Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters.
The hum of a new year vibrated through the halls as the Head Girl briskly made her way to the Great Hall. It was her job to get to there before the rest of the students arrived so that she could both greet them and ensure they funneled into their seats in a timely fashion so that the opening ceremony could commence.
Lights were lit, the suits of armor stood proud in their newly polished shine, Peeves could be heard giggling in conspiratorial excitement. That usual crackle of energy was stirring in the air that only snapped about on the first day at Hogwarts.
As she approached those large oak doors she felt the thump of her heart grow louder and the sensation of her lungs drew sharper. Hermione's finger tips reached out and grazed the old wood. In hesitation, she paused with uncharacteristic uncertainty as an unsettling sense that something unpleasant lay beyond the entrance.
Inhaling deeply, she pushed the doors open and stepped into the Great Hall where she had, so many years ago, been inducted into the school's ancient lineage.
The room vibrated with its usual breathtaking vigor. Glittering lights from the floating candles and sparkling stars cascaded kaleidoscopic spots of light that fluttered across the abyss of the vaulted ceiling. Deep reds, blues, yellows, and greens ornamented the space with the pride of their sacred heritages. The great House tables stood in their rows, resolute and ready, waiting for their students to join them and commence their yearly rituals.
The Great Hall was stunning and dazzling; shining with the promise of a fruitful year.
Yet, as the doors swished close behind her, Hermione felt a shift in her self. The candles were suddenly snuffed out by dust, the stars blinked out of existence, and the thumping of her heart was replaced by the deafening but ever certain sound of bellum and bereavement. Groans and muffled sobs sweltered with the occasional pierce of a scream that could only be produced by the horror of sudden, baseless loss.
The rows of tables shifted from view and were replaced by rows of bodies. Students, professors, Order members, all lay still and solemn as their grieving families, peers, and comrades made unyielding attempts to will their magic to reignite life where death had taken hold.
Among the dead are children far too young to even know the darkness of war, exhausted warriors who had fought two wars but would never see the fruit of their efforts, and once luminous teachers who died before they were able in impart all the lessons and wisdom they had to share.
That particular sob that grabbed Hermione, was the all too familiar sound of loss emanating from Mrs. Weasley as she lay across the body of her son, shaking with unbearable and unbreakable anguish. All summer Hermione had become attuned to those whimpers, the guttural laments that shook the Weasley Matriarch so frequently.
Hermione's own eyes began to fill, the chambers of her heart began to trample against the efforts of her lungs.
Is this what I have come back to? Hermione's mind whispered mournfully. Is this year going to be filled with hauntings of lost battles? By the feeling of terror as my own life ebbed over the edge of existing? Will I ever walk into a classroom without the grating memory of devastation as I watched peers and loved ones lose their fight to live?
Gently, Hermione closed her eyes, placed her right hand over her heart, and began the breathing techniques she had adopted to quell the nightmares that unyieldingly taunted her in sleep.
At the tenth breath, her heart began to settle, her breath softened, and she fluttered her eyes open.
Once more was the splendor of the Great Hall.
Affixed to the task at hand, she walked up and down the length of the tables; inspecting the space, yet already knowing that all was in order and all was in place for the school year to commence.
As she made her way back to open the doors and greet the approaching students, she turned once more to face the hall and found her eyes caught on a series of names that wrapped around the circumference of the space.
More than the new mortar or stone put in place, these names would hold up the walls of Hogwarts; providing reminder and guardianship that fellowship, compassion, and the inextinguishable courage to resist darkness for the sake of protecting the light, will forever define this school and the people who reside within its walls.
Remus Lupin
Hermione's eyes snagged on her professor's name and a sudden warmth wafted over her. Images of her, Harry, and Ron each taking turns in cuddling, reading to, playing with, and loving Teddy flooded her mind.
In that first interaction when Harry had introduced his godson to his best friends, they had each sworn to protect him, to fill his life with love and laughter, to build a better, farer, more accepting world, and to ensure that he would live in the glow of his parents' efforts that freed the son of a werewolf from a life of discrimination and intolerance.
Harry had held that small bundle closer to his chest and whispered, "For your parents, for the Marauders, and all those who love you, we'll make it right for you. I promise."
Hermione had gently brushed the turquoise hair out of the sweet boy's eyes and knew in her heart that they would succeed.
Hermione smiled at the memory and felt a jitter of excitement spark as the sound of approaching students caught her ears.
Turning to those great doors, Hermione made her own promise:
I will put my best foot forward. I will rise to the legacy of the names on these walls and ensure that their memory brings forth tolerance, unity, and fairness. That the only new walls built are the ones used to fix the physical architecture of this school.
I will do all that I can to ensure that when Teddy Lupin walks into this Hall and sees his parents' name upon the wall, he will feel the warmth of love and the resilient knowledge that a better, more compassionate world was born from their efforts
The school had done its job and had been rebuilt. It was now her job, the job of her professors, and the job of her peers, to rebuild with memories and experiences that would transcend the lingering pain and loss. The future sat beyond those doors in anticipation. What would it bring?
Decency, she hoped. And the resolution to treat all with integrity and dignity.
It was time. The Great Hall was ready and so was she.
Hermione took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the doors.