Hello everyone!

I am TheLostHorcrux :) This is my very first fanfic (Ahhhh!) so please be gentle with me. . Any reviews are welcome, because every little helps! (God, I sound like Tesco...)

Anyway, I am a major Drarry shipper (I have nothing against other pairings btw) so, if you don't like that, you don't have to read this.

But those of you that do, YAY! Please read and review! :)

He knew this place.

The dark walls, the crystal chandelier, the cold stone fireplace. He knew it very well.

A great spiral staircase stood to his left and wound up behind him, leading to the next floor, and to his right, he knew without looking that there were steps that led to a dungeon. It was a place that haunted his nightmares, made him shiver with the thoughts of what might have happened.

Outside the windows, it was pitch black. No wind howled through trees, nothing moved beyond the clear glass. It felt… unnatural.

Fear gripped him. He wanted to scream, shout, run, but he couldn't move. His palms began to sweat. He urged gis body to move, to flee, to do anything, for Merlin's sake! He knew what was coming, and he had to get out of here. Now.

The silence that had engulfed him was broken then, as light footsteps seemed to echo loudly in the cavernous room. Slow, steady steps that came from the stairs behind him. He begged his body to turn around and draw his wand, even just turn his head, just so he knew who it was. His blood screamed with adrenaline as his heart banged against his chest.

"Harry Potter…" A low hiss reached his ears from behind him. Suddenly, as if someone was holding a white hot poker to his forehead, pain erupted from his scar. A scream built up in his throat with nowhere to go. His eyes were screwed shut from the pain, but he made himself pry them open to see the face that was now in front of him, emerging from the shadows, his body fighting the invisible spell that held him.

It was the red eyes he registered first. Bright, cold, malevolent red eyes with snake-like pupils. The slits for nostrils, the bared teeth, the smooth head, the pale skin All of it burned into Harry's eyes and set his scar aflame.

"You think you can escape me, don't you?" came a hiss. "But even in death, Harry Potter, I… Am not dead."

Harry was sure that his heart was going to explode through his rib cage. He had to reach his wand. He had to. His life depended on it. He tried to move his fingers, his arm, anything! Why couldn't he move?

"Now," Lord Voldemort smiled, "I will show you how real I am. Crucio!"

It felt like ten thousand knives were forcing themselves into his body, his head was going to explode. The spell holding him broke. A scream erupted from his throat as his knees buckled beneath him. The pain roared through him, setting everything on fire. He couldn't take the pain. He wanted it to end.

As quickly as it had started, it ended. He gulped for air as his throat stung from the scream that felt like it had ripped it in two. His arms and legs trembled violently as he looked up as his tormentor, trying to push himself to his feet.

"You are weak and pathetic, Harry Potter. You will always lose." A foot connected with Harry's face, snapping his head backwards as blood filled his mouth. He spat out the metallic tasting liquid, and tried to stand against, determination on his face.

"Look, you still try, knowing that the end is coming. You will never learn, Harry. Crucio!"

Hot flames of pain like Fiendfyre spread across his limbs, his insides, everything. He tried not to scream again, but it escaped from him. All he heard was himself letting out the noises of pain as he writhed on the floor in agony.

As the curse ended, he knew that Voldemort was speaking, but he couldn't hear the words. As the lay on the floor, his eyes focused on the fireplace. It was shrouded in shadows.

He could feel the darkness closing in around his vision and he knew he was going to pass out. He knew the feeling.

A movement caught his eyes. It was then that he realised there was someone there. Someone had stood by and watched Harry in immense pain. He lifted his head slowly to get a better look.

"Harry."

Voldemort moved, momentarily blocking Harry's line of sight. How could they have just stood there and watched? They were probably a Death Eater. The person moved suddenly, beginning to walk closer to Harry.

"Harry? Harry!"

He saw a pair of piercing grey eyes before the killing curse hit him.

"Harry! Wake up!"

His eyes snapped open to see a blurry orange mop above him. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he could feel his clothes sticking to him as he struggled to sit up. He felt his glasses being shoved into his hand and he hurriedly put them on.

Ron was sitting on his bed beside him, worry and concern written on his freckled face. "You alright mate? You started screaming and thrashing, like you were having a fit. I've been trying for ages to wake you up."

Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead, panting slightly. "Sorry. Nightmare." Since the war had ended, nightmares had plagued his sleep, even if they had become fewer and less frequent. He knew that Voldemort was dead and gone, that he wasn't coming back, there was no way for him to come back, yet his brain still decided to torture him with scenarios that ended up with Harry at Voldemort's mercy, amongst the others.

"Still?" Ron asked. "Have you thought about getting Dreamless Sleep Potion-"

"Ron," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I will not become dependant on a potion just because I can't face my own bloody demons."

Something must have shown on his face, because Ron's hand, which had been resting on the covers beside Harry, jerked back. "Right," he muttered, "Sorry."

Guilt manifested itself in Harry as he watched Ron get up and make his bed. It wasn't Ron's fault. "No, Ron, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. I'm just losing sleep because of the nightmares. I'll think about it, yeah?"

Ron looked at Harry over his shoulder. The raven haired boy shot his best friend a smile, which Ron returned. "Thanks mate."

"It's fine," Harry tossed his legs over the side of the bed. "What time is it by the way?"

"Just a little after six." replied Ron, standing up and grabbing a pair of socks. "You want to go down and get a cup of tea?"

"Sounds good to me." Harry smiled.

As they trudged down the many stairs from Ron's room to the kitchen, Harry couldn't help thinking that he shouldn't be at The Burrow. Mr and Mrs Weasley, along with the rest of the family, were still grieving. But it was seeing George that hurt Harry the most.

He ate well enough, and was still part of the conversations got on. But there was no mischievous twinkle in his eyes, or that all too familiar grin on his freckled face. Harry had seen him a few times look over his shoulder, as looking for the brother that was no longer with him.

The shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, had been temporarily closed since May, but Harry would be surprised if it ever opened again. The twins had always invented the items together. But now there was only one. George had lost more than just a brother, or a twin that night, Harry had thought, he lost half of himself.

Harry had argued to staying at The Burrow when Ron had asked him, but Mrs Weasley had insisted on it, saying that it would be good to get back into a normal routine. Harry thought otherwise. The wounds were too raw right now. Mrs Weasley sometimes still sat another place at the dinner table, beside George.

A mug of hot tea was placed in front of him, and he gratefully took it. He sipped at it slightly, and realised with affection that his best friend had added the right amount of sugar and milk.

"What was it?"

Harry looked up at Ron. "What was what?"

"The nightmare." Ron said, sitting opposite Harry. "What was it about this time?"

Harry started into the depths of his tea. "Malfoy Manor again."

He heard Ron shuffle slightly. "Ah." was all he said.

Harry knew it was difficult for Ron. He knew that Ron thought of when the Manor was mentioned; Hermione. Sometimes, during his nightmares, Harry could hear her screams, and the evil cackle of the mad woman who had tortured her. His grip tightened on his mug. At least she was dead, and Hermione safe.

Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron about the other person in the dream, but something stopped him in his tracks. He didn't know what it was. He frowned slightly, but not enough for Ron to notice. It might be because something had changed between them. Since the war had ended, they hadn't been as close, and it was now the middle of July. Maybe Ron was still grieving for the fallen. He had been spending a lot more time with Hermione, now that they had made their relationship known to their friends. Once, Harry had walked into the kitchen, and saw them sitting at the table, Ron clutching Hermione's hands like they were lifelines, his eyes red. They now saw where no one would wake in.

"…and then Hermi- Harry?" A hand waved in front of his face. Jerking out of his thoughts, he saw Ron watching him. "Were you listening?"

"Umm…No, sorry. What were you saying?" Harry asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ron sighed. "It doesn't matter." He stood up to take his now empty mug to the sink. Harry watched his friend as he gazed out the window.

They stayed like that for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts, until Ron's voice broke the silence. "The mail's here."

Harry lifted his gaze from the table to the window, past Ron's head. Sure enough, three dots, where were presumably owls, were heading to towards them. With each second that passed, they grew larger. Ron opened the window, letting in the morning breeze. The sun was already in the sky, and soon, the birds landed on the window sill. They were all tawny owls, and didn't squabble to hand over their delivery first, showing that they had been well trained. Ron untied The Daily Prophet from the leg of the first, depositing a Knut into the small pouch on its leg, before taking the two letters from the other. As one, the owls took off again out the open window.

Ron turned back to Harry and threw him a letter. "It's from Hogwarts."

Harry perked up at this, his dream and brooding momentarily forgotten. "Why did they write to us?"

"Merlin knows." Ron shrugged, before opening his own letter.

Harry carefully broke the wax seal and pulled out the parchment inside:

'Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been invited to re-sit your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is an optional choice. If you wish to return, accompanying this letter is a lift of supplies you will need depending on what classes you wish to sit.

We await your owl, with your response and your chosen classes by no later than July 31st.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'

Harry placed the letter on the table, looking at the familiar green ink. He should have known that his year would be invited back to the school. Those who were actually at Hogwarts during the last year had learned basically nothing, not to mention being punished by the Carrows. Harry still remembered Neville and Seamus' faces from that night. The bruises and healing cuts.

Harry looked up at Ron, "Well?"

Ron glanced from Harry to the letter, then back again. "It wouldn't hurt, would it? A last year to say good-bye to the place and all. And to be honest, we might not need the N.E.W.T's but they would come in handy."

Harry nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."

Ron smiled. "Well, we can pick our subjects later and send our replies tonight when Hermione gets here."

Again, Harry nodded. A movement from upstairs reached his ears.

"Looks like Mum's up." Ron said, "Wait until we tell her."

Harry laughed. "She'll want us to go to Diagon Alley today for the books then."

Ron joined in with his friend's laughter. "Well, she can wait. What subjects are you going to take?"

Harry removed the second bit of parchment from behind the letter. There was a list of subjects with all of the items they would need written under each one, along with the names of the professors taking the subjects. Although, beside Transfiguration and DADA there were no names. They obviously hadn't filled the posts yet. As for the subjects, Defence Against The Dark Arts was a yes. So were Transfiguration and Charms. He looked at Potions. Slughorn was to take it. And in all honesty, Harry didn't mind the subject when it wasn't Snape teaching.

His heart ached slightly as he thought of the Potions Master. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione all of the memories that he had seen that night. They seemed so… private. Too private to share with anyone, even his best friends.

So, that was four of his subjects sorted. He automatically ruled out Divination, Astronomy, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, History of Magic and Muggle Studies. That left Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology.

"D'you think Hagrid will be taking Care of Magical Creatures again?" asked Harry.

"Probably. I mean, he's already there, and he's taught us before. Grubbly-Plank was just a temp." Ron answered, looking at his own list. "Are you thinking of taking it like?"

"Maybe. Either that of Herbology."

"I'm more inclined to take Herbology to be honest," Ron said, "I don't think Care of Magical Creatures would really help us if we were to become Aurors or that."

Harry nodded slightly. Herbology it was then. He put the parchment back into the envelope and let it lie on the table.

He was going back. His heart fluttered with the thought of going back to the castle, walking its old corridors, talking to the portraits, the wonderful feasts. It was his home. Sure, he had Grimmauld Place now that the Order was disbanded, and Sirius had left him it. It was homier that it had been, with it being newly decorated, but it wasn't the same as being at Hogwarts.

"How well do you think they've restored it?" asked Harry. The thought of the castle not being the same hit him. They wouldn't have changed it that much, would they?

"Probably to what it was like, especially if McGonagall was overseeing it." Ron smiled. "You know what she'd have been like. 'That corridor does not belong there! And where do you suggest that that suit or armour goes? Oh for heavens sake, that staircase is supposed to move!'"

Ron's impression of the professor was so uncanny, that Harry burst out laughing. Ron soon joined him.

The laughter kept going as Mrs Weasley walked into the kitchen, pulling her dressing gown more tightly around her.

"And what are you two laughing at?" she asked, a smile of her face.

"Ron pretending to be Professor McGonagall." Harry chuckled as Mrs Weasley made her way over to the kettle, and tapped it with her wand. Immediately, it began to boil. She reached for a mug.

"Molly, for heaven's sake, don't use that mug!" Ron screeched as his old teacher. Mrs Weasley got such a shock, she almost dropped it. More laughter ensued as she turned to face her son.

"Oh, how funny!" She scolded, but a smile played on her lips. "What are the letters about dear?"

Ron grinned at his mum. "We're going back to Hogwarts."

The hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley was a welcome sight to Harry. He had missed it. Flourish and Blotts, Ollivanders, Madame Malkin's, everything. People surrounded him, going about their business. Ron and Hermione walked beside him, talking about the subjects and who else would be returning to the school. He didn't join in, giving them a moment alone amidst the crowd. People recognised him and called out to him.

"Good to see you, Mr Potter!"

"Mr Potter, great to see you back!"

"Looking well, Mr Potter sir!"

"Harry! Harry!"

The last shout made him turn around to see a familiar blonde head bobbing towards him. A grin emerged on his face as Luna arrived in front of him, her dreamy gaze on him. "Hello Luna."

"Going back, as well?" she asked, linking his arm with his. "I am too. Daddy says it's for the best, you know? To act like everything's back to normal."

"That's why we're going back to." said Harry, as they proceeded towards Flourish and Blotts. People waved to him as he passed. Thankfully, no one was pressing him for his autography or a photo. The new Minister of Magic, the one and only Kingsley Shaklebolt, had ordered everyone to leave Harry in peace and not to pester him. He was thankful to the man. It would have made this trip hellish.

"I think I'm going to take Divination again." said Luna as they entered the shop. "It was quite fascinating. But I hope they invite Firenze back. I preferred him to Professor Trelawney. I'm just as interested in the stars and planets like Firenze, you see, so it would be better. But I was meant to sit my sixth year last year, so I think they might just keep me in my seventh year."

"Yeah." Harry agreed, as Ron and Hermione disappeared to find the Charms and Transfiguration books they would need, along with the other books that they would need. Hermione, obviously, had taken more subjects than Harry and Ron. Harry was looking for the Defence books. Soon enough, he found them as Luna drifted away with a wave to the Divination section. He picked up three copies of the book, and headed to the Potions books. Secretly, he longed for the Half-Blood Prince's book again. He could now see that it had been Snape's. Who else would have modified the potions so that they worked better, other than a Potion Master?

"Got them?" A voice piped up behind him. He turned to see Hermione and Ron standing behind him. Hermione smiled at him, her books for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy clasped to her chest. He nodded, and they made their way to pay for them, before heading out once again into the busy streets. As he walked out, laughing at some joke that Ron had told, he bumped into someone.

Automatically, Harry said, "Sorry." He looked up and was shocked to see who it was.

Draco Malfoy stood looking at him, an expression mixed between fear and uncertainty on his face. He hurriedly wiped imaginary dust from him and sidled past them into the shop. Harry turned his head slightly and watched him as he walked around the shop. He didn't stand as straight as he did, and he kept jumping at the slightest noise. Harry raised his eyebrow but returned to his friends.

"What do you think that was about?" asked Ron, as they made their way through the streets carrying their heavy bags. "No snappy retort or nothing."

"Oh, just leave it be, Ron." Hermione sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"All I'm saying is that it's not like him, is it?" He muttered back as Harry lead them through the crowd.

"Maybe he's changed." Hermione suggested.

"Maybe." Harry said as they entered the Leaky Cauldron. It was strange that Malfoy hadn't given a comeback to Harry. He usually did. The war must have changed him more than Harry had thought. "Go get a table, I'll get the drinks."