Harry Potter looked around the empty Platform 9 and 3/4.
Memories of the lost boy that had first stepped onto the train flooded his mind, and for once, he did not shake them off.
The boy he had once been was still there, inside of him. It would always be there.
He had never gone back to school after his sixth year. The memories had simply been too much; when he had visited Hermione, blood seemed to spill into the hallways. Blood dripped from the ceiling. Blood was everywhere.
And the students no longer treated him as one of their own. He wasn't, not anymore; Voldemort's death had seen to it that wherever he went, the stigma of a hero went before him. So he let the one place that had offered him shelter go.
He had gone back, of course; for the war memorials, the alumnae gatherings, the 40th celebration of Dumbledore's Army. But it wasn't the same.
Sure, he had loved his time there. The castle had been the one place in the world where he was free to be just Harry. In the library, he wasn't running from Dudley's friends who wanted to beat him up. In the classrooms, he could answer the questions freely. People weren't afraid to be paired up with him.
Except in his second year, of course.
But then his peaceful haven had been invaded; first by Lucius Malfoy and the diary, then by Umbridge, and finally destroyed, at last, by Voldemort.
Voldemort had won that battle.
A bench appeared in front of him.
Harry walked over it and sat down, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He had last been to this station the previous September to see his grandchildren off to Hogwarts. Ankaa, his granddaughter by Lily, had been oddly sad to leave.
He smiled as he thought of her. She was a stubborn one, and had inherited much of her grandfather's pride. But she was also goodhearted, and joyful, and generous. She had been sorted into Slytherin, a fact that her grandfather had proudly boasted to all who came near him for the next few months. Her cousin, Kaus, had been put into Gryffindor; a fact that his grandfather had boasted about for the next several months.
Harry smiled. Ron had been gleeful upon hearing that he had "one-upped" his former rival, Draco. And maybe Draco did deserve it for boasting the way he did about Ankaa.
Harry, in the meantime, was merely happy that Ankaa had been sorted into a house she was happy in.
His thoughts went back to the time he was sorted. Harry had always wondered secretly what would have happened if he hadn't protested; if he had gone with the hat's decision to put him in Slytherin.
He could have been great.
Maybe, just maybe, he would have gone back for that final year. Maybe family gatherings wouldn't consist of the relatives getting drunk happily while retelling old stories of the war heroes who had died in the battles. Stories that still filled him with regret over what he had done, over the lives he had lost by not giving in, over the lives that maybe, just maybe, he could have been able to save.
But then he wouldn't have Ginny, or his three children. He wouldn't have named his youngest son Albus Severus Potter in a fit of drunken melancholy. He still wondered why exactly Ginny hadn't protested at that name, and concluded that the only reasonable explanation was that she had been drunk too. He couldn't really remember much from that night.
And he wouldn't have met Hermione, or Ron; and maybe, just maybe, he would have given into temptation and joined Voldemort.
He wouldn't have had those few moments of happiness with Remus and Sirius.
He wouldn't have had been friends with Hagrid; Hagrid, who had been his first real friend.
But there was no time for regrets now. Harry had paid the price of being the hero; he would never know what a normal life could have lead to.
Perhaps it might have been better to have been the villain.
But he wasn't a villain, he could never have been one. Because there was a small part of him, a small part that would always exist, that put others' wants in front of his own needs.
And he would forever pay the price that came with those desires.
Harry's gaze had slipped down onto the floor, but it came back up again as he heard the unforgettable sound of the maroon Hogwarts Express coming into the station.
But this time, there were no students, there were no loving families saying goodbye. There wasn't anyone at all.
He stood up and went over to the train as it completely stopped. Smiling as the years rolled away from his body, as his mind remembered the last time he had boarded this train. He smiled as he gladly stepped onto the train.
It was empty, as he had known it would been. As he made his way into a compartment the train had started to move again, and he could see the steam that billowed into the station, revealing the ghosts of his past.
He smiled even as he sat down, smiled even as the tiredness of his body pushed his mind into oblivion.
Harry was awoken by the trolley lady. For once, however, he wasn't hungry; and she smiled knowingly at him.
"You know why you're here, don't you?"
Harry grinned at her. The lady's voice had sounded like music to his ears, and he wondered why he had never really had a conversation with her before.
"Yes, ma'am, I do." For once.
Darkness hadn't fallen when the train had reached Hogwarts. Harry wondered whether it ever would.
As he exited the train, he was greeted by the sight of Hagrid's enormous girth and by his booming voice.
"Harry! What are y'ah doin' here?"
Harry smiled at Hagrid. Things hadn't changed. In truth, they never really would.
"Let's just say, Hagrid, that I decided to take the train."
As Harry and Hagrid walked up to the castle, Harry felt truly exuberant for the first time in his life. Light spilled out from the castle, and even though it didn't seem so big anymore, it still made him feel protected. Loved.
People came out from Hogwarts to greet them. Any darkness, if had even truly been there, faded; the sky seemed to light up with a new dawn.
And Harry grinned with joy.
For he would go back and pay a hero's price a thousand times over if he could experience this for even one second. But he didn't have one second.
He had all of eternity.
Dumbledore lead the charge, his blue eyes twinkling madly even in the light. And then they paused; the charge faded, it was merely a mass of people, of friends; of family.
Dumbledore gazed at Harry wisely. Hermione and Ron had appeared at Harry's side; Ginny stood behind them with some of the other Weasleys. Potters had appeared too; they intermixed freely with his adopted family, and somehow Harry knew them on sight.
Hermione was the first to speak.
"This isn't a dream, is it, Professor? This isn't even a memory."
And Dumbledore smiled lovingly back.
"My dear, the term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning. The battle has finally been won."
Okay, so I had this random idea today, and I really couldn't finish the next chapter of The Legacy of the Blacks. Don't worry, it'll be up soon, but I really needed to write this.
Can anyone guess what the last quote is from? I have to say, that book's ending it probably the best one I've ever read. Sorry, Harry Potter :(
To clear things up, in this oneshot Draco had two sons. Scorpius married Rose; Demetri married Lily. I got the kids' names from star constellations.
I don't own either of them. So please don't sue me even though I didn't put a disclaimer at the begining.
Review and I might write more oneshots!
~ Alexye