Friendly Competition

[2] Back To Hogwarts

Part of Harry was sorely tempted to take the Hogwarts Express. He didn't actually want to spend hours on a stuffy train with no one he knew and a bunch of gawking children, but the pull of nostalgia was surprisingly intense.

In the end, practicality won out and he Apparated to Hogsmeade from the front step of the ever-dismal Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

He had cleared it out a bit in the past year, since moving back in after his split with Ginny, but it was still admittedly rather forbidding, and would probably always stay that way. Giving Kreacher the run of the place probably hadn't helped, but honestly, Harry didn't think anything would help, so he wasn't sure it mattered.

He made his way down to Hogwarts, not in any particular rush as he strolled around the Black Lake, taking in the grounds of the place that had been his first real home and such an integral part of his life for so long, but which he hadn't seen in over half a decade.

After the war — soon after, for the first few years — he had actively avoided it, excusing himself from any offers to finish his schooling and take his N.E.W.T.s, or from invitations to attend Remembrance Day ceremonies. It was painful; there had been so much loss on these grounds, and he hadn't wanted to be reminded so vividly, to see it all again in person and stand right there with everybody — what should have been everybody — and feel all of those empty places where so many others should be standing.

But...it had been seven years now. It still hurt like mad sometimes, and from time to time the empty places in his life would smack him so painfully sharply that he would wonder how it was he ever managed to put it out of his mind. But he did. Most of the time, the grief had settled down into something lower and deep, something nearly unnoticeable when there weren't any reminders.

Hogwarts was a reminder, though, and it ached. But not as bad as he'd feared it might.

His return here felt bittersweet, filled with so many mixed memories and feelings. In the end, however, it was still his home, even if it was a dusty one with a few ghosts, and even if the both of them had changed a bit in his absence.

It had still been his home and he felt that familiarity, and he was sure he could make it his home once again.

McGonagall was waiting at the doors when he reached them, and she gave him a small smile, and he was happy to see that her eyes looked genuinely pleased to see him. It wasn't that he had expected her not to, but he had caused a lot of trouble for her over the years (though he'd never gotten the impression she actually disliked him — she'd always ultimately been very kind, if stern).

She looked much the same as the last time he'd seen her, though perhaps with a bit more silver shot through her black hair, which was neatly pulled back as always into its severe bun below her hat.

"Professor Potter," she greeted, with a small gleam in her eye. "How lovely to have you back in the castle."

"That's gonna take some getting used to," he blurted out before he could help it, which only made her look more amused, and he suspected that was exactly why she'd done it.

"That's exactly what Professor Malfoy said."

The mention of Malfoy made Harry pause. "Oh, er, yeah. I'm, er... I didn't actually know he would be teaching here until recently."

McGonagall's expression turned stern, and he half expected her to say she would be taking away house points.

"I trust there will be no issues? I would like to see you two behave like grown men instead of the way you carried on whilst you were students here at Hogwarts." She eyed him for another moment. "I had hoped you would be a bit less antagonistic, considering the way you spoke at his trial."