It was tiring work, helping to organise the reconstruction of Hogwarts. There were lists to make, people to contact, resources to requisition, and then of course, there was the building to do.
It was all paying off though. Even just a few short days into the reconstruction you could already see the progress, 73 of the 142 staircases had been repaired to moving order, the towers... well, there were towers, and already you could cross the grounds without running the risk of falling into a pit of acromantula remains and mud.
But there was plenty more work to be done, unfortunately. Already the costs of repairing had breached the estimates, and there was plenty more to be done. Of course the Ministry had an endless pocket for this project, the school was far too important, both in terms of infrastructure and in terms of cultural significance, to be left in ruins. And even some of the volunteers were offering to pay for some things, everyone felt they owed it to the school, and most people were keen to leave their mark on it.
Walking back through the school's gates, Jess was pleased to see, or smell rather, that dinner was ready - the house elves had really outdone themselves once again, especially given their limited resources.
While the repairing itself was enjoyable (the sense of accomplishment was strong throughout the entire camp) the most fun part of the entire project was kicking back around a campfire in the main tent, sipping on the hearty stew made by the elves, and sharing stories with other people involved, often people who were perfectly unknown to you.
Taking a seat he looked up and spotted the ex-minister turned editor of the Daily Prophet, sitting alone (as usual), muttering darkly (as usual) and looking up, shooting angry looks at anyone who dared to... well, at anyone, really (as usual)
"James," Jess said, raising his bowl towards the man as he scowled darkly at the source of the noise. "What're you writing?" He inquired casually, blowing on his soup to cool it off a little.