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Lemon Drops and Blood Pops	By : TokiMirage Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 12434 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns all that is Harry Potter. I own everything else. I make no money writing this.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Lemon Drops and Blood Pops
wWwWw
Chapter Six:
wWwWw
Getting an entire course organized with only three weeks notice was not the craziest thing Harry had ever done, but it didn’t change the fact that he wished Hermione was here. He didn’t want to go to Dumbledore before school even started and make the man he respected think he wasn’t right for the job, so he locked himself in the bookstore for days, trudging through volumes and volumes of useless garbage trying to find a book that wasn’t all wrong.
He determined after a week of useless searching that he was going to have to write his own series. Which he totally didn’t have time for. That just pissed him off. He’d have to teach the entire course from memory. How was he supposed to give McGonagall a book list if there WEREN’T ANY BOOKS?!! The only decent books in existence he couldn’t use because they were called ‘dark’ by the ministry! He’d bought more useful material from Borgin in the past couple days than he’d come across during his entire time at Flourish and Blotts!
Giving up on the book list, he locked himself in his room above Under the Wood and started sketching out an outline from year one to year seven, having to revise it many times as he made adjustments and remembered things that were buried in the deepest recesses of his mind. It was only thanks to Darcy and Irene that he even ate anything, being so deeply entrenched in his task. He never even noticed the conversations the girls had downstairs after closing time, about how they had never seen him anything but lazy before in their entire life.
It was three days before the beginning of September when McGonagall came crashing in. Figuratively, of course, because Minerva wasn’t the type to crash into anything.
“I’d like to speak to Professor Underwood, if you please?”
Harry heard the voice from upstairs and nearly groaned. He still wasn’t done revising his outline yet! Letting out a burst of air, he collected his stack of notebooks and the most recent draft of his outline. Might as well get down there before Darcy dragged him out of his pit.
“Coming!” he called down the steps, looking back at the mess that had become of his room during the past week and a half. He was really glad at this point that he had used Muggle notebooks instead of parchment to write in. If he’d used parchment, it would be all over the room now with how many times he knocked things over. Giving his head a shake, he took his stack downstairs to face the music.
McGonagall looked a bit younger than Harry remembered, but she had the same no-nonsense he remembered her for. He’d missed her.
“Mr. Underwood. I have been waiting for your course list and outline for the past two weeks, and have yet to receive anythi…” she trailed off as he dropped his pile of notebooks on the counter, glad she had come right before closing.
He smiled brightly at her, well aware of how he looked in the mirror. Darcy and Irene had been forcing him to take showers by threatening to burn all his books. He’d caved to the devils’ wishes, but he still looked awful from the lack of sleep. “Hello, Professor McGonagall-“
“Please, call me Minerva, Mr.-“
“Then I insist you call me Harry.” He smiled, knowing he had her trapped. Her lips twitched slightly in amusement, but Harry could only tell because he had known her for so long.
“Very well. Now… what is all of this?”
Harry looked down at the stack of notebooks. “This? This is the course material.” She stared at the stack. “And this is my outline. It’s almost done.” He handed her a small, crumpled stack of papers.
“This is muggle paper.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes? So? Pens and paper are far more easy to deal with than quills and parchment, I assure you. This would be an even bigger mess if there weren’t metal coils to hold everything together.” He gave one of the notebooks a good whack.
“What about your book list?” she asked faintly.
“There isn’t one. I spent seven days in Flourish and Blotts trying to find books that didn’t appal me on the deepest level, and failed miserably. So if I manage to last more than a year, I’ll be writing my own school series. In the meantime I will provide every student with the material as they require it.” He smiled, knowing it was rather worn around the edges. He hadn’t had a project like this to bury himself in, in a long time. He’d missed it.
Minerva nodded slowly, still eyeing the stack of notebooks nervously. “Very well, I shall take a copy of the syllabus then.”
Harry waved his hand and a duplicate appeared, once again forgetting to draw his wand.
Minerva’s eyebrows rose. “Thank you for your time, Harry. You are free to come to Hogwarts any time in the next three days to pick and settle into your new quarters. Have a good evening.”
Harry smiled. “You too, Pro- I mean, Minerva.”
She nodded and left the store.
Harry felt like falling asleep right then and there.
“Come on, Harry. Let’s get you to bed,” Irene said softy, gently taking his hand and leading him back upstairs, leaving Darcy to gather the notebooks.
wWwWw
Harry looked around his new quarters with a nostalgic smile. He’d been tempted to take Hermione’s old rooms, but he knew the constant reminder wouldn’t do him any good. So he picked some rooms in a part of the castle where he had always had a hunch the Ravenclaw dormitory was hidden, safely distant from both Gryffindor and Slytherin.
While unpacking he’d received a letter from Dumbledore requesting another meeting, this time to discuss the syllabus McGonagall had brought to him. Harry hoped that that wouldn’t be all they talked about, but he knew not to expect anything. Expectations led to disappointments, after all.
“Ah, good morning, Harrison. Is it alright if I call you that?” Dumbledore asked from where he sat behind his desk, a friendly smile on his face.
Harry was staring around the office in shock, as half the trinkets he’d looked at before had been replaced with other things. Had Voldemort had a tantrum like Harry had in sixth year after the death of Sirius? He didn’t see why else all the instruments would be replaced.
“Harrison?”
Harry snapped out of it. “Harry, please. May I call you Albus?”
“Certainly.” Blue eyes looked at what had caught Harry’s attention. “I see you noticed the changes in decoration.”
“What happened to the old ones?” Harry asked curiously, already suspecting the answer.
“There was a bit of an accident, I’m afraid. But only things easily replaced were damaged.”
Harry suppressed an amused smile, wandering over to the new globe with metal circles swirling around it. He poked it curiously, not noticing the blue eyes closely tracking his movements. It started spinning magnificently, the light bouncing off it to decorate the walls with a pretty pattern. He smiled slightly, and went to the next. “I’ve always wondered what all these… I mean, items like these do.” He looked at Dumbledore, who was watching him silently. “Do they even have a purpose?” He’d never had the opportunity to ask.
Dumbledore smiled mysteriously from where he sitting behind his desk. “Not all. Some are attached to the wards, to inform me if anyone is fatally injured, while others are simply curious.”
Harry pointed at his favourite, the globe. “What’s this one do?”
“It’s job…” Dumbledore began somewhat dramatically. “Is to be shiny.”
Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Of course. I might’ve known.”
“Would you like a spot of tea?” Dumbledore asked, pulling out his wand with a questioning look.
Harry found himself surprised. Had Dumbledore actually forgotten to give the customary offer of tea the moment he came through the door? Before, he had been well known for offering you tea even if you had come blasting through the door with Dementors on your tail. He must have gotten side-tracked.
“Do you have coffee, perchance? It’s too early in the morning to be thinking clearly.” Harry grumbled the last bit, collapsing into a plush chair. He closed his eyes and sighed in content at the cushiony feeling. Now, with his caffeine fix, everything would be right in the world.
He knew the instant coffee was in the room, as the delectable mixture teased his sensitive nose. He found it floating a foot away, and snatched it out of the air. Putting it under his nose, he took a nice long sniff and let his eyes close in pleasure. He took a testing sip. His eyes snapped back open in surprise. “This isn’t half bad. Thanks.” He smiled, taking a longer sip of the black mixture.
Dumbledore looked amused. “So, Harry. I heard from Minerva that you were having difficulties finding proper reading material for your students?”
Harry groaned and took another sip of coffee to appease himself. “You have no idea how atrocious the selection was, Pro- Albus. And I mean atrocious! It made me want to rip them all apart, take the decent pages from each, and stick them all into one binding.” He shuddered. “I mean, any hunter worth their salt knows that the only way to kill a vampire is through beheading, not any of that wooden stake or garlic crap. That’s muggle folk-lore. And how to deal with Nagropucks, which suffocate children in their sleep. One does not put Alfosbane around the bed of the child, you’ll start attracting bloody Narkbeetles!” He shook his head. “It’s simply abominable what they’ll print these days. Just because you can string three words together does not mean you are qualified to write a book on dark creatures!” He took another angry sip of coffee.
Dumbledore looked positively amused. “Do you have a solution for this lack of educated textbook writing?”
“I’ve been collecting books from Borgin,” here two auburn eyebrows rose, “and taking out all useful defence information I can find. I’m planning on writing the textbooks for each year during my free time. Oh, and don’t tell anyone that Borgin has books. It took me 30 minutes of threatening him with dark curses to get him to let me see them. I’d hate for him to go out of business. Some of the stuff he has isn’t all that dark.”
Dumbledore had an unreadable look on his face. “And what if children are getting their hands on those books?”
Harry immediately thought of Tom, and knew Dumbledore probably was too. “There’s nothing you can do to stop those who are attracted to the dark from going after it. They’ll always find what they’re looking for, whether it’s in a dead dark wizard’s library or a bookstore. We can only hope to educate them in the dangers of the darkness before it’s too late for them.”
Dumbledore still looked troubled. “But what if you want to stop such a child? What if you want to save them?”
Harry knew the older wizard wouldn’t like his response to that. While some dark wizards were capable of controlling and directing their addictions away from the harm of others, some were not so capable. His job had been executing the solution to such a problem. Killing them. “You can’t save everybody, Albus,” he whispered. “Every person has a right to make their own choices.”
They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks. Harry reminded himself to get Dumbledore a tin of lemon drops for his birthday. When was his birthday, anyway? And how old was he? Maybe Harry would have to settle for giving Dumbledore a Christmas gift until he could dig into the Ministry records and figure it out.
Harry was perfectly comfortable to sit there for hours, just drinking in the atmosphere of the office, but it was not meant to be.
“I’m sorry, Harry, but it seems I have a guest arriving shortly,” Dumbedore said, his twinkle resuming after their rather depressing topic.
Harry nodded and stood, putting his near-empty coffee cup on a side table. “Should I assume that my syllabus is acceptable? And that I can just hand the students the notes as they need them?”
“Yes, yes. Of course. I will entrust it all to your capable hands.” Here Dumbledore stood and walked around his desk, confusing Harry. He held out a hand.
Harry smiled and shook it, hiding his surprise at the spark of magic that ran up his arm from the contact. He gently removed his hand from the grip. “Thanks for hiring me.”
Dumbledore smiled jovially. “It was my pleasure.”
Harry nodded respectfully and turned to leave the room, feeling blue eyes settle on his back.
wWwWw
Harry had a devious plan.
Currently he was sitting on his desk at the front of his classroom, watching his new seventh years talk about girls, lunch, and Quidditch. One of the first thing Harry had noticed about the difference in the times was the fewer number of students. This made for an even smaller class of all four houses doing their NEWTs for that year.
Since all of his upper year classes were on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, he’d devised a plan to shock them out of their lethargy, and then he would give a toned-down demonstration of the same thing for the younger years on Thursday and Friday.
Unfortunately for the students, he’d been up all night (missing the sorting) double and triple checking all his notes and making sure he was organized for the first month of classes. The house elves had run out of coffee at 3 am, so he’d had to make runs into London to buy a decent cup. And then he’d missed breakfast because he was searching for the perfect espresso in Brazil.
Because he was in such a terrible mood, he’d devised the most scandalous way to shock his poor little students.
With a flick of his wand, he let the invisibility spell drop and barked out, “SIT DOWN AND SHUDAAAP.” The class went quiet as they stared at him in stupefied horror. Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He’d cast a glamour on himself that aged him 70 years and gave him a patched eye, reminiscent of Moody. Another charm had disguised his voice to sound like the gnarly appearance he wore.
He continued with his charade. “I’m old! And I’ve been pulled outa retirement to teach you little fuckers, so PAY ATTENTION!” No one made a sound. Harry didn’t know if the looks of scandalous shock on their faces was from his language or his manner. He suppressed a snicker.
“That’s better.” With a grunt, he eased off the desk and onto the ground, his ‘wooden’ leg making a crack as it hit the ground. Harry had been taught by the best, after all. Making a glamour that interacted with the real world was a piece of cake after the brutal training he’d gone through.
“Now. Whoever can tell me what garbage the last teacher taught you for the last six years gets 20 points for their house.”
When nobody raised an arm, he narrowed his eyes. “One point from every student for being utterly spineless.”
Shocked gasps of outrage spread through the room, but slowly a couple hands rose into the air. He nodded at the one closest to him, who had put his hand up first. “Name and house.”
“Sean McFinny, sir. Slytherin.”
Harry couldn’t keep his eyebrows from going up. A Slytherin with a spine? And his name didn’t sound pureblood, so he must be a muggle-born or a half-blood. Probably got a lot shit for it, in that house.
“10 Points to Slytherin for growing a spine. Now, Mr. McFinny, would you care to tell this old man what you’ve learned so far?”
He nodded nervously, but his shoulders had straightened somewhat after his initial scare. He gave Harry a quick run-down of ‘Professor Kirtlebin’s’ old syllabus, and Harry was mildly impressed, but mostly disgusted. The man had had half a brain, at least, though obviously no real experience. The textbooks he’d picked had at least been the less horrible ones. They had actually contained at least half correct information.
“Thank you Mr. McFinny. That’s 20 points to Slytherin.”
And so he had to almost scrap his outline, because some holes and misinformation in their education were so glaringly painful he had to attempt to correct them first. The first class became more of a discussion of past lessons as Harry tried to correct the worst damage. He didn’t hand out any notes for that day, but he did give every student a copy of the ‘minutes’ he was recording for himself. That way they would know what they had talked about and be able to review the discussion.
“I want a one foot essay on dealing with common house-hold creatures that can be dangerous. If you have to, get creative. Thinking for yourself gets you extra points. Dismissed!”
wWwWw
The rest of his classes for the day were similar. Rumours spread quickly, and soon everyone was both terrified of his classes and eager to see him in person. It wasn’t until supper time that Harry actually went to the Great Hall.
The look on Minerva’s face would stay with Harry for the rest of his life.
Dumbledore just twinkled. It wasn’t the level of twinkle Harry was used to, but it warmed his heart to see it.
“Good evening, Mr. Underwood,” Dumbledore greeted, just loud enough that the entire hall could hear him, but not so loud that you could accuse him of doing it on purpose – which he was.
“Evenin’, Headmaster,” Harry gruffly greeted back, slipping into the chair on the man’s right which was, for some reason, empty. Minerva was on the man’s left. He wondered if this had been planned, or if they did it with all the new teachers.
“I trust your first classes have gone well?”
Harry got a full on twinkle right in the face. Oh, Dumbledore was amused all right. “They’re not hopeless, if that’s what yer askin’,” Harry said gruffly, reaching for a chicken leg and stuffing it in his mouth. He sent Dumbledore a quick message via Legilimency, basically saying ‘if you want in on the joke, do this’.
Dumbledore made a thoughtful ‘hmm’. “Isn’t there something you’re forgetting, Mr. Underwood?”
Harry pretended to be surprised, glad that Dumbledore was going with his charade. The man had always turned a blind eye to pranks in the other dimension, so Harry had hoped he was the same closet prankster here.
“Oh. Right.” And with that, he gave the students a show and let the glamour evaporate into smoke around him. Casting a subtle sonorous on himself, he said to the Great Hall. “Things aren’t always as they appear to be. This applies to Dark Arts, magical beings, and even your fellow wizard. Whoever remembers this lesson when I ask next class automatically gets 20 points.”
Enjoying the shocked looks on everyone’s faces, he dug into his chicken leg.
wWwWw
“That was quite the performance, Harry,” Minerva commented at the faculty meeting later that night.
Harry grinned, a giant cup of coffee in his hands. “Thanks!”
“Can I ask what prompted it?”
Harry noticed that most of the faculty were pretending that they weren’t listening just as eagerly as Minerva. He hid an amused smile by taking another gulp of coffee. When he noticed that his hands had a slight tremor, he glared down at them. “I’ve been awake for 36 hours. I was in a bad mood this morning.”
She, along with some other teachers, choked on their tea.
“It’s almost gotten to the point where coffee doesn’t help. I’m going to need 12 hours sleep tonight,” he commented, more to himself than anyone else. Since he had a class at ten the next morning, he calculated that he’d have to go to bed right after this meeting.
“Hopefully this meeting won’t keep you too long, then,” Dumbledore said jovially as he came through the door. Most of the faculty greeted him with either words or smiles. He sat down on a comfy chair by the fire. “For those of you who haven’t met him yet, this is Harry Underwood,” Dumbledore said, and then introduced the rest of the staff. Harry nodded a pleasant greeting to all. “Our first meeting of the year is normally a social affair, but sometimes there is business that must be taken care of. Is there anything someone would like to bring to the attention of all?”
Harry proceeded to watch with fascination as the teachers discussed students and teaching for the next half an hour. They talked about trouble students, bullies, home-sick first years, and even recent political shifts. Some of it interested Harry, but most of it was only paid half-attention to. He was extraordinarily tired.
“Harry?”
The new professor snapped out of his half-asleep state to see that some of the professors had shifted around the room, getting tea or moving closer to the fire as the temperature cooled. Dumbledore had moved to sit beside him in one of the plush chairs the farthest from the fire. Harry blinked. “Huh?”
“You needn’t stay any longer if you’re tired. Unless you want to place a bet on which house wins the House and Quidditch Cup.” His eyes twinkled in the firelight.
Harry choked on a sip of cold coffee. He stared at Dumbledore, wide-eyed. “The professors have a betting pool?”
The Headmaster laughed. “Yes. It’s something of a tradition.”
Harry thought about it for a second. From what he remembered of his history, Griffindor didn’t really make a comeback until his father joined the Quidditch team… “I’ll bet that Slytherin wins the Quidditch Cup and… Ravenclaw gets the House.”
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Why Ravenclaw?”
Harry gave him a bizarre look. “They’re bookworms. They get all the points in claaa-“ A huge yawn interrupted him. “Jeez. I really need to go to bed.” He tried to stand and almost stumbled as the room tilted around him. Dumbledore placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Are you alright, Harry?”
Blinking rapidly, Harry watched as the world came back into focus. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just got dizzy for a second. Really need sleep.”
Dumbledore nodded, eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern. “I’ll escort you to your rooms.”
Harry blinked slowly. Dumbledore had really blue eyes. “You sure? You don’t have to. And what about the bets?”
The Headmaster chuckled lightly as he pried the coffee cup from Harry’s fingers and then led the younger wizard from the room. “I’ll give our bets to Minerva later.”
“Minerva? Seriously? She doesn’t seem the type.”
Dumbledore hummed.
It took them ten minutes to get Harry back to his rooms with the wizard tripping over his own feet. He probably would have walked into every statue in the castle before finding his rooms if Dumbledore hadn’t been there.
When they finally arrived at their destination, Harry murmured the password to the portrait. “Thanks for your help.” He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. How often did one get stoned off tiredness and get escorted to their rooms by Dumbledore of all people? He’d totally made an ass out of himself.
“It was no trouble. I trust you can get yourself to bed without falling on anything?”
Harry laughed, and it sounded fake to his own ears. “Er, yeah. Sure. Sorry for being such a pain.”
Dumbledore chuckled softly and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Warmth spread from the contact. “It was no trouble, Harry. Have a good sleep.”
The blue eyes were really close, and Harry had to blink to clear his mind enough to come up with an answer. How come he always felt some sort of energy when Dumbledore touched him? Did it happen when two powerful wizards came into contact with one another? “Thanks. Good night.” He stumbled into the room, already feeling the loss of that touch.
Frowning to himself, he turned his clothes into nightwear and collapsed onto his bed. How bizarre. He was sure Dumbledore had touched him plenty of times before without the kind of effects he was experiencing now.
He never came up with an answer, as sleep came to swallow him whole.
-Toki Mirage-
Hey y’all. Been writing lots these last two days. (grins) 4,000 words total. BS chapter 7 will be updated as soon as Roos finishes musing it. Sorry for all of you who have to wait! Because it was actually finished before this chapter, but I’m not betaing or musing this fic with anybody. It’s all just my happy experiment. :) Which means as soon as it’s done, and I don’t see nuthin wrong with it, it gets posted. Happy reading!
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Lemon Drops and Blood Pops