A New Chapter at Hogwarts [Drarry]

Chapter 3: Return to Hogwarts

The familiar silhouette of Hogwarts loomed in the distance, its towers and turrets etched against the deepening hues of the late afternoon sky. The castle stood majestic and unchanging, its ancient stone walls bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. High above, the delicate spires reached towards the heavens, their pointed tips glistening like guardians of an era long past. A gentle breeze stirred the air, rustling through the dense foliage of the Forbidden Forest, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. Across the Black Lake, the still waters rippled, shimmering under the soft rays of sunlight, a mirror reflecting both the sky and the grandeur of the castle's silhouette.

Harry Potter stood at the edge of the path leading up to the castle gates, pausing for a moment as a wave of nostalgia swept over him. Hogwarts had always felt like more than just a school to him. It was a place where friendships had been forged in the crucible of adversity, where laughter and terror often walked hand in hand, where hope had been born even in the darkest of times. And now, after so many years, he was back, not as the wide-eyed boy from Number 4, Privet Drive, but as a man—a professor, no less. The thought felt almost surreal, like stepping into a dream he had never quite imagined for himself. A slow smile crept across his face, tinged with both fondness and a sense of quiet wonder.

The crunch of gravel beneath his boots echoed in the stillness as Harry made his way along the familiar path toward the grand entrance of the castle. With each step, the past and present seemed to blur—memories of late-night escapades under the Invisibility Cloak, hurried footsteps racing through these same grounds to make curfew, and moments of quiet reflection by the lake, looking out at the castle's serene reflection. His heart beat with a mixture of excitement and something else—a kind of uncertainty he hadn't felt in years. Being back at Hogwarts stirred old emotions, both comforting and unsettling. It was strange to return to a place that had been the backdrop of his formative years, now seeing it not as a student but as an adult, an educator.

The life he had led since leaving Hogwarts had been fulfilling in its own way. His work as an Auror had been driven by purpose, by the desire to rid the world of the last remnants of dark magic and dangerous wizards. But it had also been a life of constant vigilance, a relentless pursuit of justice that had left little room for rest. The years in the field had weighed on him more than he realized—the constant battle against forces that sought to undo the fragile peace they had fought so hard to win. It had been exhausting, physically and emotionally, though he had never allowed himself to fully acknowledge it.

When Professor McGonagall had first reached out, offering him the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, Harry had been taken aback. The role, infamous for its revolving door of professors, seemed ill-fitted to him—or so he had thought. He could still remember the conversation, sitting in McGonagall's office as the fire crackled warmly beside him, casting shadows on the ancient walls.

"Professor, I'm not sure I'm the right person for this," Harry had said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've never thought of myself as a teacher. I wouldn't know where to start."

McGonagall had regarded him with that familiar, sharp-eyed look, her square spectacles glinting in the firelight. "Harry, you've spent your life leading by example. You've taught others through your actions, through your courage. You have more practical experience in Defence Against the Dark Arts than any textbook could hope to offer. The students need someone like you."

Harry had hesitated, doubt gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. "I don't know if I'd be any good at it. What if I can't get through to the students? What if—"

"Harry," McGonagall had interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind, "you've always underestimated yourself. You've been teaching others for years, whether you realize it or not. You taught your friends, you led Dumbledore's Army, and you did so with a rare blend of compassion and strength. Those are qualities not every teacher possesses, but they are the very ones that make a great educator. Besides," she added, her lips curving into a rare smile, "the Defence Against the Dark Arts position could certainly use some stability. I have every confidence you could bring that."