Defense

{3}

Harry watched the students at lunch the next afternoon, his classes all good and well still. Each of them seemed to be enjoying the class, and that was all that mattered to Harry. There were already talks of a trip to Hogsmeade that Saturday, and Harry imagined it as his first good opportunity to go and see if he could find someone. Just to talk, at first, he needed to ease into the whole dating scene again. Not that he'd ever been in it.

When Harry had been with Ginny, she had been the end-all for him. She'd loved him since she was ten, and Harry grew around to fancying her, but it never mattered when they fell in love... he just knew. While there wouldn't ever be anyone like Ginny, Harry imagined that he could love again. It was redundant, repetitive, obvious, but that's what happened when in love.

Pushing away the remainder of his meal, Harry returned to class with a nod to Neville and Hagrid. They'd been good friends to him all his life, though Hagrid had been more of a father than anything.

Still, Harry sat in his class and thought about everyone like he always did. There wasn't a day the war didn't plague him, or the choices that he made during it. There were also things he wouldn't ever regret.

Harry let the thoughts go, though, when he saw that students began to file in. Fifth years. He'd snuck in the Patronus Charm much against the curriculum since his first year teaching for the fifth years because that's when most of the people in Dumbledore's Army had learned it. The Ministry didn't really care he taught it, yet it was mostly because Hermione had argued the first time he got reprimanded that it was essential to young wizards to have that confidence.

With a smile on his face, Harry taught the class and asked about their first night back, wondering how they so quickly decided on Hogsmeade. It was only for the upper four years, of course, third years not heading into the town until it got later into their studies. That, unfortunately, Harry had been tasked with the first year he'd ever taught, and as expected the students had tried to pull a wall over his eyes, yet he'd been there, he knew the drill. No guardian signature, no attendance.

The upper years had seemed rather excited, too, and Harry wouldn't be the only teacher attending the town, it seemed.

The anticipation built up that whole week, making a few professors annoyed at the expecting students. Most did their work, however, and sooner than later it was finally Saturday.

The Great Hall was all hustle and bustle as students were preparing to leave and awaiting last-minute owls carrying small purses of the sickle-loans from their parents.

Harry just watched on as James unsurely looked back. Harry wanted to laugh because he was sure James was trying to convince him with his eyes to let him go. A shake of the head and the boy rolled his eyes, turning back to his friends.

Harry also looked at a placid Gryffindor, his blond hair right next to Rose's red as she babbled away into his ear. Rose was loved dearly by her uncle, and that also meant he knew she was a bit alone having no one her age to hang out with. So, of course, Harry was almost positive that the whole of her house was enamoured with her; with no choice whatsoever. And, sooner or later, he was sure as well that one Scorpius Malfoy would be under her constant doting. In that aspect, Rose was positively nothing like her father, yet she had been raised to be so, though so had Ron, funnily enough once he'd married Hermione. Scorpius wouldn't have a choice but to warm up, and sooner or later that would mean visits to Rose and the Weasley's... and that would bring Malfoy about.

Harry knew Ron would be putting a silenceing charm on himself. There would be no other way to execute being civil if the Malfoys did come around. Harry figured the polite Scorpius could use it... there weren't many students these days that he seemed to need to look over since the war had been much a while back. Most Hogwarts attendants now didn't suffer from the loss of a loved one, they all had families and good homes. That never meant there wasn't the occasional black sheep.