Resurrection (A Harry Potter, After the War Fanfiction)

May 4, 1998

The date is May 4, 1998. Just two days ago, the Battle of Hogwarts was fought. Both sides battled for hours and hours upon end but finally, the war had been won. Voldemort was no longer wreaking havoc on the wizarding world; his loyal followers reduced to almost nothing. There were heavy casualties on both sides: Remus Lupin, Fred Weasly, Nymphadora Tonks, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevy, Severus Snape, Vincent Crabbe, Bellatrix Lestrange, and numerous others gave up their lives for the beliefs, whether it was to defeat the Dark Lord or in support of him. Because of the sacrifice of those who died to protect the Wizarding World, the entire world, both muggle and magic, had been saved.

Teddy Lupin will grow up in a world not knowing who his parents were. Molly Weasley will knit sweaters for her son until she could no longer complete it, constantly wishing that he was still with them. George will forever be missing a piece of his heart, a piece that was so mercilessly ripped away. Denis Creevy lost his only brother, his guide, his mentor that introduced him to the wizarding world. Narcissa Black lost her sister; yes, the sisters had their differences, but that did not cause the pain of loss to subside. Draco Malfoy lost one of the only true friends he had made during his years at Hogwarts; it was almost like losing a part of himself. Padma and Pavarti Patil lost their best friend because of the claws of Fenrir Greyback, a kill that was completely and unnecessarily cruel.

The date is May 4, 1998. The survivors of the Battle were continuing the restoration of the once beautiful castle and were continuing to lay the dead to rest properly. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, looked worse than he ever had. His neck and chin were scruffy, there were dark purple circles under his puffy eyes, his normally messy hair even more scraggly than usual. He had not had more than a few minutes alone. Ginny was constantly at his side (he loves her, but even the Boy who Lived needs his space); Molly was constantly fretting over him (of course he loved the woman he thought of as his mother); everyone kept asking him if he was okay or thanking him for saving the world. He needed time to process the events of the last 48 hours, but he did not have space.

When Harry finally had a moment away, he slipped off and began wandering the castle lost in thought. He passed the Room of Requirement, who's inside had been charred from the fire and where Gregory Goyle's incinerated body lied. He felt a pang of guilt for not being able to save the boy, but he kept walking. He walked through a corridor that he immediately recognized as the corridor where Fred had died. Another pang in his chest, but he persisted in his walk. The 7th floor corridor adjacent to Dumbledore's office had the wall completely exposed to the outside. He tried not to think about the fact that this was where Remus and Tonks had breathed their last breaths. Tears threatened to spill down his face until he approached the gargoyle entrance to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle turned without requiring a password, and Harry climbed the stairs that he had climbed so many times in the last seven years.

The office appeared to have been untouched by the horrors of the Battle. It was as if Harry had entered another dimension, and he half-expected his late headmaster to walk out at any time. Harry sat on the stone steps leading up to the desk. The Boy Who Lived, the boy who had been forced to grow up too quickly to save the world, let his tears fall. He thought about Remus, who was one of the closest people to a Father he had. He thought about Tonks, and how her spunk and unique personality had made them all smile during the darkest of times. He cried for Teddy, who would never know his parents. He mourned for Fred, his brother. He mourned for Gregory Goyle, who had simply made the wrong decision to please his parents. He mourned for Lavender Brown, who had such a bright future snatched away from her so cruelly. He mourned for the Fallen Fifty; fifty people who were not going to get married, see their kids grow up or even complete their schooling.

Time had passed and the windows turned black and the sky was dotted with stars. The Boy Who Lived's tears had dried, but he still felt like he was being stabbed with a knife directly into his heart. He knew he was not the only one who felt this way, but he had no idea how to help himself or others move on from this. While thinking about possible solutions, Minerva McGonagall entered the office. She saw one of her favorite students looking so beat up and exhausted. She sat down next to him without saying a word, but the gesture meant more to Harry than any words could have. He looked at her and gave her a weak smile, and she pulled the young man in for a hug, hoping that he would not see the tears threatening to fall down her face.

"You did good, Potter" she whispered to him. He hugged her even tighter, but McGonagall did not shy away from the contact.

"Professor, I just don't know what to do. Everywhere I turn I'm reminded of Remus or Tonks or Fred", tears pooling in his eyes as he spoke. She gave him a small smile, then pulled a small box out of the pocket of her robes and placed it in his hand.

"I think that this may help with that."  

Harry looked at the box in his hand, a little bit scared about its contents. He looked and McGonagall and she gave him a smile. Harry took a deep breath and opened the small box.

The Resurrection Stone was sitting, nestled in a small bit of fabric, inside of the small black box. The sight of it immediately brought tears to Harry's eyes as he remembered seeing Remus, Sirius, and his parents before he gave himself up to Voldemort. He blinked the tears away and looked back up at McGonagall.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked her. She had a knowing smile on her face.

"I am quite sure you already know the answer to that, Mr. Potter." He realized that he did know exactly what McGonagall meant.

"Professor, with all due respect, this is a bad idea. You know how this ended for the second brother; he ended up going mad and killing himself! I cannot afford to lose anyone else". Harry looked away from his professor. He knew he could never bring anyone back from the dead; it was completely unnatural and he knew it would be damaging to others. He did not think he could handle losing anyone else.

"I know that you saw your parents that night, Potter. Were they completely there? Were they completely back from the dead? No. That is exactly my intention with using the stone", McGonagall explained. She knew the idea seemed far-fetched and potentially problematic, but the world needed some help being put back together. She never intended for the stone to bring back the dead; all she desired was for a sort of simulation so that people could say a final goodbye to their loved ones.

Harry pondered the idea for a while, but he realized that McGonagall was right. If he had been able to say goodbye to his parents, if he had been able to say goodbye to Sirius, he might have had a completely different outlook on life. He looked up at Minerva with a small, yet determined smile.

"Okay, let's do it". 

~~~~~

Hi everyone! I hope that you enjoyed this first chapter! I know its a long one, but I do not plan on having this work be a 100-chapter ordeal. I am super excited for what is to come, and I hope you are too! 

XXX, Miranda