When the Roses Bloom Again by TheBlack'sResurgence

Chapter 5

The Grand Old Man

Once more, Harry found himself in the room of requirement, his frustration mounting as his efforts to silently cast a stunning spell yielded no results. With the unexpected development of the previous day, he had not taken the chance to question Dippet, or even Dumbledore on the practice.

He wished he had.

After another morning of nothing, he had begun to wonder if he would ever manage it, but he shook his head of the negative thoughts.

For five years he had been taught wand movements and incantations. Switching from such a habitual practice would take more than a couple of days of practice, wouldn't it?

Regardless of his thoughts on the matter, he found himself having made no progress, and it was beginning to grate on him to no end.

Releasing a deep breath, he muttered a stunning spell.

It left the tip of his wand with practiced ease, and he narrowed his eyes.

What was he doing wrong?

Knowing he would find no answers for himself, he gathered his things before draping the cloak over his shoulders and taking his leave of the room.

It would serve him no purpose to continue practicing without having discussed his problem with the headmaster first.

He was due to see him soon enough, though he needed a shower first. As such, he headed back towards Gryffindor Tower to do just that.

He had been here for several days now and had gotten himself into a routine of sorts. Still, he did not feel he belonged here any more than he did the night he arrived.

He missed Ron, Hermione, and Sirius, of course. Despite the threat of Voldemort hanging over him, the losses he had endured and how he had lived, he missed his old life.

He was not so naïve to believe there was a chance he could go back, but he still held on to a little hope.

The previous night, he had laid awake for a while thinking.

He calculated that if he did remain in this timeline, by the time Ron and Hermione arrived at Hogwarts, he would be seventy-one. An old man, one much older than his own parents.

It was an unsettling thought at best, and one he chose not to dwell on.

For what would likely be a permanent thing, this was his life now and he needed to find a way to accept it, something that was much easier said than done.

"Hello, Harry," Minerva greeted him warmly as he entered the common room.

"How's it going?" he replied, offering her a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Coming to terms with his new life was one thing but sharing the tower with his former Professor who was turning out to be nothing he expected was something else entirely.

The young Minerva McGonagall was quite vibrant, enthusiastic about Quidditch, and evidently an exhibitionist when she practiced magic.