Genre: Lotrps AU/Harry Potter future!fic crossover
Pairing: Domlijah, eventually
Summary: Dom becomes a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and finds himself strangely attracted to Elijah, one of the Gryffindor seventh-years.
Rating: PG for now
Warnings: Like I said, AU and crossover.
Disclaimer: This story is about as real as Michael Jackson's face. Harry Potter was written by JK Rowling, the boys and girls of the LOTR cast all belong to themselves, and I use their names and faces for the characters that are made up in my crazy head. I make no money off this.
Feedback: Makes me happy.
Author's notes: This story came to me while reading HP to my kids, and it's about the strangest thing I've ever written. Will be beta'd by the loverly avondster , though this part is unbeta'd. Chapter 1: In which Dom returns home.
Dom looked up at the castle towering over him as he stood on Hogwarts’ enormous drive, remembering every tower and turret, before lowering his eyes to the oak front doors. It had been four years since he’d last passed through those doors with a heavy heart, but seeing the castle again still felt like coming home to him.
It was august, and very hot. Dom was all but comfortable, in the burning sun wearing his best set of robes, but he wanted to look presentable to the Headmaster. He really, really wanted this job.
Beside one of the winged boar statues by the door, he now discovered a tall figure leaning against the wall. Dom recognised him at once, and smiled widely.
“Still here, are you, Mortensen?”
The gamekeeper of Hogwarts was just as Dom remembered him from his own schooldays: scruffy, odd and more than a bit intimidating. Most of the students back then had thought him weird and kept well out of his way, and still did now, no doubt, but Dom, once he had gotten to know him a bit better, had befriended him. Viggo could tell a good story if he felt like it, and his mind was a treasure chamber for those interested in weirdness trivia.
Viggo smiled back; Dom was quite convinced he was one of the few alive who had actually seen him do that.
“Back again, are you, Monaghan?”
“You know how it goes, mate. I missed you too bloody much,” said Dom, laughing, as they embraced each other. “Those sane people get on your nerves after a while.”
Viggo laughed, too: a strange, rasping sound like rocks being ground to dust. “Only too true, that.” He grasped Dom’s shoulder in a friendly way that nearly dislocated it. “Come on. I’ll take you to the Headmaster. Although,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “it’s not as if you wouldn’t know the way to that office by yourself.”
“That was a long time ago,” countered Dom, blushing. “Well, allright, not that long. But I’ve grown older, Viggo. I’m an adult these days, you know.”
Viggo snorted. “Yeah, sure. Come on, the Headmaster’s waiting.”
Indeed, the office was just as Dom remembered it, too (and he had had many opportunities to memorise every inch of it during his years at school): the portraits of the old headmasters, asleep as usual, the large writing desk, the endless shelves of books… the only thing that had changed were the things that were on the desk, and the man behind it.
The Headmaster got up and shook his hand. “Mr. Monaghan.”
“Good day, Professor,” replied Dom. “Thank you for letting me come, sir.”
The man smiled at him, a boyish smile, though he must be somewhere in his forties. He nodded to Viggo, who was still standing by the door. “Thank you, Mr. Mortensen. Could you please go to the greenhouses and supervise the deliveries? There is a batch of Sizzling Spirea coming in today, and Professor Astin would have a fit if any of those were damaged, never mind the second degree burns on the delivery wizards.”
“Yes, sir.” Viggo touched his forelock respectfully and backed out of the office, mumbling “good luck” to Dom before closing the door behind him.
The Headmaster turned his attention back to Dom, studying the young man before him intently. “Well then, Mr. Monaghan,” he said. “I will be honest with you: I don’t usually hire teachers of such a young age as yourself, but looking at your qualifications…” He trailed off delicately, looking at the paper before him on the desk.
Dom didn’t quite know what to say. “Um… thank you, sir.”
The older man looked back up at him, quill tapping on the parchment. “You do realise that the oldest of our students will only be four, five years younger than yourself?”
“I am aware of that, sir.”
“You do think you will be capable of teaching a class?”
“That is, after all, what I’ve studied the last four years for to do, sir.” Dom couldn’t help but give the man a bit of cheek. If he thought him too young anyway, why bother to send for him?
To his surprise, the Headmaster wasn’t even the slightest bit irritated. On the contrary, he grinned. “Indeed you have.” He bent over Dom’s letter again. “Top of your final year at Hogwarts, gratuated with honour at the Institution only weeks ago… though I suppose some of the exams were easier for you than they were for your fellow students.”
Dom couldn’t help but grin. “Yes sir, but that’s hardly my fault, is it?”
The Headmaster chuckled. “Very true.” He folded the parchment neatly and put it in a drawer of the desk, before looking straight at Dom again, his hands folded. “But good grades and degrees alone are not enough. Make no mistake, Mr. Monaghan: I expect a great deal from anyone who wishes to join my staff. Not only must they be all be exceedingly good at what they do, I also expect them to treat all students professionally and, most importantly, equally, no matter who their parents may be or where they may come from. Is that clear?”
Dom nodded gravely. “Yes sir.”
“Now you yourself are a half-blood, I believe?”
A sympathetic look came over the Headmaster’s face. “I see. That must have been hard for you, considering.”
Dom swallowed hard at the kindness in the green eyes. “It was, sir. I couldn’t go to public school, nor outside when I was very young. My parents kept me hidden, mostly. Not because they were ashamed of me, mind, but because I couldn’t really control myself, sometimes. That letter from Hogwarts when I was eleven came like a godsend, sir, because it was a place where I didn’t have to hide anymore. I was so afraid if I wouldn’t be good enough, I’d be sent back home, so I’ve always worked very hard at school. I felt I should do something for Hogwarts in return, if you understand.”
He looked like he understood perfectly, and a secret smile played on his lips. “Well, you certainly are committed.” He stood up. “I think I have heard all I need to know. Thank you for coming, Mr. Monaghan.”
Dom stood up too, and shook his hand. “The pleasure was all mine, sir.”
He made for the door, but was stopped by the Headmaster. “Before you go: I like to be on first name terms with the members of my staff. May I call you Dominic?”
It took a moment for Dom to realise the meaning of those words, but when he did he gave the man his most brilliant smile. “Dom, if you please, Professor.”
The Headmaster clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Dom. And please, call me Harry.”