In The Dark [Book Four]

Chapter One:

I absolutely refused to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione insisted that I was being childish about the entire thing but if she knew what I went through while she was on the run with my brother then she would understand. 

The torture was only half of it, my inability to speak properly or use my wand perfectly each time I attempted a spell was a minimal issue compared to what happened the night of the Battle of Hogwarts.

I died; I was known as the Girl Who Came Back to Life and my story had been told in every newspaper, every magazine; I had people from the Daily Prophet wanting to interview me and willing to pay me fifty galleons for my story.

But coming back to life didn't feel like something amazing; I felt as though a large part of me had been left in the Shadow Realm.

It felt like memories were missing though I knew none were; it felt like I had forgotten something so important though I knew I hadn't.  A large part of me felt lost, that was the only way to describe it. 

For the longest time I had wanted to step out from my brother's shadow, he was the Boy Who Lived and now he was the boy who defeated the darkest wizard and won us the war, but I had finally gotten what I wanted with my new title.  I thought I would be happy when people stopped calling me Harry Potter's Younger Sister but instead I was left wanting desperately to hide behind my brother once more.  I wanted to be unnoticed as I once was. I missed my shadows; the ones that hid me from the judgmental or curious eyes of my fellow students, the shadows that protected me. 

But I could never get them back, I knew that. 

So instead all I could do was hide away in the country with the Weasley's; too terrified to go back to the Malfoy's home for fear of being killed by still-loyal Death Eaters.  Their loyalty, even to a dead man, was not something to play with and I was right to fear for my life.  Voldemort and Bellatrix and so many others may be dead but there would always be those that were loyal until their own demise. 

"Amy, you're being childish; you haven't finished your schooling, you still have your seventh year.  Please come back with Ginny and I," Hermione practically begged, her eyes quietly urging me to say yes. 

"Harry and Ron don't have to go," I muttered, folding my arms and letting my nearly-permanent frown bruise my pale face. 

"They're stubborn and besides, both already have jobs in training to be aurors; we three need to finish our seventh year so we can hope to follow in their footsteps.  Besides, Neville will miss you dearly if you don't come back." 

I froze at the mention of his name, the boy who had taken over my mind during my sixth year; his bravery was astounding and the mere image of him during the battle made my chest feel tight and it became hard to breathe.  I let my dark hair slide down to make a barrier between my blushing face and their smirking faces.  I'd not seen Neville since the end of the battle though we had sent letters occasionally back and forth, most of it was nonsense small talk.  Awkward and forced as if we were twelve year olds with our first crush. 

Ginny giggled behind a held up hand, her eyes scrunched up unattractively despite the cuteness of the giggle and the two seemed to have a war about whether one would out-show the other yet they stayed in perfect balance.  Ugly and beautiful, like day and night they complimented each other in the best way. 

"Why is Neville returning, he finished his seventh year?" I questioned behind my curtain of hair, not daring to look up at the two girls for fear they would see just how red my face was.  Judging by how warm I felt, I could only guess my face resembled a ripe tomato. 

"I'm not sure, perhaps you should come back to Hogwarts and ask him yourself," Hermione grinned as they'd obviously gotten my attention and I knew in that moment that I'd already lost the war.  After weeks of them attempting to talk me into it, I would be returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

*

As we exited the Hogwarts Express, I glanced at the students who milled about in front of me. Some were making their way to their carriages though it was mostly the younger students, the second through the fourth or fifth years; the older sixth and seventh years seemed to be staring.

It struck me quickly, the realization of why the older students weren't moving, simply staring. Staring at a carriage pulled by a beast that could only be seen once you've witnessed death firsthand. Turning away from the students who whimpered or cried on their friends shoulders, I walked away from them; my eyes refused to look at them even in passing.

People died, it was life and there was no point in crying over it.

I climbed into a carriage that held three students, all looking to be third years. They whispered to themselves, wondering who was crying over who. Or were they crying just about the memories of last year and what had taken place.

Sighing, I glanced out of the window and saw Ginny and Hermione climbing into a carriage. Ginny was crying and Hermione looked to be on the verge of it as well. It was a weak thing to do, cry over the dead. It couldn't possibly make someone feel better to cry over someone who was long gone, but nor could the dead see your tears; I couldn't understand the reasoning behind crying for a lost soul.

Perhaps that was simply me though, I wasn't normal when it came to emotions; that much was obvious through the entirety of my childhood. Death wasn't this big deal to me, it was simply a natural part of life. Everyone would die, death cared not for age or status or fame; it came for everyone and it didn't matter who caused it or what caused it. I killed people, Harry's killed someone, Ginny probably killed someone, Dumbledore probably killed someone. I have died once and will die again, Harry will die, Ginny will die, Dumbledore is dead. It's just this giant circle and everyone ventures through it. A ritual humans could not escape from.

There was simply no point in crying, as far as I was concerned.

Leaning away from the window of the carriage, I sighed through my nose before glancing at the children which surrounded me. Haunted eyes stared back at me.

I turned my eyes back to the window.

*
The feast was a quiet affair, McGonagall, now headmistress, spoke of the war and those we had lost but what we had gained in return.

Collin Creevey was not worth my freedom, Fred Weasley was not worth my happiness, Remus Lupin's life was worth more than my free-will.

In the end, did it truly even out?

Grunting at the thoughts swirling around in my mind, I pushed the food around on my plate. I didn't look around the Great Hall for fear of seeing empty seats or crying students or blubbering professors; my eyes were glued to a plate of mixed food that looked about as appetizing as a flobber worm.

"We have four new professors this year," McGonagall spoke as we ate. It was different, to be sure, usually the speech ended before we were allowed to eat.  "Our new Potions professor, and head of Slytherin house, Professor Inigo.
Professor Sprout has retired and our new Head of Hufflepuff House and Defense Against The Dark Arts professor is Professor Silmon.
Professor Whitlock will be the new Muggle Studies professor.
Professor Longbottom will be teaching Herbology and will take my place as head of Gryffindor House."

Jerking my head around quickly, I glanced at the professor's table an let my gaze land quickly on Neville Longbottom. His cheeks were red from the embarrassment of having so many students stare at him but soon enough, Hermione and Ginny had started of wave of clapping. In the long run, that probably only made it worse for Neville.

I'd never truly been proud of anyone but myself; however I was quite proud of Neville and his achievements of becoming a professor at the young age of only eighteen.

I hadn't expected that this was how Neville would be returning to Hogwarts but I realized quickly enough that this new revelation of Professor Longbottom was likely to ruin whatever awkward relationship we had started last year.

A student could not be romantically involved with a professor.  Of course, I wasn't one for listening to rules or obeying what I was told to.  But Neville was, and therein laid my issue.

[[A/N: mehhh im not sure if i like this or not so PLEASE leave me comments and tell me what you think. It would be so helpful.  Remember, this is simply a short story that'll only be like 10 chapters so there will be tons of time skips.]]