Disclaimer: Though we may fantasize about them a lot, none of these characters are ours. They all belong to the inimitable JK Rowling, much to our chagrin. We're not making any money out of this either, so nobody sues anybody, a'ight?
Authors' (yes, plural) Notes: This is our first foray into the fabulous world of fanfiction! Constructive criticism is highly encouraged. To tell you the truth, we're suffering from HP withdrawal syndrome and this is the only way we know how to cope - aside from reading the books, watching the films, and reading all those magnificent fanfics posted here.
-oOo-
Prologue
The War had begun.
There was hardly time for any preparations. The mass escape of Death Eaters in Azkaban three nights before, the seemingly senseless attacks on wizards and Muggles, and the assassination attempt on the Minister of Magic forced the Ministry to declare open war.
Reeling from having narrowly escaped another attempt on his life only two days ago, a very pale and heavily guarded Cornelius Fudge finally sought counsel with Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Together with Heads of the Ministry's various departments and Hogwarts' senior faculty, an impromptu war council secretly convened in the Headmaster's office.
Indeed anybody who was in Dumbledore's office that day would have thought they have stumbled into a secret War Room: a very large map of Wizarding London was quickly conjured up against one wall with blinking red dots marking areas recently attacked by Death Eaters; rolls of parchment lay strewn all over the large table, with charmed quills either furiously scribbling down or scratching out various tactics and stratagems deliberated and vetoed by the council; troops of Wizarding chess pieces were engaged in mock battle on another table.
Emerging from what was probably the longest meeting held in Hogwarts, members of the secret war council rose as one twenty-four hours later: faces grim, jaws set, fists clenched. It was time to put the plan into action. Time was the hidden enemy and nobody in the room believed for a moment that they would emerge victorious with what precious little they could afford to prepare. But finally standing united, they have reason to hope.
The mounting terror that spread across Wizarding London in the last five years had significantly reduced the number of students attending Hogwarts. Now that war has been declared, Dumbledore knew he simply could not compromise the safety of his students. Thus, it was with a heavy heart that he announced the closing of Hogwarts to a very small gathering of students at the Leaving Feast. It had been a solemn occasion as everyone raised their goblets together for the last time, it seemed - for none knew if they would return - or see each other - ever again.
For indeed, the last five years have also marked an exodus such as never before seen in the Wizarding World. Some wizarding families (mostly those with Muggle relations) have either evacuated to Muggle districts all over England, or migrated to foreign countries.
Those who remained behind had closed ranks, and quickly responded to the Ministry's urgent call for volunteers. These witches and wizards have, at one point, either suffered directly or lost their loved ones in the hands of Voldemort and his followers. After years of living in fear for their lives, they have had enough. Arriving by Floo, Portkey, or the Knight Bus, a surprisingly large number of magical folk - young and old alike - appeared in the Ministry of Magic, wands clutched and ready to fight.
Harry smoothed out the small slip of parchment he clutched in his hand and ran a finger over the familiar, narrow handwriting:
It is time.
Dragging his eyes away from the parchment, Harry stared out from the window of the thestral-drawn carriage. Hogwarts loomed up over the horizon, an imposing black mass of sharp turrets and towers set against the dying day. The sight never failed to awe Harry, no matter how many times he had made this same journey years before. But now, his awe is slowly being washed away by a wave of dread as the carriage cantered past the magnificent wrought-iron gates and started its uphill climb towards the castle.
The years following Harry's graduation from Hogwarts have been a continuous struggle - both for the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix - to quell the attempts of Voldemort and his supporters to regain power. But the next attack was always more terrible than the last, the victory to the side of the light so few and far in between. In spite of this, Harry had taken some comfort with the knowledge that, at least, Hogwarts has remained unperturbed by the world outside its walls - an implacable fortress against the turbulent times.
Until now.
It has been five years since 22-year-olds Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley graduated from Hogwarts. In those five years, none of them had set foot in the school until this very day, and none of them had expected to come back in such circumstances. The arrival of the same cryptic message at their doorstep and the declaration of war on the same day three days ago had left very little doubt in their minds about what the message meant. After a flurry of owls among them, the Trio had agreed to meet in Hogsmeade and make the familiar trek up to Hogwarts together.
"It looks the same from here, doesn't it?" said a voice from one of the three other occupants of the carriage, gently interrupting Harry's musings. Harry turned his green gaze to the woman seated in front of him and smiled slightly at her wistful tone.
There are times, such as this, when he would look at Hermione and be somewhat surprised to find such a striking woman looking back at him: paler, thinner, but still possessing the same untamed mane of honey-brown curls. And yet the years have shadowed her eyes with sadness and pulled down the corners of her mouth with the weight of a barely-spoken tragedy. After her parents were killed in a car accident a year ago (resulting from what puzzled Muggle authorities called an unexplainable mechanical failure), Hermione had retreated into silence and buried her grief in research work for the Ministry.
"Yeah," agreed Ron, who was sitting beside Hermione. "But I expect they've started adding fortifications to the castle by now." Like Harry, Ron had entered Auror training after leaving Hogwarts and spent the following years on the field as a double agent for the Ministry and the Order. At twenty-two, Ron was proving to be a brilliant military strategist and his contribution to the Order in keeping track of alternative weapons and creatures for defense has been invaluable.
"So it is true, then? They're planning on attacking Hogwarts next?" Hermione asked, with a slight tremor in her voice.
"The Aurors who were able to break the intercepted code seemed to think so," confirmed Ron. "Dumbledore thinks it's only a matter of time before Voldemort would plan something like this. I mean, they'd be virtually invincible if they manage to get a hold of Hogwarts. I'd like to see them try, though."
Harry nodded wordlessly at this exchange and tried to mentally shake himself out of his gloomy stupor. The Wizarding world is teetering in the brink of a war, the outcome of which none could foretell. Nothing will be achieved if he allowed himself to be overtaken by fear.
Especially now, Harry thought to himself, as he gently run his other hand through the long dark tresses of his wife, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder through their journey to Hogwarts. His marriage to Cho early this year has been a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak existence, and it gave Harry a renewed sense of urgency to vanquish Voldemort once and for all. He swore that no child of his shall ever be born under Voldemort's reign of terror.
Cho stirred and finally woke up as the carriage halted by the front drive. Straightening up and blinking at Harry she said, "Goodness, we're here all ready? I didn't even realize I fell asleep."
"I suppose you had a busy night?" Hermione asked sympathetically.
"Quite busy, yes," Cho said as Harry helped her step down from the carriage. "There was an emergency at St. Mungo's last night, and I couldn't get away until this morning." Cho Chang was a certified Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She, too, had received a message from Dumbledore, requesting to share her expertise and work alongside Madam Pomfrey in anticipation of what lies ahead.
All four of them were now making their way up the marble steps, then past the heavy oak double doors. Their footsteps rang hollowly along the corridors, holding a silent welcome into empty hallways that had once echoed loud and youthful chatter. The smooth, undulating fields are now jagged and pierced with freshly dug trenches and sharpened tree stumps. The open grounds that bore witness to many a Quidditch match have almost disappeared under a multitude of tents housing Aurors, volunteers, and mediwitches. The castle's towering turrets that had once openly pondered the beauty and mystery of the heavens are now guarded and watchful - vigilantly scouring the air and grounds for any suspicious activity.
Back to Hogwarts after five years and Harry felt he'd never been to a stranger place.