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Professor Monroe	By : Athey1024 Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 15727 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 25
Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter. This is a work of fanfiction and no profit is being made. It is a for-fun endeavor and no infringement is intended.

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AN: From first glance, this story appears to go AU during the summer after Goblet of Fire. However that is not entirely true – events prior to that were different from cannon as well and will be revealed as part of the story later on.

– –

Professor McGonagall climbed the slowly spinning spiral staircase and knocked tiredly on the large heavy door. A soft 'come in' was heard from the other side and she quickly pushed the door over and found herself in the chair opposite the Headmaster's desk. Said chair was, in her opinion, far too squashy, but it was Albus' office.

“So what's this about the Defense post? You say you've got a candidate?” she asked, getting directly to the point.

“Lemon Sherbet?” Dumbledore asked with a genial smile.

She gave a restrained sigh and politely declined.

“Fine then,” Dumbledore said setting the small bowl back down on the desk. “And right to the point, of course.”

“It's not like we have a lot of free time for pleasantries. Term begins in less than three weeks,” she pointed out. “And on top of my normal considerably summer duties that I take on because you usually spend the summer holidays focusing on your other responsibilities, I've also had to take on all this work with organizing the Order.”

“That it does. That it does,” Dumbledore said with a tired nod. “And I do usually have the summer months to focus on my duties to the Wizengamot and the ICW, but alas, even I have had to let them slide in favor of calling together the Old Lot, warding headquarters, and getting our old network of information back up and running... it has been a trying summer.”

“So have you really found a Defense professor? I was beginning to become seriously worried.”

“Ah, yes. So was I, actually. In fact, it was beginning to look like Cornelius was about to do something quite rash if I was not able to fill the post by the end of the week.”

“Rash? How so?” McGonagall asked, looking mildly worried. The Minister of Magic had already done a great many 'rash' and honestly stupid things over the course of that summer, ever since Harry Potter came back from where ever he disappeared to during the final task, and informed them all that You-Know-Who was back.

“It appears that he was making moves towards having one of his own people placed in the job under the guise of 'educational reform'. It was quite unsettling.”

“Good heavens. One of those sycophantic Ministry horrors, teaching? At Hogwarts?”

“Yes, quite. I must admit that I was becoming nearly desperate to find someone to fill the post, but none of my old contacts were interested in the post, and none of the Order members were in the position to take it either.”

Minerva huffed. “Of course not,” she said almost bitterly. “Only a fool would want the post. It's no secret that it's cursed.”

Albus gave her a look over the top of his glasses, but it had been a great many years since that look had phased Minerva McGonagall.

“So who is it, then?”

Dumbledore reached into one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a leather bound file. He opened it and pulled out several sheets of parchment and handed them over.

“His name is Maximilian Monroe.”

She skimmed over the sheet, frowning slightly. “I vaguely remember him. Quiet boy. Ravenclaw, as I recall it.”

Albus hummed and nodded. “He had very high marks, but as you said – he was quiet. Not many people knew him well. He had a muggle father, a witch mother who died when he was six, so he grew up primarily in the muggle world, isolated from magic until he came to Hogwarts. Aside from that, and his grades, I have found very little information about him. He basically vanished from most people's minds after graduation. He tells me that he traveled abroad – being a half-blood and with the war starting to grow violent as it was at the time, it wasn't entirely safe for him in Britain, so I can certainly understand this. He only just returned to Britain in early spring of this year, and got word of our need to fill the post about two weeks ago and contacted me.”

“And you've hired him, just like that?” Minerva asked.

“As I said... I may be somewhat desperate to avoid whatever alternative Cornelius would force upon us otherwise. I have done this initial background check and nothing seems out of place, but as I said, he's been traveling abroad and information is limited.”

“Oh, I hope this isn't another mistake,” Minerva heaved a sigh.

“We have few other alternatives,” Albus said gravely.

“I know, Albus. I know. It just seems like it's been one thing after another these last few years. I mean, the post has been cursed for decades, but it's been so much worse the last few years. And we should have seen it! We should have... noticed, or something. I fear we've been complacent. I've grown to expect incompetence and oddities from the Defense teachers, and I just ignored some of the signs. I mean, we should have paid more attention to Quirinus. I can't help but wonder sometimes if we had perhaps caught on early if we could have saved him...”

“You cannot punish yourself like this Minerva. We never could have guessed what was actually afflicting him. No one would have expected that he was possessed. I feared he had chosen to work for Voldemort, but I had no idea the extent of it...” Dumbledore shook his head sadly and sighed.

“Of course we all knew that Gilderoy was a fool and a fraud, but that was another case of being desperate for anyone to fill the post,” Minerva said bitterly, rolling her eyes. “Still, I never would have thought he'd attack any of the children... I knew he was incompetent, but I never thought he'd be dangerous.”

“Please, Minerva. You cannot go on like this.”

“No, Albus. We need to face facts. We have been negligent, and quite simply, the same student keeps paying the price for that negligence, each year. Harry Potter has nearly died every year that he has been here! That is just not right, Albus! Something is seriously wrong!”

“Yes, well unfortunately, Harry is just exceptionally good at getting himself involved in troublesome situations.”

Minerva scoffed and shook her head. “I just hope, for that boy's sake, that there's nothing wrong with this one. With You-Know-Who back and rebuilding his power, and now all this rubbish that Fudge and the Prophet are throwing about, Harry has enough stress in his life without having to worry about whether or not his Defense professor is secretly planning to kill him.”

– –

Harry followed the crowd of students into the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast and took in the majesty of the room with a small smile. The comfortable familiarity of the setting was only a small consolation, considering the amount of turmoil he still had bubbling through his head. It seemed as if things had been outrageously hectic the last few days – like it had been some insane roller coaster ride, and he'd just been trapped, riding the rails and not knowing when the next turn would come at him.

Being at the Order's headquarters and getting to see Sirius again had been nice, but not quite as welcoming as he'd hoped for. Sirius was bitter and obviously feeling the effects of being cooped up in his miserable childhood home. And there had been the ever-looming threat of his trial at the Ministry. A trial that he'd almost missed entirely, when Fudge went and changed the time without letting him know. He was fortunate the Mr. Weasley had gotten the message and rushed to the lower level when they did.

It was a relief that Harry had managed to get off on all charges in the end, but the way Dumbledore had basically ignored him, refused all eye contact, and darted from the room as soon as things were over with, had been very unsettling.

The ride on the Hogwarts Express had even been awkward, what with Ron and Hermione now being prefects and having to disappear off to their meeting, only to leave Harry behind with Neville and that odd girl, Luna. Then when they'd arrived at Hogsmeade Station and prepared to board the carriages, Harry had been faced with the horrific sight of the leather-skinned, blackened skeletal winged-horses. Winged-horses that neither Ron nor Hermione could see. Luna's insisting that she saw them too, and Harry was just as sane as she was, was very little comfort at all, in the end.

The presence of a Professor Grubbly-Plank to guide the first-years, instead of Hagrid had been a source for some unsettled discussion during the ride back while they speculated on where their games keeper might be. That thought snapped Harry's attention back to the Hall and he let his eyes trail over the head table in search of his large friend.

He pointed out to Ron and Hermione that Hagrid was, in fact, missing, and the trio debated for a moment on possible explanations for his absence. Harry ended up leaning in and whispering his own theory – that maybe Hagrid wasn't back yet from whatever mission Dumbledore had sent him on for the Order. Hermione still looked worried and dubious.

“Hey, who's that?” Hermione said, pointing towards the Head Table.

Harry followed her gaze and his eyes fell first on Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long head table. Next to him was an empty seat where Professor McGonagall would usually sit, but on the other side of that seat was someone that he did not recognize at all.

He appeared tall, although it was hard to tell for sure since he was sitting down. He had very dark brown curtained hair, parted slightly to the side with the smooth wavy fringe brushed back over his ears, and the ends of his hair waved along the nape of his neck at the back. His eyes were a pale blue – a rather striking contrast to his dark hair – and his face had a sort of aristocratic structure with thin lips, defined cheekbones, and a straight nose. His poise was confident with an air of slightly bored interest while he appeared to converse casually with Professor Flitwick.

Harry felt an odd stirring inside him and found it difficult to draw his eyes away from the man. Something about him just called to Harry. Something... something about him – Harry couldn't put a word or even a coherent thought to what he was feeling, but it was strong. It almost made him felt light headed.

“I dunno... new Defense Professor, you s'pose?” Ron asked and Harry blinked a few times before sluggishly pulling his eyes away.

“Yeah, that's probably right...” Harry trailed off as that Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared from the side-door and went over to sit in the seat that should have been Hagrid's. Harry frowned rather deeply, still feeling rather worried.

A minute later and McGonagall appeared through the same anti-chamber door holding the three-legged stool and the ragged old sorting hat. After setting it up and returning to the anti-chamber, she appeared once again, but this time with a group of tiny first years in tow.

Once they were all in a line and the hall had fallen silent, the rip in the front of the hat opened up, and the sorting hat began it's son.

[AN: sorry – I usually avoid reprinting JK's sorting hat songs, but this one is semi-substantial to story progression, so it's here. It's directly from Order of the Phoenix]

In times of old when I was new and Hogwarts barely started

The Founders of our noble school thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal, they had the selfsame yearning

To make the world's best magic school and pass along their learning.

"Together we will build and teach! the Four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they might someday be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere as Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong? How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell the whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those whose ancestry is purest."

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose intelligence is surest."

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those With brave deeds to their name,"

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot, And treat them just the same."

These differences caused little strife when first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had a House in which they might take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin took only pure-blood wizards of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest went to daring Gryffindor,

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest, and taught them all she knew,

Thus the Houses and their founders retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony for several happy years,

But the discord crept among us feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four, had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and, divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school must meet an early end,

What with dueling and with fighting and the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning when old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out he left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four were whittled down to three

Have the Houses been united as they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here and you all know the score:

I sort you into Houses because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further, listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty and must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether sorting may not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs, the warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger from external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you..

Let the sorting now begin

The song came to an end and the expected applause rang out, but for the first time that Harry could recall, it was stilted and interspersed with muttering and heads turned in to whisper.

The chatter was cut short by a hard glare from Professor McGonagall, and once the hall had fallen silent, she called out the first name, and the sorting began. Harry's mind was torn between pondering the Sorting Hat's rather foreboding song and letting his eyes wander back up to the head table to the unknown new professor.

Harry had to shake his head and blink several times on a few occasions as he found himself staring at the man for too long. He ran a hand through his hair, blinking and trying to rid himself of the odd foggy feeling in his head. Finally the sorting ended and Dumbledore stood up gaining everyone's attention.

He welcomed the new comers and welcomed back everyone else. A simple 'tuck in' was all that was needed for the food to appear and Ron eagerly began loading up his plate with chops. Hermione questioned Nearly Headless Nick about the sorting hat's song and previous times when it had made such warnings and the ghost replied that it had happened several times before – always during times when great danger was on the horizon, and always it's advice was the same – pull together and unite, or collapse from within.

Chatter quickly filled the hall as people caught up on summer activities, exclaimed about new hair cuts, and generally got reacquainted with each other after the two and a half long holiday. Harry had been with Ron and Hermione for the majority of the last month, so there was no reacquainting to be done there, and he couldn't exactly tell any one else about the fact that he'd been living in the secret headquarters of a vigilante group, so he didn't have a lot to talk about to those around him either. Instead he listened as Dean and then Lavender recounted the highlights of their vacations.

After what didn't feel like all that long at all, the puddings had vanished and Dumbledore once again stood up.

“Now that we are all watered and fed, I do have a few start of term announcements to make,” Dumbledore began. “Mr. Filch the caretaker has asked me once again to remind you that there is no magic to be used in the halls. Also the list of banned items has once again been expanded and a full copy can be found on the wall outside Mr. Filch's office. Students are also reminded that the Forbidden Forest is named so for a reason, and is forbidden. Those interested in playing Quidditch for their house teams should inform Madam Hooch. She will be helping the team captains in preparing any tryouts that need to be conducted. Such tryouts will be held the second week of term.

“Now that that is out of the way, I have two notices about staff to announce. First I would like for everyone to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank who has been so kind as to come on board again to take over the duties of Professor Hagrid while he is out of the country on personal matters. Professor Hagrid should be returning later this year, but until then, Professor Grubbly-Plank will be handling the Care of Magical Creatures classes.”

There was applause at this announcement, and quite a bit of enthusiasm from the Ravenclaws and Slytherins that Harry did not appreciate one single bit.

“Next I would like you all to welcome the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Maximilian Monroe.” Dumbledore waved his hand in gesture towards the man in question and he stood up and gave a quick and simple nod of his head before moving to resume his seat.

This announcement also garnered quite a bit of quiet murmuring around the hall, but mostly because everyone always whispered and wondered about Defense professors. Of course this also once again drew Harry's gaze to the man as he had made his simple gesture of greeting.

He was tall, and Harry still got that powerful impression of calm confidence radiating off the man. It seemed to strike some kind of unconscious chord within Harry. Something was just drawing his interest to the man, and he had no idea why.

Things drew to a close after that and the prefects were instructed to lead the first years to their new dorms, which meant that Ron and Hermione had to separate from Harry. Harry was still stewing rather bitterly over this particular development, if he were honest with himself. He still couldn't understand how Ron could possibly be seen as more deserving or better qualified for the position than Harry was. Even now, Ron was complaining to Hermione about letting the sixth year prefects deal with the firsties. He clearly didn't take the responsibility seriously, and Harry knew that he and Ron's grades were basically the same, so it wasn't academics either.

Harry huffed out a frustrated breath and joined the throngs of people leaving the Great Hall.

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Professor Monroe