Part Two: Hogwarts
"Is that Harry Potter?"
"I think it is! Why do you think he's here?"
"I dunno.do you?"
"Why would I ask you that, you stupid git?"
Harry sighed. Somethings would never change. No matter why they what they were whispering, he would always be on the minds and mouths of witches and wizards. He closed his eyes, hoping for a refuge from the nightmares that had been plaguing his sleep. The next thing he was aware of was the whistling of the train, signifying their arrival.
He walked to the castle, opting not to ride in the carriages with the students.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Harry Potter," Albus Dumbledore greeted Harry, hugging him with the strength of a man much younger than himself.
"Hello, Professor," Harry said. Professor Dumbledore stared into the young man's eyes and wanted to cry. The impish spark that had always, even after the mess with Diggory and the revival of Voldemort, been there had disappeared.
Prof. Dumbledore saw Harry open his mouth, to speak. "I know, Harry," he interrupted. "The Ministry's looking into it. Until then.Hogwarts was once your home. Consider it your home once more."
"Thank you," Harry said.
"There is one thing you could do for me," Prof. Dumbledore interjected. "I am an old man. I have surpassed all the Professors who had taught you. I am retiring next year. However, we do need a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It would appear that the job is still 'jinxed.'"
"Of course," Harry said, grateful for a distraction.
"Just follow the course outline," Dumbledore gently told him. "It is time for the feast, however, you do remember the feast?"
How could he forgot? Nodding, Harry followed Dumbledore into the Great Hall. He looked at his fellow Professors. Indeed the staff had changed, mostly to people he didn't recognize, save a couple.
There was Neville Longbottom, sitting in Professor Sprout's old seat.
Lavender Brown in the rarely used seat of Professor Trawnely.
Draco Malfoy in the old seat of Professor Snape.
And, much to his surprise, Hermione seated in Professor McGongall's space.
She recognized him at the same time he recognized her. Both their faces turned an ashy white. Both closed their eyes, a futile attempt to ward off the memory of Ron's death. Both fought the urge to cover their ears to block off the sounds long since made.
Neither said a word to each other.
"Potter," Draco greeted, no malice behind his words.
The rest of the staff nodded their hellos.
"Hermione," Harry said, unsure of what else to say.
"Hi," she shyly said.
The feast went by, without a hitch. The recently sorted students went off to their separate dorms. Hermione went to make a quick get away. Harry stopped her, without realizing why.
"We should talk," Harry said, saying the first thing that came to mind.
"Yes," she answered, nodding. "We'll go to my office."
They walked a familiar path to Prof. McGonagall's old office. Harry almost smiled at the memories that invaded him the moment he stepped foot in the office.
All the times he and Ron had been sent there, to be punished.
"Yes, you two did get in a lot of trouble," Hermione said, smiling softly.
He must have spoken out loud. "You helped," he gently said.
"Only because if I didn't you two would have raced in, unprepared." she trailed off. That was exactly what had happened that Day.
"It wasn't your fault," Harry said.
"It wasn't your fault," Hermione said.
"Hermione, it was," Harry said. Hermione opened her mouth to disagree. He put a hand up, stopping her from speaking. "I was the one who Voldemort was after. I was the one who kept putting you two in danger. I was the one who Voldemort couldn't have hurt with his own wand. I was, maybe indirectly, the only one at fault."
They sat there for a moment, in silence. "I was the one who got Anne killed. I told myself not to get attached to anyone. And I did. And she's dead now because of it. We were only married nine months, Hermione. Nine months. She only knew me a year. And she's dead because of it."
Hermione was silent.
"What was Anne like?" Hermione asked.
"Beautiful," Harry answered, after a moment's thought. "She was only a Muggle, but she had so much insight. She was so trusting, so loving. Anne could walk into a room and make the world stop. She was unpredictable, saying she loved me one moment, the next she would be throwing a dish towards me. She would kiss me, Mione, and whisper that everything would be alright, when I woke up from a nightmare. Anne didn't ask for anything, but she gave everything.
"For her birthday I took her out to on a picnic. It started to rain. I wanted, so badly, to stop the rain for her, because she looked so disappointed for a minute. Then she laughed and started dancing in the rain, drinking the droplets that fell. Her hair was a mess, her make-up running, her clothes sticking to her body. I proposed right then. I didn't mean to, but I did. She stopped dancing and said 'what took you so long to ask?' God, I miss her."
"She sounds like she was perfect for you," Hermione said, tears in her eyes. Her childhood friend was so.empty now. He spoke of his deceased wife in a monotone voice, unable to show emotion.
"She was," Harry said. "Ron would have loved her."
"I would have loved her," Hermione said.
Harry looked up and saw a picture of the three of them, right before Ron died. Their moving picture was laughing a playing around, just like they had been in life. "I miss him. I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry Ron."
Harry set his jaw. "Hermione, I want you to stay away from me. As much as possible."
"What?!"
"Bad things happen to my best friends," Harry said. "My parents, Ron, Anne.I don't want to be responsible for your death too."
"Harry." Hermione trailed off. Harry stood up and walked out of her office.
"What are we going to do about this?" she asked the picture of the three of them.
"Don't let him be alone," picture-Ron answered. She smiled, happy that she enchanted the picture to speak, just like the portraits in the hallways.
"That's me? I'm a bloody stupid American!" picture-Harry said, unhappy.
"I love you, Ron. I miss you," Hermione said softly. It was not a known fact that Hermione and Ron had been lovers the last year of his life. "I love you Harry. I miss you."
"Is that Harry Potter?"
"I think it is! Why do you think he's here?"
"I dunno.do you?"
"Why would I ask you that, you stupid git?"
Harry sighed. Somethings would never change. No matter why they what they were whispering, he would always be on the minds and mouths of witches and wizards. He closed his eyes, hoping for a refuge from the nightmares that had been plaguing his sleep. The next thing he was aware of was the whistling of the train, signifying their arrival.
He walked to the castle, opting not to ride in the carriages with the students.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Harry Potter," Albus Dumbledore greeted Harry, hugging him with the strength of a man much younger than himself.
"Hello, Professor," Harry said. Professor Dumbledore stared into the young man's eyes and wanted to cry. The impish spark that had always, even after the mess with Diggory and the revival of Voldemort, been there had disappeared.
Prof. Dumbledore saw Harry open his mouth, to speak. "I know, Harry," he interrupted. "The Ministry's looking into it. Until then.Hogwarts was once your home. Consider it your home once more."
"Thank you," Harry said.
"There is one thing you could do for me," Prof. Dumbledore interjected. "I am an old man. I have surpassed all the Professors who had taught you. I am retiring next year. However, we do need a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It would appear that the job is still 'jinxed.'"
"Of course," Harry said, grateful for a distraction.
"Just follow the course outline," Dumbledore gently told him. "It is time for the feast, however, you do remember the feast?"
How could he forgot? Nodding, Harry followed Dumbledore into the Great Hall. He looked at his fellow Professors. Indeed the staff had changed, mostly to people he didn't recognize, save a couple.
There was Neville Longbottom, sitting in Professor Sprout's old seat.
Lavender Brown in the rarely used seat of Professor Trawnely.
Draco Malfoy in the old seat of Professor Snape.
And, much to his surprise, Hermione seated in Professor McGongall's space.
She recognized him at the same time he recognized her. Both their faces turned an ashy white. Both closed their eyes, a futile attempt to ward off the memory of Ron's death. Both fought the urge to cover their ears to block off the sounds long since made.
Neither said a word to each other.
"Potter," Draco greeted, no malice behind his words.
The rest of the staff nodded their hellos.
"Hermione," Harry said, unsure of what else to say.
"Hi," she shyly said.
The feast went by, without a hitch. The recently sorted students went off to their separate dorms. Hermione went to make a quick get away. Harry stopped her, without realizing why.
"We should talk," Harry said, saying the first thing that came to mind.
"Yes," she answered, nodding. "We'll go to my office."
They walked a familiar path to Prof. McGonagall's old office. Harry almost smiled at the memories that invaded him the moment he stepped foot in the office.
All the times he and Ron had been sent there, to be punished.
"Yes, you two did get in a lot of trouble," Hermione said, smiling softly.
He must have spoken out loud. "You helped," he gently said.
"Only because if I didn't you two would have raced in, unprepared." she trailed off. That was exactly what had happened that Day.
"It wasn't your fault," Harry said.
"It wasn't your fault," Hermione said.
"Hermione, it was," Harry said. Hermione opened her mouth to disagree. He put a hand up, stopping her from speaking. "I was the one who Voldemort was after. I was the one who kept putting you two in danger. I was the one who Voldemort couldn't have hurt with his own wand. I was, maybe indirectly, the only one at fault."
They sat there for a moment, in silence. "I was the one who got Anne killed. I told myself not to get attached to anyone. And I did. And she's dead now because of it. We were only married nine months, Hermione. Nine months. She only knew me a year. And she's dead because of it."
Hermione was silent.
"What was Anne like?" Hermione asked.
"Beautiful," Harry answered, after a moment's thought. "She was only a Muggle, but she had so much insight. She was so trusting, so loving. Anne could walk into a room and make the world stop. She was unpredictable, saying she loved me one moment, the next she would be throwing a dish towards me. She would kiss me, Mione, and whisper that everything would be alright, when I woke up from a nightmare. Anne didn't ask for anything, but she gave everything.
"For her birthday I took her out to on a picnic. It started to rain. I wanted, so badly, to stop the rain for her, because she looked so disappointed for a minute. Then she laughed and started dancing in the rain, drinking the droplets that fell. Her hair was a mess, her make-up running, her clothes sticking to her body. I proposed right then. I didn't mean to, but I did. She stopped dancing and said 'what took you so long to ask?' God, I miss her."
"She sounds like she was perfect for you," Hermione said, tears in her eyes. Her childhood friend was so.empty now. He spoke of his deceased wife in a monotone voice, unable to show emotion.
"She was," Harry said. "Ron would have loved her."
"I would have loved her," Hermione said.
Harry looked up and saw a picture of the three of them, right before Ron died. Their moving picture was laughing a playing around, just like they had been in life. "I miss him. I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry Ron."
Harry set his jaw. "Hermione, I want you to stay away from me. As much as possible."
"What?!"
"Bad things happen to my best friends," Harry said. "My parents, Ron, Anne.I don't want to be responsible for your death too."
"Harry." Hermione trailed off. Harry stood up and walked out of her office.
"What are we going to do about this?" she asked the picture of the three of them.
"Don't let him be alone," picture-Ron answered. She smiled, happy that she enchanted the picture to speak, just like the portraits in the hallways.
"That's me? I'm a bloody stupid American!" picture-Harry said, unhappy.
"I love you, Ron. I miss you," Hermione said softly. It was not a known fact that Hermione and Ron had been lovers the last year of his life. "I love you Harry. I miss you."
