A/N: This just wanted to be written. I was in a very strange mood today and this is the result. I am no writer, I just wanted to get this out of my system. Please also note that I am no native speaker, so please forgive my rather poor English.
The Room
The old wizard slowly climbed up the narrow stairway. Before he entered the room, he paused, leaning heavily on his cane. He didn't know what to expect behind these doors and he had to admit to himself that he was feeling slightly anxious. After all, he had not been here since he was a boy. How long ago that seemed to be now... He sighed softly and opened the doors carefully.
The room had changed since he had seen it last. It seemed almost bare without all the magical instruments that had fascinated him so much when he was a boy, but the last headmaster had obviously had a very dry personality that left no room for silly tidbits or strange looking things. He had met the man once at a ministry function, but never really got to know him. He had not been at Hogwarts since he had left during his sixth year.
That was the reason why he was so suprised when the letter came, the letter asking him to be Hogwarts' new headmaster. At first he wanted to decline. He did not want to go back there. But in the end his sense for duty had won. The same instinct that had gotten him in trouble so many times when he was young...
The old man turned his attention back to the study. His gaze slid over the chairs, the desk, up to the wall. His precedessors were mostly sleeping, a few talking quietly to eachother. He scanned the portraits one by one, looking for the one image that was important to him... There. The frame was empty, and its occupant was nowhere to be seen. The new headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sighed again and murmured into his long, white beard: "I'm finally home now, Professor. Like you always wanted." With that, he crossed the room and sat down behind the desk. It felt strange sitting there, in this room, in this chair.
Images flashed through his mind, of another old man with bright robes, twinkling eyes and a warm smile, talking to a small, black-haired boy sitting in front of the desk. Feeling restless, the new headmaster stood again, walking over to the window overlooking almost every corner of Hogwarts' grounds. Again old memories surfaced, and this time he lost himself completely in them. He remembered his school days, the happy ones, the bad ones, his friends that were all dead now and his enemies that were, too. "I am the last one left.", he said out loud, "Who would have thought." When he looked up, the sun had almost set. The carriages would arrive soon.
Turning, he caught his reflection in a mirror. How old he looked! His face was wrinkled, his once black hair and beard white, but at least his eyes behind the thick glasses were the same green as always. His back was slightly crooked and his skin marred with the marks of old injuries. He brushed his long hair back. There it was, faded with time, but still there, the famous scar.
With one last glance to the empty portrait of his mentor, the famous Harry Potter, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry sat himself back down. There was much work to do.
The Great Hall buzzed with the laughter and the conversations of the students. The newly sorted first years seemed to be a bit overwhelmed. He smiled. Had he ever been this young? His thoughts went back to his first year at this school. Suddenly he knew what he had to do. He stood up. The hall was at once silent. "Welcome, dear students, to another year at Hogwarts. I am Professor Harry James Potter and I have a few things to say, before we start eating. And these are: Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!"
And, in the room at the top of the highest tower in the Castle, a pair of painted blue eyes started to twinkle softly.
