TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD
Summary: Harry is invited, in his Sixth Year, to become the Hogwarts DADA Professor under an assumed name. Long lost secrets of his past are revealed, and there is more to close friends than there seems. Re-write of an old fic; H/Hr.
Rating: T (just in case)
Pairing/s: Harry/Hermione. Already said that. YEAH.
Story Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. The only thing that's mine is the story line.
If you were to walk down Privet Drive, with its perfectly straight boxed hedges and its identical houses, the happy families laughing as they ate dinner together or a husband and wife planting a garden, you would think it to be a perfectly normal, insignificant neighborhood. You would notice nothing aloof with the serene trees, the rosebushes, the whitewashed houses and the dark oak doors. Only if you looked deeper would you see the one house that stood out against their bleariness, the one house that somehow managed to look the most bleary of all.
Only if you looked deeper would you see the sadness and hatred that haunted it, would shivers run up your spine.
Those with far too much free time or a nosiness about them would see a skinny woman, a large man, and a boy with the man's build sitting at a table through the window, laughing and eating; a perfect family scene. But they would also see the boy sitting at the side window, swinging his legs, his short, spiky black hair gently caressed by the wind and a profound sadness haunting his bright green eyes.
This boy had a slight build; it looked almost as though the wind would blow him away. He had round black glasses with tape on the bridge and a crack in the right lens, and an almost gaunt face with no traces of youth in it. Even his height gave nothing away; he stood at 5'10", and had long legs with knobbly knees and the sort of stretched look to his skin that noted a recent growth spurt.
Many would not think this boy anything unusual; a transfer student, perhaps, or an adopted child or distant relation. His name gave no insight to his nature; "Harry Potter" was an almost absurdly common to most, the sort of name that just blends in with the crowd. But a select group of people would stare at any mention of that name, some with awe and some with disgust. For Harry Potter was not a transfer student, adopted child, or distant relation of the residents of Number Four, and he was not, at all, a normal boy. You see, Harry was the nephew of the man and woman living in the house, and not only was he known as the Boy-Who-Lived; he was a wizard as well.
His eyes were drawn to the sky as he picked out a dark shape flying towards him, gradually gaining colour and form until it could be recognized as a dark grey owl with ruffled feathers. The owl swooped in and landed on Harry's arm, and the wizard sighed before turning and hopping off the windowsill to move to the desk in the cluttered room. He set the owl next to an empty cage; the bird immediately occupied itself with gobbling food out of the bowl next to the cage and, as an afterthought, sticking it's leg out towards Harry, a letter attached.
He smiled wryly, accepting the envelope. "Thanks for that," he said, his voice somewhat hoarse with disuse, reaching out an index finger to stroke the bird's head. "I was beginning to wonder why you were here." The owl cooed, and he chuckled softly before sliding a finger under the Hogwarts seal and opening the letter.
I realize that we did not part on the best of terms this past year. I wish to apologize once again and offer my condolences over your godfather's death. He was a good man, and will be sorely missed.
Unfortunately, my letter is not merely a social one. I am afraid that unless I can find a suitable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor within the week, the Ministry will be appointing one of their own once more. As such, I have a rather unique offer.
You did an amazing job with the DA last year Harry, and as such I would like to offer you the Defense position this upcoming school year…
Harry dropped the letter in shock. Dumbledore had finally lost whatever he had left of his mind. Him? Teaching? The very idea was absurd!
Or was it? Dumbledore was right, he had done rather well with the DA last year… not nearly good enough, but it had been fun teaching. And Hermione had written him to say that all but a handful of the Fifth and Seventh Years that had been in the program had gotten O's on the OWLs and NEWTs respectively in DADA…That was pretty good, wasn't it? Shaking his head, he turned back to the letter.
I understand this may come as a shock to you, Harry, but you are easily qualified. You have received the highest DADA score on your OWL since the program was started, and have been top of your class in DADA every year, with Miss Granger a close second. If anyone has what is needed for this job, it's you.
Please send your reply as soon as you can, whether it is positive or negative.
The bespectacled boy put the letter down with a heavy sigh, thinking for a moment before a determined look crossed his face and he picked up a sheet of parchment on which he scrawled a single word and his name.
AN: Okay, so, I'M ALIVE! YAY! I'm very sorry for not updating "Averto Vicis;" life has been EXTREMELY busy as of late. The deal with THIS story though:
This is a rewrite of an earlier story that I deleted a while back.
This WILL be Harry/Hermione.
I have the first chapter written, and it will be posted in about a week. After that, I don't know how often I'll be able to update, what with school and all.
Even if I don't post for a while, THIS STORY IS NOT ABANDONED! Neither is "Averto Vicis." I WILL write, no matter HOW evil my schedule is.
The next chapter mostly consists of letters. MOST CHAPTERS WON'T. So, the next chapter isn't a prime example of what my chapters are like. YEAH.
I think that's all… THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS READING THIS. Especially to those people who kept me on their Author Alert list, and are reading this even though it isn't AV. YOU ARE ALL AMAZING:)