𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐈

"This place is so much brighter than I remember."

Hermione let out a breathy laugh. But it wasn't funny, none of this was. "Maybe that's because the past couple times we've been here, it's been under much darker circumstances," she said.

"It hasn't changed," I replied, everything coming into focus with the steam clearing, "just brighter."

Despite my forlorn expression and poor posture, I really was happy to be back. The platform was a pinocle of my childhood that never failed to stay the same; unlike everything else.

My whole life took a one eighty turn it seemed. Years and years of none stop fighting, working, thinking, fighting, and now everything seemed to just stop.

As much as I hated it, as much as I longed for just one uneventful year at Hogwarts, fighting became the only thing I knew how to do. I became so engrossed in Voldemort and Horcruxs and avoiding death that I never really thought about the day after.

But here we were, all three of us, standing on Platform 9 3/4 gazing at the Hogwarts express.

"We should get on there, mate," Ron said, "We don't have a flying car to take this time around." He playfully nudged my arm, trying to bring back that sweet sense of nostalgia. I guess all of us were having trouble moving on.

"Just a minute," I said back to him.

I looked beyond the train, down the endless platform bustling with other returning Hogwarts students exited at finally going home, anxious first years seeing the train for the first time and wondering how on earth they were going to be away from their parents, confused muggle parents dropping off their children, gawking back to the solid brick wall in which they just walked right through as if it were nothing but air.

There were some people that I recognized too, some in younger years, some coming back in mine. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Dean and Seamus, Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Zacharias Smith, Ginny Weasly standing a couple feet away from us and hugging a sobbing Mr and Mrs Weasley.

I was glad to see that so many of us had decided to return to repeat our seventh years.

I felt a tug on my elbow, bringing me back to reality. Hermione gave me a knowing look and then gestured to the train. She and I both knew that if we stayed out here too long, the crowed that would form around us would be too thick to move anymore. Not to mention the fact that I really can't stand crowds anymore.

"Come on Harry," she said sweetly.

Not many people were actually on the train yet. It was a little early, ten thirty, and everyone seemed to be congregating outside in order to catch up with old friends. Only a few had had the same idea as us

Hermione immediately broke into a stride to the back of the train with Ron following close behind. Maybe if we hid, no one would notice.

There were some faces I knew here too, most of them being Slytherins looking to avoid a nasty confrontation from the other houses. Millicent Bulstode, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, some younger ones whom I didn't recognize. What I found peculiar was not that they had all collectively decided to return after mostly being on wrong side of the war, but the fact that they were all sitting alone. Some read books, fiddled with their wands, looked through their luggage, but no one spoke to one another.

We were almost at the back now, I thought for sure that all the compartments would be vacant, but as Ron and Hermione filed into the very last compartment, I saw a flash of white and black sitting statue-like in the one directly across from us.

To say that I was surprised to see him would be an understatement. After everything, our rivalry, the dark mark, the Manor, the battle, the Fiendfyre, his wand, the trials, I was certain that I had seen the last of him. Yet here he was, pale, clad in midnight black, staring off into space.

I must have been staring for a while, because Ron yanked my arm and pulled me beside him with a worried look on his face. I guess all summer I hadn't really been fully here.

"Ignore him, I doubt he'll try to pull anything without his daddy's protection anymore," Ron said loudly, clearly trying to make sure that Draco heard him.

I doubt he did through the closed door, or maybe he did, and ignored him.

"Yeah," I said, still looking curiously at the boy in the next compartment, "he's all alone now."