Harry closed his eyes and prepared himself for the uncomfortable sensation that meant he had apparated. Opening them again, he saw the familiar winged boars and iron gates that guarded the entrance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry “ his first real home and the only place he had thought of coming to. The castle looked suddenly sinister, looming over him, shadowing its grounds from the moon “ Harry took a shaky breath.
It was a year since he had last been here, but he had always known that he would come back, at least for a day, to say goodbye; and although he knew he would be safe inside the castle walls, it was with a heavy heart that he produced his wand and began to perform the intricate spellwork that he had been taught in order to get through the gates. After several minutes the gates swung open, and he dashed through before they could lock themselves again. Soon, he was standing before the great oak doors, wand still in hand, trying to work up the courage to push them open and step inside. Another world lived inside: a world hidden from the reality of darkness, from the real pain, from his, Harry’s, life, as it had been for the last year, and perhaps always would be from now on. Inside this building lived Harry’s past.
With a great effort, he pushed open the tall doors and entered into the pool of candlelight that made up the Entrance Hall. A deep echo rang around the vast room as the doors swung shut behind him and he was left alone on the other side. His heart pounding, his feet took him to the marble staircase and began to climb, his past slowly creeping in through his skin and filling him up with a feeling of nostalgia that formed in his throat as a lump. In a daze, his legs kept moving until he reached the seventh floor, where he stopped at the foot of a portrait.
“No …” whispered the Fat Lady in the painting, when she looked up from her dozing, “is it … is it really …?”
Harry, realising he had no idea what the password was, simply nodded.
“Do you have the password?” she asked, still staring at him.
Harry shook his head. A moment of silence.
“Conjure a Patronus.”
Harry looked up at the Fat Lady and saw her eyes fixed on him.
“Sorry?” he asked.
“Then I’ll know it’s really you.”
Harry sighed heavily. A Patronus, now? It should have been easy, but somehow the horrors of the last year still overpowered the victories; even the last one “
His hand went to his forehead and his fingers pressed the scar, which had felt somehow different for the past few hours, ever since … it was as though the power had been drained out of it. He gripped his wand more tightly, and, trying desperately to imagine the future, yelled out the incantation.
“Expecto Patronum!”
A spectacularly dazzling stag bounded out into the corridor and galloped away for a few seconds, before returning to Harry, who looked into its silver eyes for a moment, then dropped his wand to his side. The animal disappeared and Harry’s gaze moved back to the old lady’s face.
She smiled.
“Go on, then,” she said softly.
The portrait swung forwards and Harry climbed through the hole, remembering his school-years and feeling suddenly older. As he stepped out into the circular room, a tide of emotion crashed down on him, causing him to stifle a gasp in the silence of the night. The room was bathed in candlelight and a glowing warmth came from the embers in the grate, and, although all the Gryffindors were in bed, Harry felt the weight of loneliness, which he had been carrying around for too long now, lift from his mind and body and let the comfort of familiarity replace it.
Knowing he shouldn’t be there but dreading turning back, he took one last look around the room. As he was about to leave, he glanced over to the girls’ staircase, as if expecting to see someone there, but their absence told him to clamber back through the portrait hole.
Soon he found himself standing beside the two gargoyles outside the Headteacher’s Office. He jumped slightly when they leaped aside with no password, and mounted the staircase up to the office. There was no sound coming from behind the door when he reached it, but Harry lifted his hand and knocked twice, feeling certain that he could not be let down, not now.
Sure enough, a moment later the door opened, and there stood Professor McGonagall in a tartan nightgown and woolly red slippers. At first, Harry thought she might faint, but he knew she was stronger than that. They stared at each other for what must have been a whole minute, before she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.
“You’re back,” she said quickly.
Harry nodded, finding his throat oddly restricted, and passed her as she stood aside. McGonagall shut the door behind him and crossed the room to her desk, sitting down in the high-backed chair and interlocking her fingers as if she was about to pray, then raising her hands and resting her chin on them.
“Sit down, Potter,” she murmured.
Harry sat down in the seat opposite her and looked her in the eye.
“Well?” she asked.
Harry held her gaze.
“It’s over,” he said. “It’s … over.”
It was only as he spoke these words that the meaning of them really dawned on him for the first time that day. It really was over. Voldemort was gone. The world was free. He, Harry, was free, for the first time in his life.
“You mean “?”
“Yes,” said Harry.
His old teacher looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, but then “ a smile. A very faint, glimmer of hope. Then, as if she’d been planning it for a long time, she stood up, walked over to Harry and held out her hand. Unsure, he stood, too, and took it. She shook firmly, still smiling at Harry.
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered.
“Neither do I,” he replied.
“Have you told anyone?” she asked, dropping his hand and clasping her own two together.
Harry shook his head.
“I came straight here.”
McGonagall’s face dropped a little.
“How … how did you …?”
Harry knew what she was trying to ask, but had no idea where to begin. It seemed all too vivid and like a terrible blur at the same time. He couldn’t do this now, he couldn’t go back there, he didn’t want to have to remember what had been and why.
“It’s over,” he repeated.
McGonagall looked in his eyes and nodded.
“I have many things to do, in that case,” she said, her voice beginning to return to its usual briskness. “You should get some sleep.”
Harry, whose body was aching for rest but whose mind was far from it, began towards the door.
“Where shall I go?” he asked, realising his bed in Gryffindor Tower may not be available any longer, given his absence.
“To your dormitory, of course,” said McGonagall, and Harry thought he saw that smile creeping back onto her face. “We hadn’t given up on you quite yet, Potter.”
Harry nodded, more in gratitude than assent, and put his hand to the door knob to leave the room.
“Harry,” said McGonagall, and he swivelled round, slightly startled at the use of his first name, “I don’t know how you did it, and I also know that this doesn’t even begin to warrant a true congratulations, but … well done.”
Harry worked his face into a smile and left the office. As much as he wanted to feel proud for what he had done, the fact that he had just murdered another human being “ however little there was of that left in Voldemort “ would always be on his mind.
He made his way back to the Common Room and up to the boys’ dormitories. It was with the greatest sense of relief that he saw the four other boys in their beds, fast asleep and unaware of the great change to the world that had occurred that very day. Harry glanced over at Ron and was reassured by his steady breathing that he was enjoying a much more peaceful sleep than he had managed during his time with Harry whilst they were tracking down the Horcruxes. Harry was just thankful that he had gone on to do the final task alone; it was better that only he had to live with that.
He climbed into his bed, revelling in the warmth and comfort of the plush covers and soft mattress after a year of sleeping wherever he happened to be. Tomorrow was tomorrow. Now all he had to do was sleep. He had come home.
“HARRY!”
Harry raised a hand to rub his eyes whilst the other reached out to grab his glasses from beside the bed.
“YOU’RE BACK!”
Through his blurry vision, Harry made out the tall figure of Ron standing next to his bed, hardly seeming able to keep still.
“I “ I have to go and get Hermione!” he cried, and he bounded out of the dormitory without another word.
Harry sat up in bed and leaned back against the wooden headboard. He could hardly believe quite how well he had slept, considering the circumstances, but did not have time to dwell on it as a moment later, Ron re-entered the room, followed by a beaming Hermione.
“Oh my!” she gasped. “You really are back!”
“Well I wasn’t going to lie, Hermione,” said Ron, sounding dejected but still grinning.
Hermione strode over to Harry’s bed and hugged him tightly, then leaned back, looked at him, and hugged him again.
“Easy there, Hermione,” muttered Harry, rubbing his ribs.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” she said, looking at him nervously. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” said Harry quickly, “I’m fine.”
They all stared at each other for a few moments, then Hermione’s face broke into a wide smile.
“Ginny’s going to be so excited when she hears you’re back!” she told him, taking his hand and squeezing it slightly.
Harry’s insides lurched a little and he found himself looking away from his friends and gazing down at his fingers, which had started to twist his sheets into knots.
“What?” said Ron gruffly. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break up with her after she’s waited a whole year for you.”
“No!” said Harry, looking up at Ron. “It’s just …”
He fell silent again.
“Harry?” asked Hermione quietly.
“It’s just … do you think she still wants me? I mean we haven’t even been able to owl each other this past year, and I’m not exactly going to have the easiest life from now on and, you know, what if she’s changed her mind?”
After a second’s silence, Ron and Hermione both burst out laughing.
“Changed her mind?” said Hermione in a strained voice when she saw Harry frowning at them. “Harry, I don’t think you quite realise just how devoted Ginny is to you. Ever since we got back she hasn’t stopped asking about you: how you were when we left, exactly what happened when we were with you, were you hurt, were you scared, was there any chance that you might send an owl … I could go on.”
Harry, who had been worried that it might be too weird between Ginny and him after such a long time apart, was suddenly given a new lease of hope from these words, and jumped out of bed.
“Sorry, I have to get dressed,” he muttered, as he pulled on a pair of jeans. “Do you have any idea “?”
He was cut off as the dormitory door swung open enthusiastically and a large group of people piled in.
“Oh, sorry, Harry,” said Neville, who was at the front of the crowd looking rather pink in the face. “We heard you were back and wanted to hear about “”
He stopped talking abruptly and his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson.
“Did you kill You-Know-Who?” yelled a boy Harry hardly even recognised from the back of the group.
Harry, who had quickly pulled on a shirt when the group had come in, froze under their glare. Some of his closer friends were now looking embarrassed and trying to edge back towards the door, but several faces still stared at him intently, as though expecting a straightforward answer.
“I didn’t “ you can’t “” started Harry, but he couldn’t think of the words to say what he was thinking.
He glanced at Hermione, who was looking as though she might hex the lot of them as they waited there gawmlessly.
“I think you should all go,” she said, her jaw clenched.
The people in the doorway began to leave the room, a few of them grunting some mumbled words of apology as they went.
“Sorry,” said Neville, who was the last to leave. “I heard from Parvati that you were back, Harry, and I was going to come up on my own, but then everyone else found out and …”
“Don’t worry about it, Neville,” said Harry, grateful for his genuine apology.
“Yeah,” agreed Ron, “it’s not your fault, it’s all those other idiots.”
Neville smiled timidly and went out.
Hermione moved over to Ron and put her arm around his back, leaning her head on his shoulder. That’s one couple that’s made it through this year, then, thought Harry.
“I suppose you two want to know what happened yesterday aswell, don’t you?” he asked them.
“Of course we do,” said Hermione, “but you’re not going to tell us until you’re ready so we weren’t going to ask, actually.”
Harry nodded.
“Thanks,” he said. “It’s really good to see you both. It felt so …”
He stopped, realising that this was the sort of thing that he usually thought, rather than said, but he knew he couldn’t stop now.
“… so lonely, without you there beside me.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Harry,” said Hermione softly, and she reached forward with her free arm and took his hand. “We were lonely without you, aswell.”
“Not quite the same thing, Hermione,” said Ron, smirking at Harry.
They went down to the Common Room, where a lot of people were still lingering, apparently waiting for Harry to come down.
“Shouldn’t you lot be in lessons by now?” called Ron, as some excited third-years began to descend on them.
Harry had completely forgotten that it was a week day, and that lessons would be scheduled as normal. As the crowd of Gryffindors began to disperse, he noticed that every other one was clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet, and would occasionally glance down at it then look back at Harry with open mouths and wide eyes.
“I wonder if my life will ever be normal,” he muttered to Ron and Hermione.
“Sorry, Harry, but I’m afraid we have lessons now, too,” said Hermione apologetically.
“Why don’t we just skip it, Hermione?” moaned Ron. “It’s only Potions.”
Hermione gave Ron a beseeching look.
“Um, well, it’s just “”
“It’s fine,” said Harry, saving her the excuse. “Seriously, just go.”
“Are you sure?” asked Ron, looking as if Harry might be just the excuse he needed to get out of double Potions.
“I’ll be fine,” repeated Harry. “I’ll see you later.”
Ron nodded and led an anxious-looking Hermione out of the portrait hole.
Harry looked around at the empty room and wondered what he should do now that he had time on his hands for the first time in a year. He supposed that he could join Ron and Hermione for Potions, but then realised that it would mean more staring, whispering and general attention from his classmates, and quickly decided against it. Hoping that he might find some inspiration as to how to pass the time, he went out into the corridor and started to wander through the hallways.
As he walked, Harry began to consider the possibility that Ginny might have a free period now, being a sixth year, and decided to make his way towards the library. He passed a few other students on his way, both of which had their heads down in a newspaper as they went by and didn’t even look up at him. Harry started to form ideas in his head of the kind of story that a Rita Skeeter-like journalist might have come up with from the little information they had gained about the events of the day before: the theories, the claims, the sensationalism into something trivial of some world-changing event. It was only when he heard a rustling noise as he stepped on a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet that he was able to see for himself what all the fuss was about. He flattened out the front page to see a picture of himself from a few years ago looking back at him furtively.
‘YOU-KNOW-WHO DEFEATED?’ read the headline.
‘The wizarding world is waiting with bated breath to hear confirmation from Ministry officials of the final duel that is thought to have happened yesterday between He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his long-standing number-one enemy, Harry Potter. Speculation predicts that, after months of searching for the Dark Lord, the Boy Who Lived was finally able to finish him off in a ruthless and bloody battle last night, which Potter will have been training for since before the late Albus Dumbledore passed away last year. This show-down “ if true as expected “ will mean the fall of You-Know-Who’s followers and will certainly make Harry Potter even more of a hero than he already is.’
Great, thought Harry, that’s just what I need “ more reason for the entire wizarding world to become Colin Creevey.
He kept walking, looking into a few classrooms as he went by, until “
He stopped abruptly outside a Charms classroom on the fourth floor. Looking in through the window in the door, he could see a few rows of the class inside, watching their teacher, who was out of sight, with glassy eyes. But Harry’s attention rested on the far side of the room. There, gazing out of the window, was Ginny, her red hair shining in the sunlight that was pouring over her and seemed to worship her and only her. Her dark, brown eyes were focused somewhere far away and she was deep in thought, or so it seemed, about something that others were not aware of, or could not fathom, or would try but fail to understand. Harry stared for what felt like hours, lost in the same far away place as the girl he was watching, until someone at the front of the class called her attention, apparently, and both she and Harry came back to the present with a bump.
Realising that any one of the students could look up at him and see him standing there, Harry moved away from the door. He didn’t want Ginny’s first impression of him after a year apart to be of a gawping idiot, nor was he quite sure yet just what he might say to her.
After a number of hours spent wandering aimlessly around the castle and its grounds, Harry finally realised that he was starving hungry, and habitually followed the comforting smell of hot food to the Great Hall. He was glad to find Ron and Hermione waiting in the Entrance Hall when he got there, but less so to feel dozens of eyes staring at him as they entered the Hall. It was almost packed, as it usually was around lunchtime, and they had a hard time battling through the hoards of people to get to the Gryffindor table. Harry was just about to take his seat when something stopped him. A mane of red hair flashed as its owner spun round at the other end of the table, and he saw Ginny’s face for the second time in all those long months. His eyes fixed on her as they had done before, and he suddenly became unaware of the people nearby, staring or shouting out at him. After a few moments, Ginny looked up from her conversation, as if pulled from it by his gaze, and their eyes locked on each other. She froze and her mouth dropped open, then she began to push purposefully through the groups of people in her way to get to the place where Harry was standing, still glued to the spot.
Happily oblivious to the hundred eyes on him, Harry smiled in ecstatic disbelief as she stopped in front of him and immediately flung her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly to her as his own arms wound around her waist.
“You’re back, you’re back,” she whispered in his ear as their bodies remained pressed together.
A glorious minute passed before she leaned back and looked him in the face again, resting her forehead on his. It was in that moment that the full weight of how much he had missed her hit him in its entirety. He was back, and he was never leaving again.
“Want to find some privacy?” asked Harry, not looking away from her for a second but aware of how many people were watching them.
“Weren’t you just about to have lunch?” replied Ginny, smirking at him.
Harry shook his head distractedly and led her out of the Great Hall, fighting his way through people who were reluctant to let them pass, and strode through the great, open doors into the castle grounds. At some point he had slid his hand into hers, and her touch reminded him of how much he was looking forward to them being alone, away from the hiss of gossip and the prying eyes.
They walked together in contented silence until they got to the bank of the lake, where they went down the slope to the very edge of the water and sat down. As the side of Ginny’s body shuffled next to his, Harry felt his stomach lurch a little as he realised that soon he would have to speak.
“Ginny, about the Prophet “” he started, but she cut him off.
“Harry, you don’t have to do this now,” she murmured in his ear. “Tell me another time, when it’s less … recent.”
Harry nodded and looked down at his hands.
“And anyway,” she continued, “I’d hate for you to ruin the moment by getting all serious on me.”
Harry looked up at her and she smiled, then leant back so she was propped up on her elbows, looking out at the lake. Harry watched her, grateful for the chance for them to at least get back to some kind of normality before he had to explain all that there was to explain. After a moment, her eyes flicked up to meet his.
“Go on, then,” she muttered.
“What?” asked Harry, unsure of what she meant.
“If there’s only one way for us to return to where we were, just do it.”
It suddenly became completely clear to Harry what Ginny was talking about, and he leant down and kissed her. They didn’t break apart until her head touched the long grass, and even then Harry was reluctant to pull away. The soft affection that Ginny was able to give him felt like the huge part of him that had been missing since last summer, and he was set on making up the time that they had lost.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered through her hair.
“Likewise,” she murmured, kissing him behind the ear.
She pushed him onto his back and laid her head on his chest, her hand sliding over his stomach to his waist. Harry felt goosebumps run down his side as her hand slipped under his untucked shirt and rested on his bare skin, gently stroking it with her thumb.
“Can you believe it’s only been a year?” she said, as the fingers of the arm Harry had around her played with the long hair at the back of her head. “It feels like a lifetime since we were dancing under the stars in France.”
“It certainly does,” replied Harry.
They lay in silence for a long while, looking up at the clear blue sky, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Ginny spoke.
“Harry?” she murmured.
“Mm?”
There was a short pause.
“Never leave me again.”
Harry ran a hand through her hair.
“I won’t.”