This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. A longer story with many individual chapters is planned, but it is still in the early stages of development. Originally I only wanted to deliver a short one-shot, but then Plotbunny had something else in mind for me. So the One-Shot became the prologue, which I publish here. When I will upload the remaining parts is not certain yet, probably it will take years until the story is told completely. All of this is a translation of a story that was originally written in German. I hope I didn't make too many mistakes.
Unfortunately, I own only the ideas behind this fanfiction, all rights to Harry Potter are held by J.K. Rowling.
Prologue
"I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."
Harry weighed the Elder Wand in his left hand, felt the tingle of power emanating from it and looked directly at Ron and Hermione.
"I don't want the Elder Wand. It is too powerful for me. I couldn't handle it."
"Nobody can do that," he added after a brief pause for thought, trying not to look at Dumbledore's portrait now, who was already watching him the whole time. "He must go. Right now."
Hermione beamed at him, impressed by Harry's wisdom, and now also Ron nodded his approval.
"You're right, mate. It's probably for the best."
"It is," confirmed Harry and stepped to a wide window from which he had a good view of the castle grounds.
The sun was now quite high in the sky, it was already late in the morning. The last hours had flown by. Just a moment ago, he and Voldemort had fought a duel, and Voldemort's death curse had rebounded on him, finally destroying the most virtuoso and diabolical black magician of all time. Seconds later, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville and all the others had fallen around his neck, squeezing and hugging and congratulating him until he could barely breathe and it was a miracle that dozens of wands had not shattered in the unprecedented crowd. Afterwards, when the first explosion of joy was dispersed, they had all sat and talked in the great hall in random groups as they had escaped from the cheering crowd, recapitulating the events or just sitting there quietly and letting their thoughts run free.
It seemed to him as if the duel had only been minutes ago, but hours had passed. From the window Harry had a wonderful view. Beneath him stretched the Hogwarts grounds, now secured again by dozens of protective spells to prevent any Death Eaters that might appear from entering again. It was hardly recognizable anymore. Large boulders had been blasted out of the thick walls of the otherwise majestic castle and littered the surrounding meadows. Part of the Astronomy Tower lay at the foot of the walls, torn apart by a powerful explosion. The bridge to the castle had partly collapsed and the pillars still standing looked as if they were no longer held together by their own statics, but only by magic. In some places fires were burning in the grounds, where the flames could devour something flammable, and the air smelled of acrid smoke.
Here and there lay the bodies of Death Eaters who had perished in the hasty retreat. Next to the greenhouses, whose windows had almost all been broken and covered the ground with shards of glass now glistening in the sun, lay two dead giants. From a half collapsed greenhouse, some of the magical plants crawled out between the ruins and stretched their tentacle-like leaves towards the sun. Hagrid's hut had fortunately remained reasonably intact, but the beds next to it were completely devastated. Nearby, an wounded centaur dragged himself back into the forbidden forest, leaving a thin trail of blood behind him.
The sky stood in stark contrast to the oppressive image on the ground. The bright, warm May sun had driven the dark mark from the sky and now shone powerfully on the earth. The glistening light was reflected in the lake and made the surface of the lake glitter and sparkle in the gentle wind. A pair of seabirds rose from the surface of the water and quickly gained height with powerful flaps of their wings as they floated away towards the horizon. Above the forbidden forest circled a lone, masterless Phoenix, whom Harry saw for the first time in a year, and sang a happy song.
Harry laid his head back and looked into the cloudless blue.
"How peaceful the sky looks..."
Hermione stood beside him and did the same.
"Yes. As if nothing had happened. Surreal."
Ron stayed a little behind and kept silent. He was obviously lost in thought. His gaze betrayed which thoughts they were.
"I should go back to the great hall," he said after a while.
Hermione walked up to him and squeezed his hand.
"I'm going with you."
"I am going to bury the Elder Wand," Harry explained. "The longer I keep it, the harder it will be to give it up."
"Good idea," Hermione agreed with him. "See you in the Great Hall?"
Harry nodded.
"I hope the tomb is not protected by any protective spells. Otherwise it'll take a little longer..."
"You think so?" Ron asked. "Voldemort could also break into the tomb."
"But I'm not Voldemort, Ron," Harry reminded him benignly. "You see?" He pointed right at his face. "My nose, no slits."
A kind of tired smile appeared on Ron's face for a brief moment before it fell back into its sadly monotonous initial state.
"Good to know," he just put out.
"Maybe I should go with Harry," Hermione asked. It was obvious she was asking for his permission. She didn't want to leave Ron alone in this difficult situation for him, but saw that Harry needed her, too.
Harry looked at Ron. Only he could answer the question.
Ron nodded and touched Hermione's shoulder.
"Get rid the Elder Wand. I'll probably be in the Great Hall for quite some time."
"Shall we come downstairs with you?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his head and gave them a confident smile.
"I'll be fine."
Hermione nodded encouragingly to him, fished a stubborn splinter of wood from his red hair and stroked his forehead.
"See you, Ron."
"See you later, mate," Harry also said.
"Was it really a good idea to let Ron go like that?", Hermione asked less than 30 seconds after Ron had left.
Harry shrugged, his gaze was uncertain.
"I don't know, Hermione. But down in the Great Hall is his whole family, mourning Fred. I don't know if we should be there now."
"I feel so sorry for him," Hermione suddenly sobbed. "All of them! Fred was such a good guy, so young, and now he's dead!"
"I know," said Harry. "It's just not fair." That's all he was capable of.
He put one arm around Hermione, as tears were running down her face.
"Come on, let's go."
Harry and Hermione left Dumbledore's former office - for Harry it was and remained Dumbledore's office, no matter who actually was the headmaster of Hogwarts - descended the spiral staircase, climbed past the gargoyle, who had once served as a doorman nad who was now lying on the floor in a miserable state looking with apathetic gaze, his two eyes squinting in two completely different directions, and made their way down. After a few metres Harry stopped.
"Hermione, wait."
"What is it?" she asked worriedly.
"I can't watch it like this. Dumbledore would not have wanted the gargoyle that served him so faithfully for so many years to be lying on the ground so badly battered.
Harry raised his wand - the Phoenix wand, not the Elder Wand - pointed it at the Gargoyle and shouted "Reparo! From the vicinity of the figure lying on the ground, chunks of stone rose from the floor, flew back into the holes from which they had been blasted out with brute force, then a cloud of dust opened up, merged with it and closed all the remaining joints. Finally, the gargoyle rose back to its feet and took its rightful place as a doorkeeper. When Harry and Hermione had turned around again, the stone figure, who was otherwise so silent, voiced a sincere "Thank you, Mr. Potter!"
Harry sucked the air deep into his lungs and expelled it powerfully.
"That felt good, Hermione."
She nodded at him smiling and patted his back.
After a few minutes walking silently side by side, they both hesitated for a moment as the corridor branched off in front of them. They were still walking on the seventh floor. In front of them lay a diversion that would take them a little more time than necessary, and the short path that led across a corridor that they had already passed several times in the past hours and in which not only the destroyed Room of Wishes lay, but in which also a huge hole gaped, that had already caused so much pain with its debris flying in all directions.
Hermione and Harry looked at each other. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He was thinking the same thing.
"Hermione, let's clean up here. No one needs to see this mess. Let's pay our respects to Fred."
"Good idea, Harry. I don't want Ron and the other Weasleys to have to see this place like this again. It would only break their hearts again," said Hermione, almost whispering her last words.
They pulled out their wands.
Harry shouted "Reparo!" loudly, and with the Phoenix wand sent various scattered beams and sandstones back into their part of the wall, making the hole a little smaller. Hermione let her magic wand sink again, however.
"What's wrong, Hermione?"
Hermione pulled a face and pushed away a tear.
"It's that stupid wand, Harry! I don't want to help rebuild Hogwarts with Bellatrix's wand, which was responsible for so much suffering and grief. It doesn't obey me properly and it... it just wouldn't be right. Especially not here, where Fred died. - I want my wand back, Harry," she added with a weak and tearful voice.
Harry understood.
"You are right. Fred wouldn't want that. But this problem can be solved."
Hermione looked at him questioningly.
"Here, take mine. I still have the Elder Wand. With it, the whole clean-up operation will probably go a lot faster."
Harry handed over his Phoenix staff, which he had repaired and made functional again only minutes ago, to Hermione and reached for the Elder Wand, which he had stowed in a pocket of his trousers.
"Better"?
"Much better," Hermione replied, putting away the walnut wand of Voldemort's most fervent admirer and showing Harry a confident smile, in which he also saw a spark of pride in the fact that he had so unconditionally entrusted his beloved wand to her.
"On three, Hermione! One, two, "Reparo! "
The power of the combined repair spell surprised both Harry and Hermione. After less than 10 seconds, during which a storm of wood splinters, stone fragments, mortar and wallpaper remnants burst out in front of them, the gaping hole in the corridor was closed. Harry's Elder Wand performed true miracles, but Hermione's magic was also much stronger than she had imagined.
"Wow Harry!" an astonished Hermione beamed after the deed was done. "Your wand seems to like me. It may not feel as good as my own, but the difference is not as big as I thought! For not being his master, I really had a lot of control and power. Compared to Bellatrix wand, the difference is like day and night!
"Perhaps something of his master will rub off on the wand?" grinned Harry. "After all, the master of my wand likes you too."
Hermione began to smile.
"I hope so too! But it is quite possible, Harry. Think of all the events between your wand and V-Voldemorts. There must be a transfer of thoughts or feelings between wand and wizard. Maybe we can ask Olivander the next time we are in Diagon Alley. I have to go to him anyway to choose a new wand. Unfortunately..."
Harry nodded.
"I will gladly accompany you. After all that we have done for him, I am sure he will make you a new wand that is like your old one. If anyone can do it, Olivander can. But first, let's wait a few days to see if the war is really over."
"I'll come back to that, Harry," said Hermione. "Can I use your wand again? I've just had an idea."
"Sure. Whatever you want."
Hermione and Harry ran to the spot where Fred had collapsed with a fatal blow. Hermione knelt briefly and blinked away several tears that had shot in her eyes. Then she raised the wand and made a plaque appear on the wall, to remember the life of Fred.
This is where Fred Weasley died (1978-1998)
Loyal friend, unshakable personified joyfulness,
Defender of Hogwarts
May your far too short life remain so unforgotten
like your enthusiasm in cheering up your environment
The plaque's inscription was framed by a stylised firework, a swamp and a broom, three symbols which Harry was sure would go down in the annals of Hogwarts, or rather, had long since gone down.
"Hermione, that's beautiful," Harry said softly, patting her arm. Now his eyes became moist as well, while Hermione let her tears flow.
"Thank you Harry," she sobbed and took a moment. "But it's not quite finished yet."
"No?"
"No", she said, wiping the tears from her face, clearing her throat, and waving the wand again, this time without a word.
"What did you do," Harry asked.
"Permanent glue spell," Hermione replied, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "Fred has earned this. So that neither Filch nor any teacher can take this plaque away without tearing Hogwarts down."
Harry's face, which had just been deeply sad, suddenly began to brighten up, until it finally ended in a smile.
"Brilliant, Hermione! Fred would've liked that."
Hermione nodded. Her face was wet with tears, her eyes reddened, but the corners of her mouth pointed upwards again. Now the funeral, then the long process of emotional healing could begin.
Hermione handed Harry his wand again, but he pressed it back into her hand.
"Keep it for moment. I have another idea."
Harry led Hermione a few metres further along the corridor and she understood. The door in the middle of the wall looked very battered and that was not surprising, for the fire had been of tremendous destructive power. So powerful that it could even destroy a Horcrux. Harry did not know if the Room of Requirement still existed. He couldn't be really sure, but his gut feeling told him that the Room could not have survived such a catastrophe. That was now to be found out.
"Back on three, Hermione," he said. That was all that was needed.
"One. Two. "Reparo! "
Harry felt the pure power take possession of him, the Elder Wand vibrating in his hand, hairs beginning to stand up all over his body, impacted by magic of unimaginable power, and finally everything returned to normal.
"Wow, that was intense," Harry marveled, half astonished, half shocked, at what the Elder Wand was capable of.
"Indeed it was, Harry," agreed Hermione, who had also felt the power of the Elder Wand, although she stood a yard away from Harry. "Your wand worked hard, too, I noticed that dor sure. But at least now you have proof that it is as good as new. No damage left behind. Thank Merlin...", she whispered.
Harry knew that she was still blaming herself for being indirectly responsible for the breaking of his wand, and thought now was a good time to take these self-reproaches away from her once and for all.
"He's perfectly intact, Hermione. You needn't feel guilty about what happened at Christmas. It's over, it's working again. Look!" Harry thought briefly of the moment a few hours ago when Voldemort had just dropped dead and Hermione, Ron, Ginny and everyone else had fallen around his neck in pure joy, then cried out "Expecto Patronum!" to demonstrate with this powerful spell that his wand had indeed been fully restored. Out of the Phoenix wand came a silver mist, brighter than ever before, and in a flash, he sat down to form a stag, which stopped a few metres from Harry and triumphantly presented its magnificent antlers, this time two antlers more than usual. Harry did not know whether it was the wand or the particularly happy and present memory he had chosen, but he knew that his wand was completely healed. And the happy look that adorned his face also convinced Hermione.
Only one thing remained to be done. Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes and wished with all his might that the previous spell had worked and Room of Requirement had been repaired. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then a door in the wall opened to reveal a room. It was not large, but it looked very familiar to him. It was round, decorated in the Gryffindor colours and dominated by five, no, six four-poster beds. It was the Gryffindor dormitory, which he had not entered for almost a year, except that there was one bed too much in it.
Why, Harry could not say, but he knew that the Room of Requirement was working again. The repair had actually worked!
The room had not only fulfilled his superficial main wish, but also his subconscious second wish, the desire for rest and sleep. Harry would have loved to fall straight into bed and close his eyes, but he knew that he had a mission to accomplish first.
"Come, Hermione, now we'll take the Elder Wand away."
Hermione smiled, and together they made their way to the grand staircase to then walk to Dumbledore's tomb.
After returning the Elder Wand to Dumbeldore, closing the white marble tomb and performing all kinds of protective spells, they both silently remembered their former headmaster and the newly deceased before returning to the castle. It had been an oppressive feeling to open the tomb, to disturb Dumbledore's rest now for the second time in a short time, albeit this time for the right purpose, and to put the wand back into his cold, pale hands. He lay there as if he was asleep. The embalming spells had no doubt worked.
Harry still couldn't really believe he was dead; his conversation with him just a few hours before had felt so real. Had it been real? Or had he only imagined the conversation? Harry did not know. Had he really died at all? Or only almost? Only the part of Voldemort in him? He had no answer to that either. Harry decided to discuss this one day with Hermione and Ron, but there was time. Now these questions were completely meaningless to him.
On the way back to the castle, Hermione suggested to stay a little longer outside by the lake in the warm sun. So they changed their plan to go into the Great Hall and sat down beneath one of their favourite trees, an old willow with several thick roots running horizontally, whose shade they had often enjoyed in previous summers and which they had enjoyed visiting on beautiful summer and spring days to make plans, do homework or, in Hermione's case, read. Today, they just sat there and stared silently at the lake, the only part of the entire Hogwarts grounds that seemed to be intact apart from the sky.
"We should eat something, Harry," Hermione remarked after a while.
Harry shook his head.
"Not hungry."
"Me neither. But we should still. We haven't eaten since last night, and we didn't get a chance to before that because of the bank robbery."
Harry knew she was right.
"Shall we go in?"
"I don't want to go in," she said quietly. "It's nice here. Nice and peaceful, quiet. Warm. Let's stay here, Harry."
Harry frowned at Hermione's contradictions. Then he had an idea.
"I could call Kreacher and ask him to make us two sandwiches and bring something to drink. If you don't mind, of course...", he hurriedly added, knowing that orders for house-elves for and with Hermione were a delicate subject.
Hermione thought for a moment, but then agreed.
"Okay, Harry, I agree. But only if he's not too busy."
"Deal," Harry promised. "This way, we can see if Kreacher and all the other house-elves are well and out of danger."
A memory flashed in his eyes, it seemed to be years old, though it was only a few hours. "No, you don't have to kiss me now", he laughed and grinned at her.
Hermione turned pink and rammed her elbow into his ribs.
"Oh, I won't. Especially not after that remark!"
Harry smiled at her from the corner of his eye.
"You don't have to. Before Ron gets jealous."
"Harry!" She sparkled with an evil look, even though her eyes betrayed her.
"That reminds me that I haven't thought of you at all," she said a few moments later. ", For everything today. And before that."
"That goes without saying, Hermione," Harry replied. "It was my fate. I couldn't help myself."
Hermione stared at him stunned.
"Goes without saying? Harry, none of this today, or last year, or the last seven years, none of it was goes without saying. None of it! Honestly, what you have done here and now, that was the exact opposite of it. It was incredibly brave, incredibly selfless, incredibly courageous! You not only fought against superior wizards, you w-went even into the forbidden forest," she stuttered as she realised the full extent of her thoughts, "to get y-yourself killed. T-to sacrifice yourself for the greater whole. What about that goes without saying?"
"It was what I had to do," Harry said succinctly.
Hermione swallowed.
"Yes, I guess it was. But it did not go without saying! It was one of the greatest and most selfless deeds a magician has ever done! Please never forget that, Harry! And for that I want to thank you properly now," she said proudly, sat up, took his face in her hands and then gave him a long, tender kiss on the forehead, right next to his scar.
"Thanks Harry", she whispered. "For everything. And for being such a good friend."
Now Harry was blushing a bit, even though deep inside he knew that Hermione was right. Well, at least that wasn't too hard, because Hermione was almost always right.
"But without you I would never have managed all this," he said after a few moments. "I didn't win this war alone, just because I ended up going into the forest alone, or because it was me from whom Voldemort's spell rebounded. At the time when the Horcruxes were destroyed, anyone could have killed him. That it was me was only because of that stupid prophecy. What would have happened if the prophecy did not exist? If nobody had known about it? What if Voldemort wasn't so fixated on the prophecy? What then, Hermione? When we were in the Great Hall, we were facing each other, we were circling each other, he didn't dare attack me at first. It was all because he believed in the prophecy. And everyone in the room said, "You and I have to kill each other".
"What do you mean, Harry?" asked Hermione.
"At that moment the prophecy had long since been fulfilled, hadn't it, Hermione? He had to kill his part in me, the Horcrux in me. But after that? Anyone else could have killed him then, couldn't they? When we danced around us and he was only fixated on me, he didn't perceive anything else but my voice. Anyone in the room could have shot him in the back. He was vulnerable. It didn't have to be me. Not here anymore. It could have been anyone. And even the story about the Elder Wand disobeying him had nothing to do with me as a person. If Ron had disarmed Draco and become master of the Elder Wand, and not me, only Ron could have saved us. Quite contrary to the prophecy. It was chance, Hermione, the way things turned out. I was only important because I carried the Horcrux, and Voldemort secretly feared me for it. Once he had killed the Horcrux inside me, and Neville had finished off the snake, he was just a very powerful wizard with a very powerful wand that disobeyed him. Hard to defeat, yes, but not impossible. It was only important that he attacked the true owner of the Elder Wand, so that he was denied service. That was me. But it could have been anyone else."
Hermione recapitulated Harry's words.
"I guess you're right," she said after a while. "But still, you shouldn't hide your light under a bushel. The courage, the bravery, the selflessness, all this may well be related to the prophecy, but it came from you. From you. From here," she declared emphatically, placing her right hand on his chest. "These were your virtues, your will, your determination to bring him down for good. You did that alone. And not many others could have done that. Dumbledore, probably. McGonagall, perhaps. Maybe Neville too, the way he fought today. But that was more than just the typical courage and bravery of a Gryffindor. That was an outstanding, even heroic, achievement, Harry. That's why I'm so proud of you," she said, placing her head against his shoulder.
Harry smiled.
"Thanks, Hermione."
"Still, I could never have done it without you. We were - are! - a great team. Without your knowledge, for example, we would never have come this far. We wouldn't have found out about the Deathly Hallows, we wouldn't have had a chance to destroy the Horcruxes and identify Voldemort's flaws in his plan. Besides, you have already saved my life a dozen times, and that is long before this hell of a year had even begun! Without you I would not be here now. I have you to thank for that as well.
"You don't have to," replied Hermione. "We are friends. Good friends. It's part of the contract of a good friendship."
"But I want to thank you."
"Then it's okay," Hermione smiled, lifting her head from his shoulder and looking him in the eye.
Harry saw her eyes reflect everything he felt towards Hermione but could not put into words. Everlasting friendship. Unconditional trust. Unwavering reliability. The wordless promise to go through thick and thin together. And a deep love that only two long-time best friends could feel, who had already experienced and endured much together.
"Thanks, Hermione. For being there and staying there and being with me notorious magnet for all kinds of mischief. ...and helping me get out of this mess."
Then Harry pulled Hermione towards him and kissed her on the cheek.
They sat next to each other in silence for several minutes until Harry's stomach made a noise and they remembered that they actually wanted to eat something.
"Kreacher!" Harry shouted, and with a loud crack the old house elf of the Black family appeared. "Master has called," said Kreacher and, as always, bowed deeply before his master, but this time it was a little harder than usual.
Harry was the first to realise why.
"Kreacher, you're hurt!"
Now Hermione saw it too. The house elf had a deep cut on one of his skinny, bony legs, which he had bandaged with a shred of cloth.
"Kreacher, you must be treated," said Hermione. "The wound looks bad."
"Kreacher has already taken care of his injury," argued the house-elf and turned to Harry. "How can Kreacher help his master?"
"By getting treatment first," Harry said. "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey has a remedy that..."
Hermione interrupted him.
"I don't know if that's a good idea, Harry. I am very sure she is very busy at the moment. Besides...", Hermione chewed on her lower lip and looked anything but happy, "House elves are not a priority in treatment. Kreacher would probably have to wait a long time and would get provisional treatment at best," she added with open disapproval of this established practice.
Harry nodded sadly. The more he learned about her, the more he understood Hermione's commitment to non-human magical beings.
"Can we do anything?" he asked. "Hermione, do you still have the tincture you used to treat Ron when he splinched? Does it work on house-elves too?"
"I think so," she said. "Kreacher, do you know of any harmful side effects of medicine intended for wizards and witches on house-elves?"
"Kreacher has not heard of any such side effects. But Kreacher has never been treated with medicine."
"It's about time," Harry said. "Hermione, if you like."
Hermione beamed.
"I do."
Hermione rummaged through her beaded handbag, which she still carried with her, and laid a towel in the grass in front of her. She then fished for the bottle of dittany and told Kreacher to sit on the towel. The house elf was very shy at first, just as if he was afraid of the towel. After Hermione had assured him that it wasn't clothing and Harry had asked him with a lot of tact to get treatment - it was important to Harry not to order him to do so - he finally sat down on the towel and stretched his foot towards Hermione.
Hermione carefully removed the piece of cloth around Kreacher's thigh; the inner layers were soaked with blood. The wound underneath was not too long, but deep and therefore looked pretty bad. Hermione pointed her magic wand at the wound and spoke a formula that Harry didn't know, and the encrusted blood disappeared. Harry assumed it was a spell to cleanse the wound. After making sure that the wound was sterile, she reached for the healing elixir and dribbled the small residue that had remained in the vial onto Kreacher's thigh. The house elf flinched at first contact, but did not move away. After a few seconds the wound was closed.
"How does it feel, Kreacher," Harry asked, as Hermione put the now empty bottle back into her beaded bag.
The house elf was still sitting on the towel, the raging turmoil in him was openly felt by Harry and Hermione. Finally, he pulled himself up until he stood as straight as Harry had never seen him stand, and then bowed so low to Harry that his nose hovered just millimetres above the ground. Then he turned around, looked at Hermione and, after some initial trembling, bowed to her as well, though not quite as deeply as to Harry.
"Kreacher is glad to have such a noble lord as Master Harry," the house elf croaked in a muffled voice. "Master Harry and Miss Hermione treat Kreacher really excellently. Kreacher is very grateful for that."
Harry beamed at the house elf. He had never experienced such an emotional outburst from him before. Then he wiped a tear of joy from Hermione's face with his thumb that she had not been able to hold back.
Half an hour later, it was already early afternoon, they made their way back to the Great Hall. Kreacher had brought them pumpkin juice and sandwiches after his recovery - both Harry and Hermione had insisted that he prepare just a little something for them and then rest - which were so well topped that he had never seen anything like that before. In addition to butter, ham, cheese, egg, onions, olives, peppers and dozens of different forms of salad leaves, Kreacher had used at least a dozen other ingredients, some of which Harry didn't know at all, but which gave the sandwiches such a delicious taste that he could not have imagined even in his wildest dreams. And this was not only because culinary delights were extremely rare in the last year or so.
The closer they came to the castle, the slower they became. Hogwarts was in a truly pitiful state. The castle had been badly hit, harder than Harry would have thought at night. Huge holes gaped in the walls, caused by powerful explosive spells, the ground torn open and here and there drenched in blood, countless stone defenders lay smashed to pieces on the ground, the Ravenclaw Tower was burned out and only a soot-blackened ruin, as Harry only now noticed. And this damage was nothing compared to the physical and mental injuries the defenders had suffered. Harry and Hermione squeezed past a bell lying on the ground, which had been blown out of the clock tower and now blocked the entrance to the castle, climbed over the remains of the statues and armour scattered on the floor of the entrance area, thereby giving each other support, and moved towards the Great Hall.
The mood was now different from that of a few hours earlier when Harry, Hermione and Ron had left to go to the headmaster's office. Gone were the droning conversations after the battle had been won, when all the defenders had gathered in the hall and talked, sometimes euphorically, sometimes depressed, but always loudly, to their bank neighbours. A lot had happened since then. The hall had emptied noticeably. Only a few families and a few scattered defenders, who didn't know where to go and therefore had stayed where they already were, had remained. Hannah Abbot was such a case, sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Cho Chang and taking care of Dennis Creevey, who had lost his brother in battle. Horace Slughorn, still dressed in his pyjamas, was sitting at another table with Hagrid, several, mostly empty bottles of spirits in front of him, and looked as if he still couldn't believe what had happened that night. Again and again he shook his head and stared at Hagrid, the wall and the bottles in front of him. At the teacher's table, Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shackelbolt were involved in a conversation that looked extremely important.
In a corner of the room, a little away from the Gryffindor table, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charly, Andromeda Tonks and the little wizard with the tufted hair who had performed the funeral ceremony for Albus Dumbledore, stood and talked quietly and with serious looks. Harry suspected that they were planning the funerals of Fred, Remus and Tonks, and felt an agonising stab in his heart. And then he saw the rest of the Weasleys. They were sitting at the Gryffindor table, George in the middle, and he was crouching on the table with his arms entwined and his face hidden. Ginny had wrapped her arm around him and leaned her face, wet with tears, against his back as she sobbed again and again. Ron was sitting on the other side of George, one hand on his back, his eyes glassy and red, his thoughts far away. Percy sat opposite them, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. Next to him was Fleur, holding Ginny's free hand while Neville spoke reassuring words to her, but Harry doubted their effect.
Harry swallowed. The sight made his heart bleed. Watching the Weasleys suffer so much, the family closest to him, to whom he more or less belonged, was the most terrible moment in his life to date, including the death of Cedric Diggory. Hermione next to him was no different. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
"We must go to them, Harry," she whispered in an obdurate, broken voice. "Be there for them. They need us now."
Harry nodded.
"I know, Hermione. I know..."
They walked silently and in slow, not too fast, not too slow steps to the Weasleys. Harry stood beside Ginny, who had not seen him coming, while Hermione sat down beside Ron and took his hand.
"Hey," said Harry, and put his hand on Ginny's shoulder.
Ginny broke away from George and looked Harry in the eye. She looked terrible, her eyes blood-red, her face smeared with tears, her once beautiful hair tousled and dusty. It broke Harry's heart to see Ginny like that.
"I... I'm so sorry, Ginny," he stammered. That was all he could say.
Ginny looked at him for a brief moment, then she threw herself into his arms and began to sob.
"Come here," whispered Harry, and squeezed Ginny as hard as he could. Two metres apart, Hermione and Ron stood in a similar pose, the difference beeing that it was Hermione who gave Ron strength. For a brief moment, Harry looked Hermione helplessly in the eye before he buried his face in Ginny's shoulder and, for the first time since his childhood days, also began to cry.
Some time later - Harry could not have told whether it had been 15 minutes or 5 hours - the older Weasleys came to the table, and Mr. Weasley explained the procedure for the next few days, including the funerals arranged for Fred, Tonks and Remus, while Mrs. Weasley simply sat at the table motionless, sobbing into her handkerchief now and again. Then they fell back into a mournful silence in which Harry joined in. At the same time, he felt incredibly tired, not only from the battle, with all its physical and psychological strain and wounds, but also from what was now some two and a half days without sleep. Harry struggled to keep his eyes open and, when he seemed unable to do so at all, he said goodbye to the Weasleys, most of whom were no longer responsive anyway. Hermione obviously felt like Harry, and after a brief consultation with Ron ("Go to sleep, I think I'll stay here a while longer") she left the great hall with him.
They made their way to the dormitories in the Gryffindor Tower largely in silence, interrupted only by a brief conversation with Professor Flitwick, who thanked Harry and Hermione on behalf of the whole school and attested them to be true Gryffindor students in it's most important meaning. Arriving at the Gryffindor entrance, they found that this part of the castle was also affected by the fighting. Although the destruction here was not quite as bad as in other areas, an explosive spell had struck right next to the Portrait Hole to the common room, leaving the Fat Lady badly wounded by splinters: She lay in a portrait next to her own on a stretcher and slept loudly snoring, her more than plump body covered with plasters and bandages. Her friend Violet stood beside her with a worried look, while Sir Cadogan was on duty in the portrait hole, watching over the Fat Lady and Violet at the same time.
When he saw Harry and Hermione, true eulogies started to burst out of him, praising the bravery and courage and much more of the Golden Trio over and over again. He even declared Harry to be the bravest Gryffindor of the whole millennium. After Harry and Hermione had heard enough, they asked to be let in and were granted access without a password ("How could a mere portrait deny such brave warriors, after a successful battle, the ardent desire for well-deserved rest? Farewell, noble fighters for good").
When he arrived in the common room, Harry first noticed how empty it was inside it. Only Dean and Seamus were sitting on the couch near the fireplace, where Harry, Hermione and Ron had so often sat, talking quietly and making a very happy impression of being together again. In the background, near the stairs to the girls' rooms, Harry's former Quidditch team mates Oliver Wood and Katie Bell slept on two other sofas. Having reached the stairs, Harry stopped to say goodbye to Hermione with a hug, but she made no attempt whatsoever to go to her own dormitory.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked with a little uncertainty in her voice. "I just don't want to be alone right now."
"Uh, sure," said Harry and stomped up the stairs, whereupon Hermione followed him. When he arrived in the dormitory, he saw Neville lying asleep in his bed, fully dressed, his clothes covered in dirt. In front of his bed lay the sword of Gryffindor, with which he had killed Nagini. Harry drew the curtains at the window, which Neville must have forgotten completely (according to the position of the sun it was 6 o'clock in the evening at the latest), sat down on his bed and took off his shoes, then his jumper. He then removed his glasses and put them on the bedside table next to him, together with his two wands, his own and the wand won by Malfoy, and dropped onto the bed he had been missing for so long.
Hermione stood between his and Ron's bed, obviously unsure whether she was allowed to or should just lie down in Ron's bed. After a moment's thought, she pointed her wand at a chair that was standing there and transfigured it into another four-poster bed, into which she then laid down, after having placed her wand and her bag in front of it, fully dressed except for her shoes.
"Good night, Harry," she whispered, closed her eyes and made herself comfortable.
"Sleep well, Hermione," Harry whispered back. Then he too closed his eyes. Only seconds later, the dormitory with the six four-poster beds disappeared and was replaced by emptiness. It was almost lunchtime when Harry woke up again.