Chapter Text
An eerie calm hung over the air, carrying with it the lingering scent of blood and death. Amidst the silence stood an ancient castle—or rather, what remained of it.
To an ordinary person, the crumbling fortress might have appeared abandoned or haunted. But to those with magic coursing through their veins, these ruins were far more than broken stone. They were a monument to unimaginable loss.
The towers and turrets that had once stretched proudly towards the heavens now stood shattered, their tops blasted away. The grand entrance had been reduced to a jagged breach in the stone, the great doors that had once welcomed generations of witches and wizards lying splintered amongst piles of rubble.
The destruction was not confined to the entrance alone. It scarred every corner of the castle. The lake that embraced one side of the grounds had turned dark with soot and blood, while the Quidditch pitch in the distance had been reduced to little more than a charred expanse of earth. Everywhere one looked, the aftermath of devastation was impossible to ignore.
And devastation was exactly what had befallen this place.
A lone figure stood at the edge of the forest bordering the castle grounds, silently taking in the ruins before them.
The figure was wrapped in a long travelling cloak that concealed most of his features. From his broad frame alone, it was evident he was a man. He stood motionless, his gaze fixed upon the shattered remains of the castle—the place where he had forged lifelong friendships, discovered the wonders of magic, and, for the better part of a year, found a home.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The castle had been more than just a school. It had been a sanctuary.
The young man looked no older than eighteen. Years of hardship had given him broad shoulders and a sturdy build, but they had also left their mark. Unruly brown hair brushed against his forehead, while dark circles beneath weary brown eyes spoke of countless sleepless nights. A layer of unkempt stubble shadowed his jaw, and the sorrow etched into his face made him seem far older than his years.
His name was Neville Longbottom.
As he did every day, Neville stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, silently taking in the ruins before him. His eyes wandered over the broken walls and fallen towers, but his mind remained trapped in the memories of the night that had reduced Hogwarts to this.
Six months...
Six months had passed since they had dared to hope the war would finally come to an end. It had ended, yes—but not in the way any of them had imagined.
His gaze drifted towards the place where the Astronomy Tower had once stood. It was there, barely half an hour after the Battle of Hogwarts had ended, that he had found the love of his life.
Dead.
Fury surged through him as the memory resurfaced. That single battle had stolen so many of the people he loved, leaving behind nothing but grief and unanswered questions.
If only it had never happened.
With a final glance at the ruins, Neville decided it was time to leave. He lingered for a brief moment, committing the broken silhouette of Hogwarts to memory before turning away and making his way towards the castle gates. Once outside, he looked back one last time before vanishing with a crack.
He reappeared in a narrow alleyway nestled between two rows of houses. Stepping onto the main road, he crossed over and followed the familiar route to the modest flat he shared with his two closest friends. A network of Muggle-Repelling Charms and protective wards concealed the place from unwanted visitors, ensuring they remained hidden from anyone who might still be searching for them.
Neville knocked on the door.
A moment later, Luna Lovegood answered. After he gave the agreed-upon security response, she stepped aside to let him in before carefully locking the door behind him. The aroma of breakfast drifted in from the kitchen, where she had evidently been cooking.
The flat was small but comfortable—two modest bedrooms, a single bathroom, and a cosy living room that flowed into the kitchen. Finding it had been surprisingly easy. With a few well-placed Confunding Charms on the landlord—a feat Luna had accomplished with remarkable ease—they had managed to secure the property without attracting suspicion. It had been their home for the past six months.
"Where's Gin?" Neville asked, shrugging off his travelling cloak.
"She's in the bedroom," Luna replied. "She was sorting through some of our old things."
"Our old things?" Neville repeated, frowning.
Before Luna could elaborate, Ginny Weasley emerged from the hallway.
"Hey, Nev," she greeted with a faint smile.
"Hey," Neville replied. "Luna said you were going through some old things?"
"Yes," Ginny replied. "Though it isn't mine. Its Hermione's."
Silence settled over the room as the three of them were once again reminded of the friend they had lost.
After a moment, Ginny spoke again.
"You remember the beaded bag Hermione always carried with her last year? The one with the Undetectable Extension Charm?"
Neville and Luna nodded.
"I found it among her things." She hesitated. "I know I probably shouldn't go through it, but... I couldn't help wondering what exactly the three of them were doing during their mission."
"Did you find anything?" Luna asked gently.
"There were clothes." Ginny's voice caught for a moment before she forced herself to continue. "And a portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black."
Neville frowned. "What on earth did they need that for?"
"My thoughts exactly." She paused before adding, "I also found a diary... or at least something similar. I never knew Hermione kept one, which makes me think she only started writing in it during the hunt for the Horcruxes. Whatever made her write it must have been important.
"It took me quite a while to break through all the protective charms and passwords she'd placed on it just to make the writing visible. I'm wondering if she recorded anything about their mission."
Luna tilted her head thoughtfully.
"So... are you going to read it?"
"I think I will." Ginny took a slow breath. "If it's personal, I'll close it and leave it alone. But if it contains information about their mission..." She looked at the other two. "Harry, Ron and Hermione were planning to tell us everything eventually."
Neville nodded in understanding. "Then let us know when you start. We'd like to hear it too."
"I will."
With that, Ginny disappeared into her room to get ready for the day. A few minutes later, she returned, and the three shared a quiet breakfast before settling into the living room. Neville claimed one end of the sofa while Luna curled up comfortably beside the window, and Ginny sat cross-legged on the floor with Hermione's journal resting in her lap. None of them spoke. Each was lost in memories they wished they could forget.
It had become part of their routine.
Surviving the battle had not been a blessing. It had been a burden.
The war had claimed countless lives, but those left behind carried wounds no spell could mend. Neville, Luna and Ginny had somehow survived, while nearly everyone they held dear had perished. Why fate had spared them when so many better people had fallen remained a question none of them could answer.
More than once, each of them had longed to join their family and friends beyond the veil. Yet whenever that temptation grew too strong, they remembered the sacrifices that had been made to keep them alive.
That thought alone was enough to stop them.
It was never enough to silence the guilt.
Neville lifted his head from where it rested against the arm of the sofa and glanced at his companions.
Luna occupied the opposite end of the couch, her silver-grey eyes fixed on nothing in particular, the familiar dreamy expression still gracing her features.
She looked thinner than she once had. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, and her dirty blonde hair had been hastily twisted into a messy bun. Yet the absent-minded look she so often wore no longer concealed the grief lingering beneath the surface of her eyes.
Luna had never loved many people, but those she did, she loved with her whole heart. Her father. Ron. Hermione. Harry. Now they were all gone.
Neville knew better than anyone that if anything were ever to happen to him or Ginny, Luna would finally shatter. They were the only family she had left.
In all the years he had known her, he had seen her cry only once.
At Xenophilius Lovegood's funeral.
For everyone else, she had remained remarkably composed, convinced that grieving openly was not what they would have wanted for her. Neville often wondered if being an empath had helped her endure such unbearable loss. Spending a lifetime feeling the emotions of others must surely have taught her how to carry pain without letting it consume her.
At least she had never found the love of her life.
It was a cruel thought, but one he couldn't help feeling grateful for. Neville knew all too well what it meant to lose the person who held your heart. He wouldn't wish that agony upon anyone.
His gaze shifted to the third person in the room.
Ginny sat on the floor with her back resting against the sofa, staring blankly out of the window as though searching for something that no longer existed.
Seeing her like this hurt more than Neville cared to admit.
This wasn't the fiery, spirited Ginny Weasley he had grown up with—the girl whose laughter could brighten an entire room and whose fierce determination had inspired everyone around her. Her once-vibrant red hair had grown long and was left untended more often than not. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, while the faint redness around them betrayed nights spent crying herself to sleep.
Unlike Neville and Luna, whose families had always been small, Ginny had been blessed with one of the largest and warmest families he had ever known. Six older brothers. Two loving parents.
She had lost every one of them in a single day.
As though that wasn't enough, the war had also stolen her closest friends, her best friend, and the boy she had loved since she was eleven years old.
Neville couldn't begin to imagine the weight she carried.
In the weeks following the battle, neither Neville nor Luna had known how to help Ginny.
Watching her attend the funerals of her family and of Harry remained one of the most painful memories Neville carried. He never wanted to relive those days. The image of his best friend collapsing beneath the weight of her grief, her cries echoing through the silent crowds, still haunted his nightmares.
It had taken weeks before even a flicker of life returned to her.
Until then, she had wandered through each day like an Inferius under the Imperius Curse—moving because her body obeyed, not because there was any spirit left within her.
Even now, she wasn't the Ginny he remembered.
And deep down, Neville feared she never would be again.
They had all lost too much.
Their families. Their friends. Dumbledore's Army. The Order of the Phoenix.
Everything that had once made their world feel whole had vanished in a single night.
The future stretched before them like an empty road, and Neville found that he had no desire to see where it led. For the longest time, the three of them sat together in silence, each trapped within their own thoughts.
Then, without warning, Luna spoke.
"I wish I had a humming beetle," she said dreamily. Neville blinked. She continued, "It would have helped me travel back in time."