CHAPTER 1: RETURNNG TO HOGWARTS
The nightmares had started to grow darker and darker with each passing day. It should have been the reverse; the effect of the war should have slowly worn off. Then why would Hermione wake up every night, wide eyed, sweating and panting? Why would it all reply in her head at night? Why would more and more of those who were not around anymore, talk to her in her dreams?
Hermione wiped the sweat off her forehead and looked out of the window, sitting up straight. What she saw was the best thing that had happened to her in months – a majestic tawny owl came swooping and landed on her window pane. Along with it came a letter.
Dear Hermione,
We are here at Hogwarts. The reconstruction work is taking longer than expected. We have only four months left and not even half the building is up. McGonagall says that the Ministry will seize to supply us with resources at the end of these four months and then Hogwarts will be history. It's really heartbreaking to think of living in a world without Hogwarts, isn't it?
The reason I am writing this letter is because we could do with some extra pair of hands for help. And who would be better than the 'brightest which of her age', eh?
If you are willing to help, please come as soon as possible, and bring as many people as you can. But it's completely understandable if you can't. Hope to see you soon.
Ginny.
At first, Hermione had no intention of going. She was so tired of everything that had happened to her in the last year that she simply wanted to give up.
She followed the owl as it flew off into the breaking dawn and closed her eyes. In a split second, images of Fred, Remus, Tonks and everyone else who had died in the war flashed before her.
Hogwarts was the one place responsible for her meeting and getting to know all the wonderful souls who had been such good friends to her. Of course she had to play her part in the reconstruction of their school – the place she loved so much.
The next thing Hermione was aware of was that she was packing her clothes and other important things in her charmed bag.
Hermione sighed with happiness and relief. She was returning to Hogwarts!
"Mr Draco Malfoy," the old counsellor read out from a documented file that lay on her ebony desk.
Draco looked at her, his gaze fixed at her wrinkled face, swallowing every bit of nervousness and grief that he felt.
"You have been found guilty of committing the crimes stated below." she read on. "First, of being a follower of You – Voldemort."
Draco flinched at the name. He hadn't exactly been scared of the Dark Lord, but he hadn't liked him very much. He was reptilian and quite scary looking. He was also ruthless and unreasonable. And Draco hated him for being the reason his father was in Azkaban and his mother so overwhelmed by grief that she had shut herself inside the Malfoy Manor and everyone else, including him, out.
"And second," the counsellor continued reading, "for the attempt of murdering Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump, Order of Merlin: First Class, Chief Sorcerer of Wizengamot and the then-Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Is that correct?"
"Yes, ma'am." Draco muttered, looking at his shoes.
"Ashamed, are we?" she asked, glaring at him.
Draco looked at her in the eye. "I have every reason to be, ma'am."
The counsellor nodded. "Well, at least you're remorseful, Mr Malfoy. I've met criminals who have committed graver crimes than you have and bare not even a speck of shame in their eyes."
Draco remained silent.
"Hmm, then let's look at your punishment, shall we?" The question was rhetorical. The counsellor turned the page and read, "You will have to work for any department of the Ministry in accordance with your skills and interests until the head of that department pronounces you clear. If there are any problems created by you, or any suspicions arise on you, you shall be sent to Azkaban for six months."
That was a little hard to swallow. Even if he tried to remain calm and composed and even invisible all the time, people would never accept him. He would always be the outcast. The bad guy. The target.
"Only?" the counsellor's comment broke his chain of thoughts.
"Excuse me?" Draco asked, "Six months isn't enough?"
The counsellor shrugged and held her hands up in defence. "Well, you did try to kill Dumbledore. A good man, he was."
"But I also failed!" he defended. And immediately regretted it, for he felt the two aurors standing at guard at his either side, tense and clench their hands around their wands harder.
"I won't do anything." Draco calmly told them. "No one wants to spend six months of their life in that dingy prison."
"Right you are, Mr Malfoy. I do hope that this will be your attitude at all times for a long time hence." said the counsellor. "Now, if you will please tell me about your interests and skills, I will assign the right job to you."
"I love to brew potions. I've read a number of books on healing herbs, if that matters..."
"Well of course it does!" the counsellor cheered. "There is a programme taken up by St. Mungos. They are sending a group of healers to the site of the reconstruction of Hogwarts. You see, it has not been an easy job and there have been some serious injuries. Minerva McGonagall says that they could do with some extra helping hands."
"And why exactly are you telling me this?" Draco enquired.
"Because, Mr Malfoy, I am sending you with the group of healers as an assistant healer to Hogwarts."
Oh no, Draco thought. He was returning to Hogwarts.