Echoes
by TheFrancakes
All the things yet to come are the things that have passed
Like the old enough hands, like the breaking of glass
Like the bonfire that burns, in worth, in a fight felt too
Wasteland, Baby! - Hozier
Two.
The fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts was titled The Celebration of Memories. It had been decided early on instead of having a day of quiet remembrance etched with grief, that all alumni would be invited to the grounds of Hogwarts to remember the good and celebrate the lives of their loved ones. It was a hope to provide closure for some and bring the welcoming of a new world to others.
A team of event planners had transformed the entire grounds of Hogwarts into a sea of school colors with tents, booths, and games. Families gathered around one another, running into old schoolmates they had not seen in years, spreading joy and happiness. They recalled tales of their childhoods and teenage years. Memories whipped this way and that. Laughter bounced to the highest tower.
What the attendees didn't know was that they were the final step in replenishing the magic that had been lost. Yes, the castle had been rebuilt, but it needed the memories that it had used to grow. The Celebration would not be enough to replace the centuries of magic, but it would be a start. It would be enough to reopen the school.
The magic of every reunion seeped into the ground and fed the roots of the castle. Every tale spoken of time at Hogwarts was a spell in its own and nothing could be missed.
"...Just over there, I asked your mother to the Yule Ball. I was shaking so hard I dropped the daisies I was to give her; I couldn't believe she said yes. She wore a yellow gown that made her brown hair look like gold. I knew right then I wanted to have her for the rest of my life. And to think I almost went to Durmstrang…"
"...It had not been my first time on a broom, mind you, but the second I was thrown the Quaffle, I felt the electricity in my fingers. Something clicked and playing Quidditch became my future. It wasn't just a dream to play for the Harpies, it was a need I didn't even know I had. Hogwarts gave that to me…"
Sitting on the lawn with memories buzzing about her was Hermione Granger- The Brightest of Her Age, one third the Golden Trio, and now: The Witch That Saved Hogwarts.
With her eyes closed, she could feel the ground underneath her humming in approval. A breeze tugged on one of the soft curls that had fallen from her bun, thanking her for her discovery. She pressed her hands into the grass and whispered soft spells of healing into the roots.
"Hermione, come on, everyone's waiting for you," a soft voice said as she felt a tap on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked behind her; she smiled at Harry standing behind her.
"Thought I lost you for good when Romilda Vane caught you," she laughed, "she's still single you know." Her eyes drifted through the crowd of faces she knew and didn't, old and young, all smiling as if finally back at home.
Harry made a face of disgust and held out a hand to help her off the ground. "Had to stop Ginny from punching her right in the nose. She still hasn't forgiven her for that love potion."
Hermione laughed a little harder and noticed small daisies at their feet bloom with each word of Harry's memory from their sixth year.
"This is incredible Hermione, the castles never looked so good," Harry told her softly, his way of thanking her without getting his gratitude rejected as she had been doing the past year every time he tried to appreciate her work for the castle.
"It was the least I could do," she all but whispered, a hint of sadness to her voice as she looked up at the astronomy tower. "I'm just glad so many people showed. The memories were truly the last piece."
Harry followed her gaze and a soft frown graced his features. After a moment, before sadness took over and tears began to fall, Harry coughed and ran his hand through his hair.
The two best friends moved through the crowd, trying not to stop too long for the constant small talk that was thrust upon them. It was nothing either had not experienced before since the fall of Voldermort. Running a quick errand to Diagon Alley could turn into a two hour excursion with the amount of people that stopped her to thank her for her role in the war or tell her their story. She had gotten used to carrying a handkerchief for those that would start to tear at their tragic stories before hugging her with gratitude. Hermione always smiled through it, patiently nodding along, offering sympathy, and being the most humble heroine the wizarding world had ever seen. Everyone loved her.
What they didn't know was that the moment she entered her flat, she would triple lock her door and set her wards before pressing her back to it and slipping down to her safety net, the floor. A flurry of tears would escape her eyes as sobs wracked her body. Her breath would push and pull in her lungs making her gasp like she had forgotten which way the air was supposed to go. She would pull at her hair, the yank on her scalp giving her some sort of control over her pain. More often than not, after an hour on the floor to ground her, she would be able to pull herself together, stand up, and continue her day.
But sometimes… sometimes she would curl into a ball against the door and fall asleep in a puddle of her tears. Sometimes she needed the floor.
In the months after the last battle, Hermione's friends had been aware of her pain and would put her to bed when she fell asleep in the entryway of 12 Grimmauld Place. But these days she kept it all tucked inside as everyone forgot about the war and celebrated their newfound happiness and ease of life. It was not that everyone forgot, but just chose not to discuss it.
As Hermione found herself lost in her thoughts, Harry guided the pair of them towards Hagrid's hut where Ron and Ginny had set up a red and gold tent for them in the garden. It had not gone unnoticed to her that not one overheard memory spoken today had been about the death, destruction, and torment that also had happened. Not one person had mentioned Voldermort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or Tom Riddle. Even the mention of Death Eaters had been avoided.
A cold chill ran across her skin as the thought crossed her mind. Quickly she looked up from the daisies following her feet to see a shock of violently blonde hair standing against the rocks ahead of them.
"You! You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"
She had not meant to pull her wand out at him, let alone hold it right against his neck, but something inside of her was close to snapping. The war had barely yet started and she had already begun to tire of constant fear and death.
"Hermione, no!" her friends yelled behind her, but she barely heard them over the ringing of fury in her ears. "He's not worth it."
Her brown eyes traced over Malfoy's angular features, noting that had he not been cowardly shrinking against her wand, he might have been this side of handsome. She lowered her wand and turned away. She was not the sort to resort to violence, but when his laugh crackled through the air, she did finally snap.
Malfoy had not been expecting her to turn around again, let alone punch him right in the nose. He stumbled back a step, slamming the back of his head against the rock behind him.
As if the man before her were remembering the incident at the same time, he reached up and rubbed the back of his head. Hermione might have been surprised at his attendance if she had not been aware of the rather large donation his family made to fund the rebuilding. The donation was more than the second, third, and fourth largest contributions combined.
Malfoy's eyes caught her own and she felt something crack in her chest. He was leaning casually against the rock, wearing a dark gray suit tailored to his body with a crisp black shirt and gray matching tie. A glint of sunlight off of a light silver chain that hung from his hip and disappeared into his trouser pocket caught her attention and she felt her heart clench in her chest.
She felt the sudden need to run over to him once again, but the flutter in her heart made her wonder if it was to punch him or something else. Before she could move though, his gray eyes darted to Harry, who had also slowed his walking when he had seen their former enemy. The two men locked eyes for a moment, some understanding drifting between them. Hermione felt the worry and terror from five years ago bubble in her veins. Her breath was confused if it was supposed to exhale or inhale.
Malfoy did not let even a faint hint of emotion cross his sharp features. Instead, he gave Harry a slight nod of recognition. Hermione glanced up to see Harry return the gesture. Not friends, but not enemies. When she looked back to Malfoy, the blonde had left his spot and disappeared into the crowd, any glimpse of blonde hair not able to be seen.
Hermione felt her breath return to her from a soft breeze that wrapped itself around her, scooping up her memory as an offering to the castle.
—
After spending some quality time with the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry were escorted over to the Black Lake where they stepped onto the floating stage with McGonagall. The stage drifted away from the beach and raised several feet above the water, allowing everyone in attendance to be able to see. McGonagall spoke first, then Harry, and finally Hermione. She had rehearsed her speech in front of the mirror multiple times a day for the last two weeks. It flowed so smoothly from her lips, she had come to the end much quicker than she realized.
"... though I may have never finished my years at Hogwarts like most," Hermione spoke loudly to the crowd. There was a soft chuckle. "I always considered Hogwarts my home. It holds a special place in my heart and I am so grateful for all of your attendance. Your memories and laughter have helped revive the castle; I'm certain the magic within these walls has never been stronger thanks to your love of Hogwarts."
Hermione was used to the press and fanfare of her heroism from the past few years, but having thousands of eyes upon her was starting to rattle her strong walls.
"And it is because of your love today that I would like to announce that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will officially reopen this September first!"
The crowd erupted in a loud cheer and fireworks erupted in the sky above. Hermione looked to McGonagall on her left. "I thought you said no fireworks?" she asked quietly under her breath.
"I did." Minerva grumbled, her classic questioning and critical look in her eyes. Hermione's brown eyes scanned the crowd for the Weasley she suspected to blame for the beautiful display. But when she found the tall gangly ginger man, her breath caught in her throat as she saw double. Standing just next to George was Fred, bending over to whisper in his twin's ear. Together they laughed and gave Hermione simultaneous finger guns with matching winks.
"Look up," Fred mouthed to her. Hermione followed his direction in time to see the fireworks explode into a Gryffindor lion, roaring over the cheers of the crowd.
They were too beautiful to look away as they spanned the sky. They lit the clouds in beautiful colors, turning the castle into a piece of art. The Lion pounced upon the moon before it turned into a Raven, flying over the grounds before shapeshifting once again into a Snake that slithered and wrapped around the towers of the castle. Finally, its shape shifted once more into a badger that ran across the sky and burst into the large Hogwarts crest. The audience ooh-ed and aww-ed appropriately.
When the display was over, Hermione looked back at the twins to only find George standing alone, a soft sad smile on his lips and a tear stained cheek in remembrance of his lost twin.
Hermione felt a quick sting of a headache and closed her eyes again, as if she could will Fred to return and turn the fake memory into a real one.
Yet when she opened her eyes once more, George was still there standing alone, not even the ghost of his brother by his side. There was no Fred in sight; he had never been there.
"Possibly Peeves?" Harry suggested from McGonagall's other side.
"Possibly," she agreed, but she still couldn't imagine the firework display belonging to anyone but Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
After waving goodbye once more to the crowd, Hermione left the stage with McGonagall and Harry. Once her feet were back on the solid earth of the lawn, she sighed deeply, still shaken by the memory of Fred. Though her goal today was to revive everyone else's memories, she had been doing her best to keep her own buried deep down inside.
Yet once she was back alone at her flat, she dropped to the ground and sobbed.