The Boy who lived and The Boy who survived (Drarry)

Chapter 60: The Trail

Present Day. Unknown Place.

Harry slowly blinked awake. He expected himself to be in Grimmauld again and was shocked to discover his surroundings when he sat up in bed.

It was odd.

He was at Hogwarts.

He swung his foot off the four-poster bed and looked around the room. He recognised it as his old room in first year when he was still at Hogwarts. Hanging loosely in the open closet next to his bed, he recognised Molly Weasley's Christmas jumper and laughed heartily at the sight of it, taking it down from the hanger. He wondered if it still fit him. He stroked the gold letter H embedded on the navy wool. He looked around for the third time. There was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed and they looked like Christmas presents.

He had to be dreaming. This had to be another dream.

He walked towards the windowsill and drew open the blinds. The sky dimly lit as the sunlight from the sunrise shone through. He looked back around the room, and at the other four-poster beds where Ron and the rest of his roommates in first year had originally spelt and found them all to be empty. Sighing and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, he got out of the room, his hand still clenching the Weasley sweater.

Making his way down to the common room, the castle was eerily quiet, and what's more, all the damage done to it from the war had seemed to never have happened. He reached the end of the spiral staircase and came across a landing with a view of the common room just below him. The fire was lit, and beside it was a Christmas tree, just like the one in the common room in first year. He shook his head and blinked. It wasn't even Christmas.

Questions started spiralling in his head as he made his way down.

Why was he here?

Was this a dream?

Did he travel back in time?

He stopped in his tracks by the time he made his way down to stand in front of the fire. The flames providing warm heat for Harry. A figure from the corner of his eye caught him by surprise and he turned to face it.

He nearly dropped at seeing who was sitting in the armchair.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"It's good to see you, Harry." The professor smiled at him but shook his head. "But I'm not Dumbledore."

"You're not?" Harry stepped back, confused and looked around the room. "And what about all of this? It's not real?"

Not-Dumbledore only answered with a small smile and stood from his armchair. He walked closer towards Harry, putting his hand fondly on his shoulder and smiled warmly at him.

"How do you feel being back here?" Not-Dumbledore said. 

Harry looked around the common room again. It was the striking image of Christmas Day back when he was still in his first year. Ron's chocolate frog wrappers scattered among the carpets, Hermione's Christmas present laying on the coffee table between the two armchairs. Seamus' chess set next to hers. Harry smiled fondly at the memory and had almost forgotten what it felt like before the war. What it felt like being a kid. He just wishes Draco was here.

"I feel..." Harry stepped away and he didn't realise it, but he was crying. "I feel happy... but ... sad."

"We thought you'd be more comfortable talking to someone who looked familiar..." Not- Dumbledore said with a smile. "... and in a place you knew."

"We?" Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Who's 'we' exactly?"

"That's a little hard to explain." Not- Dumbledore made his way towards the armchair again and sat down. He gestured to the other one and looked at Harry. "Sit down, Harry."