Chapter 27 Hogwarts Express
Harry and Neville had spent the night together at the cabin, their last before leaving for Hogwarts. Lady Longbottom had been relieved of her duty to take Neville to the station—much to the mutual relief of both grandson and grandmother—since Remus and Sirius had happily taken on the responsibility for both boys.
Lying in his bunk, Harry stared up at the ceiling of his box, surrounded by the extraordinary magic that had changed his life. He grinned, knowing that he would take his box with him to Hogwarts. He briefly contemplated sneaking Remus into the castle with it—stuffing him in with the luggage. The idea made him chuckle, especially as he recalled how Remus had once joked about doing exactly that if Harry had been forced to go back to the Dursleys.
His amusement faded into quiet thoughtfulness.
His home.
The thought warmed him and made his chest ache at the same time. He loved everything about his life. He loved everyone in it. He had a family now.
It was almost impossible to believe that only a month ago, he had still been living with the Dursleys. A month ago, he hadn't known he was a wizard. A month ago, he hadn't met the Marauders.
His eyes flicked to the enchanted painting, where the trio of pranksters were sprawled in their usual spots, sound asleep. He smirked. They all snored, and occasionally muttered in their sleep. Sirius sometimes barked or whimpered like a dog. It was ridiculous. It was adorable. It was everything Harry had never known he wanted.
A month ago, he hadn't even known he had a godfather. Three weeks ago, he hadn't known he had a godbrother. Three weeks ago, his godfather had still been in prison for crimes he hadn't committed.
And now, he was supposed to leave all of it behind.
Harry swallowed, a small knot of worry forming in his stomach. What if Hogwarts wasn't as wonderful as everyone said? What if it wasn't home?
But then he remembered Sirius, crouching down in front of him just the night before, gripping his shoulders and looking him straight in the eye.
"You don't have to stay if you don't like it, kiddo. You hear me? You always have a home here. Always."
The knot in his stomach loosened.
Giving up on sleep, Harry carefully climbed out of bed and slipped out of the box. The cabin was quiet, the air cool in the early morning. He glanced at the clock on the wall—one of Remus's, the kind that ran on a modified Tempus charm rather than batteries or electricity. Six a.m.
Too early to be awake. Too late to go back to sleep.
Harry was fascinated by magic and couldn't wait to learn magic. His hand moved to his wand holster and he summoned his wand to his hand looking at it once again in wonder. The feel of his magic moving through the wood was warm and inviting. Reassuring. It seemed as excited about the prospect of learning magic as he was.
He grinned as he remembered recent conversations with the marauders about the nature of magic.
Prongs believed that wands were creations to help wizards channel their magic. Essentially it harnessed the magic of tree and beast, the magic bonds with the object, with its essence, and a wizard and wand create a symbiotic relationship.
"A wizard who spends time understanding the nature of his magic and strengthening the relationship with his wand will find it much easier to do magic with that wand, but sacrifices his ability to tap into his magic without said wand."
Harry had thought about this a great deal, having held in his hand dozens of wands as Mr. Ollivander scoured his inventory for the wand he now had.
He remembered the warmth that had spread from his core to the tingling of his fingers, the blaze of power that flared to life when he had connected with it. He wondered briefly, what it said about him that his wand and Voldemort's shared a phoenix feather core. Would his wand work as well for Voldemort as it did for him? A worthy question that followed him to the dimly lit kitchen.
He had troubled questions about dark magic. He had listened to the marauders argue about what made a spell dark. They all seemed to agree that magic wasn't light or dark, but that you couldn't wield dark magic with the intent to harm without negative consequences.
"Dark magic, like dark deeds, damages the soul. It drives wizards to madness," Portrait Moony explained. "You can wield dark magic without dark intent and come away without that consequence, however, many have fallen into that trap, taken a bite of the poison apple and become addicted all in the name of the greater good."
Padfoot had argued that all magic was addicting. One could cast a light spell with the intent to kill someone and damage your soul just as much as if they had used the killing curse. There were plenty of examples of 'so-called' light wizards who became addicted to power.
Prongs agreed with him and said, "Magic isn't good or bad Prongslet. Magic is neutral and needs to be respected and you should mind your motives when casting spells."
Hearing the marauders, Remus or Sirius use pet names for him, always lifted his spirits. Harry remembered how the Dursleys always called him a freak. For a long time, he actually thought that was his name. His aunt had been embarrassed when an adult had noticed him trying to hide behind his fat cousin, and kindly asked his name. Shyly he had said answered, "Freak."
Embarrassed, his aunt made sure he knew his name after that. She even spent the five minutes it took to teach him to write it. 'Harry Potter.' He remembered looking at it written for the first time. He was four? That was when he had made the sign, 'Harry's Room.' The day he had learned that his name was Harry and not Freak.
Harry looked around the warm and inviting home that more, and more felt like his and moved to start making breakfast. He hadn't been allowed to cook much since coming here, but he knew his limits and was trusted not to burn the house down.
While the sausages were frying he began chopping onions, potatoes, bell peppers, garlic, and parsley. He enjoyed cooking, especially if he got to eat too. The potato skillet went on the stove and he cracked eggs into a bowl whisking together cream and cheese. So engrossed was he in his task that he didn't notice a second set of hands at his elbow. Neville grabbed a knife and started slicing the bread.
"You're up early," Neville noted, taking in his friend's demeanor and finding him difficult to read.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Couldn't sleep."
Neville buttered the bread quietly, "Yeah. Me too."
Harry laughed, "I couldn't sleep because you were snoring so loud! And the marauders too. I spent half the night with a pillow over my head."
Neville blushed then grinned, "My mum snored too." Harry just shook his head and smiled as he rotated the sausage and started cooking the eggs in a skillet.
"Where did you learn to cook?" Neville asked.
The food already looked amazing, and the smell was even better. Neville was pretty sure their families house-elves could take a few lessons from Harry.
Harry shrugged. "My aunt taught me."
He frowned slightly, the memory surfacing unbidden—standing on a chair, barely tall enough to reach the counter, while his aunt showed him how to cook. She hadn't been warm or loving, but strangely, he recalled that they had both seemed to enjoy those lessons in their own way.
She had taught him how to crack an egg properly, how to marry flavors, how to spice food just right. Sautéing, baking, frying, stewing—she had drilled it all into him. And Harry had wanted to learn. He had hoped, in some small way, that it would make her happy.
She had seemed happy enough to teach him.
But in the end, the Dursleys would eat his cooking, Petunia would get the compliments, and Harry would eat whatever was left—if there was any.
"But it was my grandmother who taught her and my mum how to cook," Harry added after a beat. "So… whatever she knew, my mum knew too."
Neville nodded, "I guess it's the same with my gardening skills." Neville put the bread in the oven to warm and started setting the table. "Are you nervous?" Addressing the elephant in the room.
Harry nodded, "A bit. You?"
Neville nodded wryly, "A bit. I'm glad we're going together. I'd be really nervous otherwise."
Harry grinned. "Yeah. Me too. I didn't even know magic was real until a month ago. Can you believe it?"
Neville shook his head with a small smile as Harry moved the food to the table. Just as they finished, Sirius and Remus entered the kitchen, stopping short at the sight before them.
Both Marauders gaped.
Remus was the first to move, scooping Harry into a warm, heartfelt hug. "Thanks, boys. This looks amazing." He took in the spread, appreciating the effort they had put into the meal. A rush of affection swelled in his chest.
And beneath it, a familiar ache.
He was really going to miss them. With Harry leaving for Hogwarts—and Sirius also leaving—he felt the sharp sting of abandonment, though he knew it wasn't fair to think of it that way.
Still, he couldn't entirely push down the envy curling in his gut. Sirius—who had never wanted to teach a day in his life—was returning to Hogwarts, while Remus, who had dreamed of teaching forever, remained behind.
Life had a cruel sense of irony sometimes.
His gaze moved to Sirius, who had moved to help Neville with the tea and coffee—a foul drink that Lily had introduced them to. Sirius loved the stuff. Remus grinned as he remembered how Sirius had dragged them all to Muggle London after they had gotten Neville's wand to hunt for something called espresso. They'd surprisingly found a place advertising it, and Sirius had ordered four large mochas with extra whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. The drinks had been delicious, he had to admit, but once the caffeine hit Harry and Neville's young systems, all hell broke loose.
But whatever swill Sirius conjured up in that French press of his was nowhere near the delicious chocolate drink they'd had that day in Muggle London.
Shaking off the memory, Remus focused on the feast the boys had prepared. Sirius caught his eye and gave him a look before addressing Harry. "So, Harry, I've got something for you. Neville, it's only right and good that you know about this too." Sirius pulled something from his robes wrapped in cloth and handed it to Harry.
Harry unwrapped the package and revealed a circular hand mirror. One side of the mirror was polished silver, with a regal-looking stag in relief on the surface. The hand mirror was just slightly larger than his palm.
"This is a communication mirror, Harry. The Marauders had them made so we could stay in touch and get away with pranks during detentions." Harry raised an eyebrow. "I know, we were weird. But… back to the mirrors. This one belonged to your dad. I have one, and Moony has one too. If you ever need to contact us, for any reason, all you need to do is tap your wand to the mirror and say our Marauder name. Your mirror is set to Prongs. Sorry, we couldn't change it. Mine is Padfoot, and Remus's is Moony."
"You'll feel the mirror warm and vibrate if any of us is trying to contact you," Sirius continued. "Just tap it with your wand to answer. We'll be able to see and hear each other. Keep it with you always, Harry."
"Wicked," Harry said, holding the mirror as if it were a fragile artifact. Neville nodded in agreement.
"You made these?" Neville asked, clearly impressed.
Remus nodded. "One of several items we created for our mischief-making. You both should feel free to contact us for any reason." Both boys nodded and exchanged smiles. Harry suddenly felt better knowing he wouldn't be completely cut off from his guardians.
Harry and Neville thanked them both, then finished breakfast. The dishes were cleaned, and it was time to leave.
They used the Floo Network to get to Grimmauld Place and then walked from there to King's Cross Station. Hedwig had already been sent ahead to the castle. Remus had shrunk the boys' trunks, which he would enlarge once they were on the train.
When they passed through the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾, Harry and Neville both stared in open-mouthed wonder. The scarlet Hogwarts Express awaited them, looking more magnificent than Harry had imagined.
Steam billowed from the engine, and dozens of people milled about. Parents huddled with their Hogwarts-bound children, offering last-minute words of encouragement and admonitions to be good. Harry noticed a few tearful goodbyes, likely from first-year students leaving home for the first time. He felt a sudden rush of empathetic understanding and was struck with the bizarre urge to throw himself onto the platform, refuse to board, and throw a tantrum the size of Dudley's.
Sirius and Remus stood on either side of the boys protectively. "Right. Let's help you boys find a compartment and get your luggage on board," Remus suggested. Harry nodded, letting himself be gently ushered onto the train. They found a compartment with two young female students who looked to be first years as well.
"May we join you?" Harry asked the girls, the first compartment they had found with room for both of them.
"Yes, of course!" A strawberry-blond girl in pigtails smiled and moved to sit next to the other girl, allowing Harry and Neville to take the bench across from them. Remus removed the luggage, enlarging the trunks with a flick of his wand, while Sirius levitated them onto the racks above.
Harry and Neville stood awkwardly for a moment before Sirius pulled Harry into a tight embrace and whispered in his ear. "Don't forget to call us. And if you hate it, you can always come home." Sirius' voice was hoarse, thick with emotion, which only added to the whirl of feelings inside Harry. But he felt comforted, knowing it was okay to feel this way.
Harry nodded, his throat tight with emotion, unable to speak. Remus then hugged Harry warmly and shook Neville's hand. "Remember, study hard, but don't forget to have fun. Finally, Remus dragged Sirius away, and Harry went to sit down, staring hard out of the window. Neville, covering for his friend's obvious distress, took the opportunity to introduce himself and Harry to the girls. "Hello. I'm Neville Longbottom, and this is Harry Potter."
Both girls blinked in astonishment at the dark-haired boy staring glumly out the window. "Harry? Harry Potter?" the brown-haired girl asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
Neville glanced at Harry, who tore himself away from his thoughts long enough to remember his manners. He nodded at the girl. "Yes, Harry Potter." He smiled faintly, trying to put the conversation at ease. "Nice to meet you. And you are?" he asked quietly.
"I'm Hannah Abbott, and this is Susan Bones," the brown-haired girl introduced, pointing to the girl with the pigtails.
Harry thought he recognized Susan's surname and, trying to break the ice, asked, "Are you related to Madam Bones of the DMLE?"
Susan nodded, sitting up proudly. "She's my auntie."
Harry smiled slightly, "My godfather had a trial with her. She made it possible for me to live with him. I owe her a lot." He hesitated before adding, "Sirius even made a bet with his solicitor that she'd become Minister of Magic within ten years."
Susan blushed but smiled at Harry, clearly surprised that the famous savior of the wizarding world knew her aunt. "Really? Well, that's... that's pretty cool."
Neville then looked at Hannah and smiled shyly at her.
"Hi, Hannah. Are you excited about Hogwarts?" he asked, his voice quiet but friendly.
Hannah smiled back at the sandy-haired boy, grateful to be included in the conversation. "Yeah, I'm really excited. I've been dreaming about it for ages!" she said, her eyes brightening.
The four first years nervously chatted together, their conversation meandering between the excitement of Hogwarts and their shared uncertainties, before the train gave a lurch and a long, mournful whistle as it began to pull away from the station.
Harry watched as Platform 9 ¾ grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a giant black dog running alongside the train, keeping pace just below his window for a while. It barked loudly, and Harry thought he saw the dog's eyes meet his for a brief moment before the train finally outpaced it, leaving the animal far behind.
Neville, noticing Harry's distracted expression, gave him a reassuring bump on the shoulder, trying to draw him out of his thoughts. "Hey, you alright?" he asked softly.
Harry forced a tight smile and nodded, trying to push aside the sadness of leaving Sirius, Remus, and his home behind. He focused on his friend instead, taking comfort in Neville's presence. "Yeah. Thanks," he said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of lingering sadness.
Neville suddenly said, "Oh, it's a Bowtruckle," bringing Harry's attention back to Neville as he proudly showed Hannah and Susan his new friend.
Harry grinned at Neville, who had somehow managed to befriend the tree guardian. The creature, about the size of Neville's hand, resembled a Preying Mantis with twig-like fingers and sharp, intelligent eyes. It was small, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that the Bowtruckle was a protector, a little bodyguard for Neville.
Harry remembered the first time he had seen it.
Neville and Harry had gone to the Longbottom pond shortly after Neville had received his wand, and Neville had wanted to show Harry the Bowtruckle. The creature, a delicate insect-like thing, had scurried up Neville's arm as soon as he held his wand out, inspecting it carefully, as if testing it for any flaws.
When Neville tried to return the creature to the tree, it dug its claws into Neville's cloak and refused to go. It had evaded every attempt, clinging to Neville like a tiny, stubborn guardian. It was almost as if the creature was testing Neville's intentions, making sure he was a worthy keeper.
"I think it likes you, Neville," Harry had said with a grin, watching the Bowtruckle wrap itself tightly around Neville's sleeve as if it would never let go.
Neville had agreed. "I think you're right, Harry."
After that, the boys had rushed to tell Remus and Sirius about the Bowtruckle. Neither of them had ever heard of a Bowtruckle being kept as a pet, but after observing how attached the creature seemed to Neville, they had deemed it safe. They'd helped Neville set up a terrarium with leftover branches from the Rowan tree the Bowtruckle had come from.
When Neville had been worried about bringing it to Hogwarts, Remus and his grandmother had worked their magic, ensuring the Bowtruckle was allowed. Trevor the toad, unfortunately, had been set free into the pond, looking entirely too pleased with his newfound freedom.
Hannah's eyes widened as she saw the Bowtruckle. "Oh, he's adorable! What's his name?"
"Wiggy," Neville said proudly, with a grin. "He's named after the tree he comes from." He told the girls how he had befriended the Bowtruckle and how his wand had been crafted from the very branch Wiggy had gifted him.
Wiggy chirped softly, eyeing the girls with suspicion, clearly testing their intentions. When Hannah reached out a hand to pet him, the Bowtruckle swatted it away with a sharp tap, as if to say, Not so fast.
"Hey!" Hannah laughed, pulling her hand back in surprise.
Neville chuckled nervously. "Sorry about that. He does that with anyone who tries to get too close."
"Does he always do that?" Susan asked, fascinated.
"Pretty much," Neville replied, shrugging with a grin. "I think he just wants to make sure you're not a threat to me."
Hannah smiled, clearly charmed. "Well, I guess I passed the test, then?"
Wiggy made a soft clicking noise, as if agreeing, and seemed to relax a little, allowing the girls to get closer.
The rest of the journey passed in an easy conversation about Hogwarts, with Neville happily sharing the story of how he and Wiggy had become fast friends. Harry was grateful for the distraction—Wiggy's antics had kept the focus off him and spared him from the usual "Boy Who Lived" questions.
Halfway through the journey, the door to their compartment slid open, and a trio of boys peered in with curiosity. "We were told Harry Potter was on the train. Is it true? Are you Harry Potter?" The haughty gray-eyed boy gave Harry a look that lingered on his lightning bolt scar. His platinum blond hair and the spoiled brat aura he gave off instantly reminded Harry of Dudley. Harry immediately disliked him and his attitude, but Remus's etiquette lessons were helping him keep his temper in check.
Harry stood and faced them, forcing himself to ignore the anxiety clawing at his insides. "I am." He looked from face to face, not paying much attention to the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. "And may I ask who you are?"
"I'm Draco Malfoy," the blond said with an arrogant tilt of his chin. "This is Crabbe and Goyle." He gestured to his two hulking companions, who nodded silently, looming over the others. They reminded Harry strongly of Dudley's goons. He didn't like them much either.
Neville stood up next, moving to Harry's elbow, his stance polite but slightly defensive. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Goyle." Harry could sense Neville's discomfort but continued to hold his ground. He poured it on a bit thicker than necessary but pressed forward despite his own nerves. He then turned and introduced his friends, "May I introduce my friends, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones." The last part had Harry feeling a bit unsure—he didn't know if he should be calling them friends since they had only just met, but the girls seemed pleasantly surprised to be included.
Neville reached across the compartment and shook hands with all three of the boys, following Harry's lead. The girls only nodded at them in greeting, their expressions polite but reserved. "Nice to meet you," Susan said with a cool smile.
Soon, Harry and Neville returned to their seats, and they tried to resume their conversation with the girls. However, it wasn't long before Draco and his entourage decided they'd had enough. After a few more pointed glances at Harry, they left, likely eager to brag about meeting the famous "Boy Who Lived" to someone else.
As soon as they were gone, Neville smirked at Harry. "Bet they weren't expecting you to treat them like that. It's no secret the Malfoys don't like the Potters, and they aren't exactly friends of the Longbottoms either," Neville said with a darker tone.
Susan nodded in agreement. "The Malfoys have a pretty dark reputation. They always seem to get away with everything. Auntie says the only reason Lucius Malfoy isn't in prison is because of his money."
Neville grunted, "Gran says the same thing. They've got too much influence, and it lets them do whatever they want."
Harry hadn't heard much about Draco's family, but he made a mental note to store the information. He thought, for the moment, he'd managed to avoid making a powerful enemy, and—thanks to Remus's insistence on proper manners—he was able to navigate the encounter without embarrassing himself. For the first time, he found himself genuinely grateful for those etiquette lessons.
Shortly after Draco and his minions had left, their compartment door slid open once again. A girl Harry and Neville both recognized stood in the doorway. "Wotcher Harry? Wotcher Neville?" She greeted them with a grin. The girl had bubblegum pink hair, a heart-shaped face, and pretty blue-gray eyes. Harry blinked at her in surprise before returning her lighthearted smile. Her cheerful demeanor was a welcome change from the recent tension.
The train took a sharp turn, sending Tonks stumbling headfirst into the compartment. She landed face-first onto the floor with a soft thud. "I'm alright!" she called, sitting up and rubbing her nose, a playful sigh escaping her lips. "Damn feet," she muttered as her hair suddenly transformed from pink to a bright red, a clear sign of her mood shifting from surprised to amused.
Harry had spent some time talking to his guardians and the Marauders about the people who had been at the Potter will reading. Tonks had particularly piqued his interest—being a Hogwarts student and a metamorphmagus. Additionally, Harry had recently learned that his paternal grandmother was related to Andromeda Tonks, and by extension, Tonks herself. He'd discovered that she was part of the Black family, and though the connection was distant, it made her family a little less of a mystery to him.
Both Neville and Harry rushed to help Tonks to her feet, and Harry instinctively placed a hand on her arm to steady her. She flashed him a grateful grin. "Thanks," she said with a wink, as though her tumble hadn't phased her in the least.
After making sure she was steady, Harry introduced her to the girls. "This is Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott," he said. The girls gave her polite nods, clearly intrigued by her eccentric appearance.
Tonks's eyes sparkled as she turned to Harry. "So you're a seventh-year, right? In Hufflepuff House?" Harry asked, recalling the information he'd gathered from his recent conversations.
"Yeah, seventh-year. Hufflepuff through and through," Tonks confirmed with a grin. "It's a good house, you know. The badger's all about loyalty and hard work." Her voice held an enthusiastic tone.
Tonks grinned impishly. "Yep." She plopped down with the first years and continued, "So, I've got something for you, Harry." She handed him a letter, the envelope sealed with a delicate wax stamp. "It's from my mother. She wanted me to give it to you." Her smile softened a bit. "I'm afraid she's also a bit miffed with your godfather."
Harry nodded, recalling a conversation between Sirius and Remus about Andromeda Tonks. Sirius had been deeply hurt that Andromeda had believed him capable of murder, a wound that hadn't yet healed. Remus had tried to reason with him, explaining that the whole magical world had thought he was guilty. But Sirius remained stubborn, even when Remus had pointed out that he had forgiven him, despite once believing the same thing.
"Yeah, I think Sirius will forgive your mum soon. I mean, Remus is working on it," Harry replied, his voice full of understanding. "A lot of people didn't believe in him or give him a chance to explain." Harry felt the need to defend his godfather, who had been unjustly vilified for too long.
Tonks nodded sympathetically. "Oh, I get it. Believe me. I just... maybe you could put in a good word for her? I know she wants to make amends."
Harry nodded, a small frown forming at the thought of his godfather's strained relationships. But Tonks quickly changed the subject, clearly eager to lighten the mood. "But enough with the heavy stuff. What house are you hoping for?" she asked, noticing the girls were paying more attention to the conversation than perhaps was strictly necessary.
Both Hannah and Susan eagerly told Tonks they were hoping for Hufflepuff. Harry and Neville, without hesitation, both said Gryffindor. Tonks smiled at their certainty but avoided answering when they asked her how they were sorted. "Can't tell you that," she teased. "That's for you to figure out on your own."
The conversation shifted to lighter topics as they shared sweets from the trolley. Tonks declined a second helping, standing up after a few minutes. "I'd better get back to my friends before they think I fell off the train." She grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "You'll want to put on your robes soon, we're almost there."
With a final mischievous wink, she slipped out of the compartment, leaving the first years to chat. Harry and Neville lingered outside the door while Susan and Hannah changed into their robes, returning the courtesy when it was their turn. The familiar rustling of robes, the last vestiges of summer uniforms discarded in favor of Hogwarts' uniformity, seemed to signal the nearing end of their journey.
Neville gave his friend a grin, noticing that Harry, who had been plagued by homesickness at the beginning of the journey, had thrown it off and—despite himself—had begun to enjoy the ride. "Hannah was nice," Neville confided, his voice quiet but warm.
Harry raised an eyebrow and shot him a teasing look. "Yeah?"
Neville blushed, suddenly realizing what Harry was implying, and quickly shook his head. "No! I mean not like that!" His voice scrambled over the words, and Harry burst out laughing.
"Relax, Nev. I'm kidding. They both were very nice," Harry reassured him, nudging his shoulder lightly.
Neville grinned sheepishly, relieved but still a little flustered. Harry's teasing always made him feel like a fish out of water, but there was something comfortable about it, something that made him feel like he belonged.
About fifteen minutes later, they found themselves at Hogsmeade Station, and Hagrid ushered them into small boats for the final leg of their journey to Hogwarts. The chilly night air brushed against their faces, the sound of oars cutting through water filling the silence as they were ferried across the lake.
The two boys stared, awestruck, at the towering Hogwarts castle, its many spires glittering in the soft glow of enchanted lights. It looked like a beacon, glowing warmly against the darkness, its silhouette framed against the night sky—a symbol of everything they had hoped for and everything that awaited them.
Harry couldn't help but think, just for a moment, that he might wake up and find himself back in the cupboard under the stairs. But then he took in the view again, and the moment passed. This was real. This was his life now.
He shared a knowing look with Neville, who leaned over and whispered, "I think I'm going to be sick."
Harry chuckled softly, squeezing his shoulder. "Just breathe, Neville. We got this." Harry took his own advice and breathed in the magic.