One sentence had left Sirius utterly deflated, his dog of a godfather still pressing both hands against the desk, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn't quite find the words.
"...I really wouldn't know, Harry," Sirius finally managed to mutter.
"You know, Sirius," Harry said, setting down his quill and looking up, "after becoming Headmaster, I went through the list of past Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. I also asked Dumbledore about the curse."
"What did Dumbledore say?"
"The curse probably started over forty years ago, right around the time he turned down Voldemort's application to teach at the school," Harry said seriously. "From then on, Voldemort placed a curse on the position. When people first noticed that it kept sending these professors packing—from minor injuries to severe ones to outright death—no one could last more than a year in the job. That's when the challengers started showing up."
"Challengers?" Sirius threw his head back and let out two barking laughs. "People who wanted to break the curse?"
"Yeah, just like you now," Harry snorted. "People who think they're experts on the Dark Arts, who fancy themselves masters of magical secrets, who rely on their own raw power... Guess where they all are now?"
Sirius's laughter died instantly. Since Hogwarts was still stuck with its tradition of a new professor every year, their fates were all too obvious... Surviving with just a few injuries was about the best any of them could hope for.
"And your academic record... Mr. Sirius Orion Black—shall I pull your old report card?" Harry said with a smile.
"No need, thanks," Sirius replied with a dry chuckle, then asked, "So what are you going to do? The students can't just skip Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Of course they can't," Harry shook his head. "The world out there is so dangerous right now. The more it is, the more they need to learn how to protect themselves. Even setting aside combat against demons or Dark wizards, just knowing how to handle dangerous magical creatures from the wider world is essential."
"Then what about—"
"I'm not about to gamble with other people's lives, so I'm planning to just create a whole new course outright," Harry said bluntly. "Curses need a specific target. Over all these years at Hogwarts, with so many professors coming and going, only the Defense Against the Dark Arts ones have met with constant accidents—none of the others. That means the curse is keyed to 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' as its trigger."
"Dangerous Magical Protections," Harry said candidly. "That's what I'm calling the new course. Then I'll put out a public call in the Daily Prophet for a new professor, explaining exactly what the class is for. Someone's bound to give it a shot—Hogwarts professor pay and perks are pretty decent, after all."
"And me?" Sirius's eyes lit up again.
"...You really want to be a professor that badly?" Harry hesitated. "I'm not sure about your magical prowess. What could you even teach the students? Just so we're clear: this job isn't just about being a strong fighter. You need real adventuring experience, enough to give students a solid grasp of the wizarding world before they graduate."
What experience did Sirius have?
A stint in Azkaban?
He'd graduated over a decade ago and jumped straight into the war against Voldemort alongside James Potter and the others. Harry didn't doubt his godfather's combat skills for a second—you couldn't survive Voldemort and the Death Eaters without serious power.
But being a professor wasn't just about throwing punches. Even if wizards lived far longer than Muggles, Sirius had spent most of his prime years rotting in Azkaban. There probably wasn't much he could teach.
"...All right, damn it. I have to say, Harry, you aren't pulling any punches for my sake. I'm your godfather," Sirius grumbled. He knew his own situation well enough that, without getting emotional, he wouldn't push back too hard.
"Sorry, Sirius," Harry said, standing and circling the desk to pull his godfather into a hug. "But I'm the Headmaster. I have to look out for the students."
"Yeah, responsibility..." Sirius's expression softened. He hugged Harry back, patting his shoulder. "You know, thinking about it like that, you're a lot like Dumbledore. No wonder he picked you as his successor... For someone like me, though, 'responsibility' feels a bit too distant. Ha, I just tossed the whole Black family legacy aside."
"No, Sirius," Harry countered. "You just... can't keep track of everything at once. At least you held fast to your duty to your friends."
"Not so much to your godfatherly duties, eh?" Sirius shrugged with a wry grin. "But if you're really looking for someone who can teach the kids real skills, how about Remus?"
"Er, this isn't about playing favorites or anything—Remus really is that exceptional. Well, his marks were the best in our year at school. He never even copied homework—you know it was always us copying his."
"Not just OWLs—all Os. Most of his NEWTs were Os too. He remembered everything the professors taught. Honestly, I always thought Remus was held back by his condition. Without that little furry problem, I reckon he could've run for Minister of Magic!"
As if slowing down might get him shot down, Sirius rattled off his pitch for his old friend at top speed, dredging up every virtue of Lupin he could from the depths of his mind.
"He's got a good temper—barely ever got mad, even when we pranked him. And he's reliable, miles better than that traitor Pettigrew. Most importantly, Harry, you know this: Remus has been wandering the world all these years since You-Know-Who fell. No one knows the dangerous Dark creatures out there—or what to watch for when you're roaming, er, or adventuring—better than he does. Right? Right? Right?"
Three "rights" in a row, and by the end, Sirius had even shifted into his Animagus form, a massive black dog with a tail wagging furiously, barking twice, eyes pleading.
Harry: "..."
This was his dog of a godfather. Honestly, Sirius really ought to reflect on why he never had any godfatherly dignity.
"All right, all right, quiet down—no more barking," Harry said, waving him off as his head started to throb. "Remus... yeah, he's a solid choice. I don't care about his werewolf status anyway. We've got Wolfsbane Potion now, and the school's got a master brewer for it..."
"Snape?!" Sirius snapped back to human form, eyes bulging in outrage. "Absolutely not! Snape would poison him! He absolutely would!"
No one understood Snape quite like Sirius did.
"How could he?" Harry said irritably, shoving down the dog head that was nosing toward him. "Stop judging him by old grudges. Snape's mellowed out now."
"Mellowed?!" Sirius yelped. "That's mellow? Look at us every time we meet—he looks like he wants to murder me!"
"Don't think I haven't noticed that you're always the one starting it!" Harry shot him a stern glare. "Come talk to me when you can hold back from provoking him first!"
"...That'd be pretty tough," Sirius muttered sheepishly. "Who knows what Lily told him. Tsk, Harry, you too... Fine, fine, I won't say it—stop glaring. So, do you think Remus could be a professor? I really do. At least he's miles better than that hack Lockhart."
"Remus... yeah, he's a good pick," Harry nodded slightly. "And things haven't been going smoothly for him with the goblins lately."
"Ha? Not smoothly?" Sirius's eyes widened. "Why not?"
"Because he's been handling everything solo," Harry said with a thin smile. "If I remember right, Sirius, I assigned the goblin situation to both of you... How long has it been since you last checked in?"
"Cough-cough-cough!" Sirius hacked violently. "I... cough! I've been sorting out the Black family estate, you know—hey, want to come with me? Harry, the Black family home is at 12 Grimmauld Place. You'd like it there. Well, I mean, we could clean it up together? It's your other home!"
Sirius was getting excited again as he spoke.
"No objections here," Harry said with a smile. "And I do want to see the Black ancestral home. Even among all the pure-blood families, the Blacks rank right up there."
"Ah, don't think I don't know what you're after, Harry—the Black family magic books, right?" Sirius said, squinting at him. "Fair warning: those tomes are mostly vile Dark magic stuff. If it wasn't twisted enough, the Blacks didn't collect it. Don't go getting any bad ideas."
"Don't worry," Harry assured him. "My will is ironclad... I'll have Remus in for an interview later, but the goblin business—"
"Leave it to me!" Sirius snorted. "Goblins? Ha! They're just pushing Remus around because he's a werewolf. I still hate my family, but the Black name carries weight... Just some goblins. More than enough to crush them."
"Don't go overboard—just make sure they know we're not to be trifled with," Harry cautioned.
"Relax, Harry," Sirius said, taking it all on. "Someone from that family knows better than you how to put on pure-blood airs."
Harry nodded. As long as Sirius had his head on straight, that was fine.
Harry's first order as Headmaster passed without a hitch. The school board unanimously approved keeping Defense Against the Dark Arts on the curriculum but not assigning a professor to it. As board members, they knew the curse's intricacies better than most, so they were willing to back Harry's experiment.
Just as Dumbledore had once stubbornly added Divination—a course of dubious use to most students—Harry now used his Headmaster's authority to introduce a new one: Dangerous Magical Protections.
To keep the curse from bleeding over through some arcane link to the new class, Harry had to instill a clear perception: Dangerous Magical Protections wasn't a replacement for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The two would coexist, with this one being Headmaster Potter's response to a world growing ever more perilous.
The core content would cover refined protective charms, adventuring know-how in the wizarding world, and more—essentially what Defense Against the Dark Arts ought to teach. But now, he had to hammer home the idea that the classes were unrelated... Rita Skeeter took on the job and splashed it perfectly across the Daily Prophet.
By keeping Defense Against the Dark Arts on the books while downplaying it, Hogwarts might end up with a new school legend someday... A ghost class that existed only on paper.
The new course would open to all students starting next year, and Harry had already sprung a surprise test on Lupin.
"I just need to confirm, Headmaster Potter," Lupin said, addressing him formally in the official setting. He stood a few paces away, wand raised warily at Harry, a touch of lingering nerves in his voice. "My interview's over, right? It's really over? I've got the job?"
"Yes, Remus. Sorry for the ambush—I had to see if you had the real chops," Harry said, shrugging. "Have a seat."
Moments earlier, when Lupin had returned to the now-familiar Great Totem office for the interview and barely settled into his chair, Harry had hit him with a sudden Disarming Charm. Lupin handled it well: he blocked with a swift Protego, then dove behind the sofa for cover, wand at the ready.
"Your reflexes are sharp," Harry said with a grin. "Even caught off guard, you reacted—that's good, Remus. I bet you can pass that kind of experience on to the students, right?"
"Students need to learn that nowadays?!" Lupin gaped. "I thought this was Hogwarts—the safe Hogwarts!"
"Hogwarts is safe, of course," Harry said, then sighed. "Well, after the demon attack, that does sound a bit hollow."
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