Chapter One: We are not so lucky
I have done the greatest thing in the world, I created Harry Potter!
What's that? Oh. Apparently, I'm not a goddess.
Sorry JK Rowling. I guess you're alone in this one.
You would think that with magic, things would be easier- that we wouldn't have to work so hard to rebuild. Maybe that was the fantasy I had built in my head; after the War was over, things would just be normal. That the castle would just repair itself, and within a week we would be back to classes as usual, Ron, Harry, and I arriving late to Transfiguration and eating dinner in the Great Hall together while our classmates chatted about the Christmas holiday.
We are not so lucky. Not by a long shot.
Hogwarts is being rebuilt piece by piece. The magic and concentration that it requires is outstanding to even rebuild a single wall- and we have thousands to rebuild. Not to mention classrooms to fill with supplies, magical wards to replace, almost irrevocable damage from killing curses to repair, and hundreds to care for. Minerva Professor McGonagall has opened the school to the orphans of the War. It's an admirable idea, but the reality is staggering. The first few orphans came on the train in the weeks immediately following the battle. There were not many to take care of, and they were manageable. By the time word fully spread and the more cautious deemed it safe to send them however; we received train after train after train of orphaned children, begging for a home. We don't have the heart to send any of them away, so for the time being we live like refugees in tents and whatever bedrooms we can find. The sound of crying has become so common to me that I almost ignore it entirely when I hear it.
Luckily we have George to keep most of them entertained, and the oldest of the orphans help take care of the little ones. But at the end of the day, he looks thin and pale and drained, and I can't help but wonder if this isn't too difficult for him. He's never had to try to make anyone laugh without Fred at his side, and he still hasn't taken a free moment to himself to really grieve for him. In my memory, I don't think I can actually picture one without the other. Then again, I said that about his ear too when he lost that. I think it's something I'll get used to. I'm just not sure he ever will. Sometimes I think I hear him crying in the tent next to me at night, but it could just be one of the children. It's too heart breaking to think about him crying alone in his tent at night for me to really ask him about it. I'd rather live with that denial for a bit longer.
It's hard to say that things are rough in the tent town, when we are still so fortunate. The older women think I don't notice that they load our baskets up higher than the others, but Ron never seems to mind. It's because we're part of the 'Golden Trio'. I think the name is tacky, but it seems to have stuck with everyone else. I hate saying it, but they take special care of us, just because of who we are. If I try to refuse food, I get scolded and turned away, so I mostly give it to the kids, and eat only what I absolutely need. If Harry were here, he would tell me to eat more, but the ache of him and Ginny being gone gnaws at my stomach until I think I can't breathe anymore. Eating seems like the last thing on my mind. I never imagined I'd be so dependant on them, but they make things seem calmer when they're here, and it's a little easier to forget how many people are dead when I have Ginny's fiery wit to keep me on my toes and Harry's brooding calm to keep me stable. Now that it's just Ron and I, we're fraying at the seams bit by bit.
When Harry announced he was leaving for a while, we were all prepared for another adventure in the middle of nowhere in a tent. Ron and I had even begun packing, but he made it clear at that point that he was going alone. We didn't ask many questions when he said he wanted to find the Dursleys. I guess in light of all the horror they've put him through, they're still some form of family to him, and in this day and age, when there's so much destruction and so many lives ruined, you cling to whatever family you've got. Ginny threw a riot and demanded to be taken with him, and after days of arguing, he finally consented. They left 3 weeks ago. We haven't heard a word from them since. After the first week, it was expected, during the second week, we got concerned. This week, Molly and Arthur appeared here at Hogwarts to help the renovation process. We can tell they're worried.
Arthur's been particularly helpful in reconstructing the Great Hall. It's our first big project, and he's pulled out muggle blueprints to help speed the process along. If we can finish the Great Hall, it'll give us a real sense of foundation, and a place for all these children to get out of the cold in the upcoming winter months. Molly does what Molly's always done- she cooks for more children than she has resources for and takes care of the little ones. Watching her walk around with the Weasley children was always like watching a mother hen and her chicks. Well now Molly has an entire farm full of chicks, and she seems happy. But she has moments where she's far away and foggy, as if she doesn't know where she is and I can just see her start to form Fred's name on her lips, when she'll stop, smile, and continue on as if nothing's wrong. I don't know how long it'll be until her and Arthur abandon ship and go searching after Ginny and Harry themselves. I'm tempted to join them.
Percy is the only one who seems at home in chaos. I guess it comes from all that time at the Ministry, but he has a way of looking all this ugliness in the face and not making it seem so bad. It's really a change from the Head Boy that I used to study with, and it's noticeable to his entire family. I guess half of it is guilt at watching Fred die, but I haven't had a chance to really have any kind of conversation with him since we got the last large group of orphans in. We all stay in tents next to each other, but we're more like strangers in the suburbs. We all wake too early in the morning to be sociable and are too exhausted at the end of the night to really have a decent conversation. We pass our group meals in silence after the children have been put to bed and collapse into our beds at night too tired to think.
I haven't had any luck contacting my parents yet. I'll get to it when I have time.
Hermione drew a thin line at the end of her last page and tucked the small leather book underneath her pillow with her wand. She didn't feel the need to sign off or give any formal sort of goodbye to the journal- after all, she wasn't 12 anymore. This journal was specifically so that years from now when someone boastfully stated 'I could build Rome in a day', she could hex them to a chair and force them to read it, bit by painful bit. She gnawed on her lip thoughtfully for a moment, and cast a vanishing spell on the book so she would be the only one to find it. She didn't want one of the children coming in, reading it, and thinking they were a burden.
Tousling her own bushy brown hair, she sighed, and pulled on a thin t-shirt and a pair of comfortable blue jeans for the day's activities, and pushed back the flap to her tent, staring at the sky. The sun had just barely peaked over the horizon, but she knew full on daylight wouldn't be far behind. She tucked her wand into her back pocket, grabbing the basket at her tent flap that was patiently waiting there. Trudging in her bare feet to the tent directly across from hers, she let herself in without any form of announcement and smiled tenderly. A burly redhead was still fast asleep on a cot, and she sat on the bed next to him, placing the basket on the floor.
"Ron, we have things to do." She shoved his shoulder as sweetly as she could manage, and then tucked her chin onto his shoulder so her mouth was next to his ear. "Please wake up. It's morning."
"FFrfdga reaaefd kurrrnm." He announced into his pillow, harrumphing angrily and rolling away from her.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak that language. You'll have to pick another one." He turned back towards her, and lazily opened his eyes.
"It's not morning yet. It's too soon to be morning. It was just night time." She picked up the basket from the floor and swung it tantalizingly in front of him. "I love you. D'you know that? I do. I. Love. You." He shot up and kissed her fiercely, stealing the basket from her in the process and rummaging through it for what he wanted.
"So I've heard. We're rebuilding the east wall today, so you'll need all the strength you can manage." He peeled an orange while she turned his bed into a makeshift breakfast table, setting the rest of the food in the basket in front of them. "Your dad says that we might be done with it by tonight. The east wall, that is. Professor Flitwick was looking into the charm that created the ceiling, and he thinks that he can replicate it, and maybe even make it better than-"
"Hermione, you're babbling." Ron looked at her somberly as he shoved a slice of orange in his mouth and swallowed it whole. Hermione pursed her lips slightly, but stopped talking. She found the reconstruction of Hogwarts almost as fascinating as she had found its history, but Ron was never very interested in the building process, he just wanted it to be done. In a way, she sympathized. It had been 3 incredibly long months of rebuilding and struggling, but they were getting closer every day. "I'm not even working on the rebuild today. They have me scheduled for counter-spelling today down by the lake with Luna."
"Oh. Well I guess I'll see you at dinner then." Dejected, she started to scoot off the bed, but he caught her around the waist, pulling her down next to him. "Ron, you're squishing your breakfast!"
"Wouldn't it be nice to just wake up here every morning and then go to bed here every night?" He squeezed her so tightly that she thought she might not be able to breathe, but she managed a breathy giggle. "I'm serious, 'Moine. Think about it. You wouldn't have to wake me up every morning, because when you woke up, I'd wake up. We could spend a lot more time together."
"Oh yes, because you would wake up every morning just because I woke up." She let out an unladylike snort and she struggled to break his iron grip around her waist. "Ron, let me go. I have things to do, and so do you."
"I would for you! Besides, it'd be a nice sight, you in the morning in your knickers." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her as she finally managed to get in a good jab at his side, and he let her go with an oof noise. "Fine fine. Have it your way."
"I think people would get the wrong idea if we started shacking up together." She stole a rather sad looking roll from where Ron had squished it and brushed it off a bit before she popped a bit of it into her mouth, glaring at him reproachfully. "Up. Now."
"Let them get the wrong idea. I like the wrong idea. I think its fun." She rolled her eyes at his attempt at wiggling his eyebrows again and bent down to kiss him on the forehead.
"Your mother would hex those eyebrows right off your face." And with that, she left him as he shuddered at the thought. She bit back a laugh as she looked at row upon row of hopeless little tents, the sky bursting into a crisp, blinding blue as dawn hit and fell into morning. The children would be awake, and hungry, any minute now. It was this moment of silent peace and serenity that was hers every morning- a perfect, frozen moment where her parents were waiting for her back at home, and Harry, Ron and her were going to class, and Professor Sprout was lenient on these warm, carefree days, so it didn't matter much that the boys hadn't finished their homework.
No. She reminded herself, like a sharp slap to the face. We are not so lucky.
A/N: Soooo. Yeah. I'm getting back in the hang of writing. Let me know what you think. Any form of criticism is fine.
Love you all!