Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, in any way shape or form…unless you count the well worn copies on my bookshelf.

Author's Note: Wow, my first non-crossover Harry Potter story…It's almost intimidating. This story is written for Angenna for winning a contest of mine from months ago. I can only thank her for her patience with me as I tossed this back and forth for far too long.

Pairing: (Potion's Professor)Terry Boot/(Magical Creature)Harry Potter

Even years after the final battle of Hogwarts, not many were willing to venture into the Forbidden Forest on their own, especially after night had fallen and the moon had risen high up into the sky. This fear is reasonable and understood, the Forbidden Forest is home to many dangerous things that would be more than willing to kill the foolish wizard who would dare enter the darkened labyrinth of trees that were older than the castle it surrounded; There was one 'foolish' wizard however, who knew that in the light of the full moon was the best time to collect certain potion ingredients, and having them shipped to him from a distributor would not produce anywhere near as good of a potion for his students.

Ever since Severus Snape started working at Hogwarts as the resident Potions Master and Instructor, Hogwarts had been home to some of the best quality potions in the world. Now, years after the Potion Master had died, it was up to Terry Boot to keep up that honor. At 24 years of age, Terry had only been teaching at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for three years, but in that time his reputation as a capable, stern but fair teacher had earned the interest of his peers from around the globe.

Lowering himself into a thick patch of grass, he couldn't help but let his mind trail off however, even as his calloused, potion stained fingers carefully plucked thin stems of knotgrass that attempted to take refuge under the shade of an impossibly large tree. Three years had gone by since he had started working for Hogwarts, 4 1/2 since he received his Potions Mastery, and almost 7 years have passed since the presumed death of Harry Potter.

The Final Battle of the Second War did not take place at the Ministry of Magic, Hogsmeade, or even on the lush green lawns of Hogwarts. No, instead the final battle reminded Terry of articles he had read on Guerilla Warfare that was not uncommon in the jungles of certain distant countries. Terry could still remember running through the woods with Michael Corner at his heels, flinging disarming spells and stupfeys left and right in an attempt to bring down any of the enemy they stumbled upon as they tried to lead the younger years to safety after their Hogsmeade escape route had been compromised.

All at once though, the Death Eaters seemed to fall down in pain, screaming in agony as they clutched their arms. Some even went so far as to tear into their own skin, trying to rip of the mark of their Master as Voldemort drained them of their magic in a last desperate attempt to keep himself alive. The incredible build up of the Death Eater magic, along with the darkness of Voldemort's and the purity of Harry Potter's was far too much magic for one area to contain. Something triggered the explosion of magic, an explosion that seemed to be almost on the level of that of an atomic bomb. A good section of the Forbidden Forest had been destroyed, leaving a large crater in its wake.

As Terry stood from the grass and dusted off his pants, he picked up his basket of Knotgrass and walked deeper into the woods, unconsciously walking to where the last known spot of Harry Potter's life still stood. He was one of many who had mourned the loss of the Wizarding World's Savior, although perhaps not as openly as most. Many took to the streets, sobbing and wailing of their devotion to their hero, and Terry only showed his grief at the precarious edge of the crater that seemed to mirror the one in his chest.

Only Michael and Anthony Goldstein, Terry's two best friends in the world, had known about the flame he had carried for the Gryffindor. It wasn't until fourth year, when Terry had been sitting in the stands during the Third Task, staring down at the bloodied form of his year mate as he sobbed into the chest of the late Cedric Diggory did he realize he felt something more for Harry than pure student camaraderie. They had watched as Terry practically tore himself apart over 5th year, fighting with his emotions, and over the values he had been taught as a 'Muggleborn'. It was only once he had joined the DA that Terry finally learned to accept his feelings, and that it was alright to be not be logical...just for once.

Terry knew that Harry was plagued by nightmares of the night of Cedric's death, and that those nightmares only increased with the near loss of someone important to him that night Harry and a few of the higher ranking members of the DA went to the Ministry of Magic in an attempt to thwart Voldemort and his minions. It wasn't until after Harry's death and meeting the declared innocent Sirius Black he learned Harry nearly lost his godfather that night. Only Michael and Anthony, his two roommates knew of Terry's own nightmares, nightmares that only seemed to intensify after Harry's death.

Stepping once more to the familiar edge of the crater, Terry choked on the deep breath of air he took as he stared into the...once empty hole before him. It had been four months since Terry had come to the crater, the longest he had ever gone without visiting. At the time there had been nothing but dirt and stone in the bottom of the pit, now however, that had been replaced with an oak tree that had to be at least 15 feet in height. It was an impossible feat, even with the assistance of the wild magic of the Forbidden Forest.

Terry could remember sitting at home, listening to his Aunt Anice humming out in the garden as she attended her plants. She would tell him the properties of everything that seemed to grow green, at least, the Muggle aspect of it anyway. Oak trees represented courage and strength, of fidelity and fulfillment. His aunt had even mentioned that the Celts had believed oak served as a gateway between worlds, a passageway into the future or the unknown. Somehow, it seemed to be fitting.

He wasn't sure how long he remained at the edge of the pit, just staring at the oak as its branches swayed and danced in the breeze, bending but never breaking under the force. It was only when a hint of pink began to stretch across the heavens, signaling the start of a new day, did Terry return to the castle. He had potions to prepare, and the knotgrass wouldn't hold much longer.

Note: This will be the first of most likely…three chapters if I had to guess right now. For now I'm not going to say what kind of magical creature Harry is, although you're more than welcome to guess. Please review and let me know what you think of my first purely Harry Potter story.