the boy soldier

01- new beginnings

Just a note before you start: Hello! This fic has sensitive topics that not everyone may find suitable. 

I also would like to explain that each chapter has an accompanying song that should set the mood as you read! Thanks :) happy reading

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Some days were a lot harder to cope with. Harder to get through. Harder to bear the seemingly normal happenings of everyday life. It felt incredibly wrong to him that after all that had occurred, and what everyone had endured, that so many people could just simultaneously begin to move on from it.

Harry Potter did not like to dwell on the past, but the past constantly felt like it was trying to dwell on him. No matter how much he tried to repress, there were signs of the struggles of last year everywhere. And no matter how much everyone pretended to be okay, he could sense the changes in everyone else as well. He knew he was not alone in thinking this, but no one talked about it anymore. It was becoming just as taboo to speak of the deceased and of the horrific things people went through as it was previously to speak the Dark Lord's name. Voldemort. He was dead, he was really dead this time. This Harry knew. He couldn't feel his presence anymore, it was just a void within himself that was unfillable. A barren place that would always be sterile and unable to hold life. Harry also knew this. He would be gone forever materially, but the filthiness of that part of Voldemort that had lived within Harry would always be mocking him.

Perhaps one day everything would completely shift to this new reality. That the Dark Lord's looming existence wouldn't shroud the wizarding world anymore. And it seemed more and more likely everyday that people were trying to forget it had ever been there. And even though Harry had suffered through it, perhaps more than others, he found himself not wanting to forget it. He thought about it constantly, seeing faces he was trying so desperately to keep fresh in his mind. Faces that he knew would soon fade from the freshness that life had afforded them. Fred's, Nymphadora's, Remus's, Snape's, even Colin and Lavender's faces.

Harry knew that what they had done, by ending Voldemort's life, had been a worthy cause for imperative reasons. But he found himself wondering, 'at what cost'?

So as many witches and wizards began to volunteer to help rebuild and fix the destroyed parts of Hogwarts, Harry did as well. But with one specific request, which McGonagall granted him graciously.

Refusing to use magic to do his part of the repairment process, Harry began to fix the entrance hallway brick by brick. The first week his hands bled freely and his fingers calloused. He let them bleed. As repentance. For the things he had done, and especially for all the things he didn't.

And after the second week, he began putting up their portraits. All fifty of them. The Fallen Fifty. The fifty who had come to his aid, and stood by his side, and died for him and for the greater wizarding world. He wanted all of the future generations of Hogwarts students to walk in on their first day of school and see the faces of those that gave up their lives for the good of humanity. To impress the importance that this institution held, and the legacy it would continue to maintain.

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All the students had been recalled for another year. So Harry looked forward to the coming fall season of having Hogwarts bustling about with students again, and knew it would be bittersweet.

Hermione had been staying at the Burrow with Ron through the summer, consoling him, providing help around the house, and general support to the mourning family. Harry had visited and paid his respects, but had felt it was not the time to make a common occurrence of these visits. The wounds were just too fresh, and he felt like his presence was not welcome in the atmosphere yet. He knew that no one would complain if he was there, but he still waited. To give space, and grant time.

McGonagall had provided Harry with the ability to stay in his old dorm room over summer, which had thankfully been spared in the battle. So he had settled into the nearly empty dormitory and began providing all the help he could give around the castle. There were a few other people staying in their old dormitories as well. Neville was still sharing the room with Harry, but had granted him distance and respectful silence most of the last few months. It was nice having him there though, and even if they didn't carry the same conversations anymore, they still relished each other's company.

There were a few other Gryffindors around, but they also seemed to stay in seclusion for the most part. Six Hufflepuffs had stayed back voluntarily to assist in the rebuilding of their dormitory, which had unfortunately not been spared during the battle. Only four Ravenclaw students had stayed for the summer, two were siblings whose parents had been murdered by a Snatcher for no reason at all. And only one Slytherin had decided to live in Hogwarts till school began again. Draco Malfoy. It hadn't really been his choice to remain there, but after the papers had begun reporting his parent's arrest and the seizure of his house and belongings, he had shown up at Hogwarts and McGonagall had taken him in.

The initial week of clean up after the battle had had a surprising turnout of help, with a good majority of the student body volunteer groups being Slytherin. Many had felt it had been incredibly unfair to have been barred from the battle and shunned by the rest of the student body just because of their House's affiliations, and Harry, grudgingly at first, had agreed with them. So they approached the Ministry and requested reparations on part of the school, and as a result, House mingling had been implemented for the following year. They knew this wouldn't end all house rivalry forever, but the feeling of complete separacy between the Houses would hopefully no longer exist.

Harry had tried to approach Malfoy, he even offered to be a witness at his parent's trials. Malfoy hadn't even looked at him. He just stared down at his meal and played with his food until Harry left in disappointment and exasperation. Not everyone can forgive and forget, Harry supposed.

As the weeks went on and the weather became almost unbearably hot, Harry realized he had begun to see Malfoy around the grounds less and less. So little in fact that he approached McGonagall about it.

After dinner one night, Harry called after her as she was leaving, "Professor! Professor. Yes, sorry to bother you, but is Malfoy, er, is Draco Malfoy still staying at Hogwarts?"

She eyed him quizzically before replying, "Unless something has happened within the last hour without my knowledge, he is. Why, is there a problem?"

"No, no problem. Professor, sorry. Just wondering. Haven't seen him around."

"I'm sure he has much on his mind."

Harry didn't know a whole lot about Malfoy's personal life, but he could easily assume that much was true. Harry could only guess the things that could be plaguing the boys thoughts, but they weren't pretty. What Malfoy had experienced was a much different part of the war than Harry had known. But he was as touched and impressed upon by Voldemort's presence as Harry had been, surely. He had been at such close contact with the Dark Lord himself, for so long. Harry tried to be understanding in his thoughts towards Malfoy, but always forced himself to remember the role the boy had played in the war. He had been a pawn in Voldemort's plan, he had held a significant part in so much pain. Other's could forgive him as the boy soldier wrongfully inducted into the wrong side, but Harry would not allow any such kindness. Malfoy the broken boy. The misunderstood Death Eater. Puppeted by the Dark Lord.