In the warded areas of Scotland, a ray of sunshine illuminated the windows of Hogwarts, which was kept squeaky clean by the houseelves.
Even the muggles cannot deny the ancient castle's majestic presence and the sheer magical essence the establishment possessed – if they could sense magic. But today, it practically glowed, showing off its age-old grace and beauty for a special someone.
Someone who had not been on the school ground for a very long time.
Someone who fled from himself.
Someone who lost so much.
Someone who saved the entire magical population.
The Boy-Who-Lived.
The Saviour of the Wizarding World.
The Vanquisher of Voldemort.
Harry Potter.
A stream of magic glided from the castle to caress the rosy cheeks of a tall, handsome man with shoulder-length ebony hair and emerald green eyes that shone with wisdom and glistened with pain.
"I'm back," Harry muttered under his breath, as though answering an unspoken question. He closed his eyes and slowly let the surrounding magic engulf him.
'Welcome back,' whispered the magic, caressing the man's silhouette tenderly and lovingly.
'Welcome back, Harry Potter.'