"Harry. Harry! Wake up!" A familiar voice called. Harry turned over, and pulled his pillow over his ears, snuggling deeper into his blankets. His sleep had been plagued by nightmares, and as a result, he was exhausted, despite having been in bed for almost half a day.
"Harry, get down here!" A rather exasperated, more masculine voice called, disrupting Harry's sleep again. Groaning, he turned over. He had no desire to rise so early. After all, he was thoroughly spent; the wizarding war had taken its toll, and his physical and emotional reserves both were depleted, leaving him constantly lethargic and irritable. Couldn't his friends cut him some slack? Even after years of knowing them, it still him amazed him how they managed to be up and full of energy this early. Suddenly, the covers were pulled back, and he was momentarily blinded by the light now falling on his face. Gradually, his eyes adjusted and focused on two familiar faces hovering over him, both amused yet peeved at his reluctance to rise.
"What do you want?" He asked groggily, reaching to his nightstand to retrieve his wand and glasses. "It's Sunday morning. Cant a guy get some sleep?" A slightly accusatory tone had crept into his voice. Rather shamefaced now, Ron grinned sheepishly.
"Sorry mate, but you've got a rather persistent owl waiting for you downstairs."
"You should hurry up and open it, Harry," Hermione, Harry's other best friend added earnestly. "It's driving Mrs. Weasley up the walls." Sighing, Harry slid out of bed. He plodded down the stairs, going as slow as humanly possible in order to let Ron and Hermione know that he was still rather annoyed at them for disrupting his sleep. However, his efforts were in vain, as the pair walked behind him, deeply engaged in conversation, completely oblivious of the world around them. This was, of course, to be expected. Harry supposed he had to at least be thankful that it hadn't become excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their presence- yet. But who knew what would happen, given time? Harry was so preoccupied imagining scenarios in which -God forbid- Ron and Hermione would be so taken with each that it would be difficult to be in their presence that he hardly noticed when he reached the kitchen.
"Morning, Harry." The voice of George Weasley, Ron's older brother, snapped him out of his reverie. He looked around the kitchen to find him, and finally spotted him leaning against a counter, a forced grin plastered to his face. Though he was attempting to put up a cheerful front and live up to his reputation of family jester, Harry knew he was still mourning the loss of his twin brother, Fred. Harry, too, had lost many nights sleep with the image of Fred's last laugh still etched into his vision. George's eyes, it was plain to see, were tinged red. The family clearly hadn't yet fully recovered from the wizarding war, and neither had Harry.
"Morning, George. Good morning, Mrs. Weasley." He addressed the second part of his sentence to a rather plump, over worked looking woman hastily chopping up vegetables near the stove. Though it was painfully early, she already had the air of having to many things to tend to and too little time about her. Magic, contrary to common belief, couldn't solve all problems.
"Good morning, Harry, dear. An owl arrived for you this morning," she said, gesticulating vaguely to the living room area. "Would you mind taking care-" the rest of her sentence was cut of by a cacophony of noise coming from the area to which she had just pointed.
"Oof, get off me-" a familiar voice said, clearly annoyed and still slightly sleepy. Her protests were cut off by much screeching and flapping of wings; clearly the owl which Mrs. Weasley had referred to was in the living room, along with-
"Ginny!" Harry called, his face lighting up. He ran to the living room, and the two embraced warmly.
"Morning, Harry," Ginny smiled, and lightly pecked Harry on the cheek. "Now, I suggest you open the letter that's been waiting for you, or Mum's going to stupefy this owl and boil him" she said, sounding slightly annoyed yet humorous.
Grinning, Harry took the owl and carefully detached the letter tied to its leg. By this time, Hermione and Ron too had entered the room. Upon glancing at the seal, Harry caught his breath.
"Hogwarts...?" he marveled, raising his eyebrows and glancing at his friends.
"Go ahead, open it," his friends prompted. Judging by their poorly concealed grins, they too had received letters, and already knew what his said. With trembling fingers, Harry peeled off the wax seal and unfurled the scroll. His eyes scanned the paper, taking in the words once, twice, and finally a third time before he finally looked up at his friends. The letter bore just the words he had wanted more than anything to hear- that they had been invited back to Hogwarts. But now that he was faced with the reality of actually returning, a shadow of doubt crept into his mind. Hogwarts without Dumbledore? Who would return? And after the disastrous last year plagued by the Dark Arts that a majority of the school had had to experience, would anyone even want to go back? Return to Hogwarts, and have the memories of the deaths of their family and friends freshly reprinted into their minds? Have to walk through the halls within which many succumbed to their injuries?
"Harry...?" a questioning voice asked, and he looked up to meet Ginny's eyes. The three people surrounding him were looking at him with slightly alarmed expressions on their faces- the raging emotions that had just coursed through him clearly hadn't gone unnoticed by his three best friends. But upon looking at their familiar faces, all of the happier memories that he had of the castle flooded back to him. Harry was suddenly overwhelmed by a intense desire to return to the castle, to the happy times. To the place where he had spent the last few years of his life, the place where he had grown. His shining eyes met Ron's and Hermione's, whose expressions were still doubtful. Now exuberant, however, he grinned widely, and they returned his smile tentatively.
"We're going back to Hogwarts!"
oooooo
"Ron, Harry, Hermione, you three go to Madam Malkins,"Arthur Weasely, Ron's father instructed. "Molly and I will go to Fluorish and Blotts to purchase your books for the coming year, and Ginny, George can take you to the apothecary to purchase whatever implements you'll need for potions."
"Dad, I'm perfectly capable of shopping alone, I'm almost seventeen, I can mana-" Ginny began, but her protests were cut off by an exasperated Mrs. Weasely.
"Ginny, just listen to your father, you're not of age and can't make all of your decisions. You and George can stop by the joke shop on the way back if you like-" but as soon as she said the words 'joke shop', the entire family froze. Harry eyes flickered from Mrs. Weasely to George, whose features had contorted into a grief stricken mask. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was the joke shop that George and his twin brother, Fred, had opened with Harry's triwizard tournament winnings. The mention of anything that George had done along with Fred caused him to tense, and lapse into a momentary blackout, as the memory of Fred's untimely demise played itself over and over again in his mind. Harry had first hand experience of how this felt- He had lost his Godfather, Sirius Black, three years ago, and he was victim to such feelings as well. Ginny was the first to recover, and slipped her hand into George's, in an attempt to alleviate the pain he was evidently feeling. She guided him away, pausing only to glance sorrowfully back at Harry. He saw his own grief reflected in her eyes, and sadly looked away. The trio, taking this as a cue to disperse, gloomily trudged away, their spirits dampened by the mention of Fred. Hermione, too, had her hand in Ron's, soothingly whispering into his ear, attempting to placate the anger he always felt at the Death Eaters at the mention of any one who had passed in the previous weeks.
The first thing Harry spotted when the trio walked into Madam Malkin's was a mop of whitish blond hair. Instantly recognizing the figure to which it belonged, the three war heroes tensed. At the tinkling of the bell which announced their arrival, the owner of the hair turned, and his eyes, upon landing on the trio widened in surprise, and... was that apprehension? Hermione drew in her breath sharply, and her eyes flitted from Harry to Draco Malfoy, the blond haired Death Eater, both of whom seemed to be stuck in what seemed like a battle of the wits, a battle to see who succumbed first, a battle to single out the weaker man. Ron, too, was glaring at Draco Malfoy, and his hand tightened around his wand. But none of them spoke. The tension between the four teenagers was apparent; not a soul in the shop moved. Madam Malkin herself had frozen in the act of hanging up a pair of dress robes. The silence grew louder and louder, till the point where it seemed unbearable, when Harry's guttural voice cut through the room.
"Mrs. Malfoy." He said, tearing his eyes away from Draco's. "I... I'd like to thank you." He admitted, and Draco's eyebrows rose. "If it wasn't for you... I probably wouldn't be standing here." Draco's eyes widened, to the point where they were comparable with a pair of Galleons. Evidently, Narcissa Malfoy had desisted from mentioning the incidents which had played out that fateful night in the Forbidden Forest to her son.
"It was for my son, Potter," She said, her tone quiet, yet Hermione thought she heard a hint of remorse. "I regretted out involvement with... Him... Since day one. I at least owed you that much." Her voice quavered at the end, and she opened her mouth as to speak again, but then closed it, and swept from the shop. The trio was left with no option but to stare with their mouths agape at the door through which she had fled, moments previously.
"So it's not all Malfoys that are terrible, is it?" Ron said, the first to recover. "Only you." He added scathingly, and Draco's astounded expression slipped from his face faster than Harry had thought humanly possible, only to be replaced by his signature Malfoy sneer.
"I was going to apologize as well, weasel, but obviously, your arrogance doesn't provide for second chances," he spat, abhor dripping from his every word. "But Potter... You rid me of the one man that has haunted my daydreams since he gave me that foreboding task in sixth year. For that, I owe you my gratitude." Malfoy said. "But don't think for a moment that we're even close to friends. I can't afford to associate myself with weasels and mudbloods," he said, and glanced at Hermione and Ron scornfully.
"You foul little-" Ron began heatedly, but Hermione pulled on his arm to restrain him.
"Let me handle this." She whispered assertively. "Malfoy. You may think we're affected by your lowly insults and frivolous attempts to irk us, but, trust us; they no longer have an effect on any of us. I must say, I thought that you may have matured, albeit marginally, when you thanked Harry just now, but apparently, that's not the case. But let it be known, that once we're back at Hogwarts, none of us," she gesticulated to the three of them, "are putting up with your petulance. I'm Head Girl, Malfoy, and I have a zero tolerance policy for pretentious gits." Both Ron and Harry grinned appreciatively, waiting for the sneer to drop off Malfoy's face. But instead of his expression morphing to one of dismay and apprehension, his sneer became even more pronounced.
"But haven't you heard, Granger?" He asked, venom and scorn laced through his voice. "I'm Head Boy." And with one last look at the astounded expressions of the threesome, Draco Malfoy smirked and walked away.
So, that was the first chapter, yipee. Hope you guys liked it. Please review! This is my first fanfiction, and I'm forever in need of constructive criticism. I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible. Adios! I love you guys. xx