August
On an uncharacteristically warm day in August, Harry sat alone by the Great Lake, enveloped within the shade cast by Hogwarts, now in its final stages of renovation since the end of the Second Wizarding War. It felt odd, Harry mused, to be at Hogwarts so late in the summer, when he was no longer officially a student, and to know how ill-prepared he was to leave this place soon, to live the kind of freedom he'd always dreamt of, yet was now afraid to face.
Throughout the summer, it hadn't been difficult for Harry to avoid thinking about the next stage of his life. If he wasn't busy reconstructing the (literal) walls of Hogwarts or re-instating protection wards, he was at the Ministry of Magic working with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, and a team of Aurors to "round up" and convict the remaining supporters of Voldemort.
Even though the focus of his work at the Ministry was admittedly unpleasant (no one, not even the most experienced Aurors at the Ministry, were particularly pleased to recount the atrocities that had been committed by Death Eaters and other followers of Voldemort, or "Voldie's Little Helpers," as some of the more veteran, and "eclectic," Aurors liked to call them), it brought Harry (and the Aurors) relief to know that justice was being served.
It also helped that the majority of the Ministry's Aurors welcomed him openly, treated him as an equal, and respected his opinions while still managing to teach him all they could about the responsibilities and tasks of an Auror. Even though he was never sent out "into the field," and even though it was not official Auror training, Harry felt that he was contributing something positive while learning useful skills in the process.
Looking out over the sparkling surface of the Great Lake, Harry remembered the day in July when Kingsley had visited him in his tiny makeshift cubicle in the Auror Offices in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He'd come to see Harry to offer him a full-time job as an Auror.
"You'll have to work your way up the ranks like everyone else, but you're already a valued part of the team here, Harry. I can't say how many of them have been on my case to offer you the job… but I have a stack of memos to prove it." As he laughed deeply, Kingsley's wide smile shone even in the dim yellow light of the Ministry's Auror Office.
In a similar vein, many people, both inside and outside of the Ministry, had rallied behind Kingsley as the new Minister of Magic in the immediate aftermath of the War. While he'd more than proven his worth during the battle that had taken place at Hogwarts, people had come to see Kingsley as a source of stability, compassion, reassurance, and hope.
With new measures to promote egalitarian relationships and opportunities for positive growth within and outside the Ministry's magical walls, and a full-scale re-organization underway, Kinglsey was proving to be a ray of light in the darkness.
"Best get Robbards to take care of that for you, eh?" Harry commented, referring to an elaborate prank some of the team had played on Auror Robbards earlier that month, a prank which involved hexing a brigade of Ministry memos to encircle, and jab at, the Auror at all times, particularly when using the loo.
Kingsley's sincere laugh filled the room."You see Harry, you fit right in here. But more than that, I'd be honored if you'd be part of this team."
In all honesty, Harry had felt the offer coming for some time, not because he thought himself particularly skilled, or that he deserved it in any way, but because he did feel like he fit in so well here, and because he was so willing and open to learn the ways of an Auror; however, his decision on the offer had not changed since he first suspected its coming.
"I'm honored Minister-"
"Harry," Kingsley bellowed, although not unkindly, "we've talked about you calling me Minister."
"Sorry, Kingsley, I mean- sir… I'm honored that you and everyone else want me as part of the team."
"I hear a 'but' in the works," Kingsley sighed.
"But… right now, I feel like I've had enough experience with dark magic to last me a lifetime… two lifetimes. Probably three. Maybe soon, in a year… or a few years," Harry paused, "If the offer is still valid."
"I had a feeling that would be your answer. Not that I blame you Harry, you've given enough of your life to the cause, more than many of the Aurors here."
Kingsley continued, "But yes, as long as I'm here, the offer stands, if or when you decide to take it up."
"Thank you, sir. And again, I'm grateful that I was considered at all."
"Bah! Some of the Aurors here have been wanting to recruit you since your first year at Hogwarts."
Harry smiled and said, "Some of these guys had too much time on their hands."
Kingsley's sincere laugh shook the room for a moment, startling an innocent memo flying overhead, a few small wisps of parchment landing gently on Harry's shoulder. Harry brushed them off.
"You come back when you're ready, Harry. Merlin, we'll even give you a pass on some of the basic training… as long as you stay in shape of course." Kingsley said, playfully poking Harry in the stomach with the tip of his wand.
"And make" *poke* "sure" *poke* "you let me know if you need anything… anything at all."
"Yes, sir."
As Kingsley turned to walk away, two things rapidly crossed Harry's mind.
"Minister- I mean, Kingsley, sir! There is something!"
Kingsley turned in his spot to face Harry with a quizzical look on his face, a look that was uncommon for Kingsley, a man known to be so steadfastly sure and collected, even in the most difficult situations.
"Within reason of course, Mr. Potter."
"Yes, of course! I just meant… Hermione, Hermione Granger- she's been working so hard to set up Dobby's Hands as a legitimate organization… they do such important-"
"Yes, yes, Harry, you forget that I know Hermione- I dare say she has been as invaluable to so many magic and Muggle folk as she has been to you over the years. I'd be glad to help her, Hagrid, Winky, and Firenze reach their goals. I'll do what I can."
Harry was happy to hear Kingsley's response to his request. Hermione, who, with Dobby's death, had been reminded of her dedication to S.P.E.W., worked so diligently over the summer with Hagrid, Firenze, and Winky to start Dobby's Hands, an organization focused on providing relief to people and creatures, magic and Muggle, affected by the War and other future turmoil, and promoting equality among witches, wizards, house elves, centaurs, and other magical beings and creatures.
At the time of his conversation with Kingsley, Harry knew that Hermione was trying to make headway into the Ministry to gain support and to legitimize Dobby's Hands. He also knew that Hermione, Hagrid, Winky, and Firenze had plans to find a Muggle representative who could expand their efforts among Muggles as well.
They would be pleased to hear that the Minister not only appreciated their hard work, but was interested in helping them grow.
"Is there something else?" Kingsley asked kindly, sensing Harry was not done.
"So many of my friends fought bravely at Hogwarts, but many of them weren't able to take their N.E.W.T.S…. but they're brilliant at Defense. It would mean a lot to me if you considered them for jobs too, if they come looking- Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Ron Weasley, just to name a few."
"Ah, yes. You shouldn't worry, Harry. We know what so many students had to sacrifice this year- much more than their studies. We will give them all their fair shot."
"Thank you, sir. That's all I ask."
As he turned to walk away, Kingsley nodded with a small but genuine smile across his face and thought quietly, 'Harry Potter, he's given everything he never really had much of in the first place, and still wants for nothing but the happiness of others.'
Emerging from this memory, back on Hogwarts' grounds, Harry smiled, glad that it hadn't taken long for Kingsley to start living up to his promises, as he had legitimized Dobby's Hands within the Ministry, even assigned new Ministry officials to help the new department grow, and had accepted Dean Thomas for Auror basic training.
In addition to his Ministry duties and his time rebuilding Hogwarts, Harry had also spent some of his summer meeting in private locations in London with a few trusted members of the press so that he could honor the true events of the War.
While Harry's experiences with the press in years past had been nothing short of loathsome, Hermione and Luna had convinced Harry to meet with them.
"Don't give them the ability to create their own story for publicity," Hermione said firmly. "The story should come from you."
"Yes," Luna said, "too often the press misrepresents people who no longer have a voice," Luna agreed.
Of course, during these press meetings, Harry left out many of the details (whether they were too personal or too difficult to relive, or simply unnecessary to the story Harry felt the public should know). Harry did give credit where credit was due, and was honest about any and all of the events he felt he could accurately speak for.
Harry hadn't spoken too much of Snape, as he was still unable to come to terms with much of the truth of his professor's life. In fact, Harry hadn't spoken to anyone about Snape's memories, not the ones concerning his mother anyway, and he sometimes wondered if he would ever be comfortable enough to share what he'd seen through the pensieve the day he faced Voldemort for the last time.
Despite these factors, Harry made absolutely certain, with the best of his ability, to clear the name Severus Snape, and give him the credit he deserved.
Unfortunately, Harry had spent a significant amount his summer days at funerals honoring those who had given their lives so that others may live, including Fred, Colin, Tonks and Remus. Harry attended them all and had even attempted to manage a few coherent words at some… but he didn't like to think about those days.
While Monday through Saturday were days reserved for the Ministry, funerals, Hogwarts, and the press, Sundays were reserved for classes.
Sunday was the day, every week, when he, Ron, and Hermione would meet with Professor McGonagall in a makeshift Transfiguration classroom, or with Professor Spout in the new greenhouses reconstructed (nearly entirely by Neville and Professor Sprout) not far from Hagrid's hut, or with Professor Slughorn in his makeshift Potions lab, or with Professor Flitwick, who scheduled today's lesson by the Lake.
It's more like Flitwick's and Hermione's class, Harry thought, chuckling to himself, knowing how much "guidance" he and Ron needed in Charms.
These meetings were designated with the purpose of completing the work that was typical for a seventh year student. Of course, it wasn't the same Hogwarts' education he would have received if he could have completed his seventh year as a normal student, but McGonagall and Hermione insisted that even now, after all that had happened, it was important to take and pass the N.E.W.T.S., "For the future," Hermione always said, whenever Ron or Harry would argue against the Sunday lessons.
As much as he and Ron complained about these Sunday "meetings," (although these days it's mostly Ron, Harry mused), Harry found a sense of comfort in them, knowing that Sundays, which were days of rest for the rest of the witches and wizards rebuilding Hogwarts, would serve to distract Harry from his thoughts.
Not only that, but it felt nice to learn as he had in his earlier years as a student, beside his two best friends, and to realize that he'd grown to become rather like equals to the Professors who had taught him for so long. During his eventful weekdays, Harry found himself longing for the normalcy and dependability of Sundays.
Harry was interrupted from these reflections as he heard someone approach. "Harry, you're early." It was Hermione, basket in hand, dressed casually for the day's outdoor Charms lesson.
"I had some free time," Harry admitted, which was true, given the fact that the physical renovations of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts were nearly complete.
Witches, wizards, and other magical beings from all over the world journeyed to Hogwarts to give their support in any way they could. By the end of June, believe it or not, there was no longer room inside the castle for people to stay, not even in the Room of Requirement, so many ventured outdoors, in tents, in order to stay and help rebuild. Harry often wondered why so many chose to stay from day to day, when they could simply apparate home each night.
Apparently, the same thought had crossed Ron's mind on a day earlier in the summer, prompting him to ask a former Durmstrang student the very question Harry had asked himself on numerous occasions. The boy responded, "Ve understand the tragedy of var, and how all must come together to rebuild. Ve vont to show our thanks… this is how."
"Plus," Hermione had added after they'd had a moment to reflect on the student's comment, "splinching is much more likely over greater distances," after which Ron shivered and looked away, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, remembering his own experience with splinching.
Hermione winced, realizing what she had done. Harry attempts to give her a reassuring look.
Harry was awed and overwhelmed not only by the willingness of these relative strangers to rebuild a place they barely knew, but by the amazing strength each individual contributed to the rehabilitation of those who had experienced loss during the War. The community of support served to lift people's spirits, and to propel the renovation of Hogwarts.
Harry (unsurprisingly), found himself as the face of this community of support, as people frequently sought him out to express their gratitude, relief, sadness, anger, and hope, sometimes in the form of a large meeting in the Great Hall, and sometimes in the form of a silent handshake.
Harry, as always, felt discomforted by the attention, and used any available opportunity to explain to others that their gratitude was misplaced. Harry took any chance he could to remind others that he was only a piece of the War effort, and that thanks should be given to those who gave their lives to protect others. In some small way, he felt that this helped sustain the memory of those who had died.
Harry also felt uncomfortable being the face of Hogwarts' community of support because he knew that Hermione was truly responsible for its' success. Throughout the summer, she headed the organization of daily support groups, finding ways for any and every being to contribute, and planning events (like Quidditch tournaments and biweekly gatherings or organizational meetings in the Great Hall) to motivate others and build morale.
Not only that, but she worked closely with the Ministry's Muggle Liaison Office and the newly formed Dobby's Hands to help support magical and Muggle communities all around the United Kingdom, linking families affected by the War to the services and resources they needed to rebuild their own lives.
Of course, Hermione had the help and support of others, but Harry knew she was the driving force behind it all. In this way, Harry knew that, like himself, Hermione was forgetting to take care of herself. As if to reaffirm this knowledge, Harry noticed the evident exhaustion in her eyes as she stood next to him by the Lake.
"I brought some iced pumpkin juice from the kitchens since it's so hot today."
"Thanks, Hermione. Have you seen Ron around?"
"No… I feel like I haven't seen him once since last Sunday actually," Hermione said, her eyes downcast.
Harry noticed an undertone of sadness in her voice that he realized had been present for weeks now, particularly when Ron was the subject of conversation. "I don't feel like I've seen you since last Sunday either," she continued, looking up to meet Harry's concerned gaze.
Harry nodded. As much as he appreciated all the distractions the process of rebuilding had given him, he missed his best friends. He also guessed that much of Hermione's sadness was the result of a relationship with Ron that had seemed so promising in May, but hadn't yet had the chance to develop.
Harry was empathetic to Hermione's sadness because his relationship with Ginny continued to be no more than a question lingering in the back of his mind, and a few awkward silences. But this confusion was somehow balanced with the a new comfortable friendship developed between them. All of it had him wondering if the moment they'd shared during the Final Battle was no more than a distant dream.
In the days immediately following the battle, Harry and Ginny had spent some time alone together for comfort, to talk about all that had transpired, and to dream about what might be next for them.
It was during these conversations when Harry realized that Ginny, by no fault of her own, was in the dark when it came to the details of Harry's life. While Harry had once relished in this fact, it now made him a bit… uneasy.
But he felt even more uneasy at the thought of talking with Ginny about everything that had happened over the past year. The search for Horcruxes. The hopelessness and fear. The loneliness. When Ron left. The physical agony and the psychological pain. When Dobby died.
He knew that he continued to withhold information from Ginny, somehow unable to share everything he knew he should. Whether or not she noticed, Harry never knew for sure, but appreciate that Ginny continued to listen without prying.
Maybe she doesn't want to know some things, Harry thought. Who would want to know everything that's happened?
Not so long ago, Ginny's distance from many of the significant events (most of them painful) and people (plenty of them less than pleasant) in Harry's life had allowed Harry to feel he could be "just Harry"- to escape from the turmoil which seemed inextricably linked to him. Now, after all he had been through, witnessed, and learned during the War, Harry realized that those painful experiences had made him who he is, had become important parts of "just Harry." Harry felt that escaping from those difficult times and influences was not only wrong, but disrespectful to the people, now gone, who had helped him through those hardships.
Harry tried to be open and honest with Ginny about his life, but he often found his words blocked by feelings of discomfort and anxiety- again, not by any fault of Ginny's - as if he felt somehow forced to share intimate details of his life with someone he hardly knew, or with someone with whom it was difficult to relate.
Plus, while the cloud of ash and dust had finally seemed to settle around Hogwarts, Harry was still plagued by a cloud of remorse, fear, and something like denial, like some part of him was fighting to believe that the people he cared for were still in danger.
In any case, Harry was not ready to talk about some of the more- challenging- aspects of what had occurred during the battle at Hogwarts, especially not with Ginny.
Sensing his thoughts in the now prolonged silence, Hermione asked, "How's Ginny?"
"Honestly, I wouldn't really know. Now that the castle's almost done she's been spending more and more time at the Burrow and the Quidditch pitch."
For a moment, Harry suddenly felt compelled to talk to Hermione about his relationship, or lack thereof, with Ginny, but he couldn't bring himself to speak a word of it.
Ginny had been a frequent presence at Hogwarts during the immediate aftermath of the War, but after deciding that she would not return to school for her final year, her focus had shifted from helping to rebuild Hogwarts to helping to strengthen her true home- the Burrow- and, with dreams of a career, her Quidditch skills.
"Do you think you'll go there soon, to the Burrow? To be with her, and help Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?"
Harry shrugged, "I don't know. I haven't thought about it much."
Hermione nodded, knowing that Harry had been avoiding thinking about and making plans for his future, much the same way she tried not to consider her own, even if she didn't let on. There was another silence then, as Harry and Hermione looked out over the Lake.
To add to his ever-growing list of concerns and questions, Harry felt very unsure about living at the Burrow. He knew that moving to the Burrow would be the easy thing to do, as the Weasleys were his family, and it would probably give his relationship with Ginny a better chance.
At the same time, Harry feared that moving to the Burrow would be just another distraction from starting his "real life" and facing the emotions he'd been busy burying since the beginning of the War… well, Harry mused honestly, I've been burying things for as long as I can remember.
Harry then thought of Hermione, who, despite her outward show of perseverance and optimism, he was truly worried about, who he'd been worried about for much of the summer, who still hadn't gone to Australia to restore her parents' memories.
"Hermione," Harry started quietly, tentatively, "when are you going to bring back your parents?"
Hermione looked to the ground then, hiding the tears that were beginning to well in her eyes, the way they did whenever someone asked her about her parents. She wondered what Harry must think of her, having parents, but choosing to keep them away.
"You must think I'm a horrible person."
"Of course I don't," Harry said immediately, but gently, "I guess I'm just… I don't know. Won't you feel better to be home with them?" Harry couldn't bring himself to admit to Hermione that he was worried about her, for fear of adding another pressure in her life.
Hermione didn't want to admit that her avoidance to restore her parents memories and bring them home did not stem from a fear that they would be angry with her when she revealed to them what had happened. She knew they would be angry with her, but she also knew her parents. Their anger would quickly diminish, and they would just be happy to be together with their daughter again.
Rather like Harry, her avoidance stemmed from the fact that she knew that she would have to explain and thus relive all that had occurred during the War, that she would have to face how she felt about what transpired during the past year, and most frighteningly, she would have to decide what to do next.
In spite of these fears, Hermione knew that her time to avoid "restarting" her life was running out.
"I'll go with you, if you want. If you're afraid they won't understand why you did what you did."
Hermione smiled sadly, remembering a time not long ago when she'd said similar words to Harry, when she told Harry she would face Voldemort by his side. Hermione wished it were as simple as being afraid that her parents would misunderstand why she altered their memories, but it assured her to know that Harry did not understand her true fears.
He has his own fears to face, she thought, knowing that Harry's time to begin his next chapter was rapidly approaching.
"Thanks, Harry," Hermione responded as gently as she could, afraid that what she was about say next would not sit well with her best friend. "Ron and I talked about going together to Australia soon, and I think it might be best if we stick to that plan. Maybe… maybe then he and I will have some time to…" she trailed off, blushing.
Harry nodded, understanding why Hermione wanted some time alone with Ron, but the sudden thought that his best friends, even in some small way, neither wanted nor needed him, made his chest tighten in a sort of sickening loneliness.
"What about all your work here? And Dobby's Hands?"
"Harry, you know that there are so many other people out there working tirelessly to rebuild, and that some things… some things can only be mended to a certain point- when time has to take over."
Harry nodded, thinking to himself that there are some things that even time can't mend.
"As for Dobby's hands, that was always meant to be run by Hagrid, Winky, and Firenze, and someone who has much more experience with navigating the Ministry. Being right out of school, I would be doing the organization a disservice to be their leader right now. It also wouldn't be best to have a witch or a wizard as the leader of the organization… Plus, Kingsley's given all the support they need now… partly thanks to you."
Hermione smiled, trying to ease some of the tension she could sense brewing between them.
"I need to undo what I did to my parents, and I need to give Ron and I a fair chance…" Hermione observed that it felt odd to say it all aloud.
"Well, then I guess I will go to the Burrow and spend time with Ginny," Harry responded, somewhat more harshly than he'd intended.
As if Hermione cares if I'm at the Burrow with Ginny, without her and Ron, Harry thought flatly.
As she feared, Hermione had struck an unpleasant cord with Harry, but decided not to make an issue of it. She knew he might feel left out if she and Ron went to Australia, but she also knew that Harry and Ginny should also spend time alone. She knew Harry's understanding of relationships was limited.
And your's isn't? She thought sarcastically to herself.
She knew Harry would need a little push in the right direction.
"That might be best. You can help the Weasleys, and you can figure things out with Ginny."
"It seems like we kind of have some things figured out then," Harry ventured with an empty smile, looking Hermione in the eyes, trying to reassure himself, and knowing none of it was true.
"As much as we're ready to figure things out," Hermione responded, believing none of it.
August was coming to a close the night before Hermione and Ron planned to leave for Australia, and Harry for the Burrow. Compared to June, July, and much of August, Hogwarts had now become eerily quiet, which Harry was grateful for, as it made it much easier for him to leave, now that there was very little for him left to use to prevent himself from reflecting on everything he could have done differently over the past year, prevent him from thinking about what he would do next.
Well, at least I passed some N.E.W.T.'s, Harry thought dryly as he walked into the Gryffindor common room to meet Ron before heading down to the Great Hall for dinner, knowing that passing his final Hogwarts' exams in no way offered any guidance for his future.
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked.
"She said she has to finish packing for tomorrow," Ron replied. Harry nodded, understanding, but feeling disappointed they wouldn't be sharing a final Hogwarts' meal together.
As they made their way down to the Great Hall, passing all manner of portraits waving, whispering, sleeping, and arguing, Harry mused that the War had changed Ron, as it had changed everyone, in some ways for the better and in some ways for worse.
The loss of Fred had left a mark on Ron that would never quite heal, a mark that had, for weeks, kept Ron away from joy and laughter; however, the War efforts had uncovered Ron's often-hidden determination and hard work, both of which were usually reserved for only the most necessary of moments, and had prompted him to put all he could into helping Hogwarts, and more significantly, his family.
He'd even mustered up the strength to run Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for George. While George had, unfathomably to many, continued to be a source of merriment, pranks, and laughter throughout the summer at Hogwarts, he could not yet bear to set foot in the shop he'd started with his twin.
Harry remembered the day, during lunch in the Great Hall, when Ron resolved to re-open the shop for business.
"People need to laugh now more than ever. It's what Fr- it's what Fred would have wanted," Ron said, his voice small but sure.
Harry remembered that George had looked up from his plate then, to give Ron a nod that somehow managed to communicate more sadness and gratitude than any words could.
Harry admired Ron for this determination, and hoped not only that it was here to stay, but that it spread to other aspects of Ron's life, most notably his and Hermione's relationship.
She needs someone she can count on, now more than ever.
Harry's supper with Ron in the Great Hall felt both oddly familiar and unfamiliar; unfamiliar because the long house tables were nearly empty. Familiar were the delicious mince pies and pumpkin juice… not to mention Ron's ever-so-proper table manners.
"Feels strange, eh?" Ron commented, having just taken a bite, a second bite not far away from his mouth.
Harry nodded. "We'll be back though."
"Sure will… you think I could hire one of the House Elves as a personal cook?"
Harry snorted. "If you can get Hermione to go for that."
Ron shook his head in jest. "She just doesn't appreciate good food."
Harry smirked, "Hermione might appreciate good food when it's not falling out of your mouth."
"That hurts, Harry," Ron said flatly.
After they finished up the last bit of a strawberry cream pie, Harry felt that he owed it to Hogwarts to take a tour of its spacious halls, high towers, moving stairways, and shadowy nooks. In his head, Harry knew it wasn't a true goodbye, but in his heart he felt as though each step he took was a door closing on a particular memory, experience, or thought. Harry knew that the things he'd done and seen and felt during his years at Hogwarts would in some way always be a part of him, but he also knew that it was time to begin a new chapter in his life, outside the walls of the first place he'd ever called home.
Not feeling quite adventurous enough to tour the grounds that night, Harry thought it might be a good idea to get a bird's eye view of the grassy slopes of Hogwarts' landscapes.
As Harry ascended the steps of the Astronomy Tower, he chose not to think about the night Dumbledore died. Instead, he reminded himself of his first year at Hogwarts, when he and Hermione had sent little yet fiery Norbert (later known as Roberta) off with Charlie, and the subsequent trouble they'd both gotten into. Back then, the situation had seemed so dangerous and life-altering; Harry now chuckled at the memory.
"Harry, is that you?" Harry was suddenly startled out of his memory at the sound of a familiar voice echoing from the Astronomy Tower's main balcony.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, even though he instantly recognized her voice. Looking up toward the open balcony from his low position in the room, he spotted Hermione.
"I'm up here, on the balcony."
"I know, I see you." And if Harry had to admit it, the sight of her up on the balcony was breathtaking- like seeing his patronus or the ceiling of the Great Hall for the first time- her outline framed against a star-filled, moonless backdrop. Harry thought to himself that she looked quite like she was floating there, up in the night sky, surrounded by starlight.
Harry joined her on the balcony, and the two friends stood in an awed silence, taking in the beautiful scenery around them.
After some time like this, Hermione broke the silence. "Were you laughing about Norbert?"
Harry smiled and nodded.
"It seemed so rebellious back then. It was one of the first times in my life I'd ever broken the rules."
"Oh, if only you knew back then how many more rules you'd break," Harry chuckled teasingly.
Hermione laughed and said, "I don't think I would have made it to my second year if I knew that then."
"Well, you wouldn't have broken so many rules if it wasn't for me," Harry joked.
Hermione knew that even though Harry's tone of voice was joking, deep down, he truly meant what he said.
"You say that, Harry, like it's a bad thing, but it's not true. Why do you think I was sorted into Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw? Because I knew in my heart that some rules do more harm than good, and that sometimes you have to break the rules in order to protect the people you care about… or at least I grew to learn those things."
"And I thought you were sorted into Gryffindor to keep us all from flunking out," Harry teased.
Hermione tried her best to glare at him then, resisting her know-it-all urge to tell Harry that you can't just flunk out of Hogwarts, trying and failing to hide her smile.
Again, they were quiet for some time, listening to the sounds of the evening; the distant hoot of an owl, the menacing creaks of the wind and trees in the Forbidden Forest, a flutter of dark wings on the surface of the Great Lake.
Over all the weeks of "camping" they'd done, Harry had sometimes despised the silence that he and Hermione, and Ron as well, had shared, particularly when a certain Horcrux had made it unbearable. Somewhere along the way though, out of all the darkness, he'd found to not only enjoy their silence at times, but to appreciate the levels of comfort, contemplation, and what he deemed "living-in-the-moment-ness" he could experience.
"It's funny," Hermione began, her voice nearly a whisper, "after the War I told myself I would be happy to never see a tent again, but once the castle got too crowded and people set up tents on the grounds, I've been coming up here almost every night just to look at them all."
Harry nodded, sensing Hermione had more to say.
"The first night I came up here, I found Luna. She told me this was one of her favorite spots because it was a prime lookout for large-scale wackspurt migration patterns. I told her it was a lovely view, and she told me I could have it, thinking I needed it more than she did."
Harry chuckled, not surprised at Hermione's recounting of what Luna said. He felt a sudden surge of joy run through him as he realized that Luna would not be far away from the Burrow in the coming months. He felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.
"I didn't know what she meant then," Hermione continued, "but of course it was- beautiful, the view, watching lanterns and campfires flicker, and listening to the voices and laughter and music rise up through the night."
Harry wasn't sure he'd ever heard Hermione talk this way before, but he was glad for it.
"Even George and Angelina, always setting off one explosion or another… but the most beautiful thing of all was seeing that all these people were here to help... just knowing that one fact gave me hope, the way I think Luna knew it would."
Although Harry hadn't been with Hermione on those nights, he thought that must have been something to see, and wished that she had asked him to join her.
"None of it would have been possible without you, you know," Harry said sincerely.
Hermione smiled sheepishly, but made no response.
The thought that Ron and Hermione would be leaving for Australia and he for the Burrow the following morning both frightened and saddened Harry, but listening to Hermione's recollections of her nightly visits to the Astronomy Tower somehow calmed him and gave him a renewed sense of hope, even though he hadn't shared the experiences with her.
Voldemort's gone, Harry thought, as if he needed to be reminded, and if all those people gathered to help, there has to be good things to come.
Later that night, after Hermione and Harry joined Ron in the common room for a long chat filled with the silence of their thoughts of upcoming change, of course balanced with plenty of laughter, visions of stars and flickering lanterns filled Harry's mind as he drifted to sleep in his four-poster bed in his room in Gryffindor Tower, for perhaps the last time.
In the moment right before consciousness left him, Harry felt no fear in his heart for the first time in a very, very long time.