Day Thirty
Harry sticks his hands in his pockets, staring up at the sight before him. Hogwarts looms in the distance, looking perfectly the same, not a stone out of place. If he studies the grounds closely, he can see the scars of the battle, but only just. Neville was right. They’d been making good progress.
“Come on,” Hermione smiles, wrapping her arm around his. “We better get up there before people arrive,”
By people, she meant photographers. They had flooed to Hogsmeade early, giving them ample time to get up to the castle before the crowds arrived. He had briefly worried this morning about Regulus being left on his own before remembering that his presence would cause even more problems.
“You okay?” Ron asks when he doesn’t move. “We can leave if-”
“No,” he brushes it off. “Let’s go,”
The walk up the castle feels like an old friend and a stranger. The truth was the last time he walked this path was the night Dumbledore died. Hermione’s weight on his arm suddenly felt like the headmaster’s and he shrugs her off quickly, instead taking her hand in his.
“Harry,” she murmurs. “People will see once we get up there,”
So he lets go, a wave of hurt panging in his chest. He pushes it off, knowing he’s just grumpy about the day ahead of him. When they round the top of the hill, they’re met with a spectacle similar to Dumbledore’s funeral. Rows of white chairs facing a stage, all on the picture-perfect background of the lake.
“Harry! Hermione! Ron!” a shout comes from the stage. Neville waves at them, grinning. He hops off the platform and jogs towards them, meeting them halfway. “I’m glad you could come,”
“Of course,” Harry says tightly. “You’ve been doing good work, Nev,”
“Come on, I’ve set aside the front row for you. Luna cast a few enchantments so people can’t approach you before it starts,”
As they follow, Harry wonders how Neville can be so cheery. And then he sees the way his eyebrows are furrowed, and his smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes, an expression Harry’s all too familiar with. Again, he marvels at how connected he and Neville are, alike in ways he’d never realized.
“Hello, Harry,” Luna smiles when they reach her. “You have extra wrackspurts today,”
“Hi, Luna,” he laughs a little, hugging the smaller girl. “I imagine we all do,”
She glances around, considering his statement. “A bit. Yours are the worst, though. It’s understandable,”
“Ah, well,” he shrugs. “This is our spot?”
“Yes! People should be here soon. I charmed the front row with a subtle notice-me-not. Just enough to help people resist the urge to come up to you,”
“Brilliant,” he grins. “Thanks, Lu,”
She beams at him in pride before bouncing off again. Harry settles in between Ron and Hermione, content to sit quietly. He stands up a few times, mainly to greet Ron’s family and Hagrid. At one point, Hermione pulls Ron to the side, talking to him anxiously about something, but Harry shrugs it off, assuming they’ll tell him later. When other people start filling out the chairs behind him, he tenses, but Luna’s charm holds, and no one disturbs them.
When the memorial starts, Harry zones out. He doesn’t want to hear about the people who died or how they’ll be remembered, or how hard the last year has been. He doesn’t want to listen to Kingsley or McGonagall or even Neville (which had surprised him). So when Ron elbows him harshly, he looks up, stunned that he’s being reprimanded for not listening. Then he realizes that Hermione isn’t sitting next to him anymore, and instead, she’s standing on the podium, staring at the crowd nervously. He watches in awe as she takes a steadying breath and begins to speak.
“I remember when Professor- er, sorry, Headmistress McGonagall showed up at my front door and handed me my Hogwarts letter. I thought it was the best day of my life. She told me about magic and wizards and a magical castle that would teach me everything I needed to know. What she didn’t tell me, and really how could she have known, is that I would become part of something far bigger than any of us could have imagined.
The first spell I ever learned was repairo. An odd choice, I know, but it seemed useful. The first time I ever used it was to fix Harry Potter’s glasses on the Hogwarts Express. Little did I know that I would fix his glasses many times over the years,”
She smiles at him a little, and he wonders where she’s going with this.
“Eleven-year-old me thought that fixing glasses and useful spells would be the sum of my magic life. Instead, by fixing those glasses I was thrown into something I never expected. I learned at the age of eleven what a chaotic life with Harry Potter would be. Yet, even when-” she takes a shaky breath, “even when facing the worst things a person could face, I wouldn’t change it for the world,”
He sniffs, trying to hold back the tears.
“Obviously, things would have been better if the war didn’t happen. If we had all had a normal seven years at Hogwarts without something tragic happening every year. But what I mean is that I don’t regret it. I’m grateful to the eleven-year-old me who fixed Harry’s glasses. I’m proud that I could be with him in the last year as we fought the war.
We lost a lot of incredible people—ones I knew and ones I didn’t know as well as I probably should have. And yet, somehow, here we are a month later, healing, and it feels the same way I felt when I learned what magic was. It feels hopeful and beautiful like I have something wonderful in my life to look forward to.”
She pauses and looks at him nervously. He feels Ron shift beside him and turns to see him nod at her subtly.
She clears her throat and continues. “And we have a lot of people to thank that we have that future to look towards. I think all of us should take a moment today to thank people that we personally think have earned it for the individual moments that impacted us the most. I- I know it’s shocking, but I thank Molly Weasley for killing Bellatrix, the woman who tortured me. I thank all the professors who did their best to care for the students during the last year. I thank my classmates who stayed. I thank Neville for the bravery he showed when Ron and I felt debilitated by grief. And of course-” she gulps. “- I thank Harry, but not because he was the chosen one. No, I thank him and Ron for saving me from a troll in the girl's bathroom, for putting up with my many years of persistent knowledge-seeking and studying, for being my best friends, and for being the best partners a girl could ask for,”
Gasps and murmurs shiver across the crowd. Harry’s jaw drops, and he almost rises out of his seat, but Ron places a hand on his thigh to keep him still.
“I look forward to the future we create as we heal together, both in my own life and as a wizarding society. I hope to be a part of it, to make real change, especially for people like me and those who haven’t had a voice. Thank you all for coming.”
Ron stands up and offers a hand to help her off the stage. She sits back down next to Harry, her hands trembling.
“Why did you-” he whispers.
“Later,” she hisses.
He taps his leg nervously through the rest of the speeches, zoning out for an entirely different reason now. Hermione had just announced their relationship to the entire wizarding world.
When it’s finally over, and the crowd starts to disperse, he rounds on Hermione, who looks very sheepish. “What the hell, Mi?” he whispers. “I thought you- I mean- you didn’t even want to hold my hand coming up here!”
“I know,” she murmurs. “And then I realized how stupid that was,”
He reels back in shock. “What do you mean?”
“Today sucks enough as it is, Harry,” she huffs. “We shouldn’t have to hide taking comfort in each other as well,”
“Yeah, but at the memorial, Mi? That’s not like you,”
“Tell him the other reason, ‘Mione,” Ron says softly, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.
“Other reason?”
She blushes. “Now everyone will be talking about me saying that in my speech instead of the fact you didn’t give one,”
His heart melts. “Oh honey, you didn’t have to-”
“I did,” she says, her eyes blazing with Gryffindor stubbornness. “I won’t let you be the spectacle anymore, love,”
“Well, I don’t know if you quite accomplished that,” Ron mutters, pointing out the photographers circling. “Looks like Luna’s charm wore off,”
“Oh dear,”
“Come on,” Ron grins, standing up and holding out a hand to them both. “Let’s go pretend like nothing happened,”
Harry takes his hand and is pulled to his feet, Ron wrapping an arm around them both before guiding them over to his family.
They wander from group to group, fulfilling everyone with a whim to talk to them. It’s exhausting and yet the usual dread that follows Harry is eased now that he can lean on Ron’s shoulder or squeeze Hermione’s hand. Everyone stares at them, but he doesn’t care, brushing anyone off who tries to say something.
“Well, Miss Granger,” McGonagall says when they walk up to her. “That was quite a speech,”
“Sorry, professor,” she blushes. “Was it bad?”
“On the contrary,” she chuckles. “I thought we all determined long ago that a little love in the darkest of times is the most important. I am happy for the three of you,”
“Thanks, professor,” Harry smiles.
“I also might recommend watching for an owl this week,” she winks. “Hogwarts bounces back quickly,”
“Oh really?” Hermione asks eagerly.
“But you didn’t hear it from me!” she chortles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak to some of your family members, Mister Weasley. I have a few teacher openings, after all,”
“I am so glad I’m not going back,” Ron says, jaw dropped. “Can you imagine my brothers as my teacher? It’d be mad!”
“It’s going to be by correspondence anyways, Ronald,” Hermione scoffs.
“Yeah, and who do I have dinner with once a week?”
“Well, I’m just saying-”
Harry just laughs at the familiar back-and-forth of their arguing, laying his head on Ron’s shoulder. He feels a shiver at the back of his neck, and he glances around, wondering why. His eyes land on the forest’s edge, and he feels a slight tug, barely there.
“I’ll be back,” he whispers. Ron nods distractedly, but Hermione frowns.
“Harry? Do you want us to-”
“No, no,” he smiles at her softly. “I’ll be just a moment,”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks towards the trees, away from the hustle and bustle of people. He stops just shy of the treeline, feeling the pull, knowing he could walk right to it. Instead, he wraps his hand around the envelope he hastily shoved in his pocket this morning.
To Harry, love, Mum
He glances at the trees again, feeling the urge. He could get the stone and hear her himself, but he shakes it off, opening the paper.
Dear Harry,
Hello, love. How are you? Are you okay?
There are so many things I feel like I should say I don’t know where to start. I guess with the fact that I love you. You, Harry James Potter, are the most loved boy in the universe. Did you know that? You have three parents, three uncles, and aunts, a whole slew of people who just adore you. I hope you’re with them now.
When I suggested to your father that we write these letters, just to be safe, he was appalled, but I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to us and leaving you with nothing, especially after your dad went missing.
I hope that whatever event caused me not to be with you was enough to give you a free and happy life. That you have filled whatever strange destiny the stars have set forth for you and you can just be happy. If not, if you’ve had to face more hardship, more war…or even Tom, I’m so sorry. I believe in you, though, Harry. I believe in all your potential for good, for love, for brilliance. And if you’re perfectly ordinary, then I believe that’s extraordinary as well.
I hope you love Hogwarts like we did. I hope you made friends and learned wonderful things and fell in love. I hope you like treacle tart and chocolate frogs. I even hope that you love Quidditch.
A few things that you might like to know:
-In the library at Potter Manor, on the top shelf of the left bookcase by the window are my journals. I was quite an avid journaler in my Hogwarts days, and I leave them to you in hopes you can get to know us through the pages. There are photos in there as well.
-I’m not sure if you know this, but I have a sister. She’s married with a son about your age. She’s a horrible sister really, but she is your family, so if you ever wish to seek her out, her name is Petunia Dursley.
-We have a cat. An orange tabby I love dearly. He’s quite a grumpy little thing, but I hope he’s with you. I attached a picture. Hopefully, someone took him in. If not, maybe you might like to get one like him.
I want you to know, Harry, that while I am sad at the thought of you reading this letter, I am not scared. I have a friend, Pandora, who is a seer. I went to her while I was pregnant with you and you know what she told me? She said that she foresaw a long and fulfilling life for you. That yes, there would be hard moments, but in the end, you live happily.
And that’s all a mother could ask for. So, in true Potter spirit. Semper Ad Meliora, Harry. Live happily and look always towards better things.
Love, Mum
Harry brushes aside the tears on his cheeks before they can land on the page. He pulls out the picture tucked in the envelope and laughs at the image of what can only be a very grumpy baby Crookshanks. He has no idea how it’s possible but it’s clear as day. He can’t wait to tell Hermione.
He glances at the letter again, realizing that Luna’s mother was the one his mum went to. He would have to share that with her as well.
He looks up again at the forest, letting the breeze passing through echo the tugging he feels inside. The stone calls to him. He can almost feel the weight in his hand, the temptation to turn it and tell them that he got their letters, that he would do as they ask.
But in doing so, would he really?
He takes a glance behind him, back towards the castle. He looks at his partners, his friends, and his new family standing on the hill. The promise of a happy life, a better life.
The promise of better things.
With a single step, he chooses.
Semper Ad Meliora