** Fic: In a year we all will be together ** for Chthonya
Title: In a year we all will be together
Author: reverdybrune
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1600
Character(s): Aberforth, Andromeda, McGonagall, Harry
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: Recipient asked for the Christmas after the war and McGonagall and/or minor adult characters. I’m hoping this fits the bill.
Aberforth
Hogwarts doesn’t reopen the year after the battle. There isn’t enough time in the few months between it being blown apart and the first of September.
There are still a bunch of "students" in the pub, though. Aberforth can’t go two days without seeing a Weasley, and Potter is in here at least once a week with one or more of them. Ab doesn’t know why they insist on coming here when they never used to before. Last time he had this many students in his pub was when they came in here to start their little anti-Voldemort army, which they named after his damned brother. After all these years he shouldn’t still be surprised at the level of hero-worship Albus inspires. Still, it’s aggravating. He wishes they would all clear out. They’re presumably still here to help with rebuilding the school, but Ab hasn’t actually been to Hogwarts in months.
He hears gossip and rumors from his patrons, as usual, though with the war over they’re decidedly more mundane. McGonagall is to be the new headmistress when the school reopens. Shacklebolt’s been tapped for Minister of Magic. Potter is going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Potter is playing professional Quidditch. Potter is taking over the Aurors. Potter is marrying Hermione Granger and moving to America. Ab doubts any of the rumors about Potter are true. Last time Potter was in the pub he didn’t seem interested in anything except the Weasley girl under his arm. Potter doesn’t speak to Aberforth except to order drinks, however, which is the way Ab likes it. Ab doesn’t think he could handle the smug I-told-you-so he’d surely get from the very much alive boy-who-killed-Voldemort. He’s fairly surprised, therefore, to find an owl at his window a week before Christmas with the following note:
You are invited to a Christmas Eve celebration.
Thursday, December 24th.
7 PM
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London
As if he’d set foot in that Black excuse for a house. He never went when the Order used it as headquarters so why should he now? Besides, they’ll probably all be toasting his brother’s memory and celebrating their victory, as if the world isn’t the same place it’s always been, where it’s all too easy for some maniac with a taste for power to convince people to murder their family and friends.
Andromeda
It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that Ted is gone and so is Dora and she is here to raise her grandson by herself. Her grandson with heroes for parents, as much good as that will ever do him.
She misses them terribly, Ted and Dora, and even Remus, whom she never fully trusted. For a while when she wakes, she still expects Ted to be next to her. Still expects to find Dora in the kitchen holding a cup of tea. But it’s just her and Teddy, and she’s not sure how she can possibly do this.
Harry comes over at least once a week. He tells her how the rebuilding is going at the school, about his quidditch games and his dates with Ginny. He doesn’t talk about the future, and she doesn’t ask. They take Teddy to the muggle park down the road and push him in the little swing. He has Ted’s laugh and Remus’s smile, and Dora’s ability to brighten the world with his hair.
She writes letters to Narcissa but she doesn’t mail any of them. She doesn’t burn them either, though, like she used to, so maybe it’s a start.
When Harry comes over the first week in December, he invites her to Christmas Eve dinner… at Grimmauld Place. She stares at him silently for a second and he flushes, realizing.
"I… I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s just, Ron and Hermione and I. We wanted to have Christmas this year since we just moved in there and everything and I though it would be good to have everyone together. I thought about getting another house but Kingsley said I should stick with Grimmauld because of all the security in case there are still Death Eaters out to get me or something and I…"
"It’s alright," she tells him, and maybe it is.
Minerva
She doesn’t move her things into Albus’s study. It will never be Snape’s to her, despite what Potter said. Last year… she is not yet ready to forgive. But it will never truly be hers either, not after the way Albus was forced to leave it.
Since the school hasn’t opened yet, hardly anyone notices that she still uses the Transfiguration Professor’s quarters. There isn’t a new one who needs them, and besides that she hasn’t been formally appointed headmistress. When she points this out to Filius, he tells her to stop being ridiculous.
She supervises the restoration of the school along with Filius and Pomona, replacing centuries-old enchantments and conjuring new walls. They expand all the dormitories, as well, since next year they’ll have all the students who weren’t able to attend before, in addition to the new crop of first years. It will be difficult, but they’ll manage. They always do.
Many of the students have stayed to help with the rebuilding. Potter, Granger, various Weasleys, Longbottom, Lovegood… they’re all here most days, eating meals in the great hall and sometimes sleeping in the dormitories. Hogwarts is populated not with children, but with soldiers, though she supposes it’s been that way for years. Dumbledore’s Army!
In December, Potter invites her to spend Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place.
"We’re inviting everyone, the Order, the D.A., Hermione’s parents and Teddy and Andromeda and all. Can you come? I’ve already asked Kingsley if he can send a couple Aurors over here to keep watch if you do."
A graceful no is half formed in her head before she realizes that she really has no reason to say it. Albus is dead, there are no children at Hogwarts whom she needs to protect, and she has not been to a Christmas party since the Yule Ball.
Harry
It was Ron’s idea. Hermione’d been worried about how she was going to spend Christmas since her parents wanted her to come home but she wanted to see the Weasleys and everyone else too. She felt guilty about all the time she’d missed with her parents during the war, and with the whole Australia business, and everything.
"Well, why don’t we just invite everyone to come here? It’s big enough," said Ron, and that was the beginning.
Harry is still not sure it was a great idea. There was the whole business with Andromeda. He’s still mortified that he didn’t think that of course she wouldn’t exactly be excited to come back to the house of people who disowned her any more that Sirius had been. Still, she’d said she’d come.
Harry’s misgivings had intensified when Hermione had decided that they ought to cook dinner, rather than Mrs. Weasley, since they were having it at their house, after all. (She absolutely refused to let Kreacher do it). Harry might’ve cooked Dudley’s bacon when he was younger but he didn’t think he could live up to Mrs. Weasley’s standard, a feeling which was intensified by Kreacher adding things to the soup he was making whenever he thought Harry wasn’t looking. (Harry had told him he was free to do so when Hermione wasn’t listening.)
However, once the first guests started arriving he forgot about his reservations. Luna, in gleaming silver robes and her father dressed as what appeared to be Santa Claus. Hermione’s parents nervously presenting a bottle of wine. Neville, with his grandmother still in her vulture hat. The Weasleys, all in handknit sweaters, even Percy. Andromeda, holding a smiling Teddy with turquoise hair. Professor McGonagall, Kingsley, Hestia Jones, Ernie and Susan. Everyone from the Order or the D.A. Even Aberforth slips in, scowling, just before dinner.
They eat (the food isn’t half bad-probably due to Kreacher’s additions). They share stories of the past few months. They argue about the best way to fix the ministry (Hermione and Kingsley continuing the conversation long after everyone else has tired of it). They speculate about how Hogwarts will get by with all the extra students. They wonder if anyone will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, now that it is (presumably) uncursed.
As the night wears on, they toast the dead. It’s George who makes the first one:
"To Fred," he says, "the greatest prankster that ever lived. And The Marauders, who taught him everything he knew."
It’s a good toast, as are the ones that follow it. Harry doesn’t make any of his own.
He knows people find it odd that he’s moved in here. Everyone expects him to be brooding or angry or grieving like he’s been for so long, and maybe he should be. The thing is, it’s easier for him than it is for the others. Dumbledore said it’s the unknown we’re afraid of when we think about death, and that’s probably true. It’s not unknown for Harry anymore. He doesn’t need to hope that Sirius and Remus and his parents and Dumbledore are alright. He’s seen for himself, and he’ll see them again. It’s just like Luna said, though she never needed any proof.
So he’s alright, really. Better than he’s ever been before, if he’s going to be honest. Contentment is an odd feeling, when you’re used to every day being about making it to the next one. Having everyone he loves here, on Christmas, and knowing the ones he’s lost will be waiting when he goes, well, he’s not sure anyone can ask for much more than that.
Author: reverdybrune
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1600
Character(s): Aberforth, Andromeda, McGonagall, Harry
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: Recipient asked for the Christmas after the war and McGonagall and/or minor adult characters. I’m hoping this fits the bill.
Aberforth
Hogwarts doesn’t reopen the year after the battle. There isn’t enough time in the few months between it being blown apart and the first of September.
There are still a bunch of "students" in the pub, though. Aberforth can’t go two days without seeing a Weasley, and Potter is in here at least once a week with one or more of them. Ab doesn’t know why they insist on coming here when they never used to before. Last time he had this many students in his pub was when they came in here to start their little anti-Voldemort army, which they named after his damned brother. After all these years he shouldn’t still be surprised at the level of hero-worship Albus inspires. Still, it’s aggravating. He wishes they would all clear out. They’re presumably still here to help with rebuilding the school, but Ab hasn’t actually been to Hogwarts in months.
He hears gossip and rumors from his patrons, as usual, though with the war over they’re decidedly more mundane. McGonagall is to be the new headmistress when the school reopens. Shacklebolt’s been tapped for Minister of Magic. Potter is going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Potter is playing professional Quidditch. Potter is taking over the Aurors. Potter is marrying Hermione Granger and moving to America. Ab doubts any of the rumors about Potter are true. Last time Potter was in the pub he didn’t seem interested in anything except the Weasley girl under his arm. Potter doesn’t speak to Aberforth except to order drinks, however, which is the way Ab likes it. Ab doesn’t think he could handle the smug I-told-you-so he’d surely get from the very much alive boy-who-killed-Voldemort. He’s fairly surprised, therefore, to find an owl at his window a week before Christmas with the following note:
You are invited to a Christmas Eve celebration.
Thursday, December 24th.
7 PM
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London
As if he’d set foot in that Black excuse for a house. He never went when the Order used it as headquarters so why should he now? Besides, they’ll probably all be toasting his brother’s memory and celebrating their victory, as if the world isn’t the same place it’s always been, where it’s all too easy for some maniac with a taste for power to convince people to murder their family and friends.
Andromeda
It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that Ted is gone and so is Dora and she is here to raise her grandson by herself. Her grandson with heroes for parents, as much good as that will ever do him.
She misses them terribly, Ted and Dora, and even Remus, whom she never fully trusted. For a while when she wakes, she still expects Ted to be next to her. Still expects to find Dora in the kitchen holding a cup of tea. But it’s just her and Teddy, and she’s not sure how she can possibly do this.
Harry comes over at least once a week. He tells her how the rebuilding is going at the school, about his quidditch games and his dates with Ginny. He doesn’t talk about the future, and she doesn’t ask. They take Teddy to the muggle park down the road and push him in the little swing. He has Ted’s laugh and Remus’s smile, and Dora’s ability to brighten the world with his hair.
She writes letters to Narcissa but she doesn’t mail any of them. She doesn’t burn them either, though, like she used to, so maybe it’s a start.
When Harry comes over the first week in December, he invites her to Christmas Eve dinner… at Grimmauld Place. She stares at him silently for a second and he flushes, realizing.
"I… I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s just, Ron and Hermione and I. We wanted to have Christmas this year since we just moved in there and everything and I though it would be good to have everyone together. I thought about getting another house but Kingsley said I should stick with Grimmauld because of all the security in case there are still Death Eaters out to get me or something and I…"
"It’s alright," she tells him, and maybe it is.
Minerva
She doesn’t move her things into Albus’s study. It will never be Snape’s to her, despite what Potter said. Last year… she is not yet ready to forgive. But it will never truly be hers either, not after the way Albus was forced to leave it.
Since the school hasn’t opened yet, hardly anyone notices that she still uses the Transfiguration Professor’s quarters. There isn’t a new one who needs them, and besides that she hasn’t been formally appointed headmistress. When she points this out to Filius, he tells her to stop being ridiculous.
She supervises the restoration of the school along with Filius and Pomona, replacing centuries-old enchantments and conjuring new walls. They expand all the dormitories, as well, since next year they’ll have all the students who weren’t able to attend before, in addition to the new crop of first years. It will be difficult, but they’ll manage. They always do.
Many of the students have stayed to help with the rebuilding. Potter, Granger, various Weasleys, Longbottom, Lovegood… they’re all here most days, eating meals in the great hall and sometimes sleeping in the dormitories. Hogwarts is populated not with children, but with soldiers, though she supposes it’s been that way for years. Dumbledore’s Army!
In December, Potter invites her to spend Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place.
"We’re inviting everyone, the Order, the D.A., Hermione’s parents and Teddy and Andromeda and all. Can you come? I’ve already asked Kingsley if he can send a couple Aurors over here to keep watch if you do."
A graceful no is half formed in her head before she realizes that she really has no reason to say it. Albus is dead, there are no children at Hogwarts whom she needs to protect, and she has not been to a Christmas party since the Yule Ball.
Harry
It was Ron’s idea. Hermione’d been worried about how she was going to spend Christmas since her parents wanted her to come home but she wanted to see the Weasleys and everyone else too. She felt guilty about all the time she’d missed with her parents during the war, and with the whole Australia business, and everything.
"Well, why don’t we just invite everyone to come here? It’s big enough," said Ron, and that was the beginning.
Harry is still not sure it was a great idea. There was the whole business with Andromeda. He’s still mortified that he didn’t think that of course she wouldn’t exactly be excited to come back to the house of people who disowned her any more that Sirius had been. Still, she’d said she’d come.
Harry’s misgivings had intensified when Hermione had decided that they ought to cook dinner, rather than Mrs. Weasley, since they were having it at their house, after all. (She absolutely refused to let Kreacher do it). Harry might’ve cooked Dudley’s bacon when he was younger but he didn’t think he could live up to Mrs. Weasley’s standard, a feeling which was intensified by Kreacher adding things to the soup he was making whenever he thought Harry wasn’t looking. (Harry had told him he was free to do so when Hermione wasn’t listening.)
However, once the first guests started arriving he forgot about his reservations. Luna, in gleaming silver robes and her father dressed as what appeared to be Santa Claus. Hermione’s parents nervously presenting a bottle of wine. Neville, with his grandmother still in her vulture hat. The Weasleys, all in handknit sweaters, even Percy. Andromeda, holding a smiling Teddy with turquoise hair. Professor McGonagall, Kingsley, Hestia Jones, Ernie and Susan. Everyone from the Order or the D.A. Even Aberforth slips in, scowling, just before dinner.
They eat (the food isn’t half bad-probably due to Kreacher’s additions). They share stories of the past few months. They argue about the best way to fix the ministry (Hermione and Kingsley continuing the conversation long after everyone else has tired of it). They speculate about how Hogwarts will get by with all the extra students. They wonder if anyone will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, now that it is (presumably) uncursed.
As the night wears on, they toast the dead. It’s George who makes the first one:
"To Fred," he says, "the greatest prankster that ever lived. And The Marauders, who taught him everything he knew."
It’s a good toast, as are the ones that follow it. Harry doesn’t make any of his own.
He knows people find it odd that he’s moved in here. Everyone expects him to be brooding or angry or grieving like he’s been for so long, and maybe he should be. The thing is, it’s easier for him than it is for the others. Dumbledore said it’s the unknown we’re afraid of when we think about death, and that’s probably true. It’s not unknown for Harry anymore. He doesn’t need to hope that Sirius and Remus and his parents and Dumbledore are alright. He’s seen for himself, and he’ll see them again. It’s just like Luna said, though she never needed any proof.
So he’s alright, really. Better than he’s ever been before, if he’s going to be honest. Contentment is an odd feeling, when you’re used to every day being about making it to the next one. Having everyone he loves here, on Christmas, and knowing the ones he’s lost will be waiting when he goes, well, he’s not sure anyone can ask for much more than that.