Hermione Granger sat stiffly on the plump velvet armchair in the Gryffindor common room, her movements impatient. She was ready, her books neatly tucked into her bag. Beside her, Ginny was equally ready.
They had been waiting for Ron and Neville to join them for breakfast at the Great Hall for nearly twenty minutes, the morning light already streaming cheerfully through the high windows, and still the boys were not here yet.
Hermione sighed. "Honestly, boys," she muttered, exasperation tightening her voice. "Why can't they ever wake up early and be ready for once? It's basic scheduling!"
It was like this almost every day, and she knew who was the one responsible for this, even when he was supposed to be a perfect and example to the younger ones, it felt like he was the one who should be learning from them.
Ginny, perched on the arm of the couch, just giggled, clearly amused by her complaints. "Ron must've slept in again. Poor Neville." Her grin widened, hinting at the long-suffering knowledge of a sister who was used to the antics of her brother.
"You know how it is, unless someone physically drags him out of bed, he'll sleep till noon. Poor Neville's probably fighting for his life in there, just trying to wake the lazy git up before the sun sets."
Hermione couldn't help the small, reluctant laugh that escaped her. Still, she was about to launch into a fresh complaint about punctuality and the lack of discipline among male Gryffindors when her words caught in her throat. Her jaw dropped slightly, and her eyes went wide, fixed on a spot behind Ginny.
"...What on earth—?"
Ginny, alerted by Hermione's sudden, breathy silence, turned, following her friend's frozen line of sight. Her own mouth fell open, her previous amusement vanishing instantly, replaced by sheer shock.
There, right there, walking down from the boys' dormitory staircase, was Harry James Freaking Potter.
He was very much there, very much not a hallucination that she was sure of, and, most bizarrely, he was acting like he'd simply slept past his alarm, not like he had vanished for days. He stretched hugely, scratching his perpetually messy hair as he yawned.
The common room, which had been buzzing with the usual early morning chatter of students, went instantly silent.
Every head snapped toward him. Whispers of his return, and she could understand, I mean, who just vanishes and then reappears days later, acting like everything was still normal, especially with the news of what he was going around.
Harry ignored the sudden attention. He made his way toward the two girls before plopping down on the couch right next to Hermione. He adjusted himself comfortably, letting out another deep, satisfied exhale, and offered them a lazy grin.
"Hey, Hermione. Morning, Ginny."
Hermione's internal state was in chaos, a whirlwind of relief, volcanic anger, confusion, and a frantic, desperate urge to throw her arms around him and hold him tight to ensure he was solid.
"You absolute idiot," her mind screamed. She forced her arms to cross tightly over her chest, settling instead on a fierce, sustained glare. She knew she had to allow Ginny to lead, if she started asking her questions, Harry wouldn't get a chance to answer any of them.
"Hey? Hey? Harry!" Ginny practically shrieked, leaping to her feet, her own red hair seeming to bristle. "Where have you been?"
Harry blinked at her, the sudden volume barely fazing him. He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish, but unmistakably relaxed, laugh. "Oh, sorry. I went out for a stroll."
Hermione's eye twitched violently at the sheer audacity of the understatement, and she saw the same vein beginning to pop on Ginny's temple.
"A stroll?" Ginny repeated, her voice incredulous, rising in pitch with every word, definitely her mother's daughter, alright. "A stroll? You vanished for days, days, Harry, and you're telling us you went out for a stroll?!"
Harry laughed again, a deeper sound than usual, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, tone down the glare, would you? You're going to burn holes through me."
Hermione studied his face more closely, ignoring the weak joke. He looked the same physically, at least, same glasses, same scar, same build, but she felt something different from him.
Even different from the subtle change she had noted when they met up at Grimmauld Place. The familiar knot of tension that always seemed to cling to Harry was gone.
It had been replaced by an almost unnerving sense of lightness that she had never seen in him before. His eyes still held that familiar spark of mischief, but now it was layered with an unfamiliar calmness.
His laughter, too, was open, bright, and completely carefree, a sound she hadn't truly heard from him since before, not to say that she thought his usual laughs were fake or something, but this was different, it felt different, like hearing a little kid laugh, an innocence there that you'd hardly hear in teens or adults.
Harry leaned back, completely at ease, as if lounging in a sunbeam. "I went out to talk with Sirius and....Narcissa Malfoy."
Hermione suddenly found herself talking. "...Why were you talking to Malfoy's mum?" she asked, her expression a mix of distaste and confusion. Sure, sure, she hadn't met Draco's mother officially before, only once at the Quidditch Cup a year ago, but after knowing both father and son, she had grown a distaste for all things Malfoy.
Harry smiled, amused at her distaste. "Well, it has been a while since I came to the wizarding world. It just felt rude not to say hello to my cousin," he said with an innocent smile that would have fooled others.
Both girls exchanged a look and gave him the exact same flat, raised-brow expression that clearly said, 'Save the sarcasm, we're serious.'
"Okay, okay," he chuckled, conceding. "I wanted to talk about the matter of the house."
"House?" Hermione pressed.
He nodded. "Yes. Seeing that I am the new Lord Black, Narcissa wanted to discuss with me about her continuous stay as a daughter of house black. She didn't wish to be disowned, and frankly, I wasn't going to anyway, but she didn't know that, and I needed something from her."
This earned a genuinely surprised look from both girls. Hermione understood a little of what Harry was saying. Having spent a bit of time studying pureblood traditions from some of the books in the library, she knew that being formally cast out of the Ancient and Noble House of Black was a catastrophic social disaster for someone of Narcissa's standing and all the advantages she could lose if he was cast out.
"But that still shouldn't have taken days, Harry," Hermione stated, her voice returning with a sharp tone.
"No, you are correct," he shook his head, the lightness momentarily fading. "We actually didn't finish the meeting. Something else came up. A Heretic God." He said the last two words seriously.
"Another one?" Hermione said, practically vibrating with a mix of fear for her friend and excitement and academic fascination. Harry was back, which meant he was safe, but the mention of a God instantly shifted her focus from scolding to data collection.
She was fascinated by these things, and she wanted to know more.
"Who was it? What kind of magic did they use? What did they look like? What was their mythos? Were there any associated artifacts or Knights? How did you—" she stopped abruptly, realizing she was spiraling into a torrent of breathless, rapid-fire questions.
Ginny leaned back against the couch, rubbing her temples. "Breathe, Hermione," she said to the girl.
The conversation officially steered away from the original matter of Harry being a colossal idiot."
Later that morning, as Harry walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, he could hear the immediate notice of him and the increase in the noise level.
Some of these people were not even bothering to whisper.
He sighed. He knew the reason, of course. He hadn't bothered with breakfast because he hadn't wanted to deal with this initial circus.
Of course, if he wanted, he could simply leave, leave Hogwarts, and no one could stop him, but he had chosen to stay, chosen to continue this boring, grounding school life. So, it was his fault for dealing with the fallout.
Especially with the news of him being a campione now out in the open, and likely everyone knew what he was already.
He walked to his seat, feeling the collective gaze of the entire class, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, on his back. He sat down, ignoring the buzzing, and placed his head on his folded arms, attempting to simulate the nap he probably should have taken instead of wasting his time talking with that brain dead moron of a so called brother. Doni.
The conversation they had after that idiot woke up was not something he wanted to remember right now.
Then the door opened again, and he felt the whispers reduce to almost nothing. Harry lifted his head.
Daphne Greengrass walked in, immaculate as always, her deep emerald robes flowing perfectly. Her cool, detached expression, a mask she rarely dropped. But for a brief moment, a wave of shock crossed her beautiful face when her eyes met his.
It was gone in an instant, ruthlessly suppressed, replaced by a sharp glare that dared him to try not explaining himself.
Harry offered a small, sheepish smile in greeting.
Daphne didn't respond, merely sitting down in her usual spot, posture ramrod straight as she faced the board and ignored him. Guess she was going to give him the silent treatment up until after class.
Before the tension could settle, the door opened again, and in came Professor Tonks this time.
The Metamorphmagus froze instantly upon seeing Harry. Her vibrant hair, which was usually a cheerful magenta or bubblegum pink, began to cycle through colors at a frantic, almost chaotic pace, pink, violet, electric blue, before finally settling on a deep, warning red.
The crimson hue of fury. Seems like someone is angry. Yikes.
Tonks' facial expression turned stony for a moment before she went back to her usual casual face, a slightly mischievous grin, you'd think she wasn't angry anymore, but the bright, dangerous red of her hair completely gave her away.
She was definitely still very, very angry.
'Oh dear,' Harry thought dryly, resting his chin on his palm. Both of my girls are not happy. They have that, 'How dare you vanish without telling me, I was worried sick, you irresponsible idiot' aura around them.'
He braced himself as Professor Tonks ignored his presence completely, walked to the front desk, and slammed her bag down, the sound echoing unnervingly in the silent room before she began teaching the lesson.
Daphne's glare hadn't softened. Tonks' hair was practically glowing throughout the entire class. Both of them seemed content to ignore him right now, well, he'd better start looking for words to say to soothe their anger.
Harry let out a soft, defeated sigh.
"Oh," he muttered under his breath, sinking lower in his seat. "This... is going to be a very, very long day."
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