Chapter Text
“And here,” McGonagall said as she pointed to the doors with her hand, “will be your room, Mr. Potter.”
Harry nodded, his eyes trained on the normal-looking, brown, wooden door. He stepped closer, reaching out; a warm click filled the silence as the lock opened without a key. Harry pressed his hand to the cold doorknob and with a light push the door opened.
“Welcome, Professor Potter,” McGonagall said behind him as Harry stared in amazement at rooms—his rooms—that he would be occupying through the year. Years, if he was lucky and if the students ended up liking him and if—
He bit the inside of his cheek, turning towards the witch that might just have given him another go at his life. “Thank you, Headmistress. I really appreciate it.”
McGonagall gave him a smile and patted him on the arm as if she was still just his teacher. She looked at him, into his soul, Harry thought, as if she knew how fucked up he was, but didn’t judge, only acknowledged.
“The Sorting ceremony is tomorrow at 6pm. Please be on time.” With a last pat and a gentle squeeze to his arm, she left, the robes fluttering behind her.
Harry took a steadying breath and walked inside.
The rooms were spacious and cosy: the sitting room had two comfortable looking armchairs and a fireplace that was high enough Harry wouldn’t have to kneel on the floor to talk to his friends. There was a bathtub—a working one, take that Grimmauld—and his room had a king-sized four poster. The bed was bigger than the corner he got at the Auror’s office, desk and chair included.
Harry sat down, checking the mattress if it’s comfortable. He closed his eyes and it felt like, for the first time in years, he was home.