Standard Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything of the Harry Potter empire. Nope, nada. No money is being made here, which is solely due to sleepless nights and a disgruntled muse who has a penchant for excessive caffein. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is entirely unlikely and is unintentional if it does happen.
Timeframe: Hogwarts immediately after the Battle, with some slight time alterations of events during the battle. AU afterwards.
Warning: The aftermath of a battle is never pretty.
Chapter 2: Wandering and Wondering
After leaving the Great Hall, Harry just started to wander through the castle. He was flummoxed by a question that Arthur Weasley had asked him about what he planned to do for the summer, and later. This, of course, followed an invitation for visit the Burrow at any opportunity, after all the funerals were over.
Harry had long been puzzled by Arthur Weasley. Arthur had always been kind to Harry, but he appeared severely puzzled by the nature of muggle technologies. He seemed to have no understanding at all about electricity, which was pretty fundamental to the modern mundane (i.e., non-magical) world. He worked at the Ministry, heading the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office which was held in contempt by most of the wizarding society, but seemed to have no concept of what the normal use of such things should be, so how could he determine any mis-use. But at the same time, he had been a member of the Order for longer than Harry had been alive, had led raids on Death Eaters houses, and even had taken on extremely dangerous assignments guarding the Hall of Prophecies. Until Bill and Fleur's wedding, his house had never been successfully attacked, and he had kept his growing family from harm through both phases of the Voldemort wars, at least until the final battle. He and his family, being pure-bred but definitely on the side of the Light and thus being obvious targets, had survived mostly intact. This was a quandary. Arthur couldn't be the weak-willed fellow he appeared.
Harry had learned very early that it was healthy to have your enemies underestimate you. Perhaps this was intentional on Arthur's part. Certainly, he did not fall prey to Draco Malfoy's overestimation of his own abilities.
And now Arthur had asked about Harry's future plans.
Harry had never thought much about what he wanted to do in the future, as in his heart, he didn't really think he was going to have one.
His original idea of becoming an Auror was no longer a consideration. Thinking back, he felt that the only reason he had suggested that as a career was because everyone had told him it was something him father had done, and he was desperate for anything that connected him to his parents. Given the last few years, his desire to spend his life chasing down dark wizards or just bad ones had evaporated. He felt he had done more of his share of that than anyone could ever ask.
More, he felt that, if after all he and his friends had been through, if the British wizarding world kept coming up with people who really needed to be stopped by the Aurors and Hit Wizards, or himself, he wasn't sure that he would even want to be part of such a society. However, he realized that every society had bad people, so it might be a case of 'the devil you know'.
However, most countries only had to deal with what the Irish termed 'ordinary decent criminals', as opposed to the terrorist types that seem to pop up in the magical world over and over again. Without the magical powers that the recurring Dark Lords (and Ladies) had, non-magical terrorists were somewhat more limited in what they could accomplish. Although not for want of trying.
He had wanted to settle down as a 'normal' person, with a family in a quiet life, but given what the Dursleys had tried to ingrain in him that constituted a 'normal' life and the life he had led to date, he had no idea how to go about achieving such a situation.
Did he want a wife and children? Probably. But he had read that children who were abused when young tended to become abusers when they grew up, and he would not wish that on any child.
A wife? Perhaps. Ginny Weasley seemed to have come to her senses and not be in love with 'The Boy-Who-Lived' once she really came to see what the BWL had to deal with, with all the Death Eater wannabes trying to kill him. Over and over and over.
For that matter, did Ginny want a life of quiet with lots of kids, like her mother? It did not seem likely. She was coming to terms with the limitations of that kind of life, and the mental strain that her mother had dealt with for all Ginny's life. Perhaps she wanted something else, something very different. Something that needed further consideration.
The only other young women that Harry had any significant experience with were Hermione and Luna Lovegood. He suspected that Hermione was sweet on Ron Weasley, but how much of that was because of his own unlikely survival he was not sure. Life with Luna would be interesting, at the very least, but was that something he wanted. He had no idea, but was likely something he would have to have deep thought about in the near future. Besides, it seemed that she was with Nev now.
Harry didn't really know what he could make of his life, now that the primary threat to that self-same life was gone. It seemed the only things he was good at were getting into trouble, having to deal with double-dealing professors and wizards, and being on the run. He had extensive experience gardening and cooking, and found he enjoyed those, although how much of that enjoyment was because the Dursleys didn't bother their slave when he was working, he was not sure. He knew he had his vault at Gringotts but hadn't been there for some time. He had his share in the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes store, but didn't think his experiences would stand him in good stead to be a shopkeeper, even if George wanted to still keep the business going without Fred.
One thing he did know was that he was not interested in politics. His experience with the wizarding government reminded him of the three Rules of Politics that he had been told:
You can tell when a politician is lying because his lips move,
An honest politician is one who, when he is bought, stays bought, and
You can slide farther on bullshit than on gravel.
The last Ministers of Magic that he had encounters with, or been told about, were either completely corrupt, stooges for Voldemort, or both, and in the case of Bagnold had been the one responsible (under suspicious circumstances) of throwing his godfather into prison without a trial.
He decided at some point, he would have to visit the bank to see what financial resources he had. Given his parents seemed to have been fairly well-to-do, he suspected that his vault for school expenses was not all there was available. Something more he had never been told.
By this point, the 'energy drinks' he had consumed had worn off, and looking around he realized that he had been wandering through the castle for a couple of days at least. From his upbringing and the year on the run, his hunger had gone unnoticed. However, he was exhausted, and he noticed that he was near the stone stairway close to the Great Hall.
Moving to the stairway, he sat down. Almost instantly, a house elf appeared in front of him. Trying to be polite, in spite of his fatigue, he smiled and asked, "Hello, who are you?"
The elf nodded, "I is Mipsy. I is a Hogwarts elf. You is Harry Potter, and you is hungry and tired. Mipsy be bringing food and drink. Elf chief needs to speak with you. But not until you is not tired or hungry." With this, the elf disappeared, reappearing with a large plate of sandwiches and a mug of tea.
Harry thanked the elf, not having even a clue if the elf was male or female. The elf disappeared again, leaving him sitting on the steps. The elf's wording was odd. It did not say the chief elf, meaning the leader of the Hogwarts elves, but the Elf Chief.
Picking up the first of his sandwiches, Harry noticed Madame Pomfrey coming toward him from the Great Hall. She looked utterly exhausted. Looking at his plate of sandwiches, she smiled "Those look delicious. May I join you?"
Harry smiled. "Why, am I falling apart again?", as he gestured for her to sit with him and share the plate.
Poppy smiled and laughed lightly. "Harry Potter, you are still a cheeky lad", as she grabbed one of the sandwiches and started eating as if she had not done so in a week. Which was a distinct possibility.
After a moment, Poppy started to giggle a bit. As Harry looked at her questioning this reaction, she said "They say revenge is a dish best served cold. We finally got back at an old pureblood healer who was such a complete pain to me and others when I was in training. He was also getting very sloppy, but we trainees couldn't say anything as he had seniority for almost a century. He demanded that we stop treating a muggle-borne student who was in dire straits, in order to help a pureblood kid who only needed rest and a bandage. One of the other senior healers asked him to recite clause three of the 'Healers' Oath'. As he proudly quoted the line 'On my magic, I will treat all patients to the best of my ability', the senior healer with us raised his wand and declared 'I call on magic to judge that this man has broken his oath by demanded negligent treatment of a patient in great need!' A look of horror crossed the man's face as he felt his magic leave him, as the senior healer demanded, 'Someone get this incompetent senile old squib out of here!'. The guy's healers' robe fell off him as his credentials and occupation left him. Good bloody riddance! I have been waiting years to see him get what he deserved.
"You may not know because the Headmaster kept it under wraps, but I am a half-blood. Because of that, and because of the bigotry that that pure-blood arsehole was a prime example of, I was never allowed to become a full-certified healer. I was at the top of my training class and had top marks in my NEWTs, but I wasn't 'pure' enough. They were losing at least half their potential healers because of that! That, and of course Snape's scaring off almost everyone wanting to take NEWT level potions. Idiots. The old bugger should have been put out to pasture half a century ago."
"We had another example of that attitude, which got quashed rather nicely. One parent of a pure-blood female student came into the hall, and saw the goblin healers and the muggle doctors working on some of the injured. He demanded that, and I quote, 'those animals' must not be allowed to touch any proper wizards or witches. The muggles and the goblins were working on a lung-transplant on a student, who had been hit with an organ liquifying curse to the chest. Fortunately, Auror Shacklebolt was standing very close with a senior healer. He asked the man if he was demanding that treatment stopped for an injury that St Mungo's healers could not treat, and the man self-righteously declared 'Yes, absolutely. Those animals have no right to even touch a wizard'. The Auror and the Healer looked at each other and nodded. Shacklebolt then charged the man with attempted premeditated murder, as the student was going to die without the operation. As they led him away, there was a cheer from the room, and I can say I never want to see goblins smile ever again."
Smiling, Harry asked, "So, are you done?"
Nodding sadly and exhaustedly, Poppy answered "Yes, we are done here. The cases that need more treatment have been moved to St Mungo's. The ones we could heal have been treated and just need rest. There were three we had to help along."
Harry grimaced in shock. "You couldn't help them? You helped kill them?"
Poppy nodded sadly again. "Mr. Potter, you have to understand there are some things we can't treat. One lad had been hit three times with the organ liquification curse as well as a cruciatus. He was in a lot of pain, and there was no hope for a cure. In warfare, they call it the 'coup de grace' or the 'stroke of mercy'. You can't let him die with such pain, so you give what help you can. That's just the way it is, and I have to say it's the hardest thing a healer ever has to do."
As she broke into tears, Harry wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a gentle hug.
She relaxed into his arm and slumped down a bit, exhausted.
Harry asked, "How long has it been since you slept?"
In a weary voice, she said, "it must be four or five days, but it seems longer." With that, Madame Pomfrey fell asleep. Harry tightened his grip, so that she would not fall down the stairs, and leaned back against the railing. With that, he fell asleep too.