Do You Believe in Miracles?

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Professor Dumbledore is My Brother

The clock struck midnight when Harry finished telling Ron and Hermione what had happened in Dumbledore’s office. Harry returned from the older man’s office to find the common room vacated with the exception of his two best friends. Two hours and at least one hundred questions later, he finally told the pair about his renewed Occlumency lessons.

“Harry, I thought Professor Snape said you were done with Occlumency last year?” Hermione asked.

Harry tried hard to keep the rising resentment out of his voice, and failed miserably. “Yeah, well it seems we were both wrong, doesn’t it?”

He bit his lip in regret when he saw Hermione’s abashed face. Guilt washed over him when he thought about lying to Ron and Hermione over why his Occlumency lessons had stopped in the first place, but his adventure into Snape’s Pensieve was not one of his favourite memories.

“Besides, Dumbledore said he’d be there, so I don’t have to worry about it.”

Hermione furrowed her brow as if in thought. “Dumbledore’s really going to be there? I mean, he’s a busy man to spend that much time observing.”

“He just said, ‘You won’t be alone with him'.” Harry shrugged.

Remembering his OWLs letter and the package Dumbledore gave him, he ignored Hermione’s sceptical glance and removed them from his robes. He carefully opened the envelope, and removed the parchment to read the elegant dark blue writing.

“What’s that, mate?” Ron asked, stealing a glance over Harry’s shoulder.

“My OWLs results. Dumbledore said they couldn’t post them because they didn’t want them to fall into the wrong hands.”

“I never even thought of that!” exclaimed Hermione. “We got ours in late July; I can’t believe I never asked you about them at the Weasleys'!”

Harry shrugged again. It was all the same to him. If they had asked, Harry would have only felt more isolated. He opened the package Dumbledore had given him. Taking out a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making: An Art and A Science by Driggleby Weathers, Harry’s jaw dropped. He stared incredulously at the book. Why would he need an advanced potions book? Unless…?

“Go on, Harry!” said Ron. “Read the letter.”

Dear Mr. Potter,

Enclosed are the results from your Ordinary Wizarding Levels Examinations.

Grade Summary:

Passing Grades Failing Grades
O = Outstanding P = Poor
E = Exceeds Expectations D = Dreadful
A = Acceptable T = Troll

Final Results
Astronomy = A
Care of Magical Creatures = E
Charms = E
Defence Against the Dark Arts = O
Divination = P
Herbology = A
History of Magic = D
Potions = O
Transfiguration = E

The Ministry would like to thank you for your efforts.

Sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Minister of Magic

Harry stared at the parchment in disbelief. There had to be a mistake…. Could he really have gotten seven OWLs and an Outstanding in Potions?!

He leaned back against the soft comfort of his favourite common room chair and ran a hand through his frazzled hair. Ron snatched the letter from Harry’s hand, and he and Hermione read it over with nearly as much attention as Harry himself.

Hermione reacted first, jumping up and embracing Harry in a bone-crushing hug.

“Harry, great job! I’m so proud of you!” she squealed.

Ron’s arm clapped Harry’s shoulder. “Yeah, good job, mate. An ‘O’ in Potions, who’d have thought?”

“Not me,” Harry muttered. He and Ron began to chuckle at the irony while Hermione scowled at them.

“Ronald, you could have gotten an ‘O’ too if you had put forth the effort!”

Ron stared at her incredulously. “Hermione, I got an ‘E' - a bloody ‘Exceeds Expectations’ - in Potions! I’m not complaining!”

Harry had to admit he was impressed. He always did poorly in Potions whenever Snape was around, but Ron had never understood Potions on any level and an ‘E’ surely exceeded any of their expectations.

“Besides,” continued Ron, “now I don’t have to deal with that greasy git for another two years.”

“I thought you wanted to be an Auror?” Hermione asked.

“Well, I did,” Ron said, “but I’ve decided I’d rather play professional Quidditch, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Harry stifled a yawn as his friends argued. It was getting really late, and his body ached with exhaustion. Hermione seemed to notice, and soon sent them off to bed. Harry’s eyes immediately closed to another restless night’s sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Breakfast the following morning was a tense affair. Every sixth year Gryffindor had been called into McGonagall’s office, where the woman spent the hour going over class schedules and OWL grades with every student. Hermione was immediately cleared for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmancy, and the girl rushed off for an early morning Arithmancy class.

Professor McGonagall was pleased to enrol Harry in Defence, Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms--all the subjects, in short, for an Auror. Harry’s face flushed when she praised him for his grades, and reminded him to keep them up in his NEWTs courses. The end of their conversation, however, shocked Harry.

“Mr. Potter, you should know your Quidditch ban has been revoked. As you well know, Katie Bell is now the senior member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I have offered her the captaincy this term, but she has turned it down in favour of her NEWTs studies. As the next senior members are yourself and Mr. Weasley, I would like to offer you the opportunity as well.”

Harry blinked. Harry Potter, Quidditch captain? He loved Quidditch with every fibre of his being, but could he really be a captain?

“Professor, I’m really sorry, but I think I’m going to have to turn it down, too. I mean, I’ve got a full schedule this year, and Dumbledore wants me to head a Defence Club, and I just don’t think I can do it on top of everything else.” Like Occlumency, he added silently. “I think you should give Ron the job. He’s- he’s really good with strategy and stuff, such as chess and all.”

“Professor Dumbledore, Potter,” she lightly chided. “However, I understand your concerns and if you believe Mr. Weasley would do a thorough job, I will offer him the position.”

“I do, Professor.” Harry gave a small smile. He knew Ron would be thrilled, and Harry truly thought his best friend deserved it. Besides, Harry could not imagine himself as captain. He pictured himself giving one of Oliver Wood’s famous pre-game speeches and nearly laughed at the thought.

“Very well, Mr. Potter. Do mind that you make it to your first class on time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry entered the extremely familiar Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The room was hardly decorated, yet sophisticated. There were no pink frilly curtains, or creatures in cages. The windows were opened wide to let in a cool fall breeze and the desks were arranged in a semicircular fashion around the blackboard.

Taking a seat next to Hermione, Harry watched as his fellow students took in the new classroom. Sixth year classes held students from all Houses, and Harry noticed each House was already accounted for.

“Hey, guys!” Ron panted, finally catching up with the pair after his advisement. “Guess who’s Quidditch captain this year?” he exclaimed, pointing to the silver badge alongside his Prefect’s badge.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Congratulations, Ron!”

“Yeah, mate,” added Harry. “You deserve it.” Harry gave him a warm smile.

“Thanks, thought for sure it’d have been you, though.”

Harry chose not to inform him how close he’d come to having the position, before the office door opened wide.

The class quieted down as their teacher made his way into the classroom. His hair was white like the Headmaster’s, only it fell just past his ears, and his eyes were the same startling electric blue. The man sported a trimmed beard, and dressed like no other teacher Harry had ever seen. He wore a red button-up shirt with orange flowers over a white Muggle tee shirt, a pair of khaki beach shorts and leather sandals. Harry rather thought the man looked like he had just Apparated from the beach before classes.

Quiet murmurs spread through the room as the class took in his unique appearance, but something about him struck Harry as appealing. His presence was strong, and warm, and Harry knew he would like the man.

“Welcome, class.” His voice was rough and deep, yet relaxing.

“My name is Aberforth Dumbledore, an’ I’ll be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. I know you’ve had a pretty rough go with your previous teachers, but I expect you all to work hard and keep up. I may not have defeated any famous Dark Lords like Albus, but I’d do well to remind you all who I grew up duelling with.”

His eyes grew warm and began to twinkle much like the Headmaster’s, only… more mischievously. Harry liked this man. He was real, competent--not a joke like their previous professors, excluding Lupin, of course.

“Now before we get started, I’ll just take attendance, eh?”

“Abbott, Hannah?”

Harry watched as each student’s name was called, the professor acknowledging them with a small nod of the head. Harry grew anxious as the man continued down the list. Defence teachers had a habit of doting on him, hating him, or trying to kill him from the moment they read his name on the roster.

“Potter, Harry?”

Harry raised a slightly shaky hand into the air, receiving a small nod in return. Harry’s stomach settled as he let out the breath he was unconsciously holding. A Defence teacher who treated him like any other student? That was definitely a new thing, and Harry was definitely glad for it.

The class jumped with a start as the classroom door burst open. The teacher had just finished calling out, “Thomas, Dean?” and was now looking fiercely at the intruder, wand in hand. Harry’s eyes widened when he noticed Snape standing in the doorway. He gasped along with many of his classmates as the foreboding man billowed into the classroom, dragging a still-exhausted-looking Draco Malfoy in his wake. Harry sighed. He was still rather shocked with Malfoy’s appearance, but it was hard to be arrogant with his arch nemesis when the boy looked so down.

“Lower your wand, Aberforth; I’m here to escort your pupil. If I had wished to attack, you would already be disarmed,” Snape drawled.

“Such confidence, Severus,” the older man chided sarcastically. “May I ask whom you’ve accompanied?”

Malfoy stepped out from behind Snape and met the man’s eyes. “Draco Malfoy, sir.” Harry shook his head. Even Malfoy’s voice had lost its arrogance.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy. Please take a seat.” Professor Dumbledore waved to a free seat between Blaise Zabini and Ernie Macmillan, and Malfoy made his way to sit down. The teacher stared at Snape, as though waiting for the man to say what he had come to say.

“You remember the circumstances, I presume?” Snape inquired.

“Quite,” he replied with a small smile. “Thank you, Professor Snape.”

Snape gave a curt nod and strode from the classroom in a dramatic fashion. Harry rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the teacher. Hermione shot her hand up.

“Yes? Miss Granger, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione replied. “Professor Dumbledore, I was just wondering if you could enlighten us to what we’ll be covering this year?”

“Ah,” the man chuckled. “First things first: Professor Dumbledore is my brother; you may call me Aberforth.” Hermione’s cheeks flushed. Harry grinned. He could imagine the confusion of two Professor Dumbledores and silently prayed that this one would not be as meddling and peculiar.

“As to your question, Miss Granger, this term we will be covering proper duelling, as well as offensive and defensive magic in dealing with Dark wizards and the notorious Death Eaters.” Excited and anxious whispers spread around the classroom. Harry smiled. Finally, a Defence teacher who would teach them something useful! Other than Lupin, of course, he added to himself.

Aberforth cleared his throat, and the class immediately fell silent.

“Now, I know you have all been informed we are at war. You may only be sixteen years old, but soon you will be of age and out in the real world. We are fighting a war that knows no age limit, against wizards who would not think twice about killing or torturing you because you are underage. You never know when a friend, a neighbour, or even a family member will turn on you and attack. That is the ugly and brutal truth. However, I will do my best to teach you to defend yourselves. If what I teach you this year saves just one life, I will consider my job successful.”

The class was solemn. Students stole distrustful glances at each other, most pointedly the Slytherins. It was no secret that several had Death Eater parents, and that many may choose or be forced to join their ranks themselves. Harry noticed Malfoy was particularly pale, his head down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Harry swallowed and looked back at his classmates.

What would they say if they knew the fate of the wizarding world was in Harry’s hands? Would they blame him for the death of loved ones? How many of them would die themselves before Harry could stop Voldemort? How many of them would live at all, if Harry failed?

Hermione seemed to notice Harry’s change in mood. She nudged him in the shoulder, mouthing the words, “What’s wrong?”

Harry shook his head and stared pointedly at his professor.

“I would also like to tell you,” Aberforth continued as though he had not sent the class swirling in depressed thoughts of the war, “that as Mr. Potter has consented to continue his infamous Defence Club, any student who participates in this club will receive extra credit in my class. I encourage each of you to attend regularly.”

“Now today, we will see how proficient your shield work is.” Several students protested and asked questions at once. They had not studied shield charms, even though it was part of the OWLs curriculum. Harry had been forced to learn it before the Third Task and had forgotten his classmates knew nothing about them. Aberforth put up a hand to calm the room, and continued with his explanation.

“I know you haven’t done this spell yet, but I believe you are all competent enough to perform it with a little practice. The incantation is ‘Protego,’ with the emphasis on the second syllable. The wand movement is a quick semicircle, starting at the top and moving clockwise. Form a circle in front of your desks and we’ll begin practising.”

The students moved quickly. It had been over a year since they had performed Defence work in a proper class setting, and they were all more than enthusiastic to do so.

“On three, I want each of you to attempt your spells. One…two…three!”

“Protego!” The class cried out the spell almost in unison. Harry smiled as a white shield erupted from the end of his wand. He looked around the room to notice Hermione and Malfoy both had the same results.

“Great try, everyone! Mr. Potter, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, excellent job, ten points each!”

In less than twenty minutes, the rest of the class had mastered the spell. They spent the remainder of the hour reviewing spells and curses from their past years. Everyone was chatting amicably when they were dismissed; for the first time since Lupin, they had a teacher who was actually going to teach.

Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door.

“Mr. Potter, a word, if you would, please.” Harry turned around to see Aberforth smiling at him.

“Go on, guys. I’ll meet you at lunch,“ he said, and Ron and Hermione made their way from the room.

Aberforth beckoned Harry into his office. Harry had known the office under each of his Defence teachers, and this was surely his favourite. The room had a warm glow to it, as if someone had set a permanent warming charm on the very stones. The ceiling mimicked an early sunset, and the walls were covered in seaside paintings and photographs. On a table by the largest window was a real life model of a beach. The miniature waves crashed quietly into the white sand and a Knut-sized crab scuttled along the shore. Harry smiled in fascination as the tiny palm trees blew as if in a real breeze.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” asked Aberforth, taking a place beside Harry to stare at the miniature paradise. “That’s where I live most of the time. Used to Floo in every morning to work in the Hog’s Head, and Floo home to sit on the beach every night. I couldn’t have asked for more,” he said, warmth and honestly radiating from his voice. “Now my wife Miranda watches the bar during the day so I can teach.”

“Wow,” Harry replied breathlessly. “It’s…incredible.”

“Well, I had to bring a little bit of home with me, since I won’t get to see it again until the holiday break. That’s not to say I regret it, however,” he added. “I like teaching, and I have no problems doing my brother such a favour.”

“You live in the tropics?”

“Yes, in the Caribbean Islands to be precise--gorgeous land, gorgeous weather, gorgeous people. Everything I could ask for.”

He returned and sat behind his desk. “Anyway, Mr. Potter, I have a proposition for you.” He motioned to the opposite chair, and Harry took a seat.

“My brother has asked me to teach you Advanced Defence this term, and I’d be more than happy to do so,“ he said bluntly.

Harry blinked. “A-Advanced Defence, sir? What does that mean for me, exactly?”

Aberforth gave a crooked smile. “Well, we would get together privately during your Tuesday and Friday free blocks. My classroom is free and already prepared for duelling. A few simple wards would ensure our privacy for the lessons. Does that sound alright with you?” he inquired.

Harry nodded.

“Well, we’d work in there, then,” Aberforth continued. “I would show you some of the more advanced spell work. We could try your hand at wandless magic--always useful in a tough situation when you might lose your wand--and work with a few Muggle defence techniques as well, particularly martial arts. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good, sir. When would we start?” Harry was eager to work with this man and finally learn something that he could use against Voldemort.

“Oh, I think this Friday would be as fine a time as any. How does one o’clock sound?”

“Sounds great, sir. Thank you," Harry replied. He gave the man a nod and made his way to the Great Hall. Perhaps this year would be better than he had thought. Although no one would rival Lupin, in Harry’s opinion, Aberforth at least seemed competent. Given the rising situation with the war, that fact was more important than ever.

To Be Continued…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author’s Note: A HUGE thanks to KitBaiu and ShadowSamurai, who keep my scattered thoughts in check; betas truly do not get the credit they deserve.

Comments and feedback are unbelievably appreciated.

Next week… NEWTs Potions and Occlumency lessons! Any predictions? :)