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To Begin Again | ||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Reconstruction Challenge (2007-5) Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 13 Summary: ** Winner of Best Overall in the Reconstruction Challenge ** Then Fred’s face flashed into his mind, grinning, laughing with George, until suddenly he lay before Harry, covered in blood and eyes drooping in eternal sleep. Other faces clouded Harry’s vision – Lupin and Tonks and little Teddy, whom they’d left behind – Hedwig, even, and Dobby – Dumbledore, the greatest headmaster Hogwarts had ever known - Cedric, who’d held his position as Head Boy so highly – Sirius, killed for he, Harry – Snape, whose true secrets weren’t revealed until it was too late – Colin Creevey and his incessant but somehow memorable “Harry! Hey, Harry, can I have a photo?” And then there were his mum and dad. Hitcount: Story Total: 6869 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: I spent every waking moment on this story...it's my first challenge story!!! I hope it turns out well! |
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Harry Potter didn’t know how long he lay awake in the dark room, still clad in jeans and a t-shirt. A trickle of light wedged its way underneath the door, but it wasn’t that which kept him from falling asleep. Turning onto his side, he gingerly fingered the scar down his arm. No amount of Healing could remove the signs of Dark Magic. But his mind was wandering. Again. It had a habit of doing that, especially after the battle, and even more so when Ginny was in close proximity… He sat up, scrubbing a hand through his hair. This would never work. He was denying the inevitable. Tossing aside the light blanket, Harry crept into the hallway, wand in hand out of habit. He nearly fell through Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s doorway as loud snores erupted from Ron’s room. Steadying himself — and denying and urge to open Ginny’s door and watch her breathe — he descended the creaking stairs, crossed the moonlit forest of chairs and tables that was the common room, and stepped out into the street in front of the Three Broomsticks. A cluster of young witches and wizards, most of whom were former DA members, stood with wands out in the center of the wide Hogsmeade street, talking in low voices by the dim light of street lamps. Potter’s Guard, they called themselves. At the sight of Harry, they saluted with wands touching the badge on their robes. Grimly, Harry nodded acknowledgement and strode fiercely away down the alley. They really were taking this whole ordeal too far, but every time he told someone that he didn’t deserve special treatment, they laughed in his face. As he crested the hill past the Shrieking shack, shifting clouds revealed what he had been avoiding. Piles of stone, rubble really, extended for hundreds of feet upon the grounds where Hogwarts school had once stood. Occasional walls jutted up, lone declarers of defiance of the chaos the Death Eaters had reigned upon the school. Harry sat, jaw working furiously and hands clenched. A terribly confusing force pushed at the back of his eyes, almost as if he were about to cry. “Harry?” Hermione slid down the slim bark trunk of the pale tree that leaned over the Shack’s roof, brushing her wild hair straight and hugging a thick volume to her chest. “Couldn’t sleep?” As she took her place on the ground next to him, Harry muttered, “Again.” “Well, it was a highly traumatic event, and it’s only reasonable that you would — I’m not helping, am I?” Harry sighed, propping his chin up with one hand and rubbing at his eye with a fist. “It was all so fast, Hermione,” he said, staring a the Forbidden Forest’s infinite darkness. “It’s all over. Everything’s over, just like that. Even Hogwarts, and I thought it was invincible.” “Hogwarts isn’t over,” Hermione said brightly, rearranging her school skirt and showing him the book in her arms. “Hogwarts, A History,” Harry grinned. “Your favorite book.” “And one of the few books left in my dormitory,” Hermione continued, pleased with herself. “I don’t know why I left it there last year. I’m terribly lucky it survived the battle.” “How can it help Hogwarts?” Harry prompted gently. “Three times in the history of Hogwarts, the castle was put under siege, and three times it had to be rebuilt. I’ll admit, the damage was never at this scale…” Brown eyes flinched with sadness as she looked up at the wreckage. “But, on page eight hundred fifty-two, you’ll find they express that there are multiple charms on the castle so the stone itself may never be destroyed…” “But can you imagine the time it will take to rebuild?” Harry whispered. “Ginny will never even get to graduate.” “Well, Ginny’s had far more training than most students at Hogwarts ever have,” Hermione replied firmly, closing the book with a snap. “And no one’s giving up. Professor McGonagall’s already asked Neville to take the Herbology post!” Harry grinned. “We all saw that one coming.” “Of course he’ll have to go through extensive training first, but it can’t be more than three or four years until he’s teaching! And he’ll have Professor Sprout to help him, though she’ll be limited now that she’s in a wheel chair.” Hermione frowned. “There must be a way to Heal wounds inflicted by Dark magic.” “So you’re going to become a Healer after all?” Blushing, Hermione mumbled, “Yes, as soon as Ron and I find a flat.” Harry stared at her. “You’re moving into a flat with Ron? But…that’s brilliant!” “Don’t anyone!” Hermione gasped, mortified. “Not yet. If Fred and George…I mean, if George…” “Your secret’s safe with me,” Harry assured her, to cover for the awkward moment. “Ron’s really torn up over Fred,” Hermione said softly as Harry helped her to her feet. “Well, at least Percy’s back.” It was a grim trade-off, though. “Yes.” Hermione looked up. “So what about you and Ginny?” “Now, that’s classified,” Harry laughed, opening the door to the Three Broomsticks. “Oh, of course,” Hermione chortled. “Just don’t let Ron hear you say that.” Still chuckling, Harry left Hermione at the room she shared with Ginny and proceeded to his own room. On the verge of sleep, Harry’s eyes slid to the window. Moon-washed mounds of stone could be seen far over the hill. He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. “Morning, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley said brightly, taking a plate of sausage from Madame Rosmerta. The common room was empty but for one large table around which all the Weasleys and Hermione were crammed. “Good morning, Mrs. Weasley,” he replied, stifling a yawn with the back of his right hand. “Did you sleep well?” Ginny asked, smiling at him from across the table. “Really well, yeah,” he lied. Hermione grimaced at him over her mug of pumpkin juice but didn’t say anything. Ginny turned to her father, and Harry followed her long red locks, mesmerized. Looking at Ginny was almost as much fun as kissing her, with her deep brown eyes and perfect freckles — there were thirty-six — and lips made for pouting. Almost as much fun. Madame Rosmerta placed a tray laden with scrambled eggs and finely-done toast in the middle of the table, at the same time murmuring to Harry, “There’s a lady outside to see Mister Potter.” “A what?” he choked, nearly spewing bits of pear on the other breakfasters. They stared at him as he stood. Madame Rosmerta smiled cheekily at them all. “I’m only joking. It’s Professor McGonagall.” When Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth, frowning, the plump bartender continued, “She asked to see Mister Potter right away.” “It’s all right, Mrs. Weasley, I’m not really hungry anyway.” Harry started towards the door. “Don’t wait for me, all right?” He caught one more scowl from her before Ron made a rude noise and caught her attention, and by that time he was out the door anyway. Standing on the small patch of grass by the pub, Professor McGonagall looked no worse for wear despite her vigor in the battle. Hair now fully gray was tucked into a bun, and a light traveling cloak draped over her arm. “Mr. Potter, it’s a pleasure,” she said, bowing her head. “As always.” “Of course, Professor.” “I have a … favor…to ask,” she said crisply, driving right to the point. “Not only for myself but for countless wizarding generations to come.” “Haven’t I already fulfilled my duties?” he joked. Only, it wasn’t all in jest. Tight lips curved slightly. “Quite. This is, of course, all your choice, and if you do not wish to help…” “I’m sorry, Professor, I’ll be serious now. I’d love to help. What is it I’d be doing?” “As you know, the current condition of Hogwarts itself is…dismal.” “To say the least.” “Indeed.” Her bony hands twitched the cloak on her arm. “As the standing headmistress, if only for the time being, I have taken it upon myself to witness the rebuilding of the castle. I cannot let it fall into disrepair. I cannot help thinking, however, that this would not have happened if Albus were here.” A pang shot through Harry as he thought about his conversation with Dumbledore, in that airy hall somewhere indescribable. He had told no one. “He is sorely missed.” “Yes.” McGonagall’s eyes hardened. “The foreman of the project, it appears, has discovered that there are quite a few charms upon the building which keep it from being destroyed in certain methods. Normally, these charms would protect the castle, but in this case, they hamper the builders from being able to magic the stone back into place. Not to mention that many of the original building plans have been lost and I appear to be the only teacher with memory enough to build even the first floor.” “So you want me to find someone to help you? I’m sure Hermione could…” “No, Mr. Potter, the foreman has requested that you use your…Elder Wand to override the powerful charms. Of course, if you could activate some plan so that the builders could see where they were to place each block, that would be more than helpful, but the Elder Wand is the necessary force in this.” Harry flinched, traveling mentally to the locked box that was protected with multiple charms and shoved under his wardrobe. The terrible Elder Wand lay in there, on a bed of velvet. He had considered flying over the Black Lake and dropping the wand — tied to a rock — into the watery depths, only to have Hermione talk his ear off with reasons to keep the wand. Then Fred’s face flashed into his mind, grinning, laughing with George, until suddenly he lay before Harry, covered in blood and eyes drooping in eternal sleep. Other faces clouded Harry’s vision — Lupin and Tonks and little Teddy, whom they’d left behind — Hedwig, even, and Dobby — Dumbledore, the greatest headmaster Hogwarts had ever known - Cedric, who’d held his position as prefect so highly — Sirius, killed for he, Harry — Snape, whose true secrets weren’t revealed until it was too late — Colin Creevey and his incessant but somehow memorable “Harry! Hey, Harry, can I have a photo?” And then there were his mum and dad. Swallowing quickly, Harry looked up at McGonagall. “I’ll do it. On one condition.” Halfway into turning away, the elderly witch gave him a thorough stare. “And that would be?” “I get to contribute something …new…to Hogwarts. Something in memory of all those who died to defeat Voldemort.” McGonagall’s lips parted as she gazed at him. “That is an excellent idea, Mr. Potter,” she said finally, voice slightly hoarse. Her eyes glistened as Harry had only seen them once before. “An excellent idea. It is, in fact, a tradition for the greatest contributor for repairs at Hogwarts to add something…special to the castle. What did you have in mind?” Harry sucked in his cheeks, racking his brains. Nothing seemed worthy to stand as a monument to all those who died. “I’ll have to think about it a bit, Professor, if you don’t mind.” She smiled, truly smiled, for the first time Harry had ever seen. “It’s probably best to keep it a secret, in any event. Work starts around noon tomorrow, and nine o’clock ever morning from there on in. The builders expect it to take only a week with the Elder Wand, so you have very high expectations to live up to.” She inclined her head respectfully, murmuring, “Good day, Mr. Potter.” “Good day, Professor,” he called as she skirted a group of the Potter’s Guard. “Well?” Harry turned to see Mrs. Weasley standing akimbo in the doorway, eyes fierce. “Er… well what?” “What was that about?” Mrs. Weasley snapped, gesturing to Professor McGonagall’s distant figure on the hill side. “What did she want?” “She wanted me to help repair the castle.” “Oh, well then, of course you said no.” Mrs. Weasley turned back into the inn, looking satisfied. “Actually, I said yes.” Harry smiled at her and squeezed past into the slightly cooler common room. “You did what?” Sitting down and grinning at Ginny, Harry marveled at how much Molly Weasley had become like an overprotective mother to him. “I said I’d help. Work starts tomorrow at twelve. This toast is really good, Madame Rosmerta.” Ignoring the tinkling laugh that came from behind the bar, Mrs. Weasley strode to stand by her husband, glaring at Harry. “But we agreed, didn’t we, Arthur, that we would all go back to the Burrow after this was all over. Right away, we said. Didn’t we, Arthur?” Arthur Weasley turned to look up at his wife, a tiny piece of scrambled egg dangling from the semblance of hair still clinging to his head. Ginny stifled a giggle in her napkin as her father rumbled, “Did we, Molly, dear? I can’t recall…And in any event, I think this is very important, very important indeed. Harry’s a man now, Molly, and if he wants to stay he can. They can all stay,” he added, when Ginny sat up straight, mouth open indignantly. “They’re all grown up, Molly, no use denying it. They can Floo over for dinner once in a while, and it won’t take long, not long at all.” Mrs. Weasley trembled, torn between rage and disappointment. “But I-” She looked from Harry to her husband and back again. “Oh, all right, but I expect you all to be home before six every night, and if I hear anything from Madame Rosmerta about any … canoodling — oh, do be quiet, Ron — I swear you will never be able to sit on a broomstick again!” Grinning, Madame Rosmerta removed Ginny’s empty plate and whispered to her loudly, “Don’t be worrying, Miss Weasley. If you and Mr. Potter want to canoodle, I won’t tell a soul!” “I’ll look after her, Mum,” Ron piped up, emerging for the first time from his gargantuan bucket of eggs. “I’ll make sure Ginny stays strictly appropriate for her age.” “Yeah, well, we all know how appropriate you were at my age, Ronald,” Ginny hissed, still red in the face from laughing at the bartender. Coloring, Ron opened his mouth to shoot back an insult, but just then, Harry noticed a lack of red hair at the table. “Where’s George?” After an awkward moment of silence, Hermione said quietly, “I think he wanted to be alone for a little while.” “Oh.” Harry felt terrible. It really was all his fault that the Weasleys were involved in any of this, involved in the war, involved with him… No! A voice that sounded distinctly like Sirius’s kept Harry from beating himself up. It’s not your fault, Harry, and you can’t do anything to change it. This has been written in prophecy, so there’s nothing you can do about it. “I’m…not really hungry,” he lied, pushing his chair back with a screech. “Do you mind if I go up and… read or something?” By Mrs. Weasley’s affronted look, she did mind, but Ginny reached across the table to touch his hand and said softly, “Go on, Harry. It’s all right.” Lying on his bed and gazing at the rising sun’s rays as they danced upon the beams of the ceiling, Harry felt — not for the first time — that the weight upon his shoulders had become too large to carry. I thought that would go away when Voldemort was killed, he mused. Will I never be done saving the world? “Mr. Potter, oh, Mr. Potter, it really is a pleasure…oh, of course, Mr. Potter, right this way, Mr. Potter…” Grumbling to himself about words in his memory — ‘Fame’s a fickle friend, Harry’ — Harry stepped over a large broken statue of a winged boar and followed the skinny, bowing wizard through the wreckage. Even from this distance, he could see Ginny sitting by the Shrieking Shack, watching him. No doubt Hermione would be along before long, filled to burst with ideas on how to deactivate charms, and Ron could help with the… “’Ello, Mr. Potter.” Harry looked up, and nearly leapt back in horror. “Mel?” The balding, greasy man grinned. “Yeah, tha’s me. You’d remember me as a stinkin’ Muggle, wouldn’t you? Stinkin’ Muggles, the whole lot of ’em not fit to shine my buckles… But that’s aside the point. I’m what you may call a Squib, Mr. Potter. I was asked many, many years ago by Dumbledore ’imself to live among them Muggles and watch you.” “You too?” Harry said weakly. “How many more of you were there that I didn’t know about?” Mel began to count on his thick fingers, then gave up. “A lot,” he simplified. “So what are you doing here, if you can’t do magic? I mean…” “I don’t take it as an insult, Mr. Potter, you can be sure. Really don’t. Never quite thought it were necessary to use a wand when I got me own two hands.” Two of the assistant builders exchanged glances behind Mel’s back. “But maybe somes of that magic rubbed off on me, cause I’m known as the best builder in all of England!” He gestured ecstatically, then muttered, “Or I used to be, befores I was sent to protect you.” Harry shook his head. “Well, can we get started?” “Harry!” Sure enough, Hermione had arrived. Waving a book, no less, and with Ron tottering behind with a bag that looked to contain Hermione’s whole trunk. “Harry, oh, Harry, I’m so glad I got here in time!” Hermione cried. “I’ve only just found it!” She thrust the book out, beaming. “Great Wizarding Buildings,” Harry read slowly. “Where did you find this?” “I was talking to Aberforth — you remember, Aberforth Dumbledore? — and I told him about you wanting to help rebuild the castle, and he gave a start and said — well, anyway, he brought out this book and it’s the only surviving copy in the entire world! You know how lucky we are to have found this, Harry?” “Well, this will definitely be a big help,” Harry replied, ignoring Hermione’s indignant squeaks that it would be ‘more than big help.’ “I was actually just going to take your usual method of research and go see how much of the library still stands.” “God, not more books,” Ron groaned, slipping the bag off his shoulder. “Ron!” Hermione stared at him. “You can’t just put books on the ground! They’re sacred — most of them are hundreds of years old!” Grinning, Harry motioned for the builders to follow him. “Let’s go.” As they neared the bulk of the castle that was still standing, Harry noticed a glimmer of light from between one of the mounds of stone. Stooping, he found his hand closing around a slightly rusty metal handle. “Good God,” he murmured, turning it over in his hands. “What is it?” Ron and Hermione asked in the same moment. “It’s the tap from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom!” Harry whispered, tracing his finger over the engraved snake. “The one that opened the Chamber of Secrets!” “Wow, I remember that thing!” Ron grinned, shoving Mel aside to look at it in Harry’s hands. “Wow!” “Meanwhile, I was petrified,” Hermione grumbled. Laughing, they meandered through the wreckage, Mel and his builders trailing after them. “You know, I wonder if Myrtle hung around during the battle,” Ron said, squinting at one of the towers. “I think I saw her drop something on Alecto,” Hermione said absently, still gazing at the tap in Harry’s hands. “You know what?” Ron looked very pleased with himself. “We should rebuild her bathroom for her.” Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. “What?” Ron asked sheepishly. “That is the most wonderful suggestion I have ever heard, Ron,” Hermione whispered wonderingly. “Really?” Ron seemed to be trying not to puff out his chest. “I thought so.” “Oh,” Hermione gasped suddenly. Harry looked up, and nearly gasped too. Where a wall of stone had dropped away, several floors up, the library stood exposed but apparently unscathed. The sun streaming in through a gap in the floor above revealed perfectly shelved books and illuminated Hermione’s sanctuary in a most unnatural way. “I need to go up there right now,” Hermione moaned, hands plucking at Harry’s sleeve. “Right now.” Twenty minutes later, Harry turned the corner around another bookshelf, shaking his head. “They’re all here.” “Look, Harry, look!” Hermione cried, bursting out from a side room. “Look what was in the closet!” The book looked to be about twice as old as Nicolas Flamel, covered in elaborate gold embossment and pages that really did flake as Harry brushed them gently. The title could be seen under a thick layer of dust. Hogwarts: The Building of a Legend. “By Godric Gryffindor,” Harry breathed. “It couldn’t be published, of course,” Hermione gushed, gazing at the book with the utmost exaltation. “It contains all the secrets of Hogwarts, all the details of building…everything! Oh, Harry, this is so amazing…. It must be over a thousand years old, as old as Hogwarts itself, and it has two thousand five hundred sixty-eight pages! Two thousand five hundred sixty-eight pages of information all about Hogwarts! And it contains maps…” “Wow,” Harry laughed. “Wow.” “I wish I could have gone into that closet years ago…it contains all the books that couldn’t be published but were kept specially by previous headmasters and headmistresses… most of them are written by the founders of Hogwarts! I’ve got to go find Ron…” As she wandered away, a voice from overhead called, “Well, that makes your job considerably easier.” Harry’s head jerked up, and Ginny grinned down at him from her precarious perch on the end of a bookshelf. Involuntarily, Harry’s stomach clenched at the sight of her feet dangling several hundred feet from the ground. “You really shouldn’t sit up there,” he said unsteadily. “Oh, I’m not worried,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “I placed a charm upon myself so that if I fall further than four feet I’ll be caught. It’s really very complicated, though it’s similar to what Dumbledore used to catch you at that one Quidditch match in my second year… I don’t know if someone with your brain capacity could understand the theory of it.” Harry laughed. “You’re brilliant.” “I know.” They shared a smile for a long moment, Ginny’s face lit by glorious rays of sun. “Harry?” Ginny looked out at the landscape. “Can you do me a favor?” “Anything,” he answered. “Will you let me build a room just for the students? Sort of like a common room for all the houses? And all the students who participated in the battle should be allowed to submit suggestions for it…I want a big window so I can look at the lake in winter…” Harry felt his heart grow larger just listening to her talk. “That sounds wonderful. Two days later, Harry grunted as a sliver of stone knocked his legs out from under him. Lee Jordan, the Weasley twins’ partner in crime, tripped over a construction log as he hurried to help him up. “Sorry about that, mate,” Lee apologized. “Still getting used to these large blocks.” “That’s all right, Lee,” Harry assured him, gingerly rubbing the backs of his knees. “That spell we used to override the charms doesn’t make the blocks any lighter.” Progress on the castle had been increasing steadily for the last two days, with former or even current Hogwarts students Flooing into Hogsmeade and assisting with the blocks. Many of the rooms on the first floor that had needed rebuilding were off-limits to students, so Professor McGonagall currently stood at the edge of construction, voice magically magnified as she read from Godric Gryffindor’s books. “Harry, I found these in Colin’s dormitory,” George said, handing him a thick envelope. “Hi, Lee.” “Hey, man, I’m really sorry about-” Lee began. George looked away. “It’s all right. Listen, Lee, I need a new partner at the shop…” They walked away towards the construction as Hermione hurried up holding two wands carefully. “Harry, I think I’ve solved our problem,” she told him, quickly giving him both wands. “The Metimotus charm worked really well — there’ve been no problems with the blocks — but we need to do something about the actual rebuilding.” “I’m guessing you have a plan.” Harry turned the Elder Wand slowly over in his hands. “I do. It’s really complicated — Godric Gryffindor was the only person to ever do it correctly, and the Elder Wand could make it much more difficult — but I think we can do it.” “Well, let’s do it, then,” Harry sighed. Hermione took the wands, carefully wrapping Harry’s hands around them. “All right. You must use both wands. The incantation is Revelvisimo, but you have to touch the tips of the wands together when you say it.” “Revelvisimo. Why is nothing happening?” Hermione grimaced at him. “Because the wands don’t know what you’re trying to reveal. You have to surrender to their power, and say Revelvisimo Hogwarts. You have to truly surrender, though.” “And you’re sure this’ll work?” “One of the spells Gryffindor mentions is a charm that showed the builders where everything was supposed to go. Now, if I’m not mistaken, the charm will still work today. I should mention, though,” she said quickly, as he opened his mouth, “that this spell is very dangerous. It has killed several people.” Harry took a deep breath. It’s really our only hope of getting this done on time, he thought. “Here goes nothing.” He connected the tips of the wands, closing his eyes, and bellowed, “Revelvisimo Hogwarts!” He knew the instant before he opened his eyes that it had worked Warmth and power flowed into him from one wand and out the other n a continuous cycle. As his head snapped up, Hermione gave an “oh” of pleasure. Great beams of bluish-white energy streamed from his wand tips, branching out to weave into a giant blue replica of Hogwarts resting upon the great stone walls that still stood. As the last weave settle into place, Harry let the wands clatter to the ground and sank slowly to the ground. Where before energy had flown through him, he now felt drained and worn. Cheers erupted from the construction area, and several bright flashes of light popped above the castle. Hermione’s eyes shone. “That was amazing, Harry, really amazing!” she beamed. “Not even Dumbledore was ever able to do that right. I can’t believe you actually did it!” Harry grinned. “Neither can I. But I need to go find Flitwick.” Pride swelling his heart, he murmured to himself, “Keep this up and I’ll need a longer break.” “No, Hermione!” Harry stood, feet planted firmly on the gap between the gate posts. “We said everyone.” “But the books!” Hermione moaned. Harry shook his head. “Come on, Hermione,” Ginny sighed, grabbing her friend by the elbow. “When Harry’s hair sticks up like that, he’s not joking.” Sticking her tongue out at Harry, she led Hermione away. Examining his hair in the glass of his watch, Harry slid the lock into place and turned back to the school. Just three hours ago, the new had circulated that Harry J. Potter and his crew of builders wanted everyone out. The castle, from here on in, would be a secretive project concealed by the utmost of complicated charms and only to be unveiled when it was really done. “The Invisimo charms are completed,” Mel’s assistant reported, ducking a flying beam and tossing a tiny sack of powder at Harry’s chest. “Flitwick just began his part of the work.” “Excellent,” Harry muttered, tucking the specially designed invisibility powder into the breast pocket of his Muggle t-shirt. “Get some men to secure the boundaries, then bring me the clipboard.” On the edge of the grounds, Harry found a large cardboard box filled with folded papers slips. Students at Hogwarts had been submitting suggestions for Ginny’s room overlooking the lake for several days now. Clearing a space on the littered front steps of the castle, Harry leafed through the submissions. “Books on Muggle torture…that’ll never do. Make-up parlor? Definitely not…” “All set!” Mel leaned back on his heels, thumbs tucked into his belt. “We can begin your … project.” “While I start there, can you start taking notes on the furniture Gryffindor has listed? Most of the furniture was salvaged, but some does need to be bought, made, or Summoned. Oh, and Mel,” he added, as the Squib began to turn away. “Not a word about my project to anyone, you hear? Not a word.” Mel drew a finger across his lips. “Silent as the grave.” Turning to face the castle, Harry thought about the expectations resting upon his shoulders. Two days, he thought. Two days. Harry rummaged through the pile of shirts on his bed, searching for the proper one to wear to the reopening the next day. No…that one was stained…that was definitely Ron’s… “Harry?” He glanced up to find Ginny perched upon his bed. With a start, he realized that she really was there and leapt up. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?” She grinned mischievously. “I have my ways.” Slipping off the bed, she approached towards him. “I was hoping you would answer a question for me.” The way she batted her eyelids…No! He had to keep a clear mind. Backing away, he asked hoarsely, “What sort of question?” “Oh, you know,” she sighed, grabbing the end of his tie and tickling his nose with it as his back thumped against the wall. “About your project.” “Um…” He swallowed. Mrs. Weasley would be very upset if he… Wait. His project? “How do you know about that?” “Never mind that,” she said softly, peering up at him with those big brown eyes. “I just want to know-” “No!” He seized her by the shoulders and steered her towards the door. “There will be no knowing about the project. What project, anyway? There is no project. Project, there’s not project…” Ginny turned in the doorway, brows knitted and mouth drawn tight in a way that was really actually quite cute. “Well, I’ll have you know, Potter, that everyone wants to find out your little secret, and they will find out! They will!” And she turned on her heel and stormed away. Harry shut the door and went to his bed, where he promptly fell down. Who knew dealing with women could be so tiring? “Can we come in yet?” Ginny demanded, stomping her foot. Behind her, hundreds of people — students, reporters, Order members — pressed at the gates and rumbled with excited chatter. Ginny, Ron and Hermione had received prime spots in the front of the mob for being ‘special personal friends’ of Mr. Potter. Harry grinned. “Not yet. They’re putting the Invisimo spell on one more time, and they have to let down the block on the gates and the boundaries. Here comes Mel now.” The builder glowered a moment at the press of people at the gates, shading his eyes against the flash of magically levitated cameras. “All set, Mr. Potter.” “Let us in, Harry,” Hermione commanded. “No, why don’t you all come back tomorrow?” Harry turned away, before laughing and saying, “All right, all right. Mel, give the order.” “Builders! Release your spells!” Mel bellowed, stepping aside. Fairly glowing with pride, Harry stepped through the iron gates as they swung open and extended his arm to Ginny. “Shall we?” They led the crowd up the long drive, admiring the grounds now completely clean and even. The castle lay shrouded in invisibility. “So you won’t tell me the secret even now?” Ginny murmured, squeezing Harry’s arm. “Of course,” he whispered back, “I won’t.” Ginny stuck her tongue out. “Where’s the castle?” Ron grumbled, scuffing his feet on the dirt, but Harry knew that were he to look back, the red-head’s eyes would be shining with anticipation. “Here we are,” Harry breathed, coming to a halt before a wide blue ribbon. “This is something of a Muggle tradition,” he explained to Ginny. “Are we ready?” Flitwick, standing behind the ribbon, gave Harry an anxious look. Harry took a deep, long breath, then stepped to the very front of the ribbon. “Hello!” he called over the crowd, voice magically magnified. “Hello, and welcome to the reopening of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Cheers filled the air as they had only a week and a half ago, when Lord Voldemort had been vanquished once and for all. “There will be many announcements to make at tonight’s opening feast, in the Great Hall,” Harry continued, “so I’ll keep it brief for now. I have chosen someone to cut the ribbon that will reveal the castle, and I feel I must justify my decision, as there are so many people who lost so much in this war.” He looked around at all the people he loved, standing before him and watching him with smiles. “It can be harder than anything to lose parents, to lose friends, to lose children, and to lose siblings. But to lose a twin, a person you’ve grown up loving more than anyone, a person who knew your deepest secrets and knew you better than anyone, that is the ultimate loss. For that reason, I would like George Weasley to cut the ribbon.” The applause seemed muted, subdued. Everyone had known Fred and George as the inseparable trouble-makers. That there could only be one was incomprehensible. “Thanks, Harry,” George said quietly as he pushed through the last clump of people. “But I think you should cut it.” Harry shook his head. “George, you and Fred were the essence of the true spirit of Hogwarts. Love, friendship, family, freedom, laughter, and sometimes disobedience.” There was scattered laughter. “Everyone knew you, and even your enemies couldn’t help but laugh sometimes.” He waved his wand, and a giant pair of shears appeared in his left hand. “For Fred.” George looked at the shears, then at Harry, then back. “For Fred,” he mumbled, gripping the shears with both hands and cutting the ribbon. As the invisibility spell was deactivated for the final time, gasps swept the grounds. The castle stood before them as though it had never been touched. “It looks perfect,” Hermione whispered into the silence. “It looks beautiful.” Mrs. Weasley blew her nose in a large cloth. “Shall we go in?” Harry yelled. The enthusiastic response was instantaneous. Even having spent the last week rebuilding the castle, the Entrance Hall took Harry’s breath away as if he were walking in as a first year all over again. Great chandeliers sparkled above them, floating magically. “They’re held in place so that Peeves can’t send them plummeting to kill someone,” Harry confided in Ginny, who was gaping at everything around her. “The house points!” Hermione cried out, pointing at the great hourglasses. “But I thought they were shattered in the battle!” “They were,” Harry told her and the rest of the crowd that had made its way inside. “The glass was everywhere, and many of the gems were lost. Flitwick, though, studied some extensive texts by Rowena Ravenclaw and was able to figure out how the original hourglasses were made. That’s what he’s been working on this week.” “But that’s not your secret, is it,” Ginny murmured. In a louder voice, she exclaimed, “How did you get the marble staircase to be so perfectly perfect?” Harry laughed. “No, it’s not my secret. But I want to show you some other rooms.” He motioned for the Weasleys and Hermione to follow him. “You get the exclusive tour.” On the second floor, Harry motioned for Ron to open a small wooden door. “It was your idea.” He followed the rest of the group into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. The ‘pimply’ ghost already rested near the ceiling, gazing down upon them. “It looks almost exactly like it used to,” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. “Even in my day!” “He repaired the sinks and the mirrors,” Myrtle called down mournfully. “He’s such a wonderful boy.” “He is,” Ginny agreed, “and he’s all mine.” Harry’s laughter echoed against the blue and white tiles. “So did you close off the Chamber?” Ron asked. “Yeah,” Harry said, moving forward to stand next to him. “There were a lot of memories down there that a lot of people want to forget. Maybe someday it can be used for a really big classroom or something, but for now, I think it’s best it stayed closed.” They stood for a moment in respectful silence, Ginny gazing at the entrance to a place where nightmares had come to life and she had nearly died. “Next stop?” Harry asked finally. “Indeed,” Mr. Weasley murmured. “Lead the way, Harry.” “Now,” Harry told the Weasleys and Hermione as they neared the library on the fourth floor, “Ginny suggested this room in the first place but it’s been combined with all the ideas of students and people who participated in the battle. I added a little something onto the side of it, but you’ll see that soon enough. Right…here.” Harry pushed open a pair of dark wooden doors adjacent to those of the library, and somebody gasped. Giant windows all down one wall let in the setting sun’s light. The walls were covered with the colors of all four houses, and the room, which had to be as large as the Great Hall, was filled with a mass of arm chairs, tables, bookshelves, miniature Quidditch stadiums that had become popular among the students, chess boards, fireplaces, and colorful Quidditch banners. “Over to the right extends into a miniature Owlery, and that passageway leads to the kitchens, and there’s your fantastic view, Ginny…” “But this is huge!” Hermione exclaimed. “And it couldn’t be seen from outside. How did you do it?” “I’ll admit, it was difficult,” Harry chuckled, “since Gryffindor’s charm didn’t allow for changes, but we eventually overrode that with another series of spells that dissipated the charm’s real ability to control where everything was put. The room is concealed with a permanent invisibility charm, so you can’t see it from outside at all.” “This is absolutely brilliant, Harry,” Ginny said, turning in circles as she gazed at the ceiling, which was something similar to the Great Hall’s magical one. “Absolutely brilliant.” “I have one more thing to show you,” Harry admitted. “It’s my secret.” Ginny’s head lowered faster than Harry could think physically possible. “Your secret?” “Yeah. It’s over here.” Harry led the way to a door covered in fine silver tendrils, hidden behind a giant armchair. “I spent a lot of time on this…I hope it came out as wonderful as I hoped it would.” And he opened the door. The space inside couldn’t have been much larger than the dormitory Harry had slept in during his years at Hogwarts. What took the breath away from every person in the vicinity and sent the women into tears were the walls. Giant moving pictures of laughing people covered the walls, moving from Lupin and Tonks to Colin Creevy to Amelia Bones to Mad-Eye Moody. “All the people who died,” Hermione said breathlessly. “I had a really hard time finding pictures of everyone. I had to write lots of people I’ve never met,” Harry said quietly, standing in the doorway as the others examined the walls. “Hey, Harry,” Ron called. “What are these?” He was pointing to a little plaque on the wall, silver writing distinguishable through the moving photos. It read, Hedwig, Faithful Friend. “They list the names of all the people who died in this war, because of the war, because of Voldemort, in the effort to stop Voldemort, in the effort to save me, or any other way related to the Battle of Hogwarts.” Harry looked around. “There are over two thousand names in here.” He suddenly realized that everyone was staring at him. Mr. Weasley had his glasses off and a handkerchief to his face. “What?” Harry asked awkwardly. Mrs. Weasley let out a wail and seized him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. So I guess I did it right after all, Harry thought, grinning as Ginny laughed through her tears and Hermione leaned on Ron, looking terribly pleased. I really guess I did it right. Three hours later, the feast in the Great Hall was no where near winding down. Harry stood, one hand on his glass, and the bubble of talk subsided. He gazed around at the faces before him, so many of them happier than he had ever seen them. “I want to say again how happy I am to be here, how happy I am to celebrate the reopening of Hogwarts with all of you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I have spent the last seven years of my life wondering when Voldemort would come and kill me. For the first time, I am free of that. I’m free to walk in the middle of a street without any Aurors shadowing me like hawks. I can go into an ice cream parlor without a bodyguard.” Laughter rippled in the crowd. “But Hogwarts has always been my home, and when I thought I would have to watch the pieces of it being taken away, I couldn’t stand the thought. To be given the chance to rebuild, to start again, is amazing. To know that many of you will finish your school career in the Hogwarts that I have helped rebuild is brilliant. To know that many of you will have children who will go to school here is… a little overwhelming.” More laughter, especially among couples. “The greatest joy comes out of this for me, not only because I helped rebuild the place that I looked forward to coming to all summer for seven years, but also because I can begin again too. I can rebuild. To begin again is wonderful, and I’m just happy I can do it with you.” He raised his glass. “To you.” The cheers that erupted around the hall were louder than any Hogwarts had ever heard. And the rumble of applause that began at that moment was not only a beginning. It was an ending, an ending of an age of terror and fear. But it was a beginning, the beginning of the rest of Harry Potter’s life and the new beginning of Hogwarts. It was a beginning. |
| Reviews 13 |
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