Lentesco

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Lentesco – Chapter Five



A month had gone by since Harry had considered his relationship with Ginny and what he felt about sex.



As a healthy young male he pleasured himself regularly, trying not to imagine a dark stern voice that was like silk over mahogany, trying not to fantasise about slender, skilled fingers that knew just how to touch him, and trying desperately not to be gay.



He was wondering if being an Auror was really what he wanted to do with his life – he had faced down the most evil wizard of modern times, didn’t he deserve a break from danger? He had tried to subtly suggest to Kingsley that he wasn’t sure, but the other was only interested in the progress he was making, and the coup he’d pulled off by having Harry Potter join his team.



Which worried him. Harry didn’t want to be anyone’s symbol or pawn any longer, and that was what he was feeling from Kingsley. He knew he could deliberately fail his lessons, so they’d have to kick him out, but somehow he doubted that Shacklebolt would let him go so easily, and he’d be passed but never on active duty. He wondered what on earth he could do if he didn’t become an Auror. He didn’t want to play Quidditch professionally; he felt that he should do something more worthwhile with his life, yet didn’t want to do something as worthwhile as become an Auror.



I’m seriously messed up. Harry thought. He wondered who he could speak to for advice. Suddenly he had an idea and stood up, searching for parchment and quill. He found both and settled down to write his letter.



Once it was finished, which took him longer than he had expected, he read it over, and nodded, satisfied with its contents. He called his owl Cliodna to him. “Good girl,” he said stroking her soft brown breast feathers, “take this, please, and wait for an answer, ok?”



She hooted reassuringly and, taking the letter, flew out of the open window.



Harry didn’t have long to wait. Cliodna returned that night, around midnight. Harry hurriedly got out of his bed (wiping his sticky hands on his pyjama bottoms) and carried her to her perch and gave her a treat before he unrolled the parchment. He read it and smiled.



The following morning he showered and dressed with more than his usual care. He quickly scribbled a note and asked Cliodna to take it to London - after all, if he was going to miss a day’s training, he had to at the very least tell them - before stepping out into the bright winter sunshine, and walking slowly up to the great gates that denoted the start of the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.



A familiar figure was emerging from the forest, near the edge of the grounds. “Hagrid!” Harry cried, a genuine smile lighting his face for what felt like the first time in months.



“Harry!” the half giant yelled and hurried over to greet him.



Walking with Hagrid, Harry felt the years melt away. He could once again have been an eleven year old, asking the other who Nicolas Flamel was, or trying to find a polite way to refuse one more rock cake. The walk to the castle was far too short for Harry, lost as he was in the past.



“Go on in,” Hagrid said, pushing Harry gently, and nearly tripping the younger man, “I go’ work ter be gettin’ on with.” He watched the other go into the building before he turned away and tramped back to the forest.



A stern faced witch was waiting for Harry in the entrance hall, and instinctively he mentally checked his pockets for any forbidden items. Professor McGonagall had aged since the war, or perhaps during it, and to Harry’s adult eyes looked frail. Yet there was still strength and kindness in the wrinkled face. An odd something was in the woman’s eyes as she moved forward and held out her hand to him in greeting.



“Mr Potter,” she said, formally. “I suggest we retire to the Head teacher’s study, where all has been made ready for your visit.”



The odd distance in her manner made Harry pause. What had changed so in the past years that she treated him like a stranger? Whatever the cause, she wasn’t giving him time to think as she bustled off and he obediently fell into step behind her. As he walked, he found himself twisting this way and that, searching for someone he expected to see. But there was no one, and Harry didn’t understand what the weird aching in his heart was.



McGonagall gave the password for the study and pointed Harry on. She stayed at the bottom of the staircase.



The room was almost as Harry had remembered it. The paintings were there. There were again odd instruments, but different ones to Dumbledore’s, and the big desk. His heart hurt with loss.



“Ah, Harry, you wished to speak to me?” a too familiar voice said, and Harry’s throat closed over.



He nodded, unable to speak, taking in Albus Dumbledore’s portrait.



“I must say,” the picture went on, “I am most intrigued as to what you feel this old man could help you with.”



Harry gained control of himself with difficulty. “Sir, I … I wanted your advice. I d-don’t think I want to be an Auror. B-but what else can I d-do?”



Albus scratched his nose and seemed to settle before speaking. “A great problem, Harry. I can see that perhaps being an Auror isn’t quite the right profession for you. And I feel you’d want to do something of worth?” He saw the other nod then went on, knowing certain things that Harry didn’t, “Perhaps, have you considered … teaching?”



The younger man opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.



“An excellent goldfish impression, Harry,” Dumbledore said smiling, “I take it that the thought has not occurred to you?”



He shook his head. “No, it has,” he admitted, “but I’d want to teach Defence and, well, Snape’s doing that now, isn’t he?”



“Indeed he is.” Albus agreed, “and, despite having wanted the job for years, he is hating every minute of it. Sometimes that which we most want is just the worst possible thing for us.” His blue eyes were serious, and for a moment Harry was sure Dumbledore was referring to something other than teaching, although what he had no idea.



“If I ensured a letter inviting you to apply for the post reached you, would you consider it?”



Harry thought. His heart felt light at the thought of being back at Hogwarts, at the thought of seeing him everyday. He asked himself just who him was.



He nodded. “Yes, sir.”