Forging Reality
by DitzyDizzyDessy101
Chapter 2
Oh, man! Oh, man! OH, MAN!!!
I have got my first review! You have no idea how ecstatic I am!
Thank you Sile Ni Dhionnlibin
You have completely made my day!
And, just for you, I decided to update again tonight!
XX All for a Lemon Drop XX
alternately titled
XXX The Convincing of Albus Dumbldore XXX
I feel, Harry remarked wryly to himself, as he hurt too much to actually say the words aloud, as though I've been attacked by a giant spider and its babies, fallen a hundred feet off my broom, spent hours and hours cramped in my cupboard, fought a troll, warded off a dementor, relived the tri-wizard tournament, been bitten by a basilisk, fought Voldemort—oh, and been hit by a killing curse—ALL AT THE SAME TIME!!!
Atfer all, he was experienced enough with this kind of stuff to know what if felt like.
He heard rustling beside him and mentally groaned. He couldn't possibly handle anything more. He heard a soft, grumbling moan and his irritation turned to delight—Ron! "Bloody hell! What happened?"
He tried to move, tried to respond, but couldn't so he gave up and opted to just lie thee and let Ron figure it out for himself.
"Harry! Harry! Wake up!" He didn't—couldn't—move and heard Ron move around some more.
"Hermione!" Ron whispered, and Harry's heart lept. Hermione was here too! "Hermione, are you awake?"
"Mmm-hmmmm," came a sound nearby.
"Well, come on, I'm kinda alone here."
"Yes," Hermione drawled sleepily, "I'd like a banana split... pickles would be lovely."
A snort, more rustling. "Ginny! Come on, wake up!" Ginny! She was here too! He perked his ears, waiting to hear who else was there, but Ron gave a heavy sigh and seemed to lay back down again. There was no more noise.
For the first time, he became aware that he was sprawled on his back on cold, hard dirt. Judging by the smell, he was in a forest, and the bird chirps and crisp cool air indicated that it was early morning. He tried to remember what had happened, but his mind drew a blank so he gave up. A moment later, though, his eyes fluttered open as the past events washed over him.
Judging by his limited view, he was most definitely in a forest, and soft sunlight spilled in through gaps in the branches. He ignored the stiffness in his neck and tilted his head slightly to the side. He saw Ron laying beside him, his clothes wrinkled and slightly torn—was that blood on his shoulder?— and his eyes staring emptily at the leafy canopy.
Harry still felt awful, but the soreness seemed to be receding somewhat. He jiggled his finger, twitched his hand, and then succeeded in lifting his arm...an inch of the ground. Well, at least it's progress, he thought dejectedly.
Deciding to let nature take its course, he let his thoughts drift and wondered where they were, what had happened, and why Voldemort and his followers weren't there. Could the enemy have retreated? It seemed unlikely, but where else could they be? It was much too quiet for them to be hanging around...
He had the gut feeling that he, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were safe for the time being, and he noted that sleep had never seemed more welcome.
Harry woke up hours later to the smell of cooking bacon. Eyes blinking open in confusion, he saw, once again, the leafy canopy stretched above him. Bright sunlight streamed down from between the leaves, and the air was alive with the sounds of the forest and the joyful crackling of the bacon.
Relieved to feel that, although he was still sore, he was no longer immobile, he slowly dragged himself up into a sitting position and looked around him. Not far off, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were talking animatedly around a small fire, with a small fry pan filled with sizzling bacon hovering above it.
Harry watched for several minutes with a small smile.
He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was good to know that they were safe and happy. He saw Ginny's hands gesturing wildly—how he loved it when she did that— and Ron's face screw into a mock-offended pout. Hermione rolled her eyes and pecked Ron on the cheek. They hadn't had many moments like these—times when they could really enjoy one another's company. He supposed that the promise of bacon and a full stomach helped encourage the good mood, but the main factor was probably the knowledge that all the horcruxes had been destroyed and the road to the end was much simpler.
He resolved to himself that he would make sure that they had more times like this.
Ginny's story must have ended because her hands dropped and she was laughing, then she glanced his way and broke into a large grin. "Come on, sleepyhead! Join the party!"
The other two looked his way and beckoned, grinning widely, so he grinned back and pulled himself to his feet.
"Morning! You seem to be having fun."
"We've got bacon, too," Ron said proudly.
"So I noticed. Where'd we get it?"
"Hermione." He turned to her and raised his eyebrows. She answered with a sly, hesitant grin.
"Well, I was tired of never having any decent food, so while we were meeting with everyone in the Room of Requirement, I sort of... found their stores and snatched some."
Harry shook his head in wonder and reached for some bacon. "So what were you talking about?"
Ginny smirked at Ron and started, "Do you remember when we went to Egypt? I don't know if you heard, but Fred and George tried to shove Percy in a pyramid, but couldn't because this bufoon here—" she jerked her thumb at Ron and continued, "couldn't keep his..."
It had been, Harry remarked to himself an hour or so later, one of the most pleasant mornings he'd enjoyed in a long time. He found that for a while he could see past his destiny, his struggle to stay alive, his painful past, even Voldemort, in favor of his remebering his fond memories and how lucky he was to be alive and among friends.
After some time, however, the recent events caught up with them, as was inevitable. They bantered back and forth, throwing out theories as to where they were, what the curse had done, and why Voldemort and the Death Eaters had disappeared.
"Maybe he thought that you were using some type of magic he'd never heard of before," Ron suggested, "I mean, he didn't exactly stick around after you defeated him as a baby, did he? He might've called a retreat or something."
Ginny frowned, sounding doubtful, "But that doesn't give us any clue to what caused the weird connection-thing in the first place. The two have to be linked somehow, because Harry—no offense—"she added hastily, "couldn't have pulled off some unknown, highly advanced piece of magic with just a disarming spell."
Harry nodded. "Ginny's right. Besides, when our wands connected after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he shouted for his Death Eaters to leave me to him, not to interfere."
"What if that spell," Ginny said slowly, "sent us into some mass-halucination or something? So we're inside our minds and Voldemort's inside his?"
"Why, though?"
Ginny shrugged, "Maybe there was too much magic and it had to go somewhere."
Ron jumped in. "It could have something to do with that personality switch Harry said he kept having between him and Voldemort. He got trapped inside his mind, and because we got caught by the light too, we were brought in."
"Wouldn't I know what happens inside my own head?"
"Not necessarily. I mean, look at..." Hermione gave a start and dropped off suddenly, pressing a finger to her lips and shaking her head. They all listened closely, and after a moment Harry heard it, too.
The unmistakable signs of someone crashing through the nearby underbrush filled the air—and it was obvious that they weren't doing anything to try to hide it. He could hear shouting and whooping, accompanied by thundering foodsteps, a dog bark, and cracking branches. Musing silently to himself, Harry thought that it sounded rather like a game of tag or cops-and-robbers or something similar. He herded the others under the invisibility cloak, and they backed into the shadows to watch.
It wasn't long before he caught a glimpse of whoever it was, but it didn't help much. All he saw was the flowing edge of a robe, and then, a little farther off, the hindquarters of some tall, magestic, four-legged animal. It wasn't until they were just a little ways off (which admittedly didn't take long) that he caught a full picture: a shaggy black dog, a worn but happy teenager with sandy hair, and a stag that, upon closer inspection, had a rat perched on its head. Hardly a second later they were barreling off again, chasing after one another.
Harry felt dizzy and craned his neck for another view. He wasn't disappointed. The dog burst out of nearby undergrowth and shot past them, followed by the stag who paused a just few meters away and turned its head to wait for the boy to catch up. After a moment he did, but despite his wide grin he was panting heavily and clutching his side. The stag bent down and jerked its head, so the boy climbed on his back and they were off again.
Long after the noise had died down, everyone remained silent and wrapped up in their own thoughts until, at last, Ron demanded shakily, "What the bloody hell was that?"
Harry and Ginny both just shook their heads in mutual bewilderment, but Hermione didn't move, her brow furrowed in concentration. "There are three possibilities," she said finally in a shaky voice. "The first being that we actually are in Harry's head, and this is some sort of trick that spell is playing on us, drawing on our memories.
"The second option is that the spell really did send us to the past, and that really was Harry's dad, Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew. Either way, we're going to have a hard time getting back."
She was silent for a time, and Ginny prodded her out of it. "And the other option?"
"I'm dreaming," Hermione said flatly. "I overindulged the night before Bill and Fleur's wedding, and that combined with anxiety over our departure has led to a wild and crazy dream where Ron left us then came back; there's an unbeatable wand, a stone to bring back the dead, and Harry's invisibility cloak is actually a one of a kind object out of a fairy tale; Remus and Tonks got married, had a son and died; I destroyed a Horcrux; Harry faced Voldemort again; and we–I and dream Ron, Ginny, and Harry–showed up in the forest and saw a bunch of dead people that were actually alive and much younger than they had any right to be."
The others glanced at each other and grinned. It felt good to ignore, for a moment, the harsh reality of her words.
"Whichever it is," Harry said after a moment as the truth settled in, "we can't just wait here until nightfall." He saw Ginny shiver slightly and wondered briefly what had happened during her detention for trying to steal the sword and if it was this that had such an effect. As protective emotions erupted, he forced the thought from his mind. "I say that we should go find the castle. We might get some answers there, and whether we're in the past, my head, or someone's dream, they're bound to be there."
Ron, he saw, looked relieved at this, but he was the only one. Harry himself was quite nervous about what they would find there, and if he were to judge by her pale, taut features, so was Ginny. With another jolt he wondered just what had happened to her there. To keep himself focused he glanced at Hermione, and saw to his astonishment that she looked neither reassured nor edgy. Instead she wore an expression that was quite familiar but he hadn't seen in ages–one that she usually had when she was trying to figure out a particularly difficult problem that made no sense to anyone but her. An image of her scouting out how to get to the bottom of the Rita Skeeter mystery swam before his eyes.
He knew better than to ask what was on her mind, and waited patiently until she'd reached a conclusion. Before long, she spoke up. "I wouldn't feel right not knowing where I was," she said tentatively, her voice small and her eyes focused on something far away. "Living a lie, or a dream, or having to watch what I say and do for fear of changing the future–I need to know what to expect."
"But Hermione, how can we know–"
"I've already worked that out." Three heads snapped towards her. Hermione continued, her voice growing stronger, "In a dream, you can control what happens with your thoughts, and the same principle should apply if we're in Harry's head. So, naturally, it follows that if we focus on changing something and it does, we're in someone's subconsciousness, but if it doesn't, then we're in the past."
"Unless we're someplace we haven't yet thought of," Ginny added.
"Yes, there's that possibility," Hermione amended. "But I'm willing to bet that it's one of these three. You guys up for it?"
Once they'd all given their accent, Harry wondered idly what to change. He smirked slightly and imagined Neville's Snape-in-dress boggart appearing randomly. He waited for a moment, but nothing happened. He then decided that, before dismissing the idea, he should try something simpler, and pictured the leaves on the trees turning red and gold. Again, nothing happened.
He glanced at the others, all of whom responded with a shake of the head. He couldn't help it. He grinned.
If–if–they really were in the past, he would finally have a chance to see his parents... Sirius... Dumbledore... With a painful lurch, he saw Remus and Tonks and Fred... all dead. This was back before all that, back when all was good and Voldemort had just barely reached his peak of power.
The foresight of the impending attacks weighed heavily on his mind, but if he could lose himself for a moment when all was well and all were living, he might find the strength to carry on.
"To the castle, then?" Ron broke in quietly, and he nodded, glad to be pulled from his bittersweet thoughts.
Hermione started and pulled out her wand. Alarmed, they mirrored her, fearing for an attack, but her attention was focused on them, not elsewhere. With a wave of her wand, Harry felt a strange sensation along his arms and torso, and when he looked, he saw that his robes were repairing themselves along all the tears and that something similar was happening to the others as well. She then administered Dittany to their wounds. Harry was once again amazed at her foresight, and told her as much.
They trudged out of the forest. For a time they tried to make conversation, but it was all forced and they soon gave up. When he got his first view of the castle–looking just as he remembered it and quite unscarred by the battle–as the trees thinned out, he felt a tugging somewhere near his heart.
He was home.
Except not. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. This was the place of so many of his happy memories, but it was as if they had never happened. His past had been erased, eliminated, wiped out from all existence.
"We've got a blank slate–nothing good and nothing bad," Ginny murmured poetically. Harry craned to look at her and saw that she was just as wrapped up in her thoughts as he had been in his.
Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed before they reached the gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore's office. They tried guessing passwords, but had only named a few sweets when the statues burst into life and split apart. For a moment they believed they had guessed the right candy, but then they saw that the steps were movingdown, not up.
"Acid pops, did you say? Personally I prefer Treacle Tarts," said a familiar, amused voice. Four jaws dropped as the old man with the deep blue robes, long white beard, twinkling eyes, crooked nose, and half-moon spectacles descended to the lower level. Harry had to fight an affectionate grin that was slowly spreading across his face as he thought of the familiar old man before him, his hopes and fears, dreams and nightmares.
His mind raced. Dumbledore! If anyone could solve this puzzle, he could. Tell them where they were and how to get back. Pull all the strings and make them feel safe.
His euphoria drained quite suddenly as he thought of what it would be asking of Dumbledore. Please, sir, could you help us? We know you're in the middle of a war, but we need you to protect four time travelers and spend your time finding out how and why they're here even though that's magic that no one has even seen before, let alone attempted to understand. And me? I've finally got my family back, sorry you haven't got yours.
No, he couldn't do that to his former mentor. He scrambled for an appropriate excuse and grasped one. "Professor Dumbledore? We–er–would like to transfer to Hogwarts." He inwardly winced at the bluntness of his statement, but was careful to keep his face steady.
Blank shock flitted across the old headmaster's face, but a split second later he had neatly masked it behind a benign, gracious smile. "Then please do step into my office. I was on my way down to supper, but I dare say that can wait."
Harry smiled appreciatively, and they all began heading up the steps. He spared a glance at his friends and saw Hermione raise her eyebrows in a way that suggested he had better know what he was doing. He smiled weakly at her and she narrowed her eyes, so he averted his gaze. Ron gave him a noncommittal shrug and Ginny didn't notice his look, as she was so preoccupied with her own thoughts, but she looked to be faring much better than before.
"Now then," Dumbledore said once he had sat behind his desk and they had settled into conjured chairs in his office, "I think it would be best if I know your names."
As he waited expectantly, Harry was faced with a choice. Dare he give their real names?
"This is Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and his sister Ginny Weasley, and I'm Harry Potter."
Dumbledore frowned and leaned forward, intrigued. "I wasn't aware that the Potters had any other relatives."
Heart pounding, Harry frowned, "Potters... you mean..." He swallowed and said in a low voice, "I wasn't aware that any of my relatives were still living, but I've never seen a family tree so I really wouldn't know." It wasn't a hard act to pull off–all he had to do was think of his parents and his pain became genuine.
"Still living? You mean..." Dumbledore's voice was heavy with sorrow and compassion. Harry studied his hands, unwilling to face the pity that he knew would come.
"They died when I was a baby. The Weasley's as good as adopted me."
"My dear boy," the old man spoke softly, consolingly, but Harry wanted none of it. "It is never easy to lose one you love, even harder to carry on without them, but still we live out our lives and find fullness in our friends."
Unable to stand his condolences, Harry pierced him with a steady gaze. "I learned eventually just how powerful the love we shared and the memories we formed are. I've mourned, of course, but I'm proud that they're my parents and I wouldn't trade their memory for anything."
Dumbledore had held his gaze, but presently wavered as his eyes began to grow moist. Harry looked down, but when Dumbledore spoke again it was in a kind, steady voice. "That is quite remarkable, but alas, we must get on to business. You say you'd like to transfer to Hogwarts, even though term started two weeks ago. Might I ask why?"
As thoughts of his parents flooded through him, Harry found his mind suddenly going blank even as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all turned towards him. He tried to yank himself back and give a satisfactory answer, but failed miserably. "Well, er... you see, we come from this, erm, small town and... er–"
"What Harry means to say," interrupted Hermione in an annoyed voice, "is that we used to live and learn magic in a small town that was recently attacked by Death Eaters. Naturally, we couldn't bear to simply abandon our magical education, so when we–or I, rather–found out about Hogwarts, we decided it would be the best place for us. After all, it's very well protected and examination results are the highest of any school."
Mind fogged but clearing, Harry added, "And besides, it'll be great to go somewhere with lots of other kids. It was kind of lonely, it being just the four of us learning together."
Dumbledore nodded. "What town?"
"Worcester," Hermione answered without a moments hesitation. "It's mostly muggle– I think Ron and Ginny's parents were the only magical ones there."
Dumbledore nodded again, "And you say it was attacked. What happened? How did you escape?"
Forcing down his revulsion to lying to his mentor, Harry wondered how best to pull this off. His voice was hesitant and uncertain when he replied, deliberately unfocusing his eyes and looking out the window, "We were in the middle of a Charms lesson when there was this loud bang, like an explosion or something. We didn't think much of it at first, because Ron and Ginny's older brothers had stopped in for a visit and they really like making things explode. Then we heard screams, though, and saw fire out the window.
We ran outside to find out what was going on. It was awful..." He broke off for effect, planning on continuing after a little prodding, but Ron then picked up the narrative.
"There were men in hooded black cloaks and they were crazy–horrifyingly, disgustingly crazy. They were dangling a lot of muggles in the air and casting varying curses on them just to see how they'd react, you know, for sport. There were harmless things like jelly-legs and tarantallegra, but nine times out of ten they used darker curses, particularly the unforgiveables. My mum and dad were calling for us to go back in, but I just couldn't move. And then one of them, he... he..." Ron took a deep breath, "He heard them screaming for us and sent a curse. The whole house just..."
He dropped off and Ginny finished quietly, "exploded."
There was a lengthy, heavy pause. Then Harry said, "I don't know what happened next; it was all so confusing. I didn't think it could have happened–that was like my home, they were like my parents–but at the same time, I knew I had to get away. Hermione helped me drag Ron and Ginny to safety because they kept trying to make a break towards the house. We ran into the woods and Hermione apparated us away. We've been trying to figure out where to go ever since."
They were silent for some time, each pretending to be lost in thought. Harry hoped Dumbledore would break the silence, but it dragged on and on so he finally said, "So what do you say, professor? Can we transfer?"
Dumbledore inclined his head and smiled, "I don't see why not; we'd be delighted to have you with us. Unfortunately, though, we do have to go over some rather dull topics-one of the main downfalls of switching schools." Harry almost smiled; this was more like the Dumbledore he knew. "The first topic being OWL results, your grades from previous years, your strengths and weaknesses, and so on."
"Erm," said Ginny, "we never took our OWLs, sir. Our parents had trouble clearing it with the ministry and eventually just gave up. And I don't think my parents used the same grading criteria as in the proper schools."
Harry knew from the way Dumbledore's expression froze for a moment that they had messed up their story, but he wasn't sure how. If he didn't know better, he would have assumed he'd imagined it because a second later his face was as genuine as ever. "That is unfortunate indeed." He paused. "Nevertheless, am I correct in presuming that you can tell me your best subjects."
"Of course, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Especially Harry, he's the best." Harry managed a modest smile, though he felt more like glaring at her. Ginny continued, "Hermione, though, she's a right genius at just about everything." Hermione blushed a magnificent shade of red.
"Excellent," Dumbledore thought for a moment and surveyed them over his half moon spectacles. "As dull and dreary as test taking may be, however, I think I'll have to give you a small test, just to make sure you won't be too far behind the others."
If he was expecting them to groan, he was quite disappointed. Harry let out a sigh of relief that all had gone so well, so far. Ginny's cheeks had started to regain their color, and it was obvious that she was looking forward to something–anything–that would remind her of what life used to be like–even taking a test. Hermione looked quite pleased (albeit nervous) and began reciting under her breath things she thought she might need to know. Ron nudged her and asked, "Think I'll need to know that food's one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?" to a general round of chuckles.
A short time later, Harry handed his stack of parchment to Dumbledore, feeling quite anxious. He had forgotten how much memorization was involved in his classes and hoped he hadn't done too poorly. Hermione had already turned hers in, and he saw that Ginny was on the last page. He glanced at Ron and, judging by his bewildered expression, he couldn't remember much, either.
Hermione was presently performing a series of spells for Dumbledore, who seemed quite impressed. Harry knew that it would soon be his turn, and he watched carefully in case Dumbledore asked him to do similar spells.
When Dumbledore thanked Hermione and told her to sit down, he stood up and pulled out his wand. Dumbledore nodded at him and said, "Well then Mr. Potter, if you would just step over here and, let me think, procure a lemon drop for me."
A lemon drop! Some things never change. Alright, he thought, let's toy with his head a bit. He nodded and pointed his wand at the desk and said "Accio Lemon Drop!"
He expected the little muggle sweet to fly out of the dish and into his hand, but nothing happened. He glanced at Dumbledore, who's eyebrows had shot up and who's blue eyes were twinkling merrily as though enjoying a good joke. "Anti-Accio Charm, I suppose?"
He wondered if he should summon one from somewhere else, but decided against it. He crossed the room and moved to pick one up. Not unexpectedly, his hand met with a barrier that prevented him from touching any of the candies; nor could he touch the bowl beneath it.
He raised his wand once more and, wondering if it would work on an inanimate object, thought levircorpus! The little dish must not have been equipped to resist such an unorthodox spell, because it was hoisted into the air and flipped over, spilling the candies all over the desk. Harry returned all but one into the dish and handed the last one to the aged wizard.
"Here you are, sir," he said.
"Fascinating thought process," Dumbledore said, his eyes still twinkling. "I can't say anyone else has managed to do so quite as splendidly. Although I have had several call for a house elf.
"Now then, would you please make the candy tap dance across my desk?"
Harry did so and, upon prompting, also expanded it to the length of his forearm and turned it green. After setting it right, Dumbledore held it out in his hand and said, "Can I offer you a lemon drop?"
"Er, no thanks."
Dumbledore smiled and popped it in his own mouth. "On to business, then. Would you be so kind as to demonstrate the proper charm to repel a boggart?"
On the whole, it had gone reasonably well, Harry thought as he watched Ron vanish a kitten. In Defense, at least, he was sure he had passed, and was pretty confident about Charms, too. Following Ron's overzealous wand-movements with his eyes, he wondered idly what he'd find in the past. His heart beat faster as he thought of his parents. What would they think of him? Where they together yet? Was his dad still a big-headed idiot?
Ron had just finished and returned to his seat. Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and read over their tests while the teenagers fidgeted uncomfortably. After a few tense minutes he looked up, surveying them from behind his half-moon spectacles. "Alas, I daresay that all four of you are most definitely capable." Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sighed, looking relieved, but Harry didn't respond. He knew from the headmaster's voice that there was more to come. "Regardless, there is the more pressing matter of your loyalty."
The effect was instantaneous. Ginny huffed, looking quite affronted; Hermione drew her breath in quickly and stole half a glance at Harry; and Ron opened his mouth angrily. Harry, however, ignored the sting of the accusation and leveled Dumbledore with a long, steady look. "What are you saying, professor?"
"Nothing overly alarming," the old man said hastily, "And I'm certainly not accusing you. Nevertheless, it would be trusting to the point of foolishness to allow four perfect strangers into the school without at least questioning their story beforehand."
He waited, but when Harry didn't say anything, he continued, "For instance, you say that your parents," he nodded at Ron and Ginny, "and your adopted parents," he directed at Harry, "and your friends' parents and your teachers," this was aimed at Hermione, "were killed. And yet, you don't seem at all bothered when mentioning them. You don't get teary-eyed, or preoccupied, or even choke on a word. I'd expect some sort of reaction, however small it is or how emotionally strong you are. I do hope you'll forgive me for saying it, but it doesn't seem as though you're saddened by their death at all."
Harry was struck by his blunt, hurtful way of bringing it up. Surely he realized that if he was mistaken he would be causing irreparable damage? There was an element of harshness masked in the words as well, unnoticeable to anyone who didn't know him well. Harry was taken aback and didn't know what to make of it, until he saw Dumbledore's eyes drift to the window with a tear beginning to form.
An image of himself yelling at Remus in Grimmauld Place flashed before him and he understood.
It was pain. Dumbledore's world had been shattered the day his sister died, and it was clear that the thought of anyone turning their back (in one way or another) on people who cared for them awoke a rush of difficult memories. The insensitivity was just a defense mechanism.
He weighed his words carefully, looking directly into the headmaster's face, but before he could speak, Ginny broke the silence with racking sobs, her shoulders shaking madly and face streaming with tears, "Sir, they wouldn't have wanted to be remembered that way! They w-were always so–so full of life and love and–and happiness! Th-they wanted to be held in our hearts, but not–not mourned! When we're happy, we are fulfilling whatever happiness they may have missed, by living our life to the fullest we are declaring that as much as we miss them, we're still living for them!"
Harry was again reminded just how difficult this must be for his friends. None of them knew if they would ever go home again, if they would ever see their families again. Ron and Hermione had known this for quite some time, of course, but it was hitting Ginny for the first time–and hard.
He moved to her side and placed his arm comfortingly around her. She leaned into his embrace and sobbed harder than ever. As he rubbed her back consolingly, he addressed the headmaster in a low voice.
"She's right, sir. They were incredible people, and the world is blessed to have had them. They lived their life, and are now continuing to live through us. It's been hard, obviously, but we can't mourn forever. They'd have been happy and proud that we are here now." As he said it, he felt it's weight. He knew that his parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, and Fred would be happy and proud at how far they'd come.
Ginny's sobs reduced, and he glanced at Ron and Hermione to see how they were faring. They were both hugging, tears streaming down their cheeks, but they were smiling.
Dumbledore looked astounded for a moment, then his face flashed with something akin to a deep, heartfelt peace, before settling on bashfulness. "I apologize," he said ruefully, "That was way out of line. And I apologize for awakening difficult memories as well. I know how difficult such losses can be," he added kindly. "You should also know that your attitude is beyond admirable, and I would be proud to accept you into Hogwarts."
Harry felt his body relax significantly, and realized only then that he had been holding is breath. Still hugging Ginny, he said, "Thank you, sir."
"You are very welcome, Mr. Potter. I believe that the only business we have left to clear up is what classes you would like to take, and then we can all head to what I'm sure is a delicious supper and get you sorted."
"Excellent, sir."