The final battle has been won, but was it worth the cost? Harry, alone and determined, sets out to rewrite history for a better world.
All The Good Things
- "Have you seen the new Professor?"
- "He's so hot!"
- "I wish I hadn't given up Divination in fifth year."
- "Looks a bit scary to me. I wonder what he's like..."
- "But he's so hot!"
Harry felt like he was in first year again. Only worse this time around because now he would be expected to teach his fellow students. And Divination of all things! He was going to make a complete fool of himself, staring stupidly at tealeaves and crystal balls.
It was far too soon for Harry to loose all self respect yet again.
Why was his life so humiliating?
Harry paced his newly-improved classroom, having gone to breakfast early in hopes to beat the students. That hope however, had been in vain.
A third year class he might have managed too, but first period Monday morning was none other than the combined seventh years, seven Gryffindors' included.
What the hell was he going to teach them? Harry flicked mindlessly through the hundreds of useless chapters in 'Unfogging the Future'. The whole book was complete bullshit and his earlier plans of staying to the curriculum now seemed inadequate, somehow. It simply wasn't enough, it wasn't fair - he wanted to give back more than that.
At that thought a new resolve passed over him. He could not teach anyone this utterly useless shit. In a matter of months these seventh years would be leaving Hogwarts and the knowledge they'd learned there could well prove to be the difference between life or death. Harry knew this all too well.
He didn't want to be their hero, but he might give them the minds to become their own.
How could Harry make Divination of an important quantity? What could he teach the students, somehow hooking it to the genre, that could even possibly help them through the tough times ahead?
Especially if he was stuck, as he'd thought the day before, with a bunch of thoughtless dunderheads.
That's when it hit him.
Who else called their students dunderheads?
Snape of course, who taught potions. But he'd also taught Harry something else.
Something very important, that after he had finally given in and learned it, had helped him a great deal.
In less of a sophisticated phrasing, Harry smirked, defence in mind reading.
And mind reading could almost definitely be put in the category of Divination.
Harry snapped 'Unfogging the Future' shut, a sly smile on his lips. He could probably stretch Occlumency and Legilimency out for the whole year and the earlier grades, third through to six, wouldn't be nearly as hard to teach as his fellow pupils. He was sure he could lie and fabricate his way through, using the previous guidelines he'd learnt the subject by.
Time ticked away all to quickly before Harry heard the first footsteps ascend into the room from the spiral staircase. It gave him great pleasure to see Lavender and Parati's horrified faces as they saw how he'd changed their favourite classroom.
Once dark, dingy and cluttered, the room was now bright, fresh and organised.
The windows were open, and the heavy stink of incense would eventually leave, Harry hoped. There was a large blackboard where the shelves once were, the teacups, cards and crystals moved neatly into cabinets underneath the tables.
The circular tables were now square, assembled facing the board somewhat like a muggle classroom, seating two to three students as they had before. The chintz armchairs Harry didn't have the heart to take away or change. At least they were comfortable, he reasoned, and although Harry wouldn't admit it to himself he was quite fond of them. They held so many dear memories of himself and Ron, the three years they'd spent in that room together, happy and cynical...
One by one the students trickled into the room and Harry's heart pounded faster in his chest as each familiar face greeted his own with looks of half raised eyebrows and surely smiles.
They thought he was a joke. A good-looking joke, but a joke all the same.
And why wouldn't they? He was teaching Divination after all, and that post had always been held in low regard. The simple idea of unfogging the future was in the majority laughed upon by the magical community. It was one of the more unreliable branches of magic to say the least.
Then Ronald Weasley stumbled in with the blond Harry Potter in tow, and Harry felt his heart leap into his throat.
He wasn't ready for this.
For seeing these people again, who had all so bravely given their lives for the greater cause.
For the Boy-Who-lived to stay living.
For Lord Voldemort's ultimate downfall, who couldn't see the drive or importance of love.
Love and friendship, forever underestimated.
Harry realised he must have been gawking at the redhead, who was beginning to look quite scared at the attention of the Professor. Harry turned away from the students, staring out the window instead.
Dripping. Pulsing. Dangling...
A body. Ron's.
It was too late. It was his fault...
Red. Eyes? Voldemort?
It was all red. Everything was red.
He had never seen so much blood.
It was his fault.
All. His. Fault.
Harry took a deep breath, desperate to end the burning sensation on his cheeks and the water settling in his eyes.
That was all in the past.
Time to move on...
But how on earth was he to begin?
The students were now chattering amongst themselves, bored of waiting for him to make a start. He supposed they were all present by now.
"Classes are usually began by calling the roll, Professor."
The contemptuous look on Lavender Brown's face was enough to pull anyone out of the most horrid thoughts. Now was not the time. Later, perhaps. Maybe.
Harry raised an eyebrow at her, with what he hoped to be a ridiculing smug expression. "No need to fret, Miss Brown. I've already marked it."
He hadn't, as of yet, but knew everyone who was there and could easily do it after class.
That he had known Lavenders' name and supposedly all those of his students caught their attention quick. That he had marked it before anyone had even arrived for class was a cheap Trelawneyish trick, but it had worked, so what the hell.
"I'm Professor Evans, your Divination teacher for the rest of the year," it came out somewhat rushed and Draco Malfoy didn't bother to turn his snigger into a cough.
Harry had to make an impression, or none of them would ever give him the due respect.
"Who here believes," Harry gave Malfoy, sitting next to Goyle, his best and most dismissive glare. "That they have, and can give an example, of a time when they have shown the power of Divination?"
Harry had half expected Lavender or Parvati to stick their hand in the air, but thankfully both remained as quiet as everyone else.
"I honestly think that this late in your education, gazing into a crystal ball is a waste of both mine and your own time."
It seemed the class didn't know what to make of this, although a few eyebrows were again held high.
Harry leant against the window frame behind him, gazing at the wondering faces of his students. So many memories, good and bad, mingled temptingly before him. "I'm not going to try and fool you into thinking that when you leave Hogwarts life will be easy. You know this, or at least you should. There is a war going on and in a little less than six months you will be thrust into the centre of it.
"Picking a side or remaining neutral is your own decision. But I want to help you. And I've been racking my brain out the last few days trying to think of a way to do that." Harry paused, ignoring the lie, and thought back on his train of thought before the students had arrived.
"Who here can tell me what Legilimency is?"
The class remained as quiet as ever, unnerving Harry to no end. His eyes fell on Neville, a frown across his round face, sitting unobtrusively between Dean and Seamus. Harry's heart thudded harder.
If he ignored his past and got on with this new life, he could be normal. Normal, like he'd only ever dreamed of being. But when it came down to it, did Harry have the guts? And was it guts, or was it selfishness? He could tutor Neville... tell him all he needed to know... hell, Harry could finish it all himself, do what he had to do - what he knew he was capable of doing... but then, he wouldn't be considered 'normal', would he? He'd be their hero again, and as lonely as ever...
And maybe there weren't Horcruxes in this world anyway... maybe everything he knew didn't apply here...
"It's where you... er...," Neville looked helplessly around at his classmates, Draco wearing a look of utmost happiness. The Slytherin loved making fun of Longbottom, the one who was meant to save the world and who so obviously stood little chance of triumph.
"Go on," Harry smiled, what he thought to be in an encouraging way, but only seemed to terrify Neville further.
"Is it like, taking feelings and memories from another persons mind, Professor?"
"Very good," Harry flicked his wand at the blackboard, where a piece of chalk began writing in spidery letters a text, of which the students dutifully began copying. "Five points to Gryffindor.
"Or in more blatant terms, you could have said 'mind reading'," Harry grinned - what would Snivellus think of his terminology! "I don't doubt that few of you will be any good at it, but I do hold the opinion that practicing something which is useful, no matter how competent you may be, will be a more constructive way to spend your time whilst in this classroom than interpreting dreams or drinking tea."
Harry's smile widened at the few who dared to laugh.
"Of course, Legilimency can only be counteracted with Occlumency, and so you will be acquired to learn both. Does everyone understand?"
A general nod swung around the class, the scratching of quills on parchment finishing.
"So, to begin with I'd like you all to get into pairs," Harry couldn't help feeling reminiscent as the blond Harry Potter glared maliciously at Draco Malfoy. How he'd love to view the Slytherin's most embarrassing experiences... "Preferably with someone you trust," Harry added. "So pair up wisely. Everyone has memories they'd prefer not to share."
... ... ... ...
I have searched high and low for any records or reports concerning a Hadi Evans. He simply just does not exist. There is no such person ever born in Europe. I also took the liberty of checking every witch and wizard to attend a magical school in Italy and all have been accounted for.
Awaiting your order,
... ... ... ...
Remus Lupin treasured consistency. He liked to know where he would be tomorrow, today. Organisation and planning were necessities. He believed himself to be a good judge of character, and was seldom proven wrong. His friend Sirius Black often called Remus boring, stating he was far too lacking in spontaneous and risky qualities. But Remus knew better.
There is a thin line between bravery and foolery. Boring is safe. Being ordinary, of which Remus could only ever crave to be, is safe. Life is better than death. The world is not only black and white. The werewolf was always the cautious one.
Remus did not like surprises.
And Hadi Evans seemed to be full of them.
The students had been no more rowdy than usual at lunch time, it was only to be expected on the first day of a new year and term. There was news to be told and gossip to spread. Nothing to be suspicious of.
But as Remus neared the door to his classroom of seventh year Gryffindors' that afternoon, the loud chatter seemed somehow not to be quite right. He paused, his hand resting on the doorknob, his hearing easily picking up the conversations inside.
- "Now I really wish I hadn't given up Divination in fifth year."
- "Is Legilimency even legal?"
- "I reckon I've mastered it already."
- "Who cares! I can't wait to know what goes on in Snape's head."
- "Oh really, what am I thinking then?"
- "Yeah, I bet he knows Occlumency though."
- "Contemplating suicide. I would if I were you anyway."
- "Saving up for some de-frizz hair care product. You should, you know..."
- "Shut up Potter!"
- "Your building up the courage to ask Evans on a date."
- "Oh come on, he's a Professor!"
- "He's so hot though, don't you think?"
Remus cracked the door open, ending the argument on that particularly dangerous subject. But he was intrigued. Legilimency? Occlumency? How on earth could students be learning that! Neither came easily and both were considered to be of the darker shade of magic, never before taught at Hogwarts.
What exactly did Hadi Evans have in mind for his seventh years?
Certainly the skill could be useful, but the Divination class did not contain the most trustworthy students. One small mistake, like teaching a Malfoy Legilimency, could easily prove to be the Lights destruction.
Remus slapped his old briefcase onto his desk. Hadi Evans was not to be dismissed so easily, and his previous thoughts on the character now seemed so very wrong.
Yes, Remus smiled at the class, the Divination Professor definitely needed further investigation.
The first day of each New Year brings with it many resolutions, fresh beginnings and decisions.
For Harry Potter, his third day in a new world, it brought great relief, optimism and one small step forward. But the past cannot be easily forgotten, and pushing problems aside does not make them disappear.
For the son of two loving parents, a fair haired Harry could not sleep; his dreams plagued with the haunting figure outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, bright emerald eyes forever watching.
For Neville Longbottom, burdened as no other could be, stared hard at a photograph of another's girlfriend; bushy hair and buck teeth grinning back. Unrequited love was harsh. But he would fight to the end.
For Draco Malfoy, sitting alone in the Slytherin common room, the dreaded future weighed heavy in his heart and mind. His hands shook, his breath hitched and his heart pounded far too fast. His time was running out. He had to choose.
And for Remus Lupin, as he retired for that night and many to come, giving in to the trickle of suspicion that would fill his mind of little else. He had to solve the growing puzzle that was Hadi Evans.
But most resolutions are broken, fresh beginnings will always be shadowed by the past and rash decisions will turn out for the worst.
There will never be peace.
All good things must come to an end.