This is the penultimate chapter. Thank you for reading with me.
In which a castle falls apart.
VI. 2010
Four students. Four first years—a Ravenclaw and three Hufflepuffs. Sarah is the Ravenclaw. She is the only one who survived.
When Sarah wakes up in the Hospital Wing with only one leg, to simply be told that somehow the staircase they were walking on broke in half, killing the three Hufflepuffs she was with and crushing her left leg beyond repair – because potions can only do so much – it takes all of her effort to not scream. This isn't supposed to be what Hogwarts is about. Hogwarts is supposed to be safe now. Now that Harry Potter got rid of You-Know-Who, Hogwarts shouldn't have stairs breaking and people dying anymore. Madam Pomfrey has to coax the girl a sleeping potion to try to calm her mournful hysteria.
But the stairs are breaking. The grand staircases—that beautiful marble that has for generations upon generations moved so gracefully from landing to landing, transporting students up and down the castle without even a hint of its age—have broken. They have shattered. The sound was enormous. The Ravenclaw girl was lucky enough to be on the far side of the flight of stairs so that only her leg was crushed. The three Hufflepuff girls were not as lucky. The entire stairwell collapsed. Seven floors of marble. Thank Merlin there were only those four students on the stairs at the time.
What would they have done if it had been a passing period?
When they try to figure out who the culprit was, they call in the aurors to no avail. The aurors cannot find any evidence of foul play. One of them (he is originally from the Continent, so his ignorance can partially be forgiven) even has the audacity to suggest that "they were pretty old, Ma'am," and that maybe they should have replaced the stairs sooner.
Needless to say, the other aurors quickly straighten him out.
But since there suddenly is a lack of stairs in the castle, they seek the help of magical architects. A junior professor mentions that "Living Stone Architecture" is rumoured to be the best magical masonry in the country. She mentions that there is a pretty impressive secrecy contract involved with it, though, to keep the owners privacy, but that it is worth it. Since Hogwarts certainly deserves the best, they send out the junior professor—the new Divination professor, who keeps speaking about strange creatures but gets along very well with Hagrid (but weren't all Divination professors a bit eccentric?)—to see about obtaining an estimate.
They also hope that this company might be willing to take a look at the castle and see if there are other aspects that can be improved to prevent another tragic accident—if it isn't sabotage after all.
The junior professor returns and says that the owners decided that their privacy contract wouldn't really work very well in this situation considering that the students couldn't sign it and they would undoubtedly be seen. The teachers realise this is correct, and one begins to bewail loudly about how Hogwarts is going to have to resign themselves to hire "Archie's Arches" for the repairs. So when the junior professor announces that the owner will visit "maybe tomorrow," all of the staff release a breath that they did not realise they were holding. And then she says that they request that the Headmistress inform the students tonight about leaving the workers alone so that they will not get mobbed.
"Who are these people?" the Headmistress asks. "Should I be expecting Harry Potter himself?"
When the junior professor does not laugh, the Headmistress realises that the Boy-Who-Lived had made quite an unexpected career change.
"Well then, I suppose that certainly explains the secrecy contract. He always wanted his privacy," the Headmistress says. "I'll tell them tonight. How many workers should we expect?"
"Oh, there's only two of them," the junior professor says.
Shrugging, the professors carry on. It is exciting that Harry Potter himself will be coming to fix the castle. Besides, their work has been doubled as they have to both deal with traumatised children and determine how to organise alternative routes to classrooms that are not completely destroyed. Maybe after the stairs are fixed they can put this all behind them so everyone can move on.
"Maybe tomorrow" arrives, and the morning heralds the arrival of Harry Potter and his companion. When the students catch a glimpse of the workers, it is only due to the strict warning they had received at dinner the night before that keeps them from stampeding, both away from and towards the two visitors.
To the bewilderment of the Headmistress, it isn't Ron Weasley at Harry Potter's side, but rather Draco Malfoy. She faintly recalls that Draco Malfoy is in fact Harry's good friend—that Harry was even Draco's best man—but she is afraid that she hadn't kept in contact with the once-favoured student, so she cannot tell you who they had married. To continue her confusion, the two men do not stop to greet the professors, but instead walk directly into the ruins of what remains of the staircases.
She assumes that they are more concerned for the welfare of the students than pleasantries, so she lets them go about their day.
Draco Malfoy kneels among the marble dust and traces his wand along the edge of one of the larger pieces before clearing two edges of the stairwell. He walks along the edges, dragging his wand along the stone walls. Parchment and quill hover over his shoulder, copying his every word. Harry Potter seems almost bored as he looks up through the now empty vaulted ceiling of the stairwell. He also has a trailing spelled quill; but his attentions are focused on the height and the many openings that surround the vast chasm.
"Twenty-eight," Harry Potter says before turning to face the man that is crouched in a corner.
"Hmm?" Draco Malfoy says.
"Twenty-eight," he repeats. "There's twenty-eight openings. There're seven floors, and twenty-eight openings. That's four openings on each floor, not including this one, which means that we need at the bare minimum a set of stairs that will give 29 different options. Twenty-eight openings, and one for the ground floor. Pay attention for once, will you?"
"I'm trying to measure these angles, you git. If I don't get these perfect then the whole bloody twenty-eight stories won't matter."
"I gave you plenty of time. How long does it take to measure four walls and four angles?"
"Longer than what you think. The floor is uneven, and these aren't even perpendicular. The walls are sagging in. Everything's acute. The top is narrower than the bottom," Draco Malfoy says as he shifted from the corner to individual stones on the floor.
"So it's a frustum?"
"Exactly. A pyramid with the top cut off," he says. Draco sighs, pushing his hair back. "Go say hi to the professors or something, just let me finish up in here before we start talking about design," he says before turning back to the floor stones with a clearly false vigour.
"Alright," Harry Potter says. "Come find me when you're done."
Draco Malfoy grunts his acknowledgement and so Harry Potter walks out of the stairwell after checking the time. It is halfway through the first morning class, so he decides to wait out in the staff lounge, which is thankfully on the ground level. He doesn't want to bother finding the alternative route. He opens the door after letting the magic recognise him and permit his entrance, and steps inside.
It is mostly empty, except for the junior professor of Divination, who is sitting on a table, swinging her legs. She smiles at him.
"How's the family business?"
He rolls his eyes, but smiles. "Hi, Luna. It's pretty good. One more year left before he leaves me for bigger and better things."
"I'm sure he's not going to go just because his parole is over. You're friends now," Luna says.
"I know," he says. "But he's getting a lot of attention from the competitors who still think that we're not really friends."
"He's not going to go," she says assuredly. "But anyways, I've heard from my dearest friends that you two have been developing a unique method of building that actually mimics the work of the founders. That sort of magic is impossible unless the two of you were friends."
Harry looks up sharply. "Who told you that? No is supposed to know—we haven't told anyone!"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you who told me to tell you I knew," she says with a peaceful smile.
Harry sighs. "So you saw?"
"In a manner of speaking," she says.
He closes his eyes. "Merlin, you almost gave me a panic attack. I couldn't handle that getting into the hands of our competitors—"
"What's getting into the hands of our competitors?"
"Oh, hello!" she says. "He doesn't want the fact that you discovered how the founders built to get into your competitors' hands."
Draco Malfoy pales before turning to Harry who flinches without opening his eyes. "Did you tell her?"
"She saw," Harry replies. Draco visibly relaxes and takes a deep breath. He turns to face Luna.
"You need to prepare me an apology tea," Draco says to Luna. "I almost had a panic attack. He's right. If our competitors got a hold of that information, we would be doomed."
"I won't tell." Luna says. "Apology tea coming right up!" Luna jumps off of the table and turns to make tea.
Draco turns to slump on a chair and also closes his eyes.
"What's the verdict?" Harry asks.
"It's a mess," Draco says, massaging his temples. "The whole structure needs to be repaired; I don't know how it's even standing. There's a loss of over two feet on all sides. It's actually pretty damn noticeable if you're standing at the bottom looking straight up."
"I think I noticed that. But the only way to fix that is to—"
"Restructure the building. And this is Hogwarts. In the middle of term. With hundreds of current students."
"But if we don't, the whole building could collapse. Serious structural failure. Is it spell corrosion?"
"Most likely. The spells that helped ensure the proper angles of the stairwell have been slowly failing, which led to their slow inward collapse. The stairs fell because—"
"Repeated interaction with the failing walls, and the spells could take only so much variation from their dictated dimensional boundaries. When they varied too much, the spells collapsed, and the stairs fell," Harry says.
"Exactly."
"So where do we start? Do we shut down the building? Evacuate the wings closest to the impending collapse? We can't just rebuild to new dimensional specifications."
"No, we can't. That'll lead to more horrible accidents. But if the spells are failing in the stairwell, they might be failing around the entire school. And if any part of the school collapses, there's the risk that hundreds of students could die. Below the ground floor we have Hufflepuff and Slytherin and house elves, in addition to volatile potions ingredients that are probably just waiting for a trigger to cause disaster. Above ground, we have classrooms full of untrained overactive students, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, the Hospital Wing, the library, teachers, countless of priceless artefacts."
"Well, we aren't going to let the building collapse."
"We're going to try our hardest to stop it, but it might despite our best efforts. I mean, you're powerful and I'm intelligent, but we're still only two men. We can certainly fight against the castle but we need to prepare in case of the worst scenario."
"A complete and full evacuation of everything within the castle. How long do you think it'll take?"
"Probably an hour," a voice chimes in. The two men startle. They completely forgot they were not alone. Luna is standing with a tray of prepared tea. "Here's your apology tea, Draco," she says as she hands Draco a cup of tea. "The house elves practice the procedure every holiday break during the night. All material possessions excluding people are removed within forty-five minutes. Another forty-five minutes to put them back. I presume the people and the beds will take about fifteen minutes more."
The two men stare at her blankly. She just smiles.
"Well then, that settles it. Please let them know we believe a full evacuation of the castle is in order to due to severe structural failure evident in the castle. Call for a conference of the professors and we can discuss our findings with them. Let's go look for more evidence to see if the damage is widespread or localised," Harry says.
"After my apology tea," Draco interjects. "Luna has yet to apologise."
"Oh, my dear Draco, I am sorry for frightening you. Please forgive me," Luna says with a bow. "Also, please reassure Harry that you're not leaving even after your parole ends."
"Luna!" Harry chokes on his tea. She smiles knowingly.
Draco smiles. "Thank you, Luna. I forgive you. I accept your apology tea," he says. "And Harry, you idiot, of course I'm not leaving. Although Archie's is looking wildly tempting—do you know how much they're offering me? Fifty thousand galleons a year—"
Harry scoffs. "If you left me, I know for a fact you wouldn't leave me for Archie's. Besides, that's pocket change to what you're making now."
"But the alliteration, Harry!" Draco says. "It's so catchy. Why didn't you come up with something like that?"
Harry shakes his head morosely. "I failed, Draco," he admits. "I never thought about that. LSA will never be able to compete with the genius that is Archie's Arches."
Draco snorts. He drains his tea cup before following waving good-bye for Luna and following Harry out of the break room.
"Do you think we made the right choice, Lizzy? Going without the privacy contract?" Harry asks later that night.
Lizzy looks at Harry carefully. "Harry," she says, "I think you're forgetting something important. LSA is widely known as the best architectural firm worldwide, and nothing can affect its reputation at this point."
Lizzy waves her hands at a corner of their room. "Do you see those framed articles over there? Did you even read them?"
Harry makes neither affirming nor discouraging sounds so Lizzy presses on. "Every single one of them is an awards listing for LSA. And LSA is always on top. LSA has never lost."
Harry nods. "But that's nothing related to—"
"I'm getting there, love. Remember when you and Draco entered in that European competition last year? The easy-peasy one? Oh, you know what I mean. But it was the one where you had to build a shed and the last one standing wins a million euros? There were over ten thousand companies entered?" Lizzy says. "Even your friend Ahmed was there!"
When Harry nods, she continues, "And everyone there had at least thirty people on their team, but when you and Draco showed up—just the two of you—everyone was so intimidated. But when you entered your private booth and exited only a few hours later, everyone laughed and no one thought your construct would last past the third stage. Other people had spent hours on their sheds, and you only spent what—three?"
"Two," Harry corrects.
"Two hours," Lizzy says passionately. "And then when the competition began – and the stages started—what were they all? They had different categories—"
"Geological, hydrological, meteorological, astronomical, magical," Harry says quietly.
"And with each successive round—there were seventeen consecutive rounds, right?" Lizzy says. "One right after the other—with no repair time in between."
"Avalanche, landslide, earthquake, sinkhole, volcano; flood, tsunami; hurricane, blizzard, hail, ice, lightning, tornado, fire; asteroid, zero gravity; magical bombardment," Harry says, counting on his fingers. "I think that's all."
"And how many did you pass?" Lizzy asks.
Harry doesn't answer.
"You passed fifteen. LSA passed the most rounds in the entire history of the competition. The second place winner was destroyed on the ninth round—and that was Ahmed because you taught him most of his spells! Your building only broke when an asteroid hit it. I remember, because the commentators were so pleased they were able to finally use that spell. Harry, love—LSA gained its reputation that day. Your name is in no way going to affect LSA. Your work speaks for itself," Lizzy says. "You are incredible. You have done an amazing thing—you and Draco both. I know you're upset that the privacy contract is essentially null and void now, but maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this will finally allow people to see you for who you really are, and not for who they thought you were."
Harry sighs. "I'm just scared," he admits. "I know that it's the right thing to do, but it doesn't mean I want to do it, you know? Does that make me a bad person?"
Lizzy shakes her head. "No, Harry," she says. "It doesn't. It makes you real."
The newspaper arrives at their house early the next morning. The front page is plastered with the bold heading: "Hogwarts Evacuated! Damages More Severe Than Expected!" To Harry's relief, the announcement of the lack of privacy contract was complimentary: "Due to the extraordinary circumstances regarding the Hogwarts Disaster, the owners of LSA are working on the repairs without their renowned privacy contract, finally revealing that the owners are none other than Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Draco Malfoy. Mr. Potter, Order of Merlin, First Class, is famous for his defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Mr. Malfoy, on the other hand, has an unsavoury past with recorded involvement with the very same Dark Lord's regime. These two individuals theoretically would not interact, but close acquaintances of the duo report that they are good friends and have reconciled their differences. With regard to LSA, an investigation of the company led to the discovery that the founder of LSA is an individual named Mr. Advait Bajwa. Whether or not LSA is a recent acquisition for Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy is unknown, but interviews with previous clients suggest that the two have owned LSA for several years; most notably, they owned the company when it won the prestigious European Construction Perdurability Competition in 2009. With this in mind, the reliability of their upcoming Hogwarts repairs is ensured."
Harry shows Lizzy the article and she smiles knowingly. "See? There was nothing to worry about," she tells him kindly.
"I'm just worried about the mail," Harry says. "Pass me the toast, will you?"
"From the Weasley's?" Lizzy asks.
Harry nods, his mouth full of food. He swallows before responding, "Yes—remember when they asked me to fix up the Burrow?"
"They probably won't be very happy about this," Lizzy says. "But they're irrelevant—what they think is insignificant. You just have to remind yourself that the most important people love you."
Harry twists his lips. "I try and tell myself that, but it still hurts, you know? Their opinions really matter to me even though I don't want them to," he says. "I'd rather hear nothing at all than find out they're upset with me."
"Would you really?" Lizzy says, "I think their silence might be just as painful as their scorn."
Harry fidgets in his chair. He's bouncing his leg—a nervous habit he's had for years—shaking the table through the vibrations.
Lizzy lets Harry burn his nervous energy this way for some time, but when Lizzy's coffee cup starts to rattle on the table, she stops him by saying, "Harry, you need to get dressed. You've got to get to work soon. I'll let you know while you're upstairs if you've any mail."
Harry sighs, but stands up from the table and leaves the room. Lizzy looks at the table, messy with the breakfast plates and the crumbs Harry has left where he was sitting. She knows that she could ask Harry to clean up for her with a few spells, but she feels like she would be taking advantage of him. She clears the table by hand, then begins to wash the dishes in the sink.
The stairs at Hogwarts fell in late March, and it is now late April. Draco and Harry are exhausted, but despite their thoroughness, their progress has been fast due to their experience. The repairs are almost complete.
The letter from the Weasleys has not yet arrived—and Harry is starting to think it never will. He's okay with this, much more okay than he had anticipated. He's happy, despite the daily reminders he sees when repairing the castle of his time spent there with Hermione and Ron.
But then again, he's with Draco this time around—and new memories are being made. Covering up the new. The castle is starting to feel almost cumbersome with the weight of their magic—but Harry is only slight concerned about this, considering that he's the only one of the pair that feels like he's walking through mud every time they cast the spell. The magic around them is spiced and full of life—and Harry can tell that Draco is starting to realize that the weight of it is becoming unwieldy. They're going to have to figure out a solution for this, but Harry thinks that this problem will resolve itself when they've finished—then the magic can spread itself out across the entire castle instead of being restricted and concentrated in the locations where they originally cast the spell. Then the magic will be a network—free flowing throughout the entire castle stones.
It is a beautiful morning—the sky is clear and spring is beginning to awaken from the ground. Lizzy is finishing the washing while Harry is upstairs getting dressed, when their owl drops off several letters onto the table through the open window. In order to prevent an endless stream of owls from following them all over the property, Harry performed some magic that directed all owl post to a single drop-off. From there, their own owl would deliver once a day in the morning. Lizzy assumed this was commonplace—but she was assured by Astoria that no, this was not the typical scenario. Lizzy feels like her experience with the magical world has been a very different one compared to most, based off of what Harry's friends have told her.
Lizzy examines the envelopes. There are a few that appear to be interview requests from newspapers—these are standard, and Harry has received only a few more than usual today. She sets them aside, and then finds the letter Harry had been dreading—the one from the Weasleys.
Lizzy hesitates, but decides that she's going to be reading this letter before she shows Harry.
Harry –
We saw the article about how you own Living Stone Architecture almost a month ago, but we didn't know what to say until recently. Truthfully, we still don't know what to say, except that we're upset that you don't trust us. You'd think that after everything we've been through together trust would be the one thing we would have left. We didn't finish school because we trusted you—we followed you, we were hunted, we fought a war, and we were almost killed because we trusted you. We trusted you, but you never trusted us.
We don't know why you decided you could trust Malfoy over us, but this realization hurts us deeply. We haven't kept in touch very well, but we've only just realized that this was on purpose, on your part. You lied to us, because lying by omission is the same as a lie. We grew apart, which is okay, but you pretended to want to keep in touch with us, and we can't help but think it would have been better if we just had made a clean break.
It feels like our friendship has been a scab you've been trying to peel off for years now. And now that we know just whose company you prefer over our own, it makes a lot more sense. It's best to rip off the rest of the plaster quickly.
We always expected that you would be an uncle our daughter would know and love. But now, we realize all you will be is a fairy tale.
Hermione & Ron Weasley
Lizzy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her husband would not want to see this letter. Silence would be better than this outright rejection of their past. Harry has accepted their silence with hardly a limp in his stride—how badly would this news affect him? She wants to be honest with Harry, and she has never withheld anything from him before. She folds the letter and hesitates as Harry walks downstairs.
Her decision is made for her when the floo chimes and Astoria steps out with a cheery greeting.
"Hi, Tori," Lizzy says when Harry gives her a hug.
"I have the greatest news, but you can't tell Draco yet, okay? I'm going to tell him later!" Astoria says as she squeezes Lizzy tightly.
"Well, go on!" Harry says. "What's the surprise?"
"I'm pregnant!" Astoria says with such a large smile that it barely fits on her face.
"That's fantastic!" Lizzy exclaims, taking Astoria's hands. "How far along?"
"Six weeks," Astoria says.
"Congratulations! I won't tell Draco a thing—but I've got to go. I wish I could stay and celebrate with you," Harry gives Astoria another hug.
"Don't tell him anything! I'm setting up a surprise for him and he's going to be thrilled!" Astoria says.
Harry grins. "My lips are sealed!" He gives Lizzy a kiss, and then leaves.
"You have to tell me everything," Lizzy says as she guides Astoria to the couch.
"You know—you know how Draco's wanted kids for a while? But I didn't—I was resisting?" Astoria says. "Well, I didn't tell him I went off of the contraceptive potion I was on—because I wanted to surprise him."
"Is he going to be okay with that?" Lizzy says. She's surprised. She could never imagine herself doing something behind Harry's back regarding something so monumental as a human child.
"He had said something about wanting a baby only a few days before, and if I was ready to try," Astoria says. "I hedged my answer, and he didn't push. He totally wants a kid."
Lizzy nods. "That's great then! Congratulations! Are you able to tell if the sex this early with magic?"
"Yes," Astoria says. "But I don't want to find out. I don't care if my baby is a boy or a girl or a hippopotamus. They can make that choice for themselves when they're ready."
Lizzy raises an eyebrow. "Really? So you're not going to... define its gender?"
"No," Astoria says, "I know that's what a lot of people do, but I don't want to force my baby into suffering from gender dysphoria if he's a she or she's a he, so we're going with gender neutral colours for baby gear and I'll let my baby decide whenever they're ready. Kids intuitively know this stuff."
"I didn't think that was a magical practice," Lizzy admits. "It's not really accepted in non-magical society."
"Well, it's not either. Sure, we've magic to make transitions easier for transgender people, but I think that the sooner the person is able to identify, the less gender dysphoria they have to suffer. Merlin forbid my child has to go through puberty as the wrong gender! I can only imagine how devastating that would be," Astoria says.
"What about names then?" Lizzy asks. "I thought Draco's family was big into tradition with constellation naming patterns."
"Oh," Astoria pauses. "I hadn't really thought about that."
"Are there any gender neutral constellations?" Lizzy says.
"Let's find out!" Astoria says. "Accio astronomy textbooks!"
Lizzy snorts at this summoning charm, but watches as several books appear from different corners of the house.
"You look at this one." Astoria hands Lizzy a book.
It's a book describing the 88 formally recognized constellations in alphabetical order. Lizzy looks at the table of contents.
"Ara is the best one, I think," Lizzy says. "Unless you want to name your kid Reticulum."
Astoria laughs. "Oh yes, I see it now. Reticulum Malfoy!"
Lizzy shakes her head. "I think with the name, you might have to go without a star name—but what does Draco feel about all of this?"
Astoria pauses again. "I hadn't really thought about that either."
Lizzy smiles gently. "You should probably talk to him before you decide on your parenting strategies."
Astoria sighs. "You're probably right, you know. When are you and Harry having kids?"
Lizzy slowly loses her smile. "We can't," she says. "Harry isn't able to father any kids."
"Oh, Merlin—I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bring up any sore subjects!" Astoria apologises.
"It's okay," Lizzy says. "We're planning on adopting some kids when we're older."
"You two would be good parents," Astoria says softly. "They would be the luckiest kids in the world."
"We'd be the luckiest parents," Lizzy corrects. "We just want to have a family."
They are quiet for a few seconds before Astoria smiles. "Your time will come," she says. "I know it."
It is later that afternoon when Harry and Draco are in the Hogwarts main stairwell—the site of the original collapse. It is the last and final section of the repairs before Hogwarts can officially reopen.
They're both standing by the entrance to the room. Harry is levitating some of the massive marble pieces away from the centre point at the base in order to start reforming the stairs. The centre is where they need to place the blood for the room—with the size of the stairwell, placing blood on individual pieces is impossible. Putting blood on the central location is necessary to stabilize the entire space, as they've learned throughout the month of repairs.
As Harry is clearing the floor, Draco is trimming the stone on the upper floors to make the areas of the ceiling and floor of the cuboid room equal and provide perpendicular surfaces.
All is going well when somehow a piece of Draco's work interferes with Harry's levitation and starts a cascading reaction of crumbling stone. It's only due to Harry's quick and instinctive reaction that causes him to halt the magic in its place—frozen in time. The stone plummets and almost crashes onto the floor but Harry stops it before it does. The centre point is clear—and there is enough room for someone to anchor the Living Stone spell there.
They stand there gasping for air—before they look at each other with wide eyes. They had predicted this task to be easy but now—now it has turned far more sinister.
Harry blinks hard a few times before he begins to speak. It takes Draco a couple moments to begin to process what he's saying.
"—drop the marble since we both need to cast at the same time," Harry finishes. Draco shakes his head.
"Say that again," Draco asks.
"Basically, I'm going to have to drop the marble since we need to cast at the same time to fix this," Harry repeats.
"But—but Harry—" Draco says. "We need someone in the centre."
And if the marble drops—it will fall right on the centre.
Harry nods. "I know," he says. "I know."
"We can't—we can't do this. Just drop the marble and then we can deal with the outcome," Draco says.
Harry is starting to sweat—Draco has never seen this before—and then says, "I don't know really what happened when the spells combined but something—something caused a chain reaction and it's still going on."
"But you've stopped it!" Draco says. He refuses to accept what he thinks this must mean.
"No," Harry says with a laugh that sounds pained. "I've paused it—but if we don't fix the stairs right after I release the stones, it'll—the—the spell—"
Harry grits his teeth and fixes his grip on his wand—his wand, Draco realises with rapidly increasing dread. "Backlash—it'll keep going—spread throughout the castle—I don't know when it'll stop—it's feeding off of the magic we've been casting all month."
"Harry—" Draco says. "I'll go—I'll do it."
"No," Harry says. "I'll do it. I'll go under the stone. Hogwarts was my home once."
"It was mine once too!" Draco insists.
Harry blinks fiercely. "Not in the same way that it was mine. And coming here has made me realise just how much I've grown since we were kids. I've lived a good life."
"But you are loved," Draco exclaims. "I'm worthless—no one will miss me much, except for family—so let me do it—there will be an uproar over your death!"
Harry shakes his head. A bead of sweat drips down the side of his face. "I will risk myself. Astoria is pregnant—she didn't want to tell you yet, I don't know why. You have to live for your kid."
"You're lying—there's no way she'd tell you and not me," Draco says.
"She came over this morning, Dray," Harry says hoarsely. "It doesn't matter—but looking, you have a kid coming; I don't."
"You could! Lizzy could be pregnant!"
"Dray, Lizzy and I—we can't have kids. It's not going to happen to us, okay? The horcrux—it took that away from me, and that's okay. It's why it took me so long to marry her but we're okay with it. I didn't want to prevent her from having a family when I knew she wanted kids—she was hesitant and I was hesitant, but we decided whatever, you know/ There's more to life than kids. But you'll be a great dad—and I'll do this. And it may not even matter—I could be fine," Harry says, but he looks away.
Draco knows immediately that this matters—that Harry wasn't going to survive this—that Harry was going to die—that there was nothing he could do to stop this because if he didn't let Harry die, then the entire castle would crumble and the magical backlash would destroy the forest and Hogsmeade and—Harry was going to die.
"Just finish the spell, Dray. Whatever happens, just finish the spell."
"Harry, wait—slow down for a second, you can't—you're stronger than me, you can hold the weight of the spells for longer than me and I can go under and fix it—" Draco begs.
Harry looks at Draco with calm eyes. "Promise me, Draco Malfoy—promise me, swear it to me. Finish the spell. Don't let this be in vain."
Draco hesitates. "I promise," he says.
Harry takes a deep breath and looks straight into Draco's soul. "Tell Lizzy I love her."
"—Harry, wait!"
But it is too late—Harry is sliding underneath the mountain of marble and Draco can hear the muffled sound of his words and he can feel the magic pulse out from where he is. It's like a wave—a ripple of Harry's magic, so familiar to Draco after all these years that it rips through his heart when it tears apart his own spells. Draco clings to them, but there's nothing that can be done to the inevitable—the stones fall.
And Harry is gone.
The sacrifice—the sacrifice of blood. The final piece. The step that the founder's missed. The step that made Hogwarts fail those weeks ago—this was that step, Draco realises. They couldn't bear to sacrifice one of their own, someone whose magic was embedded into the very soul of this castle. And Harry's is now, after their repairs. And if it wasn't for his mistake—for Draco's mistake, oh God, his stupid mistake—then they wouldn't have known this either.
This is why buildings last forever. Not because of drops of blood. Not because of words. But because of knowing, worthy sacrifice—and Draco knows that his spell won't do anything, but he promised so he casts it anyways.
"Lapis Structura in animo est, vivens!"
And maybe because he said it and he was crying, but he feels more peaceful now, his promise fulfilled. The mountain of marble on the ground lifts and returns to their places and the stairwell reforms and the moving staircases come back to life like they were intended. The walls, smooth and clean, the floor polishes itself, the stairs gleam, and the castle is alive, but—
There—at the floor—a shape.
It's Harry.
Broken, misshaped. Crushed.
And undeniably gone.
Draco runs to him and Draco drops his wand and Draco cries. He cries because this was his fault and he cries because Harry is dead now and he cries because he has to tell Lizzy, and he cries because he has to tell Astoria, and Luna, and their friends and oh God—Harry is gone. And he cries because his wife is pregnant and Lizzy can't ever be pregnant because of the damn horcrux that took away half of Harry's life.
Draco is crying—wailing—but the castle—oh, the castle—it is singing.
The funeral is held. It is large, gaudy; everything Harry would hate. "He's a national hero." The ministry says, which is their excuse for taking over what should be a private manner. And when the minister finds out that Harry married a muggle—they prevent Lizzy from coming to the funeral and Lizzy screams profanities until they leave her home. Blair and Ross come to stay with Lizzy at the house by the shores of Loch Awe and hold her tightly as she shakes with the weight of tears that cannot come and they cannot understand why she was prohibited from going to the funeral.
When Draco and Astoria find out, they refuse to attend as well.
When they learn that Hermione Granger is to speak at the funeral, Lizzy is so furious that she asks Draco to send Hermione a howler at the event that would recite what the letter they sent Harry on the last day of his life. Draco tries to come up with the words that would placate Lizzy's broken heart, but he fails and so he pretends to send the howler, and instead never does.
They hold a private memorial later. It is at home, it is quiet, it is private. It is for Harry—the man they knew. Lizzy breaks down, unable to keep her composure any longer. Draco cries too; Astoria is the strong one.
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Time passes—and time is cruel.
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Astoria has her child in November. Draco and Astoria dress the child in green, yellow, and purple.
Lizzy gains weight. She doesn't talk to anyone but Astoria, who is close-lipped. Lizzy spends a lot of time with their baby.
Draco drinks a lot. He closes LSA—he says it was Harry's and that he cannot justify running it anymore. The parole offer, Auror Hughes, says that Draco did not fulfil the requirements of the parole since Harry died and that he would have to come in for weekly meetings again.
Astoria rips into Auror Hughes: "Draco's best friend has just died, you arsehole, can you give him a break? We've just had a baby, and Draco has been perfect. He worked at that company for 9 years—a long time, and it was barely under your stupid requirement. Go away. He's done his parole. Draco's a good person. Let us grieve."
Auror Hughes is a bit taken aback, but succumbs to Astoria's anger. He heard what happened at Hogwarts. Everyone has.
A few people think that Draco killed Harry. Those people are the worst, and they protest outside Draco and Astoria's house constantly.
Hogwarts has never been more beautiful, newspaper articles say. Whatever happened in there was good—evil magic never is beautiful, they reason.
Archibald of Archie's Arches comes to visit Draco and asks him for the spells he used since LSA closed. Draco declines rudely. He says that the spells were Harry's and that they will die with him.
Draco is depressed. He contemplates suicide. He can't help but dream about the crushed body at the bottom of the stairwell.
Hogwarts installs two monuments at the base of the stairwell: a small plaque to the three Hufflepuff girls, and a large pedestal in the centre dedicated to Harry Potter. It is a statue of Harry himself. It is absurd, and Draco hates it, and Lizzy hates it, and she cries a lot more frequently.
Draco gets a firecall from Lizzy one evening and Lizzy begs Draco to take her to the hospital. Draco does so when he realises that Lizzy is sitting in a spreading pool of blood—and the doctors tell Lizzy that is was a miscarriage and that they are so sorry for her loss.
Lizzy cries. Despite the odds—despite everything—she had been pregnant—and then she had lost the baby. There is nothing left of Harry on this earth.
Nothing except his buildings—his buildings that will never fall.