Second Chances~ Harry Potter

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A week passed, filled with Harry, Mrs. Winter and Ellie working in the Ice Cream shop, eating dinner and basically, living together. Harry, the troubled boy, was beginning to actually feel at home among the two Muggles. Ellie still saw Harry as a tad bit sketchy since he usually kept to himself, but, with time, all things can change.

One evening after dinner, Harry sat up in his room, on his bed. He had placed his trunk across the room, yet he kept one thing close to him at all times: his wand. He glanced at the door, making sure it was closed tightly. Down the hall he could hear the shower running and music playing.

"Lumos." He whispered in his dark room. The small, round orb of light appeared at the end of his wand, just as it had a thousand times before.

"Seems you haven't lost your your touch." A voice said from across the room. Harry shouted loudly and fell to the floor. The light switched on to reveal an aged, smirking witch.

"Professor." Harry exclaimed as he pulled himself to his feet. "How did you know I was here?" He asked with a frown.

"Mr. Potter, I have a knack for locating my students."

"I'm not a student anymore." Harry pointed out.

"Maybe I just like you then." McGonogall shrugged and sat on a the edge of the bed.

"I doubt that, professor." Harry rolled his eyes and pocketed his wand.

"Alright." She said and crossed her legs. "Doubt if you feel the need to doubt, but I sincerely wanted to check on you."

Harry arched a questioning eyebrow.

"Harry, dear." McGonogall said kindly. "Just because You-Know..." She stopped herself. "Voldemort... is dead, doesn't mean you can leave the country without informing people."

"I'm seventeen." Harry pointed out. "Legal Wizarding age."

"Yes, but not legal Muggle age." McGonogall retorted. "How is this woman even permitting you to live here?"

"She is under the impression that I'm eighteen." Harry shrugged and began fiddling with the dresser.

"Ah, deception isn't good Harry." McGonogall scolded lightly. "Remember that."

"Of course."

"Well," McGonogall rose. "I expect to see you back in Hogwarts on September first to finish your final year."

"I'm not going back, Professor." Harry shook his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. "I can't."

"Why not?" She asked as if his declination was a shock to her.

"I can't go back there. There's too much there to remember; too many hurtful things. The entirety of that bloody country is filled with painful memories." Harry's voice caught painfully; it was all rushing back to him. McGonogall stared at him with a befuddled look on her face.

"You are coming home, aren't you Mr. Potter?" McGonogall asked quietly, looking at him sadly.

"I'm really not sure." Harry admitted. "Back at the Burrow, I felt like I couldn't breath."

"That's reasonable." McGonogall laughed lightly. "It was filled with people."

Harry glared at her for a moment. "You know what I mean." He said, earning a sigh from the old woman. "I had a this huge weight on my chest that only got heavier anytime I saw someone whose life I ruined."

"Harry-"

"I haven't hurt anyone here, Professor." Harry continued. "I haven't ruined lives or gotten people killed." His eyes were watery and sad as he spoke.