Chapter 2: Echoes of the Past*
Hogwarts was an ever-changing puzzle, a place where history and magic intertwined. After the Battle, the walls whispered of bravery and loss, of love and sacrifice. As the castle rebuilt itself, so did its inhabitants, each grappling with their own ghosts. The appearance of Gideon Prewett's portrait was another puzzle for Harry and Hermione, a thread in the tapestry of magic and destiny that they had come to understand was never truly predictable.
The following morning, Harry found himself drawn back to the Headmaster's office. He had slept fitfully, his dreams filled with fragmented memories of the past year—Voldemort's cold voice, the flash of green light, the faces of those they had lost. The idea of Gideon Prewett, a long-lost member of the Order, appearing in a portrait was strangely comforting. It was as if the past was still reaching out, reminding him that he was not alone.
He climbed the spiral staircase and knocked on the office door, which swung open at his touch. Inside, the portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses were in their frames, some snoozing, others pretending to read. Dumbledore's portrait had his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, watching Harry with an expression that suggested he had been expecting him.
"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice as calm and reassuring as ever. "I had a feeling you would come."
Harry smiled faintly. "Morning, Professor. I just… I couldn't stop thinking about Gideon."
From his place in the newly materialized portrait, Gideon waved a hand. "Well, well, Potter's here. Thought I might see you again." He grinned, though there was a touch of sadness in his eyes. "So, how are things? How's Molly?"
Harry leaned against a nearby desk, crossing his arms. "Mrs. Weasley… Molly, she's doing as well as can be expected. She's strong. After Fred… well, the whole family has been grieving, but they're holding together. The Burrow is still full of love."
Gideon nodded, his expression softening at the mention of his sister. "She was always the strongest of us, you know. Fabian and I used to tease her about it, but we knew. She'd always be the one to keep going, no matter what." He paused, a distant look in his eyes. "It's good to know she's surrounded by family. I just wish… I wish I could tell her I'm alright. That I'm here."
Harry hesitated, then glanced up at Dumbledore's portrait. "Is there a way? A way for him to… communicate with Mrs. Weasley?"
Dumbledore stroked his long beard thoughtfully. "There are ways, Harry, but they are not simple. Portraits are echoes, a reflection of the person's essence. Gideon's presence here suggests a powerful emotional anchor, a desire to remain connected. But as for direct communication… it would require a bridge, a magical conduit."
Gideon's eyes flickered with hope. "A bridge? What sort of bridge?"
"A portrait can move between frames," Hermione said from the doorway, making Harry turn in surprise. She had a determined look on her face, a book in hand, as if she had been researching the entire night. "If there's another portrait of you, or if we could commission one to be placed at the Burrow, then maybe you could travel there."
"That's brilliant, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "We could talk to Mrs. Weasley, get her permission. I'm sure she'd want to see Gideon again."
Hermione's smile was hesitant. "It's worth a try. But the creation of a portrait is no small task, especially one meant to interact like this. We'd need someone skilled in portrait magic, someone who understands the delicate nature of transferring a person's essence into canvas."
Gideon chuckled, the sound warm and full of life. "If it means seeing Molly again, I'd say it's worth a bit of effort. But there's no rush. I'm here now, after all. We have time."
Harry felt a weight lift from his shoulders, the familiar rush of determination replacing his earlier unease. "Then let's do it. We'll find a way."
Dumbledore's portrait smiled, the twinkle in his eyes even more pronounced. "It seems, Harry, that even in times of rebuilding, there are still quests to embark upon. Bridges to be built, and connections to be restored."
As they left the office, Harry felt a renewed sense of purpose. It was a small thing, perhaps, but it was something he could do. A way to bring a bit of happiness to the Weasleys, who had given him so much. And maybe, through this act, he could honor all those they had lost.