One of the genres I really enjoy in HP fanfic, at least when done well, is Harry restarting from the beginning. I should be writing the next section on Grief, but the bookshelves are still defying description, so instead...

Desperate Measure

"You can't!"

The wind howled through the shattered remains of Hogwarts. The shell of the library was the section Hermione had deemed of most value to the survivors. The library was the only section that still had portions of outer walls standing, though the floors above had caved down filling the center higher than the walls of the first floor had been. Despite counter claims by Poppy, that the dungeons should be excavated first for the healing potions and supplies that might remain in the warded cabinets, Harry had easily gotten the remainder of the Order to agree with Hermione.

The last walls of Hogwarts above ground were a powerful symbol, and the chance to fix something was the only thing holding far too many of the survivors together. Despite numerous attempts from numerous people to convince them to leave for other 'greater' tasks, Harry and Hermione camped onsite near where Hagrid's cottage had been. They occasionally deigned to answer questions, while working or eating, but refused to leave the site of the final Death Eater suicide attack. Voldemort was defeated a week before what the world hoped were the last of his followers brought down the school that had been haven to the innocent.

It was the only time the Ministry's interference had helped Harry. They wouldn't let the Hero leave St. Mungo's while injured, their only concession, to bring Madam Pomfrey to him. Thus Harry, Poppy, and Hermione were spared from the attack, by virtue of being in the hospital. Harry was far too jaded by the Ministry's actions to believe he would have been allowed to leave the hospital if Hogwarts hadn't been destroyed, so his thankfulness was quite muted.

Politicians still swarmed him at times trying to urge him to speak to the people (of course with the Minister at his side), to endorse the building of a temporary school, to endorse the lists of death eaters, to do a million little things that would be good for their public image but nothing real. Instead Harry was among a large number of volunteers who removed the rubble, braced the walls, and began to rebuild Hogwarts from the library up.

"You can't do this, Harry!"

Harry thought the missing glass in the windows was what made the higher moans of the wind, the ones that reminded him of his mother's cries. He wondered if he transfigured glass for the empty panes would it be enough to distract Hermione from his choice of reading material.

"Time travel is forbidden for a reason. Saving any of them could destroy the universe..."

Harry tuned out Hermione, instead seeing if he still had enough magic today to wandlessly transfigure. Harry slowly filled the windows with glass, then as Hermione continued to lecture, began to change their colors then began adding patterns. As Harry finished a window with the image of what only a seasoned kindergarten teacher might be able to guess was Dumbledore, Hermione finally realized that Harry wasn't listening even to her lecturing about tuning her out.

She turned and saw the glass, and knew her problems were only beginning. For the one thing Harry had dictated, was that they couldn't transfigure or conjure even temporary materials. For the braces and temporary ceiling, Harry had insisted that they fell trees in the Forbidden Forest, until building materials could be brought. Perhaps it was instinct, but the accidents caused by conjured and transfigured ladders and scaffolds quickly but randomly reverting proved Harry right once again, though he was kind enough not to say I told you so. A thousand years of magic, wretched from its stones, reacted wildly at times, at least for everyone except Harry.

Most volunteers, that Hermione found herself organizing, stayed no closer than Hogsmede, finding that staying too near the remains of the castle for too long caused havoc with their magic, especially overnight.

When Hermione turned to face Harry again, Harry spoke, "I took Divination and Care, Hermione. I can't even read the basic runes this talks about."

Hermione nodded, but her expression didn't ease.

"I can't look at another building or cleaning book," he shook his head. "I'm not beating myself up, but it's not like there ever was much fiction to read here."

Hermione sighed. "Just so you remember, Harry. The world is saved for now. Trying to change it, would kill more than Voldemort ever could." Seeing Harry nod, Hermione doused most of the torches lighting the library, and headed to their tent. Knowing that asking Harry to go to sleep would be fruitless, she thought of how she'd alter tomorrow's work plans.

The sounds of morning at Hogwarts sounded more like London, than ever before. And with war-trained senses, Harry didn't sleep in anymore. An hour after dawn, the train would arrive with more supplies and day-trippers who would come to gawk, to mourn, and/or to help. Gawkers usually were good for an hour or two of work, and a few galleons thrown into the donation pot. Hermione was considering offering t-shirts for them, to raise funds as well as help identify them easily, as many of them tried to leave with 'souvenirs' as it was. Gringotts hadn't charged for the wards at the gate that returned appropriated items, probably because they were making plenty off the transfer fees to muggle funds.

Harry briefly contemplated staying in bed for a bit this morning to read in peace. But a change in his pattern would doubtlessly lead to more lectures, so got ready for another day.

Hermione was already eating breakfast when Harry got into the kitchen. The scowl on her face as she contemplated today's master schedule, didn't ease with his greeting.

"There should be a good-sized load of lead this morning," Harry offered.

"I saw that. I nearly called to cancel it until I saw your initials on the chart, as well as the order."

Harry served himself a cup of tea. "That's why the tent works."

"What?"

"I'm sorry I didn't say before, but I didn't realize that you didn't know why this tent doesn't lose its charms, until the just the other day."

Hermione closed her planner. "You thought I let 3 tents get ruined for..."

"A political statement," Harry interrupted. "You'd been telling me at night about the media and garnering public support, and I thought since they were from the Ministry, and the oldest ones they had..." Harry shrugged, "I thought that's why you didn't say anything to them."

Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry, I knew this tent was a bit different, but I thought that was because it was from your vault. So we have radiation shielding? How did you discover this?"

"Completely by accident, of course." Harry smiled, but failed to get a response from Hermione. "Dudley went on a class trip to one of the nuclear power plants, don't remember which one. He came home wearing a radiation detection button. A week after I got back, it was reading toxic levels."

"Without you doing a single spell?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't know if it was the wards there, or just me - which is something we should explore when we have time. But things got a bit tense there, especially when Dudley produced a second badge from his room that was in a baggie with a lead plate he'd swiped. Petunia wrote Dumbledore, demanded my removal as I was clearly endangering their health. He asked her if she wished to remain safe from wizards, as soon as she started to nod, he stunned and obliviated them."

"When was this?"

Harry frowned, and sat quietly for a bit, "I don't remember."

Hermione waited.

"I can't picture Dudley then. Petunia and Vernon didn't change so much. But it does add in more factors to look into later."

Hermione's face was a storm cloud, "You've been obliviated."

Harry shrugged. "Probably. Or it could have been a wild dream. The people most likely to have done it or to have been told about it are beyond answering questions."

"Are there more memories like that?"

Harry sighed, "It doesn't matter. He's dead; they're dead."

"Harry," Hermione said softly, "I know he was far less than a saint."

Harry shrugged, "It's done, and we've a mess to clean up. Were you able to get a hold of the American architects you were going on about last week?"

Hermione held Harry's gaze for a minute then with a nod gave in to his change of topic.

C 3

It was past two in the afternoon, and Harry had yet to get his hands dirty. Though he still felt ready to take a shower, after dealing with bureaucrats all day. Paper pushers and politicians kept trying to swaddle him with procedures and processes. Only Hermione's insistence that Harry try to play nice, kept him from expelling the lot of them from the grounds and paying to rebuild Hogwarts completely free from their interference.

After all, enough of the founders' families had left him as their heir – not to mention the reparations owed to him by the House of Gaunt - that Harry could claim the largest stake among all the descendents of the Founders. An argument that couldn't really stand up in court, at least not simply, but would be praised in the Daily Wizard, even if he had to write it himself, not that Luna would let him. Since Luna began her own paper, she would send him an advance copy for him to edit, with everything he would have written if she hadn't seen him writing it. Harry sometimes wished Dumbledore's portrait had been recovered, to ask why of the few rules of the school Dumbledore had actually followed, why requiring Luna to take an inhibitor potion to reduce her abilities to see the future had been one of them.

Hermione and her team of 'experts', that really seemed too awed of someone half their age to be healthy, had declared that the wild magic would be too active today to work until 4. Apparently the full moon occurring during the day would make the whole area extra energized. So Harry went through the accumulated mail from the last few days. Hedwig hooted from her perch, as Harry began the series of spells to sort the mail, test for spells and hexes, and mute and transcribe howlers. Hedwig only was allowed to bring mail to Hermione now, and it was clear the owl knew when Harry was only making work for her. Somehow it had been made clear to Harry that the only reason Harry was getting away with it was that Hedwig was humoring him.

Harry recorded in his logbook the hexed mail's supposed sender and spell signature by hand; then used the copy spell to record the contents. Unfortunately they hadn't yet found a way do all 3 in one; the only one Hermione had found only recorded the stated sender and the contents. Most people who sent nasty hexes didn't leave a name, or left someone else's (Harry got a lot of hexes from the dead), and wards could only rebound with a magical signature anyway. So Harry just did his best to avoid reading the contents of the letters, not wanting to spoil the rest of his day. The log was charmed to beep if a specific or immediate time was mentioned.

After logging in all the hexed letters, Harry gave into temptation and grabbed the big boxes from Salem Book Company. With a final spell to check for any noxious substances, Harry tore into the first box, and slipping his hands under the ads and invoice, pulled out the books. American Wizards, it seemed, had far more instructional home repair manuals and great 'career re-education' manuals for adult independent study.

At three that afternoon, Harry ventured out of the tent, holding in front of him a door sized lattice weave of thin lead wires that despite being reinforced by a framework of aluminum pipes, was slumping a bit under its own weight. He had no idea how much if any it would ward off the spurts of wild magic that had been so bright the hour before that bursts of light had shone through the seams of the tent, like lightning. The rubber intertube that Harry had slit to use as a covering for the center handle bar provided little comfort to his hands, with the death grip he had to keep, to hold the shield up. It was like walking into a near gale force wind, with an umbrella in front of him. Despite the lattice structure, wild magic didn't pass the lead, verifying Harry's theory.

Harry slowly moved backwards, and went back into the tent. Marveling that the tent showed none of the pressure the shield seemed to. Setting the shield against the post he'd created for it earlier Harry quickly did a series of tests with his wand. The aluminum frame – all behind the lead showed no significant temperature change. The lead however was a bit warmer but barely a degree. Now it was time for his next experiment.

Given the strength of the disturbance today, Harry set aside the idea of using the copper wire he had acquired, instead using copper tubing he constructed a series of 3 concentric circles, connected to the lead shield with rubber clamps, and each circle with a thick rope of insulated copper connected to the bottom. The wires trailed off about 20 feet, connecting to a copper stake. Layering asbestos lined mitts over his dragonhide gloves Harry went once more into the breach.

Harry stepped out, expecting to have to force his way forward, and nearly toppled over as the force was greatly decreased. The wires became stiff, digging into the ground, solid until the point that they passed the lead shield. Harry crept forward, wanting to halve the distance between their tent and the ruins. As soon as he had reached the granite holder he'd placed days ago, Harry reached with his wandless magic to plant the stake at a 45 degree angle from the plane of the shield.

With the shield on it holder, Harry finally could enjoy the light show of the magic pulsing from the ruins, swirling into the copper rings, and down into the soil. Harry sprinted back to the tent, as he saw the wild magic starting to spill into the void left by the shield. Knowing that the force of the wild magics crashing together in the void might be enough to destroy the tent, Harry forced his magic into his legs to increase his speed, while thanking fate for his laziness. As soon as Harry got in the tent, he grabbed a handful of lead pipes, and went back out, spiking the lead pipes in the ground in wide arc centered on the shield, and the flap of the tent. His hair began rising on the back of his neck, as he levitated the full load out of the tent by focusing on the pallet it was on. Grabbing another handful he stuck them in between those he'd already placed. Then conjured ropes to strap the rest to the pallet, and ran inside.

Hermione wasn't going to be impressed. Especially if that copper melted.

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