Credit should be given where credit is due. This fanfiction could not have been made without inspiration from this tumblr post:
post/94474557945/imagine-hogwarts-after-the-battle-after-the-war
The previous inspired the story. Some ideas I have taken nearly word-for-word, others I have expanded from base ideas given in the post. As well as of course, in being a fanfiction, the Harry Potter series written by J.K. Rowling. I don't pretend to take credit for the larger ideas, more prominent characters, or anything past putting it together in this way. Nor do I pretend to own any of these ideas.
But let me be clear.
This story should not be about Hogwarts. It shouldn't be about magic, or Harry Potter, or even the Battle of Hogwarts. These are only devices used to tell a smaller, much more personal story. If I've done it justice, the following should be about people, war, and the effects of a society that refuses to move forward on the people stuck within it.
And I don't claim to be an expert on those subjects. I myself have never been to war, nor do I claim to know the struggles of those who have. I'm simply a man with an opinion. A pretentious one, sure. But an opinion to argue none the less.
"There is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre." - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five
The stone dungeon walls of Professor Slughorn's office gleamed with pale light as the algae lining its long and cold cracks hung like birds on a phone wire. Thomas, whom at the time was a second year, sat in the seat directly across from Slughorn's empty desk chair, littered with pictures of old students who long since left the classroom. Clicks of a small, enchanted clock ticked horribly through the air while Thomas sat with his hands spread through his gold hair. He keeled over in the emerald seat as he let his heavy eyes pool their tears onto the floor below him.
His uniform was rifled with dirt and floo powder, his face torn and scarred with scratches and curses he had never heard of and would never learn. His once bright blonde hair now riddled with dirt, and a clear bandaged line across his arm. A memento to the night he would never forget. To the night no one would ever forget.
Suddenly the door was thrown open as Slughorn strolled his way into the room, his eyes wide and red from stress and his robes ripped and tattered from a long night of fighting. Two glasses of firewhiskey carried in ancient hands sat themselves upon the table, as he found himself across from the young Thomas; who threw his hair back leaning against the chair.
"Here," Slughorn's voice poured slowly as he handed a glass to Tom, "We've all had a long night. You've more than earned it."
Tom shook his head as he hugged himself and wiped his eye, "Not thirsty."
"And who… who could be?" Slughorn said, throwing the alcohol down his throat. "Words Tom, they… they can't explain how dreadfully sorry I am about your parents."
The words were harsh to Tom's ears, as he quickly dropped his head low and began to wail into his hands, the professor running over and trying to sooth him. "Tom, it'll be okay," the professor stammered, "The dark lord's gone now; for good. It'll all be okay…"
The world drifted into a bleak gray as everything faded around Tom, as he shook his head away from the day dream.
'Remember what the counselor said,' he repeated in his head while Professor Binns continued his lecture, 'I'll be fine, I'll be okay, I have friends, friends are my family…" he continued to repeat, taking deep breaths in between phrases. Nobody in the classroom took much notice to him, everyone absorbed in their own affairs. He stared at the clock, hoping the next hour to clip by as quick as the battle did. Each insufferable click reminded him of that office. That day.
That horrible day.
Attendance in the castle had dropped over the Summer. Almost all muggle borns and many half-bloods were absent from the roster. After the Battle of Hogwarts, not many parents considered the school to be the safe sanctuary it once was, especially the muggle parents.
And after the last year's particular lessons, what with the Carrows' abuse of students, plenty of pupils had left the school year with a hatred for magic and everything surrounding it. For months after the battle, young witches and wizards across the nation snapped their wands in defiance of the horrible practice.
Nobody could blame them of course, but for those brave enough to bare the return; Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley, two seventh years, had set up group counseling. Luna's job was to help those who weren't supposed to fight and did, or those who below 17 who had simply been caught in the crossfire. Ginny's was for those who were older.
Anyone who had fought for, or lost someone to the battle of Hogwarts, was welcome to come. While those whose parents died fighting for Death Eaters were (reluctantly by Ginny's standards) invited, Tom continued to be the only Slytherin to show.
As the class was dismissed by Mr. Binns, Thomas threw his books into his arms and charged out the door, his eyes eager to see the warm faces of the few he called family.
He charged down to the front doors of the castle, where on the inside of the wall stood, carved into a large grey stone, the names of all those who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. A low, white glowing light was emitting from the many names of those who died. The stones had appeared just after the battle, with McGonagall's mournful words bringing the day to a close.
"Hogwarts will always remember this night," she promised to those in the Great Hall, "and will never forget those who died within its walls."
Tom shook his head again, waking himself from the distraction as he walked through the threshold into the afternoon light. Since the year had started the weather had been more than beautiful on the grounds. Green grass billowed in the afternoon wind as he walked towards the Great Lake, sitting himself against the rocky shore as he waited for the others to arrive.
Stewart walked up behind him, sitting down on the ground next to him. "Hey Tom, ho-how's the day been?" he said quietly.
"Certainly been better," Tom replied, picking up a stone and tossing it into the lake trying to calm his nerves. "How was yours?"
"I-I had divination to-today," he stammered back, tucking his Ravenclaw robes under himself, "I always li-liked divination."
"That's good Stew," he said smiling back at him.
Stewart Ackerley had always been an awkward kid at Hogwarts, but after the battle it seemed it got even worse for him. Shaking, stammering, and nightmares that followed him in broad daylight. The top of his head still burned where a killing curse, just missing his head, had took a line of white hair down the side of his otherwise dark head. His wand, which he had left the evacuation of the battle to get, had picked his hand up and thrown the same curse right back at the Death Eater in retaliation.
Ackerley hadn't used his wand since.
The small group began to trickle in. Jimmy Peakes, a mildly obnoxious short and stocky fifth year, ran in from the Quidditch pitch in his beater garb. Romilda Vane and Derek Jennings, a couple of sixth years, walked from through the front doors arm-in-arm smiling brightly and laughing as they stepped into the sun. Sulking just behind them was Sophia Roper, a tall blonde with a noticeable scar across her right eye. And finally, walking gracefully from the direction of Hagrid's hut with flower crown atop her head, the group grief counselor; Luna Lovegood.
"Hello everyone!" Luna said, her feet collapsing under her as she sat down in the grass, "let's get started shall we. Who'll be first to share this week. Jimmy, would you like to?"
The fifth year leaned back in the grass and swayed his dark hair off to the side. "The Quidditch pitch was booked last week for Slytherin," he started with an aggressive glance at Tom, "So we're not in as good of shape as we should be right now. It's a little frustrating but… I guess we'll get through it."
Nods and smiles went around the circle as Luna spoke again, "And how have the flashes been?"
Jimmy glared at her, "They've been getting worse lately. I was hoping not to talk about that today."
"Jimmy, you know you need to talk about them somet-"
"Drop it," he interrupted harshly, "Romilda, you next."
Jimmy glared at Luna as they stared at each other for a bit. Tom noticed a gleam in Luna's eyes as she stared at Jimmy, a sort of plea for something from him. Her telling eyes said it was something personal, something private between the two of them.
"Well, alright." Romilda continued smiling at the group, her dark skin glimmering in the sunlight. "I've been having a bit of a rough time with the aluminum monster lately." She knocked against the metal extension under her knee, a replacement for the leg she lost in the battle. "But thanks to Derek, I've never been better." She smiled, looking over at Derek and letting her eyes linger over his lips.
"Excellent! I'm so happy we can all make friends at these meetings!" Luna returned.
"A little more than friends if you ask me…" Sophia muttered annoyed under her breath.
"Derek, I think that's your cue to go next!"
Derek Jennings gripped Romilda arm gently as he straightened his back. "Classes are going fine. Everything feels better now going into my final year knowing what I want to be. I think the battle helped with that."
"What do you mean?" Jim asked.
"Well, during the battle, Romilda's leg was cursed. It looked just like Dumbledore's hand. It was sort of shriveled up and grey looking. " He paused for a moment, his eyes shut for a second. "And I wasn't really sure what to do…"
"So he cut it clean off," said Romilda rubbing his knee gently with a smile, "and sealed the wound. Madame Pomfrey said had he waited just another second I'd be dead." She grabbed his hands while his closed eyes stared at the ground. "He saved my life." She said with her face beaming at his blushing cheeks.
He smirked as his eyes opened, looking back at Tom. "But yeah, that's when I decided I wanted to be a healer. Before then, I had no clue what I even liked."
"Even better!" said Luna, looking around the group. "Take this as a lesson; even in the worst of times, we find go-"
"Cut the shit, Luna." strained Jimmy from the other side of Tom standing up quickly. "Nothing good came out of this battle, and I won't sit here and listen to you all glorify it!" He finished, storming off towards the castle.
They all sat there awkwardly as Luna began to let her head fall. "Don't take it personally Luna," Sophia said, "We're all dealing with the grief in different ways. He's been a little touchy and grouchy about it lately."
"I better go talk to him." Luna said, standing up slowly and gliding towards the school.
"I'll come with you." Sophia said calmly as she followed Luna.
"Alright guys," said Derek leaning back in the grass and trying to keep the ball rolling, "What about you? Stew, you going this week?"
"I-I don't think so," Stewart replied with a nervous smile, "I-I think I'd j-just like to l-listen." he stammered out looking over at Tom.
"Fair enough. Tom," Derek said calmly, "how're those flashbacks coming along?"
"Well they haven't gotten any better. Seems like just about every night now I wake up from the nightmares."
"We all have 'em Tommy." Derek said with his eyes trying to cool the anxiety he saw in Tom's body, "What are the nightmares about Tom? The battle?"
"Well, yeah." Tom said with his voice shaking to remember.
"You want to tell us? You haven't really talked about what happened yet. Besides Jim, you're the only one that hasn't."
Tom nodded his head slowly. He knew he had to talk about it, but how do you find the words?
"We had been locked up, the younger Slytherins that is," Tom started, slowly and breathing heavy, "by some of the more gruesome soldiers on Hogwart's side. I guess they planned to use us as a bartering chip against the Death Eaters, you know. Dunno who they were but they locked us up over in Hogsmeade. The only problem is, my parents weren't Death Eaters, and when they found out they let me go pretty much immediately."
It was all coming back to him now, as the world faded to the old scene he had replayed over and over in his mind. He was no longer in the warm day of the Hogwarts grounds, but a cooled, dark, haunting night in Hogsmeade.
"I was the oldest one in the group, so it was my responsibility to help the others. They hadn't done anything wrong," he put simply, "They were just kids; they were scared. And I was too."
"But I had a few of Weasley Ghostly Gobstoppers in my pocket, so I started giving them to the kids so they could sneak out of that bar," he continued, "running with them to make sure they evacuated okay. But my parents… my parents had gotten worried that I hadn't gone through the floo network yet, so they went to Hogwarts with the soldiers to try and find me."
His voice started faltering as the group leaned in around him, their hearts on the beating fast, their arms ready to fling comfort at Thomas in an instant.
"And they did," he said, wiping a tear from his face. "They found me right outside the Three Broomsticks, just as the gobstoppers wore off… I was in the middle of helping the last kid… and I guess they called my name or something because people started rushing out of every building looking for the noise."
"When they saw my parents, I-I don't know if it was on purpose, but spells started flying. I dropped to the ground and crawled my way to my parents. My Dad picked me up while my Mom threw up a shield to protect us. But in the split second where it wasn't up…"
He paused, trying to hold back the tears. He breathed in heavily as he coughed back a whimper. His eyes were red with tears, his throat was burning to scream.
"And that's- that's when the first curse hit."
Tom was crying into Stewart's chest now, as the group crowded around him holding him.
"Oh Tom!" Derek whimpered as he pulled at Tom's body, "It'll be okay! It'll be fine!"
"They weren't Death Eaters!" Tom cried out, trying desperately to gasp for air as his mind got lost in the memory.
"It'll be okay bud! It's over now!" Romilda pleaded, brushing the hair out of Tom's face.
It took a few moments for Tom to calm down as the group stayed in a circle around him. Everyone reassuring him that the battle was over, that everything would be okay, that they were there for him. And as Tom's screaming turned to calm whimpers, he still wasn't convinced the battle was over.
When the group ended, and he walked back to his dorm with Stewart's arm comforting him with pats on the back, he lay in his bed and stared at the picture of his parents next to him.
"You sure you want to go to bed?" Stew asked before leaving the dorm, "It's only like, 4 o'clock.
"Yeah, I just want to relax my eyes."
"A-Alright. S-See you tomorrow." Stew said as he shut the door gently behind him.
Tom let memories fade back to him. Not from the war, but from the good times. Birthday parties, broom-flying lessons, games of quaffle-ball in the backyard.
He knew those times were gone and over, but for some reason he had not given up on them yet. A part of him still thought that maybe, somehow, his parents had lived. in a way. The comfort he found in his new friends, the warmth of home in their smiles. That was his parents now.
That was a nice thought.
And as he shut his eyes to fall asleep, holding his hand over the scar on his left arm, his mind allowed him the first night of peaceful rest since the war ended.