-1Well, we'll see how this story goes. I'm getting rather fond of it. . I even started the second chappie -le gasp-

At any rate (DISCLAIMER) I do not own any characters of the Harry Potter series or any related material. Sadly. However, I do own any different magical theories that I come up with as well as any original characters. Ask to use them.

Fanged Frisbee

The sun set. A new day would come. How long it would take, or what it would bring is the question in matter. Would the sun rise again? Would the moon set? What would happen if, only one time, it didn't. Would the universe be sent out of orbit and spiral into nothing? Or would everything react normally, unharmed by the sudden disruption. There's only one way to find out. . .

Harry's wand clattered to the floor. A few of the teenagers in the back chuckled, while others roared with laughter. "That's what happens when you say the incantation that way," he said blushing, covering his mistake. He never thought that teaching people younger than him would make him so nervous. Teaching his peers during those miserable times of Umbridge came easy to him, but this did not. Harry repeated the incantation, and a shimmering blue shield erupted from his wand, giving him a eight by seven foot area where spells would bounce off.

"That shield will only stop lower to mid powered spells," he said, finally getting the attention of the class again. As much as he wanted to begin to teach them the real knowledge of defending against the Dark Arts, he had to follow the guidelines set out by the Ministry of Magic. Or what was left of it. After the Final Battle between him and Voldemort, the Ministry was left in shambles. It all had came back to the beginning of it all, in the Room of Prophecy, where Harry defeated the Dark Lord. It wasn't with a spell, especially not the killing curse, but with love. Somehow Harry had transferred all of his memories, most notably the ones of happiness or enlightenment, Voldemort was destroyed. Since Voldemort was essentially soulless, the horcrux basically destroyed itself.

"Professor, I really don't understand why this would be useful, serious Wizard Duels don't occur much today," said Melanie Prewitt, a bright young lady of Hufflepuff who reminded him so much of his friend Hermione.

"There are still Dark Wizards, and probably always will be. Not to mention the Dark Wizards who still support Voldemort and will stop at nothing to resurrect him."

The mousy-haired boy directly beside Melanie whispered to his friend in front of him, "Isn't that impossible?"

"Yes, Boyd," Harry said, directing his comment to the boy who had whispered in front of him, "it's impossible. It doesn't mean one won't try."

After Harry had given them all their assignment, the dull bell had rung, giving the signal that the next class was going to begin soon. He smiled as he saw all of the second-year Hufflepuffs shuffle by him. It had ceased to amaze him that people still raked his forehead to see his scar, to see the symbol of all Harry had done. As the last Hufflepuff made his way out of the door, he sighed and prepared himself for his next class. It was then that he noticed how weary he had been, and easily frustrated he could get. His slightly receding hairline showed the symbol of age, but he was not yet that old. Only twenty-eight, and the same skinny frame that he always had still was with him. Harry's hair was still unmanageable, though with his age one could see it thinning out.

A few Gryffindors began to walk in, babbling about the Yule Ball and how Headmaster Snape was supposedly booking The Athame's, which is the newest punk sensation in the Wizarding World's music culture. He hadn't kept up with any of it, though during these times of absolute peace there was no reason why he shouldn't.

Standing up, he greeted the Gryffindors to their second week of Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

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Severus Snape, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, paced. With this new bit of knowledge, he had to act quickly. Yet, not too quickly, for too many lives and fates could be entwined in this. Acting too rashly would only bring destruction.

"What is it, Severus?" squeaked Headmaster Dippet from his picture frame. Severus flicked his hand at Dippet, and continued thinking. He had never thought that he would be rewarded for his duties to the Wizarding Communities by becoming the Headmaster. Betraying, to the eyes of many, Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, he turned around and betrayed Voldemort, which was he and Dumbledore's intention's all along. The Unbreakable Vow, which Dumbledore was aware of, forced Snape to kill Dumbledore. Though neither Severus nor Dumbledore knew of the fate of each other, how things happened turned out for the best. Voldemort's pride began to overtake him as Dumbledore was gone, and he thought he had won. With some false information, he got Harry and Voldemort to the same place, the Ministry of Magic.

"Severus, what is the matter?" demanded Dumbledore, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles in his portrait. Severus couldn't ignore Albus, he never could.

"The Reordered Ministry of Magic (as they've been calling themselves) have gotten intelligence that the Dark Lord had pointed out an heir to his physical possessions, meaning that-"

"What is that supposed to mean? This heir gets a villa in Montreal or something?" Dippet joked, his slightly broad humor rolling over both Severus and Dumbledore.

Snape's lip curled. He had never liked Dippet, or his comments. "No, this was more than just a normal inheritance, this is a magical one. Apparently certain powers, and the legacy, of Voldemort would be passed to this heir. Which would explain why there's been so many Neo-Death Eater activity recently, they have hope of an heir."

Dumbledore pondered this idea in his frame, raising his eyebrows as he say's it. "Voldemort's," half of the portraits, and Severus, cringed at the name, "legacy can only be passed to an heir of Slytherin. He was supposedly the last one. However, an exception to that would be-"

"I'm well aware of the exception, Albus," snapped Snape, his frustrations coming to a boil. "I'm well aware."