It was a scene of hopeful glances hidden by saddened lips. The scenery was a destroyed school, in which all of them had been taught that impetuous art that had the power create and end in the same league. Inside of it, where the bodies of children and adults, light and dark alike. And the corpse of Voldemort.
The cheer of the morning after had soon died out in facing their losses, and the crumbles of Hogwarts.
After returning from Dumbledore’s tomb, he had been taken by Ginny, that fiery tempest of a woman, and dragged to somewhere. He could barely make a thought of the actions, but soon he was shoved down into a bed, and her hands pried his shirt of his chest with a ferocity and a knowledge of his body that had been acquired in a lifetime ago. He had not been aroused, simply because of the situation they found themselves, but he didn’t think she was either, for after trailing his chest with butterfly kisses, she laid her head upon his heart – her arms around his torso, her entangled in his, listening to his heartbeat.
“You are alive.” She whispered, and then her anguished cry broke out, a storm of sorrow and loss.
Harry also cried, his hands caressing that mane of flaming red hair. He cried for Remus and Tonks, and their son Teddy, another orphan of war. He cried for Fred, and for George, bound into living a life without his other half. For Snape, so lost in the past and his regrets, constantly haunted by errors in his solitude standing. For Colin, eager and brave, fascinated by the wizarding world, in which he was only able to live in for five years. For Lavander, silly and lively, a young girl that had been such a constant presence in his life, just like those fifty others that had once walked among these corridors. But in truth, he cried most for the living, whom had known all those souls and would be haunted by them until they met again in afterlife.
He knew deep inside that in the Muggle World, yesterday would not have been called a battle, and certainly not the end of a war. Yet, in the Wizarding World, so small yet so enchanting, each loss was felt heavy for all. The dead were not unknown faces – they were magical beings, part of the meagre population of UK which had been gifted with magical. A classmate, or a customer in your shop – a face that you had seen in Diagon Alley or King’s Cross.
The wizard didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Ginny would sometimes stop, tired of her tears, and play with the hair in his chest or her nails, and then she would sob again, frantic seeking for solace. Harry didn’t know what to say for the girl who had lost her brother. He was strangely honoured by the fact she had chosen him to mourn. She had a family – people who could understand her loss more easily, yet there had been no hesitation in her actions. For a moment, he felt tempted to tell her. About afterlife, about King’s Cross. But he didn’t think it would help: she seemed to be just as anguished by the thought of death, and maybe the living weren’t supposed to know about it. To not fear death was a maddening thing, and perhaps in fear it was that one could find reason to live fully.
“Is it silly of me? To cry this much?” Ginny had mumbled hoarsely against his skin, probably around sunset.
‘I don’t think so.Why would it be?”
“Well, you are not crying anymore.”
“That’s because of you.”
“How so? Am I crying for both of us?”
“No, you are giving me a place to be, a role. And it’s beautiful.” He said, smirking slightly into her hair. She pinched his nipple slightly, asking him to continue. “As a container for you tears.”
She gave him a shadow of a smirk, and Harry felt proud of himself for eliciting that reaction. Suddenly, she played with the waist of his pants. “Up to grief sex?”
“I’m quite tired, you know, there was a battle, I think.” He answered teasingly, even though he could feel his cock stir with the idea, Ginny could feel it too, for this time she smirked fully.
“Thank Merlin for our teenaged bodies, then.” She said, at the very same moment she unzipped his pants.
“I don’t think an old dead wizard with saggy balls has anything to do with this.” He continued, helping her to take of her shirt and bra.
She had a wonderful body, freckles and tanned skin. It had changed slightly from last year, her Quidditch muscles slightly overlooked and her duelling muscles overworked. There was a whole new pack of scars, which he supposed that came from leading a resistance inside your school, and her nails were in shambles, abused by her bites. He had changed too – eight months on the run weren’t exactly a fattening period, and there were some new scars as well. Ginny was slightly fascinated by Nagini’s bite on his forearm, and she took a whole minute inspecting it. His hair had been cut by Hermione, meanwhile hers hadn’t been cut at all since he last saw her: it was reaching her arse, and what a fascinating arse it was.
The sex was slow and tired, very different from their usual. They were chasing pleasure to blunt the grief for a moment, to feel only physically and blind emotionally. Ginny rode his manhood carefully, enjoying the centring feeling of cock inside her, while he allowed himself to be lost in her warmth. It was a strange situation; the love they felt so deeply was so entangled into the sorrow of losing someone that feeling was not an option, only fucking. After their orgasms all they were left was with those feelings, and a sense of familiarity and solace. Despite of all, they were home.
“I can’t believe I’m alive.” He whispered, and that was true: he had been prepared to die, and he had died. Yet there was he again. Was all of this a dream? Perhaps the Wizarding World had never existed and he was still a boy living in the cupboard, whose real parents had been drunkards in a car accident.
“I thought I had lost you too.” But no, he couldn’t think like that, could he? That would be a blasphemy to all his loved ones, to all of those that had died for him, to all of those that were still alive. If that was dream, God never let him be awake again.
“I’m here. Always.” That reminded him of his mother: the only real memory he had of her would be post-mortem, but that was alright. He tried a phrase that was too emotional for him, but felt right at the moment: “We never leave, you know?”
Ginny nuzzled his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, a mattress for her body, and they felt into a land of dreamless sleep.
He woke up in the middle of the night, a nightmare he couldn’t remember sending shivers into his body. He sat at end of the bed, and for the first time he looked around. They were at the Gryffindor tower, first-year boys’ room. That was probably the first time anyone had sex there, huh. Harry could hear voices spelling somewhere around. Yes, there was a castle to rebuild, bodies to bury, Death Eaters to hunt. Many had escaped after Voldemort’s defeat. He felt a moment of guilt for neglecting all of that, but then he felt arms wrapping around his neck, and legs around his waist. A kiss on his nape.
“I thought you were tired.” Ginny said.
“I thought too. But I can’t sleep.”
“Come to bed would be useless, I guess.”
“There’s much to be done.”
“And only one wizard can do it? You know that it is not true.” She argued and then sighed, untangling herself from him. “Well, I suppose I should do something as well. Mum must be looking for me, even though she ought to know where I am, she must be…tired. You will need help?”
“It’s ok. I’m going to see Teddy first; I think I should be the one to tell Andromeda. Then I am going to talk with Ron and Hermione. And then with Kingsley, I should speak with him too.”
They parted their ways soon after that, a brief hug before following their directions. As Harry roamed around the crumbled corridors, he could see that he wasn’t the only one awake at the hour: the castle was packed by lone wanderers with cups of coffee or tea, spelling shambles into walls and cleaning debris. He didn’t think he would be very good at either, so he only passed by those, a pat in the back or a hug in some cases. He could feel the glances thrown his back, but he couldn’t muster any discomfort with those, as he was worried over the more terrifying task of informing a mother he barely knew of her daughter and son-in-law’s passing.
Walking outside the rebuilt wards, he apparated outside of the Tonks home, an cottage in Winkfield. Andromeda must have seen him at the gate, for she was at the doorstep in a moment. She was a lovely woman in her forties or fifties, fashionable in a very muggle-styling, whose corpse he could very much imagine thanks to the image he had of her sister’s corpse. “Harry, is it true? The Potterwatch...”
He didn’t have to tell her, then. That wasn’t exactly relieving. Harry only nodded in response, and she stopped dead in her feet at the middle of her garden, her worried expression changing into one of devastation. Her expression shifted once again when he tried to approach her – to comfort in some way that woman who was so alone in the world, so alike him – she seemed suspicious now, apphrensive.
“Tell me something only I would know.” She ordered in a moment, imperious even among tears, her wand pointed at him.
“And that’s my wife you are shouting at.” He said, because those were the only words he could remember from their first and only encounter. She looked even more unsettled by the memory of her husband, but she let him come to her. It was weird, to hug a woman that you barely knew, but he did anyway. They had a child to take care now, they were bound to become acquaintances. He would be a godfather to Teddy, one that wasn’t unable to act by his wrongful imprisonment. He would never allow Teddy to forget his parents, that he had a family.
Andromeda accepted his shoulder, but her cries were brief and resolute, cut short by the cry of a new-born baby coming from inside the house. She smiled to him them, her face red but ready. “That would be your godson, would you like to meet him?”
He was very tiny, Teddy. Not even a month but already orphaned, his hair was now in a tone of pale and delicate blue, as if he knew the news the day before had brought. It was Harry’s first time seeing such a young baby, and it was incredible that such a creature could exist, delicate and perfect, and that he would one day grow into a real wizard. Andromeda was very careful with him, giving him warm milk and rocking his bundle softly.
“It’s an incredible world, isn’t it? Of life and death. Of victory and defeat. Of hope accompanied by sorrow.” She pronounced. “He has been missing his parents for a day by now. It’s not very fair, but I suppose it is what it is. We will raise him, and Teddy will be a wonderful man that makes his parents proud even from afterlife. It’s the only thing I can do for my family. Would you like to hold him?”
Harry hesitated, but Andromeda wasn’t likely to hear no from him. She put her grandson in his godfather’s arms and for once, Harry was able to forget everything with that light height against his skin. “Hello Teddy. I’m Harry. I knew both of your parents, and I loved them so much. They loved you so much.” He looked at Andromeda’s beseeching eyes for a moment, then faced again the baby in his arms. “I had a stone that allows you to speak with those that have passed. I spoke with your dad. He said that he was very sorry he will never know you…but he hopes you understand that he was trying to make a world in which you could live a happier life. They both were, they are still a part of you.”
Teddy gave a smile and even though he knew that in new-borns those were only reflective actions, he had to give some meaning to that. “How did they die?” Andromeda questioned.
“Remus died duelling Dolohov. Tonks...Tonks was defeated by Bellatrix. I’m so sorry.”
Andromeda shivered her eyes angry and haunted altogether. “What happened to them? What happened to my sisters?”
“Mrs. Malfoy helped me. I had to face Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest before, and we fought. He hit me with a spell, and Mrs. Malfoy confirmed I was dead, even though I wasn’t. She knew that. They escaped after. Dolohov was defeated by Professor Flitwick. And Lestrange…Mrs. Weasley killed her.”
“I had to thank Molly, then.” She sobbed. “For avenging my daughter. He will never know his mother because of a woman I once called sister. She never forgave me; she killed my daughter because of me.”
“Bellatrix Lestrange was a madwoman. Anything she did was her own doing.”
“I did pity her once. She went through so many things, so young.” She gave him a sardonically laugh. “But I was fooling myself, of course, she was vile – she always was – and I was too blind to see it for a long time.”
She was very lost in her own thoughts, so Harry took chance into analysing the child he had been entrusted with. Teddy had a longer face that probably came from Remus, and Tonks pixie-like nose and eyes. He had no idea how to care for a baby, but when Andromeda noticed that his hair was getting whiter, she snapped out her thoughts.
“He is getting sleepy. Give him to me, so I will put him to sleep. There is hot water in the kettle, make us some tea so we can discuss somethings. I suppose you will have to go after?”
“Yes, I’m sorry but there are –.”
“I completely understand, my dear. You must allow me some time for myself as well.”
“I can go.” He said, extremely uncomfortable with the situation.
“That would be unnecessary. Make us some tea, though.”
He did so, walking to the place she had pointed as the kitchen, warming two cups and the tea-pot with a spell before adding four tablespoons of black full leaves to the tea-pot and pouring water and waiting five-minutes before pouring it into the teacups. It was the exact time needed to Andromeda to appear in the kitchen.
“He is a very easy child to put to sleep. His mother was such a fussy baby. His hair gets white when he needs to sleep, and orange when he is hungry. To this day, he has managed the appropriate tone of brown for everytime he poops and pees. Poor dear, I hope he manages to control that one when he gets older. Dora never could.”
That was a bit more information about Tonks that he would have liked to know. Seeing his face, Andromeda bit back a smile, even a sad one, and added a bit of milk to her tea.
“I don’t think you have ever taken care of a child, so he will live with me. That, I hope we both agree. There is also the fact you are a celebrity to take in consideration, I don’t want him exposed to that.”
“Trust me when I say even I don’t want to be exposed to that.” He groaned.
“But you will, hence that must be taken in consideration. He is your godson, though. It would be unfair to deprive him or you of any contact, so I only ask for discretion. What do you plan to do?”
She was a very straightforward woman, and even more down-to-earth. Harry would have loved to be honest: I honestly have no idea, woman. I never thought I was going to survive all of this. But he didn’t think it would give a positive second-impression, and in their first encounter he had thought she was the murderess of her daughter.
“I don’t think I will return to Hogwarts, it was once my home but now I don’t think there is a place for me there anymore. I will probably buy an apartment, beg Hermione to teach me, take my N.E.W.T.s and see where it takes me. And hunt Death Eaters, I suppose. The people I love won’t really be safe if those that wish to hurt them and me are still out.”
It was not that bad of an answer to tell the truth. He wished to do all of those things, in a way or another. His deeper wish was to have a family, but he thought of the woman he had been with not even an hour ago. As long as he kept her safe, he thought she would still be interested in him enough to give him a chance.
“Buy an apartment with an extra bedroom, then, and make sure is the city. When Teddy becomes a teenager and wish to run away to party, he won’t sleep into a strange place then.” They exchanged smiles. “Merlin knows how many times I worried if my daughter was sleeping under the bridge.”
“I can organize it. The funeral. You will be busy with Teddy.”
“And you with the aftermath. But I could use some help. I have distanced myself for such a long time, you probably know more people that knew them than I.”
“I know nothing about my parents’, I didn’t know where were they until December. I know it may sound selfish, but –.”
“I understand. I suppose you will be attending many these weeks. How many causalities –.”
“Fifty-six on our side, I believe. Forty-seven on theirs. I don’t know how many more will be retrieved.”
“A hundred and three bodies to be buried. And then and the lost souls imprisoned somewhere, dead or tortured. And many more that escaped and must be caught. It’s a terrible business, war.” She sat her cup into the table. “You should leave now, I suppose. I will send you an owl with the undertaker I hired to Ted’s funeral, and the other specifications used in a Black service.”
“Thank you. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Tonks.”
“Call me Andromeda, Harry. We are raising a child together.”
He had found Ron and Hermione in the kitchens, but there was no food involved in that scenery. Hermione was crouched in a circle of house-elves, muttering first aid spells around, while Ron patted the back a sobbing she-elf, while applying dittany to another’s wound.
“Pomfrey took those that needed emergency healing into the Hospital Wing, but both Hogwarts and St. Mungo’s are overflowed.” Hermione explained when she saw Harry’s confused glance. Harry nodded and knelt at her side, taking his own holly wand in hands. Merlin, it felt so right and whole again.
“What’s your name, miss?” He asked a young house-elf, whose face had many superficial a broken nose and a bulge in the shoulder joint. Her bright green eyes peered at him, surprised with the address.
“Deely is no missus, Mr. Harry Potter, but Deely’s name is Deely. Deely must thank Mr. Harry Potter for defeating Mr. Voldemort.” Harry snorted at the address, but nonetheless muttered an Episkey over her nose, that went back in place with a crack. Deely whined a bit.
“Sorry. But it’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Deely. Now, you have a dislocated shoulder, miss. I can but it back in place, I have done this several times in myself, so if you allow me I will do it manually. I don’t think Episkey works here. May I?”
“Yes, please, Mr. Harry Potter. It is hurting Deely.”
“Ok, so tell me, how did you get to this state, miss?”
“The cleaning elves were fighting a giant. Deely is a cleaning elf.” She said, proudly. He took her forearm, and with a simple gentle movement, rotated the bone. Deely didn’t seem to notice.
“That takes a lot of bravery, miss. We are done here but be careful moving this arm in the following weeks. Now you, lad. Let’s take a look at this face? Do you have any other injury?”
This one was even younger, and very eager. His face was covered by bleeding cuts, but he was unbothered by those. He uncovered his tea-towel to show a nasty cut in his back, not very deep but clearly painful. “Todd got his fighting a werewolf! Just like the great Harry Potter got his fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”
Ron gave him a shake of head, slightly amused by those elves who seemed unable to understand their own bravery. He was dealing with a fussy old she-elf who seemed more preoccupied with the health of the great Ronny Weasley than with her own torn ear. Harry dealt with Todd quickly, praising the elf’s courage against the creature. He was soon acquaintance with many elves: they had thought Snatchers, werewolves, giants, dementors, and their adversaries had left their marks on them.
They steadily went through the numbers of elves, reassuring words and praises offered by both sides. It was astonishing: how quickly cookers, cleaners and helpers became warriors when their home was threatened. They all spoke of the one who had lead them, who had made them believe capable of biting back: at the end it had not been Dobby, whose life was cut short so early by his sacrifice, but Kreacher, old and bitter, who had fought so many times with Dobby, yet whose defiance could only be inspired by him and Regulus.
When all the elves were healed, they left the kitchens, only a piece of cheese and bread in their hands, as they sat in the Hufflepuff common room, for the first time. Because it was the basement, it was pretty much whole, which couldn’t be said of the Ravenclaw tower and the Astronomy tower, according to Hermione.
“Professor McGonagall has called a team of stonemasons to take a look at the structure. The only thing holding it together are the levitation charms we applied. The wooden bridge was blown up, but a group of carpenters has been called for it and for the suspended bridge, which is half destroyed. I think Professor Flitwick has managed to rebuild the marble staircase and the house-points counters. There were many people working in the Great Hall and the Entrance Hall. The greenhouses are all destroyed. The metalsmiths and glassworkers should be able to take of it. The Quad is very lost, but that I am certain everyone is trying to rebuild quickly.”
“Professor McGonagall has called a Vivencimus for the Sorting Hat.” Ronald said off-handily. “I had no idea there was someone specialized in giving sentience to an objects, or repairing them, before today. We are out of school but the teachers won’t stop teaching, eh?”
“How are holding up, Ron?” Harry asked, because he had not seen his mate since the yesterday morning. They were all bundled against the all, sitting on the floor. Ron rested his head against Harry’s shoulder, because Hermione’s was too low for him.
“It will be ok. It doesn’t feel very real now, you know. So many people have died, and we don’t really have a path anymore. You won, mate, we won. But I don’t feel victorious. Not really.” Hermione took Ron’s hands into hers at that, gently caressing the skin over his wrist. “Perhaps, when I come back to a routine, it will feel more real. But I don’t know when that routine will start.”
“Ginny told us you were going to see Teddy and Andromeda.” The witch remembered. “How did it go?”
“It was very…bittersweet. Andromeda had heard over the radio, but she wasn’t really believing before my arrival. Teddy is a very beautiful baby, but so young. He will grow without any memories of his parents.”
“Memories can be shared though. He will be raised by a very loving family.” Hermione countered, her voice calm. She had laid her head against Ron’s arms, and she seemed very melancholic.
“What about your parents, Mione?”
“Mione and I spoke about it. I am going to Australia with her. We will stay for Fred’s ceremony and then we will leave. Will you be alright, mate?”
“I think so. I have Gin.”
“That’s great, Harry. You are true soulmates.” Hermione sighed.
“I don’t know about soulmates. But I do love that woman, and I don’t think there is another one for me.” He was unconsciously aware of the elbowing in the ribs that Hermione gave Ron at that moment.
“Yes, Harry. It’s truly great that you are banging my sister.” Ronald spoke up, robotically.
“You were the one that put the banging.”
“Oh please, like I don’t know.”
“Well, then it’s truly great that you are banging my best friend, Ron.” If the reddening to the tips of the ears wasn’t an indicator of Ron’s maidenly virtues, nothing else was. Hermione seemed a lot less ashamed of that commentary. Uh, what had she been doing with Viktor Krum at their fourth year?
“We are not banging. We just kissed for the first time.” Hermione defended. “It is very sweet.”
“You know, people usually don’t talk about their sex lives to their friends in front of their partners. One of you should really stop being friends with me so when can gossip like old ladies.”
“Well, you are making love to Ron’s sister and I bet you want to advise about that so…sorry, Ronald, but Harry is all mine from now on.”
“Uh, sorry Mione, but when the options are someone that says bang and other that says making love, I take my advice from the first.”
“And you think a girl would prefer to be banged or made love to?”
“You know we are talking about my sister, don’t you? The redhead firecracker?”
“Yes, Mione. It’s Gin: the intergalactic rebel princess, fight-or-die amazon, a sexy goddess after my own heart. I can assure you she wants to be fucked.” He said with a smirk, imaging those beautiful legs and dextrous hands, that woman that was made of dreams.
“I want to be what, dear?” A voice at the doorstep drawled and there was she, in all her glory and ripped jeans.
“Fucked, love. Fucked good.” He said, smirking at her approaching form. He stood up to his feet, and encircled his arms around her waist, his mouth near her ear. “I can think of a thousand ways to do just that.” He whispered huskily.
“A man after my own heart. The Han to my Leia.” She sniggered back, before glancing at her brother. “And that, dearest Ronny, is how you are supposed to approach Hermione when you feel horny. Now, can we stop talking about my brother’s unexciting sex life, I can be Leia Organa in your imagination – thanks for introducing me to it, Hermione – but Ron ain’t no Luke.”
“Hermione, when did you manage to introduce Star Wars to Gin?” Harry asked, barely capable of catching the reference, as he had only watched one of these, a rented VHS tape of the Return of the Jedi. The Dursleys weren’t great fans of sci-fi, and the time he had alone in the house was very narrow.
“I believe it was the summer before third year, before they went to Egypt.”
“I needed to relax after the chamber fiasco. Don’t be like that. We can watch together again.” Ginny winked at him. “Kingsley was looking for you. How was Teddy?”
“He is beautiful. A lot like Tonks for a new-born. How is your mother? And the rest of…”
“Bill finally convinced her to take a dreamless sleep draught. Dad is blaming himself, even though that is an absurd. George disappeared, and Charlie and Percy were looking for him. I was looking for them actually. Charlie and Percy are the worst of my brothers at comforting anyone that isn’t dragons or politicians – George is neither.”
She looked very tired. Harry couldn’t begin to fathom how confused were the feelings of the woman he loved, and seeing her like that was like a glass shard ripping his heard. When Ginny sagged on her feet his arms wrapped themselves around her form, bringing her close.
“Forget it, Ginny.” Ron mumbled, annoyance in his tone and hopelessness in his eyes. “The only one capable of comforting George is Fred.”
Harry could feel the redhead stiffening at his side. “You think I don’t know that!?” She shouted, shoving the raven-haired wizard aside to glare at her brother. “But does that mean that we are supposed to give up on George, too?”
“Too?! I didn’t give up on Fred!”
“I didn’t either! I was not saying you did!”
“So, what were you saying?”
“I don’t know!” Ginny cried out. “Maybe that I want my family whole?”
“I also want my family whole, but it’s too late for that!”
“Shut the fuck up, Ron! Why don’t you go and disappear once again? Go out there, follow your friends and continue to be the useless dead weight you are!” At that their expressions changed, Ginny’s into stricken regret and Ron’s into angry hurt. Hermione anticipated the change even before Harry could (he had guessed at the disappear, but Hermione had been ready at the fuck), and at the moment Ron stormed out in anger, she was ready to follow his footsteps.
Ginny stood, bouncing back into his embrace in a defeatist manner. “I don’t know I said that. Maybe a part of me still is waiting for my big brother to fight my battles or whatever – but it’s so wrong, oh Merlin, I know I am supposed to fight my own battles…and that Ron has done everything so we could be happier, but…”
“It’s my fault. I needed them, both of them, and I was selfish into believing I would be the only one.”
“Selfish and Harry Potter don’t go together.” She giggled. “Without the three of you, Voldemort would have won. Oh, what I have done?”
“Nothing that cannot be undone. You, me, Ron – we all have volatile tempers. His and mine combated while we were on the run. We said some pretty hurtful things to each other, even about you. But pardoning one another was easy. And he is far from useless, we both know that. He is a great fighter. Without him we would have lost at the Ministry, and we would never have found the diadem. He is better than me, and had not been for this scar the rest of the world would see it.”
“I know, I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do, Gin.” Harry smiled. “He is your brother, you don’t want to see him as anything more than the clueless boy your mother fought with, while praising her daughter. But he is not a boy anymore, and you are not a girl. The only reason you can continue to think that it’s because near Hermione, he and I are both useless.”
She gave him a small laugh. “You are right. When did you get so wise? You are supposed to self-conscious and shy.”
“I did actually die. Maybe it was post-mortem.”
“Yeah, right.” She said, but Harry didn’t fool himself that she believed him, but that was a conversation for another moment. “I should look for him. If you find Charlie and Percy…”
“They also lost a brother. They can comfort.”
“You are right. Again. Merlin, I sound so controlling. When did I become my mother?”
“Or Hermione.” He stiffed laughter.
“I guess at the end we all marry our parents or become them, eh? I always thought Ron had a bit of Oedipus complex.”
“Well, apparently, mom was fiery redhead goddess, so you must be right.”
“Flatterer. Anything else, o’ wise one?”
“Just be patient. You are all stressed, and that’s understandable. Ron has struggled with his self-esteem for a long time.”
“Pot, kettle.” She pointed out, rightly so. “Merlin, I want to fuck you so much when you go all wise on me, do it more.”
“We all need moral compasses. Hermione is Ron’s, Ron is mine, I can be your if you want.” He paused, analysing the context the phrase he used sounded when combined with Ginny’s dirty talk. “Merlin, that sounds like a prequel to foursome scene. That definitely wasn’t what I was going for.”
Ginny laughed once again. “Yeah, no thanks. But I get you, it would be great, unless that means I am Hermione’s because I have no idea how that could work…Still sounds like a foursome or it’s my brains that have turned into mashed mass?”
“How would I know, if my brain has evaporated?”
“I really should go, remember Kingsley.” She shouted, blowing a kiss into his direction and slipping past the common room. Harry was left alone in room filled by debris and students’ memories.
It was weird. He had been born alone, and would die alone. During his life, the moments he had truly alone were very brief, yet he had passed most of it without anyone to truly care about. Hogwarts had been where that fact had changed, and even though many had died and the school was half in shambles, he still had so much. If he had to die again for even a tiny portion of all that remained to him to continue, he would without hesitation. The life he had managed to build was very precious but death was not scary, it was expected. He couldn’t feel very human at that moment. Humans were animals, filled with hunger and survival instincts, emotional pain and discomfort. His wounds were numb and his survival was not detrimental. Vengeance seemed petty and meaningless. It was very peaceful.
He did find Kingsley a bit later. He had taken office in a tent outside the school, very reachable. The man was standing and walking around, reciting lines and stopping every ten seconds to rewrite something in a parchment.
“Harry, you are here.”
“I was named Acting Minister of Magic. A pronouncement was made yesterday on the Potterwatch and the news was quickly spread. It seems that even though most store-owners are still quite scared to return to Diagon Alley, that cannot be said of reporters. I know it’s not fair to ask of you, but as a minister I must do what is right for the people, and only you actually understand the events that have led to Voldemort’s defeat.”
“Allow me to finish, first. You are a great fighter, and an inspiring figure. The proposal I make it’s not in any way linked to me asking that you speak in public. Many Death Eaters have escaped, and we are in need of hands – ready hands. Your abilities were more proved yesterday, so I invite you, and Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, to join a special taskforce, with the sole propose of capturing these Death Eaters and taking them to justice. This proposal stands even if you reject a joint announcement of victory that will happen in one hour.”
Harry stood, speechless for a second. “I…I cannot speak for Ron and Mione, but I accept. Both. Yet there is a sensitive piece of magic that I don’t think that can be spoken of, sir.”
“If we are working together, call me Kingsley, Harry. And what magic is that?”
“Have you ever heard about Horcruxes?”