The Story of Draco and Harry: A Marauder's Tale

The Return to Hogwarts

'The story starts aeons ago-'

'James.'

'Alright, alright! I'll try to do this Siriously '

'Pft- Good one Prongs!'

'Cheers Padfoot. Anyways, the story actually started some seven years ago, but you all already know of the fate, the destiny, the-'

'James.'

'Right- Ahem, you must already know of how these two young boys met, that fateful day inside Madam Malkin's getting their Hogwarts robes fitted. Of how the second ever wizard the famous Harry Potter, yes my son, my bloody amazi-'

'James!'

'Yes, well, as I was saying – before I was rudely interrupted, Lily – this boy was the second wizard Harry Potter had ever talked to. The boy ended up squashing any chance he had of being Harry's friend by insulting Harry's only friend; which, if you ask me, is a weird and questionable friendship. But who am I to judge, right? Anyway, thus began the torturous bullying that weighed a bit too close to flirting. Quite frankly, despite loving my son unconditionally, I cannot fathom why Harry even bothered giving the boy so much of his attention because now he's gone and mucked it all up by getting a sodding crush on the git.'

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Body's rocked and swayed as the carriages pulled by thestrals carried returning students up the path towards the rebuilt castle. The air had erupted with gasps and cries of shock and horror. Many of the students had never laid eyes upon the thestrals in the past until after the war. What was the most disheartening was the smattering of gasps from the first years, as they passed on their ways to the boats that would transport them to the castle. They did not deserve to know or see such horrors that would grant them the ability to see the horrifying beauty that were such creatures.

Instead of getting caught up in the whispering of the younger years and the awed looks thrown his way, Harry had distracted himself by keeping his focus on Ron and Hermione. They sat in front of him, their hands clasped together in a tight grip, both of their knuckles turned pale from pressure. Harry knew, they did not have to say anything, but he knew that this was difficult for them too. At least Hermione seemed to be able to make sense of this whole mess of their, to Ron and Harry's collective opinion, unnecessary return. She had gotten through to Harry during the summer holidays, however she was having a lot more difficulty with Ron. Where he was insistent that he had a place in the Auror's waiting for him, and that returning to Hogwarts would be a waste of time where he could be building up experience on the field instead, Hermione was insistent that he would be able to learn and revise topics that being an Auror would not provide experience for. Harry could listen for hours, days, weeks, months, or even years, to the two of them bickering and being, well, them . It calmed him like no calming drought could, relaxed him and took the edge off of those harder days.

The war had not been easy on any of them.

Despite having the entire summer to rack his brain around what was being asked of them from their Professor – Headmaster , Harry was still getting used to the change - Harry still hadn't come to terms with the fact that they were back to retake the year they'd missed fighting the war. He thought after all that he'd gone through he wouldn't be expected to study school curriculum at eighteen. And although he saw no point, and that returning would set him back from being able to experience the world as a normal young adult, with no impending doom looming over him, he was determined to actually study. He had a sense of misplaced pride in him that said he had to prove himself worthy academically instead of being given everything on a silver platter, just because of who he was and what he did for the wizarding world.