"Potter!" her voice blew softly past him on the breeze.

He ignored it. He wasn't listening. He was watching. The world was about to click back into order. He needed to see it.

He'd been waiting for this for months. The summer had been hot and dry. With little wind and little rain, the architects had been able to rebuild Hogwarts in excellent time.

Harry had committed himself to assisting with any job he could to undo the damage that had been done there. But each fallen block, each bloodstained tile, each pile of rubble served as a reminder of just how deeply indebted he was to everyone who had fought, and especially to those who'd died, to defend these grounds.

He'd begun the summer hoping for a small sense of relief as the world visibly returned to its former order, but his nights had remained sleepless and his days long and arduous. Eventually, he'd learned to keep his focus strictly bound to each task assigned to him. If he did that, then the unplanned vastness of his own future gaping wide before him wasn't quite so troubling. The burning ache of guilt and regret that haunted him was dulled.

"Harry, are you there?"

Regardless of his efforts to remain remote, each funeral had been devastating. Grief bound up in his throat at each one, cutting off his voice and squeezing the air from his chest. Somehow he'd shoved down the crushing sense of loss and the putrid remorse roiling in his stomach at every one of them. He'd ignored the sensation that the floor had vanished beneath his feet and he'd remained strong for each grieving family.

Holding Ginny as she sobbed at Fred's wake, he'd forced himself to remain detached, as absent as possible, until he was finally able to leave. Any notion that he was paying Fred tremendous disrespect by doing so was simply added to the colossal weight of the shame he already bore. He'd hardly noticed.

"Where have you gotten to?"

But as new wings were raised and old portraits retuned to their rightful places in the castle, Harry knew he was finally doing something to put the world right again. Focusing of the physical task of rebuilding Hogwarts had been cathartic, but it was also practically finished.

The roof of the Astronomy Tower floated delicately into place above him, the last piece of this enormous puzzle. Nearly there now.

"Hello, Head Mistress," he called out.

Professor McGonagall had been one of the only people at Hogwarts that was not a professional builder for the majority of the summer holiday, so he'd grown very used to her shouting for him on a regular basis.

"I've received an owl, Harry. I – "

"They're raising the last piece," he interrupted. "In a few seconds, it will all be back as it should be."

She made a sucking sound with her teeth and continued. "I've received word from the Ministry. They've located the missing Death Eaters and trials will begin shortly after the school year commences. It seems they will require you to testify at a number of them."

Harry wasn't surprised. He'd been expecting a summons to court any day now. "Who will I be testifying against?"

She scanned the parchment in her hand. "That's not yet been settled. It seems there will be dozes of trials, although so far they can only confirm you will be required for the trial of Vincent Crabbe Sr. on the fifteenth of this month."

Harry watched silently as the roof settled itself into place with a great groan and crunch. The seams filled in around it, and the tower looked for all the world as if it had stood there for centuries as it did now.

"Harry, you must understand that some of the trials that you will be required to participate in will involve some of the students arriving today. Unfortunately, that means that I will not be able to permit you to become involved in any extra-curricular activities until this is all settled. You must not be seen to have any ulterior motive to putting these young people in Azkaban, even a motive so petty as Quidditch."

She regarded him strangely as silence stretched between them. "Have you any questions, Mr. Potter?"

"I can't think of a thing."

"Well then, you'd best get your robes sorted out. The others will be arriving within the hour. I'd imagine you're quite looking forward to completing your Seventh Year."

It seemed more like moments. By the time he'd made it down from the dormitory to the Great Hall, the castle had exploded with life and sound. Pleasantly, no one seemed to bare him much attention and he was able to pass through the crowds as anonymously as he once had. Ginny burst up from her seat when she saw him approaching, and threw her arms around him when he reached their bench. She kissed him hard on the mouth and crushed his shoulders with her skinny arms.

She smells like flowers, he thought absently as he seated himself next to her. She always smells like flowers.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron said with a smile as he sat down across from him.

"So good to be back, isn't it?" Hermione asked no one in particular. "It's just so good to be back!"

Harry nodded his agreement and let Ginny grip his hand tightly in her own as he scanned the room. The tables were not nearly as crowded as they had been the last time he'd sat down to a welcome feast. The Slytherin population seemed to be down by half, and a row of sullen men in dark robes stood behind their table in a long line.

"Who are they?" Harry asked.

"Guards," Hermione explained in hushed tones. "I heard some were privately hired by families who think Slytherins will be facing prejudice this year, and others were appointed by the Ministry to keep watch of students facing trial."

"If they're facing trial, they should be in Azkaban waiting like the rest of them," Ron put in sourly.

"Everyone deserves an education, Ron. Especially if they're found innocent."

"Yeah," Ginny added. "If their family also happens to have bought and paid for the school's rebuilding they're welcome to come right on back as well."

"SILENCE!" McGonagall called from the front of the room. "Quiet down!"

The sorting ceremony that year was the most pleasant Harry could remember, if only because there were fewer than twenty First Years in attendance. The handful of students sorted into Slytherin received an icy smattering of applause, but the ceremony was generally as boisterous as usual.

As the last First Year settled down at the Ravenclaw table, McGonagall spoke briefly of the events of the past year. Harry did his best to not listen and scanned the Slytherin table and their battalion of guards. It was clear which families had hired their own. These men wore similarly dark robes, but in widely varying styles. However, those who had been appointed by the Ministry dressed in identical blacks with the sigil of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement embroidered on their chests. It appeared that there were only four of them, looming behind Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy with deep frowns creasing their faces. Astoria chatted blithely away to Malfoy, who didn't appear to be hearing a word she said.

He appeared somehow thinner and paler than he'd been the last time Harry had seen him, and utterly exhausted. As their eyes met, Malfoy lifted his chin in a curt nod and turned away, revealing a deep purple bruise staining his right cheek. It bled down past the sharp angle of his jaw onto his neck where it disappeared into his robes.

Harry was quite pleased to note this.

The Common Room was warm and filled with happy chatter that night. First years introduced themselves nervously to the portraits and futilely attempted a few of the simpler charms in their textbooks. The older students buzzed around them, discussing Quidditch and summer travels and other insignificant nonsense.

Harry barely saw them. He couldn't banish the image of Malfoy's bruised face from his mind. He had been expecting a quiet semester with close friends and the dullness of an average school year. Classes, assignments, the occasional criminal trial, mindless chatter, tedium, monotony, languor, ennui, all stretching out into oblivion. But that bruised face burned through the dreary days he'd been envisioning. His pulse felt quicker, as if he was waking up suddenly from a deep sleep. He needed to know what was going on, who had done what to whom and why? A familiar sense of purpose was creeping back into him and he welcomed it.

By the fire, he was sitting on the floor with his back against the huge armchair that Hermione and Ron were crammed into. Ginny rested against his chest, knitting a very lumpy scarf in Gryffindor colours.

"Mum says she'd really like me to learn to knit so we can work on projects together," She explained. "It's sweet, but not especially realistic."

Harry barely heard her. "Why is Malfoy back?" he asked abruptly. As far he knew, Malfoy had finished Seventh Year and should have left with the rest of the students their own age.

Ron shook his head moodily. "Apparently, he missed loads of school after the Easter Holiday and never finished the year. His mother begged McGonagall to let him back in. She says it wasn't his fault he was away. Bloody likely."

"What happened to his face?"

"He was born like that," Ginny answered. "But he got the bruise when he was allowed out to shop for school supplies. Apparently, he was swarmed outside of Flourish and Blotts."

"Allowed out?"

"Didn't you hear? He's been under house arrest all summer with his father. He's facing trial."

"I can't wait until that evil little bastard is put away," Ron commented. "Him and his creepy parents. The whole lot of them."

Hermione harrumphed. "We don't know how guilty he really is. He could easily have given Harry away last year when the Snatchers got us, but he pretended not to recognize him. He practically saved our lives."

"More like he was too dense to recognize him, Herm. You give him way too much credit. That git would have given Harry up in a heartbeat if he'd been sure it was him, right Harry?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe I should ask him."

"You can't ask him!" Hermione hissed at them. "You might have to testify against him! We shouldn't even be talking about this, anyway. I'm going to bed. Ginny?"

"Good night," Ginny muttered, picking at a massive knot in her yarn. She made no move to follow her.

Classes began the next morning. Harry and Ginny chose seats at the back of the Potions class behind Ron and Hermione. She grabbed onto his hand beneath the table as she chatted with the others, and Harry silently watched the seats fill up around them. Slughorn smiled and quickly nodded at the group of them and returned to sorting through enormous stacks of parchment on his desk.

Harry was disappointed to notice that Malfoy was not among the Slytherins filling the other side of the room. He'd been planning to look for more bruises, and perhaps to do a bit of light eavesdropping.

Two huge Ministry guards stood blocking the storage room to their right, but neither of them appeared to be the ones he'd seen in the Great Hall the night before. This was disappointing. From what Harry could see of the door behind the pair of them, it was locked with heavy chains. Slughorn seemed to be putting forth a great deal of effort to ignore them.

Appearing to finally have his papers in order, the professor cleared his throat and smiled broadly at his students.

"So wonderful to see all of you," he began. "I'm sure you've all heard of the trials going on at the Ministry regarding everything that has happened. Because of this, I've not been permitted to give students access to potion ingredients until all students involved have been found innocent." He cleared his throat. "Or guilty, as the case may be.

"We will be focusing on remedies. Remedies to common ailments, and remedies to common poisons. I'm afraid this will mean a great deal of paper work for the lot of you, but I will be demonstrating the making of each potion as the semester progresses."

Ron sighed heavily and dropped his face to the table as stacks of paper floated down to each student.

"We will begin at the beginning, I should say. The Antidote to Common Poisons, on the first parchment in your… stacks there."

Holding up each item as they were named, he continued. "It requires Standard Ingredient, unicorn horn, mistletoe berries and – " He stopped suddenly. "For Merlin's… where have I left it?" He shoved his neatly stacked pages around the desk, obviously annoyed, searching for whatever he was missing.

"Harry, my boy," he half shouted a moment later. "I've forgotten the bezoars. Be a good chap and fetch some from the Head Mistress' office, would you?"

"Her office?" Harry asked. "Not the storage room right here?"

Slughorn eyed the enormous men blocking the entrance uneasily. "Yes. Yes, she'll be keeping the majority of the ingredients in there with her." He cleared his throat again. "It'll be easier this way. Off you go now."

Harry hopped from his seat and wiped his palm on a trouser leg. Ginny had been making his hand sweat unpleasantly by constantly clinging onto it all morning, and a brief break would be a relief.

He walked slowly through the corridors, keeping an eye out for anything amiss. He knew that the school was completely safe now, but he couldn't shake the lingering feeling that something was going on with Malfoy. That bruise had been deep. He'd looked nearly as drawn and miserable as he had in Sixth Year, and Harry's suspicions had been right on the nose about him then.

He was irritated to find that he'd made his way to McGonagall's office without any trouble, and even more so to find two more Ministry guards lurking outside her door.

"I need to – " he began, and one of them motioned brusquely for him to pass.

There were voices inside. He'd come in on the middle of a conversation, it seemed. Harry stopped just out of sight to enjoy some of that eavesdropping in that he'd been hoping for.

"I understand that you will likely miss a great deal of school once again," McGonagall was saying. "However, this year we will make an effort to ensure that you complete your classes. Private tutoring and make-up assignments will be provided. As long as you put forth the effort, you will complete your education here. But, rest assured, if you do not complete your work you will not be returning next year. This is your last chance, do you understand?"

"Yes," came the moody reply. Harry knew that voice. He could imagine the pale, sneering mouth forming the word.

In the mirror just beyond the entrance, Harry could see the back of Malfoy's head and the professor's irritated expression as she spoke to him. He also noted that two guards from the night before were milling about the office. One was quite squat with bristly brown hair and thick stubble coating his cheeks. The taller one was completely bald with a ruddy complexion and broken blood vessels staining his nose a bright ruby red.

"Excellent," McGonagall continued. "Mr. Potter, if you can see me in that mirror I can obviously see you as well. I assume you're here to collect the bezoars that Professor Slughorn has forgotten here?"

Harry felt a flush creep into his cheeks. He used to be much better at sneaking around, he was certain. "Yes, ma'am."

"Please take it. And please escort Mr. Malfoy back to Potions with you. I'm sure he's loathe to miss any more schooling than is absolutely necessary."

She handed a small box to Malfoy and waved them on their way. As Harry watched him he was disappointed to note that the bruise appeared lighter around the edges. Malfoy's swaggering walk seemed hitched, though, as if he was favouring an ankle, which was surprisingly reassuring. Harry realized that he was pleased to see a small wince of pain as they descended the stairs together, in silence. He watched the other boy's pale eyes dart irritably back toward the guards as they walked.

"Stop staring at me, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "You're staring at me."

Harry felt the flush creeping back up again. He was certain he'd been better at this sort of thing before as well. Gawping openly at a person of interest rarely solved a mystery.

"How was your summer?" he asked stupidly, immediately regretting it. There was no call for small talk.

Malfoy looked at him as if he was sure he'd misunderstood. "I was under house arrest with my parents. My summer was long and awful. Very, very long."

"Oh. Yeah."

"I heard you were here the whole time, which sounds even worse. But, I suppose you had plenty of funerals to break up the tedium."

"What was that?"

Harry felt his ire rising, that familiar building of tension in his neck trickling down his arms and making his hands ball into fists. He'd missed this feeling.

"I just mean you must have had a terrible summer. Also. We both did. Right?"

Harry remained silent and simply picked up his pace in response. Draco sped up as well, slightly hopping to keep the weight off of his right foot, but Harry was having none of it. He sped up again, nearly jogging now. Draco was keeping up with difficulty, grunting slightly with every other step.

"Come on," Draco panted. "I meant – "

"Oi, you," one of the guards barked. "Slow it down."

"No running in the halls, young man," the other laughed.

Harry snatched the box of bezoars from the other boy and sprinted away, feeling for the first time in months, completely content.