Introduction: Through the years, while enjoying the Harry Potter books and movies, I have often found myself imagining a backstory for Lavender Brown. Her personality and behavior are intriguing, and they seemed to warrant further exploration. This is the story that emerged from my musings. Of course, only J.K. Rowling knows Lavender's true story.

The events in this story take place a few years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry and his friends are in their early 20s, and most of them have found callings, but Harry has been drifting along, directionless and somewhat depressed. The main characters in this story are Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati. Others also appear, including Ron, Luna, Neville, Padma, Professor McGonagall, and Bruno, Parvati's boyfriend from Beauxbatons. Not strictly canonical, of course. With compliments to Ms. Rowling, who created this rich and fascinating world, and has given us so much to work with.

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Harry entered the pub with some trepidation. Why would Ginny and Hermione ask him to meet here today "to talk"? He was a bit early, and he didn't see them in the room, so he picked up a pint at the bar and found his way to a booth to wait. He had been idling for a few years; he hadn't found anything that felt like a direction or a calling, so he had just drifted along. Not that the traumas of his life hadn't needed some attending to, and not that he really needed an income. But he knew that he was spinning his wheels, and he didn't like that.

He had maintained an easy-going relationship with Ginny for a long time, and she didn't seem to mind. Or if she did mind, she hadn't complained. Also, Ginny was pretty busy with her work, building homes and small shops. Nothing grand, just the kinds of places where people live and work every day, where they spend time with family and friends. Much of the wizarding world had been smashed to bits just a few years back, in terms of lives, dreams, and families. In the process, many houses and shops had also been wrecked, so there was plenty of rebuilding to do, in every sense of the word.

And that was what had initially attracted Ginny to this occupation. She had always enjoyed drawing pictures and building models of houses. After the war, when her family began to rebuild the Burrow, she had pointed out a number of areas where improvements could be made, in the arrangement of rooms and in the placement of stairways, windows, closets, and the like. Her parents had welcomed her ideas, and she had ended up directing the overall project, with results that pleased the whole family. After that, she had helped Luna and her father with a similar project, then some other neighbors, and that had led her in stages to her current occupation. She drew, she planned, she built, and with every project that she took on she improved her skills.

Ginny found it personally rewarding to talk with a family about the possibilities, and later to see the family settling into their new home. And like so many other endeavors, it was something a person could do well enough, or truly well, and she had risen to the challenge. Having grown up in a loving household, though in a physical structure that was a higgledy-piggledy jumble, she knew that straight, clean lines were not for everybody. She tried to design homes and shops that fit the tastes and needs of the people who would occupy them, and she found great satisfaction in helping people to find the sorts of structures that would feel like home to them, which seemed especially important now, after so many aspects of their lives had been damaged.

Harry admired Ginny's work, and her dedication to it. He sometimes helped with her projects, when she asked, but mostly he was content to just get along. Lately, though, he hadn't been very content. He had begun to feel that he'd become a burden on his friends. Always needing to pull things together, to turn a corner, but never quite getting around to it.

Now he looked up from his drink as Ginny and Hermione entered the pub. They, and so many others of his generation, had been through hell, and although the survivors of those horrors were traumatized, in varying degrees, at least they had each other. Harry loved both of them, and the three exchanged hugs before he headed to the bar to pick up drinks for them. Returning with a semi-dry white wine and a lager and lime, their usual drinks, he pretended that he wasn't quite sure which drink was intended for whom. This elicited the usual laughter, which Harry instantly realized was forced.

"Am I really this lame?" he thought. "What kind of a rut am I in?" And he said, "Sorry, that joke has gotten really old. I won't do it again." He sat next to Ginny, with Hermione opposite.

Hermione took a sip of her wine, and said "Not bad, but maybe I'll go for something a bit drier after this." She smiled at Harry, and began with a slightly melodramatic, "You may be wondering why I asked you here today ...," which relieved some of the tension that Harry had been feeling. Like Ginny, Hermione was focused, busy, and accomplishing things. In her case it was nothing unexpected: she had continued to develop her magical skills, with the advice and encouragement of other masters, including the professors at Hogwarts. Always studying, always learning, always with goals in mind. And of course, always brilliant. Now she shifted into her normal tone, and continued: "Harry, I'm working on something that I've mentioned to you before, trying to find a way to bring back my parents' memories. I think I've finally figured out a way to do it, and I'm asking you and Ginny to help."

"Hermione, you know I'll be glad to help in any way that I can. I certainly have the time. And look, it may sound strange for me to say this, but I'm feeling a bit reflective today; and I want to tell both of you that I'm getting sick of my inaction." With a wry smile he continued, "I've begun to think that there should be a limit to self-pity, even for me. I guess what I'm really saying is this:" and he glanced at Ginny, who was quietly absorbing his little speech, "I'm sorry. Really sorry. I've let myself go. I know you've tolerated a lot from me, and I know you've allowed me to wallow in this state, even after you've all moved on. I'm going to try to be better."

"Thanks," said Ginny, "it's good to hear that. Look, we all had it bad, and we know that you were living with that sick bastard inside your head for almost all of your life, and that you were always his particular target, so really, Harry, you're allowed to heal at your own rate ... within reason!" All three smiled.

Harry nodded, and went on, "OK, that's out, and now that I've spoken my bit, I want to hear what Hermione has in mind."

"Well," said Hermione, "my plan is about healing, and that's what you're talking about. So having you back among the sane and the active means a lot."

To protect her parents, Hermione had obliviated their memories of herself and everything they knew about the Wizarding world. Having lost all knowledge of their daughter, and with surreptitious guidance from Hermione, they had moved to Australia, where they had continued to work as dentists. In the years since that time, Hermione had frequently expressed her hopes of restoring their memories, and reuniting with them, but there was no known charm, spell, or potion that could accomplish this.

During those years, Hermione had traveled frequently to Melbourne, where her parents had settled, and she had purchased a home near theirs, spent time in the neighborhood, arranged to run into them from time to time, and thereby struck up a friendship with them. To her parents she was simply a nice young woman who lived in their neighborhood, someone they saw occasionally when they were shopping or out on a walk. And she seemed to travel a lot. They had invited her over for supper a few times, and they had sometimes wondered why such a nice, intelligent young lady seemed to be a loner.

They had also wondered why she occasionally became distraught over little things that came up in conversation. One of them would mention offhandedly that they had always planned to have a child, and regretted that they had let the time slip away; and their young friend would inexplicably become teary-eyed. Or one of them would ask her where she had grown up, and about her family, and soon she would be dabbing tears from her eyes. She explained, in vague terms, that she had lived most of her life in England, but had lost her parents, and they would apologize for having asked, and change the topic.

Later, though, after their young friend had gone home, one would observe to the other that she seemed peculiarly reluctant to speak of her past. Pleasant as she was, there seemed to be something mysterious about this young woman. Over time, they had learned to avoid certain subjects, though privately they wondered about her past and her current life. They had even tried to arrange dates for her a few times, somewhat clumsily, but with good intentions, and she had put an end to that by telling them that she had a boyfriend back in England, which helped to explained her frequent absences. But they had never seen the boyfriend in Melbourne, and they had their doubts.

"And now you think you may have found a way to bring back their memories?" asked Harry.

"Maybe," Hermione replied. "And with a lot of help from Professor McGonagall. It's rather complicated, and we're not certain that it will work, but we think that it's worth a try."

"So what's my part in this?"

"Actually, I'd like you to play the boyfriend," Hermione replied. As she said this, Harry and Ginny individually wondered why Ron wouldn't be suitable for this job, but neither of them knew where things stood at the moment in that relationship. Ron, now an Auror, was often out of town for extended periods, and like Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione seemed to be content to let their relationship drift along. Of course, Harry knew Hermione well enough to be able to play the part of her boyfriend, but it did seem odd that she would choose him for this job. Maybe it was just that he had more free time than Ron.

"But first," Hermione continued, "I need to find another person for the spell-casting. And this is not a happy thing to contemplate." Harry anticipated what she would say next. Complicated spells, particularly those involving more than one person working together, often called for a particular mix of personality traits and histories. Assembling the right group for such a spell could be an awkward exercise, often leaving people hurt and offended, either for having been included or excluded. Hermione lowered her voice, and continued, "At this point, I need another female, about our age, and one who has lost her parents. And it should be someone who has a fairly emotional makeup, which is awful, because what it all adds up to is that I need to find someone who experienced a loss from around the same time as so many others. And on top of that, someone who takes things like this very hard."

Ginny looked up, with tears in her eyes, and spoke quietly: "I'm already signed up, Harry, and one reason I'm qualified is because of the way we lost Fred."

Hermione reached across the table, placed her hand on one of Ginny's, and said, "Oh Ginny, I'm so sorry."

Ginny replied, "I know you are, and there's no need to go through this again." Turning to Harry, and smiling through her tears, she said, "You should have seen me when we first discussed this." And after a moment she added, "Sorry, I need to wash up, and I'll get us another round. A nicer wine this time, Hermione? Something drier? And Harry, another pint of the same?"

Both of them nodded, and Hermione added, "Thanks, Gin."

Ginny picked up her purse and walked off to the washroom. Harry watched her for a moment, then turned to Hermione and asked, "Is she alright?"

"Well, Harry, you know how hard it's been on all of them since they lost Fred. We talked this out a couple of nights ago, and of course she agreed to do it, but I feel like a rat. At least she's a good friend, and she really wants to help, despite the pain. But now I need to find someone else, someone who I don't know as well, and who probably takes things even harder than she does ..."

A short while later, Ginny returned with drinks for herself and Hermione, then went back to the bar for Harry's beer. She sat down again, and said, "I just had a thought. It's awful, but I guess it has to be, under the circumstances. Hermione, how about your old roommate, Lavender?" Hermione started slightly, but said nothing.

Ginny continued: "I guess you know that her parents were hunted down and killed by those criminals, just before the battle at Hogwarts. And when it comes to emotion, I mean, it's not funny anymore, but you know how everything is always right at the surface with her. I know you never hit it off with her back in school, and of course that snog-fest she had with Ron is reason enough for both of us to keep our distance. But it's been a few years, and that's all in the past. And I suppose we've all grown up a bit. So maybe she'd be right."

They sat quietly for a few moments, and then Hermione spoke, choosing her words carefully: "Look, regardless of our differences in temperament, Lavender was always a very nice person, and she certainly has suffered. And maybe I don't need to say this to you two, but I want to spell it out: I don't bear the slightest ill will towards her."

Now Harry spoke: "I think she lives in north London, in her old family home, and I've heard that she runs a little school. Neville and Luna told me something about it; they both teach there." Turning to Hermione, he continued, "How about if I talk to them, and see what I can learn? And then I can contact Lavender, if you want me to. I'll tell her a bit about what you're up to, and I promise to give her every possible chance to decline. And if she's agreeable, I can arrange for you to meet her. But only if you want me to ..." he trailed off.

Hermione nodded, and said, "Just don't pressure her, OK?"

Now the conversation turned to other subjects, and after a while they headed outside into the bright summer afternoon. Once again they exchanged friendly hugs, and then walked off in three different directions. But after taking a few steps, Harry turned and watched as the other two walked briskly away, back into their own lives, where they had goals and activities. Harry now had two pints of beer in him, and with the sun still high in the sky he headed back to his flat, sent an owl to Neville and Luna with a few questions, and then settled down for a nap. A couple of hours later he received their answer, and he sent a short note to Lavender, asking if he could come by to speak with her. Later that evening he received a reply, which provided her address, and continued: "Supper tomorrow? Six o'clock?"

He sent his reply, and picked up his worn copy of Nicholas Nickleby, which he'd read three or four times before. There was something comforting about the life and adventures of young Nicholas, who struggled along, facing adversity, standing up for his family, and for the weak and helpless Smike, and eventually finding love, and a warm circle of friends. But that was just a fictional story from a long time ago.