After the War

Chapter 3

"What comes next?" Hermione asked Professor McGonagall. Harry hid his confusion from the rest of the group. He had simply never thought about what comes next. His future always stopped at Voldemort. His life had always revolved around Tom Riddle. What did come next?

"Well, many of the survivors have headed home, but some have decided to stay to help with the repairs of the castle," she replied. "Kingsley and I are also planning on having a memorial service for everyone who died, hopefully sometime next week."

Kingsley slapped his hands against his knees and stood to tower over the group. "Sorry to leave you all, but I have to return to the Ministry. I'll be back for dinner tonight though." 

He turned to Ron and Hermione and shook both of their hands and muttered something to them that caused the pair to blush profusely. He then strode to Harry and shook his hand.

"Harry, a pleasure, as always," he mumbled diplomatically, before adding, "It's been an honor to hear your story, and thank you for everything. The world can never repay you." Before Harry had time to defend himself from the gratitude, Kingsley was striding towards the portrait hole with a hand raised above his head as a goodbye to the rest of the group.

"Hermione and I are going to take a walk," Ron announced in Kingsley's wake. "We'll catch up with you later." 

The pair left hand in hand out of the portrait hole before Harry could protest, followed by McGonagall who left for the Headmaster's office. Mrs. Weasley stood shakily and went to Mr. Weasley. He wrapped his arms around her and the two talked quietly as the fire roared on behind them. Harry met Ginny's still wet eyes and stood, intending to talk to her even though he had no idea of what to say when Bill appeared in his path, his hands hiding in his jean pockets.

"So, you broke into Gringotts, made a deal with a goblin that involved a goblin-made object, and you planned on reneging on your promise," he teased. "You didn't really take my warnings seriously, huh?"

Ginny's blotchy face turned out of his view as Harry focused on Bill. "Well by the time you warned me, we were already well into the planning stages, all of which naturally flew out the window the second we got to Gringotts," Harry answered with a faint trace of a smile. "And we needed to break in," he added with a shrug. Bill chuckled and planted himself next to Harry and the two returned to silence.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk too," Harry said to no one in particular, yet desperately wanting some time to himself. He turned and marched out into the corridor. With a few hours of sleep under his belt, Harry took his time walking along the hallways, taking in the surroundings that he missed on the way here. He passed portraits that whispered as he walked by, but he thankfully met no one else on his aimless, meandering walk. Once voices began to grow louder, Harry pulled open a random door and shut it closed behind him to find himself in an unknown--but thankfully empty--classroom.

There was a large hole in the far corner of the floor and desks were blown to the sides of the room. Gravel littered the floor and the few unmoved desks were covered in a thick layer of dust. The first home he remembered was suddenly unrecognizable. The building was in shambles, the classes had taught nothing useful this past year, and the place itself had lost its contagious energy that he remembered so fondly. Decisively, Harry turned on his heel and marched his way to the griffin laying feebly on its side at the foot of the circular staircase. He stepped over the sculpture and climbed up the stairs to the imposing wooden door that was waiting for him, as it always did.

Noises were emanating from the door, but the distinct reprimands of McGonagall broke through the barrier. When the voices quieted after a moment, Harry hesitantly knocked. After a few moments of quiet shuffling, McGonagall called "Come in," and Harry pushed into the familiar circular room.