His brother was dead.

He felt sick.

The little spurt of joy from knowing that Voldemort's reign of terror was over had started to fade… and Dennis was left to return to 'normalcy' as if such a thing was possible.

How could life be normal now, with his brother torn out of it? What was he going to tell Dad?

Although he didn't notice, the rest of the defenders began the long process of gathering the pieces. The bodies of the dead had already been gathered- Dennis lingered like a shade near Colin, rooted by grief- but there was much else to do: arresting the Death Eaters, whose morale had collapsed after the slaying of their Dark Lord; treating those grievously wounded who might be joining the dead soon; and the most basic repairs to Hogwarts, enough to make the halls safe to walk.

Ideally, all hands would have been on deck to help with the cleaning and repairs… but Dennis was not alone in being shellshocked. Many survivors of the battle were too dazed to provide any meaningful assistance and were more liable to slip on a puddle or trip on rubble than anything else.

It was the start of a new day for the wizarding world- the bright dawn they had hoped for- but they were still haunted by the nightmares of the preceding night.

The days following the battle would always be a little fuzzy for Dennis. He knew he spent quite a bit of time lingering near where the corpses were, struck by disbelief.

Some kind strangers (who he couldn't remember well enough to thank, unfortunately) had dragged him away long enough to eat, drink, and sleep, but otherwise, he waited there, hovering, like some sort of carrion crow. Thankfully, someone had used a few charms to prevent rotting. (That would have driven him off the deep end, he thought.)

All sorts of machinations went on high above Dennis' head. All he knew was that he eventually ended up back home. Harry was the one who guided him, barely functional, through the Floo Network and then Apparated the rest of the way. He should have been excited, but he could barely bring himself to care.

It was the same apartment as always, the same old halls and neighbors that tried their level best to ignore them, the same carpet that never quite seemed dry, the same door he had passed through. Dennis had come to a stop before it, and his arms were suddenly leaden, incapable of rising up to knock.

"Dennis?" Harry asked, concern evident. He had tried to start a conversation several times already, to little effect. "Should I…?"

There was no way Dad would take this sort of thing well. No possible delivery of this news would be good, but Dennis delivering it could do something to alleviate it? Maybe. Still, he couldn't bring himself to do little more than give a shaky nod.

"Alright."

Harry's fist knocked against the door, and it felt as if not a second had passed it flew open, revealing the disheveled, poorly-shaven figure of Dennis' father.

"Dennis?" He turned to Harry, his expression growing sour. "You're… Harry?"

"Harry Potter, yes." He nodded.

"I knew it. I saw Colin's pictures." Harry and Dennis both cringed a little when they heard Colin's name.

This wasn't going to be good.

"I'm so sorry, Harry-"

"It's fine," Harry said. "I've done dumber things while grieving."

"He shouldn't have tried to punch you-"

"I dodged, though." Harry was a seeker, after all. He could dodge bludgers, so he could certainly dodge a clumsily thrown punch by a man blinded by rage and grief.

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't mind it, Dennis. If you need anything, just call, alright?" Dennis nodded.

Harry had volunteered to keep an eye on him. He remembered exactly what it felt like to lose Sirius, and if he could help the Creeveys weather it, then he would.

Some part of him wondered if Colin would have died out there if he had been a touch less obsessed with him- perhaps if Harry had been more brusque in the past- or if he might have lived had Harry been a better teacher back in DA. But there was no productive end to that train of thought, Harry knew full well.

To be honest, the Creevey 'household' was a bit of a dump, although Harry didn't want to go throwing insults at a man who had just lost his son. With a few waves of his wand, the worst of the mess was handled and a pleasant, vaguely piney scent filled the air. (He had picked up a few hygiene spells on the Horcrux hunt. Useful stuff.)

After making sure the affairs of the Creevey household were as handled as they could be for the moment, Harry left. It wouldn't be the last time he'd see them. Firstly, because he wasn't just going to leave them stewing in grief for a summer, and secondly… they'd be the ones to ask about funeral arrangements.

This summer was packed full of funerals.

A few of the Creevey's neighbors noticed him as he left. There was no need for an invisibility cloak or secrecy here- he'd tell them the truth, or at least a large part of it. Colin had died, tragically but bravely, in a terrorist attack, and Harry, as a concerned classmate, was making sure that the Creeveys were alright.

There was a funeral, of course. A quiet, solemn little affair at a churchyard near home. Dad seemed a little cheered by all of his son's many well-wishers, but being informed that his boy was brave wasn't much consolation compared to having him alive and in your arms.

At some point, things had become routine. Harry would visit a couple of times a week and would use his magic- as Dennis couldn't do so legally- to keep the house in proper shape and undo all the messes Dennis and his father had accumulated during the week.

He would also multiply their food through the power of magic- it helped them stretch their money out. There was this lasagna one of their neighbors had cooked for them, and Dennis was pretty sure he had eaten all the way through it at least five times by now. It was a pretty good lasagna, he would admit.

And yeah, they kind of needed to stretch their money out. As it turned out, a long-term depressive episode wasn't very good for the milk-manning career. That, and the fact that fewer people were using milkmen… well, Dennis was very glad for the help, and certainly not prideful enough to raise a stink about it.

Dennis stared down at his plate and thought. There was no reason for a wizard to starve. Not really. They had the means to produce anything they'd ever need to eat or drink, houses to live in and clothes to wear…

He was struck by the sudden feeling of being scammed. Why did the wizards make them pay for anything?

Well, he understood why he paid tuition for Hogwarts. The teacher's time was worth money. He understood economics that well. Also, yeah, it made sense that nice food that required skill to make would be expensive.

The only thing you actually, really needed was a wand. From that sprung an entire livelihood. Not necessarily a glamorous one, but it was something. Depending on how loosely you defined food, you might just be able to get what you needed from someone's lawn! A wizard shouldn't have to pay a damned knut to anyone if they knew what they were doing.

Well, maybe that was actually their scheme the whole time. Bleed the kids dry before they learned magic and could do things by themselves.

Going shopping at Diagon Alley was… painful. He had always expected it would be something they'd do together- or at least as long as Colin attended Hogwarts- but now… just Dennis. For sentimental reasons as much as fiscal, he tried to reuse Colin's old textbooks, but even then there were still some things he needed, refills of supplies as well as books for the new DADA curriculum.

Diagon Alley looked different. Most of the vestiges of Voldemort's terror had been washed away, and new businesses had sprouted up. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Voldemort regime was bad for business (and quite bad for certain types of business owners, as you might imagine) and it left a lot of gaping holes in the market. Sometimes quite literally. There had been a few very publicized arsons, although was it really arson if it was done by the government?

Whatever. There were a surprising number of upper years he recognized standing at tills or stocking the shelves- although there were some faces he'd never seen again, he knew full well…

Dennis had to stop and rest for a moment, his forehead pressed against cool stone.

He remembered running around with barely contained excitement the first time saw the Alley. Even Dad had been amazed by it, although if he had known what was to come, he probably would have run away screaming.

Progress was slow. But all he could do was carry on and try to finish.

More out of morbid curiosity than anything else, Dennis crept in the direction of Knockturn Alley. Or rather, what used to be Knockturn Alley. Someone had transfigured the signposts, so it was now called Diurn Alley. What a weird name. What the hell was a Diurn….?

Oh. Somebody probably thought they were really clever for that one, didn't they? Literally just the opposite of Knockturn Alley. He supposed it meant that they were open to change.

In the bookstore, he tried not to think about the sort of propaganda that would have filled the shelves just months ago. Books that provided "concrete proof" that he was little more than an animal.

He managed to make his purchases, despite… budgetary constraints, and contemplated money. Would he have to get Harry to visit his Dad during the school year? It might be good if Dad were to have his own owl, but the price…

Before returning home, he had to cut through muggle London, complete with all its shops and grocers, and he was once again struck. If you needed good food to summon… you were surrounded by muggles. Any delicacy you could ever dream of. Hell, it didn't even need to be theft! Magic meant it wasn't a zero-sum game! You could just copy the food, right?

Well, you'd have to be careful about doing it in front of muggles, and Dennis couldn't until it was legal… but it was a lot to think about. A welcome distraction.

Meals got a little better when Dennis convinced Harry to cross that line. Sure, he didn't actually have the stomach for foie gras, but the Creeveys were eating well. Much better than a milkman should be able to afford, even with a (singular) kid-

The food was a good distraction, at least. While there were obvious problems with his life outside of the food situation, hot meals were certainly welcome. Everyone, he thought, deserved something like this. It might be impossible… but it was a nice thought.

Well, it didn't have to be impossible for wizards, right? They could do something about it.

At the moment, there were little more than the vaguest outlines of a plan in his head, but that's where all plans had to start, right?

Magic should, in theory, make it possible for every wizard to be happy and healthy, to not have to worry about a roof over their heads or food in their bellies. (That, Dennis thought, was a future worth fighting for, more than some arbitrary sense of pure-blood superiority.)

It was then, with some embarrassment, that Dennis realized he had fallen into the exact same trap the Death Eaters did. Sure, he wasn't quite as much of a murderer about it, but why restrict the plan to muggles? Because it'd be easier? That's what he would have liked to think, but some small part of him wondered… was that him buying into the same wizarding bullshit?

Dennis chewed on the inside of his cheek and thought. Alright, who would he talk to if he wanted to help the most people possible?

Getting good at the disillusionment charm had taken a while, but the rewards were far too obvious. It let him stake out the Prime Minister's place without getting tackled/shot/apprehended or all of the above. And oh boy, did it scare him.

Sure, the blokes with guns were a bit intimidating, but that wasn't what got to him. The complete lack of any modern magical defenses was. Someone as young as Dennis should not have been capable of subverting the security, but here he was. (God, what if some Death Eater had enough brain cells to consider Imperio'ing the Prime Minister or Parliament, directing all the resources of the state to winning their war?)

Did Dennis take the opportunity to sit in the fancy chairs and peek at some secure paperwork? Of course he did.

The Minister knew about magic, he thought, so it wouldn't be illegal to talk to them about it. But why would they care for a random teen, even if they were magical? Well, breaking through their security would definitely be a way, but that was a rather bad introduction.

Dennis sighed and resolved to get a subscription to the papers. He needed to be up to date on politics, he needed to know what problems the muggle government faced each day… (maybe he should take a closer look at the paperwork, actually.)

After all, the best way to get an in with the Prime Minister would be to solve their problems, right? But he couldn't just walk in.

He needed answers. Solutions.

The political scene after the fall of Voldemort was certainly something. Obviously, power had fallen into the hands of those who had played a part in the Dark Lord's fall.

Hermione Granger was rocketing up the ranks, fighting for the rights of house elves and other magical creatures while also preventing any sort of backsliding regarding so-called dark creatures. She wouldn't let werewolves suffer just because a few had served Voldemort.

Harry Potter was, of course, a rising star among Aurors, and he was determined to clean up the rot in the ministry. He didn't run for any serious positions, but he was a notorious investigator of corruption and graft. (He would never let the Ministry fail people as it had failed him and his friends.)

Of course, in the midst of this governmental reform, there were many newcomers hoping to get a piece of the pie, and maybe change the country while they were at it.

Parties cropped up like weeds, and usually lasted about as long. Some folks just wanted to forget politics and live, thank you kindly.

Still, if you were to open the Quibbler, you would have found something interesting near the back, buried in a collection of obscure classifieds. Just under the mailing address for a business selling seeds for magical crops, there were a few lines:

THE SOCIETY FOR MAGICAL UTOPIANISM

Looking for individuals who hope to use their magic to meaningfully improve the world. Contact Dennis Creevey for more information.

Lord help me I'm back on my bs

Anyways, themes should be kind of obvious. Dennis is putting his own life back together and trying to put society back together better. The latter is him attempting to bury/cope with the former, to some extent.