Picking Up the Pieces
So this is war… thought Harry as he looked around the broken and shattered remains of Hogwarts. What once was the closest thing to a home for him now laid in ruins. All that had been lost weighed heavily down on his shoulders. Every broken brick, shattered window, and life lost made the weight more oppressing. As if chains had been wrapped tightly around him, slowly constricting and making it harder to breathe.
He slowly descended what used to be the main stairway of the castle onto the front lawn. Students that had been reunited with family and loved ones had gathered outside to set up tents as a place to stay and a refuge for those who's common room had been destroyed. It was hard to believe that nearly 12 hours ago Voldemort marched through these grounds with his army, brandishing a dead Harry Potter like a victory flag.
Harry felt the familiar sensation of eyes on him. Always. Since he first came to this school 7 years ago he always had the same feeling that he was being carefully inspected by those surrounding him. "The Boy Who Lived," they called him. This name did not feel totally correct to him. He had not lived. For a moment he had died. He walked into death's arms and let himself be taken. It was there he was given a choice. To move on to the next great adventure, or return to finish what was started so long ago.
Death had sent him on his way with a promise to return someday, like old acquaintances promising to keep in touch. But Harry, unlike his late adversary, Voldemort, did not fear Death's return. Tom Riddle strived to find a way in this world to cheat the stealthy spectre, and had almost succeeded. Were it not for the bravery displayed at Hogwarts, Voldemort's regime would reign. Not just over the World of Magic, but over Muggle population as well. Harry's comrades had assisted him in returning Voldemort to where he belonged, in Death's manor, alongside everyone put there by his own hand. Like a lost relic that has been restored to its rightful owner, Voldemort was back in the embrace of the very thing he had succeeded in cheating for so many years.
"Harry?" a familiar voice was raised behind him. Harry stopped walking and turned towards a tent with an old woman in a terrible green hat with a vulture sitting atop and a coming of age youth, bandaged and scarred, emerging from the shelter and walking towards him.
"Yes, Neville?" Harry asked.
Neville Longbottom held out the Sword of Gryffindor to Harry. "I don't know what to do with it. My gran says Dumbledore left it for you in his will. A friend of hers works at the Ministry." Neville clarified when he saw the look of slight confusion cross Harry's face.
Harry looked closely at Neville. He remembered 7 years ago a boy who was so clumsy and forgetful, he had trouble taking care of a frog. A boy who in their first year had won them the house cup due to his bravery in standing for what was right, even if it was his friends he was standing up to. A boy who very well could have traded shoes with Harry as the chosen one had Voldemort not visited Harry's home all those years ago.
"Walk with me Neville." Harry responded as he took silent strides toward the lake. He ignored the brief look of confusion and hesitation that crossed Neville's face and continued on. Shortly after, he heard the clumsy and heavy steps of his friend approach. They did not say anything. They walked silently in the setting sun along the edge of the lake of Hogwarts, stopping under the same tree Harry saw his father, Sirius, and Lupin sitting under in the Pensieve filled with Snape's memories.
Harry took a seat at the base of the tree looking over the surface of the water. Neville sat next to him, still silent, waiting for Harry to be the first to speak.
"Neville, when you put on the sorting hat all those years ago, what did it say to you?" Harry asked.
"Why? Is it important?" Neville inquired, nervousness still present in his voice.
"Important? Probably not. I am just curious." Harry didn't feel like explaining why he wanted to know the reason Neville was a Gryffindor. It wasn't that he doubted Neville's courage. Quite the opposite. Harry wanted to ensure that Neville understood the significance of him being able to wield that sword, a sword that only a true Gryffindor could call upon in their time of need.
Neville's gaze lowered to the jeweled weapon still cradled in his hands. "It recognized me as a Longbottom. It knew my parents. It said at first glance to everyone else, I would belong to Hufflepuff. A house who's reputation is a refuge for all who don't belong." Neville paused. Harry turned his head to look at him as a single tear glided down his nose. Harry knew Neville probably revisited this thought many times while he was at Hogwarts. A seed of doubt planted inside him that always made him second guess his place amongst his friends. Always wondering if he truly belonged in Gryffindor.
Neville sniffed and continued on. "But then it said I had something that few others possessed. And it so happened that it was a crucial trait of another house…"
"Bravery." Harry finished for him. Neville nodded in acknowledgement.
"It must've sensed my doubt or read my mind or something. I certainly didn't know where it came up with the idea of me being brave. But it talked about my parents, and how I have had to live without them knowing my face or telling me they love me. It acknowledged my desire to talk to them and make them proud. The hat told me that the ideas I had of bravery and courage were wrong. It said I had a big part to play in the near future. It talked about some kind of terrible fortune that would have been mine had another soul not taken the burden. Told me to keep my courage in the coming years and find those who can show me the love my parents were unable to demonstrate. It put me in Gryffindor and that was the end of it."
A tinge of bitterness mixed with doubt hung in the last words Neville spoke. Even after everything that had happened, Harry got the feeling Neville still wasn't too sure of himself.
Harry wanted to change that.
A smile slowly crept up Harry's face as he looked at Neville. "Neville, that hat was right."
Neville wiped the tears from his cheek and looked at Harry. "What do you mean?"
"The Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor because of your bravery and courage. Neville, did you ever think about the danger you were facing when we went into the ministry and fought those Death Eaters? Did you think about doing what the Carrows wanted in order to save yourself the pain and torture they put you through? Did you stop and think about what might have happened to you before you rushed to fight Voldemort when you thought I was dead?" Harry asked, his voice rising and still in wonder of the brave wizard before him.
"No… Not really. I mean… I guess those options never occurred to me."
"Exactly! Neville, you were meant to be a Gryffindor! You are one of the bravest wizards I have ever met. Your kindness goes so far beyond normal boundaries. You fight so hard for the ones you love, so hard that you hold no regard to the possibility of you getting hurt in the process. The sorting hat was right. People view bravery and courage the wrong way. They think that in order to be brave you need to fight. They think courage is displayed on the battlefield. Bravery and courage are not exclusive to war but are no less demonstrated by warriors. Dumbledore acknowledged these traits in you in your first year here at Hogwarts, and every year since you have done nothing but prove his assessment correct. You embody the traits that Godric Gryffindor used as the building blocks for our house. That's why you were given the sword from the sorting hat. Because you are a true Gryffindor."
"And that's why the sword must remain here at Hogwarts…" Neville finished, enlightenment touching his face. "So if any true Gryffindor needs a weapon to defend themselves with, this sword will be there."
Harry smiled. "Exactly."
Neville met Harry's gaze and returned the grin. "Blimey, Harry. You sure would make a good headmaster."
Harry laughed. "I think McGonagall has that covered for the many years to come."
"Yeah I suppose so."
They fell silent. A sense of brotherhood resting between them. A result of all they have endured together. Of all the people at Hogwarts, Neville was one of the few who could empathize with Harry. They both understood how it felt to have parents taken from them.
Neville broke the silence. "Luna kissed me." He turned his head to see Harry's reaction, a cheeky grin pulling at his face.
Harry was stunned with happiness, a smile spread across his face and at a loss for words. He certainly didn't see that coming, but he couldn't deny that the two were perfect for each other. "Well then… Looks like somebody has reached 'stud muffin' status, eh?"
Both let out chuckles. It felt good to laugh again. After all that had happened, happiness seemed foreign and unnatural. Harry welcomed the happiness and soaked it in. It made the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.
Neville stood up and looked down at Harry.
"Thank you for being my friend Harry. And thank you for what you said. After what has happened… We all need the encouragement. All of us. It helps us pick up the pieces of what is left. Hopefully we can create something greater than what was before."
"Thank you, Neville. For everything. I couldn't ask for a better mate than you." Harry replied, fully meaning every word he said.
"I'll see you back at the castle." And Neville began making his way back up the grounds.
Watching Neville go, Harry silently thanked his stars for all those whom he shared the bond of friendship with. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, his professors, and even Kreacher. His mind wandered to those he had lost. Cedric, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Dobby, Colin Creevey, his parents… and Snape. The stabbing pain that always accompanied thoughts of these individuals returned, as terrible as ever. But he was comforted with the same thought he had this morning as he entered Dumbledore's office. Happiness will come. Wounds heal, though scars may yet show. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, he could look to tomorrow with a new sense of hope.