Chapter Text
“Parent teacher conferences?” Harry repeated slowly.
Nezu beamed. “In order to rebuild the bond of trust between guardian and school we thought it would be best to give those guardians that are able to attend the ability to speak to their children’s teachers one on one.”
Harry blinked. Twice.
“And for the international students?” Nemuri asked.
“Video conferences will be available as well,” Hermione piped up, shuffling her stack of papers and duplicating one of them with a wave of her hand before sending a copy floating over to each of them. Well most of them floated. Harry and Ron’s folded themselves into paper birds and fluttered. around their heads.
Ignoring the little paper bird flitting about him with practiced ease, Harry narrowed his eyes on Nezu. “What is in place to protect the students?”
(He remembered perfectly manicured nails pressed into the meat of his shoulder until they threatened to cut skin. He remembered porcelain smiles hiding fangs. He remembered pretty words dripping with false care as the bruises hidden under his too big clothes ached.
He had been so damn grateful to learn that Hogwarts didn’t have anything similar. Not that it had spared him in the end once word of his “misconduct” was sent back to the perfect little house in a perfect little town filled with the perfect kind of monsters. Harry would not put his students through the same hurt he had been put through, not even if Nezu ordered it.)
Part of his thoughts, his conviction, must have shown on his face as Nezu’s smile was razor sharp when he spoke. “There is nothing saying you have to tell them the truth, Potter-kun. All of you have been trained for what behaviors to be aware of both in our students and their guardians. I trust you to use your discretion to decide what information is need to know and to make note of any concerns that arise through the night.”
The thought made him twitchy… or maybe that was the lingering effects of the Cruciatus Curse that had still not been completely healed. Either way, Harry sank back against his chair and ran trembling fingers through his wild blue curls. “For the record, I think this is a shite idea.”
If Nezu was offended by Harry’s insubordination, it didn’t show on his face. If anything the mammal looked downright pleased to be talked back to. “Your concerns are noted and appreciated, Potter-kun. I am open to any ideas for how to best protect our students through this upcoming event.”
(The little paper bird finally settled on the top of Harry’s head, and Shouta was kind enough to pluck it off before it could turn his curls into any more of a bird’s nest than they already were… or maybe the man was studying the charmed paper for more clues. It was a bit hard to tell when it came to him.)
Harry sucked on his teeth before huffing out a sigh. He had a rather sinking suspicion that he had walked right into whatever trap Nezu had planted for him. Still, he owed it to his students to be their advocate. “Well for starters…”
______
“Harry.”
“Hermione.”
Across his bedroom with a garment bag hovering next to her, his sister scowled. “You’re wearing a suit.”
“What’s wrong with my uniform?”
“It’s a crop top, Harry!”
“It’s good enough to fight crime in!”
Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him. Harry glared back, never one to bow before a challenge, even if that challenge was nothing more than annoying his sister.
After a moment longer she huffed. “Honestly, Harry, it’s only for a few hours. Just wear the damn suit.”
Deciding to take the mature route, Harry stuck his tongue out at her, before snatching the garment bag that had drifted over to nudge him out of the air. “These things are worse than dress robes, do you know that? Medieval fucking torture devices they are.”
“Actually the modern suit was made in—,” Hermione cut herself off when she caught the look on Harry’s face. “Right. Wanting to complain not an explanation.”
“A rain check on the history of formal wear for when I don’t have to revisit our old uniform days?” Harry offered with a little sheepish look, turning to the bag so he didn’t have to see her expression fall when she realized the issue.
(As much as Harry loved Hogwarts, still thought of it as home in many ways, their school years had been one terrible incident after another. The memories weighed heavily on all of them, left marks on how they interacted with each other and the world at large. And Harry… Harry hadn’t worn a tie in years. Had hardly tied his at all in their sixth year now that she thought about it, instead letting it hang loose at his neck. Had taken the detentions for being out of uniform with a shrug and a smile.)
Harry reached out for the tie (black, thinner than what they wore at school, soft enough to tell him it was a far more expensive as well) but Hermione beat him to it, summoning it from the garment bag and catching it in her free hand.
She was smiling when he looked at her, head tipped to the side with mischief in her eyes that didn’t quite hide the sadness. The guilt. “Wear one of Sirius’s shirts underneath. If the parents don’t like it they can complain about the international Top Ten Hero teaching their children to me.”
He loved her. Down to his very bones.
Hermione Granger, his best friend, his sister. Always willing to stand at his side whether it be against a Dark Lord or irate parents who thought he should be more professional.
His laugh was rough, a bit thick with tears he wouldn’t let fall, but she didn’t call him out on it. “So… suits?”
She didn’t even hesitate to flop down on his bed and regale him with the history of modern formal wear as he changed.
(It was almost like the quiet moments in the tent again. Living in each other's pockets without a hint of awkwardness or shame. Rambling to fill the silence so the dark thoughts, both from the situation and the horcrux they passed back and forth, didn’t consume them entirely.
Neither of them knew how to feel about it.)
______
“You’re staring.”
Harry nearly choked on his water at Bill’s voice at his shoulder, only years of instincts keeping him from hurling the little paper cup at the man’s head in surprise. From his brother’s wide, lazy grin he knew exactly how close he had gotten to an impromptu shower.
“I wasn’t— What are you doing here?” Harry sputtered.
He hasn’t been staring. He had simply… noticed Hizashi’s broad shoulders and Shouta’s sharp jawline now that they had traded their usual uniforms for matching suits with their hair tied back in half buns. It was a normal enough thing to notice considering he had never seen Shouta not completely hidden in his hair or Hizashi in a button up shirt.
Bill snorted, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulder and ruffling his still-blue curls. “You’re a shit liar, has anyone told you?”
(Doubtful. Harry wouldn’t have survived this long if he was a bad liar. Familiarity and lack of active danger simply made him… sloppy.
Yeah that was it.)
“You didn’t answer my question,” Harry groused, ducking under Bill’s massive arm and shoving his now even more wild hair out of his eyes. Hermione was going to kill them both for ruining the ‘artfully messy’ look she had spent hours coaxing Harry’s hair into.
“Legally, I’m one of the guardians of a UA student, and Fleur was needed at the bank,” Bill shrugged. “Thought it’d be nice for Yuuga not to feel so alone, you know?”
(For a moment Bill’s eyes were far away. For a moment Harry could see him younger, unscarred, laughing at him for not expecting his family to come see him before the final task. For a moment Harry saw him grim-faced and standing guard at the foot of his hospital bed, scowling at anyone who got too close as Harry tried to process where the day went so wrong.)
Harry pressed his shoulder against Bill’s, an honest smile playing on his lips for the first time since this night had started. “Softie.”
Bill’s answering smile was as warm and familiar as one of Molly’s sweaters. “I believe there’s a muggle saying about cauldrons and kettles, Potter.”
“Close enough to it,” Harry grinned. “C’mon, let’s head back to my station and we can at least pretend that we’re doing what we’re supposed to.”
“Always a rebel.”
“I’m not the one flashing dragon teeth around muggles, William.”
Unfortunately, Harry couldn’t spend the entire evening gossiping with Bill and ignoring his responsibilities as a teacher, which only became more clear when Yuuga led Bill away with a shaky smile to speak with Midnight and a familiar head of red and white hair approached with a young woman not far behind.
“Sensei,” Todoroki didn’t smile exactly, but he was certainly more at ease than he had been when Harry caught a glimpse of him earlier in the night before the various guardians had arrived. Relaxed around the woman in a way that Harry has not seen the boy around most adults.
Something to make note of for later.
“This is my sister, Todoroki Fuyumi.”
Harry’s smile was honest as he bowed to her, pressing his lips together to hold in a snarl when she blinked at him with the same stunned look her brother wore when faced with kindness though she hid it better behind a sweet smile and a bow of her own. Endeavor had left his mark on all of his children, it seemed. Something Harry was not inclined to forgive, fellow hero or not.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Todoroki-san. Your brother is a delight to have in class.”
Her eyes traced over his face, weighing his expression against his words, testing the air for a lie she wouldn’t find.
(How often had she had to weigh admiration for her father against the truth of what people felt for her and her siblings? How many times had she stood between them and the world at large, only letting those who truly cared about them rather than their legacy through? How long had she played the role of mother and protector when she should have been protected herself?)
Eventually the ice in her eyes melted and the smile she gave him was full of gratitude. “Shoto talks about your class a lot when he calls home.”
Todoroki didn’t blush exactly — Harry wasn’t entirely sure his quirk would allow him to — but mismatched eyes darted away from him to narrow on his sister in an expression so familiar it made him want to grin. “Good things I hope,” He said instead, “Or at least, if not the good things then the funny ones.”
Fuyumi Todoroki’s eyes glinted with mirth as her brother pointedly didn’t pout at her side. Harry didn’t miss the slight uptick at the corner of his mouth, however, when he thought neither of them were looking. By the time the two of them moved on from Harry’s station he had learned that Shouto Todoroki could in fact blush and Fuyumi had lost some of that careful edge to her expression.
Harry didn’t have much of a reprieve after they left, however, as their eyes caught on a familiar shade of green in the crowd.
“Midoriya,” Harry smiled when he saw teen lingering a polite distance away, gesturing them and the woman beside them closer with a careful wave of his hand.
(Both he and Midoriya ignored the painful spasm of his fingers when he waved them closer. The woman, on the other hand, followed every movement of his hand with sharp, unwavering eyes.
Harry suppressed the urge to shoot her a rude gesture, just barely.)
“Where’s All Might?” The woman demanded, loud enough and far enough away that several heads turned in their direction.
Harry didn’t allow his smile to waver as he again waved them closer, pretending not to notice the humiliated flush to Midoriya’s cheeks as they silently willed their mother to move. “He’s around here somewhere. The two of us agreed that we would both meet with parents tonight since we share our classes.”
Midoriya’s mother pressed her lips together and narrowed green eyes at him. At his hair. At his hands. At his scar. He held his head high through her assessment, refusing to allow himself to be cowed.
(He had grown up with Petunia Dursley breathing down his neck at every turn. It would take a far more practiced hand to make Harry Potter feel shame.)
“We’re going to find All Might, Izuku.”
The poor kid jolted, not quite able to hide the near flinch from Harry’s practiced eyes. Harry forced his smile to gentle into something more honest as he met their eyes. Assurance that he wasn’t angry or upset with them. “He should be on the other end of the hall next to Eraserhead. I’ll be here all night if you want to swing back around.”
For all their mother scoffed at the offer, Midoriya was smart enough to realize it hadn’t been for her. Smart enough to wait for her to turn before sending him a teary but grateful smile.
It ached to allow them to walk away, but Harry waited for them to disappear around the corner of one of the many stations before pulling out his phone. Even without his hands being in the state they were, Harry had never been exactly familiar with technology, so by the time he had managed to get the message off to Shouta his skin was feeling tight with frustration and it was only years of practice keeping his temper in check around muggles that kept the lights from flickering.
He turned for the cooler set close behind his station, fumbling with the little cup for a moment before he managed to fill it and bring the cool water to his lips. It did little to smother the growing fire in his chest, but what little it did helped him get a firmer grip on his temper. Helped him feel more in control as he took his place back at his station.
“You look like you could use a break.”
Harry blinked, fingers loosening on the paper cup he had been holding in surprise. A familiar slender hand darted forward to grab it before it could fall, and Jiro’s familiar smirk set him at ease.
(All of the kids had been… protective might have been the word, after news of Harry’s lingering injuries had spread. None of them ever mentioned the spasms or the many things Harry would drop throughout the day. Only moving to steady his hand to keep him from wearing his own tea. He was grateful for her assistance here. Grateful that so many eyes hadn’t seen him spill on himself and instead saw a student shaking her instructor’s hand.)
“You know back home we have a saying about rest and people like me.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “If that was true you should be retired and peacefully living out your days, Sensei.”
Harry blinked, taken aback. A laugh drew his eyes from the rather victorious gleam in her eyes to see a grinning man in ripped jeans shooting him a lazy smile. “At least she calls you nice. Normally when I get comebacks like that I’m being called old.”
“Trust me my child calls me old often enough for both of them,” Harry assured, pulling his hands back from Jiro and smiling at her father. “I’m Potter Harry, it’s lovely to meet you.”
“Jiro Kyotoku. Hey, is that a Weird Sisters shirt? I haven’t seen them in ages.”
Everything around Harry slowed as he looked down to confirm that he was, in fact, wearing the Weird Sisters shirt he had picked up at a concert a few years after the war. As far as he knew they were primarily an English band, a magical English band, so anyone who would know them should have had some reaction to Harry’s name. Yet Kyotoku’s friendly smile remained with no hint at all that he had ever heard of The Boy Who Lived.
Harry shook himself from his thoughts and huffed a laugh. “So it is. I didn’t think anyone here would have heard of them. They’re pretty… underground even back home.”
“Now you’ve done it,” Jiro groaned under her breath, shooting Harry a mock glare.
Beside her, her father’s eyes lit up. “ Tell me about it! The only time I’ve ever seen them was in some hole in the wall club in London when we were on tour years ago! Must have been some real underground shit though. Lost my wallet in the pit so Mika and I went back to look for it and couldn’t even find the club! It was the strangest thing though, right before we were set to come home my wallet just showed up at the front desk of the hotel with nothing missing and signed by the whole band!”
(Officially, Harry decided, this conversation had never happened. If it never happened then he was by no means obligated to report any breach in the Statute, and if it had happened, well, it sounded like no harm was done either way.)
He grinned, lopsided and full of mischief. “That’s how all their shows are, mate. You have to know someone who knows someone before they’re gone forever.” It was mostly true… when they were playing in muggle venues anyway.
Kyotoku’s grin was just as bright. “See! You are the kind of guy I can trust to teach my baby girl! Now how is she doing in class?”
“Dad!”
Talking to the Jiros was definitely one of the highlights of Harry’s night, and he was still smiling when Kyotoku was dragged away by a red faced Jiro who was grumbling about Present Mic’s station being open.
That smile didn’t waver as Yaoyorozu walked up to him with a cell phone clutched in her hands. His eyes flicked down to the silencing runes inscribed around his little station, identical to those surrounding all of the teacher, but the phone seemed unaffected by the ambient magic in the air.
(He wondered for a moment what level of background magic was tolerable to all the tech that surrounded them. Something told him that he would be the wrong person to test it.)
“Yaoyorozu,” Harry dipped his head in greeting.
Her smile was perfectly polite as always as she bowed back to him, but her hands were tense around her phone. Knuckles bleached bone white just outside of the camera’s view. “Potter-sensei, thank you for making time for—,”
“Can we speed this up,” A woman’s voice snapped from the phone. “I’m needed in a meeting in twenty minutes and we still have more of your teachers to speak to.”
Something in Harry went very still.
(He remembered perfectly manicured nails pressed into the meat of his shoulder until they threatened to cut skin. He remembered porcelain smiles hiding fangs. He remembered pretty words dripping with false care.)
Harry pressed his hands against the wood of the table to hide their shaking and tried very hard to breathe through the anger burning in his chest. There were too many people here. He had to keep himself under control. Frying this many electronics would cause too many questions.
Yaoyorozu needed him calm.
When he looked at the camera his smile was all Petunia Dursley. Perfect down to the number of teeth on display regardless of how it made his scars ache. He could almost smell his aunt’s heavy rose perfume as he bowed his head to the phone.
“Of course we can. Yaoyorozu is an exemplary student and a joy to have in class. Did you have any concerns you wanted addressed?” The second question, for all he was still smiling at the camera, was addressed to his student. Green eyes darting up to catch and hold her gaze.
“If she is so exemplary then there should be no issues.”
Behind the camera, out of her mother’s sight, Yaoyorozu hesitated.
Harry dipped his own head in acknowledgment of both of them. “Of course! Should any concerns arise in the future, I am always available to address them as is every other member of staff.”
While her mother scoffed, Yaoyorozu looked at Harry with wide, thankful eyes.
When she had left to speak to her next teacher, Harry moved his hands and scowled down at the frost he found beneath them. He only had long enough to cross his arms over the handprints before the next student stepped up to him with their parent in tow.
Meeting after meeting passed in a blur, all three years of his students and their parents or guardians. Sometimes it was just his students alone with sheepish smiles. Sometimes there was a parent or sibling at their shoulder. Sero had a rather bored child perched on his back as both of his mothers corralled two kids each. Iida was beaming as he walked next to his brother’s wheelchair.
All over it was mostly painless with only the occasional (constant) questioning about why he was “taking All Might’s place” and the comments on his age compared to his coworkers.
Still Harry was ready to outright riot by the time the crowds started to thin and was wondering if he should be the one to test the surrounding tech’s magic tolerance when a laughing voice dragged him out of his thoughts.
“And I thought Eraser looked like he was about to start climbing the walls.”
“What can I say, we can’t all be naturals when it comes to socializing.”
Nemuri laughed as she looped her arm through one of Harry’s, leaning against his side as they watched the thinning crowd. Mostly support students and their families left now. Harry would have felt bad for Power Loader if the man wasn’t all but radiating pride as he talked about each and every one of his students’ projects at length.
(Harry rather thought Arthur would enjoy talking to him. They certainly both had the adoring father air down.)
“It wasn’t so bad was it?” An innocent question, or it would have been if Harry didn’t know better.
Still his smile, as much as a mask as her own, stayed firmly in place as he tipped his head. Pretending to think it over. “The night certainly had a few surprises, at the very least.”
She hummed, pressing their cheeks together. “Did you notice there was a face missing in those surprises?”
Harry blinked then nodded, patting her hand as he untangled their arms. “I think I’ll take a break. Maybe climb a wall or two. Will you be here when I get back?”
Nemuri’s smile was gentle, nothing like her normal Midnight persona. “None of us are leaving until we see our kids. Go have your break and send any more… surprises our way.”
______
Hitoshi wondered why he had bothered showing up.
It wasn’t like he had thought his foster parents would have come. They had made it clear back in his first year when they signed off on him moving into the dorms that they wanted nothing to do with him during the school year.
(“You’re UA’s problem,” Ito-san had told him, shoving this year's dorm slip against Hitoshi’s chest with his signature in place. “Don’t fuck it up before you can finally move out.”)
They hadn’t even read the text he sent them about parent-teacher conferences.
Still here Hitoshi was, sitting alone in some hallway and trying to pretend he wasn’t biting back tears.
Stupid. He was so fucking stupid to expect anything different.
“Wotcher.”
Hitoshi blinked, lifting his head from the wall to look at Potter-sensei. He was always a mess of contradictions. Messy blue hair and too bright eyes. An easy smile forever made lopsided by scars that tugged on one half of his face. A suit jacket hung open over a band shirt and trembling hands (Cruciatus hands, the lingering spasms and twitches a constant reminder of what he had done for them) tucked lazily into his pockets as he moved to lean against the wall across from Hitoshi.
“Don’t you have a job you should be doing?”
Potter-sensei laughed, sliding down the wall across from him to be at Hitoshi’s level and shooting him his signature lopsided grin.
(How could someone who looked so sad keep smiling? How did Potter-sensei take an extended Crucio and walk it off?)
“I’ve been doing my job, quite well might I add. I deserve a break for behaving so well for so long.”
He rather doubted that Potter-sensei had done anything close to behaving, but it was typically safer to let adults keep their delusions.
His eyes caught on the blue curls falling into Potter-sensei’s laughing eyes. Caught and held. And held. And held. When he finally dragged his eyes away, it was to a knowing smile.
“I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re worried about. Teddy’s grounded, and you and I are absolutely going to have a talk later about what constitutes ‘too far,’ but I’m not mad.”
Hitoshi’s breath caught and for a moment terror threatened to overwhelm him. This was it. This was the moment he well and truly fucked up and got kicked out of UA. He was going to have to pack his things and go back to face Ito-san after being told not to.
“Hey,” A foot — still in boots even when Potter-sensei was wearing a suit — knocked gently against Hitoshi’s, “I said I’m not mad, didn’t I? I happen to think the blue is a good look for me.”
“You just said it was too far.” Hitoshi pointed out, burying his terror under sarcasm.
Potter-sensei nodded, but he was still smiling. “It was. And I’m not mad at you for it. I knew what I was opening myself up for when I gave two classes of child soldiers this assignment, and if you had done this to someone else we would be having a very different conversation but… I get it.”
Anger flared hot in Hitoshi’s throat. Burning its way up and demanding he spit questions like venom.
How could he know? How could anyone possibly know ?
“I turned one of my teacher’s hair blue once, ironically enough,” Potter-sensei said with a smile. “It was the ugliest wig you had ever seen, so I was really doing her a favor. Not that anyone saw it that way. They couldn’t prove it, of course since it was… well a ‘quirk accident’ I suppose we can call it. Didn’t stop them from blaming me.”
Hitoshi blinked. It was hard to think of Potter-sensei in school, much less in trouble at school. He was Harry Potter, after all. The Boy Who Lived. The Man Who Conquered. Ouroboros. He was larger than life. He couldn’t have been like Hitoshi.
(No one could have hated him. Could have called him a villain. Could they?)
Green eyes sparked with something Hitoshi couldn’t place, and a moment later Potter-sensei was standing, holding a hand out to Hitoshi with a lopsided smile.
“What are you doing?” Hitoshi asked, frowning.
“Didn’t anyone tell you?” Potter-sensei asked. “Technically, while you’re at UA the teachers are your guardians. Now come on, I want to hear teachers brag about one of my kids.”
For as long as Hitoshi could remember, he had seen Harry Potter as a hero, an unattainable ideal, a savior meant to do big things like killing Dark Lords and ending wars single handedly, and Potter-sensei certainly was that some of the time. But here, with his lopsided smile and blue hair and trembling hand reached out to Hitoshi in invitation, Hitoshi could only see a man.
Hitoshi took Harry Potter’s hand and allowed himself to pretend, just for a while, that he had a family again.