Chapter 24 –
Reliving the Lost Years
Harry tripped clumsily from the fireplace, only just managing to right his footing before skidding to a sharp halt. Ash and dust clung to his clothes and hair, drifting around him like black snow. He brushed himself of as Hermione stepped confidently from the emerald flames, flicking a tiny speck of soot from her arm. She caught Harry looking at her strangely and said, "What?"
"Nothing." He answered a little miffed that he would never get the hang of Flooing. He looked around at the familiar setting of the Three Broomsticks, the sight sending warm shivers down his spine. He could see the small table at the back where he, Hermione and Ron used to sit on their Hogsmeade visits; the memory brought a smile to his lips.
"Are you coming?" Hermione asked him from the doorway, holding it open slightly so a light wind blew the bell. He scanned the room again as he walked towards her. Not many people were in there that day, only around four, with the barman watching them curiously as they walked out onto the street. From the doorway of the old bar, he could see all the familiar shops; Zonko's Joke Shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, shut for the day, and much more. He found himself remembering all the times he had walked this small street; in his third year taunting Malfoy, fourth year beneath the Invisibility Cloak, fifth with the Quibbler article and meeting the DA, sixth year...
Sixth year and the attack.
It had been a surprise attack, happening fast and stealthily just as night was breaking. Many of the villagers had been just returning home, enjoying the warm spring air, taking their time. The Death Eaters had been merciless and killed all that stood in their way. When the alarm had sounded and Hogwarts been alerted to the siege, Harry was swift to get his Defense Group.
They had trained hard all year, working on advanced spells for just an occasion like that one. They had been first on the scene, the headmaster and professors not even knowing of their exit of the school. But if it hadn't been for the students, Hogsmeade would have been completely lost; raised to the ground.
Many innocent witches and wizards had been lost in the battle. They had been unprepared for such a large attack and so close to the school, that many died while trying to return to their homes. Only a quarter of the villagers fought back, dueling side by side with the Hogwarts students and professors. The battle had raged for almost an hour before back-up arrived from the Ministry. But it had been too late for most, as the Aurors discovered when they appeared on the streets.
Bodies. Bodies were everywhere. Bodies of the Death Eaters, masked and motionless. Bodies of the villagers, eyes cold and staring, faces framing fear. Bodies of the students, still in their school robes, red, yellow and blue. It didn't matter what house they had been in, they died united after fighting together.
Harry could remember standing in the middle of the street, the remaining Death Eaters having Disapparated away at their master's command. He could remember seeing the streets littered with the unmoving bodies, it didn't matter who they were; they were dead. He could still see the frozen faces of his friends, staring at the battleground strewn with the lifeless forms.
And he had walked between each dark shape, kneeling to recognize their faces. Only three students had died; one from each Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. It had been a torturous job walking through the bodies, not knowing who he would find staring coldly back up at him. He had struggled not to weep, as so many others had done. They had cried for their families, lying dead on the street; cried for their homes, destroyed in the battle. They had just cried.
Now, as he walked down the street, he caught himself recognizing the places were the bodies had lain. His smile vanished. This had been another reason for his leaving. The place had so many memories. Too many. They overwhelmed him now, after over five years. Seeing Hogsmeade stirred feelings inside him, sadness, guilt and longing for the old days. The town was recovering, slowly and surely. But the scar from the Hogsmeade Battle would never fade. It would remain there as a reminder for what was lost, and who was lost in the Second War.
He passed Dervish and Banges as he wandered with Hermione along the middle of the street. She kept looking up at him, a concerned look in her eyes. As they approached the winding road leading to the great castle, Harry found his hand encased in Hermione's. He squeezed it in appreciation.
His heart was beating an ugly tattoo on the inside of his throat, and he swallowed the impulse to flee. He had come too far to run again, and he wouldn't leave after seeing all this again, after so many years. As they walked along the dirty path, Harry remembered the many times he had traveled in one of the Thestral-drawn carriages, startled and scared the first time he had been able to see the scaly, winged creatures. After the Second War, many were able to see the Thestrals. And each time they did, they remembered why they were able to see them.
They finally climbed over a slight hill, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He had forgotten how majestic the place was. Nestled deep within the valleys, and rising high to the sky above. He remembered.
The great castle sat beside a massive forest, dark and full of mystery. The trees could be heard whispering on the wind, their branches swaying as if in an ancient dance. The great lake rested calmly beside them both, its waters dark and deep, with ripples coursing across the surface in the gentle wind. The lawns rolled about in emerald hills and smooth slopes, all covered in a soft green grass. The grounds of Hogwarts had been severely damaged when the Dark army struck. Much had been burned in the fire that had ravaged the forest. The rest had been stained by crimson blood.
It was good to see that it had recovered, though the Whomping Willow, once tall and fierce, sat drooped and dwindled. It had been savagely attacked by the flames, its flailing limbs charred beyond recognition and its bark stripped as if it had been paper. It now sat with a haunted stoop, only half its original size and containing much less life.
The tall, bronze gates suddenly loomed in front of them, a pair of winged boars guarding atop their towers of stone. They opened wide at their approach, a loud screech sounding causing the hairs on Harry's arms to stand on end. He could feel Hermione's hand in his own and he took a deep breath, before steeping forward.
He saw it.
Hogwarts in all its ancient glory. It climbed high above the forest and hills, the many turrets and towers stretching like stony fingers for the sun. The many stones of the walls were now speckled with age and weather, but they still stood strong and indestructible. It was so large, spreading across the grounds, casting a shadow dark and looming. Even after spending seven years inside its rising walls, Harry was mesmerized.
The many enchantments could be felt tingling his skin, a feeling he had never felt before. It rippled through his body like the wrinkles on the waters of the lake, cascading into his very being, dribbling into his soul. He felt more revitalized than he had in over seven years, since the beginning of his sixth year. He felt alive.
He and Hermione walked down the path together, both their eyes locked on the familiar castle before them. But as they approached, Harry felt emotion tug at his heart. What would Hogwarts be like without its true headmaster? Albus Dumbledore.
It didn't seem real that the wise old man that once brought magic to the school, was alive no more. The castle seemed darker as these thoughts wove through his mind, and his steps slowed. He let his eyes wander across the grounds, feeling his heart beat painfully against his ribcage.
With places, memories came.
At the edge of the path, beside a bare patch of earth, once housing a thriving rose bush.
Harry looked over his shoulder, and watched as a green light hit an unsuspecting second year. The girls face froze in fearful youth, before she crumbled into the garden, the thorns cutting into her flesh...
At the side of the great lake.
A scream cut through the air as a vampire descended upon a seventh year, the boy's wand dropping uselessly to the rocky shore. The blood-sucking fiend, finished with its prey, flung the lifeless body into the dark depths. The water turned ruby...
And in the middle of the grounds, an equal distance between the forest and the lake.
It seemed as if time had stopped when Albus Dumbledore took the curse intended for Harry. He watched with a horror-filled gaze as the old man's back slowly bent, his wand dropping to the blood-stained grass, and the twinkle that had burned for over a century, was extinguished for the last time...
An overwhelming sense of dread enveloped him, and his footsteps faltered and finally stopped. Hermione looked up at him with confusion, before sudden comprehension dawned on her attractive face. Her hands clasped at his own, squeezing, trying to get a response. But Harry was in another world, another time...
His eyes were locked on the bare patch of grass, not seeing the swaying blades, but the lifeless form of Albus Dumbledore. The sky rocked above his head, and the ground sunk and rose beneath his feet as if it was a green ocean, and the waves crashed continuously upon his broken body. He tried to rise out of the impending darkness, tried to grasp Hermione's hands and see her concerned face. But the images slipped from his fingers as if they were sand.
He found himself before Voldemort, the monster's red eyes glowing in triumph as he looked upon the lifeless body of the Hogwarts Headmaster...
Hermione stood in front of him, her lips moving in silent speech...
Voldemort lifted his wand, a smile growing on his lipless mouth...
He felt pressure on his hands, but couldn't look down to see them...
Harry looked down to see his headmasters eyes staring blankly up at him, the smile never truly dying from his face...
Dumbledore was standing in front of him in the bathroom, holding out his hand with a sherbet lemon sitting softly in his palm. Harry reached out and took it...
"Harry? Harry? Can you hear me?" came Hermione's distressed voice, her face mere inches from his own. Harry shook his head, ridding it of the bad memories.
"Hermione?" he said in slight confusion.
"Oh, thank god, I thought I'd lost you again." she said, smiling in relief.
"Sorry...you almost did." Harry answered, looking back down at the ground below his feet. Hermione followed his gaze and sighed, stepping forward to wrap him in a tight, reassuring hug.
"It does not do to dwell in dreams in forget to live." She murmured in his ear. Harry nodded, the words sounding some-what familiar.
"It's just too hard to forget, Hermione. You should be thankful you weren't here when it happened... it was terrible, like Voldemort had won. I almost gave up hope." He murmured, his green eyes glazed. Hermione had never heard of him speak of his final battle with Voldemort, or Albus Dumbledore's death. He had always skimmed over the details, as if he was explaining it from another perspective. But this...
"Why didn't you?" she whispered, clutching at his hands as if he would run away any second. He turned his haunted gaze to her eyes and smile faintly; a smile of hope.
"My friends." He said almost as quietly as she had spoken. Hermione felt her heart warm at his words. "I knew that you were in the castle, awaiting news that the war was over. I knew that if I died, so would everyone else. I knew I couldn't let you die so I fought back. And it was lucky I did..." he said with a smile while Hermione nodded, tears sparkling in her eyes.
Harry wiped away a single tear that had been tickling at the corner of his eye, and he sniffed away the emotions. "C'mon, we better go up." He said, taking her hand and leading her away. As they reached the path, he gave one last desperate look at the lonely spot of grass, before turning and walking up the front steps.
They knocked three times, and after no call to enter, they pushed open the grand oak doors. The magnificent Entrance Hall welcomed them, complete with the high vaulted ceiling, marble columns and the sweeping staircase leading to the upper castle. Both Hermione and Harry paused to admire the room and the thoughts that came with it.
They walked out of the room through another pair of tall, double doors, to meet the familiar sight of the Great Hall. The four long tables still sat silently in the middle of the room, each with its own title: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Harry walked ahead of Hermione, down the side of the Gryffindor Table, trailing his fingers over the chipped and aged wood. At a certain spot in the table, Harry swung his legs over the bench and sat down. Hermione joined him at his side, both remaining silent.
This was where they had sat while taking meals at school. The three of them, Harry, Hermione and Ron. They had been the unbreakable trio, who would have known how they had turned out. After a while, they grew restless, their minds yearning for more familiar sights to feed them. Hermione seemed less exited than Harry, who couldn't wait to see the Gryffindor Common Room, the Quidditch Pitch, the Room of Requirements, the kitchen and even...the headmaster's office.
But just as they left the Great Hall, an old yet familiar voice called out to them. "Oh, my lucky stars! Mr. Potter, Ms Granger!" Harry whipped around, his face breaking into a broad grin.
"Professor McGonagall!" he called, opening his arms for a tight, motherly embrace with the older woman. When she pulled away, tears were sparkling in her intelligent eyes.
"You do not know how glad I am to see you again, Harry." She said, hugging him tightly again before turning to Hermione. They shared a long hug, both weeping in joy.
"Likewise, Professor." He said with a large grin, happiness sweeping through his body at the face of his old teacher. She turned to him sharply, the old stern look reappearing in her eyes.
"I am no longer your teacher, Harry. I am now your colleague; call me Minerva as I told you at your birthday." She said with a smile, walking forward to clutch both of their hands.
"Thank you, Minerva." He said, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. The old woman beamed.
"I was afraid you couldn't make it," she said, looking between the two with shining eyes.
"We had a few –ahh – stops to make, Minerva." Hermione said with a sly glance to Harry who had looked away down a long hallway.
"Oh, I see." The witch said with a faint frown, gazing at the dark haired man with a concerned gaze. Harry Potter had always had a soft spot in her heart, ever since she had seen him off at the Dursley's all those years ago. He reminded her of her own son, who had died in the first war. When she had first heard of the prophecy from Albus – god bless his soul – she had cried for hours at the thought of losing another of her kin. After the defeat of Voldemort, she had been so proud of her boy but also pained to see him leave so abruptly.
But now, after five years without seeing him, he was finally returned. But he was no longer the young boy she had remembered. He was now a tall, strong, handsome man; the only sign of his nightmarish past being the lightning bolt scar on his forehead and the haunted look in his emerald eyes that would never fade. He had seen too much for a boy – no man – his age, and it was remarkable he had turned out so well.
"Shall we proceed to your living quarters, then?" she said, her voice cracking. "Maybe then we can talk some more?" Harry and Hermione nodded happily, Harry still a little distracted as they walked side-by-side with their old professor. The teacher's quarters were one of the places Harry had never ventured, in all his years at Hogwarts. Even after all his adventures, he never knew where they were.
As they entered the second floor, the headmistress led them along a corridor full of old portraits that sat quietly in their frames, viewing the threesome as they wandered by. A couple called out at Harry.
"You there! I've seen you here before!"
"You're Harry Potter!"
"A well fought battle, young sir."
Soon, they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor, with the Transfiguration one floor above. They entered the office, Harry looking around at the drab settings.
"Who has had the Defense position the last few years?" he asked, remembering that his last Defense Teacher had died in the battle.
"Different people every year. Even after you finished school, it seemed that this 'curse' has continued working, determined to rid every Defense Professor after only a year of teaching. Let's hope the curse is broken with you, shall we?" Minerva said, strolling purposefully over to a portrait reaching to the floor, depicting a battle scene between a hippogriff and a dragon. The details were incredible, and Harry briefly wondered if the portrait had always been there.
As if hearing his thoughts, Minerva answered. "The portal to the Teacher's quarters changes every year in case a student finds a way in, even though they are password protected." She said, stretching out a hand to the hippogriff. When her finger touched it, it turned towards them with a fiery gaze.
"Password?" it said in a deep voice.
"Harry Potter." The headmistress said, turning to the two gaping ex-students with a smile as the portrait swung open. "You can change it when you get settled in. Just stroke the dragon's back twice." Harry nodded, and followed her in nervously, Hermione close behind.
The teacher's quarters were nothing like he expected. The room was long and rectangular, decorated in all four of the house colors. A king-sized bed sat along one of the shorter walls, the comforter a bright white with four pillows; one in red and gold, another in silver and green, the next in blue and bronze, and the last yellow and black. The floor was carpeted in a thick, dark brown, which was incredibly soft. A fireplace was positioned in the middle of a long wall, the grate empty apart from a few new wooden logs.
A corner desk sat in the closest corner, each side stretching three meters along the wall. A bookcase covered half of another wall, the shelves stacked with Defense Books, old and new.
"Through that door is the bathroom," Minerva said, pointing to a door beside the bookcase, "And that is your walk in closet." She motioned to another door on the right of the bed. She turned to Harry who was staring nonplussed at the room. "What do you think?"
Harry looked around in awe, not believing what he saw. "It's great. I never knew teachers lived in such luxury!" he said with a shake of his head. The headmistress chuckled and walked over to the fireplace and removed something from the mantle.
"This is the Floo Powder. You can travel to any one of the other offices, as long as you have permission. For my office, you will need me to invite you in. I'm sure you haven't forgotten how to work it?" she said with a smile, her face wrinkling with a smile. Harry grinned and shook his head, as Hermione joined the old woman at the fireplace. An emerald fire jumped into the grate soon after and the three of them Flooed up to the next floor, into the Transfiguration Teacher's office.
McGonagall walked over to a bookcase, reaching up to remove a book on the first shelf, two spaces from the end. On the cover of the book sat a wizard's face. It blinked up at the headmistress. "Password?" is barked in a gruff voice.
"Hermione Granger." She said. The face nodded, and once the book was returned to its respected place, the whole bookcase swung forward, revealing a portal hole. The three of them entered to find Hermione's quarters much the same as Harry's, except the other way around. Hermione immediately went to the bookcase, her eyes alight in excitement.
"If you are in here when someone knocks on your office door, you will hear the knocking quite clearly. Or if someone has Floo Called you in your office, it will be directed to your fireplace in here. Any questions?" she said, looking at Harry.
"Umm ... do we get a class schedule and a list of the things we have to teach?" he asked.
"Yes, I will arrange for your class schedule to come in the next few days, as I have to arrange all the classes. You will get a list of suggestions that you may teach, but you do not necessarily have to go by the list. If you have a subject you wish to teach and it s not on the list, just run it by me so I know if it is appropriate or not." Minerva said with a smile and nod, as Hermione gasped when she found a book she hadn't read yet. "Any more questions?"
"Yeah, when's lunch?"
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"So you have lived in London all this time?" Minerva asked him as they sat at the teacher's table in the Great hall. The house-elves had made them each a special meal, Harry's being fish and chips with tomato sauce.
Harry answered after swallowing a mouthful of food. "Yes, all five years. It was OK, and I made a few friends." He thought of Dave and his chest constricted painfully.
"And you have been in France?" McGonagall continued, looking to Hermione who was watching Harry carefully.
"Yes, in Lyon. It's quite a lovely place, especially in spring. Have you been?" Hermione said, finally looking from Harry.
"No, but I went to Beauxbatons many years ago, the palace is quite nice."
"I know, but not as good as Hogwarts." Hermione said with a smile, looking around the hall with adoration. Harry nodded quickly, smiling as thoughts of the great school swam through his mind.
"Hogwarts is home, not matter what happens." Of course he was referring to the Battle and Dumbledore's death, and both women knew it. They sat in their own thoughts for a while, their food sitting untouched. A sniff from Minerva drew Harry's attention, and he found her wiping away a few tears.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean –" he tried but she shushed him with a wave of her hand.
"Nonsense. I'm OK; it's just having you back after so long is reminding of him. He would be so proud of you, Harry." McGonagall said, smiling at him with a broken heart. Harry felt his heart flop uncomfortably and a lump rose unbidden in his throat. He reached out and clasped her hand in his.
"I know." He whispered softly.
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An Order Meeting had been called for that night. Harry and Hermione had spent all day at Hogwarts, exploring the old castle and the places they used to go. They had spent a good couple of hours in the Gryffindor Common room before McGonagall had taken them around to see all the others.
Harry had smirked when they entered the Slytherin Common Room, and he and Hermione shared a secret smile. Even though Hermione had not been with Harry and Ron when they had taken Polyjuice Potion to become Crabbe and Goyle, they had told her of the Slytherin whereabouts.
They were now sitting in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, waiting for the arrival of the Weasley's and a few other members. Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape sat at the far end of the room, talking in half-shadows. Harry had been watching them from the corner of his eye while appearing to be listening to Tonks. They would occasionally lean forward and whisper something into the others ear, their faces dark and expressionless.
Harry had been startled the first time he had heard of Draco Malfoy's transformation in their seventh year. He had turned spy for the Order while acting as the loyal Death Eater by the Dark Lord's side. He had been relaying information to them for months before the Hogwarts battle, and he had been the main reason they had been partially prepared for the attack. They knew there was going to be one but not the exact day of the attack.
He and Snape had been their spies for many years, with their identities remaining hidden to the other Death Eaters and the new Dark Lord. Harry had always thought that Draco Malfoy was a coward, only following his father for the power and wealth. He had always acted the arrogant rich boy, hating all muggle-borns and half-bloods because of their parentage.
He still acted as if he was better than everyone else was, but he had changed greatly from their school days. He carried a haunted look in his grey eyes, and many battle scars lay scattered across his body from the many tortures given by his 'master'. Harry was impressed that he had survived this long and proved to everyone that he was not like his father.
Harry respected him in a sense, even though he still hated him with a passion.
Footsteps were heard on the stairs and the many redheads of the Weasley's appeared, staying silent as they found seats around the table. Ginny sat down beside Harry, kissing him lightly on the cheek. Harry glanced over at Malfoy whose cold eyes were on him. The two stared at each other for a long moment, both they gazes blank.
"This is the first Order Meeting for a while, so we have a lot to discuss." Arthur Weasley said with a sigh. "The attacks have gotten worse. They're all over Britain now; there was another one last week in Kent, eight muggles were killed. The Dark Lord is getting stronger and more confident. He isn't afraid to show how much power he has anymore. People are getting scared. The Ministry is in disarray, especially the Auror Division and Law Enforcement Department. There have been so many raids and too many deaths in their ranks. There have been eleven in the last month, many of which had been friends of ours." Mr. Weasley bowed his head and sighed, when he looked up, he looked at Harry. "There has been no other indication that he wants Harry, apart from the random attack in London. Maybe you can give us more information, Draco?"
Malfoy slowly stood, his face coming into the light. He looked tired; bags hung beneath his eyes and his face looked pinched and drawn. It was a few minutes before he spoke. "The Dark Lord and Bellatrix have been making plans together in between the attacks. I have only been told that it involves Potter and some new information they have come across in the last few weeks. He seems very excited, hence the outbreak of attacks."
"And you know nothing else about this 'new information' he has about Harry?" Bill Weasley asked wearily. Draco shook his head slightly.
"No, but it is only a matter of time before I am allowed such information. He still suspects a spy in our ranks and is torturing us on a regular basis. He thinks it will reduce the chance of someone speaking or relaying information to someone other than who's in our ranks. I have tried to talk to Bellatrix, but she remains silent. I think she is the one who found this information, because she disappears for days at a time with Wormtail." Draco said as Harry took a quick intake of breath which didn't go unnoticed.
"He's still alive is he? Worthless waste of air..." he seethed, glaring angrily at the table.
"Yes, Wormtail is alive. He remains with us because he is too scared to leave. He is a coward, always sniveling up to Bellatrix or me. The Dark lord only keeps him around because of his 'talents' and he is a good way to vent his anger. I don't know how he was a Gryffindor." Draco said to Harry with a slight curve of his lips.
"Anything else, Draco?" Arthur asked with a sigh.
"Yes. There are plans to attack Diagon Alley in three weeks time, on the sixth. I managed to stop him attacking when all the new students would be doing their school shopping, by saying that was a time when the protection was greater and it would be harder for him to attack." Draco said with a nod before sitting back down. Mr. Weasley sighed, long and hard.
"Very well, I will tell the Aurors and Law Enforcers to patrol the streets for that week and remain prepared for an attack. Thank you, Draco; your words will help us greatly." Mr. Weasley said with a thankful nod directed at the pale-haired man who nodded in return. Arthur's eyes landed on Harry again and his eyes grew troubled. "We don't know what he wants with you, Harry. It seems strange that the only two Dark Lords we've had in less than twenty years have been intent on you. I'm not too sure what makes them drawn to you, but it's their problem, because they should know how strong you are."
"Maybe that's why they try to kill him off early," Ron said quietly. "They feel threatened by him so much they just want to get him out of the way before they do anything else." Many heads nodded in agreement, while Harry groaned in frustration.
"I didn't ask to have a huge sign hanging from my neck yelling 'DARK LORD KILLER'. I just wanted to be normal!" he said angrily, digging at a scratch in the table.
"And I didn't want to have a sign on my neck saying 'LUCIUS MALFOY'S SON', either." Draco said with a dark smile. "We don't always get what we want." Harry looked at him blankly, wondering why he suddenly felt a sense of familiarity with his old school enemy.
"Well we should." Harry grumbled, hating how so many things changed and so many refused to stay the same.
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Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter and never will.
Hey.
So, here's this chapter, a little shorter than the last, but still long. I added a few more things about the Final Battle and other things. And I added that bit at the end, with Draco being a little civilized because I thought he would change after all those years. There will be a little more on it next chapter.
The next chapter will be Harry's first class, hehe, which should be fun! He will meet a few people who will test him, and a few who is familiar with.
I hope you liked this chapter, I wrote it yesterday and today, sigh...hard work. I will start to write the next chapter of Behind the Eyes of the Hero in a minute after I get something to eat.
Please review and all that and thanks to those who have so far!
Later Days...
DW