Whispers of a Raven by TheBlack'sResurgence

Chapter 16

At no point during the last several years did Harry envision that he would see the inside of the castle again, let alone be teaching in the very same classroom that his own journey in Defence Against the Dark Arts had begun.

They had been much simpler days, days where his concerns mounted to little more than completing homework, playing chess with Ron and maybe finding himself caught up in a misadventure of sorts.

How life had changed. And as he pondered such, he could not fathom how he had survived up this point. He should have been killed many times over.

He ignored the wave of cold magic that swept over him as it had been doing over the past few days, a stark reminder that his dreams were more than just that.

Whatever the cloaked figure had done to him was very real. Where there had once been a lingering warmth to his magic, there was no longer so. Only the cold remained but it felt oddly right. Whatever the figure had done, the magic now felt that it belonged to him. Just him.

Where before he could often feel conflict within himself from the merging souls, there was none any longer. Ever since he had first passed through the veil, he felt whole; his mind, soul and magic now one.

It was a feeling one would be hard-pressed to explain, but Harry understood it. Before he had come here, he would often question his impulsive decisions after the event and knew he had at times been rash and foolish. Had that been Riddle's soul urging him in directions he would not take under normal circumstances? Or had it been him?

Harry knew not and he did not wish to dwell on such thoughts. Those days were very much behind him and he would not try to comprehend magic that even the keenest minds would struggle to understand.

No, his focus needed to be on the here and now, the things that were much more important to him than his past actions and where his own journey had begun.

Somehow, he had been charged with educating the students seated in front of him and blessed with a beautiful and patient woman that knew less about him than she deserved.

Narcissa was worried about him, and why wouldn't she be?

His episode had been unexpected and remained unexplained. He would often catch her eying him with concern, and he had no words to reassure her. How could he explain that he often convenes with a cloaked figure claiming to be Death? How could he tell her that this place had not always been his home? How could he explain to her everything that he had experienced and endured throughout his life?

He couldn't, not everything at least. She did, however, deserve something and he had spent his waking moments since that night pondering just what he could tell her.

He did not wish his married life to begin being built on a lie, yet, he could not give her the whole truth.

He shook his head of those thoughts as his wand vibrated in his hand, signalling that time was up for the third-year students he had administered a quiz to. He needed to understand what knowledge on the curriculum they had and devise lessons to fill any gaps.

Fortunately for them, they had two years before they would sit their OWLs, considerable time to catch up on anything missed. The fifth and seventh years did not have such an advantage, and their lessons would need to be more structured.