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Severus Snape settled down into his favorite arm chair in the small den of his private dungeon quarters at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and let a long heavy sigh escape from his chest. He felt exhausted, which was pretty standard fair these days, however he never allowed his state to show when in public. In the privacy of his own room was the only place he felt he could let down some of his guard and breath freely.

There was just over a month until the end of first term, but the increased workload that inevitably piled up as the end-of-term exams drew near was only a small part of the cause for his exhaustion. The Order was meeting fairly regularly now, not to mention the other meetings he was occasionally called to. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on certain angles, he hadn't been called to one of those in about two weeks.

It was fortunate because Severus was never one to actually want to spend any time in the Dark Lord's presence, nor any of his other followers, if he were being truly frank. It was always a tremendous gamble. He never knew if this time would be the last time. If the Dark Lord would finally uncover some reason to stop trusting in Snape, or finally decide he wasn't useful enough to warrant the security risk he provided.

It was unfortunate that he hadn't been summoned, only because it left the Order more and more in the Dark. Severus knew that Voldemort did not tell him all of his plans – hell, he probably hardly told Severus anything of true value – but what little information he did gleam from the meetings he was summoned to, was precious to the Order. And right now the Order was in turmoil.

The Ministry was still stringently disavowing the Dark Lord's return, with Fudge doing everything in his power to hinder any reasonable efforts towards practical security, for the sake of appearing unconcerned and 'safe' in the eyes of the public. The Order had members on shifts, hiding under Invisibility Cloaks, to guard the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, and they'd already had several close-calls with getting caught my Ministry personnel.

But that wasn't really what had the Order in such a tizzy. No, they were panicked because one Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived-to-make-Severus'-life-a-living-hell, had gone missing.

It had been three weeks now and there was still no sign of him at all. The day before Potter had vanished, he had apparently had some sort of fit in the middle of class, passed out, and ended up in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the night with no apparent signs or explanations for what the hell was wrong with him. Umbridge had suggested moving the boy to St. Mungo's in that sickly sweet tone of hers, and he, Dumbledore, and McGonagall had all shared a look at that. It was clear that no matter what, allowing Potter out from their direct care put the boy's life in peril, and not just from the Dark Lord. After all, there were some serious concerns over whether it was the Dark Lord who had sent those Dementors to Little Winging, or if it had been someone in Fudge's office. Most likely the very pink toad they were all faced with now; in fact.

And so they had been dedicated to keeping a tight watch on the irritating brat to ensure the woman wouldn't take advantage of his vulnerable state.

That had apparently not worked all that well, because the boy had up and vanished completely. No one knew where he'd gone or how he'd left. Potter's two friends didn't even seem to have the faintest clue where he'd gone, and Severus had performed a subtle scan of both of their minds to see if they were lying and... well, they apparently weren't. Weasley had come out and said after a brief search of Potter's trunk he'd found some things missing. Potter's money bag, his blasted invisibility cloak, and his broom were all missing, which seemed to suggest that he'd left of his own free will.

It didn't stop them from casting worried and suspicious glances at the vile toad woman. She seemed supremely smug that Potter had up and vanished and had made statements to the press furthering the earlier claims that Potter was unstable and attention-seeking, et cetera, et cetera.

As far as Severus could tell, the Dark Lord knew just as little as they did. He certainly didn't seem to have Potter, and had been furious with Severus the last time he'd been summoned, for still not being able to report back with any useful information on the boy's location. Severus did not look forward to the next time he was summoned because, no doubt, the Dark Lord's wrath would only be that much greater at the continued lack of progress.

The Dark Lord wanted the Prophecy, and he had determined the best way to get it would be to lure Potter into the Department of Mysteries to get it for him. But he could hardly do that if Potter was missing.

These were the thoughts lazily floating through Severus' rather worn and tired mind when all thoughts were suddenly replaced by the sharp pain stabbing through his left forearm. His right hand shot over and grabbed it on reflex and he grimaced sharply at the knowledge of what it meant.

He was being summoned.

He jumped to his feet, knowing he had very little time, for the Dark Lord would not be made to wait. He ran to the Floo, tossed in some powder from the tin on the mantle and called out 'Headmaster's Office'. As the fire turned green, he got down on his knees and leaned his head in. There was the brief disorientation where the world felt like it was spinning, before his head emerged on the other end.

“Albus!” he hissed urgently.

The elder wizard was, fortunately, sitting at his desk and quickly rushed over.

“What is it Severus?”

“I've been summoned. I must leave.”

Concern instantly flooded the headmaster's expression, but he nodded his head firmly. “Go, and be safe.”

Severus felt like rolling his eyes, but refrained. He pulled his head back out from the flames and then rushed into his bedroom to fetch his cloak and mask. After donning his garments and mask he returned to the floo, tossed in a handful of the floo powder and called out 'Spinner's End'. He'd determined long ago that the journey from the school dungeons to the front gate and edge of the apparition wards was far too time-consuming and that this was simply a much faster option. Once in his unfortunate family abode, he pressed his wand to the Dark Mark upon his left forearm and allowed the bit of magic inside it that acted a bit like a portkey, or perhaps more like a homing target for apparition, and apparated directly into the hall that presently held the Dark Lord.

In a smooth, well-practiced and graceful motion, he was instantly down on one knee with head bowed in submission to the monster he had been foolish enough in his youth to swear allegiance to.

“Stand, Severussss,” the Dark Lord Voldemort hissed imperiously from his graceful perch in a high-backed chair slightly atop a dais at the end of the long meeting hall. Severus didn't exactly like the fact that he was the only one summoned. It was hardly a rare thing – after all, the Dark Lord preferred to keep the information his spies provided him between himself and the spy in question, rather than share it with any large groups, but Severus still preferred it when others were present since it gave the Dark Lord additional targets to get out his displeasure on. When it was just him and the Dark Lord, he was the only available target for the madman's curses.

“My Lord,” Severus intoned silkily as he fluidly stood, but kept his head mostly bowed in submission.

“What news is there of Potter?” Voldemort asked sharply, cutting straight to the point, which was rarely a good sign.

Severus raised his head, keeping his face impassive, masking the horrible nerves swirling like a hurricane through his gut, and met the Dark Lord's penetrating and obviously impatient gaze. Avoiding eye-contact was a wasted effort and it only led the Dark Lord to suspect you of treachery, so Severus never bothered.

“My Lord, I am afraid that –“ Severus began, but before he got another word further the door behind him flew open and Severus instinctively turned to look. It was merely an instinct of self-preservation – he did not approve of unexpected things occurring behind his back, after all.

What he saw emerging through the door made his jaw drop and his eyes widen in shock.

“What's this now? Looking for me?” Harry Potter asked, grinning wolfishly and twirling his wand in one hand.

“Potter?!” Severus gasped. A sound behind him had him whirling back around and he saw as an equally stunned Dark Lord was standing to his feet, his eyes alight with a mixture of fury and surprise.

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort spoke, emphasizing each syllable and slowly stalking forward, an expression of growing interest spreading across his serpentine features. “What a... surprise. How did you get in here?” he ended, his voice going harsh and accusing.

Snape took several steps back towards the side wall so that he would no longer be directly between the two. No doubt the Dark Lord would not give a damn if Severus was there, when he started throwing curses.

Potter smirked and continued twirling his wand playfully between his fingers as he slowly walked further into the room.

“I walked through the front door,” he said cheekily.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. “Is that so? And what of the guards?”

“Hmm? Guards? There were guards?” Potter replied innocently with a look that Severus decided to deem 'mischief' in the boy's eyes. If ever there was a time when 'mischief' was inappropriate, now was that time. He felt himself so stunned by the inexplicably unpredictable events transpiring before him, that he merely stood there, rooted to the ground like a statue. What the hell was Potter doing there?!?

“Yes, Potter, I'm quite sure that there were several guards out there,” glaring accusingly. “Which one of them let you in here?”

Potter laughed, quite loudly, before quieting and simply smirking at the Dark Lord again.

Stupid arrogant child! Severus screamed mentally,

“There's no one left out there to come to you, Tom,” Potter said as he began to casually circle the room.

“Insolent brat! You dare?!” Voldemort hissed and his wand was instantly pointed at Potter, a shot of red light shooting from it, right for Potter. Severus' gaze darted to Potter, waiting for the inevitable, but was shocked when Potter's absently twirling wand was whipped through the air and it almost looked like Potter just swatted away the red spell as it came to him, and sent it off in a different direction until it impacted a wall and died away.

Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise at the casual way in which Potter had just deflected one of the unforgivables as if it were little more than a tickling jinx. Voldemort pinned Potter with a far more scrutinizing glare now and watched as Potter continued to stroll around the room like he owned the place.

“Tell me, Potter... where have you been these last three weeks? I know there are those among Dumbledore's crowd who have been convinced I had you, but obviously I know that hasn't been the case...”

The boy actually had the gall to giggle before coming to a stop and looking across the large room at the Dark Lord with a gleam of dark accomplishment. It was not an expression that Severus honestly could say he'd ever seen grace the boy's face.

“Oh, I've been all over,” Potter said, smirking darkly. “First... before leaving the school, you understand, I paid a visit to this fascinating room in Hogwarts. I know you're familiar with it. The elves call it the Come and Go room. A room filled with... hidden things.”

Severus was almost shocked to see a glint of fear seem to pass across the Dark Lord's face. He looked back to Potter and the boy was still grinning, almost manically.

“After that, I went back to Little Hangleton – although, I didn't visit the graveyard this time. Just a rundown little shack on the outskirts of town,” Potter went on and resumed his casual stroll around the room as he spoke. “I also visited Gringotts and made a... a withdrawal,” Potter said, snickering. “The goblins didn't even notice. I have to admit, I had expected that one to be harder to get than it was. I was almost disappointed. I think some part of me was almost looking forward to an encounter with one of the dragons. Oh well,” he ended with a dismissive shrug.

The Dark Lord was looking almost frozen with fear at this point and Severus had no idea what was going on and almost wanted to just go over and strangle the boy for being so damned confusing, not to mention idiotic.

“I also got the locket – were you aware that it wasn't where you left it? It wasn't even in the cave anymore, so I didn't even have to contend with the infiri. Regulus Black betrayed you years ago and stole it. He left the task of destroying the locket to his house elf, and the poor wretched creature had no idea how to do it, so it remained in tact. Or... well, it did until I dealt with it.”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”Voldemort bellowed and in an instant curses were flying through the air. Potter bent, twisted, and deflected every one of them with the most unexpected and shocking display of power and agility Severus had witnessed in years, if ever, and he found himself pressed back against the far wall, just staying out of the line of fire.

Part of him thought he should be helping the idiot-who-was-lucky-to-still-be-alive, but another voice insisted on self-preservation until the most beneficial moment where he could intervene and actually do some good.

Severus hadn't even realized that Potter wasn't sending any spells back until the moment when Potter finally did attack. He aimed his wand after deflecting a particularly nasty purple curse like he was swatting a fly, and without saying a single word, sent what could only be described as a shock-wave of raw power, from the tip of his wand, sending the Dark Lord flying back and landing spread-eagle on his back.

Potter laughed.

“Tell me something, Tom,” Potter continued, still snickering as the Dark Lord pushed himself up on his elbows, looking at Potter as if he were watching a star about to go supernova. “Where is Nagini?”

The Dark Lord gasped, and his gaze suddenly darted around the room, as if he were expecting the snake to suddenly materialize out of no where.

Severus flinched as the Dark Lord suddenly called out in the hissing tones of parseltongue, but was shocked by how different it sounded than the usual silky smooth, threatening and deadly hisses, he generally associated with the snake speech. This speech sounded... terrified.

“She won't be coming, Tom,” Potter said, mockingly. “She's dead.”

Fear moved into horror, into fury, and the Dark Lord leapt to his feet, once again firing curses. Potter danced and hopped around the room, laughing like a loon and Severus just stood there and watched in utterly stunned silence.

“How does it feel Tom?” Potter asked mockingly as he continued to dodge the ever increasingly desperate spells sailing at him from the Dark Lord's wand. “How does it feel to know you're mortal, just like the rest of us? How does it feel to stand on the threshold of death's gate and know you can't turn back?”

Voldemort roared again, his fury seemingly endless.

“You can't kill me, Tom. Death favors me, and you angered him by trying to defy him. Death does not approve of horcruxes, Tom Riddle. He does not approve at all,” Potter said, making a reproving clucking sort of sound with his tongue, and looking ever-smug. Something the brat-who-lived said caused a momentary shock to jolt through Severus. The word horcrux hung in the air like a thick dark cloud and Severus knew... he knew what that meant. He had heard of such a thing, though he never thought he would ever encounter someone mad enough to actually make one. Obviously that was a naïve thought, considering how insanely mad the Dark Lord was. Still, Severus had never honestly believed...

“You're doomed you know,” Potter said then. “There is a world beyond this one, but you will never see it. You have too little of your soul left. When you leave this world, there is nothing for you beyond. You will shrivel up and become nothing more than memory and dust.”

“You are the one who will die, Harry Potter!” Voldemort screamed as he sent yet another bolt of sickly green light at Potter. But this time Potter didn't move. He just stood there, looking smug as the bolt crashed into his chest and... did nothing.

“I told you,” Potter said, softly into the silence that followed as the Dark Lord panted heavily and stared at him in dumbstruck shock. “Death favors me.”

Potter raised his wand, aimed it right at the Dark Lord Voldemort, who's eyes widened and filled with absolute fear and horror. “Goodbye, Tom. Avada Kedavra.” The same sickly green light from before, now emerged from the tip of Potter's wand and shot straight across the room, hitting Voldemort square in the chest and sending him flying backwards several feet before he crumpled to the ground. Dead.

The room was silent for several long seconds that, to Severus, felt like an eternity. Surely, he was dreaming, for what had just transpired was simply impossible. A flight of fancy. Perhaps he fell asleep in his armchair and it would wake in the morning with a crick in his neck and only a vague memory of having one of the strangest and most irrational dreams in recent memory.

But then Potter heaved out a big sound of relief and twisted his neck until it made a popping sort of sound.

“Ow,” the boy muttered. “Think I pulled something.”

Severus slowly turned his head and his eyes landed on Potter. He was still in a state of shock, but his mind registered as Potter began casting seemingly random spells. Lumos, Finite, Nox, Scourgify, Tergeo, and then he cast Deletrius, which made the random jumble before it make a slight bit more sense. Deletrius was a spell used to get around Prior Incantato, the spell used to identify the last few spells a wand had cast. Potter was covering his tracks after use of the unforgivable killing curse. Casting Deletrius by itself would normally be 'good enough' to prevent anyone from finding out the last few spells you'd cast, but if a person was dedicated enough, they could still find traces of the most recent spell or two. Potter, apparently and wisely, Severus had to admit, wasn't willing to take that risk.

“I don't suppose you have something obscenely convenient like an emergency portkey directly back to Dumbledore's office, do you?” Potter asked suddenly, causing Severus to flinch in surprise.

Severus nearly said 'what?' in response, but managed to pull himself together just in time to stop the moronic response. He blinked and centered himself as much as possible, considering what he had just witnessed.

“No, I'm afraid not,” he bit out, finally.

Potter grumbled slightly and began to walk across the room to the Dark Lord's corpse. Once he got there, he pulled a small draw-string pouch off his belt, pulled at the opening, expanding it a bit and then sticking his arm down into it so far the opening of the bag was at his armpit. The bag itself, obviously had an undetectable extension charm on it, because it was barely four inches deep; certainly not deep enough for the entirety of Potter's arm to fit inside it.

Potter finally withdrew his arm, but as far as Severus could tell, he had nothing in it. But then Potter draped the nothing over his arm and a sliver of his arm vanished. He re-secured the draw-string bag to his belt, unfurled the invisible-nothing and covered the Dark Lord's body, causing it to vanish.

“Your invisibility cloak,” Snape drawled with distinct disapproval in his voice.

“Well, we're going to have to apparate to the school's gate, right? Do you want to go walking along the path, and then through the halls, with Voldemort's corpse floating behind us?”

“You're taking him to the school?”

“To Dumbledore,” Potter said with a shrug. “I figure if anyone knows what to do with it, it'll be him. Honestly, I wouldn't mind just burning it to ash right here and now, but with only you and me as witness, I'm sure there are those that would like something a bit more tangible to prove that he's actually dead.”

“And is he?”

“Hmm?”

“Dead? Is he really dead this time?” Snape asked, a bit of desperation managing to leak into his tone.

Potter's expression softened a bit and it was odd and left Severus feeling disturbed. “Yeah. He's dead.”

“You mentioned a Horcrux...”

“They're gone. All of them.”

“All?” Severus whispered in horror. The Dark Lord had not only made a horcrux, but had made more than one?!

Suddenly another thought pushed that horror aside and Severus needed to comment.

“He shot you with a killing curse,” Severus said in an almost accusing tone.

Potter actually chuckled. “You don't say?” he commented airily as he aimed his wand at the invisible Dark Lord and cast mobilicorpus on him. Severus noticed as a sliver of a hand poked through from under the cloak, becoming visible. Potter didn't seem to care.

“Why aren't you dead?” Severus asked, pointedly.

Potter just looked at him and smirked.

“The anti-apparition wards are down,” he commented instead, “they fell as soon as he died, so we can apparate straight from here.”

“Are you saying that you can apparate?”

“Yeah, of course,” Potter said, giving him a blank look.

“And when, exactly, did you learn how to do that?”

Potter smirked. “When did I learn how to cast the killing curse?” he shot back, instead of answering Severus' question. It caused the Potions Master to pause and blink, somewhat thrown by the reality of what the boy had just pointed out. He had just cast – successfully cast – the most deadly dark curse there was. A spell that few could ever perform successfully, and most certainly never on their first try. Most who tried to cast it were lucky to cause a nose bleed in the victim. It was one of the reasons that the Dark Lord had been so feared. He could cast that spell as if it were no more difficult than shooting sparks from ones wand.

Snape shook himself from his shock as Potter began to walk with the floating corpse behind him, towards the center of the room.

“Wait,” Severus called out and Potter stopped and looked at him with uncommonly patient curiosity in his eyes. It nearly made Severus flinch. It also made him realize that Potter wasn't wearing his glasses. Those green eyes that had taunted him for more than four years, were now looking at him with simple curious anticipation. Not even the slightest hint of the hateful, distrustful, glower the boy usually aimed at him was present.

“I have a better option,” Severus said, pushing forward and looking away from Lily's green eyes. “We will apparate to my home and from there we can Floo to Hogwarts. My floo there is connected directly to my own and the headmaster's office. It's best we avoid any possible encounter with Umbridge and she tends to patrol the halls this time of night.”

Potter nodded. “Good idea. Can you side-along me and the body at once? Or do you need to take two trips?”

“I can take you in one,” Severus said, hating the idea that he was going to have to touch the Dark Lord's corpse to do this. He was no stranger to dead things, but somehow the thought of coming into direct contact with that was legitimately disgusting.

Potter didn't seem to be nearly so squeamish in that regard, although Severus would not admit such a thing, even to himself. Potter pulled the invisibility cloak up slightly and grabbed hold of the robe-covered upper-arm that he exposed to their field of view. He appeared to have a tight old over it and offered his other hand to Severus. “I've got him. Lead the way,” Potter said.

Severus would also not admit how grateful he was that he wasn't going to be touching Voldemort after all.

He grasped Potter's hand and apparated them back to his run-down childhood home.

Potter looked around briefly as Severus quickly released his hand and went over to activate and unlock the floo.

“Is this your home on Spinner's End in Cokeworth?” Potter asked casually. Severus spun around and looked at him with shock and confusion.

“How do you know that?” he whispered.

Potter didn't answer him, but instead asked, “So how far away was my mum's home from here?”

Severus' mouth floundered for a moment before he looked away at the fireplace instead. “There is a park down the road. Four blocks west of that is where she lived.”

Potter nodded absently and walked over to the fireplace, the floated and mostly invisible corpse levitating behind him.

“Do you want to go first? Does he have a password we need to use to get into his office from here?”

“The password is ignis avis,” Severus said.

Potter grinned. “Firebird? Appropriate. Okay, so you first, or shall I?”

“Can you floo with... with that?”

“Yeah sure,” Potter said, dismissively. “I've taken bodies through Floo's before,” he said snorting sardonically.

Severus eyed him curiously for a moment before hesitantly turning to the floo and tossing in a handful of powder. “Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School, ignis avis!” he spoke loudly as he stepped into the green flames.

Harry waited a few moments after Severus had vanished before stepping in, grabbing the corpse and wrapping his arm around the upper-body tightly. He tossed the powder into the magical flames and repeated the same words Severus had spoken only a moment before.

He stepped out of Dumbledore's large fireplace with a quick, smooth action and let the corpse begin to simply float behind him again. He turned and saw Dumbledore standing up slowing, looking stunned.

“Harry?” he asked, sounding both surprised and immensely relieved.

“Headmaster,” Harry replied with a firm nod of his head before striding forward and coming to stand in front of Dumbledore's desk. Severus followed, keeping his eyes trained suspiciously on Harry as he went. He stood to the side of the headmaster's desk, while Dumbledore himself remained standing behind it.

“Where... where have you been?” Dumbledore asked in a breathy, still-stunned voice.

“Oh, here and there,” Harry said dismissively. “Hunting horcruxes, mostly. I destroyed them all, by the way. This one too,” he said, dipping his chin, reaching up, and tapping his finger on his forehead, directly over the lightening bolt shaped scar.

Dumbledore gasped and his eyes widened.

“I removed it first, actually,” Harry went on, still speaking with a casualness that belied the utterly astonished expression gracing the venerable old wizard's face. “I must admit, I wonder if you ever even tried to find a way to get rid of it without... well, you know, me having to die. It really wasn't that hard. In any case, once I figured out how to get rid of this one, without the requites destruction of the host, I was able to rid the other vessels of their various bits of Tom's soul without them having to be destroyed either.” At this, Harry reached down, pulled the draw-string pouch off his belt again, opened it up and began digging around inside it.

First he pulled out a jewel encrusted tiara of some sort.

“Ravenclaw's lost diadem,” Harry said in a bored tone as he tossed it onto Dumbledore's desk. “A cup that was enchanted by Helga Hufflepuff,” he continued as he pulled out a golden cup with two finely wrought handles on either side and a badger engraved on it. “A locket that belonged to Slytherin,” Harry continued, this time pulling out a silver locket with emeralds set into it's front in the shape of an 'S' and let it fall to the desk with the other two. “Those were the only founders objects he managed to get and use. I figured I'd hand them over to the school since they're historical artifacts.”

“H-how...” Dumbledore's voice was hoarse and he was staring at the artifacts in shock for a moment before looked back up at Harry.

“Of course, those weren't the only ones, as I'm sure you've already guessed by now,” Harry resumed. “One of the other horcruxes was his familiar, Nagini. I cut her head off this morning. Then, of course, there was me, but as I said, I took care of that one first –“

“Wait, what?!” Severus said, finally catching on and pulling himself out of his own stunned stupor enough to finally say something.

“I was a horcrux,” Harry said with a dismissive, bored drawl. “It happened when he tried to kill me as a baby. A piece of his soul broke off and got in me. It's why I was a parselmouth and why I would get visions from him. Anyway, his goal was to have his soul split into seven pieces. The first horcrux was a diary and I destroyed that in second year. He never intended for me to be one, and never knew about it either, so the bit that was in me doesn't count. The final horcrux was this one,” he flashed his hand, very briefly and Severus noticed he was wearing a ring on his right hand middle-finger. “But I'm keeping it,” Potter finished, pulling his hand back before either could really look at it.

“I... I... Harry – how... I just don't understand –“ Dumbledore said, and Severus took a moment to soak up and enjoy this entirely rare opportunity to witness Dumbledore being legitimately shocked and at a loss for words.

“Oh, yes, there was one other thing I did –“ Potter said, smirking rather deviously now. He reached over into the apparent nothingness beside him and pulled the cloak off the still-floating corpse of the Dark Lord. “That. I did that too.”

Dumbledore gaped at the body of Voldemort. “Is that...?”

“It is,” Severus said in a silky drawl. “I witnessed it myself.”

Dumbledore turned his gaze on Severus, still stunned, but now also questioning.

“I had just arrived to stand before the Dark Lord and had just begun to speak with him when... Potter suddenly barged into the room. The Dark Lord was clearly surprised and the two of them...” he paused and sneered in mild disgust, “bantered back and forth for a bit. Potter appeared to be taunting the Dark Lord by mentioning... these objects, I would assume.”

Harry smirked and nodded.

“The Dark Lord became furious and began attempting to curse Potter. I still cannot rationalize how the idiotic brat survived.”

“Hey, I'm right here, you know,” Harry complained, although he honestly looked more amused than legitimately annoyed.

“He's dead...” Dumbledore whispered, turning and looking back at the body. “How...?”

“Potter cast the killing curse,” Snape growled mildly.

Dumbledore's eyes shot to Harry, wide and looking slightly horrified. “Harry, is this true?” he whispered.

Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

“That is not all,” Snape said, drawing the headmaster's attention back to him. “Before that, the Dark Lord cast a killing curse at Potter and he didn't dodge. It hit him square in the chest and he didn't so much as flinch.” Now Snape was pinning Harry down with an accusatory glare. “He made some ridiculous statement about being favored by death.”

Dumbledore turned his gaze on Harry as well. It was an even mixture of bewilderment and concern. “Harry...?”

Harry heaved an over-dramatic sigh and threw himself down into one of the overstuffed armchairs that flanked Dumbledore's desk. “I'm not the same Harry Potter you think I am. Not that it really matters because I am still Harry Potter, and I did just fulfill the prophecy, so we're square.”

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and suspicion filled his face. “If you're not the Harry Potter we think you are, then who are you?”

“I'm Harry Potter, age 46.”

“Forty-six?! That's preposterous!” Snape exclaimed.

Harry turned and looked up at the man with a smirk. “Are you so sure? Have you ever meddled with the magic of Time, Snape?”

“Of course not! Temporal rifts and causality loops! Tampering with the very fabric of space and time! Meddling with time magic is forbidden for a reason Potter. Any number of things could go wrong and destroy us all! It would be idiotically reckless!”

Harry actually laughed at that point. “That is what you always accused me of, isn't it? Being a reckless dunderhead who charged ahead without thinking things through first?”

“Because it's what you are,” Severus seethed through clenched teeth.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. “I won't argue with you on that part for the most part. I would say that I've grown a bit more cautious in my older years, but accidents still happen.”

“Are you suggesting that you somehow came back in time and it was an accident?” Snape bit out sarcastically.

“No, not quite. Actually I died, but Death made me a deal and sent me back in time, instead. But he really had very little choice in the matter, and in the end it was to his benefit anyway.”

“And what exactly is that nonsense supposed to mean!?”

“Severus –“ Dumbledore said in a soft voice, putting a temporary halt to the sharp anger of the Potions Master, who after a brief glance at the headmaster, switched to just glaring suspiciously at Harry. “Harry... can you perhaps explain things from the beginning?”

Harry sighed and shrugged. “It's fairly simple. In my original timeline the war lasted quite a bit longer. You had to come clean about the prophecy at the end of my fifth year after Sirius was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange. But you still didn't tell me about the horcruxes until more than half way through sixth year and even then you only gave me riddles and hints. Then you went and died, leaving me to fend for myself, entirely,” Harry said, giving the older wizard an accusing glare.

“Took me ages to find them and even longer to figure out how to destroy the blasted things because you never told me how. But I eventually did destroy them, all except Nagini – Neville actually got her,” he chuckled and smirked. “Then just as Snape here was dying, he gave me a memory from when the two of you were speaking before he died. Albus here had told you to make sure I saw the memory right before the final battle. That memory informed me that I was a horcrux and that I would need to die before Voldemort could actually be killed. Again – I can't help but wonder if you ever even looked for an alternative, because I found one in a week, dodgy old coot...” he muttered under his breath. Severus still heard it and raised a single eyebrow, while Dumbledore, if he heard it, opted not to react.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, with an exaggerated tone, “at that point I got this for the first time – “ again, Harry flashed his hand, but held it up longer and Dumbledore was able to lean over the desk and apparently get a better view of the ring this time. Recognition graced his face and his eyes widened and he gasped.

“Is that – ?!”

“Yes,” Potter bit out and quickly pulled his hand back and put it on the arm rest, when Dumbledore made to reach across the desk towards his hand. “And no, you can't have it.” Severus frowned and looked between the two of them feeling a rush of annoyed bewilderment at being out of the loop. “I was already master of your wand at that point, so once I got this, I was officially master of all three, and thus, master of Death, and I couldn't die. I didn't realize that though, so when I walked out to offer myself up to Voldemort so he could kill me and destroy the last horcrux, I honestly thought I was going to die. I didn't – I came back, but now, without the horcrux, so after that Tom and I dueled, and he ended up dead. The end, Happily ever after and all that rubbish nonsense. I remained master of Death after that, even though I stuck your wand back in your tomb. The wand still recognized me as it's master, apparently. Thanks to that, when I died just recently, Death had to come to me and... we had a little chat. He presented me with a few options and I took the one I found most appealing. Thus – I'm here.”

“That doesn't make any sense! Master of Death?” Severus scoffed.

“How did you become master of my wand?” Dumbledore asked, ignoring Severus and giving Harry a very pointed look.

Harry snorted. “You knew you were dying for the better part of a year before you finally died. You'd gotten cursed... because of this, actually,” Harry waved his hand with the ring again. “So you convinced Severus here to kill you before the curse could finish you off, in order to maintain his position as spy and remove any of Voldemort's doubts about his loyalties. But since it was basically assisted suicide, you were hoping that it wouldn't be considered 'defeating' you, and thus, the wand would never switch it's alliance to him. However, things didn't exactly go as planned and there was this death eater attack on the school and someone disarmed you before Snape could kill you, and then I disarmed the wizard who disarmed you, and thus, I gained the wand's loyalty. So no, Albus, I did not kill you to gain the loyalty of the Elder Wand. At that time, I didn't even know about the Hallows or any special significance your damned wand held.”

Dumbledore slowly sat down in his own chair and seemed to eye Harry speculatively for several long moments.

“Severus says that you were hit with the killing curse and survived. You say you were master of the Deathly Hallows in your own time, but right now, at this moment, you are not. The Elder Wand is still mine. So how do you explain your survival of Voldemort's curse?”

“Death gave me a temporary free pass,” Harry said with a shrug. “He said until Tom was dead, I couldn't die. I'm pretty sure that if either of you hit me with a killing curse now, I'd keel over just like anyone else. I'm not immortal. Nor would I ever want to be,” he added with a shiver and a grimace.

Dumbledore looked less suspicious, but he was still eyeing Harry warily. “How did you die?” he asked with a softer tone now than before.

“Magical accident. There was an explosion in the lab I was working in and I got caught in it,” he said chuckling weakly and shrugged. “Nothing spectacular or noteworthy. Just a stupid magical accident.”

“For what reason did... Death, permit you to come back in time?” Dumbledore asked, looking more curious now than the suspicious looks from earlier.

Harry stiffened. “That's personal. The truth of the matter is that every one of the options he gave me, were basically just different circumstances that would remove me from my position as his master. As you pointed out earlier, I am no longer master of all three Hallows – one of them is yours and I think we can all say it's safe to assume you won't be handing your wand over to me. So now, Death no longer has to answer to me, or anyone. The same went for the other options, but out of all of them, this one benefited me the most. I was fairly confident that I could wipe Tom out fairly easily this time since I actually know now what I needed to know to do it – and I was right. As seen by our lovely corpse here,” Harry smirked and jerked his head towards Voldemort's body.

Severus flinched as his attention was drawn back to it, having somehow managed to block out the fact that the Dark Lord's body was floating in the room with them.

“Ah... yes, it would appear you were right,” Dumbledore said dryly. “So what do you intend to do now, Harry?”

Harry heaved a sigh and for the first time seemed to lose some of that arrogant smugness that seemed to be clinging to him since Severus had first seen him appear earlier that evening.

“I don't know...” he said softly. “Probably disappear somewhere under a glamour or something. Maybe I'll go overseas.”

“You'd leave Hogwarts?” Dumbledore said, frowning and sitting up straighter.

“I hardly belong here anymore, do I? I'm thirty years older than all my old friends here – what the hell would I have in common with those kids? Hell, I'm older than Sirius by, what? Ten years? And that's assuming he actually had the mental maturity of his literal years, which we all know he doesn't. He was probably mentally stunted by his time in Azkaban. It's enough for me to know I actually saved them all this time. Cedric still died, so... well I guess I didn't manage to save everyone, but I couldn't go back far enough to prevent the tournament or Riddle's resurrection. But I saved Sirius, Moody, You, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Severus here and... so many more. So many died in the war...” Harry shook his head and looked away from the pair of them into the depths of the office and his eyes caught on Fawkes, sitting atop his perch. He grinned sadly. “So this is enough for me. There won't be a war, and I came back before Riddle broke the Lestranges and the others out of Azkaban, so we don't even have to deal with rounding them up. I already sent Pettigrew to Amelia Bones at the Ministry – we'll see if anything comes of it, or if Fudge just finds a way to bury the whole thing.”

“You realize, Harry, even if you are... mentally, forty-six, you are still in the body of a fifteen year old. You are not of age, nor are you even legally qualified to retain a wand. Even after you reach the age of seventeen, until you have taken and passed OWLs in a minimum of three subjects, you will not, legally, be allowed to keep a wand. That fact will not change, even if you do go overseas. You will still be required to fulfill their local education and qualification requirements if you are going to be allowed to continue practicing magic.”

Harry sat up and eyed Dumbledore for a long moment as if he were trying to work something out in his mind first. “What are you getting at?” he finally asked.

“It seems to me that it would be wisest to stay here at Hogwarts – for this year, at least – and take your qualifying exams.”

Harry pulled in a slow breath as he looked thoughtful, if not still a bit put out. “I know what you suggest is probably logical, but it would require spending the rest of this school year here and pretending to be bloody fifteen again.” Harry let out another frustrated-sounding sigh and sat forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. “But after the end of the year, I could petition to take my NEWT exams at the Ministry early, so I wouldn't have to come back after that.”

“Are you so sure you wouldn't want to come back?” Dumbledore asked, clasping his hands and smiling softly at Harry.

Harry snorted. “I look back at myself as a teenager and violently cringe. I was a class-A moron as a kid, not to mention naïve and gullible and biased and headstrong. I was an idiot, and so were my friends. The thought of spending vast quantities of time with younger versions of my old friends is not appealing to me, and pretending to be myself at age fifteen is just as unappealing a prospect. Not to mention that bloody Umbridge is here this year and I remember quite clearly how much of a miserable hag she was. You are aware that she's using an illegal dark artifact to torture students during detentions, right?”

“What?” Dumbledore gasped.

Harry snorted and looked away. “That really was always one of my problems as a kid. I had this absurd idea in my head that you were omniscient or something. Of course it's your fault for encouraging the idea with how you act all the damn time,” Harry muttered bitterly. He turned back and leveled Dumbledore with a flat stare. “Umbridge is making students write lines with a blood quill for detention. Hundreds of lines and for hours so that the obscene rubbish she has them writing, ends up scarred into their flesh for life. Even at forty-six, I could still faintly see traces of the scar on the back of my hand from all the detentions she put me through when I was fifteen.”

“Great Merlin... I didn't know,” Dumbledore whispered and his normally twinkling-blue eyes darkened with anger.

“You've permitted a monstrous harpy to take run of your school, Dumbledore. You've got more power than this, I never could figure out how you could possibly have sat back almost the entirety of my fifth year and done nothing while Umbridge ran rampant like a mad woman, torturing the students, humiliating the faculty, and spouting propaganda and lies at every turn. You know, in my original timeline, she managed to run you out of the school, took over as headmistress, started using veritaserum to question the students, and tried to cast crucio on me once during an interrogation? The woman is insane and dangerous and I cannot even fathom what reasoning you would have for not taking action to get her the hell out of this school. She shouldn't be allowed anywhere near children!”

“Perhaps, Harry, if you would be willing to lodge a formal complaint with the Board of Governors and testify in regards to her use of a Blood Quill on a minor, we might find some grounds on which to get her out –“

“You can't be serious!” Harry exclaimed. “You're Albus Bloody Dumbledore! Your head of the Wizengamot for Merlin's sake! You've been headmaster of this school for decades! Are you telling me that a single summer of slander and libel from one idiotic politician has stripped you of every bit of political pull you've acquired over the years? You need me to file a complaint in order to get her out? Do you honestly think me that naïve? Okay – you want me to stay at Hogwarts, I can totally accept that. You probably want to keep an eye on me because you're paranoid. I did just spend three measly weeks away and manage to slay Voldemort, not to mention not die from a killing curse – again. I'd be paranoid and suspicious of me too. But you don't need to spout rubbish like this to keep me around. Besides, my word would mean nothing against Umbridge. The Ministry and the Prophet have seen to that. No one would believe anything from the boy-who-lies-to-get-attention. There are loads of kids who've been getting the same sort of detention I was, so get them all in on a group petition of accusation or something. But leave me out of it.”

Severus was now eyeing Harry with critical interest and was, in fact, almost intrigued by this Harry Potter. He was starting to consider the boy's ludicrous claims of being from the future as a legitimate possibility, simply on his increased vocabulary alone, which was certainly something he'd never known Harry Potter to exhibit. Merlin knew the boy's grammar was atrocious, and even worse in written form. Not to mention the fact that the boy had apparently developed a backbone and removed his rose-tinted spectacles, in regards to the great Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sat, looking thoughtful for several long beats before folding his hand on the desk in front of him. “Alright. Then I will simply ask. Harry will you please consider staying at Hogwarts until the end of this year, at least?”

Harry shook his head and chuckled before heaving a sigh. “Oh, I suppose. It'll take me some time to sort things out and make some plans, anyways. But only if Umbridge is gone, very, very soon. If she's still here next term, I'm not.” Harry paused and looked over at the floating corpse and frowned. “So what do you intend to do with that? I'm fairly sure if you showed it to Fudge, he'd just insist it's a fake or something. If they did believe it's real, a simple examination will make it obvious the killing curse is the cause of death, and I have no desire to get sent off to Azkaban for use of an Unforgivable.”

“Are you saying, Potter, that you do not want credit for slaying the Dark Lord?” Severus said, with a disbelieving drawl.

Harry scoffed. “Are you kidding? Yeah, no thank you. I did the whole 'Boy-Who-Vanquished-the-Dark-Lord' bit and it got old instantly. If no one ever knows about this, I at least have the hope of slipping into celebrity obscurity after a few years of keeping my head down and out of the press.”

“You? Keep your head down?” Snape drawled sarcastically and in a disbelieving tone.

“Have you ever been hounded, twenty-four-seven by paparazzi? Had your house staked-out by a horde of camera-happy lunatics, desperate for the latest shot of you doing something even remotely interesting? Or not interesting at all. I had witch weekly run a reoccurring article that debated the merits of my weekly wardrobe choices. I want nothing to do with it! Tell them one of his Death Eaters turned on him and offed him. Tell them that you killed him,” he said to Dumbledore. “You're already known as Grindlewald's defeater, so why not add Voldemort to your resume.”

“Ah, but I'm afraid I would also rather not have a killing curse on my record,” Dumbledore commented lightly with a small grin.

“Right. Good point. Well then – say one of his Death Eaters turned on him. Or say you have no idea how he died at all – that Severus here just found him dead in the meeting room when he was summoned, or something. Er – assuming you're willing to come out and say you were acting as a spy again.”

“I was unaware that I ever gave you permission to refer to me by my first name,” Severus bit out in obvious irritation.

“Er... right. Sorry uh... Professor Snape. That's going to be odd... oh whatever.”

“Are you saying, Harry, that you and Professor Snape got on closer speaking terms in later years?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling now. Severus glared at him before turning his icy hard gaze on Harry.

Harry took one look at it and snickered. “Um... yes and no. I ended up speaking with his portrait a lot the last few years.”

“How did you get access to a magical portrait of me?” Several asked, looking mildly scandalized.

Harry paused looking thoughtful for a moment, as if he were debating whether or not to answer before he shrugged one shoulder. “I was made Headmaster of Hogwarts eight years ago when Minerva finally decided to retire. Before that I was the Defense professor for for about um... oh, it was twelve years, I suppose. Anyway, after I became headmaster, this became my office and as such, I had access to both of your portraits.”

“You were the headmaster of Hogwarts?! And why would my portrait be here?” Severus asked, the slightest hint of bewilderment making it through his stoic sneering mask.

“After Albus here died, Voldemort didn't waste much time in his war efforts. By the end of the summer, he'd assassinated the Minister for magic and got his own guy in there to take his place. He had complete control of the Ministry and control of Hogwarts before the school term even started. He put you in place as the Headmaster of Hogwarts since he trusted you. After all, you'd killed Albus Dumbledore for him so you'd proved your loyalty. So in that regard, I guess your plan worked,” he said dipping his head to Dumbledore. “In any case, you were, technically, the headmaster of the school for that school year, and as a former Headmaster of Hogwarts, you deserved to have your portrait here with the rest. It took quite a lot of petitioning and stupid political bickering to get the Board of Governors to approve putting your portrait up here since loads of people believed you were just a traitor since details of your spying were often skimmed over in the reports after the war.”

“Are you saying that you fought to get my portrait included?” Severus said, incredulously.

“Yes, of course,” Harry said looking mildly offended. “Honestly, the people who ended up in power didn't want to admit the work or sacrifices you made in the war effort at all, and I know they were substantial – more than many, many others. By making a stink over your portrait, I at least got some news coverage and generated some public response to the issue. It was the least I could do. I never did manage to get them to issue a posthumous Order of Merlin,” he ended bitterly. “But at least I got them to retract Pettigrew's.”

“That's... an incredible tale,” Dumbledore said after a few moments of silence had settled between them. “Well, I suppose you did pose me a question earlier. What shall I do with... this...”

The three turned their gazes back to the corpse.

“Well?” Harry asked, looking at Dumbledore expectantly.

“I'm not sure,” Dumbledore said with a simple smile. “I must say, out of all the plans and contingencies that I have taken into consideration, this is not a likelihood I ever considered taking place. I must think on it. However, I can promise you that I will not reveal your involvement in the event, if that is truly what you desire.”

“I appreciate that,” Harry said with a nod.

“People will wonder, no doubt. It is quite publicly known that you have been missing for the last three weeks. It's been in the Daily Prophet quite a bit, as I'm sure you know. I can place his body in stasis so that it does not decay right away, but I can only do that for so long. The longer I do that, the more evidence there will be that his death is not necessarily an immediately recent occurrence. The closer together your reappearance is, to his reported death, the more likely it is that people might... connect the dots.”

Harry scowled. “Right. Since it's so logical to assume that a fifteen-year-old boy would be capable of defeating someone like bloody Voldemort,” he said sarcastically.

“But you did,” Dumbledore pointed out with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.

Harry snorted. “But I'm hardly really a fifteen-year-old. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that when I was really fifteen, I definitely couldn't have done it. It was mostly a matter of dumb luck that I managed it at seventeen.”

“So I assume it's safe to say that you would like me to wait to reveal Lord Voldemort's death?”

“I guess I should be seen in the school and reported back for several days before it gets out. Can you put him in a stasis that long without it being obvious that it was done?”

“I believe I can manage a few days without any evidence of a delay being obvious.”

“Good, thanks.” Harry sighed heavily and let his head fall back against the chair.

“Dolores will no doubt contest his return to the school. An unexcused and unexplained absence of this length can be terms for expulsion,” Severus pointed out.

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before the corners of his mouth turned up. “There is an exception in the school rules that state unexcused absences of prolonged duration become excused if it's discovered a magical accident beyond the student's control was the cause of their absence.”

“You're going to claim you've been missing because of an accident? I'm assuming you have something specific in mind?” Severus asked.

“Yeah, actually I just had a student a year ago – er... well, in the future however many years, minus one, so... nevermind. Anyway, she was missing for most of the second term for her sixth year. When she finally managed to reappear it turned out she'd been trying to become an animagus in secret for a while. She managed the transformation without supervision, but got stuck that way and couldn't manage to turn back for months. She had to re-take a year because she'd simply missed too much to just make it up, but since she had no control over her absence, I couldn't expel her, even if I'd wanted to. The poor girl was a real mess though...”

“This is your plan? To claim that you transformed into an animal and got stuck? Are you even an animagus?” Severus scoffed.

“I was...” Harry said, frowning slightly in thought. “Haven't tried it yet since I came back in time though. I didn't actually manage my first transformation till I was twenty-one though. Of course, I hadn't exactly had a lot of time before then to study the magic involved... well, I suppose I'd may as well see if I can still do it.”

“Now?” Severus exclaimed.

“Why not? Although, if I can't manage it right off, I don't see that being a big problem. Loads of people have been recorded managing a partial or even whole transformation on an early attempt, but then taking months of practice to pull it off again. It should still fit with the story.”

Harry stood up, and gave a shove to the floating corpse, sending him floating a good five feet away from them. Severus grimaced at the reminder that it was still there, but refocused on Harry as he moved a foot away from his chair and closed his eyes.

He stayed like that for nearly a whole minute with nothing apparent happening, and Severus was about to make a sarcastic remark of some sort when the teen-who-wasn't-a-teen began to blur and shrink. Tufts of grayish-brown fur began to sprout from the sides of his jaw and his black hair started to lighten in color and shorten.

The transformation was a bit jerky and awkward, but considering this was the first time that Harry was doing it in his younger body, it was probably rather impressive. Not that Severus would actually admit to thinking such a thought.

A blink of an eye later, Harry Potter was gone, and in his place was some sort of feline. It was about twice the size of a large domestic cat with big heavy paws, and it had grayish-brown fur with black spots and a whitish belly. The sides of the cat's jaw and around the front of the neck were feathered with fluffy poofs of fur, and the tips of it's tall rounded ears had black tufts sticking up. It had a short, stub of a tail instead of the traditional long tail one associated with a cat, and black bars of spots along it's limbs.

“You're a cat,” Severus drawled, rolling his eyes. Minerva was going to love this. Just brilliant. Another cat animagus roaming around the castle.

The feline-Harry hissed at him, stuck his chin into the air and looked away as if he were imperiously dismissing him. He walked around in a circle then and seemed to be trying out his form as he lifted and moved each of his four paws, one after another. Finally he began to shift and shimmer again and grew in size as he transformed back.

“I am not a cat,” Harry said indignantly the moment he was back in human form. “I'll have you know I'm a lynx. There's a difference.”

Severus just rolled his eyes and looked away with an air of boredom.

Harry did the same, looking in the opposite direction. “Well, anyway,” Harry said, turning back to Dumbledore, “I managed it, and I think this works as a great cover story. People will ask where the heck I've been and I can just tell them I've been eating rabbits and foxes in the forbidden forest. Simple.”

“Won't people wonder why you didn't try to get someone's attention in the school in order to shift back?” Severus asked.

“Have you ever studied the animagus transformation?” Harry asked Severus flatly.

“It was not an area of study that interested me,” Severus bit out coldly.

“Afraid your students would be right and your form would turn out to be a bat?” Harry asked, grinning.

“Mind you cheek Potter!” Severus snapped back angrily.

“Honestly, I would think it would have helped tremendously with your spying, but whatever,” Harry said, shrugging. “Anyway, the first few times an animagus fully transforms, its surprisingly easy to lose yourself to the animal's instincts. It's one of the reasons that it's considered such a dangerous area of study and you're always supposed to do it with trained supervision. It's very easy to just stay that way, in animal form, and forget all about your human responsibilities and your human life.”

“Yes, that is true. Well then, it appears that we have our reasonable explanation for Harry's absence,” Dumbledore said, happily. “And it will provide valid grounds to fight any attempts Dolores makes at having Harry expelled.”

“You will be taking steps to get her removed, yes?” Harry asked, warningly.

“Yes, of course. Her treatment of the students is unforgivable, and the various reasons I had for not taking action before are now all but null so I no longer have to hesitate. And, once I can make moves in regards to Lord Voldemort's body, I feel that Cornelius will no longer have the same intense desire to fight me, as he has been these last months.”

“Well, I leave it to you then. I suppose I ought to be heading off to Gryffindor Tower... er... do you know the current password?”

“I believe it is presently 'Wattlebird'.” Dumbledore replied. “One last thing though, Harry.”

“Yes?”

“Who else do you intend to inform of the true nature of your recent... changes?”

Harry frowned and looked thoughtful. “I don't know, really... I'll have to tell Sirius I think, but that can wait until the Christmas holidays when I see him in person. Part of me doesn't want to inform too many people because the more people who know, the greater the chances of it getting out, but I have no doubt that Ron and Hermione will notice I'm different. Once Hermione gets herself interested in a puzzle, she won't give up until she figures it out. If I try to hide this from her, it'll only drive her more to figure me out and that would get rather bothersome, so I might just have to tell them.”

“What of Professor McGonagall? She is your head of house and seeing as your cover-story involves you being an animagus, she will surly insist upon giving you lessons in that area now.”

Harry hummed in thought. “I think I'll stick with the cover-story for her unless events change and I feel it's necessary to tell her the truth.”

“That is your decision to make,” Dumbledore conceded with a nod of his head.

“Alright. 'night Professors,” Harry said with a yawn. He turned and headed towards the door, giving the two a parting wave as he stepped through and closed it behind him.

Severus' eyes remained trained on the closed door for several moments longer before he managed anything coherent. “I fear I may be in shock,” he muttered. “Did this evening truly just happen?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “If you are in shock, dear Severus... I believe I may be right there with you.”

Dumbledore looked over at the floating body of the now-deceased Dark Lord and let out a long, slow sigh of heavy relief. “I can hardly believe that it is truly over.”

“Do you think it's true? What he claims about somehow being from the future? Sent by Death?! And what the devil was all that nonsense the two of you were going on about with his ring and your wand?”

“Ah, Severus, that is a very complicated story.”

“Please, Albus, indulge me,” Severus sneered.

– –

“Wattlebird,” Harry spoke to the large portrait of the Fat Lady as he came to stand before it.

The large sleeping woman yawned and blinked a bit owlishly before beginning to swing her portrait aside and allow him entrance. Harry crawled through the circular entrance revealed behind it and entered the common room.

It was empty, which wasn't really a surprise, considering how late it was. He took a moment to just look around. It wasn't all that different, really. But that was probably going to cause him more trouble than it was going to help.

He still had serious misgivings about being back here in the role of a student. It probably wouldn't have been so odd if it weren't for the fact that Hogwarts had been his home for nearly two solid decades, anyway. He'd been made head of Gryffindor House when he came on to teach Defense at age 26. He'd given up his title as house head to his Defense position replacement when he took over as the new Headmaster upon Minerva's retirement, but he still occasionally visited Gryffindor tower, even after that. It was hardly an unfamiliar site, being back here.

But the familiarity was what would likely make this the most difficult. He'd developed habits over the years, of course, and being somewhere so familiar would make those habits hard to break. He knew that calling Minerva 'Professor McGonagall' again would feel really strange, but slipping up on that one would be one of those things he'd have to watch himself for.

He was wondering whether he could consider this a reprieve on his responsibilities, or if he was just forgetting how difficult classwork had been. He knew that when he was younger he had never really considered just how much work was involved in running a school and had never realized just how much stuff he would be doing on a day to day basis as Headmaster. So he was hardly intimidated by now being a student again and suddenly having to worry about homework and exams. In fact, perhaps this would provide him more time to work on some of his projects. He could refocus on some of his experiments – admittedly, it would be annoying starting nearly from scratch and not having any of his notes or any of his colleagues around to bounce ideas off of, but at least he wasn't going to have nearly so many other responsibilities to pull at his limited time.

Of course he would need to be careful – after all, it was one of these experiments that had ended up with him dying so... right. Caution was important.

Hopefully Umbridge wouldn't be too much of a pain in his neck and Albus would actually manage to get the harpy out of the school.

Finally deciding that he would just have to handle things as they came at him and decided to climb the stairs and find his bed.

– –

“HARRY!!”

“Hwuh?” Harry muttered blearily as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter against the sudden glare of bright light that was washing in across his pillow.

“Merlin's great saggy balls! We were afraid you were dead!” Ron bellowed as he pulled Harry's hangings back further, letting even more of that loathsome light into his bed and causing Harry to groan miserably before pulling his pillow up over his head to block out the light.

“Harry?! He's back?” came Neville's voice from somewhere else in the room.

“He's back?!” Dean called out.

“HEY! HARRY'S UP HERE!” Seamus called out, and it sounded like he was calling out the door.

“Oh for Circe's sake! You cannot be serious!” Harry groaned, although it was quite muffled by his pillow. “All of you, get the bloody hell away from my bed and Ron – pull back the hangings, I'm blinded. I'll get up when I'm damn well ready!”

“No way, mate! Where the heck have you been? We've been worried sick!”

“Did you say Harry's back?!” Hermione's voice suddenly called from somewhere beyond the entrance to the boy's room and Harry groaned. There was no way he was going to be getting any more sleep now. He heaved a disgruntled sigh and pushed himself up and out of his bed, glowering at Ron as he did so.

“Hey, don't give me that look! You owe us an explanation! You up and vanished for three weeks without a word and now you just appear back in your bed!” Ron exclaimed defensively.

Harry heaved a sigh and glanced over to see Hermione's head poking around the open doorway looking at him with an expression of shock that instantly morphed into absolute relief.

“Harry!!” she said as she shot past Seamus who called out 'Oy!' and muttered something about this being the boy's dorm, but she either didn't hear him, or ignored him. The next thing Harry knew he was being plowed into by an overly bushy mane of brown curls as Hermione wrapped him up in her arms. “Oh Harry, I was so worried! We thought you were taken by Him! Where have you been!?”

“Hermione... can't... breath,” Harry choked out and she finally released him, taking a step back and flushing slightly. He guessed it was either embarrassment over the overeager hug, or it was from her realizing that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Or both. Probably both.

“Well?!” Ron said impatiently.

“Well what?” Harry groused as he pulled open his small student wardrobe and dug around for a shirt, grimacing distinctly at every one of the ratty Dudley castoffs that filled it before settling on a gray t-shirt that was only slightly threadbare and pulling it over his head.

“Well, where the heck have you been?!” Ron and Hermione exclaimed at the same time. “What happened?” Hermione added.

Harry turned back and looked hesitantly at them before glancing around the room and seeing Neville, Dean, and Seamus also standing around watching him expectantly.

“Was it You-Know-Who?” Ron whispered, seriously.

“No,” Harry answered, figuring that he could at least say that much with those who were watching.

He was fairly sure that, no matter what, he would eventually be telling Ron and Hermione the truth, but he wondered if he should start with that, or give everyone the story about the animagus accident and then try to introduce the truth gradually... But then again, another part of him still wondered if he should tell Ron and Hermione the truth at all. No. No, he'd changed too much over the years and suddenly becoming an animagus wouldn't explain all that. He would have to tell them.

“Well, if it wasn't You-Know-Who, what was it?” Ron asked.

Harry grumbled and ran his hand through his messy hair and rubbed a hand over his face roughly before sighing and leaning in close with Ron and Hermione. “I'll need to tell you two the truth later, okay? Just... what I'm about to tell everyone else isn't the whole truth, but play along, okay?”

He leaned back and Ron and Hermione shared a look before looking back and Harry and giving him determined nods of acceptance.

“Okay, how about you all let me get dressed and head down to the common room so that I only have to go over it once, yeah?” Harry said and they all grudgingly allowed him to go to the bathroom and shower in peace.

Ten minutes later Harry rounded the staircase to look down into a crowded common room with all eyes expectantly trained on him. He sighed and finished making his way down the stairs and walked over to an open seat on a couch beside Ron.

“So what happened?! Where have you been?” Ginny asked sounding just as impatient as Ron had sounded ten minutes earlier.

Harry sighed. “I had an accident... a magical accident.”

“Is this to do with that fit you had in Transfiguration class?” Dean asked.

“Er – no. That was actually totally unrelated. The accident I had, actually happened after I'd snuck out of the Hospital Wing and went outside for a walk. Uhm...” he pulled in a slow breath, sounding a bit frustrated, and honestly feeling rather irritated with all the eyes trained on him. “Okay, so I've been secretly trying to become an animagus and it was a stupid mistake. There's a reason why there are rules in place stating that you need to be instructed and monitored by someone who knows what they're doing, and I'm a walking example of that.”

“Animagus?!” Someone exclaimed.

“Did you do it?” said someone else.

“Yes, I did,” Harry said loudly since quite a few voices were starting to speak up now, and his statement quieted them, except for a few quiet exclamations of 'wow!'. “The thing is that it's really easy for someone performing the transformation for the first time to sort of... lose themselves and forget that they're really human, and that's kind of what happened. I spent nearly two whole weeks just confused and disoriented and running off of animal instinct, and when I finally started to straighten my head out, I realized I had no idea how to turn back. I only just managed it last night. That's all there is to this. Nothing else. Are you all satisfied now?”

Lots of murmuring and excited whispers filled the air as people began to talk amongst each other.

“Show us!” a voice called out.

“Yeah! Can we see you transform?”

“Don't be ridiculous!” Hermione reprimanded. “The last time he transformed without supervision, he was stuck that way for three weeks!”

“Er, I actually transformed back and forth a hand full of times last night with Professor Dumbledore. I'm pretty confident I can manage it without any problems now,” Harry said, shrugging and grinning sheepishly to Hermione who gave him a reproving glare.

“Yeah! Let's see it, Potter!”

“What animal are you?”

“Yeah!”

“Harry, did Professor Dumbledore say if it was okay for you to transform without a teacher?” Hermione asked, pointedly.

“Er... He actually didn't say one way or the other,” Harry replied with a cheeky grin. “I'll be fine, Hermione. Besides, if I don't show them now, they'll be pestering me all day. And if anything goes wrong you lot are all here and you can just take me to Professor McGonagall and get me sorted out. Yeah?”

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh but waved her hand as if saying 'well, get on with it.'

Harry stood up and those standing around all moved back to give him some space. A few more called out, asking what he was, but he decided that he'd just show them.

He closed his eyes and a second later he had shifted, twisted, and shrunk down into his feline form.

“Whoa!”

“Wow!”

“He can really do it!”

“Blimey mate!” Ron exclaimed. “You've really become an animagus!”

Harry made a few circles in his form, pawing his way around the thick rug on the floor before jumping up on the sofa beside Ron, who made a small yelp of surprise and jumped slightly. Harry would have laughed, but the sound came out weirdly so he stopped. He settled himself seated on the couch as a lynx and smoothly transformed back into human, still sitting there, looking perfectly relaxed.

“Wow!” someone called out again.

“So you're some kind of mountain lion?”

“He's not a mountain lion, moron.”

“I'm a lynx,” Harry answered.

There was more excited talking amongst the Gryffindors and Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking at him with semi-hurt and bewildered expressions.

“Um..,” Harry said, not entirely sure what to say.

“Why didn't you tell us you were trying to become an animagus, Harry?” Hermione asked, frowning.

Harry heaved a heavy breath and looked around. People were still looking at him, but they were mostly just talking amongst themselves now.

“Like I said, there is a lot more to this than what I just told everyone else,” he whispered, leaning over. “It's Saturday, right?”

“Yeah,” Ron replied, looking at Harry like he was a bit mental for not knowing.

“Okay, good. Let's head to the Room of Requirement, so we can talk in private,” Harry said as he stood up. His two childhood friends were quick to follow him and the trio vacated the common room without too much interference and were standing in front of the blank wall opposite the tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy two minutes later.

Harry walked back and forth in front of the stretch of wall three times before the door appeared and quickly ushered his old friends inside. The room that greeted them was a comfortable sitting room with three squashy armchairs around a small circular coffee table, and tall arched windows all around the top of a domed ceiling. It was actually reminiscent of the Ravenclaw common room, but he doubted that either of his friends knew that.

All three sat down and Harry picked at the hem of his tattered t-shirt for a moment, wondering how to start.

Finally he just shrugged to himself and looked up at his two expectant and anxious friends.

“Okay, I'm just going to come out and say it. This is going to be really hard to believe, but I swear I'm not lying. Alright... I traveled back in time. That fit I had in Transfiguration was from when I, from the future, with my future memories and magic came back in time and entered my younger-self's body. The two of us had to merge a bit because I had my consciousness, my magic, and my memories; he still had his soul, mind, and magic as well, of course.

“Now our memories were compatible because his were identical to mine, up to a point, so that merger really just meant my old memories from when I was sixteen were clarified and strengthened from the faded things I had at my older age. The merger of our magic had some really unexpected side-effects. I'm still trying to get used to it and figure out exactly how powerful I am now, but... well, it's a bit mind boggling, honestly. Uhm... merging our souls was basically just an instant combination. A soul can't really be duplicated or doubled, it just is. But our conscious minds... well, mine won out. I think that a person's personality is really just the result of our life's experiences, and all of my experiences from my future life came with me, so... I'm not exactly the same Harry that you two knew three weeks ago. I'm still Harry, but I'm a much older Harry than you remember, but crammed inside my younger-self's body.”

Harry paused and took a breath. His two friends were gaping at him in stunned shock.

“Mate... are you kidding?” Ron asked in a shaky voice.

Harry gave him a sad smile and shook his head. “No. I'm not. It's really really complicated. But I sort of accidentally became immortal when I was seventeen. It saved me from Voldemort in the final battle where I finally managed to kill him, and after that I had just sort of assumed that the um... immortality thing was gone, but it apparently wasn't. I died again in an accident just well... three weeks ago, from my point of view. I was forty-six at the time, but because of this thing that happened when I was seventeen just before the battle with Voldemort, I couldn't quite die. Death came to me and gave me a set of options for what I could do from that point, and one of them gave me the opportunity to come back in time to this point and... well, change things. So that's what I picked.”

“Change what sorts of things?” Hermione asked. Her brow was furrowed, but she at least wasn't instantly arguing that he was delusional and he took that as a good sign.

“The war,” Harry said simply. “Too many people died before. Now that won't happen.”

“How can you be sure about that, though? I mean... if... if this is all for real and you really are from the future, then you've taken a huge risk! Tampering with time is incredibly dangerous, Harry! You have no idea what sorts of repercussions your changes could have! For all you know, you could change things and it could all end up worse!”

“Well, it's already pretty improved. I mean, the first time around, I didn't kill Voldemort for another three years, basically, and the Ministry and Hogwarts had been taken over by Death Eaters, and the muggleborns were being hunted down and 'disappearing'. And Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody, Remus, Tonks and... and Fred... they all died in the war before I finally managed to end things.”

“But that could still happen, Harry!”

“Er... I rather doubt that,” Harry said, smirking, now.

“How can you be so sure?!” she asked, indignantly.

“Because I killed Voldemort last night.”

Whatever Hermione might have been about to say, clearly died in her throat and she gaped at him. Ron made a choking sort of sound.

“Say what?” Hermione squeaked.

“That's where I've been these last three weeks. As soon as I woke up in the hospital wing, after you know... coming back in time and getting my scrambled brain sort of sorted out, I headed out and started working on what needed to be done to strip him of his safe-guards. He had these things that he created to make himself immortal and until they were destroyed, I could kill his body a hundred times and he could always come back. So I had to get rid of them first. So... I did. Yesterday morning, I got the last one, and last night I broke into his manor, took out the few measly servants he had standing around, and then he and I faced off in his meeting hall. Snape was there, actually. I hadn't expected an audience, but I was glad it was him instead of anyone else. He just stood there and watched, it was rather amusing, honestly,” Harry paused and snickered. “It also helped to have a witness, plus Snape knew a faster way to get back to Dumbledore than I was planning, so I had less distance to traverse while hauling around Voldemort's corpse. I left it with Dumbledore last night.”

“You... Vo-v-v... C-corpse?” Ron stuttered.

“You-Know-Who's dead?” Hermione whispered in shock.

“Yeah,” Harry said grinning smugly. “Bloody bastard never knew what hit him. It was rather cathartic, really. A hell of a lot more fulfilling this time than the first time I did it. Mostly then I was just desperate and terrified. I mean, I knew what I was doing this time and was pretty damn sure it was going to work, so that really helped with the whole confidence thing.”

“Wait, if You-Know-Who is really dead, how come we aren't telling everyone?!” Ron exclaimed, standing up suddenly.

“Er.. well, I don't want credit for it,” Harry said, hesitantly, grimacing slightly. “I mean, who would believe it anyway? I mean, most people don't even believe that he's really back at this point.”

“But if you've got his er... his body,” Ron grimaced and looked a bit sick, “then we can prove to everyone that it was real! That you and Dumbledore weren't lying!”

“Well, I think that Dumbledore is going to reveal the body, but he promised me he'd wait a few days. He's putting the body into stasis so that when it's revealed, it'll appear that he only just died that day, and by that point, people will have seen me back at school for several days and I'll have an alibi. That's also what this whole animagus accident story is about.”

“That's crazy! Why wouldn't you want people to know you did him in?!” Ron yelled.

“Er, maybe because I don't want the publicity?” Harry asked, sarcastically. “It was a nightmare before and I'm not even vaguely interested in a repeat of that. But there's also the fact that I used the killing curse, and Fudge has me paranoid enough to know it's best if no one accuses me of using a spell that can land me with a one way ticket to Azkaban or something.”

“You cast the killing curse,” Ron whispered with a mixture of awe and horror.

“Yeah... I really wasn't willing to risk it by using something less effective. I wanted him dead for sure, and well... that's what that curse does,” Harry said with a slight apologetic grimace.

Ron's legs appeared a bit shaky and he sank back down into the chair he had stood up from a moment later and seemed to nod and mutter slightly under his breath.

“So you're an animagus,” Hermione said, in a forcefully light tone, drawing attention away from the previous subject.

Harry gave her a soft, appreciative grin and nodded. “Yeah. Originally I managed the transformation when I was twenty-one. Last night when I was talking with Dumbledore and Snape and I was trying to come up with some excuses for why I had been missing that could keep me safe from the chance of expulsion, the idea of a magical accident involving a transformation into my animagus form came to mind. I practiced the transformation to make sure I could really still do it, and since I could, we decided to go with that for the public story.

“It's really the simplest explanation, and it's very plausible. Plus, since it's a 'magical accident beyond my control', Umbridge can't have me expelled for my unauthorized absence. It also helps because if anyone asks what I was doing these last three weeks, I can just tell them I was roaming around the Forbidden Forest hunting rabbits and sleeping in trees,” Harry chuckled.

The trio remained silent after that for several long moments and Harry didn't offer up anything, opting instead to let his old childhood friends mull over the information he's presented so far.

“This is a lot to take in, Harry,” Hermione said eventually with a heavy breath. “It's just all so sudden. I don't think I can even really get it to sink in. You-Know-Who – dead? Really?”

“Yes. He's dead,” Harry said with a firm nod.

“So... so there's not going to be a war?”

“Nope. There really shouldn't be. In my original timeline, he broke a bunch of Death Eaters out of Azkaban in mid-January, but I made sure that I came back before that happened so I'd have less to deal with. Oh! And I caught Pettigrew and sent him to the DMLE along with a ton of Death Eater documentation and stuff I came across. Only time will tell if it does any good, but who knows? Maybe I'll actually get Sirius' name cleared.”

“He never got cleared in your um... future timeline?” Hermione asked, unsure of her words.

Harry shook his head sadly. “He died at the end of fifth year. Killed in a battle against a bunch of Death Eaters. There's this prophecy that was made before I was even born and it's kept at the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries and the Death Eaters went there to steal it. I went there with you lot and some of the DA to stop them, and Sirius and the Order came to save our sorry arses,” he snickered before sighing sadly.

“Prophecy?” Hermione said, sounding rather skeptical and Harry chuckled at the memory of her disapproval of divination as a whole.

“Yeah, it's why Voldemort was after me like... my whole life. A prophecy was made stating that I'd be the one with the power to vanquish him, and that it was either him or me. Last night I fulfilled it.”

“Whoa,” Ron whispered hoarsely, still looking dazed and shocked.

“So... how old did you say you were when you were sent back?” Hermione asked.

“Forty-six.”

“Forty-six?!” Ron squeaked.

“So, mentally, you're still forty-six years old?” Hermione asked.

Harry let out a slightly exasperated sigh and nodded. “Yeah, I'm not even sure how I let Dumbledore talk me into sticking around as a student. It's going to drive me a bit barmy, really.”

“You can't leave!” Hermione exclaimed.

“What do you mean, mate! Are you kidding? Where else would you go?” Ron asked.

“Guys, it's been like... thirty years for me since I was a student at Hogwarts. The only reason I'm sticking around at all is because if I don't get my OWLs, I won't be considered qualified to wield a wand. After that, I'm going to try to petition to take my NEWTs early through the Ministry so I don't have to go through and repeat two more years.”

“But... but Harry...” Hermione started, looking lost. Ron just looked stunned.

“Hermione,” Harry said gently, leaning forward and locking gazes with her. “Do you want to know what I was doing – professionally, I mean – before I died and came back?”

“What?” she asked quietly.

Harry grinned. “I was headmaster of Hogwarts. I started teaching the DADA post when I was twenty-six and did that for twelve years before Minerva finally decided to retire and asked me to take over as the Headmaster. I've been doing that for years now, so... well, the idea of being a student here again is just... mind boggling, honestly. I've been a teacher here, and I've run the school for years, but to go and start pretending I'm only fifteen again? I'm not even convinced I can manage it.”

Hermione's eyes were wide and her jaw had dropped with awe. Ron just looked stunned. Suddenly, Hermione's jaw snapped shut and she suddenly looked conflicted and began gnawing on her bottom lip.

“You want to ask me what you were doing, but you're also worried about the implications on the timeline, aren't you?” Harry said with a knowing smirk. Her eyes snapped up and met his for a moment before she sighed and nodded.

“Yes,” she groaned. “I'm just... Oh! I want to know!”

Harry chuckled. “I can give you a vague overview without really risking ruining things, I think. Besides, it's not like my being here is reliant on a causality loop that I have to maintain. There's no risk of a paradox because of how I was sent back. I guess you could say I'm here because of a loop hole,” Harry chuckled. “Anyway, um you went into the Ministry for a while after you graduated, trying to work towards equal rights among magical creatures and such, but after a while you got so damned frustrated with all the red tape and ridiculous politics, you quit and went into the private sector focused mostly on research and spell-creation. You still chaired several committees, fighting for the increased rights of werewolves, veela, centaurs, and house elves, among other things.”

“What about me?” Ron asked suddenly.

“You and I became Aurors right after the war and did that for a number of years. We all pretty much bailed ship on the Ministry around the same time. When Hermione gave up on it and went into the private sector, I quite and ended up coming to Hogwarts to teach, and you left and became partners with George and helped him run the joke shop.”

“An Auror?” Ron said with awe in his voice and a huge prideful smile. Then it shifted to confused concern. “Wait, why would I be helping just George with a joke shop? What about...”

“Fred died in the war. I mentioned that... but I guess I said a lot. Sort of information overload before.”

“Fred... died,” Ron whispered, looking horrified.

“But he isn't dead now,” Harry said quickly and firmly. “And he won't be dying either. No Voldemort, no war, no huge battle, no deaths.”

Ron looked a bit relieved and nodded his head, muttering under his breath, no war, no battle, no deaths.

“But it's not like any of that is set in stone. You guys can go on to do anything, really. Who knows what I'm going to end up doing, this time. I suppose I could come back and teach again, but chances are I'll have to wait a number of years before that's an option,” Harry said.

“Harry... before... you said that... that Dumbledore died?” Hermione said, disbelievingly.

“Yeah, it was at the end of our sixth year. Death Eaters stormed the castle. I'd really rather not get into it. None of the details matter anymore. It's all irrelevant now.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right,” Hermione admitted reluctantly, but she obviously wished she could ask more.

Another pause of silence filled the space between them and Harry let out a low sigh after a bit. “Well, I've got to admit I'm really surprised with how well you're both taking this,” Harry said with a chuckle.”

“Honestly Harry, I think a big part of me is still in denial and is vaguely convinced I'll wake up and this will all be a dream,” Hermione said.

“So you said you died, but you were immortal?” Ron asked, looking confused.

“Right, right,” Harry said. “Well, technically what happened was that I became Master of Death.” Harry went on to explain to them what the three Deathly Hallows were – the fairytale that was based up on them, what they really were, and what it meant to be Master of them. Admittedly, he skimmed over a fair bit, but covered enough for the whole thing to make sense.

“So Death didn't want you to be his master anymore, and that's why he gave you the option to go back in time?” Hermione asked after listening quietly for a while.

“Yup, basically. He had to bring me back from the dead, he had no choice in that, but he didn't want to be stuck in that position forever. He wanted to strip me of my title as his Master. He gave me several options that he thought might entice my interest, as alternatives to just coming back to life at the moment I died. I was... not happy... and he knew it. He took advantage of that fact, hoping to free himself from me. Coming back to this point in time was one of the options and I figured it was too good an opportunity to pass it up, just as he had hoped. I mean... well, like I mentioned earlier – we all became disillusioned and fed up with the Ministry. It's a mess now, but it was an utter ruin after the war, and it just kept getting worse and worse. It was nothing but radicals who refused to compromise on anything, so nothing was ever accomplished. And that was just one thing among a mountain of problems that sprouted up as a result of the war. I figured, if I could prevent it from ever even starting, it was worth having to re-do more than thirty years of my life.”

“This is just so much to take in,” Hermione said, shaking her head and looking down into lap, clearly overwhelmed. “I mean... you're not really even our Harry anymore, are you?”

Harry gave her a sad look and shook his head. “No... not really. And I truly am sorry for that... sorry for basically taking away your friend and replacing him with a jaded old man. I'm already really torn on how to approach the two of you. I... well, I miss your older counter-parts rather sharply as well. You're still Ron and Hermione, but you're not the same ones I left behind. Hell, they don't exist anymore. That future is gone. Only time will tell how things go now...”

Harry heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair looking thoughtful. “It wasn't all bad, of course; my old timeline. Politics and bureaucracy were a miserable headache, and I think my old 'saving people thing' drove a lot of my stress in that regard. I wanted... I wanted to fix things, but I couldn't. No matter who I was, I was still just one person, and I couldn't fix everything that was wrong. So I closed myself away in Hogwarts and tried to pretend the insanity outside the castle walls wasn't happening, but I couldn't. It would eat at me, constantly, and it was that, that Death took advantage of. But I can hardly put him at fault, and I am grateful for the opportunity this has given me. Still – I will miss my old past. There were good things too. There was family, and my students, and my friends... There were... there were good things in my life too, but now it's all gone. Wiped clean.” Harry sighed again and looked towards the wall of the room that featured a large fireplace and just stared at the flames.

“I think... I think that my largest regret or... fear in regards to this whole thing is the worry that my actions will prevent some of the good things from happening too. I mean... hell, without the war, I have to wonder if Teddy will ever even exist at all...”

“Teddy?” Hermione asked, gently.

Harry smiled sadly, still focused on the flickering flames in the fireplace. “My first godson. Teddy Lupin.”

“Lupin?” Hermione exclaimed, smiling with happy surprise. “Professor Lupin had a son?”

Harry's soft smile faded slightly and he nodded. “Remus married Tonks, if you can believe it,” he chuckled weakly. “You met her over the summer at Grimmauld Place, right? Right... Anyway, we got closer over the following years, but they both died in the final battle. They'd made me Teddy's godfather, and I helped look after him a bit, but mostly he stayed with his grandmother – Tonk's mum, Andromeda. After I gave up being an Auror and started working at Hogwarts, I started taking Teddy in every summer and he and I would go on holidays all over the world. It was brilliant.” Harry smiled with the memory before it slipped into sadness again and he sighed. “Teddy didn't show any signs of having inherited Remus' Lycanthropy when he was a kid, so we all thought he was... safe. Around the time of puberty though...” he trailed off and grimaced. “He stayed with me more consistently after that. Me being an animagus helped, and I pretty much mastered brewing the Wolfsbane potion.

“But I'm pretty sure the only reason Tonks and Remus got as close as they did was because they worked together in the Order on a few assignments. Now, without Voldemort or the war, I wonder if they'll ever even end up together. Remus fought their relationship tooth and nail in the early days – he kept insisting he wasn't good enough for her and that he was too old. It was probably the looming threat of death and war that finally drew them together. Will that happen without the war? I don't know.”

“Well... at least they won't have to die now, yeah?” Ron offered up hesitantly.

Harry smiled softly and nodded his head. He turned back and looked at his two friends for a long silent moment. “Merlin, you're both so young. You know, it still hasn't all set in for me either. I'm still adjusting to all this too.”

“I can't even imagine,” Hermione said quietly. “So... Harry, you mentioned family; you also said that Teddy was your first godson, so I assume there were more? Did you ever... um... well, marry anyone?”

Harry laughed lightly and shook his head. “Oh no. Not me. The eternal bachelor, you always called me. You were always pestering me to date but...” Harry shrugged. “No, I never married. Never really even had any long relationships either; just a few failed flings, I suppose. And yes, as you noted, Teddy was my first godson. Rose was my goddaughter and Hugo was my second godson. I also took on temporary guardianship of a few students with especially troubled home situations.”

“Rose?” Ron whispered. Harry looked up and their eyes met. “Was that my daughter? I always thought that if... well, if I had a daughter someday, I'd like to name her Rose.”

Harry gave his young friend a lop-sided grin and nodded. “Yeah. I don't want to say too much. I... well, who knows, but I don't want to say something and screw it all up. The timing probably wouldn't be the right anyway and even if you do have a daughter someday and name her Rose, it probably won't be the same Rose I knew... eh, I'm just talking myself in circles here.”

“Who was my...” Ron started to say, but then he frowned and paused for a moment as if debating his words.

“I shouldn't say,” Harry said, not giving him a chance to ask, although Harry's eyes did momentarily flicker over to Hermione before looking away. Her eyes widened minutely before looking over at Ron, then back at Harry.

“Well,” Hermione said, drawing the attention of the other two, “it's sort of nice to know that we were all still close, even thirty years from now.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah. I'll admit, we didn't see each other as often as I would have liked... we were all busy with things, of course, but we always saw each other at holidays and such. And over the last year I'd been working on this cure for Lycathropy with this woman named Seraph Melkin, who was the apprentice to my Potions Master at Hogwarts. I saw you, Hermione, a bit more often, because you were sort of acting as a go-between with us and the larger werewolf clans in Britain. You got a few willing test subjects for us since you already had a lot of contacts with them after all your years of working for equal rights and such.”

“A cure for lycanthropy?!” Hermione gasped. “Oh, Harry! That's incredible Do you think –“

“Yeah, I'm actually going to be working on it as soon as I can get some freetime,” Harry said, nodding. “The problem is that I'll be starting from scratch, and without any of my notes or the materials that I'd collected, so it's going to take me ages to sort through my memories and get it all organized and down on paper. Not to mention trying to acquire a few key ingredients that were a right pain in the arse to get a hold of in my original timeline. Honestly, that was one of the reasons I was hesitant to come back to Hogwarts as a student. I could really use this time to get cracking on some of my work, but... well, I suppose finishing out this year is probably important. I need to get my OWLs down on record no matter what so...” Harry shrugged. “At least I know I'll get better marks on them than I did the first time around,” Harry snickered.

“Man, this is blowing my mind,” Ron said. “I've got a headache, and I'm hungry. We missed breakfast....” he groaned.

“Ronald Weasley! This was more important than breakfast!” Hermione scolded and Harry laughed.

“We can probably slip down to the kitchens and get brunch,” Harry said.

“I second that motion!” Ron said excitedly, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

– 

Harry had to recount his cover-story about the animagus accident a few more times over the weekend, and was almost constantly hounded by people who were excited about his sudden reappearance and wanted to hear all the details about his absence. The members of the DA were all rather persistently curious if he was going to take-up teaching the lessons again. They'd missed three weeks in a row, but seemed eager to have another meeting as soon as possible. Harry had almost forgotten about that entirely and had actually been taken by surprise the first time it was asked, but quickly recovered and just told anyone who asked that he'd be getting in contact with the charmed galleons whenever any plans were set. He had a lot of classwork to catch up on, after all, and needed to focus on that first.

McGonagall cornered him on Saturday afternoon and after a lengthy session of being questioned and scolded for recklessness, she then assigned him to weekly lessons in animagus training and informed him that he wasn't permitted to transform without supervision from herself until she was satisfied that he wasn't going to get stuck again. She also said that she would have the proper paperwork so that he could register with the Ministry and that they'd best do it as soon as possible to avoid a fine or other legal recourse from the Ministry.

McGonagall also informed him that she and the Headmaster had already had a discussion with Umbridge in regards to him – Umbridge had, as expected, wanted him punished and/or expelled for his absence, but they'd managed to point out that with the current rules, that wasn't possible, since it was an accident beyond the student's control. Umbridge then insisted that Harry be punished for experimenting with magic beyond his level without supervision, and McGonagall insisted that she, as his head of house, would deal with his punishment and give him weekly 'detentions' for it – the detentions were, in fact, his new animagus lessons. Unnecessary lessons, but McGonagall didn't know that and Harry couldn't exactly tell her that.

Harry was grateful that McGonagall and Dumbledore had dealt with the toad without him having to be there. He rather doubted he could restrain himself from hexing her at the moment.

Monday morning, Harry dragged himself to the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione, dreading the day. His day would start with History of Magic with Binns, followed by Potions, then Divination, and then Defense with Umbridge. An all-around awful day.

Only ten minutes into his History class, Harry had decided that he would be scheduling a meeting with Dumbledore as soon as possible to insist the man hire an actual living history professor. This was just ridiculous. Hell, even Minerva hadn't put up with the dead man's miserable teaching and had hired a living teacher for the year Hogwarts was finally opened back up and classes started again.

Harry really hadn't known what to expect from potions, but wasn't really surprised when Snape started bombarding him one rather high-level question after another mere minutes after starting the lecture portion of the class. Harry hadn't known every answer exactly, since it had been a damn long time since he'd read his old fifth or sixth year potions texts, but he'd gotten most of them right simply from memory of having actually brewed the various potions, or having repeatedly handled the ingredients Snape questioned him about.

One question he answered actually seemed to throw Snape for a loop and it took Harry a moment to realize he'd mentioned, in some detail, an attribute and use for Tessaricarpa Begonia that hadn't actually been discovered yet. He back pedaled and tried to cover it up a bit, but the effort seemed pointless. Snape clearly comprehended the full meaning of what he'd said and appeared both shocked and intrigued, but no one else in the class, save, perhaps Hermione, seemed to realize Harry had said anything that no student should be able to know. That didn't mean that the other students weren't looking at him funny. The fact that he was able to answer any of Snape's questions accurately was a rare anomaly in behavior for Harry Potter. The fact that Harry was keeping up and answering a lot of questions was shocking.

Harry had been conflicted when he first started answering the questions. On one hand, he felt like he should be trying to maintain his old behaviors and pretend to not know the answers, but his pride, and the knowledge that Snape was testing his claim at being from the future, egged him on.

It seemed after that one shock with the Begonia properties, Snape pulled back and finally started assigning some more practical class work for them to start work on. They were working on a bruise-healing paste that day that Harry had practically memorized, so it didn't give him any trouble at all. Near the end of class when Snape had come over and examined the final product from Harry's efforts, he had simply sneered and walked away without making any comment.

After lunch, Harry had grudgingly dragged himself up to Divination and was only sitting in the class for a handful of minutes before he was desperately trying to recall when during the year Trelawney had been sacked by Umbridge, and wondering if there was any chance of having Firenze come in to take over half her classes, even if Dumbledore managed to get rid of Umbridge before she got rid of Trelawney.

He'd never developed much of an appreciation for Divination, even as he matured and opened his mind a bit. Even in his future, where he ran the school and had finally gotten a teacher who wasn't a fraud, the subject was still considered a 'soft choice'. It was the 'easy O', in contrast to one of the more difficult subjects like Arithmancy or Ancient Runes.

He ended up spending most of Divination working on a list he'd started in History class, detailing some things he needed to get, or things he needed to do as soon as he could manage. Mostly it looked like a shopping and a to-do list of chores. Get new clothes, blank journals, books, speak to McGonagall about dropping Divination, Speak to Dumbledore about Binns, write a letter to Snuffles, Write George Mueller about rocks ASAP, Contact Gringotts, etc.

It was the class that followed that he dreaded the most. And with good cause. Umbridge made the entire hour and a half block miserable for the whole class, but most especially for him. Yet he remained stoic and blank-faced through the whole thing. He ignored every sickly-sweet underhanded jab, and verbal slap with bored indifference and didn't react to any of her baited remarks. She tried to antagonize him numerous times, and it was obvious she was trying to get him into a detention with her, but he knew better and had years of experience dealing with the nastier side of human nature. He had dealt with nastier Ministry workers than the toad; although she was definitely among the worst.

When the bells finally rang, signaling the end of class, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and escaped with Ron and Hermione to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Things progressed in much the same fashion for several more days. It was odd being with these younger versions of Ron and Hermione, but he felt he was managing well enough. He compared it to spending time with Rose and Hugo, actually. He almost felt like he was babysitting his niece and nephew, while playing the cool uncle, rather than when he had been their Headmaster during the school year. Of course, both kids had left Hogwarts a few years prior to when he was sent back here. Rose was twenty and Hugo was eighteen... or... they had been. Now they were... gone. Now they never were.

That was another thing he just tried not to think about. There were a lot of things he was trying not to think about. He tried to spend time in the common room and play chess and exploding snap and even some gobstones, but he felt awkward and out of place. When Angelina Johnson came to him to explain that they had a Quidditch practice Thursday night and she expected him there, he'd stared at her in surprise for a moment before he snapped himself out of it and said he'd be there.

He'd completely forgotten about that! Which was sort of stupid, really. He should have remembered that he was still on the Quidditch team. He had missed the first quidditch game of the season, since it had taken place while he was hunting down the horcruxes, and that had been when he and the twins had originally been banned by Umbridge. Apparently his absence had been enough to change the events completely because Fred and George hadn't been banned either. Ginny had apparently taken over during his absence and played Seeker and Angelina said she was going to have Ginny come to the practices too to train as a backup for chaser and seeker positions. Apparently she was rather bitter at how stressful it had been to suddenly be short a seeker only days before the match against Slytherin.

A match that they had apparently lost. Angelina wasted no time in guilting Harry with that bit of information.

Harry had been pointedly avoiding Ginny up to that point, but it wasn't really that difficult to do since he hadn't really interacted with her much in 5^th year outside of the DA. And Harry was avoiding dealing with the questions regarding any further meetings until the news came out about Voldemort. He'd wait to see if Umbridge vanished from the school right away after that, or if she was going to try to keep her claws in the school longer. If she remained on as the defense teacher, he'd continue the DA, just for the sake of making sure the students didn't flunk Defense – especially those with OWLs and NEWTs coming this year.

While he had been busy purposely avoiding Ginny, he'd completely forgotten to avoid Cho, who managed to corner him one day in a corridor before dinner and awkwardly ask him about the DA, and then about the next Hogsmeade trip. It had taken him a moment to remember that the two of them had sort of awkwardly almost-flirted for the majority of his first term in fifth year. Any attempt at a relationship had failed utterly for numerous, very valid reason. Cho had felt guilty about Cedric's death, and Harry had been an awkward, confused, idiot with too much on his plate. Well, that and the other, more significant reason it could never have work, but he'd been sort of ignorant, or at least in firm denial, of that reason when he was actually fifteen.

By the time it was Friday, Harry felt utterly exhausted, and he wasn't even sure why. His work load was hardly all that hard by his own standards – although he had a rather hefty pile of make-up work. Ron didn't seem to agree with Harry's insistent that while the pile was mildly daunting, it was hardly the worst he'd ever had to tackle. Ron couldn't stop complaining about the homework load, and he didn't even have make-up work that Harry did. Hermione just scolded Ron for always putting everything off so much, and refused to help him with any of his essays.

This was around the point that Ron seemed to wake up and suddenly realize that Harry had been a professor for twelve years and started trying to get help from him. Harry had laughed, but actually went ahead and tried tutoring Ron on the subject. It was clear that the ginger wanted Harry to just let him copy off of him, but Harry wasn't about to let that fly and Ron quickly realized that.

Saturday morning was when the news of Voldemort's demise broke in the morning Prophet. It was a huge front-page spread that, shockingly enough, included photos of Voldemort's corpse surrounded and being examined by Ministry wizards. It had details on Peter Pettigrew's capture and questioning under Veritaserum which confirmed Harry's report from his abduction at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and Voldemort's return ritual. They'd also captured several of the Death Eaters that Harry had left at Voldemort's manor house bound and stunned. He actually flushed at the realization that he'd completely forgotten about them. Apparently Dumbledore went back for them or something.

The Death Eaters had no idea how Voldemort had been done in, nor did they know how they'd come to be unconscious, so it was reported that they were likely obliviated. The running theory that the paper was pushing was that Voldemort had been done in by one of his own followers who wasn't quite so pleased that their old master was back and once again demanding their subservience.

There was a call for any information regarding the identity of the person who actually killed 'You-Know-Who', and the paper was actually offering a reward for any information. The statement from the Minister was that the individual would be granted amnesty for any other crimes if it could be proven that they were, in fact, the one to do away with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry didn't give a damn, he was just thrilled that his name wasn't being tied to it at all.

He was mentioned though. Mostly in regards to the Ministry and the Paper attempting to pretend that they'd never accused Harry of being a deceitful, attention-seeking liar, and instead praising Harry's heroics and bravery for surviving and escaping the Dark Lord's clutches after having been abducted at the end of the previous school year.

Fudge was also scrambling to save face, and made several statements in regards to praising Harry and Dumbledore in their efforts to raise awareness and other such pandering rubbish. Harry was too disgusted to finish reading it. When he looked up at the head table, he felt a wide grin spread across his lips as he noted that Umbridge was missing.

The hall was generally a mass of chaos that morning. Heck, the whole school was in chaos all weekend. Loads of people came up to Harry either to claim they'd believed him all along, or to apologize for not having believed him before. Once Harry was sick of trying to dodge all of the students, he slipped out through the secret passage between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade that led into the basement of Honeydukes. Once in the wizarding village Harry cast a glamour over his face and spent the day shopping in blissful anonymity.

–

It seemed that Gryffindor house – and most likely the majority of the school's population – intended to party the whole weekend through. Harry found the common room a bit too rowdy for his tastes. He certainly couldn't blame them for holding a bit of a celebration, seeing as how they'd all just learned that Voldemort was well and truly dead, but the reality was that most of them hadn't believed the bastard was back in the first place. Just the same, Harry was well and done with the issue and wanted to just put it behind him.

He now had some of the books he needed, as well as several journals so he could keep track of his various research projects in a more orderly fashion. He ended up hiding out in the Room of Requirement in order to compose a number of important letters, in relative peace

Out of all of the things he needed to get done, the one he expected to be the most convoluted and time-consuming was getting in contact with an American Scientist named George Mueller, so he set to work on that first.

It was convoluted, mostly because the man was a muggle. He was also a muggle who probably didn't know about the magical world... well, yet. He had known about it in Harry's time, but that was because of a grandson who turned out to be a wizard, but Harry wasn't clear enough on the dates to know if that grandson was old enough yet to have been contacted by the magical governing body in America.

The first thing that Harry needed to do, unfortunately, was enlist the aid of a solicitor who was familiar enough with both the magical and muggle worlds to be able to get Harry's letters and things sent to a muggle in the America's, not to mention deal with the delicacies of revealing sensitive information to a muggle in a foreign land.

Again, Harry knew of a firm that he had used in the future-past, but that was a great number of years from now and he had no idea if the people working there now were as reliable or trustworthy. It was all sticky and vaguely frustrating. Not to mention how annoying it was to have to try and do all of this from Hogwarts. It would be so much easier if he could just travel to America and talk with Dr. Mueller himself in person.... perhaps over the holidays? That was something to consider. He would need to apply for an international portkey, not to mention getting his magical passport registered...

Harry quickly set to accomplishing as much as he could mange with the limited means and information he had available to him. The solicitor was first, and he got a letter prepped and set to the side for later mailing. Then he slipped into the Library and managed to track down the names of who to contact in the International Travel office for getting the forms necessary for getting a passport, as well as for applying for an international portkey, from a directory listing of different Ministry departments that was kept there for the NEWT students who had to do their career interview and research projects.

He was fairly sure that at this point in time Dr. Mueller was still working at Kitsler Aerospace, which was in Oklahoma at this point, so he wrote off another letter to the Ministry's international travel office requesting information on any magical settlements in Oklahoma City, in hopes of getting the information necessary to arrange a hotel.

In the end, he had to make use of a number of school owls, but he sent Hedwig off with the first of his many missives, so as to assuage her annoyance at him using owls other than herself. When his house mates questioned him about his disappearing act, remarking that they'd expect him to want to celebrate more than anyone else, he had made vague excuses about a stomach bug and being tired before slinking up to his dorm room to sleep.

Monday came and Umbridge was still missing. Harry ate his breakfast with a very pleased grin plastered across his face.

History was once again used as an opportunity to attend to his own studies, and he spent the class making notes in one of his new journals in regards to his lycanthropy project. Potions was actually slightly enjoyable, if not even amusing. Snape set about trying to stump him again with another onslaught of questions. These were even more advanced than the ones he'd attacked Harry with the week before. Those questions had actually been theoretically around the level of a student preparing for their NEWTs; these, in contrast, were around the level of someone early in their prep for their Masters or at least an apprenticeship. Amusingly enough, Harry actually found these questions easier, since they focused on subject matter he'd paid attention to more often in recent years.

The OWL-level questions had caused him a bit of trouble the way a middle-aged man who had grown accustomed to the crutch of a muggle calculator might stumble if suddenly required to do long division by hand without any refresher. But maybe that was just his problem. In any case, he hadn't given the OWL-level material any though in ages, but the questions posed to him now were much more familiar territory, and he found himself getting into the question session with vigor.

At one point he and Snape seemed to verbally tussle back and forth, playfully arguing the merits of Skrabager's Arc and the use of Bloodroot and Elecampe as a bonding agent in the Elixir of Longevity. When the two of them suddenly became aware of the rest of the class's continued existence and their dumbfounded stare at the pair of them, Snape quickly barked out orders for everyone to open their books to page 183 and start brewing while he stalked back to his desk and pointedly refused to meet Harry's eyes for the remainder of the class.

Divination was rubbish, and Harry was seriously considering just dropping the subject. He knew Minerva wouldn't really fight him if he made a reasonable argument, and the free block would give him more time to work on his personal projects.

Defense was canceled. It would seem that Umbridge was still missing, and no one had yet been arranged to take over her classes. Making a split second decision, Harry asked the students who were all standing around the door looking at the note tacked there and gossiping excitedly, if they'd like to join him for a real Defense Against the Dark Arts study session.

There was some questions and some debating, and not everyone opted to stick around, but a fair enough share of students did and they all migrated into the classroom. Harry plucked a lesson plan at random from his mind and went seamlessly into lecture mode before switching to a practical lesson for the last half hour.

It was clear that his classmates hadn't exactly expected it, but by the end, they honestly seemed pleased with the time spent, and several asked if he'd be doing it again. He shrugged, honestly having no idea. Ron hinted at the existence of the DA to a few who weren't already in-the-know. Since they still didn't know what the final word about Umbridge was – whether she was coming back or not – they opted not to make the club public knowledge yet.

The following day was fairly packed with charms, transfiguration, care of magical creatures and then herbology. Once that was all done, Harry thought he might finally have some time to continue working on his notes, but was pulled aside from the fifth-year Ravenclaws who had apparently heard about his efforts with his canceled defense class the previous day. Umbridge was still gone and the 5^th year Ravenclaws had, had a canceled block and were not asking Harry if he would consider repeating what he'd done for his own classmates the previous day. He'd paused, considering whether or not he wanted to set himself down this path, But the reality was that they were all in their OWLs year and having several months of incompetent instruction, compounded now by absolutely no instruction, was not helping anyone.

He told them to contact anyone else they knew in their year from Hufflepuff or Slytherin to see if they'd like to join to, and to meet him in the Defense classroom right after dinner.

The room was pretty full when he finally arrived that evening. Hermione came, even though she'd been there during the Gryffindor session. She'd tried to get Ron to come along too, as moral support, but once Harry said he'd just cover the same stuff as before, Ron backed out. All of the Ravenclaws, and most of the Hufflepuffs had shown up, and surprisingly enough, several of the Slytherins. They were the “Neutral” ones – Zabini, Greengrass, Davis, and Nott. The ones that never really tagged along as part of Draco Malfoy's 'gang'. Harry was almost surprised that Malfoy himself hadn't shown up just to hassle Harry for kicks.

At the very start of the 'class' there was a momentary hesitation where his nerves threatened to take control, but he beat them down quickly enough. Never show weakness before a classroom full of teenagers. He'd learned that early on. He'd taught this subject for more than a decade, and it didn't matter if these people saw him as one of their peers. If he took control quickly and confidently enough, it wouldn't matter.

And so that's what he did. He went right into lecture mode, just like the day before. He covered the same subject, basically, that he'd covered with the Gryffindors, in hopes that if this teaching 'trend' continued for much longer, he could keep them all in sync.

There was a little hesitation to cooperate, but confidence, experience, and no hesitation on his part, got things in control quickly enough. In the end, he was actually pretty pleased with the outcome. He had to stop himself from assigning homework. He rather doubted they'd accept that too willingly. But he did 'recommend' a reading.

As they were all filing out of the room, Terry Boot came up to Harry to tell him how impressed he was with the class.

“You were right brilliant, Potter. Have you ever considered being a teacher?” Terry Boot had asked. Harry had just grinned at him and shrugged.

The following morning, Harry had Divination first thing and Transfiguration afterwards. Before Transfiguration could actually start, Harry went up to Professor McGonagall and asked if they could speak after class and she'd agreed. As soon as class was over and everyone else had cleared out, Harry cut straight to the point and told her he wanted to drop Divination. It was a waste of time and effort, and gaining an OWL in the subject wouldn't even be worth the effort.

She looked torn between agreeing with him outright, and the more responsible response of trying to talk him out of it. Her practical nature won out, and she approved of his choice and took him into her office to fill out the drop course form. She had also heard about the Defense lessons he'd done and asked him a bit about that, which included her confiding in him that it was looking more and more like Delores Umbridge would not be returning to Hogwarts – she smiled quite smugly at this revelation – but that they were having difficulty working out a schedule for the other teachers to try and cover the Defense lessons until a replacement could be found. They talked lightly on the subject on the way to the Great Hall for lunch, at which point they went their separate ways.

Wednesday Harry finally started getting some owls back with replies to some of his post. He got the form for his passport, as well as the form for applying for an international portkey – however he would have to get the passport before he could apply for the portkey, and it looked like he would have trouble going without a guardian who was of age to accompany him. That reminded him that he hadn't yet written to Sirius, which then reminded him that he still didn't know what progress, if any, there was on the front of Sirius' exoneration. He wrote a quick note to Dumbledore, figuring that would be the quickest and easiest source of information on the matter, requesting a meeting at the Headmaster's convenience. He figured he could bring up the subject of a proper History teacher while he was at it.

That day just before dinner, a third year Harry didn't know handed Harry a rolled up scrap of paper that was tied with a red ribbon, saying that he was told to give it to Harry. It was from Dumbledore – a short and simple missive informing Harry that he was free that evening at eight, and that he was quite fond of peppermint humbugs.

At eight that night he gave the password to the gargoyle and rode the spiral staircase up to the Headmaster's office that had once been his own, in another life that would never be. Dumbledore called him inside and offered him lemon sherbets and tea as Harry took a seat on the side of the desk that felt oddly foreign and mildly disorienting to him. He grinned and accepted both.

“So Harry,” Dumbledore began with a wide, welcoming smile as he folded his hands on his desk. “What was it that you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Well, several things, I suppose,” Harry began as he sipped at his steaming tea. “First, I was wondering what you know of Sirius's legal situation?”

“Ah, yes, yes. He's in communication with Amelia Bones at the moment, and they are arranging for him to turn himself over willingly for a proper trial. It would appear that Madam Bones was most outraged when it came to light that there were no transcripts of a trial, or even an interrogation of Sirius, because such events had never taken place at all. She is seeing to it that justice is served properly, and I believe there have already been talk of Ministry reparations to the House of Black.”

Harry nodded his head, taking it in. He'd never really gotten a chance to know Madam Bones since in his old timeline, she'd been killed by Voldemort himself in the summer shortly after the incident at the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries. Still, he'd always heard very good things about the woman. With luck, she might even replace Fudge as the next Minister of Magic. The man's reputation was taking a very steep dive down the toilet at the moment. His attempts to save face were clearly not sufficient enough to save him from all the bad press he'd been getting lately. It made Harry very smug.

“Right, okay then, I have a few other matters I wanted to bring up as well,” Harry said then.

“Feel free, my boy,” Dumbledore replied with a warm smile.

“They're mostly staffing matters, I suppose. I'm afraid I don't really have any suggestions for the Defense post, but might I recommend you consider hiring a History professor that actually breaths oxygen? Hogwart's History NEWT and OWL scores are utterly abysmal, and it's a real disgrace. Surely you can offer Binns a position as a... a... I don't know, a guest speaker and an adviser or something? I mean, he was still around, even in my day, but Minerva replaced him with an actual living teacher the first year after Hogwart's repairs were made, and it made a tremendous difference.”

“Did she? Oh... well, I suppose I could begin looking around for candidates...”

“That would be a good idea, I think. Also... now that Voldemort is legitimately dead and gone and the prophecy is fulfilled, do you really need to continue protecting Trelawney up in her tower with her sherry bottles? The woman really and truly is a hack. I mean... maybe keep her on out of pity as an optional section, but getting a different Divination professor would go a long way.”

“A different Divination professor?” Dumbledore said with some surprise. “I hadn't considered it...”

“She would have been sacked by Umbridge this year,” Harry said as he leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his tea. “You wouldn't let Umbridge kick her out, of course, because you still needed to protect her. But you ended up hiring Firenze, the centaur, to fill the post and he was brilliant. Even after you reinstated Trelawney, he stayed on since the other centaurs wanted nothing to do with him. They taught alternating sections of the course, but there really was no questioning that Firenze's were leaps and bounds better.”

“Firenze? My, what an idea,” Dumbledore said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, I kept him on even when I was headmaster,” Harry said, nodding absently. “Trelawney left on her own after a while, thank Merlin. After that Firenze taught all Divination at the school.”

“Who was the History Professor that Minerva hired?”

“A girl named Griselda Hookum. She graduated um... four years ago, I think.”

“Ah yes. A Slytherin, I believe. She did have impressively high marks in History.”

“For a Hogwarts graduate, that's for sure,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Anyway, she was really quite pleasant. She left the same summer that I became the Headmaster though, and I ended up hiring a rather nice girl, Emma Dobbs, to fill the post.”

“Ah – a muggleborn? I believe she was sorted in Hufflepuff last year.”

“Yup,” Harry said nodding before taking a bit out of one of the small ginger biscuits that sat on a tray on Albus' desk beside the bowl of sherbet lemons.

“How interesting. A muggleborn teaching History of Magic?” Dumbledore said twinkling with apparent approval and amusement.

“Her father was an historian and an anthropologist. She carried a similar passion, and really involved herself into the study of magical history. I'm sure that she would appreciate you hiring on a decent teaching for the History post, especially. I recall any number of times when we'd all reminisce in the staff room about our school days and she's complain about how absolutely worthless History of Magic was when we were all students here. It's seen as a throw-away class and that's a real shame.”

“I suppose I cannot argue with you on that point. I will take it under serious consideration and perhaps I will contact Ms. Hookum.”

Harry grinned and thanked him.

“Were there any other issues that you wished to bring to my attention?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry hummed in thought, debating what subjects he could bring up with Dumbledore and what things the man might actually be able to help him with. He considered mentioning his intention to travel abroad during the holidays, but didn't want to set any sort of precedence where the man thought he had the right to dictate Harry's travels. He certainly didn't need the man's permission, and the last thing he wanted was for Albus to think he did. He figured he could always bring certain subjects up with the man later when things were a little clearer.

“Not at the moment, Harry said slowly.

“Well in that case, I do have one thing that I would like to bring up with you,” Dumbledore said smiling.

“Oh?” Harry said slowly, eyeing the man with the slightest hint of suspicion.

“Yes. I've heard from Professor McGonagall, as well as from the school 'grape-vine', as it were, that you hosted two rather successful Defense lectures for your classmates?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“As I'm sure you are no doubt aware, we have a bit of a staffing problem at the moment, with the sudden departure of Madam Umbridge. I had expected that I would need to take steps to persuade her to leave, but it seems she had decided that, with all of the upheaval and general commotion at the Ministry since this last Friday's news, that her presence is more needed back in London, and thus, we are without a professor.”

Harry cocked a single eyebrow, silently urging the man to just get to the damn point, but not actually commenting verbally.

“I am trying to contact a number of potential candidates to fill the post but it looks unlikely that anyone can come on such short notice, as to actually be here before the winter holidays. As such, the present plan is to have the existing faculty, as well as myself, assist with substituting the remaining defense lessons.”

Both of Harry's brows raised into his forehead now. He knew enough from his own experience as both a teacher, and then the Headmaster, that expecting the already over-taxed professors to take on more work, was expecting quite a lot from them. Rather unreasonable, actually.

“I will personally be taking on the NEWT level students for Defense, and will likely be lecturing in most of the OWL-prep lessons as well,” Dumbledore continued, “since those students are the ones who are in the most dire assistance in preparing for their accrediting exams. The other teachers will be combining many of the classes into larger groups and doing lectures once or twice a week as they can manage to fit into their schedules.”

“Well, I suppose something is better than nothing, and nothing just might be mildly better than Umbridge herself was,” Harry said with a mild snort.

“Ah, yes, that just might be so, but even if all of our staff were to take on some role in helping teach the classes, it appears that there is not quite enough.”

“Aaand?” Harry asked slowly, giving Dumbledore a slightly impatient look.

“As an unaccredited fifth year who has not yet even taken his OWL exams, you are obviously not officially qualified to actually teach any of the classes – especially to the older students – but I was thinking that perhaps you could supervise bi-weekly 'study sessions' for the first and second years. I understand that you've dropped Divination. I think we might be able to re-work the schedules of two sections of first years to take their Defense class during your Monday and Wednesday blocks when you would have had Divination before. The second years could be during your Friday block.”

Harry gave Dumbledore a rather disbelieving blank stare before he snorted slightly with amusement and heaved a sigh. “How long would this last?”

“Not long. Just until the end of term.”

“Assuming you actually find someone to come and take the Defense post. That is, after all, why you got landed with Umbridge this term – you couldn't find anyone to fill the post, so the Ministry took advantage of the situation and did it for you.”

“Well, that is true, in part. I do, however, feel that I can find someone to take the post now that we know Voldemort is well and truly dead.”

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “True – the curse was lifted after his death in my original timeline, so it should be gone now.”

“Yes, and that is quite a relief. I cannot emphasize enough how distressing it was to have to find a new professor every year.”

Harry snorted. “I bet. I hated dealing with staffing.”

“Yes, it is quite unpleasant. So will you consider my offer? It would lighten the burden considerably if the first and second years were taken care of, and they are young enough that they will hopefully not give you too much trouble.”

“How are you going to work the logistics of this? I'll need to be able to take and give points, as well as assign detentions for misbehavior,” Harry pointed out seriously.

“I was thinking that perhaps we could take advantage of the powers gained automatically when a professor takes on an apprentice,” Dumbledore said, smiling with a look of someone who is quite proud of themselves for having worked out a puzzle in a particularly clever way.

“Apprentice?” Harry repeated, with slight incredulity. “Whose apprentice would I be? There's no Defense professor!”

True, it was a reasonable solution to their problem, since the apprentice system was so old, it predated the OWL and the NEWT exams. You didn't actually have to have any OWLs or NEWTs to be accepted as someone's apprentice. Not technically. But no one with any sense, these days, ever accepted an apprentice who wasn't already fully qualified. And only those already holding Masteries in the subject at hand, could accept an apprentice. So... it would have to be someone on staff with a Mastery in Defense.

“Ah, but it just so happens that we have two different professors on staff who hold a Mastery in Defense, so not having a Defense Professor, at the moment, is not really a problem.”

Harry frowned, going over the staff in his head to try and figure out which ones held Masteries in Defense. He knew Minerva didn't. She hadn't bothered to get her Mastery in it, although she no doubt was qualified. Flitwick, perhaps? He didn't think so. He may have been a dueling champion, but he had only ever bothered to get his Mastery in Charms. Oh... oh wait...

“Snape?”

“And myself,” Dumbledore said with a proud smile and a nod.

“Ah okay then. So... wait, really? Are you offering to take me on as your apprentice?” Harry asked, going a bit wide-eyed. It was a rather enormous honor, really. It was also quite unheard of! It really just was not done for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to take a student who was currently enrolled, on as an apprentice. A teacher could do it, perhaps, but not the headmaster!

“Oh, dear boy, I would most certainly love to do just that, however I am unsure of exactly how such an action would be seen in the public eye. If it comes to it, then, yes, that just might be our best option, however I was actually hoping for the alternative.”

Harry blinked at him for a moment before he realized what the headmaster was actually suggestion.

“Wait – Snape? You want me to be Snape's apprentice?! Have you actually discussed this idea with him?”

“Well-not yet-however I imagine that he could be persuaded...”

Harry laughed. Loudly.

“Did I say something funny?” Dumbledore asked, in all apparent innocence and seriousness. Harry managed to reign in his snickers until it was muffled to a few escaped coughs.

“Erm... I suppose it's a matter of perspective. Anyway, I suppose I'm totally fine with the idea, assume of course, you can get Severus to actually agree to it. Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.”

“You don't wish to be present when I present the idea to Professor Snape?”

Harry made an incredulous, yet also amused, sort of choking sound that he muffled by biting one of his knuckles and shaking his head. “No,” he squeaked out. “No, I think I'll just leave that task up to you. Let me know how it all turns out.”

“Very well.”

The two called it a night, shortly after that and Harry headed back to the Gryffindor dormitories.

The rest of the week progressed smoothly enough. The next DADA class the Gryffindors had was a double shared with the Ravenclaws, and once again Harry took on the role of defacto lecturer, and this time, no one left, or argued. Some were still mildly bewildered – after all, Harry Potter had never been a star pupil. He'd always been rather better than most at Defense, but this seemed to be a very different Harry Potter than most knew. Granted – very few people really knew Harry Potter. He'd always been rather tight with his close friends, and very distant from everyone else. It had been a defense mechanism, as much as a result of insecurity and a youth of near total isolation.

It was also something that he had eventually grown out of – to some extent, at least. As much as was necessary for his professional career as a person who quite regularly partook in public speaking for the sake of instruction. As far as personal relationships went, the habit had never really left him. He had always kept only a few close friends with whom he felt comfortable being open and honest.

But this was a public venue for the sake of education, and he had adjusted a long time ago – from his perspective, at least – to being comfortable and outgoing in such a situation.

His classmates seemed authentically impressed with his performance. Even the Ravenclaws were impressed – and perhaps a bit thrilled at having an instructor that seemed actually capable of helping them prep for their exams.

That Friday evening was Harry's first 'animagus lesson' with McGonagall. He found himself slightly unsure how best to approach the lesson. He could either fake a few amateur mistakes and the time-consuming quality early animagus lessons normally required, or he could just show her that he knew what he was doing and get the lessons done away with quickly. He preferred the later, but was unsure he could get away with it without her growing suspicious.

In the end, he did a bit of a mix. He intentionally stumbled over the first and second attempts of everything she told him to do, in the course of their beginner practice exercises, but got it perfect on the third, and every subsequent try. She eyed him and accused him of having practiced on his own time, and repeated that he was absolutely not to do any of this without supervision. He insisted that he hadn't even attempted to transform since she had told him not to. She didn't exactly look convinced, but set the issue aside.

– –