It had always baffled Alice that Hogwarts didn't have any kind of indoor exercise room or, at the very least a running track. It seemed witches and wizards were not overly preoccupied with physical fitness. Throughout her school years she had made do with running up and down the school's many staircases and through its twisting corridors. When the weather permitted, which in Scotland was rare, she would run along the path which circled the lake. Now it was summertime and she could use the makeshift track almost every day. The routine was as good for her as the exercise.
Alice ran steadily along the path, enjoying the cool dawn air rising off the water. She liked to get there early to hear the world waking up around her while she ran. The sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing were occasionally intermingled with the strange cry of an anonymous magical creature from far in the forest. She forced herself to focus on the sounds around her and on the feeling of her feet hitting the ground. Her legs burned as she pushed herself to go faster and faster. Her lungs were on fire, and her breath came out in ragged gasps.
As she turned the corner, the ruined spires of Hogwarts came into view. She slowed her pace down to a light jog as she approached the castle. They had accomplished much over the past two months, but there were still a lot of repairs do be done. The main priority was to prepare the school for the upcoming term. Projects like the astronomy tower had taken a backseat to the restoration of the main rooms and corridors. The tower which housed the Ravenclaw common room had been badly damaged but was well on its way to being livable again. Luckily for Alice, the Gryffindor common room had been untouched, and she had taken up residence as the sole occupant of the seventh-year girls' dorm. She, Neville, and Seamus were the only Gryffindor students from their year who would be returning to complete their education, although she would be welcoming a number of former sixth-years to her room come September.
The main entrance to Hogwarts was cast wide open and she could see from the distance a few figures making their way down the main staircase towards the great hall. A quick tempus spelltold her that breakfast had started twenty minutes ago. She stopped for a moment and stretched, letting her breathing return to normal. She decided she would pop into the great hall to grab a snack before heading to her room to shower and change for the day of work ahead. The great hall had been completely repaired, and one could see no hint of what had happened there. Alice still paused for a long moment before taking a deep breath and entering the room.
There were not enough people living in the castle to justify the presence of the four house tables, so they had been replaced by a single long table running through the center of the room and a number of smaller circular tables scattered around the sides. The main table was laden down with a rich assortment of breakfast foods. There were a few people sitting at the end of the table helping themselves to the spread. They were mostly curse breakers and other ward experts helping Flitwick with the restoration of the castle's magical defences. Clustered around one of the smaller tables Alice saw Professor McGonagall having a rather heated discussion with Professor Sprout. Unfortunately, McGonagall had also seen Alice and was waving her over.
"Ms. Vale, please join us for a moment," she called out to Alice.
With a small sigh, Alice quickly grabbed a goblet of water from the table then went over to see what all the fuss was about.
McGonagall cast her a warm smile as she approached. "Good morning Ms. Vale. Thank you for joining us. I was hoping you might contribute a voice of reason to this discussion. Our disagreement has to do with the introduction of the new first year students to Hogwarts. It is now evident that it will not be possible to complete the repair of the castle before the next school year begins. I am of the opinion that we should cast a glamour on the school for the night of the Sorting to make it appear undamaged. That way, as the first-year students approach the castle from the lake, they will not be presented with a ruin!"
"Minerva," cut in Professor Sprout, "there's no sense in lying to the children."
"It will hardly be lying! Since the founding of the school, every first year class has had the privilege of seeing Hogwarts in all its beauty. Why should we deny that to our new students?"
"I agree with Professor Sprout," said Alice. "The battle happened and we shouldn't try to hide it, even from the new first years. If they don't see the consequences of what happened here they won't really understand the magnitude of it all. Besides, most of them would have heard about the damage already and would probably be more confused to see the castle intact."
"Thank you, Ms. Vale, for contributing a voice of reason to our discussion," said Professor Sprout.
McGonagall shot her a withering glare. "But surely you agree that the muggleborn students wouldn't understand? Your first look at Hogwarts is supposed to be magical."
"They'll understand soon enough," replied Alice.
"Ms. Vale…" said McGonagall. There was a flash of pity in her eyes that made Alice want to scream.
"Besides," Alice said lightly, "I imagine that a few crumbling spires will make the old place look even more magical. I was certainly expecting something a tad more sinister when I arrived."
"Quite right," said Sprout. "We do no one any good by burying the past. Thank you for your input Ms. Vale. We apologize for keeping you from your breakfast."
McGonagall did not seem to think the matter was so settled, but she relented nonetheless. "Yes, thank you Ms. Vale. Enjoy your meal."
"Anytime," replied Alice. She turned around and walked a bit too quickly towards the banquet table. What she really wanted was to be left alone, but she doubted telling them that would be very productive. She knew that McGonagall had gone to great lengths to keep the reporters away from her, and for that she was truly grateful. But, the woman seemed determined to seek Alice's opinion on all sorts of inconsequential topics.
Alice grabbed a plate and loaded it with food. She pulled out her wand and cast a quick immobulus on the whole ensemble and strode out of the hall, refusing to meet anyone's eye. She ate a roll as she walked, passing no one on her way back to her room.
"Password?" asked the portrait of the Fat Lady as Alice approached.
"Pickled toad," replied Alice. She didn't break her stride as the portrait swung open in front of her. She was the only Gryffindor student currently living in the castle. Neville had stayed for a few weeks in the beginning along with a handful of the sixth years, but they had since gone back to their families. They would stop by the castle a few times a week to help with repairs, but they had no business in the dorm.
The common room looked the same as it always had. Bright cheerful tapestries and banners of red and gold adorned the walls. The room was littered with plush armchairs and solid wood tables. The fireplace was empty, but daylight was spilling through the high windows covering the room in a warm golden light. Alice didn't pause to appreciate the sight as she walked through the room, her mind elsewhere as she climbed the stairs to her dorm.
The first thing she had done upon moving in was to have Dobby remove all the beds except for one, and bring up some extra furniture. He had brought her a desk, a bookshelf, and a large sofa with a plain coffee table in front of it. She sat at her desk with her breakfast and pulled out the book she had been reading the night before. 'The Wonderful World of Wards'proclaimed the cover of the book in excessively large, multicolour font. Despite its rather gaudy cover, Alice was finding it to be an excellent read. She had always been interested in warding magic and she now had the opportunity to learn about it in great depth while assisting with the repair of the castle's defences. As she settled in, she realized that she had completely forgotten to bring any kind of eating utensil. With a sigh, she drew her wand from the holster on her forearm and transfigured one of her quills into a fork. She frowned at it for a moment before casting a quick scourgify on it.She replaced her wand and dug in, losing herself in a description of recursive ward structures.
When she had finished eating, she carefully put her book away, turned her fork back into a quill, and replaced it with the rest of her stationery. She rose and went to her bathroom to shower. She untied her long hair and undressed quickly, leaving her wand holstered on her arm. She used to love to take long showers, but now she found they left her too much time alone with her thoughts.
She washed quickly but still her mind turned to the expression of pity she had seen of McGonagall's face. She felt familiar anger creeping through her chest. She was not someone to be looked down on and pitied. They had all paid a price for victory. A powerful wave of emotion crashed over her and she quickly pushed those thoughts far away. She took deep breaths and turned up the temperature of the water. She focused on the feeling of the water washing over her body, scalding her skin, until she felt her usual calm emptiness returning. All her occlumency training had had the welcomed side effect of making her very good at compartmentalizing her thoughts.
She stepped out of the shower and drew her wand. "Tergeo," she said, focusing on casting the spell gently. The water siphoned off her skin, falling in a puddle on the ground around her feet. She wrapped her still wet hair in a towel and began to walk out of the bathroom, pausing in front of the full-length mirror.
She had begun to regain some weight, but she was still too thin. The month she'd spent in bed after the Battle had all but wasted her away. But that at least would heal with time. She could not say the same about the collection of curse scars that marred her body. There was the faint one on her cheek, invisible unless illuminated at just the right angle. She raised her hand to glide lightly along it, feeling the slight indentation in her skin. It could be worse, she could have a great huge red scar right on her forehead like Harry had had.
Her mind pulled away from the thought almost reflexively. She looked instead at the dark red vertical line, almost in the centre of the back of her right hand. The skin was twisted and puckered around it, and she could see faint black lines spreading around it like a spider's web. It was still healing, but it would never disappear completely. Neither would its twin in the palm of her hand, where the knife had entered.
Worse still were the letters crudely carved into the side of her left arm. Mudblood. The scar was still red, but it was healing much better than the one on her hand. She gazed at it for a while, contemplating the movements the blade must have taken. A large slice up on the 'd' and a matching one down on the 'b'. She refused to feel ashamed. That's what Bellatrix would have wanted and she would not give the woman the satisfaction, even in death.
Finally, her gaze trailed down. Most of her right side, above her hip and reaching part-way up her rib cage, was covered in leathery, mangled skin. It looked like a burn scar, though no one had been able to figure out exactly which curse had caused it. She ran her fingers lightly on it and could barely feel her own touch. Voldemort's final spell had not succeeded in taking her life, but it had certainly come very close.
Her hand fell to her side and she raised her head to look at her face in the mirror. Her familiar dark brown eyes stared back at her. She tried to smile, but it looked forced. She would definitely have to work on that. Hopefully that was not how she looked every time she tried to smile. Her muscles relaxed into a blank expression that felt far more comfortable. She knew she should get moving, but she continued to stare into her own eyes. She felt immobilized, like Narcissus staring into the water.
She raised her fist and punched the mirror with all her force. Pain exploded in her hand and she felt tiny shards of glass drive into her skin. The glass shattered and cascaded down around her feet. She slowly lowered her hand and stared blankly at the plain wood backing of the mirror. It was not carved or polished like the rest of the frame. She closed her eyes. She focused on the feeling of her blood trickling down her hand and the pain radiating out from her knuckles. She felt her magic sparking around each drop of blood. It was as if as barrier between her and the world had been broken, and all her power was seeping out through those tiny cuts.
After a few long moments, she opened her eyes and raised her hand again so that the tips of her fingers were barely an inch away from the backing of the frame. She left them there for a moment, inspecting the shallow cuts on the backs of her fingers. Her magic danced and spiraled around her hand, rushing up and spreading across the remains of the mirror. She imagined that she could feel her magic wrapping around every piece of shattered glass that had once been whole.
"Reparo", she whispered. The pieces of glass strewn across the floor began to pick themselves up and fit back into the frame. She felt tiny glass shards slide out of her skin and return to the mirror. As fast as it had broken it was intact again, like nothing had ever happened.
She walked to the cabinet and pulled out a balm which she spread liberally on the scars inflicted by Bellatrix's knife. She then spread a small amount on the shallow cuts on her hand which closed up immediately. One final tergeo to clean off the blood and she was whole again, her magic safely sealed away inside her.