_________________________<br/><br/>Harry couldn't say that he was thrilled to be here. Though Hogwarts was his earliest memory of a home, Harry had laid sleepless the first night he spent in his professor's quaters. He had been struck with a undeniable feeling of dread in the unfamiliar bedroom, unsettled by the realisation that the castle held far more secrets and undiscovered rooms than he could ever have imagined. Not only did memories of the war seem to lurk around each corner, Harry, plainly put, no longer felt like he had a place at Hogwarts. That was partially why he had yet to seat himself for breakfast.<br/>In front of him, Neville had. Though the two Gryffindors had kept in touch over the years, it was the first time Harry had actually gotten to experience Neville as<span style="font-style: italic">Professor</span>Longbottom; the sight was hard to even comprehend, and the sheer notion that Harry was supposed to join him by the high table was borderline absurd.<br/>"You're not mad at me, are you?" Neville asked with a smile, though Harry could tell there was a worry about him, Harry hadn't seen since they were teens. Harry had exchanged the bare minimum of pleasantries with the other few professors at the table, and the conversation had quickly fizzled out, as none of the senior staff had pressed Harry about his whereabouts - something Harry felt deeply grateful about.<br/>Unable to smile at the question, Harry answered with a joking jab, eyes refocusing on Neville. "I'm still deciding."<br/>Harry, too, spoke with a grin on his lips, but there was some honesty to his words; Harry<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>trying decide whether or not this had been a terrible decision, or just simply a bad one.<br/>Restlessly he shifted his stance, hands burying themselves in the pocket of his pants. He was still dressed in old canvas trousers and a cotton shirt, not able to bother himself with robes before the students' arrival this evening, let alone for breakfast. "Ask me again in a week."