Chapter I

Henry Morgan's story was a long one.

As of right now, he was 215 years old. His son was 49, and had learned about Henry's secret 25 years ago. The two of them moved to London ten years ago, with the disappearance of Abigail still looming over their heads- Henry couldn't take it, and Abe couldn't take Henry's mood on the whole matter, so they left the country in pursuit of a new start. The two were living in a small apartment together, pretending to be brothers; the farthest they had to move was across country four years ago, when a conspiracy theorist neighbor started ranting that Henry was a wizard that stole the Philosopher's stone. Other than that incident, life became simple, allowing for Henry to get better and stop his useless search for Abigail, and for Abe to stand by his side the whole time.

But in July of 1995, Henry Morgan got a letter. It was addressed to his exact location, down to the room he was in, and there was only a feeling in his stomach as he remembered just who addressed things like that. As he turned the letter over, the wax seal only confirmed his suspicions. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was sending him a letter.

What for, was the question.

He got up and grabbed a letter opener off of his desk, slicing the envelope neatly open before removing the letter.

Dear Henry,

I am writing to you as a friend, first and foremost. It has been a while since the two of us have talked, don't you think? More than twenty years, and yet I still think of you as the most kind and informative Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Hogwarts has even had. However, this letter is not all pleasantries.

Hogwarts is in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and if we cannot find one, the Ministry will appoint one themselves. I am not sure if you have kept up with the Wizarding World, Henry, but a Ministry Worker in Hogwarts will not be beneficial for anyone.

Please consider my offer, and if you do wish to accept, I am in my office every weekday from eleven to eleven.

Thank You,


P.S: The password is Licorice Sticks until next Wednesday.

Henry made a mental note to see exactly what was going on in the Wizarding World. But as the clock struck twelve and he checked the calendar- Wednesday- he called out.

"Abraham?" Said son poked his head into the room not ten seconds later with a small "Yeah?"

"I'm afraid I might have to leave- no, no, don't be frightened, no one figured anything out-" He rushed to assure Abe that nothing was wrong, before continuing. "An old friend of mine requested my help."

"How old are we talking?" He questioned, suspicious.

"He was the Headmaster of a private school I taught at in 1967."

"Wouldn't it be suspicious if you went back after thirty years and haven't aged?" Abe mentioned, and Henry furrowed his brows slightly, looking at the note. That was true, neither Henry nor Albus had spoken to each other, the other man most likely did not know Henry still looked the way he did. No amount of slower wizarding aging could hide this. But by the tone of his letter, Henry knew he couldn't leave Albus on his own- he would have to find out the exact details as to why he couldn't do so, but he couldn't leave his friend to the dogs.

"Abraham, as long as no previous students or professors are working there, I should be fine. I believe that Albus- that is, the Headmaster- is the type of man to listen before doing anything drastic." He didn't mention the fact that it was the perfect amount of time for both ex-students and professors to be working there. Neither of them mentioned it.

The two lapsed into silence, before Abe gave a final statement.

"If you really know what you're getting yourself into, dad, I wish you the best of luck. I'll keep the house clean until you get back." Henry gave a sigh of relief and a smile, happy that Abe wasn't going to fight him on this- he couldn't deal with another person storming out on him- but his mind wandered to another topic. Henry was a wizard, although it had been a long time since he practiced any magic outside of Hogwarts, and he had never told his son. It was entirely legal to tell him, both as a 'brother' and as his father, but the conversation never came up. However, his mind thought back to Albus' letter. I am not sure if you have kept up with the Wizarding World, Henry, but a Ministry Worker in Hogwarts will not be beneficial for anyone. What had he missed? He was there for the First Wizarding War, Albus and he spent long nights working to lead an army against Tom, but Albus had sent him a letter that everything was peaceful after his defeat. After Abraham came back from the Vietnam War and Henry came back from England, the two stayed in America. Everything was calm, and he had never heard about anything bad happening in the Wizarding World of Great Britain. Not even when they moved back to England. Not even when he poked his head into the wizarding world after he stopped practicing medicine, he hadn't heard anything wrong.

His curiosity was officially piqued.

If he was anyone else, he would have told Abraham, just in case this was deadly. But he was Henry Morgan, and didn't need to worry about such things. On the off chance that someone saw him, he would explain to his son, and they would move. But he figured it would be best for Abe to not know, for his own peace of mind.

He slipped upstairs, figuring now was as good a time as ever to use something he had very little of. Behind a painting in his room, Henry hid a small vial of Aging Potion, meant to make him look roughly double his age. He had timed it before- three hours, before it wore off- and he assumed that was plenty of time for a meeting with the Headmaster. Henry drank the vial and replaced it in the safe, reminding himself to clean it later as he shut the door and returned the painting to its proper position. He was rushing as he headed down the stairs and toward the door. As he slipped on a coat and scarf, he called out to his son. "I'm going now to go speak to Albus, but I should be back before dinner!"

"Just be careful, alright?" Abe called from somewhere in the house, and that was the final sound that Henry heard inside as he closed the door. The immortal man threw his gaze around as he started to walk to the nearest alleyway, ready to Apparate to Hogsmeade and travel up to Hogwarts. A part of him, deep down, was excited to practice magic once again.

Henry Morgan turned on his heel, and disappeared.

A chill went down the ex-doctor's spine as he felt lighter when he landed. His hands ran up and down his body, trying to find where he had splinched- he didn't seem to be missing anything, body wise, and it was only when he went to straighten it that he realized his scarf was gone.

It was better than his hand being gone, he supposed. Perhaps Apparating so far after so long was not the best idea he had.

Henry kept his head down as he made his way through Hogsmeade and up to the Hogwarts Gates. No matter how many times he saw it, Hogwarts always stood magnificently, and Henry stopped in his tracks for a moment, just taking in the castle. His mind wandered to when he was a student, a little first year, and how he lost countless points by being out after curfew. Really, there was no time before curfew to study the castle, and he was much too interested in the architecture (Still standing, since before 1000 AD!) to not explore. Headmaster Everard himself gave up trying to discipline Henry, after he lost more than seventy points, and teachers were told he was the single exception to the rule.

He was made Prefect his fifth year, no doubt so he could at least be useful as he broke curfew.

A smile grew on his face at the memories as he made his way up to Hogwarts, going through the doors and entering the wards with ease. He could feel as if he entered a bubble when he got passed the wards, and that made him go on his guard, wondering just exactly what was going on in the wizarding world. But Henry made his way to the Headmaster's office, happy that things didn't seem to change as he stood in front of the gargoyles.

"Licorice Sticks." He spoke confidently, and the Gargoyles moved to the side, allowing him entrance. Henry made his way up the stairs to the door of the Headmaster's office, knocking gently on said door to signal his arrival. A small "Come in" was heard from the inside, and Henry opened the door, letting his eyes wander.

Not much had changed in the thirty years it had been since he was here- trinkets still decorated the walls and shelves, Fawkes was still perched near the Headmaster's desk, and there were enough books to last Henry's lifetime.

At the front of the office was a familiar gray-haired wizard, standing as the two shook hands across the desk. Henry smiled as he greeted the Headmaster.

"Albus, it's been a while."

"Too long, if you were to ask me. How have you been?" The two exchanged pleasantries, but Albus didn't sit, so Henry remained standing as well.

"I have been sitting for much too long, Henry, would you care for a walk?" He agreed, and the two made their way out of the office. The walk down the stairs was silent, and it was only when they made it halfway through the first hallway that Albus started to speak.

"Tom has returned." The headmaster informed Henry as they turned a corner- Where they were going didn't concern Henry, as he was instead focusing on what he had just been told. It was a hit to the stomach, metaphorically speaking, and he turned alarmed eyes to Albus.

"How is that possible…? When did this happen?" He questioned, and Albus explained. The graying man told of everything he knew and thought- the Horcruxes, the resurrection, everything. Much like in the First War, the two would be confidants, it seemed. Albus would be foolish to not keep the observant and well-rounded wizard in on everything.

By the end of the story, they had made it back to the Headmaster's office, going passed the gargoyle and up to the chairs that they once stood in front of, sitting.

"The ministry wants to place a worker in the Defense professor position, and that is why we need you, Henry." Albus sat down in his chair, looking mentally exhausted for a few moments before he collected himself. "You were an outstanding professor years ago, and in this current time, the students need to learn as much Defense as they can."

Henry nodded, thinking things over and considering the risks. He would have to solidify a backstory and find a way to look double his age for the next school year- months of being on edge and taking the Aging Potion, having to make sure he always had a supply.

However, he would be working again. He would have money to buy the supplies, and could borrow a potions lab whenever he needed to make more. He always had his watch on him and was rather good at keeping track of time. He could keep a flask on him at all times. It wasn't impossible for him to keep up the charade of a sixty-some odd year old for the school year, and Dumbledore needed his help.

Henry Morgan turned to his old friend, smiling. "When should my supply list be ready by?"

A/N: I don't know what I'm doing I have other things I need to work on