The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…..by Samayel

Chapter 2: Fade To Black

Harry brushed down his somewhat unruly hair, frowning at the faint streaks of gray at his temples. He wasn’t particularly vain, and never had been, but it was still a surprise some days to look in the mirror and find a grown man approaching his middle years staring back at him, blinking owlishly from behind a pair of round glasses. He was a handsome enough fellow, after a fashion, and still nearly fit enough to be half his age, but the man in the mirror was still vaguely unfamiliar at times.

This first week of school had gone well enough, and he was still sorting out who among his students would require a bit more help and who needed little more than praise. Such was a teacher’s life, scrambling to fit the challenges to the students, hoping that each got the most from their time at Hogwarts, and from his own classes in particular.

Students still often found DADA to be the most ‘fun’ class of any day, and it grieved Harry every time a harsh grade had to be delivered. There were few things more unpleasant than watching students fail despite the help they could be given, and he dreaded the end of every year, when OWLs and NEWTs were assessed and final grades handed out. The beginning of each year, however, was another matter, and it always started cheerily, with the Sorting Feast and fresh new faces. His mornings might still be marred by his need for drink each night, but with a Hangover Remedy at his nightstand, Harry was ready to face each day and extract from life the few, small pleasures he could find for himself.

There was a curt rap at his suite door, and Harry recognized its tone immediately. Only Neville ever knocked that way. Some might have thought that his professionalism made him stuffy and conceited, but Harry knew that Neville’s formality came from a deep desire to do the best job he could, and to honor those that had done his job in years past. Harry straightened his robes and made for the door, opening it with a relaxed smile.

“Neville, good morning. All’s well, I hope? Didn’t expect to see you until breakfast.”

Neville Longbottom nodded yes, and smiled back. Professional relationship aside, Harry was a better friend than most, and there was a certain informality between them even now, years after the events of the war.

“Nothing so terrible, Harry. Just a short early meeting with the Headmistress. Thought I’d pop in on my way and tell you myself. We’re gathering in the staff meeting room ten minutes before breakfast. No bad news that I’m aware of, just a brief on a late transfer student. Always tricky to slip one in after the start of year, but it happens now and again. I’m off…see you there soon enough, right?”

“Aye. Thanks, Nev. See you there. Almost ready now anywise.”

Neville was hurrying off to prep the staff room, and Harry fiddled with his hair and robes just a bit more, still feeling out of place in professor’s robes after fifteen years. Some days, like today, it was hard was hard to believe he’d ever been a wide-eyed little boy, wandering the halls and being spooked by ghosts and staff alike, and it was equally hard to believe that he had found himself a home here, even if everyone else simply thought of him as Professor Potter.

He’d surprised himself by becoming comfortable with rising early, and despite lounging abed as a teen, he rather liked waking early in the day anymore. The walk to the staff room was eerily quiet at this hour, but in a few minutes the first students would be hurrying to the Great Hall for their breakfast. Ron Weasley joined Harry at the corner hall as they made their way from Gryffindor tower to the meeting, a welcome arrival as always.

“Heya, Harry! Can’t believe we’ve got another meeting already. Only had one the day before yesterday and here we are all over again. ‘Summat about a new student, right?”

“Yeah. That’s all I got from Neville as well. Must’ve come up spur of the moment for Minerva to pull us all in today like this. Probably another pureblood from off the continent. They love a flashy, late entrance and a lot of fuss attached to their arrival. Load of codswallop if you ask me, but there you have it. Either way, Hogwarts is like your family…there’s always room for one more. Right, mate?”

“Smartass! True ’nuf though. Can’t blame anyone for finishing here. Still the best school in the world for my money. C’mon! With Potter and Weasley on the job, who’d let their kid miss out on a four-star education?”

Harry smirked mildly. Ron had changed very little over the years, even though he was a bit beefier than he’d been in school and his hair was just beginning to thin a bit at the temples. He’d spent almost seven years playing professional Quidditch for the Chudley Cannons, and even though he’d spent his first four years on the second string and changed positions three times, he’d stuck at it until he’d had a good season all around. After leading the league in his final year as a Keeper, Ron accepted the Flight Instruction and Quidditch Referee slot at Hogwarts and retired from professional Quidditch almost instantly. It was largely because it would have been hard to follow up with a second year as good as that last one, and Ron had really wanted to be remembered at his best. Quidditch was a young person’s game, and at twenty-four, Ron hadn’t had all that many good seasons left. He’d proven himself in every way he needed to, and that was good enough for him.

He was still boisterous and good natured, smarter than he let on, loyal to a fault, and Harry’s best friend besides. He’d married Hermione the year after he’d made the Cannons’ lineup, but the Weasley family had been forced to hold their breath in anticipation of grandchildren. Hermione had been taking advanced courses in Magical Theory for several years after the war, and now worked for the Ministry when she wasn’t lecturing on the subject. None of this had stopped them from finally having five children when the time was right, but Ron’s oldest daughter wouldn’t be starting at Hogwarts until next year. Ron was the only staff member who took the Floo home each night, adamantly refusing to be parted from his family for more than a single night, and even on those rare occasions he complained mightily and slept poorly. Like his father, he was a family man through and through, and Harry had to admire Ron’s complete devotion to his loved ones.

Sometimes he felt a hint of jealousy, but it was quickly washed under by years of laughter and good times, and by the knowledge that there was another place besides the Burrow where he was welcomed anytime. Of course, it meant being up to his knees in red-headed godchildren, but that was hardly a fate worse than death. While Ron had a suite maintained for him at Hogwarts, with a limited Floo connection so he could travel home easily, Harry lived at Hogwarts year round, visiting his friends most weekends, and enjoying the knowledge that his dearest friends were genuinely happy and healthy.

Routine staff meetings had been a creation of Minerva’s, and Harry approved in general. Sometimes they were a trifle redundant, passing along information that might just as easily have been sent in notes or by word of mouth, but the idea had been to foster a sense of unity amongst the staff, keeping the old house rivalries down to a minimum. It was a worthy notion, and it had to be admitted that it had worked for the most part. Careful hiring had guaranteed that the staff was thoroughly professional and worked well together, and regular group communication with their Headmistress kept everyone feeling equally valued. Despite her deep and abiding love for her own house, Minerva MacGonagall had answered the call of necessity as a leader, and in the aftermath of the war, a time of healing was needed, closing the breach of trust that had crippled Hogwarts long ago. Still, the tedium of meetings was nothing that one looked forward to, even if one approved of the purpose behind them.

The meeting room was just ahead, and Harry and Ron quickened their pace and adopted an air of formality, trying their level best to remember that they were no longer unruly students being dressed down for misbehavior, but rather gentlemen of substance and quality, attending a meeting of their peers. Most of the others had already gathered, and were nattering in small groups while sipping strong, early morning tea. Even the new medi-wizard, Master Prewett, a second cousin to Molly Weasley, was in attendance, since his ward hadn’t yet dealt with anything worse than the occasional tummy bug.

Minerva MacGonagall was in the corner near the head of the table, prim and unruffled as ever, even though twenty years had turned her hair to snowy white and lined her features a bit more as well. She was facing the rest of the room, concentrated entirely on the person in front of her, whose back was turned to Harry. It was obviously a young man, with short, cropped blond hair and a posture that hinted at irritation as well a faint whiff of arrogance. Too likely it was their new arrival, fresh from the continent with privilege in his past. The wealthy purebloods had calmed a bit after the war, but children of wealth and substance were usually a bit more difficult to deal with…at least in Harry’s experience. Minerva’s eyes caught his arrival, and she lifted her chin before addressing him crisply.

“Ah, Professor Potter, how timely. I should like to introduce you to our newest arrival. Please make the acquaintance of Draco, Lord Malfoy.”

The young man turned while Harry’s heart thundered in his ears. Steel gray eyes met his own, and Harry stared at the handsome face of his dead lover, mourned for fifteen years in secrecy. It was impossible to breathe, and Harry’s world spun and twisted, just before it turned to black.

TBC!