Everything That Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong

Chapter Two

A/N: Bored, so randomly publishing the second chapter I wrote before

Dumbledore and Harry's PoV

The younger Dumbledore of 1976 frowned at the swirling ball that had appeared in the middle of his office and was getting larger and larger. "What-" he began out loud, but stopped when the light flashed and a young man, who looked at most 20, stumbled out of the light, which disappeared as quickly as it came. He had on a deep violet traveling cloak, which were high enough to reveal dragon-skin boots. He had long, dishevelled dark hair and round black glasses which were half-covered by his hair. He bore an uncanny resemblance to one of the star pranksters in the school, James Potter, who Dumbledore had grown to be fond of due to the amusing few visits he and one of his fellow pranksters Sirius Black had paid to him.

     "Who are you?" Dumbledore demanded in a loud, clear voice. The boy plunged his hand into his pocket, apparently searching for something, taking no notice of his words. Just in case he was taking out his wand, Dumbledore picked up his.

     "You seemed to have apparated inside of the building—no one can do that, yet you somehow accomplished it. Are you a learner and supporter of the Dark Arts, here, perhaps, to lay a message from Voldemort?"

     The boy finally looked up, and his startling bright green eyes shone. "Here," he said abruptly in a mature voice, and held out a white envelope with a time turner seal out to Dumbledore, who took it carefully. His fingers opened the seal and envelope, and his blue eyes scanned the text written on it.

     "Well," he said at last, smiling up at the young wizard. "Mr. Harry Evanter—I assume that it is not your real name?" he added. Harry shook his head.

     "It's Harry Potter, sir."

     Dumbledore scanned him. "Well, due to your appearance and last name, I'm assuming James Potter is the father? Don't even need to ask the mother, eyes like those don't appear every day, although, I have to admit Mister James and Miss Lily do not really seem the pair—"

     "May we please continue, Professor?" the boy interrupted politely.

     The old wizard cleared his throat, and handed Harry parchments clipped together, and a rather dirty-looking quill. "Fill out the questions in this application test and let me know when you're ready."

     Harry set to work immediately, and grinned at the first question: What is the name, stabilizer, and incantation for the advanced charm that protects one from Dementors?

     The test zipped by under Harry's eyes, and in no more than 15 minutes, he triumphantly handed back a complete test to a surprised Dumbledore.

     "Well, well," he murmured, impressed. "You have managed to complete the test in at least half the time as others before you, and achieve full marks. Well done, Professor Evanter, you are hired."

     Harry cockily smiled at him. He wasn't very sure of his teaching skills on actually legal, very organized classes, unlike the DA group he started in his fifth year, but teaching his best and favorite class couldn't be that hard.

     "Now," Dumbledore flicked his wand. "Your office is behind the DADA classroom, I'm sure you know where that is, and the password is "scarlet snake", which you can change at any time. After you get settled in, the feast begins at nine 'o clock, be at the staff's table by then." He waved his wand, and a piece of parchment appeared in Harry's hand. "Here is your class schedule for this term. Any questions?"

      When Harry remained silent, Dumbledore smiled a last time at him, and gestured out the door. "You might want to unpack." Harry bid a good bye to the headmaster, stroked Fawkes who nipped him fondly ("He usually doesn't care for people who come here except me, and that took a long time," Dumbledore said in a surprised voice) and started towards the door, but stopped. "Er, professor," he said quietly. "Can I keep my snake?" "Snake—?" Dumbledore started, but a green and gold snake of no species Dumbledore had ever seen slithered out of his sleeve and hissed. "I'm parseltongue." The wizard said simply. Dumbledore smiled at him. "Of course." Harry grinned and walked down the familiar stone gargoyle, and ran into, of all people, a sixth-year who looked exactly like him.