Questions and Answers

Harry had been gone for less than a day and already Charlus found himself anticipating his return. Being left in command of the men wasn't anything new to him, but it was something he would never enjoy, and in truth, he was experiencing a bout of homesickness.

Being back in Britain had only made him long for the end of the war, long for a life where he needn't draw his wand to end the life of other men and have only Wizengamot meetings and the like to irk him.

He missed Britain more than he'd realised and spending the days he had there now teased him, and his thoughts of Dorea even more so.

She had asked him to write to her, their brief goodbye away from the ears of Arcturus having been little more than a hurried whisper and a teary smile when Charlus had promised he would send letters to her.

"He's a smarmy bastard," Yaxley growled as he entered what used to be a clothing shop that Charlus had claimed as his room.

"Who?"

"The bloody Spaniard."

Charlus nodded his agreement.

It had taken little time for the news that Harry had left to spread, and the Spanish Commander had all but swaggered through the streets of Bruges believing that he'd achieved a victory of sorts for Harry's punishment.

No one paid the man any heed, nor were they impressed by his puffed-out chest.

Everyone knew what had happened the night Harry had floored him, and they certainly didn't buy into the bravado of the Spanish Commander.

"He won't be so smug when Harry comes back," Charlus assured Yaxley.

Yaxley hummed irritably.

"Do you think I'd get a week of leave if I smack him in the mouth?"

Charlus snorted as he shook his head.

"I don't think it would work twice."

"Shame really," Gilbert broke in. "I'd punch the sod for free though."

"Or we could just fuck with him," Arcturus suggested. "Cast some flatulence charms or something similar."

Charlus chuckled.

"Didn't you do that to Stebbins in third year?" he asked.

"I might have," Arcturus replied thoughtfully. "I cursed Stebbins a lot at school, it's difficult to remember what I did and didn't do."

"Well, I'm sure it was all deserved, but I doubt he learned anything from it. I wonder what he's up to now."

"He got himself a job in the Department of International Cooperation," Arcturus informed him. "He's an assistant to an assistant of some sort."

"Sounds ambitious," Yaxley snorted.

Arcturus hummed disapprovingly.

"Well, at least it's quiet here for the time being," Gilbert pointed out, "and with Evans not being here, we can take it easy."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Charlus replied with a grin as he held up a sheet of parchment Harry had left behind. "Training will be continuing."

Gilbert groaned dramatically.

"Any chance of going off sick?"

"None whatsoever."

"Bugger," Gilbert muttered. "I wonder what Evans is doing with his time off," he mused aloud.

"Probably pulling kids out of burning orphanages, or entering underground fighting tournaments against creatures," Yaxley said with a shrug and smirk of amusement tugging at his lips.

"Or getting some," Gilbert interjected. "First thing I'm doing when I get out of here is finding myself a woman to dip my wick in. Evans is a lucky bastard."

The other three men looked at him in disgust, and Gilbert frowned.

"What?" he questioned.

"Harry's not like that," Charlus chuckled, "and you're speaking to the wrong blokes about it."

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked, his frown deepening. "You're telling me you didn't find a willing woman to warm yourself up with when you were away?"

Yaxley laughed heartily as he shook his head.

"We're purebloods, Gil," he pointed out. "We don't just do that."

"Why not?"

Charlus, Yaxley, and Arcturus looked at one another, each urging the other men to answer the question put to them.

"Because," Charlus sighed, "we cannot risk having bastard children with women we won't marry, and there are many women who would do just that for either gold, or to see a child of theirs be a lord of a pureblood family. We have to be careful with things like that happening."

"Bloody hell, I didn't think of that," Gilbert grumbled. "What if I got a pureblood woman pregnant?"

"That depends on the family," Yaxley broke in, "but you'd probably be murdered, and the woman disowned."

"I'll stay clear of your lot then," Gilbert declared.

"It's for your own good," Yaxley pointed out, though Gilbert chuckled amusedly, his eyes alight with a familiar mischief.

"What is it?" Arcturus pressed.

"Well, you say that none of you can get your thrills, but there's one thing you've forgotten."

"What?" Yaxley huffed.

Gilbert couldn't contain his grin as he said nothing for a moment but looked at each of them in turn.

"Evans isn't a pureblood."

(Break)

Somehow, Harry had managed to fall back to sleep after being rudely awoken by the purveying silence of the castle, and as he attempted to stretch his seldomly rested arms, just how his sleep had come came rushing back to the forefront of his mind.

He was not alone in his bed, the warm weight of the woman wrapped around him and draped across his chest removing any vestige of thought that he had merely dreamed of her coming to his room.

She had, and the two of them had lost themselves in one another in a fit of desperate lovemaking, their actions conveying everything they felt.

Desire, passion, lust.

In the hours they'd shared in this room, they had experienced them all, and even in the light of day, Harry felt them still, though he could not ignore the sense of trepidation that also filled him.

Minerva had been his best friend since he'd arrived here.

Yes, they had skirted the boundaries of their friendship, and often put a toe over the line of what should be acceptable, but never had they succumbed to the allure of want they had in the early hours.

How had it even happened?

Had Harry been so foolish to believe that they had merely been friends all this time, or had there always been more?

He knew the answer without needing to ponder it.

Minerva had always been more familiar with him than any other, had no qualms about him seeing her in the nude during the times he watched over her during her transformations.

They had held hands, shared secrets that no other knew, and even kissed on occasion, but none of it compared to the uninhibited way they caved to their desires so easily, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Harry knew he cared deeply for this woman, missed her whilst he was away, and even when he had seen her only moments before, but had he truly been so dense, or had he simply not acknowledged what he knew there was between them?

Now, it mattered not.

They had fallen into each other, recklessly perhaps, but Harry had no regrets.

What they had shared was the most wonderful experience of his life, and given the chance, he would not change a thing.

"I can hear you thinking," Minerva mumbled. "Don't do that. Don't ruin what happened by thinking about it too much."

"Would it ruin it?" Harry asked.

Minerva didn't answer for a moment, but when she did, her voice was quiet, almost vulnerable in a way Harry had never heard from the woman.

"Not for me."

Those simple three words warmed him more than the feel of her draped across his chest.

"Nor me," he replied.

He felt Minerva relax, releasing a deep breath as she somehow managed to push herself closer to him.

"I thought it would for you," she whispered. "I almost didn't come, but I would have regretted it if I hadn't."

"Why?" Harry asked curiously.

"Because as hard as it is knowing you do what you do, there is no one I would have wanted to be with more than you. Even if after you regretted it, I wouldn't have. I would sooner live my life knowing I shared this with you than spend the rest of it not having done so, no matter what happens now."

"What does happen now?" Harry asked.

Minerva shrugged.

"Do we have to speak about it?"

Harry shook his head.

"I don't suppose we do."

Minerva nodded gratefully as she ran a finger along the puckered flesh the shell explosion left behind.

"I didn't realise how many of these you had," she murmured.

"Scars?"

Minerva nodded once more, and Harry chuckled.

"I don't really notice them anymore," he sighed. "I've just collected them over the years and will probably add a few more along the way."

Minerva shook her head as she snorted.

"Of course, you will," she murmured. "So long as you come back, I don't care how many you have."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked as she suddenly stood.

Minerva raised an eyebrow as she allowed the sheet to drop away from her, exposing her nude body to him once more.

She really was beautiful, and Harry felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her.

It wasn't his first time seeing her, but she was a woman grown now, and the circumstances were certainly different.

"Well, you may be on leave, but I still have work to do, and I don't think people seeing me leaving your room would be for the best, do you?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, probably not," he agreed.

"Will I see you at breakfast?" Minerva asked as she retrieved her wand from where it had been thrown to the floor along with their clothes.

With a wave of it, she was dressed, and her hair no longer tousled.

"I'll be there."

"Good," Minerva declared, her eyes softening as she leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. "You're a hard man to walk away from, Harry," she whispered.

Before Harry could respond, she was gone, his own question asked to the empty room.

"Then why are you?"

For several moments, he laid on the bed reliving the night he and Minerva had spent together before deciding that he needed to shower and prepare himself for the day.

He didn't know what would happen between them, and he didn't want to dwell on it much, not whilst he was too busy simply enjoying what had happened.

Trying his best not to ponder it too deeply, Harry left his room when he had readied himself, and headed to the Great Hall where breakfast was in full swing.

As had happened the previous evening, all eyes were on him as he entered and made his way to the staff table.

"Did you sleep well, Harry?" Armando questioned.

"Well enough," Harry replied as he helped himself to some bacon, sausages, and eggs.

"Good," Rosalina broke in. "You will be with me during my first lesson today, in charms for second, and then transfiguration for the third."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"Not at all," Rosalina replied with a smirk.

Harry shook his head amusedly as he tucked into his breakfast.

Some things never really did change, and Rosalina certainly wouldn't.

"If I keep showing up for the meals, that lot will starve," he pointed out, nodding towards the students who were still staring at him.

Armando released a deep breath.

"Would you be amenable to speaking with them this afternoon if lessons are finished earlier?"

"About what?"

Armando chuckled.

"To most of them, Harry, you're a hero that is leading the forces against Grindelwald. I'm sure many of them have questions they wish to ask."

Harry looked upon the students, the looks of awe reminding him of the very first time he'd entered this hall as a first year and he had been called up to be sorted.

"Fine," he agreed.

Immediately, the students began whispering excitedly amongst themselves, and Harry shook his head.

He was no hero, certainly no more so than any other man that he fought alongside, but these were kids who didn't understand that.

Perhaps by the end of the day they would.

"Come on, Evans," Rosalina urged. "Straighten your face out and move your backside."

"But I wasn't finished my bacon," Harry said grumpily as he was hoisted from his seat.

"Then you should have been quicker," Rosalina responded, all but dragging him from the hall, much to the amusement of Minerva who smiled at Harry as he looked back.

It had been some time since he'd been in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom where he had spent countless hours under the tutelage of Rosalina Nott as she helped him hone and develop his skills as a wizard.

He owed the woman so much for all she had done for him, for all the effort she had put into turning him into the best duellist he could be, and though it had ultimately come to nothing with the outbreak of war, every second had been worth it.

Rosalina was still one of the most excellent witches he had met, and without her, he doubted he would be where he was now.

"How have you been?" Harry asked her whilst they waited for the students to arrive.

"Spending most of my days worrying about you," Rosalina answered honestly. "It's difficult sitting on the side-lines when someone you care about is mixing themselves up in a such a mess out there."

"Ah, Rosie, I didn't know you cared that much," Harry snorted.

The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

"Shut up, Evans," she huffed, the slight grin tugging at her lips showing him that she wasn't truly irritated with him. "Do you want my job when the war is over?" she asked bluntly.

"What?"

Rosalina offered him a sad smile.

"The war won't last forever," she pointed out, "and when it is done, I think I'll be ready to take a step back. I want someone I know that can fill these enormous shoes to take over."

Harry chuckled.

"No one could replace you here," he sighed. "I've not thought about what I will do. Honestly, I'm not sure teaching is my thing."

"Well, think about it at least, Harry," Rosalina urged. "I think there's so much you could offer Hogwarts."

"Is that why you wanted me here?"

Rosalina shook her head.

"No, you being here now is just so that I can somewhat enjoy something of the past, when you were nothing more than my student, and not the man the world expects to end the biggest war in centuries."

Her rare words of affection warmed him, and Harry appreciated them more than she knew.

It seemed that everywhere he went, he was little more than a mysterious figure who did or wanted nothing more than to put an end to Grindelwald, that his sole purpose in life was to protect them.

Rosalina didn't see him that way.

First and foremost, she was his friend and mentor, someone who never forgot the boy she had taken the time to tutor to pursue a career in duelling.

"Alright, settle down," she called as the room filled with an array of students from each of the houses. "As you can see, we have something of a treat today. For those of you that have had your head buried in the sand these past months, this is Evans, and just like you, he used to be a student here."

Once more, Harry found himself under the awe-filled gaze of a group of teenagers.

"Today, Evans here is going to be my assistant whilst we continue with our work in duelling. I'm sure you will find him to be quite capable. On your feet!"

The students stood and Rosalina swept the tables to the side of the room.

"Now, can anyone tell me the difference between duelling and being in a battle?"

An olive-skinned girl in robes trimmed with green and silver raised her hand tentatively.

"Zabini?" Rosalina prompted.

"A duel is sanctioned by a governing body and is usually fought one to one," the girl answered.

"Take a point for Slytherin," Rosalina praised. "Miss Zabini is correct. Duelling is controlled and is a platform to demonstrate your skill as you attempt to subdue your opponent. How is that different to a battle like the ones taking place on the continent?"

This time, it was a boy in Hufflepuff who raised his hand.

"Go ahead, Moody."

Harry's eyes snapped towards the teenage Alastor Moody who he hadn't spotted until now.

"A battle has no rules," the boy answered. "It is chaotic and just because you may be fighting one person, which doesn't mean someone else won't try and kill you. You may even find yourself fighting multiple at once."

"Evans, what do you think of Moody's summary?"

Harry nodded.

"I think he has the right measure of it."

Moody smiled, though the gesture did not reach his eyes.

"Good, to begin with, you will work in pairs as you practice shielding against minor spells only. I do not wish for anyone to be sent to the hospital wing. Evans and I will circulate and offer some pointers where needed. Do raise your hand if you would like some further assistance. Off you go."

As the students set to work, Harry watched them closely.

It was clear that some had been practicing this particular technique for a very long time, their wand work smooth as they cast both spells and shields.

The Zabini girl was exceptionally proficient for a fifth year, the way she positioned her body minimising the target for her enemy to aim at a textbook stance.

"Do you want to be a duellist?" he asked as he approached.

His question distracted her, and Harry had to flick the spell away that her housemate had attempted to disarm her with.

"You're really fast," she gasped, her cheeks reddening.

"You have to be if you're going to be a duellist," Harry replied, doing his best to ignore the way she was looking at him.

The girl nodded.

"I'd like to be a duellist, but I don't know if I'm good enough."

Harry offered her a smile.

"You have good form already," he praised. "You should begin working on chaining your spells together and non-verbal casting. There is a book in the restricted section called The Duelling Deluxe, I'm sure Professor Nott will have no objection to you accessing it. I'll write the title down for you."

"Thank you, Commander Evans," the girl replied gratefully. "Could you show me a spell chain?"

With a nod, Harry conjured a dummy and gestured for the girl's partner to step aside before sending a series of spells at his creation.

"Nothing happened," Zabini said disappointedly when no effects could be seen.

"This chain would see the victim vomiting up slugs, dancing an amusing jig, and trying to sing whilst slapping himself in the face," he explained, much to the girl's amusement, "but if you want to see something more physical…"

He cast a trio of spells this time and the arms of the dummy fell off as the face and chest exploded outwards only a second later.

"This time, your opponent would be dead," Harry explained darkly. "I'm pretty sure those spells are banned in competition."

Zabini swallowed deeply as she nodded her understanding.

"Keep practicing," Harry urged, leaving the girl to continue on with her efforts.

Rosalina rolled her eyes at him, and the rest of the class whispered excitedly at seeing the display.

As impressed as they were, Harry hoped none ever had the need to use such spells.

"You're Alastor Moody, aren't you?" Harry asked the boy he came upon in Hufflepuff robes.

Even without the numerous scars, and lumps of flesh missing from his face, the resemblance was unmistakeable.

"Yes, sir," Moody replied standing up straight and meeting his gaze.

"Was Gabriel your uncle?"

Moody nodded solemnly.

"He was a good man," Harry said sincerely. "He used to be my commanding officer, and I not only respected him, but I liked him very much. I'm sorry for your loss. You should be damned proud of him."

"I am, sir," Alastor replied resolutely. "I'm going to be an auror just like him one day."

Harry squeezed the boy's shoulder gently.

"And I bet you'll make a fine one at that."

Moody's posture relaxed as he smiled brightly.

"I'll do my best," he vowed.

Harry snorted amusedly.

"Why don't you show me what you've got, Alastor?" he suggested, taking up the position opposite the boy.

"You want me to duel you?" Moody asked in disbelief.

Harry nodded.

"Your uncle would have."

An expression of determination formed on the teens' face as he adopted a duelling stance, and though his wand was trembling, he showed no sign of backing down.

"Begin when you're ready," Harry instructed.

Moody didn't hesitate as he began casting spell after spell, and though he was far from being any threat to Harry, his potential was undeniable, and there were glimpses of the fighter the boy would one day become.

Doing nothing but dodging and shielding for several minutes, Harry finally brought the bout to an end with a well-placed hex that disarmed the boy and sat him down.

"That was excellent," Harry complimented as he crossed the room and handed Moody his wand back. "Take five points for Hufflepuff."

"I lost," Alastor replied grumpily.

Harry shook his head as he helped him to his feet.

"Do you know how many times Professor Nott got the better of me?"

Moody shook his head.

"Sometimes, I still have nightmares of her," he said with a wink, eliciting a chuckle from his opponent. "You should always train with someone either as good or better than you. That is how you become better. I want you to work with Zabini for the rest of the lesson. I'm sure you will both get something out of it."

Moody didn't seem to like the idea, but he and the girl partnered up without issue.

"Are you sure you don't want to take my place?" Rosalina asked as she joined him.

Harry shook his head.

Teaching was not something he'd considered, and though he had enjoyed his time in this lesson, he couldn't imagine doing it.

He couldn't imagine any sort of life beyond the war he was fighting or the war yet to come.

(Break)

Minerva watched as the fifth years exited the transfiguration classroom, the lesson having been filled by chatter of the Defence lesson they'd had previously.

If Harry hadn't made an impression with his acts of valour on the continent, he certainly had now.

Minerva shook her head.

She thought that being in the classroom would have distracted her from her own thoughts of the man, but it hadn't.

She couldn't explain to herself why she had done what she had in the early hours. Minerva had always pursued what she wanted, but not something that took so much boldness on her part.

There was no regret on her part. Being with Harry in such a way was everything she had hoped for and more, but she questioned what would happen from here.

Although she had been almost dismissive of it, she was terrified that what had happened would change things between them, and she couldn't deny that it would.

What she didn't know was if their relationship would be the better for it, or it had ruined what they had.

What she did know, however, was that there was no going back, and a part of her was angry at for herself for taking the risk.

Still, the experience had been nothing short of magical, carnal for the most part, but not less passionate.

"Is something bothering you, Minerva?" Albus asked, breaking into her thoughts.

He was grinning slightly, as though he knew exactly what the turmoil she faced was.

"No," she denied quickly.

Albus's smile widened, but he said nothing else as the sixth years entered the room followed by Harry.

"How was charms?" she asked.

"I spent most of my time answering questions," Harry replied. "They wanted to see my patronus."

"It is quite famous," Minerva pointed out, grinning as Harry cringed. "If you don't like the fame, stop doing things so noteworthy," she suggested, allowing her eyes to roam over him before she joined Albus at the front of the room.

Harry seemed to be in a stupor for a moment before he pulled himself from it and began assisting the students with their work, ignoring the looks of admiration sent his way.

Minerva watched as groups of girls giggled as they spoke about him, doing a poor job of hiding their stares.

It amused the woman to no end to see Harry navigating his way through his conversations with them.

Harry had done what most could never hope to achieve over the years since he'd left Hogwarts, but he never managed to be calmly receptive of attention from females.

Not openly at least.

He hadn't struggled with it last night.

Once more, Minerva shook her head of those thoughts.

She couldn't afford to be distracted by them, but try as she might, it was all she could think of when she looked at him.

Is this how it would be now?

Much to her relief, the end of the lesson came, and the students left to attend the Great Hall for lunch and would remain there after to spend more time with Harry.

She didn't know what Armando had in mind, or how he expected Harry to keep them occupied, but it would be interesting to witness.

In truth, Minerva just wanted the opportunity to be in his presence.

Before long, he would be gone again, and months could go by without seeing him.

She swallowed deeply at thought.

Minerva wanted nothing more than for him to stay, to be able to repeat the experience of that very morning, but despite what she wanted, she knew Harry would go.

Still, she had a little under a week until then and she was determined to spend as much of it as possible with the man before he would once more go off to war.

She dared not even consider that she might not see him again.

That thought alone filled her with more dread than what the fallout may be from what they did together.

(Break)

Nicholas smiled as he entered the kitchen of the rented house he and Perenelle were currently occupying with Camille at his heels. It wasn't home here, and never would be, but they were safe for now, and that was all that mattered to the alchemist.

"Harry is in Britain on leave," he announced happily.

He watched as Perenelle visibly deflated at the news, her eyes filling with relief.

"Is he coming?" she asked.

Nicholas nodded.

"He said he will be visiting in two days," he confirmed, holding up the letter he had received from the man.

Perenelle all but snatched it from his grasp and read it quickly.

"Stupid boy," she muttered affectionately.

Nicholas snorted at his wife's summary of the man.

"He misses us," she said, echoing the words Harry had penned at the bottom of the letter.

"Of course he misses us," Nicholas sighed. "Call me arrogant if you will, but Harry thinks highly of us both. He loves you, despite your insistence on calling him a stupid boy."

"He is a stupid boy!" Perenelle replied defiantly, "but he is ours."

Nicholas laughed.

To most, Perenelle was quite indifferent, even cold at times, but when someone managed to worm their way into her heart, she grew to love them with all of it.

Harry had been a boy when they'd met him, and he hadn't even tried to ingratiate himself with Nicholas or Perenelle. Their relationship had developed naturally, and the woman had warmed to him quickly.

Perhaps it had been the helplessness of the boy, but Nicholas didn't think so.

No, Harry was a good person with a kind heart, ruthless when needed to be from his own experiences, but never losing that warmth about him.

"Nicholas, you will go and fetch some treacle," Perenelle instructed, "and a chicken. Harry will be hungry."

Nicholas shook his head amusedly as he left the kitchen.

Harry wouldn't be hungry, but who was he to deter his wife from doing what she always did when she knew Harry was coming.

Nicholas too was keen to see the man.

It had been too long since they'd shared a meal.

They exchanged letters often, but it wasn't the same as having him here, and though Perenelle would busy herself cooking and making sure Harry would have more than he would ever need, Nicholas was content revelling in the anticipation of his arrival.

Harry may be a stupid boy at times, but he was among the best men Nicholas had ever met, and there would never be a time he didn't look forward to welcoming him into his home.

(Break)

"I have been informed by Lord Selwyn that Harry Evans is currently in Britain," Weber said, eliciting a frown from Gellert. "Do you not think now would be a good time to strike?"

Gellert shook his head.

"No, Commander Evans may be away, but I have no doubt he is anticipating an attack and will be ready to return at a moment's notice. Besides, I expect his men will be extra vigilant without him present. Another attack would only result in the loss of more of our men."

Weber nodded his understanding.

"What is our next move?"

Gellert sighed as he consulted the map on the wall of his study.

"It would make more sense to continue south and west. We will focus our efforts on Spain for the time being."

"And what if Evans decides to take more than he already has?"

"I feel there is little we can do to prevent it," Gellert grumbled in response. "France, Spain, and Germany are strategically more important than the others. We cannot sacrifice our hold on them for lesser countries."

"No, we cannot," Weber agreed.

"Worry not," Gellert urged. "I have no intention of allowing Commander Evans an easy path. When all is said and done, they will be brought back into the fold."

Weber nodded, unconvinced but he voiced no concerns.

"So, we focus on Spain?"

"And defending what we have the best we can," Gellert reiterated.

As much good as that would do, he knew not, but he had meant what he said.

Evans may wish to press his advantage east, but the war there mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

Gellert held France, and when he added Spain and a few more countries to his collection, the world would begin to realise that whatever resistance they pushed back with would never be enough.

Eventually, the ICW would fold, and with it, any further setbacks Gellert had faced thus far.

(Break)

The last time Harry had been subjected to so many pairs of eyes being transfixed on him in the Great Hall had been the night his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire.

Although the circumstances were now different, he was no less uncomfortable with the attention.

The previous night, he had been able to busy himself with his meal, and this morning, he had been distracted by what had happened between him and Minerva.

He still was, but now there was an expectation of him to speak with the students at least and he could no longer ignore the adoring eyes of the children.

Much to his amusement, the moment the food had been cleared away for lunch, he spotted a lone figure taking his leave of the hall from the Slytherin table.

Tom Riddle.

Evidently the boy had no intention of listening to anything Harry had to say, but perhaps if he wasn't so arrogant or egotistical, he may have learned something.

It had taken a lot for Harry not to follow the future Dark Lord, but he knew he couldn't trust himself.

As much as he had promised that he would not become anything that resembled what Voldemort was, the temptation to put an end to Riddle would be too difficult to ignore, but with the boy gone, he allowed himself to relax.

Riddle, or Voldemort if he managed to reach such heights, would die by Harry's hands, and nothing would give him more pleasure than to look him in the eyes as he robbed him of his life.

"Commander Evans?" a voice broke into his thoughts.

Harry's gaze swept across the hall until it came to rest on a younger student in Ravenclaw robes.

"Yes, Mr…?"

"Montague, sir," the boy answered respectfully. "I was wondering, what subjects should I study if I wanted to be a fighter like you?"

Harry shook his head sadly at the question.

He was flattered that people looked up to him, but he did not wish to inspire them to be like him.

No one should have to be what he had been forced to become.

"You should always aspire to be what you want to be," Harry urged. "I don't think anyone should want to be good at fighting unless you absolutely need to be, or if you want to become an auror or duellist. War is not something anyone should want to be a part of. Sometimes, like now, it is unavoidable, but we should always look to avoid it when we can."

Montague looked at him questioningly for a moment before smiling.

"What do you want to be?" Harry asked him.

"I like potions, sir," the boy replied. "I'd like to travel the world, gather ingredients, and create new potions that will help people."

"Now that is an admirable goal," Harry praised. "I hope that when the time comes that you leave the castle, the world will be peaceful enough for you to pursue it."

"What's it like being at war?" another voice broke in.

It was an older Gryffindor student that had asked, a girl with a prefect badge pinned to her robes.

"War is the most miserable thing you can experience," Harry answered honestly. "Here, you only read about the glorious deeds, or sometimes defeats in battle. Experiencing both is a different thing altogether. You can never be certain if you're going to live to see the next day, or if you're going to watch people you have come to care for be killed right in front of you. More often than not, there's nothing you can do to stop it. It is not something I would wish for any of you to experience."

"D'ya ever get scared?" another asked, his gravelly voice one Harry could never forget.

Some of the students laughed at the question, especially as it came from the largest of them.

"Every day," Harry answered honestly, silencing the laughter immediately.

"But you're so brave," a Hufflepuff girl said incredulously.

"Some would say I'm stupid," Harry snorted. "Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared. Everybody gets scared, and there's nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, you have to push past the fear and take action. It's not easy to do it, but if you don't, bad things can happen. When I fought the dragon, I didn't do it because I thought it was a good idea and it would make me look good. I did it because if I didn't, a lot of people would have been killed. It was still a stupid thing to do, even though I managed to survive."

"I think that will do now," Armando interjected. "We thank you, Commander Evans for taking the time to speak with us, but I believe dinner is ready to be served."

The headmaster began the round of applause that was enthusiastically taken up by the students.

Harry had been answering questions for hours and would have probably been at it all night if Armando had not intervened.

He didn't mind as such.

It had been nice speaking with the students as they asked about the things he liked, what he wanted to do when the war was over, and so on.

The last part of the questioning had taken a rather sombre turn, but he had expected it.

He hadn't lied to the students and hoped that they would heed his words.

War truly was a miserable thing to experience, and he couldn't wait for it to come to an end.

"Will you be joining us, Harry?" Armando asked as the plates and pitchers began to fill with food and drink.

Harry shook his head.

"No, I haven't been home yet, and I expect that there will be a stack of letters waiting for me there. I've been away for some time."

Armando nodded his understanding.

"Well, thank you for visiting," he offered sincerely. "It was nice to see you, my boy, and the students have certainly enjoyed having you here."

"He'll be back before he swans off to the continent again," Rosalina said firmly.

Harry chuckled as he nodded.

"I will," he promised as he stood.

With a final nod, and look at Minerva, he took his leave of the Great Hall and across the grounds before he made his way through the gates, activating his portkey when he was clear of them.

He arrived at his modest home, and for the first time in months, he felt himself relax.

Opening the door with a tap of his wand, he took one glance at the pile of letters that had arrived in his absence and shook his head.

Some would be from those he had invested in over the years, but he noticed the crest of the Ministry of Magic on a few.

Not wanting to deal with them this evening, he ate and headed up to his room to turn in early.

Maybe being here he would get a better night's sleep?

Or perhaps not.

As he opened the door to his bedroom, he was greeted by a loud, incoherent hissing, and before he could get even a glance within, something thudded heavily against the door and sent him sprawling across the landing.

"Bloody hell!" he groaned.

In his absence, the egg had evidently hatched, and though Harry didn't know what had emerged, the slight glimpse he had of his would-be attacker had been limited to a pair of red eyes.

"What are you?" he asked tentatively.

Another incoherent hiss, an unfriendly one at that responded before another loud thud sounded against the door, rattling it in its frame.

Whatever was behind it was not pleased to see him, and Harry had no idea what that creature could be.

Was it even a serpent at all?

Not knowing what it was he faced, Harry knew he needed to defer to someone who was better qualified in such matters than him.

With a final shake of his head, he sent off a patronus before heading back downstairs.

He certainly wasn't going to be able to sleep in his room tonight, and not until he received a response from Newt Scamander.

He would need his help, after all.