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Professor Monroe	By : Athey1024 Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 15724 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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The week progressed predictably from there. Classes were about the same as always, only somehow more intense. Instead of the slow start Harry was accustomed to, all of the teachers seemed anxious to get started right away and cram as much information into their heads as possible with the looming threat of their OWL exams at the end of the year.

Wednesday night Angelina Johnson, who had been made the Quidditch captain for the year, cornered Harry in the common room to discuss scheduling and the tryouts that would be held the following week. Once Harry confirmed that he was willing and interesting in retaining his position as Seeker, Angelina heaved a relieved sigh and said that she would only need to fill Oliver's old spot then. The Keeper's position.

Harry went over to Ron as soon as Angelina had left to inform his friend about when to expect the Quidditch tryout to happen.

Ron was a nervous wreck after that, and by mid-day Thursday, he was quite literally driving Harry up the wall. Harry finally offered to let Ron used his Firebolt to practice, but then Ron just moaned about how if he practiced on a Firebolt but then went back to having to use a Cleansweep in the actual games, he'd end up making an arse out of himself.

Harry had to admit he had a point, but it once again left him with no idea of how to help calm his friend down other than simply waiting it out until the tryouts finally happened.

Thursday afternoon brought Harry's second Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and he found himself entering the room with excited anticipation.

Once again, moments after the bells had chimed, Monroe entered the room and made his way to the podium. He was once again clad all in black, but this time his robes had large bell sleeves and his tailcoat went a bit lower to his calves rather than stopping at the back of his knees.

His hair was still perfectly stylish and shiny. It looks soft... His eyes still penetrating and knowledgeable. His thin lips had the slightest hint of a smile upon them and he looked out over the room of students with a gleam to his eyes.

Harry felt his heart rate increase again just looking at the man again. His eyes had often been drawn to him during meals, but he'd come to learn that Professor Monroe didn't often take lunch in the Great Hall, and his breakfasts were always early. But no matter what situation Harry saw him in, he always looked poised and confident. That inexplicable something about the man had continued to intrigue Harry as well as allude his understanding.

He couldn't figure out why he found himself so fascinated with the man. Why his eyes were always drawn to him; why his heart rate would pick up whenever the man looked his way. Why it had filled him with such a thrill that the Professor had awarded him points for his answers and his spellwork in the first class. It had pleased Harry beyond rational explanation to know that he had been the one to get Monroe's questions right. That he had impressed his new teacher, and entirely on his own merits. Hermione hadn't even managed to answer them correctly.

Harry's attention was pulled back to the class as Professor Monroe began his lecture. He went over what he'd garnered from their tests results and then handed out a syllabus for the term before beginning a lecture on the importance of stamina and endurance in a duel. The majority of the other students groaned miserably when Monroe said that he was starting a morning jogging and workout regime that was optional but highly encouraged if they wanted to do well in the physical portions of the class.

Harry found himself highly intrigued by the prospect of this. Ron, in contrast, looked horrified by the mere prospect. It involved meeting up at the classroom at 6:30 in the morning – a time that Ron probably hadn't personally seen in years. Breakfast ran from 7:30 until just before 9:00 when classes started. Harry figured the training couldn't last more than an hour each morning, and any extra time was there so that participants could return to their dorms for a shower.

Normally, he was pretty sure that any activity that took away from his morning sleep was an activity he wouldn't want anything to do with; however he felt almost compelled to attend this. It was only three days a week, actually – Monday, Wednesday, and Friday – and he could probably use the exercise anyway. Plus, he'd been sleeping wonderfully all week. He couldn't recall ever feeling so rested in his life, and he'd blamed it mostly on being comfortable and happy being back at Hogwarts after the musty, oppressive dark of Grimmauld Place.

So when Professor Monroe asked for a show of hands of those who thought they'd be coming for the physical training, Harry raised his hand without hesitation. Even Hermione looked at him in surprise. Ron just looked horrified. Neither of them raised their hands. For that matter, hardly anyone else did, either. Dean Thomas was the only other Gryffindor while Terry Boot and Stephan Cornfoot were the only ones from Ravenclaw.

After that, there was a session where Professor Monroe would ask a question of the class, much like he had the day before, to see what sorts of answers people might come up with and bringing about an interesting discussion over the various answers people came up with. It was fascinating and Harry had never felt so interested or excited by any class lecture before in his whole life. He felt challenged, but also almost enlightened. His mind was being stretched and worked, and not just with regurgitating facts from a dry old book, but rather actually thinking over different scenarios and spells and which ones would be most useful in various situations.

After a little more than a half an hour of discussion, they were all migrated to the back of the classroom to start up a session of target practice. Monroe told them that the single most consistent problem he saw the day before with the practical test hadn't necessarily been any collective failure to know any specific spells, but rather the rather obvious failing at aim. The class had groaned and complained at first – obviously thinking that an exercise of such low level was beneath them and a waste of time. They weren't even practicing any specific spells!

He soon had them all shooting out the same colorless bolt of harmless magic that he'd fired at Hermione during the previous class. The dummies, that were now lined up along both walls of the back of the room, had a small glowing ball of light over their heads that turned different colors depending on level of accuracy in aim. Harry cast a series of quick shots in a row and grinned proudly as the light remained green through the whole thing. He let his eyes stray and was almost staggered by the number of glowing red and yellow balls over the heads of the other practice dummies.

He supposed Professor Monroe had a point. They really did have awful aim.

Being able to correctly say the incantation and getting the wand movement down while correctly focusing were all important, but they were worthless if you couldn't hit your target in the end.

Monroe gave demonstrations several times for various students and Harry stopped whatever he was in the middle of, every time, as all of his focus zeroed in on his charismatic teacher and his amazing form. The way he stood; the way held himself; and the fluid perfect motion of his arm and wand as he cast the spell – it was mesmerizing. Harry felt his breath go shallow and his heart rate pick up slightly as he watched the man's quick efficient movements with awe.

A warm curling twisted its way through his lower gut and a pleasant pulsing coursed through his member. Harry tried to subtly push the heel of his palm against it to adjust it, as it was beginning to feel rather uncomfortably confined in his trousers. The sharp burst of pleasure upon contact shook him out of his haze and he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was getting hard. From watching his teacher.

His male teacher.

The level of shock and confusion this shot through him was powerful enough to deflate his problem; which he was greatly thankful for. But nothing seemed capable of calming his now stormy and bewildered thoughts.

– –

He tried desperately to just try and push the thoughts from his mind, but he was now faced with another problem. The following day was Friday, and it was to be the first day for the morning exercise stuff. No matter how befuddled Harry felt about his body's reaction, he still very much wanted to go.

But the fact that he still couldn't explain why, bothered him. A lot of his reactions in relation to his teacher couldn't really be explained, in fact. He wanted to tell himself that his knob's reaction during the dueling portion was just random nonsensical teenaged hormones, but what about everything else?

Did he fancy his teacher?

The following morning Harry got himself up outrageously early, but once again felt refreshed after a wonderful nights rest, so the early our wasn't nearly as difficult as he might have feared. He made his way to the Defense corridor and found a small gathering of students there.

He didn't see anyone younger than him there. Harry wasn't sure if that meant that Professor Monroe hadn't invited the fourth year and lower classes to join, or if it simply meant that none of them had been willing. As it were, from his own year there were two Gryffindors, two Ravenclaws, three Hufflepuffs and not a single Slytherin. It made him quietly snort as he mentally snickered about lazy Slytherins needing their beauty rest.

From the sixth and seventh years, it was much the same thing, although there were two seventh year Slytherins in the group. Harry also noted that every person who was there was also a member of their house Quidditch team. The only one of them he was legitimately familiar with was Cedric, who Harry was fairly sure had been made team Captain for the Hufflepuff team this year. Harry was tempted for a moment to go talk to him, but in the end he refrained.

Harry and Dumbledore had both been prime targets of the media and Fudge's people, ever since the incident with the tournament. Cedric had been targeted a bit as well, mostly from people trying to pressure him into saying that Harry was a lair. The thing was that Cedric had been stunned the moment he and Harry landed in that graveyard and hadn't seen a damn thing, so he really couldn't confirm anything, either way. The press had finally backed off of him, and Harry didn't want to draw any attention back to the other boy if it could be avoided.

Professor Monroe showed up soon after Harry got there and gave a quick talk about the route they'd be taking when they went for jogs outside, and then about what they'd be doing once the weather got too nasty to be outdoors. He also told them what sort of clothes they should be wearing for best freedom of movement and comfort.

He himself was wearing loose cotton slacks – black, of course – a pair of black shoes that looked reminicent of muggle trainers, and yet clearly not, and a black cotton tunic that sort of hugged his torso while also looking loose enough for comfort.

Since this was a bit of a new experience for all of them, he was sticking to building up their stamina to start with, so they'd be jogging before coming in for a small break before doing some simple calisthenics. He then had to pause to explain what 'Calisthenics' meant, and then convince several of the students that it was not some 'silly muggle thing', and that it originated in ancient Greece and has been used by wizards for over a thousand years.

The whole while Harry's attention had been split between listening to his professor and just looking at his teacher. But with new eyes. Harry over-scrutinized his every reaction to the man, but by the time he was done, he felt even more confused than before. The man's clothing didn't help things. Harry couldn't help but look at him and find himself enjoying the view. Which, in turn, freaked him out and made him blush.

Before he knew it, he was following the small crowd out of the castle and onto the grounds. They did a loop around the entire castle, having to stop twice for stragglers who were too winded and exhausted to keep going without a break. At least all of the Quidditch players were keeping up pretty well. Harry wondered if he should mention this whole thing to Angelina. He knew that if Oliver were still around and still captain, he would probably mandate that everyone on the team join in for this thing. Then again, he had a feeling that if he did mention it to Angelina and she did make everyone on the team join, that Fred and George would personally cruciate Harry for it. And if Ron ended up joining the team, he'd do much the same. Weasley's were not morning people.

Finally they made it back inside and up to the third floor defense classroom. Another short break later and Monroe was demonstrating the common exercises of Callisthenics. Lunges, jumping jacks, sit-ups, crunches, push-ups, pull-ups, squats, calf-raises, dips, and something called 'flutter kicks'.

He had bars attacked to the back of the wall in order for them to do the pull-ups, and had conjured a set of parallel bars for the dips. After he'd demo'd each one while explaining which muscle groups the various exercises aided, he told them all to start with jumping jacks for the next few minutes.

There was obvious hesitation among the students. No one wanted to look ridiculous in front of their peers, and there was no questioning that doing jumping jacks would probably look ridiculous. Feel urged on by that traitorous little voice inside him that had been so stupidly pleased when Professor Monroe had praised him in class, Harry stepped forward and was the first to start.

His heart gave a ridiculous flutter at the pleased look Monroe gave him as the others followed suit and also began their exercises.

After the exercise session had run to a close and everyone was leaving in a rush so they could shower and make it to breakfast, Harry herd the professor call out his name and paused mid-step.

“Yes, Professor?” Harry asked as he turned around and had to fight off the blush that wanted to stain his cheeks. He glanced around and watched as the last of the other students vanished from the room, leaving him alone with Monroe.

“I was wondering Mr. Potter, if you'd indulge me in a curiosity of mine. I was hoping you might have the time to join me for afternoon tea? I have a few things I was hoping to talk to you about,” Professor Monroe said calmly.

Harry's mouth floundered and he snapped it shut for fear of looking like some sort of idiotic fish. His heart was racing and his insides were torn between being terrified and being beyond elated.

“It's not required at all, of course,” Monroe continued on a moment later. “It's not official school business – rather it has to do with my personal studies. You are in no way obligated to come.”

“No! I mean, yes. I'll be there,” Harry said quickly. “Um... when and where?”

Professor Monroe smiled, and Harry felt as if his heart had just stopped beating and all breath had left his lungs.

Merlin's beard was this man beautiful. Harry had never seen a more beautiful human being in his whole life. He was just utterly amazing. Harry felt his head go all foggy and light-headed and his lids felt almost heavy somehow. Like he wanted desperately to just close his eyes and bask in the feeling of being so close.

He could smell the man, he was so close. He smelled like cloves and sandalwood and old books.

“That's great, Mr. Potter. I do appreciate your willingness to indulge me. This afternoon at 3:30 would be nice. You're out of classes by then, yes?”

“Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, I am,” Harry said, shaking his head and trying to stop acting like a blithering idiot.

“My office then. It's on the sixth floor, right-hand corridor. Just after the statue of Martin the Marksman? Do you know where that is?”

“Yeah, I know that one,” Harry said quickly, nodding his head.

“Fantastic. I'll see you then.”

And with that, Professor Monroe left the room and Harry was left there wondering what he was getting himself into and if he'd completely lost his mind for agreeing.

– –

So far Harry hadn't said one word to either Ron or Hermione about his strange obsession and reaction to Professor Monroe, but Harry had a sinking suspicion that Hermione already suspected something was going on with him. She'd caught him staring rather doe-eyed at the man too many times to not have noticed. Ron, in contrast, was utterly oblivious, and Harry was thankful for that. He needed time to sort himself out before he dared talk to Ron about it.

As such, when he told Ron and Hermione that Professor Monroe had invited him for tea, their reactions were quite different. Hermione looked cautiously worried, but was also giving Harry a rather penetrating look. Ron, however, was instantly on his guard, reminding Harry that this was a DADA teacher, and he should be wary on principle. Sure, they usually waited until the end of the year before trying to kill Harry, but maybe this one was trying to get it over with quickly.

Hermione looked affronted and annoyed with Ron, but then ended up turning back to Harry with worry in her eyes and told him to be careful.

It hadn't even occurred to Harry to be worried about Professor Monroe trying to do something to hurt him. And really – it probably should have. It made him worry, but the worry was fleeting and soon had completely left his mind as he was instead occupied by his nerves at the prospect of having tea, alone, with Professor Monroe.

Harry found his way up to the sixth floor and paused before Professor Monroe's office trying to calm his racing heart. He reached up and just before he could knock the door was pulled open. Harry's hand remained frozen in mid air for an embarrassingly long moment before he jerked it back down. Professor Monroe stood there, grinning with sly amusement for a moment before taking a step back and gesturing for Harry to enter.

“Mr. Potter, I'm so glad you were willing to come,” he said as Harry stepped inside far enough for Monroe to close the door behind him. “Please, take a seat,” he said with an inviting wave of his hand.

It was a large office; much larger than the office that had been used by Professors Lockhart, Lupin, and Moody the last three years. It seemed to be separated into two sections – the front section had a large wooden desk with a leather office chair behind it, and two smaller chairs opposite for guests. The rear three-quarters of the room was arranged more like a sitting room. There was a large fireplace set into one wall and surrounded by book cases. In fact book cases took up almost every inch of wall space in the room – and they were full too. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen this many books outside of the library before.

Hermione would love this place.

In front of the large fireplace was a round woven rug over the flagstones and a two-seater couch, and several squashy-looking leather armchairs, arranged in a circle formation around a low wooden round table. On the table was a tray with tea and a selection of biscuits, and it was clear that this was the area that Professor Monroe was motioning towards.

Harry made his way over and sat in one of the chairs, setting his rucksack onto the floor beside it and trying to calm his overcharged nerves. He couldn't help but notice that, despite there being so many shelves, and all of them appearing pretty much full to capacity, that there were still quite a few boxes laying around the room with open lids showing even more books.

Professor Monroe followed him over and sat in the center of the short couch, putting him directly opposite Harry. He leaned forward and began pouring some tea – he asked Harry if he wanted any and Harry mumbled his acceptance, responding appropriately as Monroe asked him how he took it. Harry accepted the cup and saucer and took a biscuit, glad for something to do with his hands.

“When I took this post I made it a point to try and learn as much as I could about what my predecessors had done,” Monroe began as he sat back in his own seat comfortably. “I looked over the other Defense teachers notes, looked at student exam results, and spoke with the other professors. This all gave me a good academic viewpoint of how things transpired, but that can only really take a person so far. I also asked several of the portraits and the ghosts for their opinions, since they're the best source of gossip outside of the actual student population, and the students weren't here yet. It didn't take me long to come to the conclusion that it would probably be best if you and I talked.”

“You and me? Why?” Harry asked.

“Well, you haven't exactly had the best of luck with Defense professors. Honestly, it's a wonder that you even keep coming back to Hogwarts with as much insanity you seem to have encountered while here. If nothing else, it's perfectly clear that the school's faculty have failed on a grand scale when it comes to guaranteeing your safety. Students shouldn't be encountering life-threatening situations on any sort of regular basis, and from what I've heard, you've been attacked by every single Defense Professor that's been through this school since you started. Is that wrong?”

“Oh... oh, er... yeah, I guess so. But Professor Lupin didn't mean it, he just –“ Harry trailed off weakly. “I mean, I don't blame him. I'm not angry with him or anything. He was a brilliant professor.”

“Well I do appreciate that you don't fault the poor man simply for his ailment. Just the same, he was at fault for neglecting to take his potion. It's much the same as when an epileptic who suffers from seizures forgets to take his medication, gets behind the wheel of a car and causes an accident. It is true that it is a disease that the man cannot help, but there are preventative measures, and if he fails in his duty to attend to them, and causes injury, he is still held responsible.”

Harry blinked in surprise. He found quite a bit of logic in that, actually. He'd never really thought about it either, and it certainly never would have occurred to him to compare a werewolf to an epileptic. Monroe's seemingly open view on werewolves pleased Harry as well.

“But the point of all of this is that I would absolutely hate for any student in my class to be afraid of me or hold any fear that something might happen to them while in my care. I would like to hope that I haven't – and won't ever – personally give you reason to fear me, but considering all that you've apparently been through I would assume you've probably developed a healthy sense of paranoia and caution. Given the track record, there's more than sufficient cause for you to be wary of anyone filling this post. Do you see what I'm getting at?”

Harry blinked rather dumbly for a moment before giving a sort of confused shrug. “I... think so?” he said, but it came out much more like a question.

Monroe chuckled. “I apologize, I tend to ramble sometimes. I'm sure you've noticed my class lectures can often get rather wordy. What I'm getting at, basically, is that I would like to find a way to ease any fears you might hold against me, simply because I am theDefense Professor. Just the same, I was unsure what I could possibly do to ease any such fears. How do you prove to someone that you're trustworthy? You really can't prove anything to you – trust must be earned. I would still like to try though. I thought that perhaps we could have a talk, one-on-one, and I could give you an opportunity to get to know me and ask me any questions you might have that could aid in lessening any concerns you might hold.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harry said, feeling a bit dumbstruck.

“Now, are you familiar with a device known as a Fidescio?”

“Er... no.”

“Ah, well, it's a device that the Ministry used to use in trials to determine if a person was lying while making testimony. I've got one – just a moment.” Monroe paused, reached his arm out with hand outstretched towards the bookshelves to his right and a small glass ball flew from the shelf and right into his hand.

Harry's eyes widened in awe of the small, wordless bit of wandless magic. He'd only ever seen Professor Dumbledore do something like that, and only a few times.

Monroe turned back to face him and showed him the small glass ball in the palm of his hand. It was probably three inches in diameter, with little flecks of stuff and imperfections in it, showing that it was solid through.

“This is a Fidescio. When activated, it will glow red if the person holding it is lying, and glow green if the person is telling the truth, as they see it. Obviously, truth and falsehoods are determined by the individuals perceptions. It has a few other colors as well, varying shades of yellows and oranges are used if the person isn't sure if what they're saying is true or not. The closer to red, the more likely it is that they may be lying, or think believe they might be wrong. There are ways around it, of course. A person with even slight skills in occlumency can cut their mind off from it, and in that case it will simply remain vacant and colorless as it is now. In the last half century it has become more and more common practice for witches and wizards of more well-to-do families, to hire tutors to instruct their children in rudimentary occlumency at a young age, so the device became rather obsolete. People would go up on the stand, block their mind, and it wouldn't do anyone any good. It cast doubt upon the trustworthy of any testimony, but that was just circumstantial and couldn't be used against a person.

“In any case, I'm offering to you, as a sign of my desire to earn some of your trust, to use the Fidescio while we speak.”

Harry gaped and looked down at the orb and then back at his teacher again. His first instinct was to say that that really wasn't necessary at all, and that he'd take the man at his word – but then his sense kicked in and told him not to be a naive idiot. No matter how he felt about the man – as irrational as it was or not – he was a Defense teacher and an unknown factor, and Harry really did have a history of things going horribly horribly wrong with them. This really was an opportunity that he shouldn't waste.

“I... okay,” Harry finally said and nodded.

“Great,” Monroe said with a small grin. He whipped out his wand – again, seemingly out of nowhere, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, how the man did that. Monroe tapped it gently on the top of the ball before returning his wand to it's hiding place up his sleeve. He grasped the ball between his hands and held it casually in his lap.

“I'll start with a bit about myself, how's that?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry nodded and took a sip of his tea.

“Well, my mother was a witch, but my father was a muggle,” Monroe began and the ball glowed green from between his hands. “My mother ran away from her family and eloped with him against their wishes, and was cut off completely from them after that. When I was quite young, my mother died and I was left to spend my youth entirely in the muggle world. In fact, I knew next to nothing of magic until my Hogwarts letter came when I was eleven.”

Harry's eyes widened slightly and sat forward with a bit more interest. The ball had remained a steady bright green the whole while, although Harry couldn't imagine any reason to lie about such things anyway. Still, it was interesting.

“So on September 1st, 1963, first year Maximilian Monroe sat on a tiny three-legged stool and a dirty old hat called out Ravenclaw before it had barely even touched upon a head,” Monroe chuckled and shrugged. The ball remained green. “I've always had an intense thirst for knowledge. Even when I was a young child before entering the magical world, I hoarded books whenever I could. I'm sure you've noticed I still have a bit of a hording problem.”

Harry's eyes glanced around the book-filled room and he grinned slightly and nodded. “Yeah, maybe just a bit.” Harry joked.

Monroe chuckled and Harry's chest fluttered. “Yes, just a bit,” the ball flickered momentarily to yellow, and Harry assumed it was in response to the use of sarcasm. “In any case, I excelled in most of my classes, remained mostly to myself in the early years but had a few close acquaintances,” the ball was back to green. “It has actually been one of my few positive dreams for much of my life to eventually teach. I even applied for this very post of Defense instructor upon my graduation. However I was told at the time that I was too young and needed to see more of the world before tackling such a job. So I took a job as the clerk of a small store and saved up some money before departing England and traveling abroad.

“I traveled to many countries over the next decade and learned obscure and rare magics from masters of many forms, and found books and ancient ruins that held secrets that had been lost for ages. It was an eye opening, and incredibly educational experience. I know there are those that believed the only reason I left Britain was to escape the war that had been brewing in the wizarding world – there are even those that would have called me a coward for leaving England during a time of such turmoil, but I never saw my travels as running. I wanted to travel. I needed to see those things for myself – experience those magics and the varied people I encountered. Observe, first hand, how other wizarding communities govern and operate.

“It showed me just how terribly flawed our own system here is, actually. I said in class that I prefer things to be practical, but I also highly appreciate the value of tradition. It is when tradition looses it's value and begins to impose impractical burdens that I feel tradition should no longer be taken quite so seriously – or should, at least, take a back seat to the good of the masses, and not simply an adherence to the old ways for the sake of the old ways.

“In contrast, however, I also feel that there are aspects of our ancient traditions that have been lost to us but that need to be brought back to light. We once had such a strong connection with the magic of the world around us – a connection that we strengthened and solidified through rituals and ceremonies. Milestones rituals for our children, yearly holy days where the magic of the world is stronger and better suited for certain purposes than any other day; important truths about our histories and lessons to be learned from them – all forgotten or corrupted by those in power at certain times for the purpose of suiting different individuals' needs.

“It's easy to lose track of these things – to become blind to them – when so deeply buried in them and having grown up surrounded by things and just accepting the status quo as is, because you've never seen it as being any other way. Traveling to other countries and distant lands and seeing how they commune with magic, and how they worship and live, changes things drastically. It shows you how things could be done differently – shows you that things can be done differently.

“No one place has everything right because every country suffers from the same narrow sighted vision that we do, but the value of travel in that regards is that you can see those flaws and those gifts from an objective viewpoint. You can pick out what's worked and what hasn't and take those lessons back with you and apply the knowledge to your own situations. So in that way, I would agree with the Headmaster's assessment back when I first applied to be a Defense professor at Hogwarts. I needed to travel, and if I had remained at Hogwarts, my world would have remained small and I never would have seen things the way I eventually did.

“My world had been the small area of muggle London I grew up in; Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and Hogsmeade. That was basically it. And that is a very small world, indeed. But my world was expanded a thousand fold, and it was a journey that taught me many things, and not just book knowledge.”

Harry was rapt with attention, soaking up every word. Monroe's voice was so smooth and crisp. He was so confident and enthusiastic when he spoke, and everything he said made sense. It was always simple concepts, yet it always seemed as if they were things that Harry had never bothered to think about or realize before. Yet once he'd heard it, it just made so much sense. He was surprised he hadn't seen it before.

He also realized that he too, had a very small world. Privet Drive, Diagon Alley, the Burrow, Grimauld Place, Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. They were like little floating islands in the clouds and Harry couldn't quite see what lay beyond their individual boundaries.

Monroe shifted the ball that had been still glowing green the whole time, into one hand and used the other to pick up his tea cup and take a drink. He set it down and assumed his earlier position.

“Let's see... well, I suppose you could ask questions at this point. Is there anything you'd like to know?” Monroe asked and Harry blinked blankly in response for a moment.

“Er... I don't know,” Harry said, shrugging and trying to get his mind to settle on something. “Uhm, do... er... do you believe me and Dumbledore about Voldemort being back?”

“I believe you about Voldemort being back. Dumbledore himself never saw the man, as I understand it. You, however, are a direct witness and I can't imagine any reason for you to lie about such a thing. These ridiculous claims in the paper about an attention-seeking youth and delusions are hardly worth paying any attention. It's obvious to me that those in control of the Ministry right now are desperate, terrified incompetents.

“They've been skirting by for years doing nothing but twiddling their thumbs, passing meaningless legislation that accomplishes nothing, for the sake of appearing to work while neutering any legislation that might effect any real change. Their jobs have been easy and they've remained in high controlling positions where money flows freely in back room deals and the public is kept blind to the corruption.

“They haven't had to do any real work, and the people have been happy because they're too busy and comfortable with their day-to-day lives to realize that their government doesn't care about them. Voldemort being back would mean things would get complicated again. It would mean that they would have to work for a change. It would mean that the public would begin to look at them and expect things. That terrifies them – Fudge especially. They would do anything to keep that from being a reality, even denying the truth when it could likely lead to the eventual suffering of the people.”

Harry gaped. Not only had Monroe said Voldemort, instead of all that You-Know-Who nonsense, but Harry had never before heard someone talk that way, so openly and honestly, about the Ministry. Harry hadn't been able to wrap his mind around why the Ministry and the Prophet would be slandering him the way they were. He couldn't understand why the Minister would be so intent on denying what he'd seen and calling him a lair. It just didn't make sense to him. But in one succinct monolog, Professor Monroe had summed up what was probably the exact reasoning behind it.

“I... I never thought of it that way,” Harry said quietly, still reeling inside.

“It is disgusting what they're doing to you, Mr. Potter. You, a young man with apparently no competent adult representation, being slandered in a public venue over and over again? It's more than just disgusting, it's libel, but they apparently feel safe in continuing such actions because no action has been taken against them to make them stop. So they just get worse and worse as it becomes more and more obvious that you're basically defenseless.”

“Action? What do you mean? But what could I do?” Harry asked, shaking his head with frustration and feeling that same dark hopelessness he'd felt when he first saw the summer's Prophets when he got to Grimmauld Place during the summer.

“Well for one, you could seek legal representation and sue them. What they're doing is against the law, Mr. Potter, and you are still a minor. Hasn't anyone told you that?”

“What? No! What do you mean? Sue them?”

“It's called 'libel', Mr. Potter. Libel is a false, malicious statement published in mainstream media. If the defamatory statements are spoken it's called 'slander'. In Scots law, there is actually no legal distinction between libel and slander and all cases are simply defamation – in any case, however, it is all illegal, and even more so, when such an action is taken against a minor. You have legal rights, Mr. Potter, and you should be defending yourself against such malicious attacks. Has there really been no adult witch or wizard that has told you any of this before now?”

Harry shook his head, feeling confused and angry. “No! No one!”

“I understand you live with muggles – I suppose they may not be familiar with our laws, but I know that the muggle government has many of the same protections against public libel as we in the wizarding world do.”

“I – er, well, my muggle relatives don't really know about any of this... or even want to, for that matter. I certainly wouldn't tell them about any of it, anyway... They don't much like magic.”

“Ah... I see,” Monroe said softly and gave Harry a look that was more understanding than Harry would have expected. It was almost as if, with that one look, Harry knew that Professor Monroe really did know. He really did understand. It shook Harry by it's intensity, but then a moment later it was done.

“I would expect you've got a magical proxy. Have even they not discussed any of this with you?”

“A what?”

“When a wizarding child's parents die and that child is placed into the custody of muggles, a magical proxy must be assigned. It's that person's responsibility to check up on the child throughout the course of their life and make sure that they are being raised appropriately. Their power is somewhat limited still – there was legislation in the 60's to give them more power to protect the child, but it was repealed in the 70's by an opposing political faction. Just the same, they are still mandated to do at least yearly visits and once the child gets to be of age for Hogwarts, they are supposed to meet with the child to make sure they understand their fundamental rights and responsibilities as members of a magical society.”

Harry shook his head dumbfounded. “No... no, I don't have anyone like that.”

“No?” Monroe echoed in surprise and apparent confusion. The globe turned yellow and flickered slightly orange before fading but Harry wasn't paying it much attention anymore. “You really should have one,” Monroe insisted and the orb went back to green. “It's legally mandated.”

“But I don't. I've never even heard of a magical proxy.”

“Well, this is a simple enough thing to straighten out,” Monroe said leaning forward and setting the ball down on the table where it went clear again and deactivated. He stretched his arm out towards his desk across the room and with a tiny flutter of his fingers a piece of parchment and a quill went soaring across the space and into his outstretched hand. “It's a simple matter of writing a short note to the Department of Magical Child Welfare and requesting the information. Would you like to write it yourself, or shall I?”

“You go ahead,” Harry said, still feeling that hallow, stunned feeling at the thought that there was supposed to be someone looking out for him all these years and yet no one had been. Someone who could have found out about how awful the Dursley's were all those years and maybe done something about it.

Professor Monroe quickly began to write on the paper in tall, sharp script that appeared very clean and precise, just like the man himself. Harry leaned over after a moment to try and read it, but it was difficult from his angle. Soon, Monroe finished and twirled the paper around on the table so it faced Harry.

It was short, quick, and to the point with almost none of the flowery language the man tended to use in his speech. It was a simple request for the name of Harry's legal magical proxy, and nothing more.

“Just sign at the bottom,” Monroe instructed, handing Harry the quill that he realized was charmed to have an endless ink reservoir.

Harry put the quill to parchment and wrote out his name in his own scrawling penmanship that looked ugly in comparison to his professors neat writing above.

“Now, since this is a request for sealed information, you need to provide proof that you are who you claim you are, so you'll need to cast your personal legal seal on it.”

“My what?” Harry asked with a frown.

Monroe blinked, then gave a small sigh and shook his head. “This is why all children raised in the muggle world need better introductory lessons. This is the sort of thing that your proxy is responsible for telling you, in fact. Anyway, there is a spell that is used for signing official documents to prove that you are who you say you are. It cannot be forged. First, it requires a small drop of blood; then you press your wand tip to it and say sigillum sanguis. The bit of blood will transform into wax and take on the appearance of your family or personal seal, or in the case of most muggleborn, just their initials. It will be imbibed with the signature of your wand, your magic, and your blood.”

“Oh, wow. Yeah, I didn't know that,” Harry said, shaking his head slightly.

He turned his attention back to the parchment, paused for only a moment before pulling out his own wand and bringing the tip to his thumb. He cast a very small cutting hex, but still hissed in surprise when he felt the pad of his thumb get sliced open. He quickly let a drop fall on the parchment before sticking his thumb in his mouth.

“Here, let me heal it,” Monroe said and Harry pulled his thumb from his mouth and presented it to his teacher. It was barely a moment later that Monroe had aimed his wand and healed the cut completely. Harry smiled gratefully and looked back at the parchment.

“What was the spell again?”

“Sigillum Sanguis.”

Harry put his wand into the dark reddish drop of blood, not particularly liking getting the blood on his wand tip, and cast the spell. He felt it work, right off and as he pulled his wand back up, all he saw was what appeared to be a wax seal. He blanched slightly at what was stamped into it. It was small, so it was hard to make out the details, but it almost looked like it was a picture of a shield with a lightening bolt on it.

“My scar?” Harry muttered in disbelief.

“Ah – the rune sowilo. The rune of the sun. It's a powerful symbol.”

Harry looked up at his teacher and blinked. “Huh?”

Monroe chuckled. “I take it that you aren't taking ancient runes?”

“Er, no. But my friend Hermione is.”

“And she's never pointed it out to you?”

“Pointed out what?”

“That your scar is a rune.”

Harry blinked and slowly shook his head. “No... No one's ever mentioned anything like that before.”

“Well, then perhaps we'll get back to that later. For now, we can get this sent out,” Monroe said picking up the parchment and folding it into thirds before slipping it into an envelope. On the envelope he wrote out 'Department of Magical Child Welfare, Ministry of Magic, London, England' let Harry look over it one last time and then stood up and walked over to the only window the office had. He opened it up, and let out a sharp high pitched whistle. Harry watched with interest as a smokey gray owl appeared a moment later and offered up it's leg. Monroe attached the letter, gave the bird a quick verbal instruction and then let it go.

“Well that's one thing taken care of. You should hear from them in less than a day. There's no reason for it to take any longer than that. Now back to your legal problems. I am entirely of the opinion that you should be seeking legal council. Do you have a solicitor on retainer?”

“No, nothing like that,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Well then you should get one. It'll be a touch decision to make though. You'd be best off enlisting the services of a large firm with the strength and the power to stand up against the Ministry. A small private firm would probably crumble under the pressure. At the same time, you also need to find a solicitor you can trust not to try and take advantage of you. That's another that that your proxy would normally see to, but seeing as how you may somehow not have one – and if you do, he's obviously seriously neglected his duties – I'm not sure that he or she is a person whose opinion you could really trust with something like this.”

Harry scowled darkly and nodded.

“I could probably do a bit of searching and make a small list of lawyers or firms I could recommend. I would of course, also recommend you try asking any others for their opinions... perhaps Professor McGonagall – she is your head of house after all. Are there any other adults you can think of to ask?”

Harry frowned, pondering the question for a moment. All that came to mind were Sirius, Mr. Weasley and the Headmaster, but the headmaster had been avoiding him like the plague, and this didn't seem like something he should bother the man with anyway.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, I can think of a couple.”

“Good. You talk with them, and I'll get you a list as well. You can write to the various firms and then make the decision for yourself from their responses.”

“Okay, but... well, you really think that I could do anything?” Harry asked, skeptically.”

“It's a very clear case of libel. Pressing charges won't force them to print a retraction, but it'll stop them from printing anything new. It's a start, at least.”

Harry nodded in agreement. It was better than nothing.

“Now, it would appear that we got quite side-tracked, didn't we?” Monroe asked with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah, I guess so,” Harry said with a weak laugh. “But I don't really think that there's anything else I would ask anyway... I mean, you've probably been more upfront with me over the last hour than any other professor has been with me... er... ever.”

“That's unfortunate,” Monroe said softly and Harry ducked his head and shrugged awkwardly. “Well, I want you to know, Mr. Potter, that if you ever have any questions – not just about my class or me personally, but just little things – things that you feel like you should know, but because of your being raised outside of the muggle world, you find your education somewhat lacking – that my door is always open for you. I would be more than happy to fill in any gaps in your education. I found myself in very much the same situation when I first came to the wizarding world as a child. My father hadn't even known my mother was a witch when they married, and he never became well informed about them. I had no one, as a child, who could tell me anything, and was rather isolated during my early years at Hogwarts as well.”

“I appreciate that. I do, really,” Harry said, nodding his head enthusiastically. “I hate it when I come across these things that everyone figures I should just know by now, but I don't. I mean, no one ever told me – how was I supposed to know?” Harry said indignantly before giving a resigned huff. “But then again, I suppose Hermione would probably insist that if I just read more I'd know all sorts of stuff like this. But most of the books assume you know this stuff already to, and none of them really explain anything.”

Monroe hummed sympathetically and nodded his head. “It is quite a failing of our education system. Many magical people get frustrated and angry with the muggle-raised for being ignorant of our traditions and our ways, but whenever attempts are made to introduce classes or mandate reading that would fill in the gaps, it's always halted by people on the other side who seem to think such things would make the muggle-raised feel discriminated against or something. Which never really made sense to me. It's not like we're telling the muggle-raised that they have to conform to the old ways, just be aware of them and respect them so that they don't insult people out of pure ignorance. I know that I, as a child, would have appreciated such lessons being available, but they weren't.”

Harry nodded his head slowly as he mulled this over. Honestly, the professor had quite a point. He could just imagine how many things wouldn't have caught him by surprise if he'd actually had a class about them. Things were still always catching him by surprise, and this was the start of his fifth year in the magical world.

Monroe took a moment to drink some more tea and Harry did as well, surprised that it was still warm after all this time. He figured that his professor must have put a warming charm on the cups or something.

“Ah... I almost forgot but...” Monroe began but hesitated and looked like he wasn't sure if he should continue.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Well, it's just something that occurred to me over the summer when I was speaking with one of the ghosts. They mentioned something that sort of re-sparked a bit of silly curiosity in me.”

Harry frowned, feeling somewhat confused.

“Well, as you've already noted, I'm a bit of a book hoarder. I'm a hoarder of knowledge, but even if it's a book that probably isn't all that valuable to most, I like to just have them for a collector's sake. I know it's silly, but it's just sort of hard-wired into how I work. So whenever I come across a book that's unique or special in any way, I tend to go out of my way to get it. A number of years ago... oh, I think I was around twenty, so I suppose it really has been a while – I came across an exceptionally rare book. The problem is that it's written in... well, in parselscript. Seeing as how the only person about at the time that I know of that could read it was Voldemort, I wasn't about to go asking for help in translating it. So I've just kept it, like a good book hoarder does, and every now and then I'd come across it in my boxes and it would spark that wave of curiosity before I would become resigned again and put it back into storage. Now however, Voldemort isn't the only parselmouth out there. I was wondering if you might possibly be willing to take a look at it?”

Harry gaped. “Way, there's a way to write down parseltongue?”

“Yes, of course. Most of the magical languages can be written down and read by those who are magically able to understand them. Here, let me go get it,” Monroe said as he stood up and walked over to one of the many book shelves, thumbed through things, shifted a few others before exclaiming 'Ah! Here it is!' out loud and then returning to seating area. This time, however, he sat in one of the chairs directly next to Harry, and scooted it over so they were right next to each other. He leaned over and presented Harry with the book.

For a moment Harry just stared at it as if he were afraid it were going to strike at him and bite him, but the book appeared perfectly innocuous. Not that that meant anything. Tom Riddle's diary had appeared perfectly harmless too.

Hesitantly, Harry reached out a slightly shaking hand and accepted the book. The binding was smooth but textured and Harry suspected it was some sort of snake skin. He held it slightly away form himself and opened the book to the first page. The letters were hard to focus on for a moment, but it appeared to be English. It was rather odd, actually – where ever he was focusing on, it was perfectly legible, but it was almost as if the letters were wrigling at his peripheral vision.

“It's in English,” Harry said, frowning.

Monroe crowed and Harry looked at him in surprise.

“Brilliant! So you really can read it. Fascinating.”

“You can't read it?”

“To someone who isn't a parselmouth, the letters look like little moving snakes and nothing more.”

“Oh..”

“Now, this isn't by any means something that you have to do, Mr. Potter,” Monroe said quickly with a reassuring smile, “it's not an assignment and I won't hold it against you if you want nothing to do with it, but I really was hoping you might be willing to maybe skim through it and give me some idea as to what the book is about. I wouldn't ask for anything as intensive as a translation, but maybe you could translate the table of contents, the chapter heads and such. Perhaps write up a summary of a section or maybe even a chapter. Just to curb my curiosity a bit,” he said, giving Harry a sheepish sort of smile while looking up through his long curled eyelashes, that stirred things up in Harry's lower gut and set his heart to racing again.

Harry swallowed and found himself nodding. “Yeah... yeah, I could probably do that.”

“Fantastic! Thank you Harry – I do really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Harry said with a weak smile, feeling warm at the man's pleasure, but slightly overwhelmed by the request. “But er, could we keep it between us? People tend to get all weird whenever they're reminded that I'm a parselmouth.”

Monroe's face fell instantly and he gave a frustrated sort of noise and shook his head. “Such small-minded people. It really is ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, looking down at his lap.

Suddenly the most wonderful and amazing warmth surged through Harry's entire body and a small shocked gasp escaped his lips. His eyes flew down and there, on his knee, was Professor Monroe's hand gently patting him. A moment later the hand left and with it, the wonderful feeling. Harry nearly whimpered and felt his body sag with regret.

“I'm so sorry that you've been put through so much, Mr. Potter,” Monroe was saying as Harry pulled his mind out of the stunned fog it had found itself in. “It seems the world had all these outrageous expectations for you and they forget that you're still a real person. It's not faire to expect so much out of one young man. And what right do any of them have to expect anything from you? You most certainly don't own them anything. If anything, the wizarding world owes you a great deal. But do they consider that? No, of course not.” Monroe sighed and shook his head again. “Ungrateful moronic masses. So eager to follow whatever someone else tells them to think.”

A weak, almost manic-sounding laugh seemed to bubble up from Harry's through and he clamped his mouth shut. “Yeah...” was all he managed to say.

“I can only imagine the hardships you've endured at the end of other people's outrageous expectations,” Monroe said gently and lightly placed his hand on Harry's leg again.

Harry's eyes fell closed and he basked in the wonderful warmth. The human contact, freely given; the compassion and understanding in the man's words. The softness of his voice, and the logic of his sentiments. It felt like, for the first time ever, Harry was truly being understood. He felt like some part of him was being wrapped up in a warm blanket and he was being held by someone who cared – someone who would take all his worries away – and he wanted so badly to just lay back in that blanket and those open arms and let go of all of his stress and all of his worries. Let go of the responsibilities and expectations and just let someone take care of him for a while instead.

And then the moment ended abruptly as the hand was removed with a soft pat and Professor Monroe stood up.

Harry was jarred by the sudden crash, but thought he held himself together pretty well, all things considered.

Perhaps his reaction was a bit extreme, but he couldn't quite get his mind to go that far when it was still fogged over and desperately longing for that feeling – that contact – to return.

“Oh, I was wondering if you had given any thought to coming to the debate club?” Monroe asked suddenly as he waved his wand and the tea set began to tidy itself up.

“Huh? Oh, er... not really. Hermione really wants to go. She was really excited, and she asked me to go with her, so I'll probably go, I guess. I don't want to really do any of the debating stuff though...”

“I think it would be a good idea for you, actually.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, skeptically.

“Learning the art of public speaking isn't all about politicians giving pandering speeches. The debate club sharpens your mental wits and teaches you how to respond and react quickly and most effectively when faced with a verbal argument. Learning good debate techniques can help a great deal in publicly defending yourself as well. I can imagine it's a skill you might need as you grow older. You need to learn how to immediately put your thoughts into coherent arguments in order to best defend your ideas and your instincts. Otherwise people who do have those skills will walk all over you.”

“Oh... I guess I hadn't really thought about that.”

“Well, think about it. In the end, it's up to you, but I would definitely enjoy your company at the club,” Monroe said with an impish grin that set Harry's heart all a flutter again and he had to fight off a blush.

“I... I'll think about it. Er, well, yeah, I'll be there,” Harry finally said a bit more decisively. Monroe smiled widely, looking very pleased, and Harry couldn't help but smile back, feeling wonderful that he'd pleased the man so. He had an amazing smile.

“Great. It's going to be meeting Sunday mornings – and by morning, I mean 10am, so it's not all that early. You can still get a good weekend lay in if you want,” he said with a grin and Harry chuckled lightly. We probably won't have a scheduled open debate until late October, I would think. The first meeting will be next Sunday.”

“Yeah, okay, I'll be there. I'll tell Hermione too. I'm sure she'll be thrilled.”

It became obvious that things were drawing to a close at that point. Professor Monroe reiterated that Harry could come to him with any questions or problems and then said he'd make sure to get him a list of solicitors in a day or two. Harry thanked him for the tea and for the talk. They exchanged polite goodbyes and Harry left feeling light and somewhat giddy.
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Professor Monroe