Harry Potter walked through the giant castle doors and took a deep breath through his nose.
Home.
The trunks in his arms were pulled out of his grasp by house elves that scurried about his feet, welcoming him, offering him teas and cakes, asking if there was anything they could do for him. He politely dismissed them, "I would just like to settle in my office for the time being, thank you." Winky, with her wispy silver hairs and large, bulbous eyes, bowed to him respectively, then rushed all the other elves off. He nodded thankfully at her, and she smiled, curtsying her little beige dress to him, before sauntering off after the rest.
He found himself crossing paths with the first years, and he followed them up the stairs and to the double-doors of the great hall. Their Herbology professor was there at the top of the stairs, greeting them warmly. When he noticed Harry, he beamed, raising his arm in an excited wave. "Harry! You're finally here, welcome back!" Every single eye in the staircase turned to face him, and all of the usual hushed gasps and whispered excitement buzzed around in his ears. He blushed, raising a hand back to him. "Howdy, Neville! Thanks for...that." He laughed warmly as Neville smiled apologetically, trying to wrangle his first years' attentions back to him.
Twenty years since he'd left school and still, he could never quite escape his reputation. He was the boy who killed Voldemort twice, now, and it seemed he still couldn't get used to the fame. He waved a dismissive goodbye to Neville and the kids, and set off towards his office. Walking the halls of Hogwarts again was like visiting a memory, and his feet remembered what his aging mind was starting to forget. He found his way outside of a familiar door. One that once belonged to one Quirrel, one Lockhart, one Lupin, one Moody (or rather, Crouch Junior), one Umbridge, and one Severus Snape. He took a long, steadying breath, and let himself in.
The office was much the same as he'd remembered it, only bare. There were no posters of dark, magical creatures, or bottles of body parts floating about in various liquids. Thankfully, there was no pink wallpaper or kitten imagery. Just a couple of framed portraits in a beige room, with beige leather furniture, and a large brown desk at the center of it all. A short spiral staircase led to the bedroom, where his bags were surely already placed and unpacked, but he found himself walking behind the desk and seating himself.
A teacher. Professor Potter. It was hard to believe it, and even sitting here behind the desk at the age of 36, he still felt like a school boy doing something naughty rather than a grown man preparing for his career. He lounged back in his chair, trying to get comfortable, while he berated himself for not going to Diagon Alley and buying any supplies. He was about to teach his first class in twelve hours, and he didn't even have a scrap of parchment to his name. Idiot. He'd pop over to Diagon Alley firs thing in the morning and ask Hermione to watch his class in his absence. She was sure he'd screw up his first day and he wasn't looking forward to telling her she was right...but she'd taken the day off for him, after all. He wasn't putting her out. In fact, he was giving her an opportunity to gloat, which even in her 30s was her favorite thing to do.
"Ahh...Mister Potter...." A slow, drawling voice sounded from behind him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He did, however, fall out of his chair. Standing up and fixing his spectacles, he turned to face the portrait hung behind the desk and was faced with none other than Severus Snape.
"Still just as sharp as the last time I saw you. I don't know what I expected." Harry scowled, "And you're still as oily. Did they use your hair as the base for the paint?"
Snape's mouth curled into a sneer and a boisterous laugh sounded from the other wall. Harry turned to see Remus Lupin beaming down at him. "Watch out, Snivellus. He's just like James, you know."
"Yes.... I know...." Still sneering.
"Harry," Remus said softly, "let me have a look at you."
Harry approached the portrait and Remus smiled down at him, putting his hand to the painting like it was a thin window he desperately wanted to reach out from. "You're so like your father. But older," he added, musing; "except for the--"
"Eyes." Snape interrupted, sounding bored. "Yes, we've all heard it."
Harry and Remus shared a chuckle, while Snape fell silent again. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, hm?" He asked him, nodding approvingly. "I can't say I didn't see this coming. After your Dumbledore's Army, having a curriculum-based class will be easy for you. This was your calling."
"I thought so too, until I realized I forgot parchment, quills, ink...."
"Well, we wouldn't want to deny Miss Granger something to do, would we?"
"It's Mrs. Weasley, now."
"Ah, of course it is. I'll give her my congratulations in the morning."
The room fell into a comfortable silence. Or as comfortable as one could be while blatantly ignoring the mutterings of a portrait, anyway. While Snape cursed to himself about having to live with 'that insufferable Potter' for the next year, a thought occurred to Harry.
"Oh, have you seen James yet? He's my esldest, starting his second year, and he never mentioned seeing you."
"Oh no, my boy, Minerva just hung us in here this morning. She thought you could use the company."
"Why'd she bring him?" He jerked his thumb at Snape, not bothering to look in his direction.
"Myself as well, Mr. Potter. I relented, but she told me to 'stuff it you old snake, or I'll throw you in the fiend fyre closet.'"
Yeah, that sounded like her. Harry made the mental note to greet her as soon as he was able.
"Oh! Shoot, I'm late for dinner. I have to go. I don't want to miss Albus' sorting."
Snape snorted, and Harry was sure he saw mucus drying on the paint when he turned to look at him. "Of course you named him Albus. Your hero worship didn't die with him, did it Potter. Pitiful. That little scab wound will never live up to his name, not with your blood in his veins."
"Ask me his middle name."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Ask me his middle name."
"I don't believe I will," Snape sniffed.
"I know you want to."
"Not particularly."
"You're not even a little curious now I've brought it up?"
"No."
"Fine. I'm going to dinner. I'll see you lot in a bit."
Harry strode towards the door of his office, mentally recalling the steps it took to get here from the Great Hall so he could make his way back without making a wrong turn anywhere. Snape and Lupin had begin squabbling about something behind him and as he stepped out of his door, he looked over his shoulder and called out, "It's Severus."
"I expect to be called Professor Snape, Potter, I don't care how old--"
"No, Professor. My son's middle name. It's Severus."
Harry laughed to himself as he closed the door behind him, leaving Snape's stunned silence in his wake. He was sure he'd have to continue that conversation at a later time, but for now, he just wanted to see his son be sorted, and keep his brother from booing if Slytherin was called.