Custodarium by Tina48

Chapter 1

Harry Potter stood face to face with Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Fred Weasley, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey and more than forty other brave witches and wizards, some of whom he knew by name, some of whom he remembered seeing in the corridors, some of whom he didn't recognise at all. But unlike Harry's rapidly blinking eyes, theirs were unblinking... Unblinking, unmoving, dead.

It was the day of Hogwarts Reopening Ceremony and the memorial had just been revealed. It was a majestic sculpture set in the centre of the Entrance Courtyard. Fifty brass figures stood side by side, wands pointed towards the gate in a protective manner. At their feet lied a large golden plaque with their names, superscripted with the date of the battle and a large Latin Custodes de Hogwarts, "Guardians of Hogwarts".

Snape was there, too. He wasn't included in the original design, but the sculptor owled the concept to Harry, asking for his opinion, and Harry insisted that Severus Snape belonged there with the rest of the war heroes...

In fact, an awful lot of people asked for Harry's opinions nowadays, most of which he was not as eager to give. The first few weeks after the battle flew by in a blur of funerals and Death Eater trials. Haunted by grief by day and nightmares by night, Harry was grateful to drown himself in work when the reconstruction finally started. His already broken heart throbbed when he saw the ruin of what used to be his first real home...

But all was not lost – crowdfunding, namely the very generous donations from Malfoy, Black and Potter vaults (the latter only accepted thanks to Harry's stubbornness), secured enough manpower from Britain and abroad alike to make the castle pristine by the end of the summer.

Harry had spent most of the time working with Hermione and Professor Flitwick to restore the permanent charms in the Great Hall; make candles float again, repair the holes in the ceiling enchantment, reconnect the magical channels that made food from the kitchens appear on the tables, that sort of thing. It wasn't overly complicated, but it required concentration, and that was just what Harry needed to take his mind off the bad stuff. He was fairly certain Headmistress McGonagall had assigned the task to him and Hermione for that reason and appreciated her thoughtfulness a lot.

Several fireplaces had been temporarily connected to the Floo Network for the helpers to go home each night, but there was an offer of accommodation in the Slytherin dormitories as the dungeons were the least damaged part of the castle. Harry took it – he was past petty house rivalry and he had nowhere he'd rather stay anyway: The Burrow was gloomy, Fred's absence still almost palpable, and his shoddy attempt at a relationship with Ginny... That was a sad story of its own. Grimmauld Place was no better, and he wasn't of the mind to go looking for a new home just yet. He was rarely alone at Hogwarts, the trip from the dungeons to the Great Hall was short enough not to bring out too many of his bad memories and seeing freshly repaired spots almost every time he'd made it was uplifting.

Still, he couldn't keep himself distracted constantly. Oftentimes, a small event during the day, a mention, a situation, a sight would be the trigger and he would find himself spiralling, staring into the greenish shimmer of the Black Lake late into the night, suffocating on grief, anger, guilt or anxiety. He faced his demons valiantly, silently, because he was alive and that was more than he'd expected for months. It would feel ungrateful to complain... He clenched his teeth and waited for the restless sleep to claim him, so he could get back to work again tomorrow.

Today, though, Harry woke up in a strange room... Or rather, a very ordinary room, as far as wizarding residences went (reminded him of Ron's), but he didn't recognize it. Curious and curiously not completely freaked out, he left the room and took the stairs behind it to find himself in a cosy kitchen... Not that he'd noticed anything about it, because in its right corner stood a red-haired woman, waving a wand to manage the ingredients levitating around the stove. She glanced around her shoulder, smiling.