The Post-War Effort

Prologue

The dawn broke over Diagon Alley, the sun rising above the clouds of black smoke and dust, glittering over the shards of broken glass and throwing into sharp relief the piles of rubble that had once been prosperous and bustling businesses. All along the narrow alley, the signs of destruction and tragedy were visible. A small fire still burned in the remains of Eeylops Owl Emporium, creating a shroud of smoke and embers that smelled sickeningly of baking poultry and charred feathers. The entire front of Olivanders had been blown outward, strewing small boxes and broken wands all over the cobblestone. Only Gringotts bank remained intact, relatively undamaged save the long, dark scorch marks spread across the white exterior.

Harry Potter emerged from Knockturn Alley, squinting against the light of the new day. He was shaking from head to toe, both from exhaustion and the sudden recession of the adrenaline that had been his only source of energy for the last two days. He stumbled out into the sunlight, looking around dazedly. He wasn't surprised by the destruction around him; he'd been in the middle of it the night before and had seen more than enough of it to realize that there would be nothing left once the fight was over.

A few survivors were moving about the rubble, looking every bit as stunned as Harry. He moved past them as though in a dream, watching their lips move as they spoke, but hearing nothing. Pain shot through his injured leg with every step and his whole body ached, making it almost impossible to think much of anything. The one thing he could focus on was finding Hermione and Ron, making sure that everyone was okay.

Halfway down the path, a little girl ran past him. He noticed, belatedly, that she was crying and found himself stopping to watch her go. Something tugged at him, and he followed her as she dashed farther down the road, watching as she stopped every few meters to look around again. Her voice floated back to him as she yelled, “Mum? Mummy?”

“Hey,” Harry called to her, his voice rough. “Are you okay?”

She turned to look at him, her green eyes wide. “Who are you?”

He almost laughed. He'd gotten so used to everyone in the wizarding world knowing him that it shocked him when someone didn't. “My name is Harry. Are you all right? Where are your parents?”

She eyed him almost suspiciously. “How do I know you aren't one of them?” she asked quietly, her eyes still darting around the alleyway.

“I'm not. Look,” he said, pulling his sleeve up to show her his left arm. “No mark.”

“Doesn't mean anything,” she said, backing away a few steps. “Leave me alone.”

He paused, then nodded. “All right then. What about this?” He hesitantly lifted his fringe back from his forehead, showing her his lightning bolt scar. “Does this mean anything to you?”

She stared at it for a minute, then shrugged. “How do I know it's real?”

“I guess you don't,” he said softly. “I just want to help you. Do you know where your parents are?”

She frowned, glancing around again. “No. Are you really him?”

“If by him, you mean Harry Potter, then yes, I'm him. Where was the last place you saw your parents?”

She pointed to the remains of Quality Quidditch Supplies. “They were there. They sent me along with some people who were running for the Leaky Cauldron. I didn't want to go, but they made me.”

Harry looked at the rubble that had once been one of his favorite shops, dread filling his heart. If her parents had been in or around that store, there was no hope for them. “Tell you what,” he said, swallowing hard. “Why don't you go on back to the Cauldron and I'll look around for them?”

The girl eyed him carefully. “I'm staying. How are you going to know who you're looking for if I don't tell you?”

Harry sighed. “Listen, um—what's your name?”

“Sophie.”

“Sophie,” Harry repeated. “I don't know where your parents are. I don't know how long it will take me to find them.”

“And you don't think they're alive.”

Harry winced. “I don't know.”

Sophie sniffled. “Even if you find them, you won't know it's them. I need to be with you.”

Harry started to argue again, then stopped. “Yeah, all right. But you stay back when I tell you to. Promise?”

She nodded, folding her arms over her chest. “I promise.”

Harry looked around, shaking his head. He didn't really even know where to start. The chances were all too high that her parents were dead and buried somewhere in the massive piles of stone and wood, some of which were three times his height. “You said they were at Quality Quidditch Supplies?”

“Last I saw them, yes.”

“Well, I guess we'll start there.” He heard someone yelling his name and turned to see Bill Weasley dashing toward him, a wide grin on his face.

“Oh, thank God! Mum was going spare wondering about you! You all right? Nothing hurt?”

Harry laughed softly. “I'm okay. He caught my leg with some sort of burning spell, but it's not too bad. Is everyone else all right? Your family, I mean?”

Bill's smile faltered slightly, and Harry cringed. They'd lost Ginny almost two months ago when they'd been ambushed by Death Eaters. Ginny had always been Bill's favorite, and Bill, Ginny's. It was undoubtedly still hard on all of them to think about her. “They're okay,” Bill said, nodding. “Fred's going to be in St. Mungo's for a few days, I reckon, but he'll live. Otherwise, it's just some cuts and bruises. So, did you get him? Is he gone?”

Harry smiled slightly. “Yeah, he's gone.”

Bill let out a whoop, jumping up and punching the air with his fist. “YES!” he cried, throwing his arms around Harry and giving him a bone-crushing hug. “Yes! Thank God! You did it! I have to tell you, Harry, I thought you were nuts going up against him alone, but—you did it!”

Harry stumbled a bit in Bill's firm grip, his body aching severely. When Bill finally let go, Harry had to grasp his shoulder for a minute to keep his legs from giving out.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

He'd almost forgotten that Sophie was even there. He forced a smile, nodding. “I'm fine. Just—tired. Bill, this is Sophie. Sophie, Bill Weasley. Sophie can't find her parents. I was going to help her look.”

Bill's face paled and his eyes widened as he looked from Harry to the little girl. “Oh. Uh, I think maybe both of you should—get back up to the Leaky Cauldron. They've got Healers there looking everyone over. You know, just in case.”

“I was just at the Leaky Cauldron,” Sophie said, her tone sharp. “I'm not hurt, and I want to find my parents.”

Bill stared at her for a minute, then laughed. “Sassy little thing, aren't you? Reminds me of—Ginny.” He frowned again, then shook it off. “All right then. I'll help. Harry, you really should go and let someone take a look at that leg.”

“I'm fine,” Harry said softly, turning back to the mass of building materials that had once been the Quidditch shop. “Help me out?” he asked Bill, motioning to a particularly large pile where the front door had once been.

Sophie sat down in the middle of the alley, watching as they shifted as much of the rubble as they could. Harry was painfully aware of how close she was, and kept his voice low as he spoke to Bill. “Not much chance, is there?”

Bill shrugged, sighing. “We lost a lot of people. It's likely they were among them. It could take days to find them.”

“I can't leave her alone here, and she refuses to go.”

Bill glanced back at Sophie then shook his head. “Look, I know how hard it's going to be for her, but we really should get her back to the Cauldron. You need to be looked over and she needs to—well, to not be here, anyway. Go see if you can't convince her to go with you. I'll get some help and keep looking.”

“You don't know who you're looking for,” Harry said, almost laughing when he realized that he was using the same argument Sophie had used on him.

“I know, but we're going to have to start the recovery eventually. Someone will recognize them, I hope, and we'll go from there. Just try to get her to go back with you, all right?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. You'll let me know if you find anything?”

“Absolutely. Go on, have that leg checked out.”

Harry stuffed his wand into his back pocket and walked back to Sophie. “Hey,” he said, trying to kneel down in front of her. His leg seized up halfway down and he bit back a cry, dropping harder than he had intended to onto the cobblestones. She watched him, glancing at his leg. “I think we should go back to the Cauldron, all right? I really need to have my leg looked at, and Bill said a lot of people are meeting there. Maybe your parents are already there and looking for you.”

Sophie shook her head. “They aren't. They would have passed me on my way here. Is he going to keep looking?” she asked, motioning to Bill.

“Yes. He'll look until he finds them or passes out from exhaustion. Trust me. He won't give up.”

Sophie chewed her lip, considering the situation. Then, she nodded. “All right. I'll come with you.” She stood up, then reached out to help Harry to his feet. “Is your leg really okay?”

He laughed softly. “I think it will be. It hurts pretty badly at the moment, but it will heal.”

“Did he do that to you? You-know-who?”

Harry hesitated. “Voldemort did, yes.” The girl, to her credit, didn't flinch when she heard the name.

“Did you kill him?”

It was an innocent question, considering who had asked it. But it still caused a cold chill to run down Harry's spine. “He's gone.”

Sophie was quiet as they walked the rest of the way towards the Cauldron, Harry limping more than he wanted to. His right hand had started to shake, and the shake was quickly becoming a full-out tremor that ran all the way up his arm. He started to reach for the door when he felt Sophie's hand on his. “I'll get it,” she said, staring at his quaking hand. “What's causing that?”

Harry blushed, shrugging and dropping his hand again. “I'm just—tired. I'll be fine.”

He followed her inside and froze as all conversation in the pub suddenly stopped. All eyes turned to him, and several people actually gasped. Then, without warning, someone was grabbing him, and he found his vision obscured by a great deal of curly brown hair. “Harry! Oh God, Harry! I was—we were all so worried! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh God! Did you get him? Is he gone?”

Harry wondered how many more times he was going to have to answer this question. “Yes, he's dead.”

Hermione cheered, hugging him tighter. “Oh thank God! Are you all right? Oh, you should sit down!” He barely had time to look at her face before she was dragging him to a chair. He glanced back at Sophie, motioning for her to follow as he allowed Hermione to nudge him into a chair. Sophie hung back slightly, watching their reunion. Harry caught Hermione's shoulder as she leaned over him again, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “There's a little girl over there—don't look or she'll know that I'm talking about her. She's lost her parents. Help me keep her busy while she's here, all right?”

Hermione leaned back, frowning. “Are you sure they aren't here?”

He shrugged. “They might be, but I doubt it. I have a feeling they're—gone.”

Hermione glanced at Sophie, then nodded. “I'll do what I can. What happened to your leg?”

He sighed. “It's fine. Where's Ron?”

“He went to St. Mungo's with Mrs. Weasley and Fred. I'm supposed to let Molly know that you're all right, by the way.”

“Yeah, you can later,” he muttered, trying to push himself out of his chair.

“No, sit,” Hermione insisted. “I'm going to get someone to look at that leg. What's her name anyway?”

“Sophie.”

“What's her last name?”

“No idea.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You didn't ask her?”

“I didn't think about it. Hermione, I really want to lie down.” Harry was becoming uncomfortably aware of the crowd of people surging ever closer to them.

Hermione looked around, frowning. “Come on, we'll talk to Tom and see if we can't get you a room.”

“What about Sophie?”

“She can go with us and help me look after you.”

Harry started to argue that he didn't need looking after, when someone called out “Sophia! Oh, my baby, there you are!”

He turned just in time to see an older woman hurrying over to Sophie and gathering the girl up in her arms. “Gramma!” Sophie cried, burying her head in the woman's neck.

Harry laughed softly. “Well, that's something, anyway.”

Hermione wrapped her arm under his and helped him stand. “I just hope that they find her parents. Alive, I mean.”

Harry didn't bother to say so, but he had a feeling that wasn't going to happen.

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Welcome to my newest venture! I know, I know, the summary isn't the greatest, but I really don't want to give anything away. :D This story is still in the very early stages, despite having been in my head for—oh, at least a year. I haven't written several chapters ahead as I usually do, so the updates may be a bit slower (okay, a LOT slower) than they were on The Good, the Bad and the Drunk. I hope you'll be patient with me.

Thanks for reading!

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