Wow, thanks so much to everyone for the great response I've gotten to this story. Knowing that people took the time to read is just wonderful. Thrilled me no end, I can tell you! A very special thanks also to those who were kind enough to review. You made my week! This chapter is just setting the scene, actually physically getting our hero to his location.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. Dash it all.
Chapter Two
Slightly disorientated, Harry spent his first couple of minutes in Hogsmeade simply gazing around himself, bombarded by memories. He recalled running through these streets, both visible and invisible, battling through snow and rain, baking in sunshine, laughing, shouting, arguing, whispering, and, most memorably on his last trip, hiding. He kept his head down, determined not to draw attention to himself, and only occasionally noticed the appearance of a familiar building as he dove through the winding streets. Before anyone had had a chance to have a proper look at him, he found himself before the castle gates.
He dithered for a moment, both as the realisation of his situation truly settled around him and because he hadn't the faintest idea how to proceed into the grounds. He ruffled his hair and pushed his glasses further up his nose. No divine inspiration struck. He huffed at the unyielding steel.
"Open up! Eh...Alohamora! Damn...this is...em...Profess...it's Harry Potter?" he mumbled, waving his wand somewhat feebly. The gates swung open instantaneously.
"Th...thanks very much!" he stuttered to no one in particular. Unbeknownst to him, the giant stone eagles on the gateway plinths above him bowed their heads in acknowledgement.
Grasping the handles of his suitcases with renewed vigour, he strode through the magnificent grounds, displaying a confidence he did not truly feel. He knew he could simply get the luggage to levitate or even send it on ahead, but he wanted to do this the muggle way. It felt right somehow. And, suddenly, there it was. The sprawling castle looked exactly as he remembered it. The Daily Prophet had reported the full restoration job had taken 200 volunteers over 5 months to complete, such was the level of destruction imposed by innumerable dark curses. Yet standing before it now, Harry couldn't tell. It loomed over him with the same awe-inspiring dignity and majesty it had had on his first day here as a wide-eyed eleven year old. And, he was sure, it would continue to do so for many students to come.
It was almost as though too many memories were battling for Harry's attention. His mind was surprisingly and wonderfully clear as he loped through the grounds, each rise and fall of the earth underfoot both unexpected and achingly familiar. With the entrance finally in sight, he noticed a number of shiny hovering discs scattered haphazardly over the castle's undulating grasslands. Looking back over the way he had come, he noticed more of the shimmering orbs in seemingly indiscriminate locations. The density of these strange floating objects increased alarmingly the closer one came to the front door. Almost against his better judgement, he paused by one very near the entrance. His stomach shot into his boots.
Written upon the disc in a neat curved script were the words 'Colin Creevey. Aged 16.' Harry was suddenly bowed under the weight of an onslaught of images: Oliver hoisting Colin's tiny body onto his shoulder, Colin and Dennis' doomed attempts at Triwizard badges, his immobile petrified body, his almost visible energy and, above all, his camera. Harry laughed quietly in spite of himself. He made as though to touch the disc but his fingers simply passed straight through it. He settled for nodding briefly at it instead. He ignored the rest of the discs as he trotted up to the massive front door. There would be plenty of time for that later.
Just as he lifted his fist to knock, for want of anything better to do, the massive door swung open and Harry was face to face with his new employer. He stood dumbly for a number of seconds before dropping his suitcases with a crash. The intervening years had etched themselves onto Professor McGonagall's face, no doubt about it, and yet she somehow looked younger than Harry could remember her ever being. Her hair was still clawed back into a secure bun and her dark robes billowed around her narrow frame. Nevertheless, her back remained steely straight and there was a fierce determination in her mouth that only dissipated as her lips curved into an irresistible smile.
"Oh my dear boy," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a fierce hug that he willingly returned.
"Welcome back, Harry. Welcome home."
