Chapter 14

Starting now, I'll be strong

(Rachel Platten, Fight song)

Harry refused to believe that Head Auror Dawlish, for all his blind obedience to the previous Ministers, could have deliberately faked reports. The man's loyalty was to the public service, not to one political cause or another. This was the reason he had been promoted after the war when Shacklebolt desperately struggled to find untainted civil servants senior enough to take over what was left of the Ministry.

Still, either Dawlish was in league with Snape's foes or someone had tampered with his seal and his files. In either case, it had to be an inside job.

Harry set Seamus watching Dawlish discreetly, with instructions to note every contact he had for an extended period of time. So far, he had nothing suspect to report.

"There has to be a common factor between all the alleged victims," insisted Harry. In the interests of discretion, they had agreed to meet at Harry's home, as old school mates would after hours.

Neville shrugged. "As far as I know, the only real link is their being Muggleborn, but we already know that."

"Ron, any recurring pattern in their background?"

"Well, they're listed as Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, except Alison Hatter, of course. Even those who never set foot at Hogwarts."

Harry racked his brain, totally frustrated, "Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Why only the two houses? The missing link has to be at Hogwarts."

"Not for those who were never sorted," interjected Neville.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Nope, but I'll ask Luna. There's a Hogsmeade weekend in a fortnight."

Harry sighed, unwilling to offend Neville. He did not think Luna's comments would be very useful. He turned to Ron, "What does Hermione think?"

Ron rolled his eyes and answered dourly, "She only said she wants to discuss this with Draco." After a pause, he added, "I asked Dad's opinion and even Percy's but they're like me, they can't find a single connection."

"Let me know as soon as you hear from her then."

As soon as Neville left, Ron whined, "Why does it always have to be Malfoy? The way she's seeking the ferret's opinion about everything, you'd think the sun shines out of his backside."

"Believe me, I know exactly how you feel," said Harry, sullen. "Kingsley's practically ordered me to be friendly with the Malfoys. He says that with Snape out of the picture, they're our best hope for the inside knowledge." It was his turn to whine, "What did I do to deserve that?"

Ron chuckled. "You killed Voldemort."

"Shut up!" retorted Harry, "You helped me."

Ron sighed melodramatically, "And this is probably why I'm being saddled with Draco Malfoy as the new best friend of my girlfriend. It's all your fault!"

"Fate hates us."

"Sure."

§§§

When Harry gave his next report to Shacklebolt, the Minister shook his head at him as if it were obvious why the reported victims were all listed as Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Harry was quite vexed when the only comment he got was, "Unless I'm mistaken, it's not that important for the inquiry."

The Minister recommended that they should track down the students who had not returned to Hogwarts in September 1997, either because they were threatened as Muggleborn or because they elected to go to Beauxbatons to finish their studies.

He was right. Soon, Neville brought interesting news. The same firm of solicitors approached the parents of Muggleborn students and offered to act on their behalf, through a so-called 'Association of Muggle Victims of The Death Eaters' to help them claim war damages. They did not approach any student sorted into Gryffindor or any member of Dumbledore's Army, which explained why they had never heard about it. This also proved that the whole thing had been carefully planned by someone who had access to the Hogwarts or Ministry files.

"All they needed to do was file a formal complaint against Hogwarts and Snape as Headmaster for mistreatment or discrimination. The Association said they would take care of everything for a fee."

"Are you telling me that the victims actually paid to pursue Snape in the hope of getting what would be awarded to them in any case?" asked Harry, scandalised.

"That's the gist."

"Someone's clearly found a way to fish in troubled waters," Harry commented, clearly disgusted.

"At least, we know their official cover now. It's a clever way to finance their actions," said Ron.

"Not as clever as you'd think," said Neville.

"Oh?"

"None of the families I met actually signed the contract."

"Ah!" Harry brightened, "They still had the sense to file for damages themselves."

"No, they didn't," said Neville gloomily. "They simply do not want anything to do with wizarding Britain anymore."

They exchanged stricken looks. The Ministry wasn't exaggerating the loss of population: as heavy as the casualties had been, the number of voluntary exiles was at least double that and it didn't look like many planned to return any time soon... If ever.

As silly as they sounded, the regular debates in the Wizengamot about the need for a marriage and breeding act to ensure enough magical births in the next generation made sense now.

Neville usually lent only a bored ear to his grandmother's recounting of the sessions but he realised how lucky they were to have a democrat like Shacklebolt for Minister.

"I can't imagine being forced to get married straight out of Hogwarts," said Harry. "I know I want to marry Ginny, but not for a few years yet!"

"I wouldn't mind marrying now," said Neville, "but I can't say I'm ready to be a father any time soon."

"Same here," said Ron, groaning at the horrific prospect. Their youth had been spoiled by the war, and the Wizengamot's greybeards would force them to give up their chance to enjoy life before settling down? No way.

Ron sighed, "Percy has been commissioned to draw a huge fiscal reform. He asked Dad to help him investigate Muggle family benefits and fiscal incentives in various countries. At least, they agree that incentives are better than coercion."

Harry grumbled, "I'm not sure how I'd react in your father's place to be ordered by my own son. Arthur's really a nice man... and a nice father."

Ron made a wry smile, "I can't believe I am even saying this, but Percy's not so much of a prat these days. And he's proving himself a great Senior Undersecretary." He winked."At least, that's Mum's opinion."

Neville added, "I heard from Gran that they're going to encourage immigration and offer tax exemptions for foreign investors. Entrepreneurs willing to settle and returning expats can also count on low-cost resettlement loans with very generous repayment terms."

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. Harry shrugged. It was not as if it was a secret. "That's true," said Ron. "It will be announced very soon. Bill told us just yesterday that Kingsley's managed to have the Great Mugwump negotiate fifty years subsidized loans for Britain with Gringotts International. They argued it would cost much less to the international community than to send aid and volunteers for the next fifteen years as they had first offered. Percy and Dad say the cabinet are unanimous. They don't want to be beholden for so long to the international community."

"I find it hard to believe that the Goblins agreed to this without demanding compensation," interjected Neville.

"They didn't," sniggered Harry. "They're keeping all the assets confiscated from the Death Eaters as security. They will administer them until full repayment."

"I'd have thought the Ministry would hold on to those assets and sell or lease them. It's not like they have much tax revenue right now."

"Percy says they haven't the means to administer them as efficiently as the Goblins will. The little money suckers will make sure their guarantee holds value and it's not as if the Ministry has much choice in the matter."

"Makes sense."

Since the alternative would be the revival of archaic laws like the actual fining of bachelors and childless couples, they could only agree that it was a step in the right direction.

§§§

Under Draco Malfoy's tutelage, Hermione was discovering the sociology of wizarding Britain. Always an enthusiastic student, she summarised for Harry and Ron the various political currents and opinions, and which families or financial interests supported them.

Unsurprisingly, many people still tried to cash in on all sides and supported radical purebloods as well as Shacklebolt's allies.

It didn't help that they were all related in one way or another, the blood pool of wizarding Britain being somewhat limited. This added family issues to the political and sociological mess.

Meanwhile, Neville racked his brains over the school lists and Owled his questions to Luna. They met regularly and with Ginny's help they tried to remember every occasion, every student who had been tortured, punished or spared through "pure luck".

Ginny and Luna made an appeal for witnesses amongst the students, while Neville and Seamus did the same amongst the members of Dumbledore's Army who had refused to return to Hogwarts after the end of the war. In the end, even Seamus (who still ranted about Snape's guts and five years' worth of nightmares in the Potions class) was surprised by the results.

The sheer number of narrow escapes was staggering: students got away with lines or essays, threats of retribution that never came to pass, ridiculously simple assignments to carry out with Filch or Hagrid, and more often than not, were sent to their Head of House with a pompous note expressing the Headmaster's "utter disappointment and disapproval" and his "hope that I can rely on your diligence to impress on this offender's mind how their behaviour tarnishes the good reputation of your House. You will see that an appropriate punishment is given." The Heads of House were supposed to send their students to either of the Carrows for punishment but they evidently did not. They all knew that neither of the Deputies ever issued a punishment that did not involve violence, humiliation... or both.

It was incredible that nobody had noticed at the time—but then, the students had been just too happy to escape and survive another day unscathed to wonder. The teachers had been too busy evading the Carrows themselves to do more than brighten their day with the knowledge of having managed to spare yet another student. It probably had to do with Snape's unrelenting verbal harshness and promises of "cruel punishment", when all they had to do was spend time in the Forbidden Forest under Hagrid's supervision... Hagrid who was loyal to Harry Potter to his fingertips!

How could they have all been so blind?

So many things about the war seemed incredible now, and had depended solely on Snape's acting skills and constant bluffing.

If he had really been a Death Eater, Snape could have easily got rid of the staff faithful to Dumbledore. It was silly to think he had no time or no way to replace them.

With the Headmistress's full cooperation, Hermione scanned through the staff files. She unearthed missives from the Ministry full of suggestions for the hiring of new teachers and dismissal of almost every one on staff. She also found a lot of application letters from quite talented sympathisers of the Pureblood creed. Many of them would probably have done quite well as replacement teachers, even discounting the propaganda. All of them received the same answer. "No position worthy of your talents is available right now, but we shall not fail to contact you in the future."

His own letters proved that Snape had shamelessly capitalized on Dumbledore's murder to drag things out with the most active zealots at the Ministry. He wrote that "the students already have to adapt to the change of Headmaster that I initiated and to the modified curriculum. Teenagers need strong, stable points of reference. It would be counterproductive at this time to introduce any more changes, particularly amongst the Heads of Houses."

He used his experience as a Potions master and Head of Slytherin to take up the position of Voldemort's unchallenged expert on education within the Inner Circle of the Death Eaters—to the unrelenting disappointment of Amycus Carrow, who could only boast of giving lectures in front of bored allies and family members as teaching experience.

In the end, it sickened even the members of Dumbledore's Army who had been through it all to imagine what could—what would have happened had a true Death Eater been made Headmaster and given free rein over the school.

Amycus and Alecto Carrow's pamphlets might be ridiculous, scientifically speaking, yet they were popular amongst the Death Eaters, and consistent enough with Voldemort's public stance to get them an appointment at Hogwarts. In the perpetual struggle for influence within the Inner Circle, there was little doubt that Amycus would have become Headmaster, as Dumbledore had surmised, if Snape had not been able to secure Voldemort's trust and gratitude by killing him.

None of them thought to ever feel relieved that Snape found the strength to carry out the murder – but they were now.

§§§

The Finch-Fletchley house stood in a rather posh neighbourhood. Ron quickly identified the doorbell and rang. The sound was melodious and he thought that he ought to ask Justin where to procure the exact same bell. It would make a nice birthday present for his dad.

A nice lady opened the door. She laughed when he mistook her for Justin's mother. She was the day housekeeper. None of the family was home but she happened to know that Justin had gone to play squash and directed Ron to his sports club.

Justin did not believe his eyes when he came out of the changing room but he was soon beaming and inviting Ron for a drink. "I can see your Auror robes through the glamour. I guess you're here in your official capacity but I'm parched. You won't give me some nonsense like not drinking on duty or anything like that?" Ron smiled back and denied any intention to be nonsensical. "Come. It's been some time since I last saw anyone from Hogwarts. I'll try to help you, whatever you want, but you'll first have to tell me the latest."

They were soon seated and Ron discreetly cast Muffliato and a mild Muggle repelling charm. They exchanged pleasantries and promises to meet again next Autumn after Justin had started his new job at Gringott's. His family had long been in finance and both his mother (a banker) and his father (a business lawyer) were as much interested as the Goblins in finding mutually profitable and discreet ways to do business. Justin had a foot in both worlds and joked that he was going to have a finger in two different kinds of pies as well.

Ron finished his drink and took out his notebook, "Now, let's get down to business. It's about Professor Snape."

Justin's smile faded and he blushed.

§§§

Snape's recovery was erratic. He would make swift progress, and then relapse, having drained himself. This happened repeatedly, until the Healers really understood how high was his tolerance to pain. They learned they had to check for the signs, because he would always mulishly refuse to admit that he had reached his limits.

At first, Snape had felt too tired for any angry reaction to be worth the effort, but he felt very frustrated. He would feel his power build up for several days and then… nothing. He could not stop trying, even if he ended up drained, because being defenceless was his worst fear.

Healer Constanz asked him why he felt he had to conquer his life rather than live it? Not having a ready answer certainly did not mellow his temper. He lashed out so violently at one of the physiotherapists that he almost blacked out.

When he opened his eyes again, he watched the wizard - yet another past student - bite his lip to contain his anger and bend to help him with the same gentleness he had always shown. Something tore in his chest and left him ashamed.

Why did you insult him like that? Are you truly a bastard at heart? he thought. You don't want to be remembered only as a villain and a murderer.

Just wait till they cart you off to Azkaban or to be Kissed, countered his Snape persona, which was the cold, paranoid part of his mind. Or to whatever kind of Circus Games the Ministry has set up for the Death Eaters. It won't matter how they remember you then.

Maybe, answered Severus, the spontaneous part of his personality – the more vulnerable too. But maybe not. I'm fed up with being an outsider. Why not blend in, for once?

Delusions, chided Snape.

Hope! cried Severus.

You'll regret it.

Probably, but at least, I'll have tried, decided Severus.

So, he managed to grumble "I'm sorry," feeling like a tongue-tied fool.

The startled look he was met with was the proof that he still was the same ill-mannered bastard.

He put his hand in the younger man's and was finally pulled up. He released the hand and exhaled deeply as much from the physical exertion as from feeling totally out of his depth. He was painfully straightening his back and his conscience.

It felt really awkward to deliver an apology while wondering if the healer would not just think that the Greasy Git was mocking him—but he managed it. He forced himself to repeat calmly (breath!) and almost clearly (darn useless throat! Articulate!), "I'm sorry, Healer Babock. That was uncalled for. Do not doubt that I appreciate your professionalism."

Babock's answer had the air of an automatic politeness. "You're welcome," he said, and continued acting a little bewildered the following days—probably wondering if it would last, but he was soon much warmer in his dealings with Snape.

Severus Snape blessed the much-too-soft-for-their-own-good nature of the Hufflepuffs who infested the ward.

He would have to try harder. Constanz told him often enough to "forget the future for a while, focus on the Now."

It was time to leave the miserable Professor Snape behind, since that persona was dead as far as he was concerned—even if he admitted to himself that it would need more than a little play-acting before it came easily… And before his voice ceased to dictate most of his acts.

But then, most of his life had been play-acting. He had learned to act like a pureblood aristocrat; like a Death Eater; like a teacher; like a spy; like a true bastard (well, that had come naturally)—and he had become each part rather easily. Would it be so difficult to act normal and polite, just like everybody else?

Severus desperately wanted this. He knew, without the pessimistic input of Snape, that peace and quiet never lasted in his life, but he was determined to make the most of this enforced stay in St Mungo's. Let it be a peaceful parenthesis at least.

And there was also the tiny hope that, just maybe, there might be a second chance for him somewhere.

A tiny hope that refused to be silenced.

§§§

Severus Snape's coming trial was just one of Hermione's, Ginny's and Luna's preoccupations.

Their seventh year was full of revision, but also of careers advice, meetings with potential employers or presentations by various Guilds and postgraduate programs.

Luna ignored all offers. She knew that she wanted to work for the Quibbler. As Harry had predicted, she seized the opportunity of the investigation into Professor Snape's actions in the war to interview as many students as possible. She used the interviews to write articles for her father's magazine. It soon became a chronicle of the war at Hogwarts, full of trivia and all the ordinary life details. It was an instant hit. Parents subscribed just to read about their children and everybody else was interested in what happened in their old school.

Xenophilus Lovegood was rubbing his hands in satisfaction. He was proud of his daughter and also more pragmatic that people generally gave him credit for. You cannot run your own business for long if you always have your head in the clouds.

He had turned more politically radical toward the end of the war, more critical of the system and it showed in the Quibbler. He had a network of like-minded friends all over the world. They were unconventional but politically aware people, very sympathetic to environmentalism. They published each other's papers, featuring rare and endangered magical species or celebrating the diversity of magical creatures. Xenophilus was determined to make his compatriots aware of the complexity of the magical world and of the waste of resources that decades of war had caused.

One of his regular contributors was the son of an old friend, a certain Rolf Scamander who was currently cataloguing the plants and creatures of Amazonia for the Magical University of Sao Paulo. He wrote Luna an amazingly friendly and encouraging letter, to tell her how much he liked her chronicle, which reminded him of his own student days and of home, while he was in the back of beyond. He was also full of questions, because he had been there for four years, working mostly alone or with locals, and totally missed most of the events at home. This made him homesick in retrospect. He unfortunately had another three-year contract and would not be able to come back before it ended.

It was the beginning of a steady exchange of letters via Rolf's exotic but resilient pelican that caused a sensation every time it flew into the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

Ginny remembered that Rolf Scamander had been in the same year as Charlie and a kindred spirit. Rolf was a Ravenclaw but her brother had often regaled his siblings with the tales of their pranks in the Care of Magical Creatures class which they both attended at NEWT Level. She remembered him visiting the Burrow a few times – a friendly, energetic boy whom they all liked.

It was a pity he was homesick. She made a point of writing to Charlie about Scamander's whereabouts and was glad to hear they were now regularly in contact. Not via letters though, since Charlie had no patience for writing, but via a Patronus. It was exhausting at long distance, but they were young, happy to become friends again and it was much more fun to share jokes with each other.

Professor Flitwick was overjoyed to hear about Rolf when Luna passed on his greetings to his former Head of House. More often than not, the sturdy pelican returned to Amazonia with two letters, sometimes three, since Pomona Sprout could hardly restrain her curiosity once Flitwick shared some of Scamander's information with her.

Another consequence of her papers in the Quibbler was that Flitwick suggested to Luna to revive the late Hogwarts Gazette, which had died from the lack of dedicated talents sometime during the 1950s. She eagerly accepted, since she kept hearing from her father how much he had learned about journalism when still a student, thanks to that "good old gossip rag".

It was an instant hit. The students just loved the monthly four-sheet, which featured House gossip, outlandish prophecies from Divination classes, lost and found column, maintenance advice from Argus Filch or interviews of unlikely figures like Peeves (who has grown inordinately fond of Luna, for the reason nobody could fathom) or some long forgotten and rather boring portrait.

Most people read Hogwarts Gazette thinking that Luna was deliberately writing parody. She earned herself the reputation of a tongue-in-cheek wit, which was rather close to the truth, but the joke was on them. It was not parody but the way she saw Hogwarts, and what could interest her readers.

Hermione, who was the paragon of logic and organisation, had despised the blond Ravenclaw almost on principle in earlier years. Psychotherapy made her radically re-evaluate her life and her perception of others, Luna amongst others. Now that she had to work more closely with the other girl, she discovered that what used to irritate her in Luna was that she was her opposite when it came to thought process.

The only child of a total eccentric and of a daring inventor who had lost her life experimenting with new charms, Luna was the closest thing to an intuitive genius you could find in the wizarding world. Her teachers generally did not understand how she reached her conclusions, but they were always correct. Her mind did not just work under the surface, it delved in waters so deep that she had no time, use or care for the trivialities of ordinary politeness and conventions.

Hermione said that her reasoning and Luna's intuition were like oil and vinegar, but once Luna suggested that it was the recipe for a good dressing, she laughed. If she could make friends with Draco Malfoy, who had tried to humiliate her at every turn in the past, how difficult could it be to appreciate someone who had painted her portrait in her own bedroom, alongside Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny, because she liked her?

§§§

If Luna had known since fifth year that she wanted to follow in her father's steps, Ginny was just as sure that she would never follow in her mother's.

"Don't get me wrong," she said, "I love my family and I want my own one day, but I want a career and I'll certainly never have so many children."

Ginny wanted a career and did not like office work, but that was the extent of her ideas for the time being. She was good at many things but did not think it was so vital to choose the right path at seventeen.

Headmistress McGonagall (who was also her godmother) encouraged her to widen her horizons – maybe travel or study abroad for a while. Her childhood had ended violently, when she was possessed by Tom Riddle at eleven and after that... there was the war.

Now at last came the time to enjoy her youth.

Even her mother, whom most people could not imagine doing anything else than staying at home, encouraged her, telling her that she was herself considering her options now that all her children were adults and the war was over.

A golden opportunity presented itself. Ginny was the Quidditch captain this final year. She had declined being Head Girl to focus on Quidditch, because she loved the thrill of it, and because she did not think she would have much opportunity to play in the future… except with her family, but it just was not the same. She was adamant in her desire to make the most of her last year at school and devoted a good deal of her energy to ensuring that Gryffindor would win the cup this year.

Professional teams always sent an observer to the final games at Hogwarts. They had tried to lure Bill several years ago, and Charlie, but they had both refused because they had other goals. Ginny was much more amenable when Madam Hooch told her she had caught the sight of several selectors.

She could hardly believe her luck in fact, but it was perfect for her at this point in her life. She even had a choice, since two teams finally made her offers. She barely hesitated before choosing the Holyhead Harpies who wanted her as a reserve Chaser. She was tired of being the only female in the family, so she signed with the all-female team.

§§§

Hermione was biding her time to decide her next step. For the first time in her life, she was not getting stressed with the fear of failing exams. What she feared most now was failing at life.

Her career choices and prospects were wide, bright and open. She could do anything she wanted, as every teacher told her.

Potential employers fought to secure the Brain of the Trio for their firm. She knew that any position, any apprenticeship was hers for the asking. She was Hermione Granger, war heroine, Harry Potter's friend, Minister Shacklebolt's and Arthur Weasley's protégée and a brilliant witch to boot.

Unfortunately, private sector employers only asked her what her price was for letting them benefit from her reputation. They hardly spoke of the actual work, challenges or research but all insisted on representative functions and public relations. They were willing to let her do whatever she wanted to keep her happy, even if it was just colour-coding charts. She went to interviews but each time returned feeling as little more than some kind of showdog on the market.

She had been offered several golden opportunities at the Ministry, too. They were willing to sign a contract before her NEWTs results. Once again, she knew she was sought more for what she stood for than for her competence.

The first time she went to an interview at the Ministry, she felt that something was wrong. She assumed it was the stress of returning to the place, after all that had happened there, not to speak of all the war trials she had attended. It was just the same every subsequent time.

It was only as she walked the trail back to Hogwarts, sometime in late May, that she could finally put the finger on what troubled her. No trace of the war was visible at the Ministry.

At Hogwarts, building teams were still at work on several parts of the castle. There were scaffoldings here and there, and she could even recognise Draco on one, his platinum blond mane gleaming in the sun.

It was obvious that the heir of the House of Malfoy found his place in a team for the first time in his life, and that he actually enjoyed it.

It made sense. Shared physical exertion was good for the heart and the mind. It was no coincidence that the Headmistress and Professor Sprout often asked the students to help in the restoration of the school's gardens and lawns.

Draco caught sight of her and waved.

She waved back with a smile, thinking once more how strange and marvellous it was to see the haughty aristocrat working so hard to help rebuild the castle.

Draco had barely been there three months when the Ministry architect, who had to stretch his time between too many sites, made him his assistant and all but handed him the plans.

Draco was the symbol of the renaissance of Hogwarts. He had first helped those who sought to destroy and conquer it, but he had learned his lesson and was now giving his all not only to rebuild it, but make it better.

He had proposed, in places, to let the battle damage remain visible for symbolic purposes: to repair what was needed to ensure the safe functioning of the place, but to let people see and remember that other people fought, suffered and died there.

He did it first in the corridor where Fred Weasley had died. There was the traditional memorial plaque, of course, but they all knew that, given enough time, nobody would ever read the plaque again. He had suggested the use of a different pattern in assembling the stone wall, just where it was blasted, so that the eye was drawn to it, like to an old scar, well-healed but there nonetheless.

He had proposed several other memorials too, the last being the place where Voldemort had died. No gaudy plaque, an urn or an ugly sculpture there. Just a tingling ward to warn off trespassers and a sober outline of his corpse where it had lain, stretched, while their minds had been trying to register the reality of it – that he was dead, dead at last, and that he would never wage war on them again.

For the first time in decades, the Headmistress decided to ask the students to discuss and vote on Draco's proposal in their common rooms. They had suffered, and they had to decide if they wanted the daily reminder of this suffering.

The students approved. The vote was practically unanimous, even in Slytherin.

§§§

When the Weasleys and all their relations visited for the unveiling of Fred's plaque, Molly stood transfixed for several minutes in front of the wall before dissolving into tears.

Hermione watched Draco, who was there at the back, flush beet-red, his eyes widening in dismay before he suddenly fled. He stayed in the park until dark, hiding when he heard people call his name. He returned only to go straight to the workers' dorm, packed his trunk and prepared to leave.

It was there that Hermione found him. For a Slytherin, he was quite transparent.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. "I never meant…"

"Molly's not angry with you. Neither are the other Weasleys."

"She cried."

"Yes, she cried. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. She lost her son, and she will never totally heal from that loss."

He shook his head. "I shouldn't have done it."

"You're right," she said sternly, "you certainly shouldn't have left like you did. You're not usually a coward these days."

Startled, he said, "I mean… I shouldn't have proposed the memorials in the first place."

"Oh cut the drama, please! It was a fabulous idea and everybody approved. You were proud enough, if I remember correctly. May I remind you that Gryffindor's vote was unanimous?"

"I know but.."

She insisted, "In case you didn't realise, this means that Ginny voted for it, too."

"Oh!" He hadn't thought of that, too busy wallowing in self-pity and guilt.

"Do you imagine she didn't think hard about it? Or that she didn't tell her family? The Weasleys have known all along. Did they object?"

"No."

"So, are you done feeling sorry for yourself?"

"I can't help feeling it's wrong, to make a mother cry." She almost did not hear him mutter, "If it had been mine..." before he bit his lip.

To change the mood, she handed him a letter, smiling brightly, "It's from Molly Weasley."

He took it gingerly, turned it several times but there was only his name on it, and it did not look like a Howler.

"I'll leave you to read it in peace."

She left, smiling to herself. She knew that he was going to shed a few tears. He would never want her to see, of course. Molly's letter was more like a note, but it began with "Dear Boy", it finished with "God bless you" and she had cried again while scribbling it and blotched the paper.

She could almost hear him say, "Gryffindors!" while shaking his head in disbelief.

§§§

There had been a battle at Hogwarts, and they all refused to forget it. They all aimed to make it a better place because of it.

By contrast, Hermione realised that she had been feeling out of place at the Ministry as soon as she looked at the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

It was perfectly repaired, of course, and nothing would remind you that it had once been damaged in their fight against the Death Eaters and then replaced by the horrific symbol of Voldemort's domination and racism.

The Ministry had done their utmost to erase all traces of the war. It was as if nothing ever happened there, as if they never learned any lesson. Most people did not want to speak of the war any more, so they erased all traces of it. Do not mention the war! she thought, feeling rather bitter.

The Hermione Granger who had been honed for six years by the Hogwarts system would have done fine there. She had been sure she just needed to enter the Ministry and then she would change the archaic wizarding world, by the force of law if need be – because it was the right thing to do. She would have fitted perfectly there, hardly questioning her own opinions, the rightness of her mission and her policies. She would have become a political force to be reckoned with… And a scary, overbearing witch.

But the Hermione Granger who had been wandering for months in search of the Horcruxes—numb, cold, starving, holding on desperately to the need to keep Harry going… the Hermione Granger who had her life torn apart by the Snatchers and Bellatrix Lestrange... that Hermione Granger could not fit into the Ministry any more. Not if this meant only dealing with grand principles and ideas while leaving the real, flesh and blood people alone with their pain, because it was the politically correct thing to pretend that nothing had happened... except once or twice a year in a commemorative political show.

There was only one place where she felt she could really make a difference to people's lives. Healer Constanz sent a delighted response to her application but warned her that the final decision depended on her NEWTs results.

They were exceptional, as expected. No one could equal her, even Luna with her own collection of Outstandings – but the blonde was so discreet about her own results, as usual, that nobody but the teachers congratulated her.

Ginny's results were not so stellar but she did very well in all her subjects and when she felt ready, she would be able to choose practically any career she fancied. It was totally liberating. She was free to enjoy playing Quidditch without having to worry about what she would do when the time came to retire from competitive sport.

When they left Hogwarts, Hermione was fully aware, as she boarded the Express for the last time, that the page was turned for good at last. She could now enter adulthood without any regrets or misgivings.

Minerva McGonagall watched them with misty eyes as they went through the great doors for the last time. Never had she been more proud of a particular group of students. She knew, without any doubt, that each one of them would leave their mark in the world.

TBC

Excellent beta work by Tra8erse, as usual. Really, you don't know what you would be reading without her.

I really would like to hear what you like, don't like or makes you wonder in this chapter.