Harry Takes a Break

Chapter 3

          The Great Hall was bathed in the soft glow of the enchanted ceiling, reflecting a serene summer sky as students packed away their last meals of the term. At the head of the room, Professor McGonagall stood tall and composed, her face as stern as ever, though there was a note of pride glimmering in her sharp eyes.

"Your attention, please," she called, and the hall fell silent immediately. Even the ghosts drifted closer, their translucent forms watching her with quiet reverence.

McGonagall looked over the sea of students, pausing slightly as her gaze fell upon the Gryffindor table, where Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat side by side, still recovering from the chaos of the past year. She cleared her throat before continuing.

"As we come to the end of another school year-one unlike any other-I want to remind you all of the resilience and bravery you have shown in the face of great adversity." Her voice carried clearly across the hall, resonating with the weight of recent events. "Hogwarts will always be your home, but the time has come for you to return to your families, to heal, to rest, and to rebuild."

There was a ripple of murmurs across the hall, a mixture of anticipation and lingering grief, but McGonagall pressed on.

"For those of you leaving us today, I trust you will carry with you the lessons of this past year. The Dark Lord has fallen, yes, but the world remains in need of courage, kindness, and understanding. Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you back, but now it is time to step into the wider world, armed with the knowledge and strength you have gained here."

She gave a small, tight smile-one that looked almost unnatural on her stern features. "You are dismissed."

A wave of noise filled the hall as benches scraped back, and students hurried to collect their things. Harry stood slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him. It was strange, the thought of leaving Hogwarts, not just for the summer, but after everything that had happened. The castle felt more like home than ever.

"Come on," Hermione said softly, nudging him. "We've got letters to write before we go."

Later, in the relative quiet of Gryffindor Tower, the trio sat clustered around a small wooden table, parchment, quills, and ink spread out before them. It was strange to be back in the familiar common room, knowing this was likely the last time they'd sit there as students. The fire crackled faintly in the hearth, despite the warmth of the late June afternoon, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

"Right," Ron muttered, staring at his blank parchment. "So, how exactly do I tell Mum we're going to the U.S. without her having a complete meltdown?"

"Just be honest," Hermione said briskly, already halfway through her own letter. "Explain that we need time away, a break after everything. I'm sure she'll understand. Eventually."

"Right," Ron grumbled. "Easy for you to say. Your parents didn't just fight in the Battle of Hogwarts."

Hermione paused mid-sentence, her quill hovering above the parchment. "They don't even remember the battle, Ron. But I'll have to tell them... eventually."

"Well," Harry said, pulling a fresh sheet of parchment toward him. "We've got to tell them something. Might as well get it over with."

Ron sighed and began scribbling, his handwriting messier than usual. Harry dipped his quill in the ink and started his own letter to the Dursleys, though he knew they wouldn't care where he went, as long as it didn't involve him staying with them. Still, it felt strange writing to them at all, especially now that he was free of their control.

By the next morning, the trio had gathered their belongings and made their way down to the Hogwarts Express, trunks and all. The platform was bustling with students saying their goodbyes, the usual end-of-term excitement subdued this year by the weight of everything that had happened.

As the scarlet train blew a whistle of steam, signaling its imminent departure, Harry stood for a moment, looking back at the towering silhouette of Hogwarts in the distance. The castle looked more peaceful than it had in months, but it would always be filled with the memories of their last battle.

"Come on," Hermione said gently, tugging at his sleeve. "We'll be back. It's not goodbye forever."

He nodded, though he wasn't so sure. He followed her and Ron onto the train, slipping into an empty compartment toward the back. It was a relief to be away from the crowds, to have a moment of quiet between just the three of them.

The train rattled out of Hogsmeade station, picking up speed as it moved through the countryside. The familiar rhythm of the tracks beneath their feet felt like a comforting lull after the chaos of the past year, but there was still a sense of unease hanging between them.

Ron flopped into the seat across from Harry and Hermione, stretching his legs out with a groan. "So," he said, rubbing his face, "Muggle London, eh? How exactly are we supposed to get around there? Don't they have like a million ways to get lost?"

"We've been to London before," Hermione pointed out, pulling out a map of the city from her bag. "We just need to blend in, keep our heads down. There are trains, buses, the Underground. We'll be fine."

Ron groaned. "Buses and subways again? Brilliant."

Harry smiled slightly. "Could be worse, Ron. We could be flying in one of those Muggle airplanes already."

"Don't even joke about that, mate," Ron muttered darkly.

The conversation trailed off into a companionable silence as the train carried them closer and closer to King's Cross. Harry leaned his head back against the cool glass of the window, watching the familiar rolling hills and countryside pass by. Despite the looming trip ahead, the uncertainty of what they were about to do, a part of him felt lighter. For the first time in a long while, they were heading into the unknown not for battle, but for something resembling an adventure.

As the train began to slow, the rooftops of London creeping into view, Hermione spoke up again, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Do you think we'll be able to really get away from everything? From... from everything that's happened?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. He wasn't sure what to say. Could they really leave it all behind? The loss, the pain, the weight of being the Boy Who Lived?

"I don't know," he said finally. "But we've got to try."

The train pulled into King's Cross Station with a final, drawn-out hiss of steam. Harry stood and grabbed his trunk, feeling the cool metal handle beneath his hand. The trio stepped off the train and onto the platform, the busy chaos of Muggle London stretching out before them. Their journey had only just begun.

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