The Last Ten Years

"So," the word echoed down the long hall, reverberating through the emptiness, "you came back."
"Did you think I would?" He asked, his words soft, but he knew she could hear him.
"Not really." She was standing at the end, looking at him. He knew she would be here, and he had hoped to catch her before she went back up to the Headmaster's office; he didn't know the new password. "You look old." Her words were harsh, but there was a soft side to them that he could help but hear.
"You do too."
"I'm supposed to."

Harry looked around the corridor, not much had changed in the ten years he had been gone. There was more greenery, and less pottery. He had come to pay a visit to the Headmistress, deciding that he would do it during the summer break, to avoid the messy situation of his fame. Somehow, people were still interested in his life – especially since the curriculum now involved his life story. McGonagall watched him for a moment before walking down the hall. He was taller, somehow, or maybe he just looked it due to his unnervingly thin weight.
"Walk with me, Potter?" She asked as she reached him. Harry nodded, his hair falling over his eyes. They slowly made their way through the halls, and Harry noticed the memorials set up around the castle, many of which remembering significant sacrifices during the battle.
"Why are you here, Harry?" The ageing professor queried. Harry looked over at her, sighing.
"I don't think I can do it anymore," he said softly, and Minerva stiffened. They stopped walking, and Harry moved over to a nearby window, his eyes not really focusing at he stared through it. Minerva didn't say anything, but came to stand next to her old student and friend.

"They said it would get easier," his voice was so soft as he spoke. "They said the pain would go away, but it didn't." The elderly woman didn't know what to say. She had watched many of her students go through what they had experienced, even many of her friends. She liked to keep tabs on certain ones after they leave – her heart going with them. Harry was special, somehow causing her insane amounts of worry during his enrolment in the school, and still managed to make her heart race once he left. She thought he had been doing better, hearing reports on jobs and promotions. She had been honoured when the boy had asked her to take the responsibility of God-mother to his third child, and accepted without thought. "It's still there when I look at my friends. It's there when I do my job, when I go to sleep at night, when I see my kids." Harry looked at her; his expression soft, pained.
"I can't shake this feeling that I am supposed to be dead, like all of those who gave their life for the war – but somehow I'm not. I feel empty, like nothing I do matters. I have dedicated my life to rounding up the rest of the Death Eaters, to make them pay – but even that cause feels false. I'm trying to fool everyone that I'm okay, but I know that Ginny can see through me."
"What are you doing here?" Minerva asked again, this time worried that his situation was far more serious, far darker than she expected. He averted his eyes.
"I quit my job the other day, and I haven't talked to anyone about it. I just don't feel like they would understand."
"And you believe I would?"
"I think that you won't judge me as much as they might."
"No one is going to judge you, love." Minerva dropped her Headmistress façade and became the woman he knew, the woman who was like a mother to him.

Harry stepped away from the window, his thumb running over the twelve year old scar on his hand, 'I must not tell lies'. Minerva noticed, taking his hand quickly in her own.
"You are not here by mistake, and I don't mean the castle." She looked deep in his eyes, her worry practically radiating from her. "You have saved everyone from the most evil fate, and even now I believe you are meant to do more." With a moment's consideration she spoke softly, "Why don't you stay here for a while?" Harry frowned, tilting his head in question.
"Stay in the castle, maybe teach a little? The children can learn so much from you." Harry shook his head, stepping away. "What if this is what you're supposed to do?" Minerva didn't pull back when he took his hands from hers.
"I can't teach."
"You did once before?" Harry's eyes widened, remembering back to his sixth year. "All the teachers noticed," Minerva smiled, "students getting better, happier, and more resistant without our help." Harry couldn't stop the small smile that formed on his lips when he thought back to those months of rebellion.

The teacher moved then, walking back the way they came. Harry followed her to the Headmaster's office, where they paused beside the desk. Harry looked around the room. The last time he had been in here he had talked with Dumbledore, who was snoozing in his portrait.
"Mr Potter, I have a position open if you'd like it?" Harry's focus shifted to her. She was standing in the back of the office, the sword of Gryffindor had been re-placed, but a small plaque in front of it claimed it as a replica – the original being returned to the Goblins for safe-keeping.
"A position?" Harry asked, his attention still continuing around the room. He noticed that many of Dumbledore's artefacts had been replaced with a mixture of book and photographs. Harry saw the smile face of his wife as she held Lily, it was her first birthday.
"Professor," she clarified, "of Defense Against the Dark Arts. You'll have to be taught, it won't be easy. But I know you can do it." Minerva took a seat behind the desk. "A few teachers retired last year and I've been looking for replacements."
"Who else?" Harry looked back at Minerva, his eyes briefly landing on the sleeping figure of Severus Snape.
"Fillius has," Minerva said sadly, "but the youngest Mrs Weasley was agreed to take his position. It seems government didn't suit her in the end." Harry smiled, and took a seat in the chair he had so many times occupied during his schooling.
"Hermione will be an excellent teacher," Harry agreed.
"So, you'll take it?" Harry took a moment, filling his lungs with air before letting out a deep sigh.
"I guess I will," he said without another moment's thought. Minerva smiled.
"Welcome, then, Professor Potter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

A/N: Words – 1,134

Prompts – Written for Assessment #10 – Arithmancy "someone's change in 10 years…"