She Said What?

Chapter 68: I Return Home Again

A/N: So glad about your reactions to last chapter. Looking back, I itch to edit – and I might in the future – but I'm tickled that you love it still, even when it's...whatever it is. Your feedback is much appreciated.

So all we've got now is two adorable fillers and a big, fat, adorable ending. We can do this, guys. We can totally do this. And I think you can like these fillers for what they are – I do believe that endings are like a wave of water – a big sweep, but made up fundamentally of tiny, itty-bitty things that knit together to bring you the final product in all its massiveness.

So here are your itty-bitty things in the form of two fillers. Let's go!

Cheers.

June 9 Cont.

9:30 PM
Status: Surreal

Well...this was it. Today was my last day at Hogwarts, my last day collapsing on my bed and writing out my thoughts of the past few hours. I'm currently on my bed at home, writing with a pen because I'm too lazy to find my quill, and only now are the small shards of reality starting to hit me.

I'm really, really done. Never going back to Hogwarts as a schoolgirl ever again.

This morning was probably the most emotional morning I've ever had in my life. Honestly. The seventh years packed and dressed quickly (evident in the random socks sticking out of trunks and the bed-heads) in favor of milling around, crying their eyes out and saying good-bye to each other. I think I must've cried myself out, hugging and sobbing and saying that ugly word, good-bye, over and over and over again.

Phone-numbers, addresses, and goodness-knows-what-else was exchanged; friends cuddled to death and reminded each other how much they were loved. I hugged all the prefects – even Michael and Abby – and wished them well with the rest of their two years. Teachers wished us well and got a little teary as we continued to cry like human hosepipes; shrieks of "I'll miss you," "I love you," filled the corridors in a flurry of desperation. Everyone was in disarray, trying to get their things and get outside to the train as fast as possible. Or as slow as possible in the case of us seventh years.

Livvy, who hates good-byes even more than I do, made her rounds quickly and volunteered to save us a compartment on the train. Alice was the worst out of us all, crying until she literally didn't seem to have any more water left in her body for it. When we get down to the damn ugly middle of it, Alice is every ounce as sentimental as I am, and today – with the trunks and the empty dormitories – she broke down completely.

In contrast, the boys were mellow. Peter, happy to leave a school environment, said good-bye with a smile on his face; Remus acted like he was just going away for a summer, not a lifetime (likely a defense mechanism); Sirius bounded around and jumped on people when they weren't expecting him to, in order to leave a lasting impression, even on his last day. He also used Napoleon, trapped in his kitty box, as a weapon of surprise. James was probably the most emotional guy, tearing up a little as he said good-bye to other friends and acquaintances, but he, too, struck me as so composed. I calmed myself by figuring it was because they didn't quite know how final this was just yet.

The seven of us took our time, double-checking trunks and (in the case of we girls) shedding our last tears. But ten fifty came around quickly and the teachers began to herd us outside, forcing us to get on the train so we wouldn't miss it. We ambled out and cried a bit more, saying final-final good-byes on the platform and jumping inside, still shaking from the overflow of emotion.

Honestly, it's the craziest thing. All year, I've anticipated and dreaded and procrastinated this moment, this moment of pure love and emotion for my school, because I didn't want to believe the journey could be over. I came here for the first time as an eleven-year-old girl, young and innocent and earnest and unaware of the change, turmoil, that would engulf me so soon. Now I leave an eighteen-year-old woman and I don't quite know what to think. I'm kind of like that eleven-year-old girl again, as I watch Hogwarts disappear in my train window.