Chapter 26: Spring, Spring, Spring
Harry decided that his only criticism would be that next year, they should lose the drumbeats.
The underscore of percussion gave the whole memorial ceremony the feeling of a death march to the execution gallows rather than a funeral march. No, something subtler would have to be called for in the future, like playing taps.
Ah, well. They had the rest of time immemorial to refine the ceremony.
On this, the morning of May 2nd, 1999, hundreds and hundreds of people had gathered on site for the inaugural observances of what would be many observances to come. Since the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts one year ago this very morning, Harry had to concede that the castle had come a long way in repairs since he had stood on the rolling slopes that afternoon twelve months ago with Ginny, gathering salvageable stonework.
There was a litany, indeed a parade of speakers. McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt each said a few words. Standing in the assembled crowd, Harry worked hard to remain inconspicuous – just a face no different than anybody else's. A face who had answered the call to stand and fight. He did his best to listen to the speeches, even as he couldn't help but let his mind wander over just what he had been doing this time a year ago.
For instance, a year ago sometime in the wee hours of the morning, he had died. A year ago a little after that, he had returned to life. He hadn't been sure of the precise time he had gone to meet his end at the hands of Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, except that it had been deep nighttime, before sunrise. Maybe on subsequent May 2nds, he should consider enchanting a Muggle alarm clock to wake him up at what he judged to have been roughly the appointed hour of his death. He shook his head. Perhaps that was being a bit too solemn to the point of being morbid. After all, Hermione wasn't sure on precisely which day in April she had been tortured, so she had spent almost the entirety of last month wearing sweaters in rapidly warming spring weather. Harry hoped for her sake that one day, she would be able to look upon her scars left by Bellatrix Lestrange with pride. And lose the jumper – it was hard enough seeing Ron in his Christmas maroon get-up every December.
Harry's green eyes, performing a sweep of the assemblage, landed on his two best friends now. Hermione was leaning against her lover, weeping into his shirtfront quietly; Ron, appearing stoic, was kissing the bushy curls of her chestnut hair. Harry smiled at them softly.
The almost background white noise of speakers droning on and on seemed to have stopped suddenly, for all at once people in the crowd were turning to stare at him, expectantly. Harry squirmed, shifting his glasses down to the bridge of his nose and shuffling forward to approach the lectern, set at the base of the Grand Staircase here in the Entrance Hall.
"Good morning," he murmured humbly into the microphone. Silence greeted him in return. Pushing his glasses down his nose further still, he found his place.
"Collin Brian Creevey…." There came the sound of wails from Dennis Creevey and his parents caterwauling over from the back of the throng. Somewhere, in the very near distance, a bell tolled.
Harry had been offered the privilege of saying whatever he wanted to at the commemoration. Though feeling the pressure to do so, Harry knew he had never been the best at public speaking, ever since Muggle primary school. So when Kingsley had mentioned that the ceremony would involve what was to be called a Reading of the Names – the names of the Fallen Fifty – Harry had jumped at the chance to do that. It was simple; he didn't have to worry about prose or memorize anything (certainly not the names of people who had died in part for him); and it would keep the focus largely off of him.
He continued down the list. The names of the Fallen Fifty were arranged in alphabetical order by surname; every time a name was read, a bell in the clock tower tolled. The only time he came close to breaking down was when he was forced to read the names of the parents of his godson: "Remus John Lupin…. Nymphadora Tonks Lupin…." Two bells chimed in rapid succession.
"….. Severus Tobias Snape…." Harry flinched at the chorus of boos that rose up, mostly from Gryffindors and DA veterans, but otherwise ignored the bluster. He was almost at the end of the list that was already too long, far too long.
Somehow, it seemed fitting that the name that was to be read last of all, from now and into perpetuity, was: "Frederick Gideon Weasley…." Howling wails from Molly, and Harry lifted his head to watch what he considered his extended family close ranks in a group hug. Enveloping most of the group with his long, gangly arms, Percy was visibly, violently shaking with wracking sobs of guilt.
Harry quickly gathered his paper and moved to take his place with the Weasleys. Kingsley formally dedicated a plaque at the base of the Grand Staircase, with the names of the Fifty embossed in gold, and the memorial ceremony began to disperse. Harry slapped backs with Ron, conferred in low tones with Hermione. Off to one side, Audrey was kissing her husband to try and assuage his feelings of torment; Percy had always, to some degree, partially blamed himself for his brother's death. Further away, Harry was heartened to see how Ginny was talking cordially with Angelina Johnson.
His girlfriend must have been listening, following that disastrous Easter dinner, for Harry had later heard that Ginny had eventually apologized to Angelina and the girls had made up. Harry now hung back, waiting until Ginny had moved away to comfort George before sidling up to his old Quidditch teammate.
"Thank you, Angelina…." He didn't have to explain for what.
Angelina just turned and glanced at him. "I didn't do it for you." Harry wasn't insulted by this, for she hadn't, he knew. Done it for him. She hadn't even done it for Ginny.
She had done it for George.
And also for Fred.
It was a blinding sunlit day some four weeks later, a bright morning in early June. Harry still had to squint through his Muggle sunglasses against the glare. Glancing to his left, he noticed how Ron was fiddling with his own in the way a little boy studies a new toy.
"Stop that!" he hissed. Ron quickly did, though he still pouted, his wand held aloft over his shades.
"I'm just saying – wouldn't it be cool if there was, like, a charm, see, that could make the tinge appear or disappear? Like, say you were coming inside from somewhere: wouldn't it be better to just have the tinge go away so that you're wearing regular specs without having to switch them out?"
Harry pondered this. As someone who was so near-sighted that he had needed to wear glasses for as long as he could remember, and been teased throughout his Muggle school years for it, he couldn't help but smile with amusement at how Ron's ingenious idea had merit.
"You're more like George than you realize, mate. You should talk to him about it. Magically enchanted spectacles that can turn into sunglasses…. Perhaps he would sell them in the joke shop!"
Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe I should."
If the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts had been a time of mourning, then the graduation of the seventh years of Hogwarts – some of whom should have, would have, graduated last term, if not for the war – was to be a time of raucous celebration. Harry and all the Weasleys were in attendance to support both Hermione and Ginny.
"Do you think Hermione's parents will know how to get here?" Ron wondered casually, though the way he kept looking over his shoulder was more anxious than anything else.
Harry smirked. "I suspect our best girl would have given them ample directions. But I think your dad was on stand-by, to help them just in case."
"Oi!" Ron whacked Harry on the arm and pointed. "Here they come…"
Behind a jaunty Arthur, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were approaching over the crest of the next rolling hill, glancing about the grounds in awe. It made Harry sad to think that the first time they would be seeing the castle was the day their daughter graduated from school, but Statute of Secrecy laws were quite strict.
"Harry. Ronald." David Granger stuck out his hand for a shake.
"Sir." Both boys returned it, Ron a little warily. Over this past year, he had been over to Hermione's house a few times for dinner, so he could get to know her parents better. Judging by his reports back to Harry, David Granger could be quite intimidating. He was an older father, sometimes came off as gruff, and was clearly very protective of his little girl.
Jean Granger was more effusive, even going so far as to give each kiss each boy on the cheek, along with a hug.
David cleared his throat. "Fellas…. What's say you and me take a walk?"
Looking at each other, Harry and Ron nodded. The graduation ceremony would be starting soon, and they didn't want to miss the moment Hermione walked for her diploma.
David led the young men a short distance away, looking down at the grass and shuffling his feet awkwardly.
"I, er….. I just want to thank you."
"Sir?" Ron blinked.
"Son, if you call me 'sir' again, I will beat you over the head with an umbrella!"
Ron's expression didn't change at the threat. "What's an umbrella?" Harry dropped his face into his palm.
"Ask your father; the chap seems to love that sort of thing…" David waved away. He shifted from foot to foot listlessly. "As I was saying, I just want to thank you lot. For…. for being there for my little Hermione. You know, in primary school, she was shy, and she didn't have a lot of friends…. She was teased a bit, for her smarts…." He swallowed. "Now, while I still have concerns about how you fellows shared a tent with her in the woods – alone – for months on end…." (Harry and Ron fought the instinct to lean back, even as they both cringed). "…. My girl tells me that nothing untoward happened, so…. thanks for that."
Ron was now blushing as red as his hair. "Um…. you're welcome…."
David grinned agedly. "She talked about you boys all the time in her letters home, you know. I suppose I should have been expecting it that she would eventually fall in love with one of her best mates."
"Which one of us did you reckon she would have fallen in love with?"
David appraised Ron up and down and snorted. "Definitely not you!" The boy had laid his own trap, and Hermione's father seemed only too gleeful to spring it. Though Harry took in with surprise David's imagining that it would have been him, Harry, and not Ron, who Hermione would eventually find something more with, he nonetheless found himself amused by it. To his even greater amazement, Ron actually seemed amused by it too. Not too long ago, the man might have been jealous about someone making such a statement.
"Yeah. Reckon that makes sense…."
"Also…." And here David flushed sheepishly. "I'm sorry for how I acted. That night we all came home from Australia. Ronald, your parents have been really nice to me and my wife since then, even though I felt like we didn't deserve it."
Ron just chuckled and clapped his girlfriend's father on the shoulder. "Weasleys have heard worse, mate. Blood traitors, for instance."
"Now, tell me: what exactly is a blood traitor….?"
Ron explained as he and David wandered back towards the ceremony, Harry following along behind, shaking his head in bemusement.
The men returned to their group just in time, Jean pressing a Muggle camera into her husband's hands; when a fascinated Arthur tried to reach for it to have a better look, Fleur smacked his hand away.
"Papa…..!"
For the graduations of each House, the Head of House was tasked with reading the names of their seventh year graduates. Minerva McGonagall stepped up to the lectern; the Gryffindors would be up first. As, Bs, Cs, Ds, Es and Fs passed largely without comment.
"….. Hermione Jean Granger, summa cum laude with seven NEWTS!" The Weasleys, Grangers and Harry broke out into wild cheers as Hermione proudly crossed the stage.
"Um…. she's not bringing home seven actual newts, is she, Ronald?" David murmured low.
"No, NEWTS, are…." Ron's voice trailed off as he spotted Hermione breaking into a beaming smile as well as a sprint now that she was off the stage, intent on running into his arms. "Excuse me one moment!" Catching his lover and spinning her around, Ron swept her into a dip with a flourish and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Fleur, Audrey and Angelina started wolf whistling; David just rolled his eyes.
Ron and Hermione sensuously broke apart, smiling into each other's shining eyes. Ron swung her up out of the dip so that Harry could hug her.
"Congratulations, old girl!"
"I have to go sit back down!" Hermione whispered to her boys excitedly. "We have to watch for Ginny!"
"And Luna, with the Ravenclaws!" Ron reminded her, and his girlfriend nodded before pecking him on the cheek and scampering off.
Ginny's name was near the very back of the pack alphabetically for the Gryffindors. When she at last crossed the stage, Mrs. Weasley burst into happy tears while many DA veterans in attendance gave one of their three former generals a standing ovation. Another thunderous ovation followed some time later, when Luna Lovegood walked amidst the Ravenclaws.
Ron leaned into Harry, whispering low. "Now wouldn't you love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, I must say…." Off in the slight distance, they could now see Luna and Neville talking in low tones while standing near each other awkwardly. From where she and Hermione had by now rejoined their respective boyfriends, Ginny too watched the exchange with hawkish eyes.
"Ohh….. I do hope they might get back together!" She sounded near tears. Judging alone from the body language of their friends, however, Harry was inclined to doubt it.
"Do you think Luna is leaving with her father for abroad just after the ceremony?" Hermione chittered to Ron, who could only shrug.
The quartet were just in time to catch a glimpse of Luna sadly kissing Neville goodbye before turning away, moving in the direction of the Black Lake.
"I'm gonna go talk to her," Ginny pronounced.
"Hurry back, Gin!" Ron called after his sister. "Mum says we have to be leaving soon!"
Just then, Minerva McGonagall was calling for quiet, immediately following Bartimaeus Zink being called for the Slytherins. "Attention, please! Now, will anyone present who would have been a seventh year graduate at the end of last term but has not completed their studies please raise their hands?"
Sharing a befuddled glance, Harry and Ron awkwardly obeyed. "What's happening….?" Ron muttered.
Hermione seemed to get it faster than the boys did, from how she gasped. "Oh….. Oh, my Godric….." She seemed to be near tears.
McGonagall smiled. "Now, when I call your names, please step forward to receive your diploma….. Lavender Scarlet Brown!"
A roar similar to that of a jet engine greeted the blonde-haired girl who had been so viciously wounded in battle. Lavender looked bemused and deeply touched as she crossed the stage and shook McGonagall's hand.
"I can't see any of her scars!" Hermione whispered to her boyfriend.
Ron shrugged. "Maybe she's found some treatment that can help her…."
"Neville Francis Longbottom!"
Bellows and stamping of feet and chants of his name as a grinning Neville mounted the steps. Receiving his degree, Neville pumped his fist and roared, "Dumbledore's Army!" The audience, save for a few Slytherins, went nuts.
"Harry!" Hermione was nudging her best mate to the stage as Parvati Patil was walking. "You're next!"
"What….?"
"Harry James Potter!"
The cacophony of approval caused his eardrums to nearly burst and bleed. In a daze, Harry accepted his diploma from his former Head of House.
"And last but definitely not least…. Ronald Bilius Weasley…" McGonagall threw up her hands. "You did it. You graduated!"
Ron was in even more of a fog than his best mate as he received his degree. When he got back to his family, his brothers and Ginny manhandled him before Hermione was pushing them all aside, to return the favor and give her lover a hearty, passionate snog on the mouth.
Elated at the happy surprise, the 1998 seventh years all gathered together in a huddle, whooping and hollering. Harry's face broke out into beaming surprise and laughter as hands reached for him and grabbed him, lifting him, their hero, onto their shoulders. As he hefted his degree on high, Harry decided that being a Hogwarts dropout had been fine enough….
…. But the one thing infinitely better than being a Hogwarts dropout was being a Hogwarts graduate.