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what_we_dreamTitle: Bush the Temporary Hogwarts Divination Professor (3/?)
Series: Hornblower/Harry Potter
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Notes: So much crack. Inspired by this fic
Summary: Title pretty much says it all
Prologue One Two Three
Class was nearly finished for the day. The faster students, Harry and Ron among them, were just packing up their things when the knock came on the door.
It wasn’t so unusual for the more dangerous classes in the main body of the school to receive visitors now and then, often in the form of Madame Pomfrey or Argus Filch after a particularly spectacular mistake, or sometimes for a Head of House to have an urgent message delivered by a prefect. Divinity had never in the history of their six years been graced by an interruption, a frequent disappointment in the Trelawney years when they would have welcomed one.
Harry, along with the rest of the class, immediately stiffened and then turned to look at the door. In happier days, they would have been curious. Now, with the war raging outside the walls of Hogwarts and all students keenly aware that any day could bring tragic news, they were fearful. Even Harry, without relatives, worried for Ron and Hermione’s parents whenever unusual owls swooped down towards the breakfast table.
At the head of the class, Professor Bush seemed unaffected; he put down his deck of cards absently and turned towards the door. But, Harry noticed, his hand had gone to his side. “Come.”
The door creaked open on ancient brass hinges, every student in the room straining forward and staring, to reveal a dark-haired man in navy robes similar to the professor’s. But where Bush’s were simply daily robes in an usual colour, it was clear the visitor’s were some sort of uniform, adorned with gold braid at one shoulder and a gold chain across the collar. He had a thin, sharp face and bright eyes, which immediately flitted over the class-full of students.
Harry glanced back at Professor Bush, and saw the shock on the man’s face for the instant before he wiped it away to a nearly-blank mask.
“I apologize, Professor Bush,” said the man at the door. “I didn’t realise you would be in the middle of class. I will return later.” He made to retreat, but the professor stepped in immediately.
“It’s no trouble, sir. The period is over.” The professor’s tone held the politeness of someone speaking to a superior, as most of the professors held when speaking to Dumbledore, but Harry would have guessed Professor Bush was several years older than the other.
Even as the professor spoke, the chimes sounded, charmed to echo through the entire school grounds. Harry rose with everyone else, quickly packing away what he hadn’t finished before. Beside him, Ron was sitting in his chair, staring at the man in the doorway. “What is it?” asked Harry, following his glance. Ron turned to look at him, amazed.
“D’you know who that is?”
“No.”
“I’ve seen him in the papers, and once at the Ministry when Dad took me to a posh reception a few years back. That’s Horatio Hornblower, one of the big heroes from the last war. He’s a naval auror.”
“A what?”
“They guard the water around Britain; plenty of people can’t apparate, and anyway you can’t bring big loads by apparition or portkey. In the last war You Know Who brought in supporters and supplies from abroad, lots of real nasty stuff from the darkest corners of the globe, by sea. Or tried to. The naval aurors patrol in ships like the one from Durmstrang; I’ve never seen one in person. Horatio Hornblower was one of the most successful captains of the war, and Dad says he’s been promoted to a higher rank now.”
“Wow. So how does he know Professor Bush then?”
As if hearing his name, the professor turned to them, and Harry realised they were the only ones left in the room.
“You’re dismissed, Potter, Weasley. Off you go.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry grabbed his back; beside him Ron stumbled as if he’d dropped something, but caught his balance and followed Harry down the aisle towards the door. Hornblower was standing just inside it, watching as they hurried out. He glanced as Harry as he passed, and Harry saw that the man was not quite as young as he’d looked, but that his eyes were if anything sharper. He nodded as they left, and shut the door behind him.
Harry was about to head down the stairs when Ron grabbed his arm and jerked him back.
Harry turned, surprised. “What?”
Ron held a finger to his lips, and in the other hand raised one end of an Extendable Ear. Harry met his eyes, grinning, and sat down on the cold stone floor.
Inside the classroom came the sounds of shuffling as the two men met, and possibly shook hands.
“It’s good to see you, sir.” The professor’s voice held more kindness than they’d heard from the man all semester.
“It’s good to see you too, William. And you don’t need to call me sir, you’re not in the service now.”
Ron looked at Harry and raised his eyebrows, deeply impressed. There was no reply from the professor, and Hornblower pushed on.
“That’s what I came to talk to you about. You know I’ve been commissioned as senior captain under Admiral Pellew in the Inshore Squadron, in the old Inde.”
“Yes, sir; congratulations.” Either Professor Bush had forgotten Hornblower’s words, or was ignoring them.
Hornblower blew on, sounding puzzled. “When I heard they were raising the lists again I tried to find you, but they told me you’d asked for a discharge.”
“Yes, sir. They had me running a desk in Maritime Affairs in the Ministry, but paperwork was never my strength.”
There was a thick silence. And then, quietly,
“I’m sorry, William.”
“You needn’t be, sir. It wasn’t your fault.”
Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged. Harry tapped at his foot; Ron shrugged again.
“In any case, I’ve come to offer you a position. I need a reliable First Lieutenant. I asked in at the Ministry and someone told me Professor Dumbledore had snapped you up.”
“Yes, sir, for the fall term at least. Trelawney had a bit of a blow up.”
Hornblower snorted quietly. “We’ll, they certainly got a better man for the job. No chance of you breaking the contract?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. The Headmaster did ask me specifically to stay until the end of term, and perhaps longer.”
“If you mentioned a commitment, he would let you go in December.”
Ron grimaced.
“Maybe he would, sir.”
“With your permission, I would like to speak to him. I need someone I can trust in these times, William.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
There was a quiet, whispering sound, and Harry leant closer to try to make it out before he realised what it was.
“I never thought I’d see you taking up cards. You never cared for the weekly Whist.”
Whist? mouthed Ron. Harry shrugged.
“No, sir.” The tone was warm, sounding like it was said with a smile.
“Well, do they have an opinion?”
“You know they’re too simple for that, sir. Just shades and impressions, nothing serious.”
“Feel free to be serious.” It was Hornblower’s turn to smile.
“Somehow I think the House Elves would frown on a rainstorm inside, sir.”
Harry and Ron both turned to the other simultaneously, frowning in confusion. But Hornblower continued on without giving them time to consider it.
“Since when have you spared anyone hard work, William?”
“Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age.”
There was more papery whispering, then the quiet clip of a card being pulled from a deck.
“Well?”
“I told you, sir, just a shades and impressions. Sometimes not even that.”
“William–”
“If you get the Headmaster’s permission, sir, I would be proud to join your crew.”
Another pause, this time with a rustle of cloth.
“Thank you, William.”
“It’s you I should thank, sir. There can’t be any shortage of men wanting to serve under you.”
“No. Only a shortage of trustworthy ones. I’ll take this up with Dumbledore, then.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harry stood, pulling Ron up with him, as footsteps approached the door. They were about to bolt down the stairs when the steps stopped.
“William?”
“Yes, sir?”
“This is your choice, you know. It – between myself and Hogwarts, I realise that I rather pale. If you would prefer –”
“Sir, I would be honoured to fight with you, as soon as my duties are finished here.”
A pause. And then,
“Then you shall.”
“Thank you, sir.”
And they really did bolt down the stairs, just an instant before the door opened behind them.
Series: Hornblower/Harry Potter
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Notes: So much crack. Inspired by this fic
Summary: Title pretty much says it all
Prologue One Two Three
Class was nearly finished for the day. The faster students, Harry and Ron among them, were just packing up their things when the knock came on the door.
It wasn’t so unusual for the more dangerous classes in the main body of the school to receive visitors now and then, often in the form of Madame Pomfrey or Argus Filch after a particularly spectacular mistake, or sometimes for a Head of House to have an urgent message delivered by a prefect. Divinity had never in the history of their six years been graced by an interruption, a frequent disappointment in the Trelawney years when they would have welcomed one.
Harry, along with the rest of the class, immediately stiffened and then turned to look at the door. In happier days, they would have been curious. Now, with the war raging outside the walls of Hogwarts and all students keenly aware that any day could bring tragic news, they were fearful. Even Harry, without relatives, worried for Ron and Hermione’s parents whenever unusual owls swooped down towards the breakfast table.
At the head of the class, Professor Bush seemed unaffected; he put down his deck of cards absently and turned towards the door. But, Harry noticed, his hand had gone to his side. “Come.”
The door creaked open on ancient brass hinges, every student in the room straining forward and staring, to reveal a dark-haired man in navy robes similar to the professor’s. But where Bush’s were simply daily robes in an usual colour, it was clear the visitor’s were some sort of uniform, adorned with gold braid at one shoulder and a gold chain across the collar. He had a thin, sharp face and bright eyes, which immediately flitted over the class-full of students.
Harry glanced back at Professor Bush, and saw the shock on the man’s face for the instant before he wiped it away to a nearly-blank mask.
“I apologize, Professor Bush,” said the man at the door. “I didn’t realise you would be in the middle of class. I will return later.” He made to retreat, but the professor stepped in immediately.
“It’s no trouble, sir. The period is over.” The professor’s tone held the politeness of someone speaking to a superior, as most of the professors held when speaking to Dumbledore, but Harry would have guessed Professor Bush was several years older than the other.
Even as the professor spoke, the chimes sounded, charmed to echo through the entire school grounds. Harry rose with everyone else, quickly packing away what he hadn’t finished before. Beside him, Ron was sitting in his chair, staring at the man in the doorway. “What is it?” asked Harry, following his glance. Ron turned to look at him, amazed.
“D’you know who that is?”
“No.”
“I’ve seen him in the papers, and once at the Ministry when Dad took me to a posh reception a few years back. That’s Horatio Hornblower, one of the big heroes from the last war. He’s a naval auror.”
“A what?”
“They guard the water around Britain; plenty of people can’t apparate, and anyway you can’t bring big loads by apparition or portkey. In the last war You Know Who brought in supporters and supplies from abroad, lots of real nasty stuff from the darkest corners of the globe, by sea. Or tried to. The naval aurors patrol in ships like the one from Durmstrang; I’ve never seen one in person. Horatio Hornblower was one of the most successful captains of the war, and Dad says he’s been promoted to a higher rank now.”
“Wow. So how does he know Professor Bush then?”
As if hearing his name, the professor turned to them, and Harry realised they were the only ones left in the room.
“You’re dismissed, Potter, Weasley. Off you go.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry grabbed his back; beside him Ron stumbled as if he’d dropped something, but caught his balance and followed Harry down the aisle towards the door. Hornblower was standing just inside it, watching as they hurried out. He glanced as Harry as he passed, and Harry saw that the man was not quite as young as he’d looked, but that his eyes were if anything sharper. He nodded as they left, and shut the door behind him.
Harry was about to head down the stairs when Ron grabbed his arm and jerked him back.
Harry turned, surprised. “What?”
Ron held a finger to his lips, and in the other hand raised one end of an Extendable Ear. Harry met his eyes, grinning, and sat down on the cold stone floor.
Inside the classroom came the sounds of shuffling as the two men met, and possibly shook hands.
“It’s good to see you, sir.” The professor’s voice held more kindness than they’d heard from the man all semester.
“It’s good to see you too, William. And you don’t need to call me sir, you’re not in the service now.”
Ron looked at Harry and raised his eyebrows, deeply impressed. There was no reply from the professor, and Hornblower pushed on.
“That’s what I came to talk to you about. You know I’ve been commissioned as senior captain under Admiral Pellew in the Inshore Squadron, in the old Inde.”
“Yes, sir; congratulations.” Either Professor Bush had forgotten Hornblower’s words, or was ignoring them.
Hornblower blew on, sounding puzzled. “When I heard they were raising the lists again I tried to find you, but they told me you’d asked for a discharge.”
“Yes, sir. They had me running a desk in Maritime Affairs in the Ministry, but paperwork was never my strength.”
There was a thick silence. And then, quietly,
“I’m sorry, William.”
“You needn’t be, sir. It wasn’t your fault.”
Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged. Harry tapped at his foot; Ron shrugged again.
“In any case, I’ve come to offer you a position. I need a reliable First Lieutenant. I asked in at the Ministry and someone told me Professor Dumbledore had snapped you up.”
“Yes, sir, for the fall term at least. Trelawney had a bit of a blow up.”
Hornblower snorted quietly. “We’ll, they certainly got a better man for the job. No chance of you breaking the contract?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. The Headmaster did ask me specifically to stay until the end of term, and perhaps longer.”
“If you mentioned a commitment, he would let you go in December.”
Ron grimaced.
“Maybe he would, sir.”
“With your permission, I would like to speak to him. I need someone I can trust in these times, William.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
There was a quiet, whispering sound, and Harry leant closer to try to make it out before he realised what it was.
“I never thought I’d see you taking up cards. You never cared for the weekly Whist.”
Whist? mouthed Ron. Harry shrugged.
“No, sir.” The tone was warm, sounding like it was said with a smile.
“Well, do they have an opinion?”
“You know they’re too simple for that, sir. Just shades and impressions, nothing serious.”
“Feel free to be serious.” It was Hornblower’s turn to smile.
“Somehow I think the House Elves would frown on a rainstorm inside, sir.”
Harry and Ron both turned to the other simultaneously, frowning in confusion. But Hornblower continued on without giving them time to consider it.
“Since when have you spared anyone hard work, William?”
“Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age.”
There was more papery whispering, then the quiet clip of a card being pulled from a deck.
“Well?”
“I told you, sir, just a shades and impressions. Sometimes not even that.”
“William–”
“If you get the Headmaster’s permission, sir, I would be proud to join your crew.”
Another pause, this time with a rustle of cloth.
“Thank you, William.”
“It’s you I should thank, sir. There can’t be any shortage of men wanting to serve under you.”
“No. Only a shortage of trustworthy ones. I’ll take this up with Dumbledore, then.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harry stood, pulling Ron up with him, as footsteps approached the door. They were about to bolt down the stairs when the steps stopped.
“William?”
“Yes, sir?”
“This is your choice, you know. It – between myself and Hogwarts, I realise that I rather pale. If you would prefer –”
“Sir, I would be honoured to fight with you, as soon as my duties are finished here.”
A pause. And then,
“Then you shall.”
“Thank you, sir.”
And they really did bolt down the stairs, just an instant before the door opened behind them.
