I pushed open the great oak doors and was met by the familiar warmth of the Great Hall.
The ceiling glittered with stars, floating candles glowed above, and long tables were already filled with students chattering over plates and goblets.
"Harry!"
I barely had time to scan the Gryffindor table before Ron half stood, waving his arms like a windmill.
Hermione tugged at his sleeve, but the relief in her face was unmistakable.
Fred and George were craning their necks too, and Dean and Seamus waved from further down.
I walked over quickly, ignoring the curious stares from nearby students.
Sliding into the bench between Ron and Hermione, I braced myself.
"Where were you?" Hermione demanded at once, her voice rising above the general din. "We were on the train, waiting, and you never came! Do you have any idea how worried we were?"
Ron added, more quietly but with a frown, "Yeah, mate. You just vanished. No owl, no nothing."
I grinned, partly to reassure them, partly to buy a second to think. "About that… the barrier at King's Cross decided it didn't like me and Sirius. Wouldn't let us through."
"What?" Hermione gasped, her eyes huge. "The barrier—blocked you? That's dangerous, Harry, you could have—"
"Relax," I cut in, keeping my tone light. "We sent Hedwig to Dumbledore, he sorted it. Floo to Hogsmeade, easy as pie."
"Easy for you," Ron muttered. "We were pacing the carriage thinking you'd been kidnapped or something."
I clapped his shoulder. "Kidnapped? Please. If anyone tried, Sirius would've hexed them into next week. Besides, I'd have boxed their ears first."
That got a snort out of Seamus. "Reckon he's serious," he said, and Dean groaned at the pun.
Fred leaned in across the table, grinning. "Next time, Potter, send a memo. Nearly gave our darling mother a heart attack when you didn't appear on the platform."
"Didn't want to waste ink," I shot back. "Besides, keeps life exciting, doesn't it?"
George waggled his brows. "Exciting, he says, while Hermione's about to explode."
Hermione flushed pink but crossed her arms, glaring at me. "You should've told us sooner."
"Sorry," I said honestly. "Didn't want you to worry."
"You failed spectacularly," she replied, but her lips twitched as though she was fighting a smile.
Before I could respond, the doors swung wide again and Professor McGonagall entered, followed by a nervous line of first years.
The Sorting Hat was waiting on its stool.
I turned with the rest, watching as names were called, cheers rising each time a new Gryffindor joined our table. Then came a familiar name:
"Weasley, Ginevra."
Ginny stepped forward, pale but determined, and the Hat barely touched her head before shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The table erupted. Ron whooped so loudly Hermione winced.
I leaned over to make room as she slid into the bench near us, her face pinker than her red hair.
"Congratulations," I said, grinning. "Now you've got the best common room. First tip: don't let the twins talk you into 'harmless' experiments. Second tip: enjoy flying lessons, you'll love them."
She blinked at me, then nodded quickly, her blush deepening.
A few more students were sorted, then:
"Lovegood, Luna."
A blonde girl with radish earrings drifted forward, dreamy eyed. The Hat considered her for longer, then declared, "RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table cheered, and Luna wandered to her new seat, serene as if she'd expected it.
I caught her eye across the hall and gave a small wave.
She waved back vaguely, like it didn't matter whether it was to me or the candles above.
Baby shark energy.
When the last name was called and Dumbledore gave his welcoming speech, the food appeared.
The table filled with roast chicken, potatoes, and every dish I'd been craving since breakfast.
Ron leaned across the table, grinning as he shoved a bread roll into his mouth. "You should've seen Percy this summer, mate. Fred and George kept trying to hex his prefect badge. Nearly had it flashing 'Prat of the Year' before Mum caught them."
I snorted. "That's an improvement, honestly."
Hermione rolled her eyes, though I could see the corner of her mouth twitching. "You lot are incorrigible. Poor Percy—"
"Poor Percy?" Ron gaped. "Hermione, he walks around like the Minister's going to pin a medal on him for polishing his shoes! He needs bringing down a peg."
"Two pegs," I added, earning chuckles from the twins further down.
Dean Thomas piped up, eager to steer the conversation. "Anyway, forget Percy. This is West Ham's year. Mark my words—new striker's unstoppable. We'll be climbing the table."
Seamus let out a bark of laughter. "West Ham? They'll be lucky not to get relegated."
Dean bristled. "Shows what you know, Finnigan. Muggle football's about skill, not luck."
Seamus waved his wand at the saltcellar in mock frustration. "Oh yeah? Well at least my team doesn't need a miracle every season." A puff of sparks shot from his wand tip, and the saltcellar trembled, smoking ominously.
"Seamus!" Hermione cried, snatching it up before it could combust. "Do you ever practice wand safety?"
Ron elbowed me, lowering his voice. "He nearly blew up his mum's kettle last week. We had tea that tasted like soot for days."
I chuckled outright at that, leaning back and just soaking in the chaos around me.
Hermione, of course, had bought extra books in Diagon Alley and was already quoting from them, rattling off obscure passages about "elemental theories of Transfiguration" as though it were dessert.
I grinned. "You're smuggling a whole library in that trunk, aren't you? You'll open it one day and find it's bigger on the inside."
Her cheeks flushed pink as she huffed, trying to look indignant, but the effect was ruined when Ron and the twins burst out laughing.
Fred even leaned across the table and said, "Careful, Harry, or she'll start charging late fees."
Halfway through the meal, I glanced down the hall and caught the eyes of a few Hufflepuffs.
Justin Finch-Fletchley grinned and gave me a cheerful wave, nearly knocking over his pumpkin juice in the process.
Beside him, Cedric Diggory raised his goblet in greeting, the easy confidence of a Quidditch captain already written all over him.
I waved back, and Cedric's smile widened before he turned back to his tablemates.
Further down, a small knot of Slytherins sat together, all sharp lines and guarded looks.
To my mild surprise, Blaise Zabini met my eyes and gave the barest tilt of his chin.
Theodore Nott followed suit with a curt nod, reserved but deliberate.
And just past them, Daphne Greengrass gave me a cool, assessing glance before inclining her head with faint politeness.
I returned each gesture with the same quiet acknowledgement, bridges, even if only made of threads, were still worth weaving.
By the time dessert vanished, my sides ached from laughing.
Ron had gone red in the face retelling how Ginny had once hexed using Percy wand the twins when they nicked her diary.
"She didn't even warn us!" Ron wheezed, pounding the table. "One second Fred was waving the diary around, the next he's squealing like a banshee because it's biting him."
Fred threw his arm around George, both of them pretending to look wounded.
"In our defense," Fred said solemnly.
"We only wanted to improve her handwriting," George finished.
That set the table off again, even Hermione, though she quickly masked it with a sniff.
"It was still completely inappropriate use of a jinx," she muttered. "Honestly, hexing family members—"
"—is a time honored Weasley tradition," Fred cut in.
George winked at me. "Harry, you're practically family now, so you might want to sleep with one eye open."
Hermione huffed, cheeks pink, and buried herself in her goblet.
-----------------------------------------
By the time we finally retreated to the common room, the party atmosphere followed.
The fireplace roared, the armchairs were stolen in a blink, and everyone else plonked themselves on cushions, steps, or the floor.
Ron dragged out the wizard chess set, and the pieces immediately started bellowing.
"Not him again!" Ron's knight groaned, pointing at me with his sword.
"Oi, shut it," Ron snapped, already setting up the board. "C'mon, Harry, sit watch me destroy Dean."
Dean puffed out his chest. "You wish, Weasley. I've been training."
"Training?" Seamus snorted. "You lost to a pawn last week."
Before I could even choose a side, Dean and Seamus ganged up and hauled me between them.
"No, no, Potter's on commentary duty," Seamus declared.
"Yeah," Dean added, grinning. "You've got the voice for it make it dramatic."
I raised an eyebrow. "Dramatic commentary, is it? Fine." I cleared my throat and projected my voice like Lee Jordan. "Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, welcome to the event of the century: Ron 'The Ginger General' Weasley versus Dean 'Can't-Remember-Which-Piece-Is-Which' Thomas."
The twins howled. Dean gave me a shove, laughing.
"You'll eat those words, Potter."
"Careful," Ron said smugly, moving a pawn. "You're about to witness a master at work."
Wait, that sounds familiar.
His pawn got flattened in two moves.
"Oh, brilliant strategy!" I declared, clutching my chest. "Sacrificing the pawn early to lull his opponent into a false sense of competence pure genius!"
Fred and George toppled off the sofa, roaring.
Dean pumped his fist. "You hear that? Genius!"
"Yeah," Seamus said, grinning wickedly, "genius at losing."
The game lasted another twenty minutes, and Ron somehow scraped out a victory by accident.
He was insufferable for all of three minutes before we dragged out the Exploding Snap deck.
One particularly vicious round ended with smoke curling into the rafters and Ron coughing, eyebrows singed to stubble.
"Do I look… alright?" he asked nervously.
"Like a noble phoenix rising from the ashes," I said with mock solemnity.
"Like burnt toast," Dean corrected, waving his hand in front of his nose.
Hermione crossed her arms, trying to glare, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
"You lot are going to set this tower on fire before Christmas," she scolded. "Honestly, Professor McGonagall—"
"—isn't here," George said cheerfully, dealing another card.
"Relax, Hermione," Fred added. "If it burns down, Harry can just rebuild it with his mystical Chosen One powers."
That got a round of laughter, though Hermione rolled her eyes.
And then, inevitably, the twins unearthed a battered set of enchanted bagpipes from Merlin knows where.
Fred blew a note so sour it made the fire sputter. George struck up a rhythm with a spoon and a butterbeer bottle, and before long, they were improvising a song about the new first years.
"Oh, little Colin Creevey, with your camera so bright,
If you blind us again, we'll hex you all night—"
The common room roared, Colin himself turning beet red but grinning anyway.
Lavender and Parvati clapped along, stomping their feet, while the younger years shrieked with laughter.
Soon the whole room was chanting, clapping, stamping in rhythm. Even Hermione gave up her protests, laughing as she was pulled into the clapping beat.
My hands stung, my throat ached from laughing, and for the first time since the summer, Hogwarts felt like home again.
-----------------------------------------
By the time the noise finally started to fade, my throat hurt from laughing and my cheeks ached from grinning.
One by one people drifted toward the staircases, still buzzing, still tossing jokes over their shoulders.
Fred and George carried the bagpipes up the stairs like war trophies, Ron staggered off with his chessboard tucked under his arm, and Hermione gave me a fond but exasperated look before disappearing up the girls' staircase.
Dean clapped me on the back hard enough to jolt my teeth.
"Good to have you back, Harry. Didn't feel the same without you on the train."
"Oi, he's ours, not yours," Ron grumbled from halfway up the steps.
I laughed. "Relax, Ron. I'm not transferring to Slytherin."
When the common room finally emptied, I trudged up to the second years' dormitory.
Our room was already lit by a few flickering candles. Ron was snoring lightly, sprawled diagonally across his mattress, one sock hanging off his toes.
Seamus and Dean were whispering about Quidditch schedules from their beds, voices fading as sleep tugged them under.
I sat on my own bed, pulling the hangings halfway closed.
The laughter still echoed faintly in my ears, but now there was space to breathe, to think.
It struck me how different I felt.
Last year I'd been the wide eyed first year, grinding every spell, making jokes decades later laughing at other watching me looking confused.
And beneath the laughter, the warmth, there was that new thrum inside me.
Power, alive under my skin. It hummed in the back of my thoughts even as my body sagged with tiredness.
I'd masked it, kept the edges hidden, but I could tell it was only getting stronger.
I lay back on my pillow, staring up at the canopy. Around me, the others' breathing evened out into sleep. For a while, I let myself drift with it, feeling the faint pulse of magic in the stone walls, the air, the very heartbeat of Hogwarts.
Tomorrow classes would start, and the games and laughter would give way to work.
But for tonight, for this one night, I let myself rest. I was home.
-----------------------------------------
Dumbledore POV*
The Great Hall lay quiet now, its magic dimming with the departing students.
The candles floated lower, the enchanted ceiling fading to a dusky velvet sky.
Dumbledore remained at the staff table, fingers steepled, his eyes on the door through which Harry Potter had just passed.
Harry.
He had smiled and laughed tonight, bantering with his friends in that peculiar, clipped wit of his.
It was not the humor Albus remembered from James, boisterous and mischievous, nor the warmth of Lily's gentle teasing.
It was sharper, stranger. Almost as if Harry's words belonged to another age, another culture.
The students loved it nonetheless, and Albus… he was quietly grateful that Harry could still laugh at all.
But under that laughter, Dumbledore felt the weight of truth.
The boy had died.
At the hands of his own kin. The thought twisted something deep inside him, a rare crack in the fortress of his composure.
He had left Harry there, on that doorstep, convinced blood wards would keep him safe.
Instead, cruelty had crushed him. And only through some impossible convergence of magic and will had the child returned.
Albus shut his eyes. He had carried many regrets in his long life, but this one burned differently. He could not change the past, but the Dursleys… he would not forget them.
When the time was right, when eyes were not upon him, justice would be served. No cruelty toward this boy would go unanswered again.
Then there was the scar. Or rather, what it once held. The Horcrux fragment was gone now, Harry himself had told him, and Albus had felt the truth of it.
But something new had bloomed in its absence.
The boy no longer carried Voldemort's soul. Instead, he carried… presence.
It was like standing near a wellspring of magic. Not constant, not wild, but undeniable. It was not there in June, when they last spoke about the Stone. It was something born in the summer months. Enlightenment? Ritual? Some rediscovery of self? He could not tell.
Albus's fingers tightened around his goblet.
Could this be it?
The prophecy whispered back to him across the years: the power the Dark Lord knows not.
He had long assumed it meant love, and perhaps it still did.
But what if love had transfigured into something more? What if Harry's death and return had sparked a form of power Voldemort could neither sense nor steal? Rituals? Ancient wards? A hidden well of magic beyond Albus's reckoning?
The thought both heartened and unsettled him.
Fawkes trilled softly from his perch, a note of sorrow.
"Yes," Dumbledore murmured, "he has walked further into fire than I ever wished for him. And he has returned with light I cannot name."
He stood slowly, his joints stiff with the ache of age, and looked once more at the emptying Hall.
Harry's laughter still echoed faintly, like a ghost in the rafters.
The boy who lived.
The boy who died.
The boy who returned.
Dumbledore pressed a hand over his chest. "Forgive me, Lily. Forgive me, James. I will not fail him again."
With that vow weighing heavy in his heart, Albus Dumbledore turned toward his office, already planning for the tutoring sessions to begin, and for the reckoning the Dursleys would one day face.
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Guys i would like if you review this fic if you can.
some guys are leaving one star because they dont have patience.
i wont say give 5 star just give what this work deserves
plz.
-Nine11P2