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An Apple For The Teacher By oddzag
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Category: Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:All
Genres: General
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Reviews: 2
Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years ***
Harry is still reeling from the Final Battle when Professor McGonagall makes him an offer he cannot refuse
Hitcount: Story Total: 4111
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
Author's Notes: I really appreciate reviews.
The Latin words are arm, above, feeling and numb.
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Harry hurt. Physical pain as he limped down the garden path to the Burrow. The physical pain he had may have had something to do with the arrow trapped in his shoulder or the spell burn on his right arm, any number of things could have caused it.
Now as Harry limped down the garden path, knowing full well he should right at this very minute be in St Mungo’s receiving treating for his numerous injuries he could only be filled with happiness. He knocked at the door.
“Ginny?” he whispered.
“Harry? Harry, is it really you?” a voice returned, and a warm glow appeared in his heart.
“Yeah, it’s me, are you all right?” No one answered as the front door flew open and he was engulfed in a bush of flaming red hair that gave a small squeak as she saw his condition.
“Harry! You complete and utter IDIOT! Just LOOK AT YOURSELF!”
“Um, I’d rather not right now if that’s okay with you Gin, god only knows what I look like,” Harry replied sarcastically.
He was soon bustled inside and saw that Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley sat at the kitchen table with a concerned look on their faces.
“Is it done, son?” Mr. Weasley asked tentatively.
“Yes, Mr. Weasley, it’s done,” but at what cost, Harry thought to himself.
“Now, now there’s no need to call me that, Arthur will be fine… or Dad if you’d prefer?” Mr. Weasley replied with good humour in his voice, humour that was uplifting to Harry as he struggled out of his morose thoughts.
“How did you find out Arthur?” Harry asked incredulously.
“Hah! You think Molly can’t spot a pregnant woman when she sees one? She has given birth to seven children y’know, and I have to say congratulations Harry, you too Ginny.”
Ginny stared with her jaw dropped at her father when suddenly everyone at the table burst out laughing; reminding Harry of his wedding just one year ago. As soon as Ginny had graduated from Hogwarts Harry had proposed to Ginny, and she had accepted.
“Harry dear, I don’t mean to be offensive but I think it’s time for you to go to St. Mungo’s now” Mrs. Weasley said concernedly.
“Yes, Mum”.
Harry stood and removed his wand, and slowly spinning on the spot felt himself being forced through what felt like a rubber tube and being squeezed out the other end, he appeared at St. Mungo’s. Peering round he asked the dummy in the window to let him in as he had an arrow stuck in him, and quickly passed through the window. He was immediately ambushed by concerned Healers and laid down on a bed.
“This arrow wound looks serious, we need to do some quite dangerous healing to get it out, do we have your permission to proceed, Mr.?
“Potter, Harry Potter.”
“Merlin’s beard! I have a few questions we need to ask you.”
Harry nodded.
“How did you sustain these injuries?”
“Well, the arrow was from a centaur, they’d finally agreed to fight with us against Voldemort and I got caught in the crossfire. The spell burn is from a Burning Hex that just grazed my ribs and my headache I believe is from when I hit the deck after killing Voldemort.”
The Healer looked slightly incredulous for several seconds before regaining his composure. “Okay, sir, are you ready? I’m going to put a numbing charm on your shoulder.”
“A what?”
“A numbing charm sir, and also a different form of the Body-Bind Curse, but just on your shoulder, is that okay?” the Healer asked kindly. As he saw Harry nod, he quickly drew his wand and muttered under his breath. “Petrificus Armo Supernus” closely followed by “Sensus Torpeo”.
Harry’s shoulder suddenly went rigid followed by the loss of feeling to the area as well.
“All done, Mr. Potter” the Healer quickly said.
“Really? I didn’t feel a thing.”
“That’s because I am very good at what I do, Mr. Potter. I would like to keep you in for the night for observation and to apply a salve to your spell burn.”
“No, no, I’ve got to be with my wife”
“I’m sure you’re wife will manage one night without you, and unless you want a bigger concussion than you’ve already got I suggest you get some sleep.”
“Oh, okay,” Harry replied reluctantly.
“Very good, Mr. Potter now open wide.” Harry obliged as a Pepper-Up Potion was forced down his throat closely followed by a rather strong dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion.
***
Harry felt very groggy, he felt barely awake as several voices floated towards him.
“Do you think he’ll be all right?” Harry recognised this voice as that of Hermione Granger, his adopted sister.
“Yes, the Healer said he would be fine after a good night’s rest.” As he heard the voice of his wife, Harry felt a calm cover his soul like nothing else.
“Course he bloody well will be. He’s Harry Potter, now the Man-Who-Saved-Us according to the Prophet, or the Hottest-Wizard-Alive if you read Witch Weekly,” said the voice of Ron Weasley his best friend.
Harry listened as Ginny continued unaware of his awakened state.
“Well, I’m inclined to believe Witch Weekly for once,” she replied, earning Ron a smack on the head from Hermione as he was about to retort.
Harry opened his eyes and saw all three of them looking at him concernedly. In the background stood what must have been half the order. Harry looked incredulously at the faces around him; there was McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid, Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Fred and George, Molly, Arthur, Tonks, Percy, Moony, Angelina Johnson, Dedalus Diggle, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and Oliver Wood, all with happy faces.
“Um, why are you all here?” Harry asked.
“To offer our congratulations Potter,” Professor McGonagall replied, “and to offer you a job”
“Excuse me?”
“As you are aware, with the death of Mr. Figg, Arabella’s father, we are once again one member of staff short, in short how would you like to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts and become the youngest teacher at Hogwarts for over 250 years?”
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