Rebuilding
Chapter One: Memories.
When we returned to help with rebuilding the castle, we hadn't been able to apparate into the Hogwarts grounds themselves, as the wards had been put up again. So we found ourselves entering through the achingly familiar gates with the winged boars, and crossing the vast expanses of lawn in the approach to the castle. I had a firm grip on Harry's hand, but wasn't sure whether I was offering him comfort or seeking some from him. It was already obvious that this was going to be a very difficult time.
Ahead of us was a half-completed marble obelisk. In the sunlight streaming onto it, the lettering glittered. On one side was a paragraph which we could read as we got closer. Someone, probably Professor McGonagall, had put a lot of care into the wording. I choked a little as Hermione read it aloud.
On May 2, 1998, against superior forces, the defenders of Hogwarts fought bravely, and many gave their lives in the desperate battle to defeat the dark wizard known as Voldemort. Led by Harry Potter, the defenders were ultimately successful, but at great price. The names of all those who fell at this school in the lead up to the defeat of Voldemort are engraved on this stone to remind everyone of the sacrifices made by students and associates of Hogwarts to eliminate evil. We will never forget.
The first name on the second side was Cedric Diggory. I reached out to it, remembering the more innocent time before his death, back to the time when I was still worried about boys and schoolwork. I wished with all my heart that we could all return to those days, but I still understood that this tribute was necessary. All future students at this school would see and remember it every time they entered the gates. I cast my eye up towards the castle and realised the site would be easily visible from this side of the castle as well. There had been considerable thought put into the placement of the memorial. No-one would be able to ignore what had happened here.
While we had been standing there, communing with the past, Professor Flitwick had come down to meet us. He looked up at the unfinished top of the monument and said cheerfully, "We won't be finishing that off until the memorials have been held. It will be the finale of the services."
Dad nodded thoughtfully, and we all began the long walk up to the castle itself. As we walked, Flitwick outlined what had been done already to resurrect the castle. Even though it had been a month, no-one had been ready to rebuild until now. The grounds and the devastated castle had been something of a pilgrimage point for the thousands of wizarding families who wanted to see where it had ended. Now, however, the school needed to be repaired so that we could return this next year.
There were still sightseers, though. I could see scattered groups of them across the lawns, many of them starting to pay attention to us. I guessed our vivid Weasley hair was calling attention to us, and that most people were correctly guessing that Harry was with us. Professor Flitwick seemed to have come to the same conclusion because he quickened his steps as he led us towards the Entrance Hall. It seemed that curious wizards were being denied entry; only those who were here to help with the effort, and those who had lost loved ones that terrible day, were admitted to the castle itself.
Harry was clearly uncomfortable with the attention he was getting. We could hear snatches of the conversations as we entered the castle, and they were all along the lines of, 'Harry Potter ... that was him ... that's Potter.' The month we had spent at home, alone and grieving as a family, was about to give way to intense attention from the media and well wishers. I could see the tension in his face as he began to acknowledge that his role as 'the Chosen One' was not yet over.
We were ushered into the Great Hall, which was still the rubble-strewn, chaotic place it had been on the morning after the battle. People were still sitting haphazardly around the tables, and the teachers and Ministry people who were there to oversee the rebuilding were all at the top table. I shuddered, thinking back to the day of the battle and all that I had seen in this room, but I reminded myself that I needed to get used to this place again. This was going to be my home for the next year, and I had to feel comfortable here. I wished devoutly that the clean up would help me feel a sense of kinship here once more.
Harry squeezed my hand, and I drew comfort from being here with him. His face was still tense, and I could see him looking around in apprehension, wondering which of these people were going to harass him and try to bask in the 'Chosen One's' aura. However, we were instead gently welcomed by people who had been with us that day, and who didn't want or need to know the gory details. They just wanted to be together. It was an amazing sense of camaraderie.
I saw Luna across the Hall with her father, and had a sudden desire to see her. Even though we lived so close together, I hadn't seen her since the day of the battle. I was hit by the realisation that we had really insulated ourselves away for that month. Coming together again with this group of people who shared our grief and knew what it was like, was brilliant. I felt like our small family had expanded out, and I was now part of something bigger than myself. If I could have had the choice, of course I would prefer not to have gone through it. But it was oddly comforting to know that everyone here had been through the same thing and everyone here would be able to understand any grief that lingered while we resurrected the school.
I sat down next to Luna and her father. They were discussing the creatures that had infested the school during the battle, and how to get rid of them all. It was so familiar and Luna-like that I felt an immediate sense of peace just from being there. I stayed with them until I was called away by Dad to work out what my jobs would be in the coming days.
The next few days passed in something of a blur. We were simultaneously getting plans together to rebuild the school, and preparing for the memorial day for all of the fallen defenders. Everyone had already held personal funerals for each victim, but the world wanted to do something together, to mourn our losses and celebrate our victory together. So, almost exactly a month to the day after the battle, we all trooped down to the space around the obelisk. We had set up an astonishing number of seats for everyone who had expressed a desire to be at the service.
Harry was staring, his eyes fixed and haunted-looking, at the memorial itself. He clearly didn't want to catch anyone's eye, and we clung to each other's hands as we walked. However, when we got down to the spot, he was called away. Harry, as the person who had defeated Voldemort himself, was front and centre as the symbol for everything. He hated it, I could see it in his eyes, but he was carrying through with reasonable grace. I, however, felt bereft without him. Despite Mum's pretty successful attempts to keep us from being alone, we hadn't been apart much, except to sleep, since the day of the battle. I was still shaky and withdrawn from the loss of Fred, which still hit me at odd unexpected times, and the idea of going through this without Harry was terrifying.
There was no help for it, though. He was shepherded up to the platform that had been built, and I shuffled off to sit with Mum and Dad and the rest of my family. As family of one of those being remembered, we had been assigned seats near the front of the group, and were more visible than I would have liked. Mum, even though she can be a bit silly over ... well, silly things, was wonderful that day. She knew, she could tell, how I was feeling without Harry and without a word, she held me close and let me hide my tears in her chest whenever I wanted to.
All through the service, I could see him sitting there on the platform, white-lipped and tense, staring down at me with a hard expression in his eyes. He was still playing the blame game, I knew. He had this feeling that he was somehow to blame for all the deaths, that if he had only gone to Voldemort sooner, most of these people would not be mourned today. It was arrant nonsense, of course, and I hoped he would not call attention to those feelings. I let out a sigh of relief when he did his speech. He kept his bitter feelings about himself out of it, and just focussed on what had happened.
"Like everyone else has said, we're here today to remember the sacrifices of all those who died defending this castle. I wish ... I wish their sacrifices hadn't been necessary, but it was them who gave us the peace we all experience today. Every person who fought in the battle, in the several battles, for this castle, was instrumental in helping to defeat Voldemort."
The collective shudders that still ran through the crowd made him grin. It was a little twisted, a little smug, but it was one of the first genuine smiles I'd seen from him since he faced Voldemort in that final duel.
'He can't hurt us anymore, and his name has no more power, because of these people. Please, let us all take a moment to reflect on them while the Minister reads the names of all those who are gone.'
I saw him take a deep breath as he said it, and his eyes returned to mine. Strangely enough, he looked more at ease now. He hated being in the public eye, but I think that having been accepted, having had no-one attack him for being up there had drawn some of the tension out of him. He may have been blaming himself, but it was obvious that no-one else was, and while he looked a little baffled by all the love pouring over him, he was at least able to relax a little now.
As the last name on the memorial was read out, those on the platform came down and surrounded the obelisk, all raising their wands ready to complete the monument. Around me in the audience, I noticed many people raising their own wands to help. Soon, the jagged edges had disappeared and the obelisk looked as if it had been standing there for many years.
After a moment's silence, the crowd began to disperse and Harry came over to join us. He took my hand and we stayed there looking at the tributes that had been placed around the base of the monument. It was painful to read all the testimonies to Fred that were scattered among the others, but it was also fun in a weird way. So many of them were filled with laughter and reminiscences of his pranks and jokes that it was hard not to laugh. I glanced sideways at George. He had a small smile on his face as he read through them. Interestingly, Angelina Johnson, who had always been close to Fred, was right by George's side. I guessed it was nice that they could comfort each other, but I hoped neither was going to get hurt by the strong ties the other one had to the dead.
Our peace was once again shattered by the media; they became emboldened as most of the crowd slipped away. When I looked up, I found that we were surrounded by reporters and their equipment. Without acknowledging their presence, Harry tugged on my hand and we began to move away and off towards the apparition point outside the castle gates.
"Mr Potter, what will you do now that You-Know-Who is gone?" Harry's mouth twisted in condescension as the reporter couldn't bring himself to say Voldemort's name, even now.
"Harry! How does it feel to be the Chosen One and have nothing to do now?"
"Miss ... hey Miss! Are you dating Harry Potter? Is it his fame that you're after?"
The pressure from Harry's hand increased in mine, and he took larger strides as we made our way through the gates. I stole a glance up at him, and his eyes were burning with anger, but he refused to say anything. Taking my lead from him, even though I was desperate to hurl abuse at the bastards for even suggesting such a thing, I kept my silence until we reached the safety of the apparition point. One thing in all of this was very clear. Harry was as much the centre of attention he had always been, and now I was right there with him. It was a poor ending to a hard day, and the small peace we had attained was shattered as we apparated back to the Burrow.