The Little Lightning Girl

27- A War Hero Teaches Us How To Be Happy

The Monday following my return to Quidditch, I was quite surprised when I walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts to find someone else sitting at Professor Lupin's desk. Teddy Lupin had been made DADA professor a month into the second half of term when the last one suddenly quit. I couldn't help but be quite upset that it wasn't Professor Mossear who'd quit. The woman had to be given some credit for her persistence and resilience. 

But Teddy... I knew a lot about the young professor before I even set eyes on him, my source: James. James had told me all about his god-brother while we suffered during the capture. About his metamorphagus abilities he'd inherited from his mother, and the werewolf symptoms from his father. No, he wasn't a fully werewolf, but come every full moon, the pain of a werewolf transformation hit the young man and he usually ended up screaming or passing out. He'd done so all his life. I knew that when he was sixteen and James was a first year at Hogwarts, Teddy Lupin had rescued his brother from detention not once or twice, but seventeen times. I knew that he was particularly skilled in jinxes and that the prank wars between him and the Potter siblings had been legendary.

I knew all about our blue-haired genius professor. But he didn't know that I knew, and I figured it would be an invasion of privacy if I revealed how much James had told me. Teddy had been in the midst of traveling the world after finishing his training to become a teacher when Mcgonagall had recruited him. Everyone loved Professor Lupin, even the Slytherins. He had a wicked sense of humor and didn't play favorites to Hufflepuff, even though it was his house. But it wasn't the blue-haired twenty-something man sitting in the DADA room this Monday. Instead, a familiar dark-haired man had taken his place. I knew who he was immediately. James's father, Harry Potter. Rumor had it that Harry often returned to Hogwarts to give a lesson or two in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I'd never been privy to this experience myself.

I wasn't the first student to enter the class, as we Gryffindors shared with the Ravenclaws and one or two of them were always ridiculously early. But with whatever keen senses the dark-wizard catcher possessed, he knew me the moment I walked in the room. I'd not taken five steps into the room when the great Harry Potter glanced up from his book and nodded at me.

I just flashed the man a small smile and took a seat between Rose and Kaley, as I always did. They both, of course, knew who he was. Rose had practically been brought up in his house, as her family had almost always been collapsed into the Potter's while she'd been growing up. She went so far as to run up and give him a hug before seating herself. But to the rest of the kids in this room, Harry Potter was a celebrity.

So as they all filtered into the room and realized who the temporary teacher was, half of the students were gossiping like mad and the other half had gone silent.

When everyone was seated, Harry stood from the desk chair and silence fell. He slowly walked out from behind the desk and leaned on it, his wand loosely held in his right hand and his left shoved in the pocket of his robes. He smiled onto the group of students, "Welcome to class, fourth years. My name is Harry Potter, it's my great pleasure to take over your Defense Against the Dark Arts class for a day while Mr. Lupin is taking a much needed break from all your nonsense."

A smattering of laughter filtered through the room, but most of the students remained silent and staring at the legend in front of them.

"Back in my day at Hogwarts, I taught a whole group of students about Defense magic when I was a fifth year. It isn't the thing I'm most well known for, but I'm quite proud of it. And as I loved it so much, Professor Mcgonagall allows me to pop into Hogwarts every now and then. But enough about me, let's talk about you lot.

Harry pulled himself from his leaning position and began walking forward, down the aisle created by separated desks. His lightning bolt scar was practically on display, the way his hair was swept back off his face. I could see so many other scars on his hands and his face and neck, too many to count. Of course, Harry's real job as an Auror was as dangerous a profession as a wizard could get, scars were a mild side effect. His emerald green eyes, just like Albus's and Lily's swept over the students as he walked.

"What do you know about Patronuses?"

I knew what they were, but I rather wanted to hear Harry talk about them. I'd been filled with such darkness as of late that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to cast a spell that was joy taken form. But Harry hadn't had a happy childhood, and if he knew how to produce a patronus after all of the things he'd gone through... maybe I could learn too.

Slowly though, a Ravenclaw girl raised her hand, "It's a spell to get rid of dementors, Mr. Potter."

He frowned appreciatively, "What's your name?"

She shrank back in her chair, "Vera Clearwater, sir."

"Well, thank you Miss Clearwater, you're correct, or at least partially. Any one else want to give it a shot? Expand on her answer?"

No one spoke out, so Harry spoke, "Right then. A Patronus is indeed a spell to get rid of a dementor, that is true. But in order to cast that spell, you need to know what a Patronus is made of."

"What do you mean, made of?" Isaiah Jones said, sitting up front with several other Gryffindor boys, "sir, it's just made of magic."

"Not quite. Magic created the patronus, you have magic in you, but a Patronus is not made of magic. Please, observe."

Harry held up his wand, flourished it, and said clearly, "Expecto Patronum."

From the tip of his wand, a brilliant silver stag burst, landing on the floor in front of him. Gasps rang though the room. Harry gave us several moments to admire the stag before he vanished it with a wave of his wand and turned to us, "A Patronus is happiness. That's precisely why when you say the incantation, you must simultaneously think of the happiest, most powerful memory you have."

He smiled at us, "You'll want to have a go at it now."

I took my wand out from my sleeve and paused. What was my happiest memory? I'd spent so much time lately thinking about unhappy ones that I could easily pick out the worst of those, but what was my happiest memory?

Harry had come over to our desk and stood in front of me, "What makes you happy, Alana?"

I looked up at him, "I... I don't know. It's been a long time since I've felt that kind of joy."

He nodded in understanding and sat on a chair in front of my desk, "Time doesn't matter, you see. The only thing that matters is how it made you feel. The memory I first used for this spell... I didn't even know if it was real, still don't."

"But it worked for you?" I asked, leaning forward.

He nodded, "Yes it did. Alana, it's easy to get caught up in bad memories, and sometimes it feels like you'll never be truly happy again. I've felt like that before. But you're the one who gets to decide how you feel."

With that, Harry stood, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder before he walked to the next desk over. I supposed if anyone knew about getting through hard times and learning to be happy again, it was Harry Potter.