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Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.
That was never a good sign, Harry thought wryly.
“I am pleased to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…” — Hermione sighed. Harry couldn’t help but agree; another year, another train wreck — “Professor Kakashi Hatake.”
The masked man with impossible silver hair inclined his head, and then promptly flopped down into his seat at the head table.
Hermione sighed again. “Do you think this one will be competent? Or, better yet, not a Death Eater in disguise?”
Ron laughed. “Oi, Lupin was good. Except for the whole, y’know…”
Fifth year, Harry thought. He couldn’t wait.
.
Snape was, predictably, as unbearable as ever.
Dumbledore was, predictably, absent.
Ron was, predictably, himself, and the same went for Malfoy. (It seemed that every year the blond menace just got worse; and after the mess that was the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry rudely inconveniencing his father’s Master seemed to draw Malfoy’s ire like nothing else.)
Hermione was, not so predictably, actually pretty understanding over his lack of motivation when it came to homework. Whenever she seemed like she was about to object, she would glance at the ever-growing shadows under Harry’s eyes, and close her mouth without comment.
Harry could barely bring himself to care. He was barely getting any sleep, he could only just keep meals down; and after the summer, where he’d dropped a half stone courtesy of his oh-so-loving relatives, Harry’s usual inflammatory attitude was replaced by a sort of unstirred numbness.
The rest of the school left him alone, for the most part. Cedric’s death hadn’t done much for their morale.
So Harry didn’t have high hopes when he walked into Hatake’s classroom. Students were milling about, and even though class was due to start in less than a minute, their professor was nowhere to be seen.
Hermione waved Harry over, and he went to sit between her and Ron. None of them bothered to take their school things out; besides, the only assigned book for the year was The Art of War.
Harry could hear the Muggle-haters already.
Hatake slouched into the classroom two minutes after it started and (impressively) ignored the Ravenclaws’ indignant cries of ‘you’re late!’.
He stood in front of the class and leaned lazily on his desk. “You’re the fifth-years, ne?”
Hatake’s voice was loud and clear, despite his mouth being hidden by a mask, and had traces of an accent from… somewhere. Harry couldn’t place it.
“Where do you reckon he’s from?” Ron leaned over to ask Harry. Harry only shrugged in reply; Hatake was talking again.
“Put your things away, get into pairs,” their professor said.
Hermione and Ron immediately gravitated towards each other, and Harry beckoned Neville over. “Pair?” He asked, and the shy boy nodded.
“Now… you all know each other,” Hatake said. “One by one, introduce your partner to me.”
Murmurs broke out over the class.
“Maa. Don’t talk now,” their professor scolded. “You, there. What’s your partner’s name, best class, and their one biggest weakness.”
“Erm…” The Ravenclaw girl he’d called on shifted nervously. “This is Andy Miller, she’s best at… Potions? And her biggest weakness? Erm, she’s really creative but she can get distracted easily.”
Hatake nodded. “Miller. Your turn.”
Andy swallowed. “This is Rose Allison, her best class is Charms, and she likes Pumpkin Juice too much.”
Hatake systematically went around the class. He didn’t seem to show any response to the introductions, Harry noted, and much sooner than he’d wished, it was his turn.
“This is Neville Longbottom,” Harry began. “His best class is Herbology — he’s brilliant, really — and his biggest weakness…” Neville looked like he might cry. “...is that he’s too kind.”
Hermione gave Harry an approving glance.
“T-this is Harry. He’s best at Defense but he always tries to help everyone.” Neville sat down quickly.
“This is Hermione,” Ron grinned. “She’s best at all classes, really, but Arithmancy is probably her favorite. Her biggest weakness is that she’s always in the library and never gets any sun.”
Hermione smacked him on the arm. “This is Ron. His best class is Charms and his weakness is that he never lets anyone beat him at chess, so no one will play him anymore.”
Harry felt a smile tugging at his lips. Perhaps this class wouldn’t be so bad; not a single student was cruel in pointing out their partner’s ‘weaknesses’, and even when they said something more personal, they would pair it with a compliment.
Hatake gave them a closed-eye smile.
Yes, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
.
Kakashi wanted to fucking die.
First the Hokage gave him an assassination mission. By himself. But then he told Kakashi to wait, under the guise of a teacher of all things.
At least the Hokage hadn’t made him a sensei.
Kakashi was only twenty-two, but that was nearing the end of his life expectancy, and he’d seen more gore than the students in this school could possibly comprehend. Even the genin back in Konoha might not be so oblivious as the students here.
The Ravenclaw-Gryffindor classes did reasonably well in terms of the introduction exercise. The Slytherin-Hufflepuff group, however…
Kakashi was considering murdering whoever decided to pair the damaged assholes with the stupidly loyal.
He was not getting paid enough for this. The threats those students had made…
The Hufflepuffs were vicious.
His younger- and older-years weren’t as bad, but just as the Headmaster had warned him, the fifth-years were the worst group of all.
Each and every one of them was so spoiled and self-centered that it made Kakashi want to rip his hair out.
Instead, he coped by sitting down in the Great Hall, looking the Headmaster straight in the eye, and pulling out his beloved Icha Icha.
(Professor McGonagall looked both scandalised and amused when he let her put a translator spell on it.)
(Dumbledore’s eyes just kept twinkling.)
.
Hatake was turning out to be a surprisingly good teacher.
He was a stern disciplinarian, but he wasn’t cruel or unfair. He taught them quickly and efficiently and let the class solve most of their own problems.
He was also a little shit. Harry personally found it hilarious; Hatake would crack jokes at their expense, could eat fast enough so that none of them ever saw under his mask, and there was a rumor going around that the orange book he always carried was hardcore porn. He was habitually late to his own class.
And Hatake kept a close eye on his students.
He didn’t assign homework; he didn’t need to, because everyone knew the consequences of not studying for his class. (They were subjected to the Look. Somehow, that was worse than the failing grade.)
There was even talk that he managed to contain both the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins in the same room.
They were so lucky to have an actual, proper professor.
.
“Funny,” Hermione said around her toast, hiding her mouth with her hand, “I would have thought that the Ministry would interfere with the staffing decisions this year.”
“As if Dumbledore would ever let that happen,” Ron scoffed.
Yes. It could be so, so much worse.