the one with the blank canvas

6K 324 103
                                    

"I am capable of great violence
therefore I'm peaceful."

ONE SHIVERING SECOND of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around Harry and me as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward us, and the first to reach us were Ron, Hermione and Draco, and it was their arms that were wrapped around the two of us, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened me. Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then Pansy and Blaise, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and then Sirius and Remus, and Kingsley and McGonagall, and Cedric and Tonks, and Flitwick and Sprout, and I could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing me, pulling me, trying to hug some part of me, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch their Savior and their Protector, the reason it was over at last-

The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Harry and I were an indispensable part of the mingled outpourings of jubilation and mourning, of grief and celebration. They wanted us there with them, their leader and symbol, their savior and their protector, and that neither of us had slept, that we craved the company of only a few of them, seemed to occur to no one. We must speak to the bereaved, clasp their hands, witness their tears, receive their thanks, hear the news now creeping in from every quarter as the morning drew on; that the Imperiused up and down the country had come back to themselves, that Death Eaters were fleeing or else being captured, that the innocent of Azkaban were being released at that very moment, and that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named temporary Minister of Magic . . .

They moved Voldemort's body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away from the bodies of Theodore Nott and about thirty others who had died fighting him. McGonagall had replaced the House tables, but nobody was sitting according to House anymore: All were jumbled together, teachers and pupils, ghosts and parents, centaurs and house-elves, and Firenze lay recovering in a corner, and Grawp peered in through a smashed window, and people were throwing food into his laughing mouth.

After a while, exhausted and drained, Harry and I found ourselves sitting on a bench beside with Ron, Hermione, Draco, Pansy and Blaise. All of us were exhausted. All of us were quiet amidst the bustling of the crowd. Harry was still covered in soot and dust, a gash on his forehead where his glasses cut him when he was killed. Hermione's hair was matted with sweat and blood, and not at all bushy. Ron's white scars from the Brain at the Department of Mysteries seemed enhanced by a multitude because of his red skin, flushing more and more against the cold weather. Pansy's scars were minimal, although there were traces of the war etched across her face in the droplets of her enemy's blood. And Blaise's eyes had never been so dark, haunted by what had happened overnight, still dropping a few tears at the thought of our fallen friend. Draco, well, he wore the smell of blood and war like a perfume, his fingers bruised, caressing the skin at the bad of my hand, where my knuckles had bruised from avenging Theo. His eyes bore shadows and demons as well, but they looked straight ahead, where the house-elves were giving food to everyone, and looking at his previous servant Dobby hand two mugs of tea to Lucius and Narcissa, huddled together quietly.

"I'll marry you," I whispered quietly to Draco. He jerked up, his grey eyes prying away from his parents and turning towards me, into my hazel eyes. "Not yet," I added. "I need to check something before that. . . I need to check something that can happen in 1998. . . If I find everything is alright, I will marry you whenever you want to."

He looked like he understood exactly what I was saying- I had to make sure I wasn't a paradox, that in June 1998, a six month old girl wasn't dropped off at the foot of the Orphanage with nothing but a note. That I didn't exist in two places at once, that I wasn't a cosmic imbalance.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑 Where stories live. Discover now