Rekindled

Choices to be made

The morning dawned quiet and pale over the Burrow, the warmth of the rising sun doing little to lift the lingering heaviness inside. The house was still, the usual cheerful hum of activity replaced by a silence that felt foreign and oppressive.

Harry woke early, unable to stay in bed. He moved through the house quietly, past the creaky stair, careful not to disturb anyone. The kitchen was already occupied when he arrived. Mrs. Weasley stood at the stove, her movements automatic, stirring a pot of porridge. Her face was pale, her eyes puffy from crying.

"Morning, dear," she said softly, not looking up.

"Morning," Harry replied, sitting down at the table.

A long silence passed before she spoke again, her voice trembling. "I was going to make pancakes," she murmured, as if to herself. "Fred loved pancakes." Her hands stilled for a moment before she set down the spoon and turned to face Harry.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said suddenly. "You don't need to see me like this."

"You don't have to apologize," Harry said, his voice low. "You've done so much for me... for all of us."

Mrs. Weasley's lip trembled, but before she could say anything more, Hermione and Ron appeared in the doorway, both looking as bleary-eyed as Harry felt. They mumbled greetings as they sat down, and Mrs. Weasley busied herself with setting bowls on the table.

Once they'd started eating, Mrs. Weasley took a seat, folding her hands in her lap. "I wanted to talk to you all," she said, her tone carefully measured.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up expectantly.

"With everything that's happened, I know... I know you might not want to think about it right now," she continued. "But Professor McGonagall has written to us. She's asking those who can to return to Hogwarts in September, to finish your education and help rebuild."

Ron frowned, setting down his spoon. "Return to Hogwarts?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "It's your choice, of course. But I think you should all consider it."

"I don't know," Ron said, glancing at Harry and Hermione. "It feels weird, doesn't it? Like going back after... everything?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "We didn't finish our seventh year," she said. "I've always thought it was important to finish our education. And... I suppose helping to rebuild could be a way to honor everyone who... who gave their lives for it."

Ron still looked unconvinced, but Harry spoke up. "It might be good to go back," he said slowly. "Hogwarts was our home for so long. Maybe it can be again."

Mrs. Weasley smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in her eyes. "I'll support whatever you decide," she said.

The room fell quiet again, the weight of the decision hanging heavy over them.

---

Upstairs, George's door remained firmly closed. He hadn't come down for breakfast, and no one dared disturb him. The silence from his room was louder than words could ever be.

Harry caught a glimpse of Ginny as she passed through the kitchen, her hair tangled, her expression distant. She paused by the table, her gaze lingering on Harry for a moment before she continued out into the garden.

"She's been taking it hard," Mrs. Weasley said quietly, following Harry's gaze. "We all are."

Harry nodded, his heart heavy.

---

The day passed slowly, the house filled with an uneasy quiet. It wasn't until the late afternoon that Harry found himself outside, walking aimlessly through the overgrown grass near the edge of the garden. He stopped when he saw George sitting on a low stone wall, staring at the horizon.