"Potter" Fan Fiction

I don't know why I haven't posted this yet. This past summer, not long after book 7 came out, we had an extremely slow day at work with very long stretches between calls. As a way of combating the extreme boredom, I wrote the following. It has been edited here and there, but about 95% of the story below is what I wrote that day.

I'd always been curious, starting at about book 3, about what a Hogwarts graduation ceremony would be like. What would it consist of? And I'd always hoped, knowing it was not in any way crucial to the overall story, that JKR would describe a Hogwarts graduation in one of the later books. And so, since that never did happen, I decided to write about it myself.

So here it is, my first and (so far) only attempt at a Harry Potter "fic."



HARRY POTTER'S GRADUATION


Hogwarts Castle stood triumphant and whole once more on the day of Harry Potter’s graduation.

A week after You-Know-Who’s defeat, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall - along with Heads of House Sprout, Flitwick, and Slughorn held a meeting with the board of governors during which they unanimously voted to grant full class credit to Hermione Jean Granger, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Harold James Potter – despite having attended no classes their final year. This decision received overwhelming support from the wizarding community in light of the direct roles the three played in the victory over Voldemort and his minions during the Second Wizard War.

The underclassmen were the first to file into the Great Hall on the morning of the ceremony. Although they seated themselves by houses as usual, they all wore identical black robes decorated only with the Hogwarts coat of arms, which featured the emblems of each of the four houses surrounding a large “H.”
The faculty were seated in a semi-circle at the rear of the dais. Standing front and center on the dais were McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn – their hands clasped behind their backs, each wearing a happy yet solemn expression.
Nervous whisperings which had commenced once the underclassmen had been seated were emphatically quashed by three booming knocks on the giant entrance doors. Several first-years squeaked in fright, with the boys trying to disguise theirs by coughing.

“WHO KNOCKS?” asked McGonagall, her voice amplified with the sonorous charm.

“TIS MESELF, PER-FESSER HAGRID,” answered Hagrid with no magical amplification whatsoever.

“WHAT BRING YOU, PROFESSOR HAGRID?”

“I RUDDY WELL BRING THE CANDIDATES.”

“THEN LET THEM RUDDY.…LET THEM COME IN.”

The doors slowly opened…

Early that morning Harry had been roused by a deep bullfroggy voice. “Master must wake or he’ll be late for his own graduation. Wake, Master Harry, wake - here are soap, hot water and towel for washing.” “Thanks, Kreacher” yawned Harry. Neville, Dean, and Seamus were already sluggishly going about their washing and dressing. Ron was the last to wake.
Prior instructions to the graduates consisted of being told to gather in their respective common-rooms for further guidance. Accordingly, the Gryffindors were soon seated about the fireplace in the common room with Ron on the verge of falling asleep again when Sir Nicholas, their house ghost, drifted in.
A hush fell as for several heartbeats Sir Nick merely hovered before them, letting his gaze slowly pass back and forth over them – luminous ghostly tears welling in his eyes as he smiled upon them.
“Oi, Nick. Are you gonna let us in on the procedure?” asked a bleary-eyed Ron.
“Follow me,” answered the proud ghost.
Escorted by Sir Nicholas, they descended Gryffindor Tower and made their way down the Grand Staircase. Personal landmarks from their years at the school seemed to bid them farewell as they went. There were so many memories. There was the bit of swamp left by Flitwick in tribute to the Weasley twins. They glimpsed the hallway leading to the bathroom where they had rescued Hermione from the troll. There was the spot of wall where the door to the Room of Requirement waited for a person in need. They thought as they passed the third floor of their encounter with Fluffy the giant three-headed dog. That occasion marked their first of countless brushes with death at Hogwarts.
Moaning Myrtle, secret chambers, basilisks, a werewolf for a teacher, educational decrees, large black dogs, shining silver stags, occlumency lessons, pensieves, mistletoe, nargles, Dumbledore falling…falling – all these passed through Harry’s mind during the trek through the castle.
It was a moment before Harry realized they were standing outside the castle with several thestral-drawn carriages before them. Silence fell. The winged, skeletal horses were visible to one and all.

“Up you go,” said Nick, “they know where to take you.”

Nobody felt like talking much as the carriages bore them away down the path.

“But this is the way to Hogsmeade Station,” said Ron, “What’s up d’you reckon?”
“I dunno,” said Harry, though he was beginning to have suspicions of what and who awaited them.
The gleaming Hogwarts Express loomed in front of them as the thestrals halted at the train station. There was no one in sight.
“Is this a joke?” asked Seamus. No one answered.

“Seventh years! Seventh years over here!” called a bear of a voice they all knew. Harry, Ron, and Hermione got to him first.

Hagrid led them down a familiar footpath to a familiar quay where a number of familiar boats were moored. “Entray-voo” said their large friend with a sweep of his hand. “Yer gonna leave Hogwarts jus’ like you got there that first day all them years ago – give yeh time to remember and think how far yeh’ve come since then.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione rode in Hagrid’s boat.

“Just look at yeh. Harry, Hermione, when you two took this ride that first time yeh’d barely found out yeh were magical folk. And you, Ron, you was afraid of not measurin’ up to yer brothers. No more need to worry about that, I reckon.”

They nodded in response. It was too emotional for words. They gazed across the vast lake as their school loomed larger and larger.

Hagrid opened the doors and preceded them into the Great Hall. He took his place with the rest of the faculty as McGonagall stepped forward.
“Please be seated,” she said, directing them to a semi-circular row of chairs at the front of the hall which mirrored those of the faculty. The Headmistress then brought forward a familiar looking stool, upon which she placed the Sorting Hat. All eyes were on the hat as it began singing its farewell to them.

“Seven years ago I sorted you
by what I sensed within,
Today that sorting is undone
that another may begin.

The gifts you have are gifts indeed,
Freely share them, freely give them
For by sharing them your gifts increase
and happiness along with them

As I sort you now into the world
To choose your own life’s lot,
I say be charitable to your fellow men
Be they magical or not.”

The hat had scarcely finished before it opened its “mouth” again.

“HARRY POTTER!”

For an instant Harry thought he was somehow in trouble again, but then he saw McGonagall kindly beckoning to him. He ascended the dais and approached her. She then waved her wand in the air above him, causing sparks to burst forth spelling the words HARRY POTTER – WIZARD, WITH HONORS. Cheers broke forth from his classmates as a silken cap of red and gold appeared in the air and descended until it rested on his head. He looked McGonagall in the eye as he switched the red tassel to the other side. “Your wand, Potter, if you please,” said McGonagall. As he produced his wand she said, laying her wand across his: “May this wand in your hand always be ready for whatever needs may arise, and Heaven willing may they from now on consist mostly of things no more serious than a broken vase, a child’s scraped knee, or a family meal prepared to give a tired wife a break.”
As she shook his hand she leaned towards him and quietly said in his ear, her other hand placed warmly on his shoulder, “Potter, you know as well as I do that there is not honor enough.”
“Thank you, Professor, but I think there is. It’s called getting to experience a world without Voldemort in it.”
“Well said,” she answered.
She gave him a quick embrace, and then he shook hands with the beaming Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn.
“My dear boy,” Horace said,” you’ve done Lily proud.”

The hat called up the rest of the students in turn, each to receive their own cap and to recieve their wand’s benediction. For the rest of his life Harry always meant to ask Ron and Hermione what McGonagall had whispered to them when their names were called, but whenever the chance arose he forgot about it.

The house elves gladly prepared a feast for the ages that night at the graduation party.
Kreacher, however, would let no other elf so much as refill Harry’s glass or pepper his salad.

Once the feast ended, the dance began. Harry and Ginny embraced to the music for the duration of the evening. Close together, no ominous cloud of any kind hanging over them, they looked into each others eyes. Eyes that had found what they were looking for, yet could never gaze deeply enough. Afterwards neither of them could tell what else had occurred or who else was there during that evening.
“So,” Harry said during a break as they sipped punch together, “one more year at Hogwarts for you.”
“Actually,” Ginny replied – seated on Harry’s lap with her head on his shoulder, “they gave me the option of graduating this year if I wanted to. Luna as well, she tells me. You know, being active members of the DA, aiding in the defeat of You-Know-Who and all. Or, maybe they just wanted a few Weasley-free years. Anyway, I’ve decided to stay…for the Quidditch.”
Then, fixing him with that spellbinding, blazing look of hers, she added, “I just don’t think I’d be able to stomach leaving this place with one less Cup than you.”
Harry looked at her in mock-indignation, then threw his arms around her and held her as they laughed.