Chapter 1: A New Portrait*
Hogwarts was healing.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the once-magnificent stained glass windows of the Great Hall. Dust hung in the air, catching the light and making the scene almost serene. Piles of rubble lay against the walls, the evidence of battle still vivid. Professors and students worked side by side, their wands flicking and swishing to lift debris and restore order.
Hermione Granger stood amidst the chaos, her brow furrowed in concentration. She had volunteered to help with the restoration of the library. The thought of the castle's vast repository of knowledge being damaged had been unbearable to her. Now, with her sleeves rolled up and dust in her hair, she worked tirelessly, sorting and repairing books with a dedicated focus.
"Reparo!" she muttered, pointing her wand at a stack of torn pages. The pages flew together, binding themselves neatly into the spine of a large leather-bound tome. With a satisfied smile, she placed it on the growing pile of restored books.
A voice from behind her made her jump. "Always knew you'd end up surrounded by books, Hermione."
She turned to see Harry, his black hair as untidy as ever, his glasses slightly askew. He was smiling, but there was a weariness in his eyes that hadn't been there before the war.
"And what's wrong with that?" Hermione retorted with a grin. "Books are a source of knowledge, Harry. I would've thought you'd appreciate that by now."
Harry chuckled and nodded, glancing around at the organized chaos of the library. "I do. But you've got to take breaks, you know. Even the brightest witch of her age needs to eat."
Before Hermione could reply, the door to the library swung open, and Professor McGonagall entered, looking as stern and determined as ever. Her eyes softened slightly when she saw them.
"Potter, Granger," she greeted, her Scottish accent crisp. "There's something I need your help with."
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. "Of course, Professor," Harry said. "What is it?"
McGonagall gestured for them to follow her. "I need assistance in the Headmaster's office. It seems we've discovered a new portrait."
"A new portrait?" Hermione repeated, surprised. "Of who?"
"That is what we must find out," McGonagall replied as they made their way through the corridors. "It appeared quite suddenly, and none of the other portraits recognize him."
As they reached the spiral staircase that led to the Headmaster's office, Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. So much had changed in such a short time. Dumbledore's portrait now resided there, alongside Snape's, a recent addition. Both men had played pivotal roles in the war, and their portraits served as reminders of the sacrifices made.
The door to the office creaked open, revealing the familiar, yet always awe-inspiring, room. The walls were lined with portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses, all murmuring to each other. At the center of the commotion was a new portrait, its frame a deep, rich mahogany.
Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the figure within the frame. A young man with tousled dark hair and mischievous eyes sat in a high-backed chair, wearing robes that looked decades out of date. He looked no older than Harry, perhaps just a few years older, and his expression was one of bemused curiosity.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, stepping closer.
The young man in the portrait smiled. "A fair question, Harry Potter," he said in a voice that was both warm and enigmatic. "My name is Gideon Prewett."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Prewett?" she echoed. "As in… related to Molly Weasley?"
Gideon's eyes twinkled. "Indeed. Molly is my sister. Or was, before I died, that is."
The room fell silent. Harry and Hermione exchanged stunned glances.
"You're… you were in the Order of the Phoenix," Harry said slowly. "You and your brother, Fabian. You both… died fighting Death Eaters."
Gideon's expression turned somber. "Yes, that's right. We fought until the end." He leaned forward, his eyes meeting Harry's. "But I didn't expect to end up in a portrait. I'm as surprised as you are. One moment, I was… elsewhere, and the next, I'm here, in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts."
Hermione's mind was racing. "But how? Portraits are usually commissioned. They don't just… appear."
"Magic is a curious thing, Miss Granger," McGonagall said thoughtfully. "Perhaps there's a reason Gideon's portrait has surfaced now, at this particular moment in time."
Gideon nodded. "I think so too, Professor. I can't explain how I came to be here, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that everything happens for a reason."
Harry looked at Gideon, a newfound respect in his eyes. "Maybe you're here to help us rebuild, to remind us of what we're fighting for."
Gideon smiled. "Perhaps. Or maybe I'm here to find some peace myself. Either way, I'm glad to be back, even in this form. And I'll do whatever I can to help."
Hermione felt a wave of warmth. Despite the darkness of the past year, there was still light. There were still miracles. And maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to heal, together.
As they stood in the Headmaster's office, the echoes of the past seemed to fade, replaced by the hope of a future still unwritten.