"I'm not worried about the structural damage," Gin explained. "It will be easy enough to repair and replace stonework and ceiling plaster. The problem will be the old spells. All of them will need strengthening and quite a few will need to be recast completely, that means deconstructing ancient work. I believe we're up to it, but it will take time."
Blaise drummed his fingers on the table in thought. "Just a thought, but do either of you know how they enchanted the ceiling in the Great Hall? There isn't much trace left to deconstruct and Hogwart's wouldn't be Hogwart's without that ceiling."
Gin smiled, "I'll confess; I've thought about that ceiling quite a bit over the years, and I think I just might know where to begin."
"Why don't we just ask the ministry for their detailed spell by spell blueprints of the castle?" Luna asked.
Gin smirked and Blaise looked over at Luna with amusement mingled with something else. "Because, Love, that would be too easy." There wasn't the slightest chance that such plans existed, but Luna had never stopped believing in the random conspiracy theory/faery tale.
"Anyway," Gin continued, "we'll also need a grounds keeper. Is Hagrid alive and around?"
"I'm sure the centaurs would know where to find him," Blaise answered, "but he hasn't really kept in touch with anyone I know of."
"I'll talk to them tomorrow, then." She looked down at the list she was compiling of what they knew they needed and ideas of where to get it. So far it was fairly short. Since magic was going to be the key element, materials weren't that much of an issue, but she had decided a few books on basic construction as well as theoretical deconstruction of spells were in order. The first could be found at any book store, but Flourish and Blotts would probably have the best, but the second would be more tricky to find, a few stores down Nockturn Alley sounded the most plausible. Then there was the question of replacement furniture, tapestries, and curtains. Those, however, could wait since it would be some time before they reached that stage in rebuilding.
With a sigh she stood and excused herself for a moment, promising to bring more drinks with her when she returned.
Not long after she disappeared into the back, Draco Malfoy strode into the pub. Scowl firmly in place, he made his way over to the table in the corner and stood before Blaise. "What the bloody hell is this?" he asked, throwing a neatly written note before his friend and partner. "'Having dinner at the Three Broomsticks, likely to spend the night there,'" he quoted. "And I suppose the business meeting we have been trying to arrange for months, scheduled for tomorrow morning, factors in these plans..." he let the sentence hang, prompting Blaise to finish the statement.
"Not at all, Mate," came the response. "You see, a more important planning committee session has been called, one that supercedes all other prior engagements." His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. He long ago learned the secret to dealing with Draco was to avoid putting any more pressure on the high strung man, refusing to feed the fire, so to speak, with more dry wood. Sadly, it was a lesson the red-head had never learned. Although Blaise had sneaking suspicions that she simply refused to abide by the rules because she disagreed with them.
Draco crossed his arms and leaned back a bit. At thirty-five, he was an impressive man. He had all of his father's stateliness and all of his mother's grace. He had also added his own brand of confidence to the mix with a strength of character fought hard for and won not easily. Very few could stand up to him when he was set and very few could resist him when he was at his ease. Much less easily riled than in his youth, it could be argued that his temper grew worse this time every year, but not even Blaise would dare make that observation aloud. "And what, pray tell, is this 'committee' meeting you speak of?" he asked dryly.
Blaise didn't get a chance to answer, for at that moment the sound of breaking glass shattered the tension and drew all eyes to the bar. There, staring in the shock of the unprepared, was Gin, three glasses in shards around her feet.
"Dray." Even her whisper was heard across the room. Everyone had seen Malfoy's entrance, noticed earlier the Zabinis presence, and had already been whispering about who the red-head must be. Her reaction to Malfoy confirmed all of their speculations.
"Ginevra." Suddenly all of the strength typically present in the man's face and shoulders faded into pained self-restraint.
Swallowing hard, Gin pulled out her wand and fixed the glasses she had broken. Setting them back on the counter she took a few steps toward the table before summoning her list. Looking at Blaise, she said, "We'll need his help. I'll...I'll see you at breakfast." With that, she turned and headed up the stairs to the guest rooms.
Minutes after she disappeared, Draco found the presence of mind to move and took a seat next to Blaise. Still visibly rattled, he nearly whispered, "Help with what?" His eyes hadn't left the staircase.
"Rebuilding the school," Blaise answered simply.
Draco's eyes focused and found those of his friend. "I assume," he said, "that no one has spoken of getting permission to do this. The castle is technically ministry property now." His voice held a note of resignation to the inevitable.
"We figured it would be easier to reopen if the structure is already sound." There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in Blaise's voice. Both he and Gin had thought it out separately and come to the same conclusions.
Draco sighed. "There are quite a few, loud, individuals that are dead set against rebuilding the school, or building a new one for that matter. If you proceed without permission, they will use that against you when you try to open."
"Two problems with that vein of doubt, my friend," Blaise smiled his famous winning smile that had absolutely no effect on Draco and never had. "First, you assume we plan on acquiring permission to open the school." He shrugged. "We simply intend to claim it and do as we please. Second," he took a sip of his water, "With her oratory skills and your knack for speech making, I figure we'll do just fine."
Draco rolled his eyes.
Blaise laughed. "She did convince a handful people that thought her mud and unworthy of breath and a handful of those who thought her deserving of a traitor's death to follow her, side by side with mortal enemies, into the Last Battle, stand unified, and fight for each other's lives." He smirked, "And you, well, you had your father's record hanging over you head when you begun to speak and within days you had turned the world's favourite villain, one Ginevra Weasley, into the Chosen One's equal. So no, my dear Antony, I am not worried."
Draco groaned. "Antony couldn't make a speech to save his life, those words of worth belong to Skakespeare." He stood to leave. "I'll do what I can, but remember," he added wearily, "I will now have to cover for you at the office as well as do my own work, so don't expect me to dig in like a child in a sand box, yeah?"
Once he had cleared the door, Blaise called for a firewhiskey.
Madame Rosemerta made her way over the table. "I don't see why you order it, you never drink it."
"I like having the option," he answered.
"Is it true? Are you really rebuilding the school?" she asked in hushed tones.
He looked at her warmly, "Yes, it is, but word will spread quickly enough, so if you don't mind..."
"Of course," she said with a smile, "no one will hear of it from me or those I employ." Hogsemeade had suffered since the closing of the school and she was anxious to see life return to those streets. She still looked forward to the next few months with mixed feelings, however, because that life would come in waves on the back of reporters once the world learned Ginevra Weasley had returned.