December, 7th
Magic was truly amazing. Mere four month (probably less, but Harry hasn’t seen the castle during that time) after the war, Hogwarts looked as it had all those years before, as if nothing had changed. Still so many things did.
He once had believed Hogwarts wouldn’t exist without Albus Dumbledore as Headmaster, but the school hadn’t changed its name and lessons were still carried on since he deceased.
But not only people were missing among the students and teachers. Places of the castle also seemed different, because of what he’s seen happening there, despite them being fully restored. They were haunted by painful memories, overshadowing any positive recollections of times prior.
Even looking around the Gryffindor common room dealt him sudden stabs of pain sometimes. While the tower had remained amazingly untouched, it lacked some faces that should laugh and complain about homework amongst them. Harry knew, life moved on and they all were doing their best to go along with it, but from time to time the memories became just too much.
Flames were crackling steadily in the fireplace, keeping the chilly winter temperatures away from the common room, while the noises of many people chatting or working with books and parchments bounced off from the walls.
The golden Trio had managed to claim their favoured seats by the fireside and all had some of their homework spread on the table in front of them. Hermione, of course had already filled feet-long parchments with her neat, small handwriting and Ron begrudgingly did his transfiguration essay because of the curly haired girl’s insistence. Harry had started on his as well, but didn’t get further than the headline because he had fallen in a mood.
His friends thankfully knew him well enough and could tell when that happened, so they left him in peace for the time being, unless he wanted to talk. They were glad he still remained sitting with them and didn’t wander off on his own again, like he preferred so often.
No, for now, while the other two wrote, he leaned back in his seat and switched between staring into the fire and watching them or other people in the room, while he delved in his thoughts.
At one time crookshanks had jumped on his lap and he didn’t know how or when it had gotten there, but he’d found a bag with small pieces of ham in his hand and had started to feed the Kneazle whenever the furball nudged his hand with its flat face, or petted the twitching ears.
His gaze travelled to the other side of the room, where Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Becky played a round of exploding snap, laughing when the cards went off in Seamus’ hands, singing half of his eyebrows. Ginny caught his eye and smiled at him and Harry quickly smiled back before looking back into the fire, to not make the impression of watching them (even if he was).
Doing homework and watching his friends play was something very ordinary and every-day-life. It was simultaneously insignificant compared to what they’ve been through and the most precious thing in the world.
Safety. Normalcy.
Something Harry never thought he’d ever acquire in his life.
Crookshanks nudged his hand again, but the ham pieces were all eaten up by the little tiger and so the ravenette only petted his head. Apparently Crookshanks had enough of being petted and stretched, before jumping off of his legs (he was glad to finally be able to move them again.)
Harry yawned, deciding he was too tired to give his homework another go today and to do it tomorrow. He suddenly felt cosy and contented, his mood taking a turn for the better.
Life went on and he was glad for every second.
