked me the first time, but that wasn’t what allowed me to finish him. The key to defeating a Dark wizard is always the same: teamwork and trust. I never could have beaten him and his Death Eaters alone, but with the help of others I was able to succeed. Fighting the Dark Arts isn’t just about learning curses and counter-curses, although that is certainly part of it. But being able to trust your allies with your life is just as important, and it’s the one thing no Dark wizard can ever do.”
“Why can’t Dark wizards trust their friends?” asked Jordan.
“Because the Dark Arts corrupt your mind and your soul. The further a wizard sinks into them, the more power-hungry he becomes, and two power-hungry people will always end up fighting for supremacy at some point.
“So, we’ve covered two essential points already: The importance of trust, and the ridiculousness of fearing a name. In fact, I think I’m going to set a new policy for this class. Anyone wishing to receive a passing grade will have to say the name ‘Lord Voldemort’ out loud in front of the class before the end of the year.”
A gasp of shock shot through the classroom as six of the eight students recoiled at the thought. Harry just rolled his eyes at them and continued talking.
“All right, now down to business. We’re supposed to be studying counter-curses this year, right? So who can tell me what a counter-curse is? Miss...?” He pointed to the dark-haired girl who had asked if he was Lily and Brian’s father.
“MacDonald,” she answered. “First name’s Olivia, if you want to know. Counter-curses are spells that counteract the effects of curses, either by blocking them or by removing them.”
Harry nodded at her. “So what counter-curse might be useful in a duel?”
Brian’s hand was the first in the air, and Harry called on him to answer. “Reducto,” Brian said.
“Useful in a duel, yes, but that’s a curse, not a counter-curse. Anyone else? Yes, Miss...?” Harry pointed to the only student who hadn’t yet asked or answered a question.
The girl swallowed hard before saying, very quietly, “Alison Davies, sir. What about the Shield Charm?”
“Good,” said Harry. “The Shield Charm is an excellent example of a counter-curse. It blocks the curse before it ever has a chance to act. Mr. Harper, what’s another?”
“Er- I don’t know, sir,” Harper said, looking down at his clasped hands.
“Anyone?” Harry asked. Nobody raised their hand. “You’re going to feel really foolish for forgetting this one: Finite or Finite Incantatem.” The class groaned, and a couple of them even slapped themselves on the forehead.
“That’s sort of stupid, though, isn’t it?” called out Brian.
Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why do you say that?”
“Because Finite and Finite Incantatem only work for removing simple jinxes and hexes. We’re supposed to be learning how to defend ourselves against Dark wizards, and they’re not going to bother with anything that basic.”
“What do you think, class?” Harry asked. “Do you agree with Mr. Potter here?” There was a general murmur of agreement. “Would it make any difference if I told you I personally saw a Death Eater use Tarantallegra on a friend of mine? Neither of us was thinking clearly enough to remove the jinx, and my friend’s insane dancing effectively removed him from the battle.
“This is an important point to make, and I’m glad it was brought up. You should never let a spell’s simplicity make you think it isn’t useful in a fight. You wouldn’t normally think a mountain troll could be defeated by a simple Levitation Charm, but my friend, Ron, knocked out a twelve-foot troll in our first year by Levitating its club and then dropping it on its owner’s head.
“Of course, no matter how many counter-curses you know, it won’t help you against really Dark magic. If somebody’s casting an Unforgivable Curse at you, no Shield Charm is going to stand a chance. Your best defense against those is a nice, solid barrier to duck behind or quick reflexes for diving out of the way. Now, who can tell me about the Unforgivable Curses?”
The rest of the class was spent in a discussion about the Unforgivables (although Harry did not demonstrate them as the fake Professor Moody had in his fourth year), and Harry assigned a seven-inch essay on the use of counter-curses. After he dismissed the class, he sank into the chair behind his desk. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, and he was completely exhausted. He conjured a glass of water and drank it greedily, enjoying the way the cool water soothed his throat, which was already beginning to feel raw after talking for over an hour straight.
When he met Ginny in the Great Hall for dinner that evening, Harry was surprised he could even keep his eyes open. School had been exhausting as a student, but he had never imagined how much it could take out of the professors as well - and he hadn’t even had to grade any assignments yet. As he sank into his chair at the staff table, Ginny smiled at him.
“Long day?” she asked brightly.
Harry grunted in reply.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “You’ll get used to it after a while. I was dead on my feet for the first two months of teaching, but after that I finally started getting the hang of things.”
“I just never realized how stupid teenagers can be,” Harry said with a tired laugh. “I mean, they all seem to think I’m some sort of superhero, and yet they question almost everything I tell them.”
“How was your first time teaching Lily and Brian?”
“Not bad, I guess. Lily was helpful - I got her to say ‘Lord Voldemort’ for me. And Brian at least wasn’t openly hostile, although I think he gave a wrong answer just to get on my nerves.”
“What wrong answer was it?” Ginny asked.
“He tried to tell me Reducto was a counter-curse,” Harry replied.
Ginny snorted. “Well, I certainly hope he really knows better than that, or he’ll never pass his O.W.L.” Her eyes suddenly widened in shock, and she covered her mouth with her hands.
“What is it?” Harry asked through a mouthful of potatoes.
“I sounded eerily like my mother,” Ginny whispered. “I swore I’d never make a huge deal out of O.W.L.s, and look at me. I’m going to be just as hard on them as Mum was on us.”
“No you’re not,” Harry said, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “We both know you’re much easier going than your mother.” Ginny smiled gratefully at him, and they chatted about students and classes for the rest of dinner.
As they stood to leave, Ginny asked, “Ready to practice some dueling?”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” said Harry. “I mean, if I don’t practice, I’ll end up looking like an idiot in front of my students. Well, like more of an idiot than I do already. And don’t you dare make any comments about that.”
Ginny just laughed and they made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. After clearing the desks out of the way, they stood facing each other in the middle of the room.
“Okay, now put your wand away,” Ginny instructed.
“Why?” Harry asked.
“Because you need to remember how to react when you’re threatened. Being able to duel won’t do you any good if you waste time reaching for your gun instead of your wand.” They both stowed their wands, and Ginny said, “On the count of three. One... two... three!” In an instant, her wand was in her hand and she was yelling, “Rictusempra!”
The Tickling Charm found its mark and Harry doubled over laughing, his right hand at his hip where a holster would have been a few months prior. Ginny removed the charm immediately.
“You really do need a lot of work,” she sighed dejectedly.
“You didn’t think I was serious?” Harry asked.
“Well...” Ginny paused and looked embarrassed. Finally she said, “I guess I was sort of hoping you were only pretending to need help to have an excuse to spend time with me.”
“Ginny-” Now Harry was exasperated. “Look, I know we’re married and everything, but I’m really having trouble thinking of you in that way. The part of me that knows you as you are today thinks of you as a relatively new acquaintance and friend, and the part of me that thinks of you as my wife insists that you should be an eighteen-year-old girl, not a thirty-three-year-old mother of two. It’s confusing.”
“Oh, so this is about my age now?” Ginny demanded.
“Actually... yeah, I guess it sort of is.” Harry saw the murderous expression on his wife’s face and quickly began backpedaling. “Wait! I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Really? Just how did you mean it, then?” she growled.
“I- Er- That is- Listen.” He took a deep breath. “What I meant was that I still can’t wrap my head around who you are. Half of me refuses to really accept that we’re married, and the other half refuses to accept that you’re really the girl I married. I know it’s stupid - especially since you barely look any older than when we got married anyway - but that doesn’t mean I can just snap my fingers and change it.”
“You’re sure this isn’t about my age or my looks, then?”
“Could you possibly put your wand away while we have this conversation? You’re making me nervous.”
Ginny growled in frustration. “I knew it! You think I’m too old for you now, don’t you? You want to just escape and run off to some eighteen-year-old-”
“No! Ginny, I’m serious; put the wand away.” Still muttering under her breath, she did as he asked. “I promise this has nothing to do with your age or your looks. Trust me; your looks are not an issue.”
She smiled slightly at him. “If you still like my looks, then why not take the rest of me too?” she asked slyly.
Harry sighed. Although her tone had been playful, he knew that she was being serious. “You know that’s not how things work with me. In fact, I don’t think you would’ve wanted me in the first place if I was the type of bloke who ‘takes the rest of’ a girl - er, woman - just because I find her attractive.” He shook his head. “This conversation’s going nowhere. Let’s just practice some dueling and get to bed.”
They practiced for the next hour, although Harry spent most of that time either rolling on the ground laughing or doing a crazy tap-dance. Thankfully, Ginny was using thoroughly non-harmful spells. It wasn’t until they were almost ready to go that Harry finally managed to draw his wand quickly enough to block Ginny’s Tickling Charm. When he succeeded, he was so surprised that he completely forgot to block her next spell, and he ended up doing another tap-dance.
“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Ginny said at last.
Harry, who was almost too tired to speak, merely nodded and followed her back to their quarters. As they parted ways for the night, he could have sworn he heard her mutter something under her breath about middle-aged men and their desire to be with barely-of-legal-age girls.