Warning: Contains DH spoilers.
Chapter 4
The castle stood intimidating as always flanked by the winged boars. Harry, Hermione, and George stared. The school meant something different to each of them. Hermione treasured the knowledge. George cherished the fun. Harry was home.
Minerva McGonagall studied the three specks as they approached the castle. The trio halted at the gate.
"It's the right thing to do, Minerva," a portrait reassured her.
"Of course, Albus. But having George Weasley here for a full month before the start of term…" she trailed off.
"I believe the boy has changed due to recent events. And if not, Miss Granger is more than a match for him."
"Imagine them wanting to return to this place." The lives taken, the families ruined, and the innocence lost weighed heavily on the headmistress. "But here we are ready to go on as if nothing happened."
"You are wrong, Minerva. You are picking up the pieces. Trying to build a new life. Being in a familiar place can help the healing process. There are good memories here."
"The bad far outweigh the good. The quality overrules the quantity, Albus." Minerva turned to see how her last comment would be received.
Even in a painting the piercing blue eyes twinkled. "Perhaps you should welcome your students and explain the procedure for the summer."
Minerva huffed. She transformed into her Animagus form; a cat with spectacle markings around the eyes.
They hadn't moved. The three of them appeared to be catching their breath.
#
"I don't know how I ever let you talk me into flying on a broom with you," Hermione said. Her legs wobbled. Harry's exceptional flying not able to dispel her fear.
"Were we supposed to take the train?" Harry asked. He massaged his ribs. One might be broken.
"We could have apparated to Hogsmeade."
"Where's the fun in that?" George queried.
Hermione straightened to her full height gearing up for a telling off. Harry interceded.
"Hermione, you could have apparated. George, and I would have been good on our own."
"And," George added, "we only flew part of the way at your insistence."
"You could not have flown the entire way from London."
"Not in one go," George said.
The spat calmed Harry's nerves as did the flying. It had been too long since he'd flown for the pure joy of it. It was liberating even with Hermione crushing him.
"Good afternoon," Minerva said. They looked tired, and undernourished. The longing in their eyes almost brought her to tears. She hoped they found what they sought. She promised to aid their healing for the month she had them to herself.
"Professor," came three meek responses. They smiled tentatively at their new headmistress.
"Come along." She waved her wand. The gates swung open in welcome. "I will explain the rules." A stern nod had them falling in line.
#
"The Head Boy and Girl have their own rooms. The placement changes depending on which house you are from. Yours is connected via the Gryffindor common room. Mr. Weasley you will be placed in the seventh-year dorm."
"Professor," Harry interjected, "would it be possible for George to share my room?"
"If that is your wish for the summer, but when the official school term begins —"
"Not just the summer, but all year," insisted Harry.
McGonagall gave the pair an appraising look. She pursed her lips sponsoring a moment of unease.
"If Mr. Weasley has no objections, I do not see any complications for those accommodations."
"Thank you, Professor," George said. "Git," he murmured to Harry. The sigh spoke volumes validating Harry's request. Hermione swallowed her praise for Harry. She had suspicions involving George and new product testing on unsuspecting dormmates. If he shared Harry's room, she could keep an eye on him.
"Don't forget, Mr. Weasley, your exams are in three weeks."
"Yes, Professor." Once she was out of sight he said, "Like I could forget."
"Three weeks," Hermione commented. "I'll have to make a new schedule. We'll start tomorrow."
"What?" George clutched his chest. "You aren't going to put our noses to the grindstone this minute?"
"Oh, har har. We have to unpack, and get settled. Besides, it's a gorgeous day. We should be outside, not in the library."
"Harry," George wheezed. "If she keeps this up, I'm going to have a real heart attack." He rubbed his chest.
"Me too," Harry remarked.
Hermione's eyes rolled automatically. "One day off is all, gentlemen. We have a lot of material left to cover." She leveled a hard look at each of them in turn. George gulped, and nodded. Harry stared back uncowed. Hermione relented since Harry wasn't taking the exams.
"It was kind of McGonagall to allow us stay," she commented.
"It's because of Harry," George said.
"Me? I didn't do anything."
"Not purposefully, but I bet you the shop Hermione put it in her letter."
A blush crept from Hermione's neck to her cheeks. "Harry," she said guiltily. "I had to tell her you, and George were also interested. I framed it as a request from the Head Girl, and Boy," she added the last word in a whisper.
"Right," Harry said tightly. It annoyed him that she traded on his name, whether that had been her intention or not. The irritation came and went, because she'd used her status as well as his.
"We should redecorate," Hermione said as they entered a small sitting room. It screamed dull old man. There were two other doors, one on the left, and one on the right. They led to the bedrooms.
"I'd wager Percy was the last resident," George said. "Boring is his trademark style."
Hermione peeked into her room. Harry and George did the same with theirs. Standard Gryffindor design.
"What's the password?" Harry asked.
"Didn't pay attention," George admitted.
"We choose a portrait from the selection of past Head Boys and Girls, hang it, and set the password ourselves."
"Only three people in the whole school will know it," George crowed. He rubbed his hands together in glee. He could get comfortable with these living arrangements.
"George," Hermione barked. "No changing the password without telling us."
"I would have told one of you."
#
The lake sparkled. The grass glowed. Harry, and George absorbed the scene. Their unpacked trunks lay forgotten. Hermione disturbed their tranquil examination of the grounds.
"Lovely, isn't it?" She stopped startled by their matching grins.
"Fancy a run?" asked George.
She backed away one step at a time until she was through the doorway. She turned and bolted. The boys gave chase. Their booming laughter echoed in the empty corridors.
Harry, and George caught Hermione at the edge of the lake. A dangerous idea sprouted. George signaled Harry, who grabbed her arms as George swept up her legs.
"AH!" she shrieked. She giggled madly as they rocked her. "Put me down!"
"Okay."
"One!" they swung her over the water.
"Two!" The upswing had some height.
"Stop!" she shrilled. "Don't you dare!" Her threatened hexes were lost as they swung her in a higher arc.
"Three!"
None of them were sure what happened next. Splash! A wave of water drenched them all. Hermione was let down spluttering.
"What the?"
"Bloody hell!" were exclaimed at the same moment a cackle rang.
The surprised students traced the sound. Professor McGonagall stowed her wand. "Sorry, Miss Granger, but I couldn't resist. Do carry on." She shooed them. Another cackle floated to them as she headed to the castle.
They plopped under their favorite tree. "I have never heard her laugh like that," Hermione said. She brought out her wand.
"I've never heard her laugh," George said. "That was brilliant."
"What about us?" Harry asked as Hermione extinguished the warm air flowing from her wand. Her clothes, and hair dry.
"Pardon?" she queried.
Harry, and George spread their arms; their clothes dripped.
"Surely, you don't expect me to clean you up?"
"It's the honorable thing to do, Miss," George coaxed.
"Honorable." She snorted. "You were going to toss me in the lake."
"How dare you besmirch my character." George feigned insult. "The idea is preposterous."
Harry tried holding it in, but a gush of laughter erupted. And he could not stop. No matter what he did. One look at George, or Hermione would set him off again. It was contagious. Wiping tears from her eyes, Hermione used her wand to dry their clothes.
"Happy birthday, Harry," she whispered.
#
The month alone at Hogwarts flew by in a whirl of studying. Hermione was true to her word; George did not get another day off. Seclusion made them long for and dread the future company that would be thrust upon them.
"Hermione, quit pacing," urged Harry. The girl was driving him nuts.
"We should have gone over potions again."
"He'll be all right. He's only taking three exams."
"In two days," she moaned. "That's a lot of pressure." She wrung her hands.
"He's handling it better than you."
"So?" Hermione didn't wait for Harry's reply. "Did you make the arrangements?"
"Yes. The house elves were eager to help." Harry's trip to the kitchens was bittersweet. Memories of Dobby had overwhelmed him. Caught in a tidal wave of grief Harry forgot the purpose of his visit. The staring hadn't helped. It was unnerving. Every pair of eyes tracked his every movement.
His excursion reminded him of the conversation he had with Ron during their chess game. School was due to start in a week. His concerns and doubts were growing. He was Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. These things alone would cause him to stand out, but he was also Harry Potter. People would react to his fame, and treat him accordingly. Yes, he'd been accustomed to a certain level of notoriety, but now as Ron had said he'd gotten rid of Voldemort for good. He defeated, albeit with loads of help, the darkest wizard in recent history. His triumph boosted him to the position of number one celebrity in the wizarding world.
"Hermione?" he asked.
"Hhmm," she said distractedly.
George rushed in before he voiced his fears. "I am famished."
"You're finished?" cried Hermione.
"Famished, Hermione, not finished. Famished," he enunciated. "Would you like a dictionary?"
"Lunch," Harry blurted. "Let's go to lunch."
"And no, Hermione, I do not want to study. I want to eat."
#
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts Hermione had free time. She vigilantly avoided this circumstance, because she had no desire for introspection. Her waking hours were spent with Harry and George. She slipped effortlessly into old habits. She read. She studied. She forced the boys to pay attention. When their eyes glazed, she suggested exploring the castle, and grounds. They exhausted that avenue within a few days as George possessed expert knowledge due to the Marauders' Map.
They balked on running with her. Her solution; they flew around the Quidditch pitch while she jogged beneath them. She kept her days full, and at night she instantly fell asleep when her head touched the pillow. She trained her mind to focus solely on George and his exams. She gave no time to other thoughts.
Her distractions were gone. Her eyes roved, but saw nothing of her room. She missed Ron. Under the anger she marveled at his consideration of their shared future. It was clear to her now that she had been somewhat unreasonable about being left out of his decision-making process. And that to a certain degree she'd done the same to him. But as soon as she read the announcement, she had tried to talk to him.
A lack of communication had thrown them out of whack. She'd spent years pining after him. She'd given up hope so many times, only to have the flames rekindled with the smallest gesture. The moment they got it right, both in the same place at the same time, and on the same page. Poof! Lack of communication.
No one knew what terms they were on when Ron departed for America. It was a murky area for conversation to tread. They had experienced such horrible things in the past year. People torn from their lives unwillingly, but Ron chose to leave. He left. He left her.
If she dared to search deeper, something lurked that neither her heart, nor her mind would name. A knock on her door interrupted her dreaded introspection.
"Hermione," Harry called as he pushed the door open. His voice changed from curiosity to concern. "Hermione?"
Tear tracks glistened on her cheeks. "We broke up."
Harry hugged her hard. She buried her head in his shoulder. She released everything she'd bottled up. Words tripped, and tumbled from her lips revealing their last conversation.
"Ron?" she tentatively asked afraid he was asleep after the party.
"Mione," he whispered.
"I," her courage failed. She raced into his arms.
"Come with me," he pleaded.
"Stay with me," she begged at the same moment.
Both answered, "I can't."
Ron held her. He gently rubbed her back as her sobs replaced the quiet crying. His own tears fell into her hair.
"It hurts, Harry. Make it go away." The request sounded childish, but she didn't care.
"I wish I could, Hermione, I wish I could." He chose his words carefully knowing the two simple ones, I can't, needed to be wiped from his vocabulary.
Later they surprised George with a picnic by the lake. A brutal run around the Quidditch Pitch with Harry calmed her beyond reason. Harry plied her with excuses about getting in shape for the upcoming Quidditch season as he kept her dangerous pace.
"I really am lucky," she said. To have him as her best friend.
"You are," Harry agreed. "But so am I."
#
"Wow, I never imagined I'd be so happy to stay at school," George remarked. He shoved his O.W.L. results into Hermione's waiting hands.
"Congrats!" Harry toasted. The lively trio celebrated George's hard work in The Three Broomsticks. The hours of study in the library, the tutelage from McGonagall herself, and basically inhaling the material Hermione pulled from her brain paid off.
A huge weight lifted. George would be staying. The three forged a stronger bond; their friendship transcended the boundaries previously set. Without trying they knew what the others were thinking. When the stares seeped into Harry's consciousness, Hermione and George picked up on the tension.
"We should be going," Hermione suggested.
"Yup," George said. He drained the last of his butterbeer. "A quick stop at the other shop, and we'll head back to the castle."
The owners of Zonko's had sold their shop to Fred, and George before the twins went into hiding. George had gotten the second branch of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes up, and running after the war. The Hogsmeade store was smaller than the Diagon Alley premises, but customers could fill out a special-order form, and the products from the other shop would appear.
George enjoyed being a successful businessman, but sometimes it made him feel too old for the task ahead.
"Do you think this is stupid?"
"Not at all," Harry replied. His own concerns ranged along the same lines. Relief swept through knowing George had the same doubts.
"What?" Hermione for once missed the underlying meaning.
"Me going back to school," George clarified.
"If it had been stupid, I wouldn't have spent the last month helping you."
"You don't have doubts?" George questioned.
"I do," Harry confessed. The time had come to voice his fears. "I mean," he said as his friends stopped to look at him, "the fame and notoriety is on a grander scale now. I can only imagine what people will do."
"I've thought about that, Harry," Hermione confided, "and you should ignore them."
"Yes, all those girls asking for your autograph, ripping your clothes off as well as their own. Mmmhmmm, ignore them."
Harry chuckled. Hermione giggled.
"It'll be all right, Harry. You'll see," Hermione said.
"I hope you're right."
"I usually am."
Cheeky, aren't we?" noted George.
#
The last days of solitude were approaching an end. Professor McGonagall no longer made daily trips to Hogsmeade. The open teaching positions were filled. The professors moved into their rooms, and arranged their classrooms in preparation for the upcoming term.
Hagrid returned from France. His holiday with Madam Maxime put a bounce in his step, and a secret grin on his face. Tiny Professor Flitwick squeaked about the castle boosting Hermione's confidence. He claimed it an honor to have her return.
Meals were no longer private affairs. Hermione as Head Girl felt it her duty to join the professors in the dining hall. It would be the epitome of rudeness if they ignored them. She expected Harry as Head Boy to share her opinion.
"Term hasn't officially started yet, and she's ready to lick…"
"Do not finish that sentence," ordered Hermione. She swept into their common room. "I am armed." She displayed her wand.
The challenge was unmistakable in George's eyes. An answering spark blazed in her own as she intricately wove a silent spell.
George smirked when nothing happened. Harry held a fist to his mouth to stifle the sound trying to escape.
"What?" George asked in a panicky voice.
"I did warn him," Hermione said skipping out of the room. "Come along," she sang.
"Accio mirror," called Harry. He caught the flying object as it zoomed in. He handed it to George.
"Hermione!" he shouted. His hair was streaked with green and silver.
#
George found her in the Great Hall seated beside the Head Mistress. The house tables had been pushed against the walls and a single table stood in the middle of the room. George fluffed his hair and sat next to Harry.
"Lovely example of school spirit, Mr. Weasley," the headmistress said. She coughed smothering her cackle.
George glared at Hermione then graciously accepted the compliment. "Thank you."
The returning teachers chatted with the three students, a bright look of pride in their eyes. The new professors were vexed with their colleagues. They were treating the Harry Potter like an ordinary student. For the first time since accepting their positions they were faced with the challenge of preferring one student over another.
"Two new professors," Hermione said. "I thought there needed to be more than Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." She paused mulling the list of classes. The silence stretched. "Ah, Muggle Studies. I forgot he's new as well."
Harry shook his head. It was starting already. Joke as they might Harry was in for it when school began. He focused his worries on the students, but after dinner he realized he should have included the staff too.
"Did you notice the new D.A.D.A. teacher?"
"What about Professor Warner, George?" Hermione prompted.
"She was practically drooling over Harry."
"She and Professor Jones were acting a bit odd. I expected it from Professor Slughorn, but not the new teachers. They are professionals." She scoffed.
"Maybe I should go."
"Go where?" For all her confidence Hermione was thrilled to have Harry with her. Facing this new year was so much easier with him by her side.
"I hate the attention. What sort of normalcy am I going to have when professors are…?" He searched for an apt description.
"Wetting their pants in your presence," supplied George.
"Exactly."
"Everyone will get over it once they see you in class, and you get your first detention."
Hermione's words caught Harry off guard. "Hermione."
"How is he ever going to get detention if the professors think him a high mucky muck?" A whole new rush of possibilities presented themselves.
Hermione, and Harry noticed the light in his eyes. They released twin sighs at the mischievous grin. An entertaining year was an understatement.
The portrait of Lily and James waited for the password.
"Animagus," Hermione offered. She ignored George for the time being. "At least here things can be controlled, Harry. If we were out there," she gestured indicating the world beyond Hogwarts's borders, "it would be worse." She was surprised they hadn't been mobbed on an excursion to Hogsmeade.
Hermione made a fair point, but something else ate away at Harry. Images from the Final Battle haunted his dreams, but now they filtered into his waking hours. Flashes popped in his mind as he crossed a corridor, or walked into a room.
Hermione had an inkling of his predicament. During a rough night as he tossed and turned tangled in his sheet, his door opened. The soft pad of feet had him reaching for his wand. The gentle pressure and familiar voice told him there was no danger.
"Harry," she whispered. "I heard you calling."
"I didn't…" he began to protest.
"You did." She touched her forehead. "I heard you." She crawled into bed beside him. "It upsets me too. I see things, but we have to push through. Now shush." A swish of her wand muffled George's snoring. She snuggled closer to Harry, and fell asleep.
The warmth of her body, and the rhythm of her breathing lulled him. He clung to the hope that once students filled the empty castle the memories would be driven away.
#
The start of term feast was about to begin. Harry was frantic. This scheme of coming back was complete and utter nonsense. What was he thinking? What were any of them thinking?
He paced the area in front of his bed. Too small. He went into the common room. Engrossed in a game of exploding snap neither George, nor Hermione registered Harry's entrance.
"I'm going for a walk," he declared.
The abrupt declaration startled the pair of card players. They looked up to catch a blur of movement.
"Think he's all right?" George asked.
"Not sure."
"After you," he said motioning her out.
Harry let his feet choose the destination. The castle was full of memories. A roll of film began in his head. A troll, a petrified ghost, Sirius locked in an office, Dumbledore falling. Tonks, Remus, and Colin laid out in the Great Hall. Mrs. Weasley lying across Fred's chest, her body shaking.
The pictures drove him father into the castle. Corridor after corridor. Pain ripped through him. A few months of peace not able to relieve the agony of losing his friends and family.
He stopped. His breathing ragged. His heart thundering. He paced back and forth, back and forth in the deserted corridor. His heart shrieking its hidden desire.
He couldn't change it, couldn't bring anyone back. But time, if he had more time. It was all he ever wanted. More time with those he loved. Just more time.
A faint pop drew his attention to a door. The room of requirement waited. Without thinking his hand moved to the handle.
He closed his eyes hoping against the odds that somehow, they would be inside the room. His friends. His family. The ones he missed the most.
He opened his eyes. The room was small, and empty except for his trunk. Nothing else. No pictures adorned the walls, no furniture. Just nothing.
George and Hermione entered. Two more pops and their trunks plunked down beside his. Hermione shut the door. Wind tore through the room. Their clothes danced clinging to their bodies. Cushions appeared as they fell unconscious.
