Harry and Draco settled in as they had for the last two years, unpacking essentials and leaving other things for later. They spent a lot of time separately, each preparing their classrooms and going over lessons. There were boring staff meetings to attend, friendships to reacquaint with other teachers, and generally more work to catch up on before September first.

And before he knew it, the first was upon them. Harry felt a nervous tingle in his gut, which was foolish, because it wasn't he who was the student any longer. But he couldn't help the sense of déjà vu each time a new term started as if he would be looking up at some intimidating professor. This time, it was he who was the intimidating professor, and, being keenly aware of that he tried to make his classes as accessible as possible. He recalled Lupin's days as his teacher and in fact when he was training to take the job, he spent a lot of time with Remus preparing lessons and asking him questions on how to deal with students.

He knew Draco had his own style which had more to do with being a Slytherin than anything else. Yet the students from all houses seemed to like him. He wasn't ebullient like Horace Slughorn, but he wasn't a prat like Severus Snape either. He was simply Draco, and like himself, they were attracted to his appeal, his slick confidence, his wicked sense of humour, and, of course, his unique abilities with potions.

Harry happily anticipated the feast while sitting along side his husband in the Great Hall. He waved to Hagrid when he finally took his seat on the other side of the table and watched the proceedings as if it was his first time.

The sorting went on as usual, and Harry was happy to see that the student population had risen again to the same numbers while he attended. It seems the parents were finally used to former Death Eater Draco and gay Harry teaching their wee ones.

The sleepy and sated students trudged off to their beds once the feast was over, Dumbledore had a last minute chat ("pep talk" as Draco called it) to the teachers, and then they, too, trundled off to bed.

Harry and Draco made love and then fell asleep in each other's arms.

They rose early the next morning, argued over who would bathe first, and then, finally ready, they faced their first classes of the morning.

Draco had to floo to his dungeon study but Harry had only to go through the portrait hole from their suite to his study and then down the stairs into his tower classroom.

The seventh year students were already in their seats when Harry descended into the classroom. There were smiles on everyone's faces on greeting Harry. "Good morning, class."

"Good morning, Professor Potter!" they chorused.

He laughed as he always did when they said this. He just couldn't get over the fact that he was a teacher, even after two terms.

"Everyone glad to be back?" There were nods of ascent. He perched on the edge of his desk. He looked out at the expectant and familiar faces. "This is your last year at Hogwarts," he said solemnly. "And you lot. Well, confidentially, I have to admit that I have a soft spot for you all. I know what you did for me and Professor Malfoy and I can't ever repay that kindness-"

"We don't expect repayment, Professor," said Felecia Rosencrantz, the unofficial spokesperson for the seventh years. "We did it out of love. You and Professor Malfoy are really good teachers and we didn't want to lose you. I think I speak for all of us-" and here a few students tittered-"that we feel proud that you teach our classes."

There followed several "here, here's" and then they settled down again. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "Well, be that as it may," he said hoarsely, "I'd like to show my appreciation by starting up a dueling club."

The class made sounds of approval. "That's essentially what you'll be doing all this year. And you will be responsible for taking the younger students under your wing. I think it important that the generations stick together. Teach what you know to others. Learn it well. Don't let anyone fall behind. There are still Dark wizards out there-" Harry's stomach ached at the thought. But the class only reacted by turning to Malcolm Treeloft who rolled his eyes. Old habits died hard. "Not Treeloft anymore," he said with a laugh. "Thank goodness." And he winked at Malcolm's boyfriend Rupert Fenwick responsible for the Slytherin's turn of fate.

"So. What do you think? Sound good?"

"How would we go about it, sir?" asked Hudson.

"Well, I thought we'd practice in here and advertise it and use a spare period. Anyone can join. Once we got started, we'd discuss any problems or new spells during this period."

"Won't we be learning anything new this year?" asked Fenwick.

"Oh yes. Certainly. But really, you have no idea how advanced you already are. You are far more advanced than when I was at Hogwarts."

They all looked at one another a bit awed.

Harry smiled. "From my own experience, I felt that we should be further along. I had quite a few setbacks when I attended school. We had a new Defense teacher every year with no continuity. In my fifth year we had none at all."

Rosencrantz slipped to the edge of her seat. "That's when you taught your Dumbledore's Army, didn't you?"

He scratched his messy hair. "How did you know that?"

The whole class groaned. "Really, Professor," sighed Jane Grittney, the plump Hufflepuff girl. "It's in Hogwarts: A History. Professor Binns made us read it."

"It's in there already?"

"It is a magical book, after all, Professor."

"Oh yes. Of course." Harry didn't want to admit that he hadn't known until quite recently that the book updated itself every year. He really would have to read it someday.

"Everyone up, then. And partner with someone. That's right." The students rose and wandered toward their friends. Harry waved his wand and the desks and chairs slid against the wall, leaving a large empty space in the middle of the room.

"We'll observe the rules of engagement first," he said, his mind unwillingly returning to that graveyard in Little Hangleton so many years ago when Voldemort foolishly gave Harry back the only advantage he had: his wand. "In a formal duel, we approach our opponent, bow, and then pace off away from one another. Go on, then."

He watched as his students complied. Harry shook his head slightly. When had he ever dueled in this infuriatingly formal way except as a school assignment? The students had done their bowing and were now positioned to fight. "All right. In a formal duel, each takes their turn with a spell or hex. We'll just proceed with that for five minutes. Go!"

Hexes flew across the room. Harry watched at a safe distance as each performed their spells. They truly were all very accomplished and he couldn't help a surge of pride that he had taught them. It was quite the best feeling, really. It did indeed recall his days teaching Dumbledore's Army. And if he hadn't done that he wouldn't be at Hogwarts now. Funny how things worked out.

After a few minutes he called a halt to it all and the students turned to look at him. "Well, it looks like you've all learned the basics and that's fine. But you don't really suppose that I defeated Voldemort in a nice formal duel, do you?" The class fell absolutely still. Wasn't this what they had been waiting for? Real information for the real world? Harry felt his scar twinge again and resisted the urge to rub it. Yes, they were going to need practical tools because the threats never really stopped.

He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and incanted nonverbally. The room instantly changed to a rocky hillside complete with foliage and boulders. The class gasped. "No, we haven't apparated anywhere. It's still the Defense classroom, but I wanted to give you a more realistic setting. I will take two pairs to begin. You two," he said pointing to Treeloft and Fenwick, "and you," gesturing with his wand to Hudson and Rosencrantz. "The ladies will be Dark Witches and the boys, the side of the Light." Everyone laughed nervously. "Now. This isn't about polite bows and taking turns. It's about survival. The Dark Witches want to take over Wizarding kind and the Light will try to stop them. That means by any means possible. Do you understand that? Any means. Except, of course, the Unforgivables. Please don't kill your fellow students," he said with a grin, but no one laughed. Harry's face sobered.

Slowly, he began to speak. "I must tell you, that I fully intend to teach you Unforgiveables this year." The class gasped again. "I thought long and hard about it and discussed it in depth with Albus Dumbledore. We usually do not try to teach Dark magic to our students here at Hogwarts. We try to discourage its use, in fact. But the reality is, that there are evil forces in the world that do not fear to use these curses and it would be foolish to send you forth without arming you." His face darkened with intensity and he stared at every one of them. "But I will give you this warning only once. If I ever hear of any of you using these curses against your fellow man for your own ends, I will stop at nothing to put an end to it. Even if that means stopping you for good." Silence enveloped the class. No one moved. Harry's eyes looked at each student in turn. Who really knew what was behind their eyes? He had stopped Malcolm and was glad of it, but what of the others? Harry's life growing up was almost as miserable as Tom Riddle's had been. But Riddle had turned to the Dark side while Harry remained in the Light. Human nature was still a puzzle. But he knew he would not allow another Dark wizard to rise from amongst his students. Never. Even if he had to kill them himself.

"Now then," he said quietly, breaking the crushing silence. "Let's begin, shall we? And please. Remember these are your fellow students. Nothing that will do permanent damage, all right?"

The four nodded and the others stepped back out of the way, some even nudging behind some boulders.

They began.

* * *

Looking back on it, Harry realized that this was possibly the best lesson he had ever given. There had been tears and bruises, but when the final quartet had had their fight, no one said a word, no one made a move to leave, even though the bell had rung. They sat in a silent circle around him and he suddenly felt a little like Albus Dumbledore…or Merlin with Arthur at his feet.

He spoke quietly, gently to them. "You all did so well. I'm very proud of you. I wanted you to see. I wanted you to experience firsthand-before you truly had to-what it was like in a life or death struggle. So that when faced with the possibility, you might think twice. I don't know where life will lead you all. I hope it will never be a Dark path-" and here the students all shook their heads vigorously-"but one can never be certain," Harry went on. "It's not fun and games. It's real. And the good guys don't always win. Sometimes they die, too."

He paused, looked at them all again, and quietly said, "Class dismissed."

Subdued, they rose and without speaking, silently filed out. Harry collapsed on the edge of his desk and lowered his head.

"Do you think that was wise?" asked the familiar voice behind him, startling him.

He twisted around to look at Draco. "They had to know."

Draco stepped slowly down each riser until he stood facing Harry. "Are you looking for an army again?"

Harry nodded. "I might be. Or at least, I hope to head off a Dark one."

Draco shrugged. "Perhaps you just did. Or…perhaps you just gave the wrong person the ammunition they needed."

"No," he said shaking his head. He rubbed his scar. "It's not any of them."

Draco's eyes widened for a moment, then returned to normal. "Is it…do you feel something?"

Harry gave a half-smile. "There's someone out there. But he's not close. He's…no. She's not in England."

"She?"

That was the first time Harry realized it and knew it was true. He didn't know how he knew but he was certain. It was a witch and she wasn't in England. She was somewhere in Europe. Somewhere north. He looked at Draco. "I may have to go soon."

Draco's throat rolled as he swallowed. "So soon?"

Harry nodded, feeling his fear. "I can't let her get as bad as Voldemort. I won't."

Draco's grey eyes bored into his with fiery glints from the candle flames. He leaned over and gently touched his lips to Harry's. "Then don't."


On to Chapter Four
"Adventures in Babysitting"

Back to Chapter Two
"The Rising"

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