Prologue part.1
Dean never thought that he would suddenly become passionate about history, especially the wizarding world history. If Professor Binns had taught him anything, is that history was boring. He never liked it. The way of depicting each death as a number, a war as simply an event. Surely there was more to it. He had been through a war, he had lost friends, had been tortured, had fought, lost hope and then fought again. The end was unpredictable. He remembers that sometimes, before Harry came back for the final battle at Hogwarts, he would imagine they were all in a story, like the ones he used to read as a child in comics and illustrated books. They were the good guys, You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters were the bad guys. Of course that Dean would win the war with his friends, of course they would all live, of course he will be happy. But they were not a childish story, they were at war, like his mother had been before him.
He thought it was strange, almost ironic, how his mother had only agreed to send him to Hogwarts because You-Know-Who was supposed to be dead. Dean sometimes believes that if it were only up to her, she would have sent a Howler to Albus Dumbledore to tell him to back the fuck off from her son. And Dumbledore would have, like any wise man who receives a Howler from Mary MacDonald, he would have let Dean live a Muggle life. Dean had wished, just after the war, that to happen. He would wake up, and keep his eyes close and think 'Please, when I open my eyes, make my life Muggle'. That wish never came true and he quietly had to learn how to live when so many were dead, how to live while being on constant edge. Now, he could manage that awful feeling, but he still felt disgusted when he saw the history books and manuals about the war. It was a family matter and they dared to almost make it entertaining.
One day, he was on the way to his mother's house and decided to pick up a few sweets at Honeydukes in the Diagon Alley. Mary had left the wizarding world so many years ago, and in many ways, she did not regret it, but it was impossible not to feel nostalgic over little things, even sweets. After picking up chocolate frogs and cauldron cakes, he hung out a bit. After all those years, he still could not help to find the wizarding world anything but absolutely astounding. That is when he saw it, at Flourish and Botts. The storefront was covered in green ribbons, a big sign announced "Rita Skeeter event at 9PM : how to make history alive". That bitch. She was the Gilderoy Lockhart of the war, she had managed to make money out of deaths and tragedies. She had written a biography of Harry, then one of You-Know-Who, then a book about love stories during the war, which ended up being a series of weird erotic short stories about both some of his old classmates (who either never actually spoke or hated each other) and Death Eaters. She had written an entire book about the final battle of Hogwarts which sounded like a badly written and translated version of the Iliad, as if each Death Eater and magical creature on You-Know-Who's side had made a queue and would attack them one by one. Depending on her need for money and the public opinion, she would either trashtalk or make elaborate praise of Dumbledore. So Dean could not resist to enter the bookshop, it was not 9PM yet, which he was relieved about. He could not stand to see that bitch. The bookstore was decorated as well. No matter where you looked, your gaze would stumble upon a picture of Rita Skeeter either smiling or crying in front of commemorial tombs for the war victims. He took refuge in the children books section. He has always liked children books. They were comforting. You knew the end, everything was destined to be okay.
- Dean Thomas? Is that you in the flesh?
He turned to meet ginger hair. Ginny.
- Hi! he said, surprised. He quickly went over to her to hug her. It was always nice to see any of the Weasleys. They had been through hell but resilience seemed to be a family trait. Dean was both admirative and envious of their ability to persist on living as if it were a family duty to keep going no matter what.
- Oh, you might not want to do that, said Ginny while hugging him back. The Skeeter cunt might be already here. She'll think we're back together, as we're obviously Hogwarts sweetheart.
There it was, the Weasley resilience. She was funny too. His laugh echoed loudly in the quiet bookstore but he could not care less. Today was not the day he would respect a store inviting Skeeter.
- It's awful, isn't it? continued Ginny, pointing at Skeeter's pictures. She makes money out of something awful. Eventually, I get it. People need to learn about what happened but not like that. Not by writing her sexual fantasms about murderers and torturers. A kid stopped me in the streets and asked me if Lucius Malefoy was better in bed than Remus Lupin. It's disgusting what she did with our names in her stupid book.
Dean understood, at least just a bit. In her sick erotic books, she had written a short story about him and Charlie Weasley.
- She is a bitch. A disgusting one. She literally writes about minors having sex with 50 year old death eaters. And it's real people too, agreed Dean.
- Well, the worst thing is, she is the only one to write that famously about the war. No one else talks about it as freely as she does. She only says bullshit but she is out there, opening her mouth.
Dean felt Ginny could not be more right. Of course, he hated history at school. But it was important to remember, to learn, to recognize a war for what it truly is. They made small talk after that. Ginny was well, still doing Quidditch, yes. Actually, training to become professional. And yes, Luna was well too. They were living together. Dean hugged her goodbye and made sure to draw a beard on one of Skeeter's picture on his way out.
Going to his mother's house, he could not get the war out of his head. He had never really talked about it with his mother. They had been there for each other, for each tear or scream in the night. Each time a loud noise scared them, that they bled for even a little injury, they could find comfort in each others look. They knew. He knew that sometimes, the quiet and the silence about what had happened was the best thing possible but it could also be heavy to carry. You were not a war survivor just for a few months after it was ended, you were a war survivor for each day that passed after your friends died. So when a calming silence was installed between them, after a good catching up, Dean asked.
- What was the war like, mom?
Mary stopped chewing on her cake and looked up. Sadness passed over her eyes. Of course. She took a minute before answering, she wanted to speak truthfully and with the right words.
- Dean, I'm not... I don't think I'm one of the brave ones. I fled, I know a bit about the war but I know first and foremost about what it was before. I know about my years in Hogwarts and the usual gossip. People being friends then breaking up. Fighting, snogging, quidditch and academic rivalry, the pranks, the holidays. I don't know about the war, I know about the people.
Dean did not expect this. Mary's voice was calm. She had a sad smile on her face, of course that his mom would know every gossip. He understood her. He knew about his relationship with Ginny, he remembers receiving killer eyes from the Chosen One himself. He remembers becoming best friend with Seamus and being oblivious to their mutual pining. He remembers the stress over the grades. He remembers not figuring out what he wanted to do later. He remembers what matters to him most. So does his mom.
- Then, who were you friends with? I mean, like, did you have best friends?