Chapter 325: Reality and Illusions

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I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

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30th September 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)

"You escaped our last duel through pure blind luck. There are no Portkeys this time and none of my annoying little followers. Let's see if you can last longer than your father, huh?"

He jumped to the side to barely dodge the bright green jet of light that was coming at him. Holy shit, what the fuck was going on?

Harry didn't have time to really think about it and conjured a quick shield, which stopped an exploding charm from hitting him. Barely. It still shattered, but it allowed him to hide behind one of the walls.

Voldemort slowly walked up to him and was snickering, "Are you hiding, Potter? What happened to all your Gryffindor bravado? To think young Cedric would have died for the sake of a coward like you. How disappointing."

Harry moved without even realizing it and sent a stunning charm at the dark lord, which just fizzled out into nothing somehow. Voldemort's tone somehow got even more mocking, "Is that seriously it? That's your valiant stance? Are you truly that helpless without someone giving up their lives for you?"

He didn't have time to answer as a giant snake made of shadows appeared from behind him and tried to swallow him whole. Harry didn't know why this was his first instinct, but he yelled out, "Expecto Patronum!"

A giant glowing stag attacked the snake head-on, and they fought against one another. Voldemort though didn't seem all that concerned, "At least you can think on your feet, huh? Let's see what else you could do."

Suddenly, the shadowy serpent morphed into a giant black scythe that moved at blinding speed and impaled Harry's patronus. Voldemort waved his wand once more and Harry conjured a shield charm that the weapon cleaved through as if it didn't exist. Thankfully, he was able to roll out of the way. Barely.

He was going to die, wasn't he? He would die alone without any of his friends, without even getting to say goodbye to Sirius.

Harry shook his head. No, he wouldn't. He could do this, hold the man off until someone comes until Dumbledore comes and protects him.

Voldemort snorted as if reading his mind, "Dumbledore isn't coming. No one is coming. You're going to die here, alone, unremembered. Your friends will follow, that Mudblood and blood traitor alike, even the mutt you call a godfather. I'll reap them all."

Harry couldn't accept that. He just couldn't and yelled out, "Expelliarmus!"

A red jet of light met Voldemort's green, and the world started to shake around them. The jets of light turned golden, and they started to rise in the air. He hoped that this would delay the inevitable, that he could win in a battle of wills.

Only to lose his breath as he noticed that a large rock was sent his way, breaking the connection completely.

Voldemort was chuckling, "You seriously didn't expect that trick to work twice on me, did you? What a curious phenomenon, Priori Incantatem, the brother wand effect. It's truly baffling how lucky you truly are. Unfortunately, luck will not save you now."

It was then that the realization finally set in. He was going to lose.

Harry didn't know why he always felt like he could improvise his way out of most situations, but to be fair to him, it did work surprisingly often. Unfortunately, he saw no way out of this. There was always this small pull, ideas that seemed absurd but came out of nowhere, and worked by some miracle. To his dismay, there were no pulls, no random ideas, nothing.

And what that happened, he couldn't help but feel desperate. Harry snarled and sent literally every single spell at his enemy, every single jinx, curse, charm. Anything, that might possibly work.

Somehow, the spells sort of faded away into nothing, until Harry felt something press against his back make him kneel down, "Doesn't this just feel natural, to kneel to your betters? Isn't all this defiance going in your veins simply bothersome?"

Harry snarled, "Never!"

Somehow, that created a giant pulse of magic that pushed everything away. Everything, other than Voldemort, who protected himself behind a silver shield of some sort. Then, the Dark Lord smiled. It was one of the most disturbing things he had ever seen before, and he had seen some screwed-up things in his life.

The smiling Voldemort kept talking, "There he is, underneath all these insecurities. You could have been a worthy rival, had you had the chance to grow past your obsession with mediocrity. Alas, I cannot allow you to live. Farewell, Harry Potter."

A sickly green jet of light appeared from Voldemort's wand and hit Harry straight in the chest, and everything went black. for about five seconds, then he opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of a classroom in Hogwarts.

A familiar voice spoke up, "That was a surprisingly good showing. You have good instincts when it comes to defensive magic and basic tactics, but you're horrible at offence, like really horrible."

"Harrold? What's going on?" he asked confused before stiffening, "Voldemort, he was here. We fought; we need to tell someone!"

"No one was here, Harry, just me and you."

"You don't understand," the boy who lived stated, "He was here, in the castle."

Harrold pointed behind Harry, "You mean him?"

Harry turned and saw the familiar form of Voldemort and practically jumped behind a table for cover. Harrold, for some reason, seemed to burst into laughter, "It's an illusion, man."

The boy who lived sat up and noticed his classmate with his legs crossed and sipping coffee, "This blend is amazing. I'll need to go down to the kitchens and thank the elves."

"But he took me out of the castle," Harry protested.

Smith rolled his eyes, "It was all an illusion, a small test and a lesson rolled into one."

As he said so, the room shifted into a sunny beach, then returned back to normal. Harry couldn't help but snarl at him, "Why the fuck would you do anything like that?"

"As I said before, a lesson and a test. I needed to see what you would do in a high-stress situation. It wasn't really that bad, to be honest. You did better than most people our age, but that's not really an advantage against an opponent like Voldemort."

"And the lesson?"

Harrold gave him a very severe look, "Never trust anything in a fight. If your opponent isn't a moron, they'll try to trick you. And it's often worse to assume that someone is an incompetent fighter. But my main point is that everything you see in a fight is fake and you have to question everything. Truth be told, you did pretty well near the end, but if I hadn't been trying to gauge your potential from the start, you would have lost the fight in seconds. And that's because you were afraid."

Harry snorted, "Everyone is scared of Voldemort, enough that they don't even say his name. I'd say I'm ahead of the curve."

"A sense of caution is very important, but fear is as much a weapon as it is a curse. If fear makes you act, makes you run faster than possible, jump higher than possible, or cast magic that you never did before, then your fear is harnessed properly. However, a paralyzing fear that stops you from acting, that makes you afraid of attacking your enemy, that is a flaw that can easily get you killed."

The boy who lived nodded but there was something bothering him, "How did you make the illusion of Voldemort be this perfect?"

"Your memories. There's a branch of magic called Legilimency. It's a pretty obscure field, but it essentially acts as a way to invade someone else's mind. It's not exactly my cup of tea or magic that I specialize in, but it does have its uses. Voldemort and Dumbledore are rumoured to be masters in the art. Snape too, apparently. He tried to enter mine in the last lesson, probably to know who was responsible for the mess."

Harry stiffened, "Snape can read my mind?"

"Well, it's not exactly reading. It's more like a radio receiver of images and thoughts. I used them to craft an illusion of your worst enemy. You can train yourself to not let out any of your thoughts, but it's a pretty time-consuming art called Occlumency, one that's not really suitable for teenagers, especially ones with anger issues."

"I don't have anger issues," Harry yelled, outraged.

The new student simply raised an eyebrow and replied, "Whatever you say, Potter."

Deciding to change the subject, he asked, "So, what now? Are we finally going to fight properly?"

Harrold had the audacity to snort at that, "No offence, but you couldn't even fight an illusion that I was casting while sipping coffee. I don't think you'd be able to make me stop reading my journal in a fight. And no, this isn't a challenge. The first thing we'll be working on is your abysmal offensive arsenal. Seriously, man. Who uses schoolyard jinxes on a dark lord?"

The boy who lived couldn't help but blush at that, "Hey, a disarming charm worked last time!"

"No, you could have cast a stinging hex, and it would have had the same effect. You escaped through a magical coincidence. You got extremely lucky."

"I know," Harry replied with a deep sigh until he stiffened and continued, "I still don't understand something. You're a good dueller, like one of the best I've ever seen. Even my fights in the Tri-Wizard tournament weren't that technical. And yet you keep saying that you just want your OWLS and leave. Why don't you stay? Why don't you fight? You already admitted that you think Voldemort is insane and dangerous."

For the first time since Harry met him, he noticed that the small joviality in the new students' eyes disappeared, and instead was something else, something that reminded him of Dumbledore after he told him that Voldemort was back.

It was only for a fraction of a second, but it was still very noticeable. Smith sighed heavily, "In my time in this castle, there's a single important lesson that I want to teach you. It's something that I learned by myself over time. It's not a spell, it's not any form of magic, it's just a fact of the world. Everyone is in this life for themselves. People don't really care about what happens to other people, only what happens to them. And sure, people sometimes sacrifice themselves for their children or spouse, maybe even a friend, but that love is driven by the desire to not experience life without them. I know it feels nice to be a hero, to be needed, to feel like you matter, but at the end of the day, every single wizard or witch in Britain could fight Voldemort. They know he's a monster, there's no doubt about it. People don't help Muggleborns because they value their lives better. And even if you do defeat Voldemort and become their hero, then one day, they'll throw you away when it's convenient to them. You've seen it happen this year with the Ministry, didn't you?"

Harry couldn't help but glare at the other boy, "So, I shouldn't fight. Is that what you're saying?"

"No, it's not. You shouldn't fight for other people. You should fight for yourself. Don't be a hero, be a winner. You asked me why I'm not fighting Lord Voldemort, and the answer is very simple, I gain absolutely nothing by doing so. I'm not staying in Britain after my OWLS. I won't be discriminated against or even really affected by his possible reign of terror, so why would I possibly sacrifice my life for him? You are going to fight him because you have to but because Voldemort himself will not stop until he kills you. You feel angry because everyone turned on you. You were a hero; you fought a monster that they flinch at the mere mention... That's because you still consider yourself to be their hero, to become their saviour. Close your heart to their words, close your heart to their possible suffering, and for once in your life, try to focus on yourself and live."

Was he really doing this? Was this why he felt angry all the time? Now that he thought about it, it did oddly hurt. The whole situation reminded him of how he was treated in Privet Drive because he was constantly badmouthed by Petunia. And yet, back then, he didn't feel anywhere near as angry. He felt betrayed. Cedric had died, Harry had been tortured and had barely survived the fight, all to tell them the truth, only for everyone to deny it.

It wasn't right. The way they treated him was wrong. He was trying to save them, and yet, they didn't want to be saved. He never really considered that saving these people wasn't his responsibility. Harry didn't really know what to say. The words were just stuck in his throat.

Thankfully, his new teacher clapped his hand and changed the subject, "Now, enough with the depressing crap. I'm going to teach you a few elemental spells. We'll practice them together a bit, then you'll do it on your own until our next session next week. If I haven't already scared you away, that is."

"You're on!" he replied.

A couple of hours later, he returned to the common room, with small burns on his uniform, and a lot of bruises. He winced as he sat down on the chair. Ron and Hermione immediately pounced at him. They were about to say something only for the muggleborn to be horrified by his wounds, "What happened to you?"

"I asked Harrold to teach me how to fight."

"And he said no and beat you up."

Harry shook his head, "And he said yes, beat me up without even trying, and then taught me a few spells."

"He did this to you in a friendly duel?" Hermione asked furiously.

Harry shook his head, "No, this is what happens when I try to take a shortcut when conjuring a concentrated wind blast. Threw myself into the classroom wall."

That seemed to relax them a bit, but Hermione's eyes lit up, "So, what did he teach you? Is he really as good as you thought he was?"

"It was mostly just basic offensive spells. He said that I lacked those. They weren't really too impressive, just a wind-cutting charm, a wind blast, and a fire whip. But, Merlin, I knew he was good after what happened to Malfoy and his cronies, but I never expected this."

"What did he do?"

Harry snorted, feeling slightly empathetic, "He's a pretty good teacher. I can see why Neville likes him, but when he fights. It's like he's not even bothered to try."

"I don't see it," Ron commented.

"Imagine fighting someone who doesn't take you seriously enough to even try casting spells. And that's the thing, I can tell he can do all of this and more. Like, how would you feel if you taught a first-year how to duel? Would you really take the fight seriously?"

Ron shook his head, "I see your point. Still, isn't he a little too good? I don't want to be pessimistic, but he could be a spy."

Hermione shook her head, "He's not. I used the map to see if he was an impersonator, but it always said his name normally. I even used an age detection charm, and he is actually fourteen, not fifteen."

Harry gave her an incredulous look, "Seriously, Hermione. Is that why you asked for my cloak and the map."

"Hey, after Moody last year, I didn't want to take any risks. Anyway, he's not some adult wizard pretending to be younger. He's really just that good. It's kinda unfair, really. Are you sure he wasn't pretending or something?" she asked with a hopeful look.

"No. If anything, I think what we've seen so far is just the watered-down version of what he can do."

Ron gulped slightly, "That's bloody terrifying, mate."

Yeah, he couldn't have said it better himself. He had spent just a couple of hours with the boy, and he couldn't help but feel the same. He could only hope that Harrold would change his mind and be on their side when the war inevitably started once more. However, he wasn't exactly holding his breath.

Of course, this feeling of hope and contentment ended the following morning when Dolores Umbridge was announced as the new High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.

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AN: I don't know if this landed like I wanted it to, but this is mostly how I imagined Harry being a teacher. Anyway, the next chapter will move the plot a bit, since as much fun as I'm having with this arc, I shouldn't really overdo it. Anyway, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.

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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr

I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.