Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: I’ve been told this chapter needs a tissue warning. I don’t know about that, but I figured I’d pass on the warning, just in case.

Chapter Thirty

Survivors

Harry felt peaceful and relaxed, almost as if he were floating. He could vaguely hear the sounds of rumbling and distorted voices, but they seemed so far away, and he really didn’t want to pay attention to them. He was enjoying this calm nothingness and wasn’t willing to give it up just yet. The longer he rested, refusing to open his eyes, the further away the noises seemed to move.

Eventually, his curiosity won out, and he groggily opened his eyes. Confused, he found himself in a…room…he supposed, but he didn’t know where. Everything was pure white, and a mist hung in the air. The room looked to be made of smoke and mirrors without so much as a small table for furniture. He wasn’t certain where the light was coming from, but the room appeared to glow with a light all its own.

He stood up gingerly and was surprised to realize that he felt no pain. He was slightly stiff, but that was all. Studying himself carefully, he noted dispassionately that he was dressed in loose-fitting white trousers and a white tunic-style top. He was also barefoot and had no idea how he’d got this way. These weren’t like any clothes he owned, and they certainly weren’t what he’d been wearing during the fight.

He thought the room should be cold, since he could see steam rise from his mouth and nose as he breathed, but he didn’t feel a chill. He was neither warm nor cold; he simply was. He shook his head and tried to clear it in order to remember what had happened, but his memory was so foggy. He’d been fighting Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets…and then he was here, wherever here was. There were no memories in between. Am I dead? Did Voldemort win? Did I take him with me? What do I do now?

Harry thought he should be alarmed, but he felt oddly disconnected from everything. He shuffled toward one of the mirrors and peered inside. He could see the Chamber of Secrets – or what was left of it. Deep cracks ran all along the ceiling and walls. Huge chunks of stone debris were piled everywhere, and the floor was covered with a murky green slime. He could see where the muck was oozing in from one wall, showing a massive crack in its center. A great cloud of dust made it impossible to see the center of the Chamber clearly.

His eyes scanned the room but could find no sign of life. Where was everyone? How long had he been here? Did the others all get out? What happened? As if someone threw a switch, Harry’s fear and panic came crashing back upon him all at once, dropping him to his knees. He had to know what had happened to the others. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, and his breath came in short, painful gasps.

He slid his hands along the mirror, seeking any possible way out, with his anxiety mounting. He moved from one end of the vast mirror to the other, but it was hopeless. He spun around in a panic, uncertain what to do. If he was dead, he wasn’t real thrilled with the welcome.

“Hey, kiddo,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

Harry froze. Shutting his eyes against the surge of pain in his chest, he slowly turned around and opened them to see Sirius standing there. He was dressed in well-cut robes of midnight blue. His hair was still long, but neat and trimmed, and the haunted look that had always been so prevalent on his godfather’s face was missing. Sirius looked good – polished, even – and Harry was stunned silent, staring at him.

“I suppose I can’t really call you that anymore, can I? You’ve grown into an amazing young man,” Sirius said wistfully.

Harry’s throat ached. “No…you ca…I li…Kiddo is still okay, er…” It occurred to Harry that it was cosmically ironic that if he was dead, he still couldn’t come up with the right words to say.

“It’s good to see you, Harry,” Sirius said, smiling.

“It’s good to see you, too. Is this real, Sirius?” he asked, not certain what he wanted the answer to be.

“Is what real, Harry?” Sirius asked, and he seemed so very sad.

“Are you real? Am I dead?” he whispered.

“I am dead…you are not. Not yet, anyway,” Sirius said.

Harry shook his head, confused. “What about the others? Are they okay? Did they get out of the Chamber?” he asked.

“They’re still there,” Sirius said. “I’ll show you.”

He walked over to Harry and led him back towards the mirror that Harry had been staring at only moments earlier.

“Sirius, I don’t understand. What happened? What is happening?” he asked.

Sirius wrapped his arm around Harry and gave him a hug to rival one of Mrs. Weasley’s. “Merlin, I’ve missed you,” Sirius said gruffly.

Harry’s vision blurred. “I’ve missed you, too, Sirius…more than you’ll ever know.”

“I do know, Harry. I’ve watched you. Your parents and I have all watched you, and we’ve been so proud of all you’ve done,” Sirius said, beaming.

“My parents?” Harry asked, unable to mask the wonder in his voice.

Sirius nodded. “They’ll be here soon; they want to talk to you.”

Harry tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat, but was unable to do so. His head was spinning; everything was moving too fast. Talk with my parents? “What…what happened to the others?” Harry choked, unable to get the words out properly.

“They’re still in the Chamber. Go on, take a look,” Sirius said, nodding towards the mirror.

“Still there? But…how long have I been here?” Harry asked, unable to tear his eyes away from his godfather’s face.

“Time has no meaning here, Harry. We are on the border between our two worlds, and you are looking at the moment in time when you arrived here and what happened in the physical world,” Sirius said.

Harry didn’t understand, but he dragged his eyes to the mirror. The Chamber looked as clouded and empty as it had a moment before, only this time, Harry noticed that he could hear the sounds. A great rumble of stone crashing upon stone and the faint sound of trickling water filled the Chamber. Harry cocked his head to listen more closely as he heard a distant rustling beneath some of the stone.

Harry searched the room until he could pick out a hand moving some of the rocks. Gradually, George’s head emerged from the debris. He was bleeding slightly from a cut above his eye, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. He continued to push the rocks away until he could stand. He looked around the room, stunned. The dust was beginning to settle, and Harry noticed several shapes huddled against the wall at the same time George did.

“Fred! Ginny!” George called, leaping over rocks and debris to reach his siblings. Fred had curled his body over Ginny’s in an attempt to shield her from the falling rocks. George rolled Fred’s head back and slapped his cheek several times. As Fred began to stir, he repeated the procedure on Ginny.

Ginny groaned and slapped George’s hand away. “Gerroff,” she mumbled groggily. The wounds on her arm looked raw and painful.

Harry’s body sagged in relief when he heard her voice. Ginny is alive!

“Are you both all right?” George asked, his voice sounding panicked.

Fred groaned. “Yeah, my leg is still a bit stiff, but I’m okay. Ginny?”

Ginny shook her head and pulled herself to a seated position. Her eyes went wide as memory flooded back. “Harry!” she gasped, staring at the spot where she’d last seen him.

Harry placed his hand on the mirror, desperately wanting to touch her and reassure himself that she was indeed real.

“Haven’t found him yet,” George said, scanning the room. “I can’t see a bloody thing with all this smoke.” The panic sounded foreign and out-of-place in George’s usual jovial voice.

“What about Ron?” Ginny asked tearfully. “Lucius Malfoy stabbed him.”

Harry started. He felt a wave of white hot anger rise in his chest as he remembered Ron being struck down. And it was Ginny who finally killed Malfoy… Now she would have to live with that, too. Damn. I’m sorry, Ginny.

“I don’t know,” George said, running a hand through his hair and looking despairingly at the mess surrounding them.

The sound of moving rocks caught their attention as Percy’s head peeked out from the rubble. He coughed, and George sprinted towards him to help remove the boulder that was pinning him to the floor.

Percy was pale and slightly disoriented; George had trouble getting him to focus. “Take a minute, Percy. You’re going to be okay; it’s over.”

Ginny pulled away from Fred and scrambled over the rocks to where she’d last seen Harry. She started frantically clawing at them and tossing stones aside. She cradled her wounded arm tightly to her body as she worked.

“Ginny!” Fred yelled. “Stop. If he’s under there, you might cave more rocks in on him.”

“We have to find him,” she cried, her tears making clean streaks along her grimy face. “He’s hurt; I hurt him.”

“No, Ginny,” Harry said, his heart breaking. “That wasn’t you…it was him.” Sirius grasped Harry’s shoulder firmly, but said nothing.

“It’s not your fault, Ginny. Don’t beat yourself up right now; we have to get everyone and get out of here,” George said.

“Ron and Harry left their brooms by the pipe that leads up to Myrtle’s bathroom,” Fred said, limping towards the area where they’d last seen Ron and Hermione. “As Mad Eye would say – Constant Vigilance. Narcissa and Bellatrix are under here somewhere, too, and they were still alive when the Chamber collapsed.”

Ginny sniffled, but took a deep breath and pulled herself together.

George had freed Percy and was tentatively feeling around the rocks. “Neville was over here somewhere, too, with that bitch Lestrange.”

Ginny whimpered as she looked around helplessly. “How are we going to find them in this mess? It’s so dark I can barely see what’s right in front of my face.”

“Lumos,” George said, lighting his wand. He felt along the wall until he found one of the torches that had been snuffed out in the blast. “Incendio.”

Light blazed from the single torch, illuminating the small area round them.

“Good idea,” Fred said, moving back and searching for another torch. Fred and George each found another torch and lit them. When the torches were lit, they all stopped – awestruck for a moment at the destruction – before returning to the task at hand.

“What happened here?” Percy asked, shaking his head as if trying to clear the fog.

“I think it was You-Know-Who’s life force draining after Harry killed him. He fought death to the end,” George said, using his wand to begin moving some heavy boulders around.

Harry flinched.

“Say Voldemort,” Ginny growled. “Harry didn’t go through all that for you two to keep up that sodding You-Know-Who nonsense.”

“You’re right,” George said, nodding. “The Chamber started falling apart after V- Vo- Voldemort lost. I think I blacked out, and the next thing I knew…the Chamber looked like this. I’d bet the rest of the school suffered some damage, as well.”

Ginny squinted her eyes and darted towards something. She moved several rocks with her wand before gasping. “It’s Hermione.”

Percy, Fred and George all helped her to clear out both Hermione and Ron, who were lying next to one another. Ron was deathly pale, and his robes were drenched in blood. The pressure from the fallen rocks appeared to have slowed the flow for a while, but after they removed them, Ron began bleeding heavily again.

Harry gasped when he saw him, biting hard on his lip to keep from crying out his dismay.

“Ennervate,” Percy said, aiming his wand at Hermione.

She was covered with cuts and bruises, but her eyes cleared very quickly. “Ron,” she said weakly, struggling to pull herself into a seated position. Fred helped her to rise.

Ginny pulled off her robes and pressed them to Ron’s wound, trying to slow the blood flow. “He needs help,” she said, her voice sounding panicky. “Percy, do you know any healing charms?”

Percy blinked before shaking his head slowly, appearing young and very vulnerable. “No…I…I never learned any. The Ministry really should develop a standard curriculum for everyone to know…” he said, his voice trailing off.

Hermione pulled herself together and crawled over Ginny to get to Ron. “Ron,” she called, slapping him on the face. “Listen to me, Ron. You hang in there. Don’t you dare give up on me, now – not when we’ve come this far. It’s almost over, Ron, and we’ve still got a lot of the good things left to do.”

Harry’s heart lurched. She was right. For so long they’d all been focused on winning this war; Ron couldn’t leave them now that it was over and time to start living just for themselves.

Hermione leaned over and put her ear to Ron’s mouth. “He’s still breathing,” she said, teardrops beginning to cut through the grime on her face. “We have to get him out of here. Which way is the entrance?”

“Hermione-” Fred tried.

“There’s not much time. There’s so much blood,” she said shrilly. Her head whipped around frantically as she searched for a way out.

“Hermione,” George said sharply, causing Hermione to flinch. “We have to stop his bleeding before we can move him. Do you know any healing charms?”

Having a specific task to do seemed to give Hermione the focus she needed. “Well, I’ve never actually done any of them…but I have read about them. Being friends with Harry, well, I thought it would be a good idea to know them,” she said, picking her wand up off the floor. She began uttering several spells in quick succession, waving her wand in intricate patterns above Ron’s abdomen. The wound sealed itself back together, stopping his bleeding.

“You did it!” Ginny shouted.

“Well,” Hermione said, blushing. “Madam Pomfrey will have to fix any internal damage, and I’m certain she’ll do a better job of repairing it…but that should hold for now.

Fred pulled Hermione into a fierce hug and exclaimed, “You’re brilliant.”

“He’s not breathing,” Percy shouted.

They all froze for a moment, staring at Ron’s pale face. Hermione jumped up and placed her mouth over Ron’s. She breathed heavily into Ron’s mouth before turning her head and counting. She repeated this procedure several times, while the Weasley siblings stared at her in confusion.

“What are you doing?” George asked incredulously.

Light dawned in Ginny’s eyes. “We learned about it in Muggle Studies,” Ginny said. “It’s called CRP, and Muggles use it to get someone to start breathing after they’ve stopped. She’s breathing for him.”

Harry held his own breath as he watched them.

“CPR,” Hermione corrected automatically. “I think he’s breathing on his own now.”

They all watched the slight movement of Ron’s chest and exhaled in relief.

A sudden ‘pop’ startled them all, and they turned to see Fawkes reappear with Professor Snape gripping his tail feathers. Harry remembered Fawkes being there when he’d cast the Curse of the Damned, but not when Lucius had attacked them.

Snape’s cold black eyes surveyed the scene without emotion.

Harry thought he’d never been so happy to see the greasy professor in his life.

“Where are Potter and the Dark Lord?” Snape demanded.

“Under all this mess,” Fred snapped. “Help us clear some more of it out. Harry’s hurt pretty badly.”

“He’s still alive?” Snape asked, his eyes flickering with an emotion Harry couldn’t name.

“Where’s Neville?” Hermione asked, glancing around the Chamber. She didn’t answer Snape’s question, and Harry suspected that she was afraid of the answer.

“We haven’t found him yet, either. He was over there somewhere,” George replied, pointing.

Snape ignored them all and strode across the debris on the Chamber floor without difficulty. He knelt down beside Ron and Hermione and glanced at Ron’s wounds. “You healed him?” he said to Hermione; it wasn’t a question.

Hermione met his gaze unflinchingly. “I did.”

“You most likely saved his life,” he replied, pulling an empty phial from his robes. “Hold onto this and keep a hand on Mr. Weasley. It’s a portkey that will take you directly to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey is awaiting the injured.”

Hermione took the proffered phial, and she and Ron disappeared instantly.

“How did you get here?” George demanded.

“When I realized that the Dark Lord wasn’t in Hogsmeade with the other Death Eaters, I began to suspect something,” Snape said, sneering. “The attack on Hogsmeade was sporadic and poorly planned. Minerva had things well under control, and I didn’t think Potter would be able to keep himself out of the spotlight on his own. So, I began heading back towards the castle.

“That’s where Fawkes found me, and I knew we’d been misled. I gathered a few healing potions and let Fawkes take me to you. You said Potter is hurt?”

George nodded. “He killed V- V-Voldemort.”

Harry flinched again, and Sirius eyed him cautiously.

“Don’t utter that name in my presence,” Snape hissed, rubbing his forearm as if in pain.

“You knew something happened to Voldemort,” Ginny said, her eyes narrowing accusingly. “Your Dark Mark must have bled the same way the others’ did.”

“Yes,” Snape replied coolly. “So it did. Where are they?”

“Over here somewhere,” Fred replied, throwing both arms up in the general direction he’d been searching.

“Miss Weasley, your arm is wounded. Take this phial, and it will transport you to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey can heal it,” Snape said in a voice that almost sounded concerned.

“No,” Ginny said. “She’s tending to Ron right now, and I’m not leaving until I see Harry. He has to be all right.” She stared around at the massive mess, looking very frightened and alone.

Harry smiled sadly, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right.

George wrapped his arm around her and squeezed gently. “Hang in there, Ginny. Harry’s tough; you saw that. We’ll find him.”

Ginny sniffled, tears leaking from her eyes once again. “He’s been through so much. He’s got to be all right now that it’s over. It would be so unfair for him not to be.”

No one answered, but instead began sifting through the rubble. Harry felt that annoying lump form in his throat again. He could feel the concern for him coming from the Chamber, and it touched him deeply.

Fawkes flew gracefully around the Chamber and landed in a spot near Percy, fluttering his feathers imperiously. Percy stared at him a moment before beginning to clear the rocks beneath the phoenix.

“Here,” Percy called at last. The others moved towards him and dug around the area where Harry, Lucius, and what was left of Voldemort lay.

“Move aside,” Snape ordered, briskly moving towards Harry’s body and uncorking several phials of various potions. He roughly pushed Lucius’s body aside and began forcing the potions down Harry’s throat. George dragged Lucius Malfoy away and threw him aside with disgust.

Harry stared at the scene with mild detachment. He didn’t even recognize the person that Snape was tending as himself. The lump was barely recognizable as a person, never mind his own body. He glanced at Sirius and noted the pained expression on his godfather’s face. It was that, coupled with the sound of Ginny’s sobs, that caused him to turn away from the mirror, not wanting to see any more.

Ginny’s cries continued, and Harry felt as if his heart was being torn from his chest. Shaking his head as he fought an internal battle, he spun back around to watch again. Sirius still said nothing.

Snape worked furiously, his face twisted into a sneer as he examined all the wounds on Harry’s body. “Come on, Potter. I have no intention of letting you die and having you become some kind of martyr. Merlin knows they’ll be toasting your name in pubs all across Britain, never mind if the incipient fools believe you died for them. Oh, no, Potter. You’re going to live in order to one day prove to them their how misguided their hero worship is. I have limited faith in the intelligence of the wizarding world that has foolishly fawned over you for sixteen years; however, I have even less faith that you’ll be able to keep their adoration. You’re not that smart.”

Harry saw Ginny’s face darken, but George held her back.

“Ignore him,” George whispered. “He’s helping Harry now; you can hex him later.”

A great rumbling sound was heard from behind them, and they all spun around to see Hagrid’s huge form moving rocks and boulders aside with his bare hands to reach them. He had Ron and Harry’s brooms strapped to his back. His eyes flew open wide when he saw them all standing there.

“Where’s ‘arry?” Hagrid demanded. “Professor McGonagall reckoned it were a trap, and I hightailed it back ter the castle. When I saw them words on the wall, I jes’ knew. I jes’ knew. Is ‘e all right?”

The half giant’s lower lip trembled, and he appeared almost meek as he stared at Harry’s still form.

“I’ve done all I can do here,” Snape said, speaking directly to Hagrid. “I don’t think even Poppy will be able to help. He needs to go to St. Mungo’s. He’s stable enough to use a portkey to the hospital wing. Can you take him?”

Hagrid nodded and moved next to Harry. With all the gentleness of a mother lifting a new baby, he picked up Harry’s limp and broken body and cradled him gently in his arms. For the second time in Harry’s young life, Hagrid carried him out of the wreckage. “Aw, ‘arry. What have we done ter yeh?” he whispered loudly enough for them all to hear.

“Hold onto this,” Snape said, handing Hagrid the phial and ignoring his emotional display completely.

“I’m going with you,” Ginny yelped, moving next to Hagrid and gently running her hand through Harry’s blood-matted hair.

Snape nodded. “I need the rest of you to help me find Longbottom and the other Death Eaters. How many of them were there?”

As Hagrid and Ginny were sped away with Harry’s physical body, Harry again turned away from the mirror.

“Am I dead, Sirius?” he asked quietly. Why else would he be here, watching this happen as if it were happening to someone else?

Sirius turned and studied him quietly for a few moments. “No, kiddo, you’re not dead – but you’re not really alive, either. This place…this room…is neither here nor there. You’ve been given the chance to decide which way you’ll go. There aren’t many who are given that choice, so you’ll have to really think about it before you answer.”

Harry started to interrupt, but Sirius held up his hand. “Let me finish. Once you speak, the decision is final and irreversible, so you’ll have to take your time. Lily and James have been dead much longer than I, so it’ll take them longer to arrive here, but they want to see you before you make your decision.”

“I want to see them, too,” Harry whispered, stunned. “Why me? Why have I been given the choice?”

“I can’t answer that…it certainly didn’t happen to me,” Sirius said, somehow smiling and scowling at the same time. “One minute I was battling with that slag of a cousin of mine, the next minute I was staring into your father’s incredulous face. He gave me quite a tongue-lashing for leaving you there, by the way, not to mention what Lily had to say. No one has ever been really told off until they’ve been told off by Lily Potter. Then again, that was nothing compared to what she had to say to your aunt and uncle when they arrived.”

“The Dursleys are here?” Harry asked curiously.

“They’re around in certain places. Where you are allowed to go depends upon the life you led. The Dursleys have to pay a lot of penance. James’s new hobby is to play a prank on your uncle at least once a day. Lily doesn’t even scold him for it.”

Harry smiled wistfully. “What about Professor Dumbledore? Have you seen him?”

“I have, although only briefly. He’s caused quite a stir since he arrived. He and that mate of his – Nicholas Flamel – they’ve put the Marauders to shame with their shenanigans. He’s acting like a little kid let loose in Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes,” Sirius grumbled, obviously both envious and impressed.

Harry grinned, and the pain within his heart eased slightly. “I’d like to see that,” he said quietly.

Sirius grimaced and turned away. Looking through the mirror, he said, “The Weasleys, Remus, and Hermione all love you like family, too, Harry.”

“I know…but it’s not the same. If I chose to stay…would I be with you and my parents?” Harry asked. The temptation of the offer had an overwhelming pull, and yet…how could he just leave all the others?

“I’m not the one to make those decisions, but I would assume so. It’s not quite the same, however. It’s more the essence of you than your physical self, and you’re allowed to watch what’s happening in the mortal world, but you’re never able to help or interfere. It can be downright infuriating at times,” Sirius said honestly.

Harry thought for a moment, not knowing if he could stand being unable to help Ginny or Ron or Hermione if they needed him.

“Come look at them, Harry. They’re so worried about you,” Sirius said, beckoning him back towards the mirror.

Harry shuffled his feet along the floor as he forced himself to look. He could see the flurry of activity in the hospital wing. All the beds were filled with the people who had been with him in the Chamber, plus some others that Harry assumed came from the attack on Hogsmeade. His own body lay in the bed at the end – his own bed – the one with his name on it.

“How did they all get there so fast?” he asked.

“Time has no meaning here, Harry. You’re looking at the moment that you need to see,” Sirius answered, and Harry wasn’t wholly satisfied with that answer but sudden movement caught his attention. There was a flurry of activity around the bed where his body lay. Madam Pomfrey – looking more stressed and harried than Harry had ever seen her – rushed from her supply cupboard to his bed with alarming frequency.

Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Remus, and Tonks all hovered around his bed, as well. Hagrid’s shoulders were shaking, and he kept blowing his nose into a handkerchief the size of a baby’s blanket. Remus ran a hand through Harry’s messy hair, gently avoiding all the burns still marring his face. Remus wore a cloak, leading Harry to believe that he had only recently arrived.

Tonks’s eyes were red rimmed as she picked idly at the sheets covering Harry. Remus covered her hand with his own, stilling her nervousness.

Ginny lay with her eyes closed in the bed next to his. She was exceedingly pale, and her brow was deeply furrowed. The burns on her arm were covered in a jelly-like substance and looked much better than they had in the Chamber. She tossed her head from side to side, muttering incoherently in her sleep.

Harry’s heart lurched painfully. Ginny…his Ginny. He didn’t like to see her looking so distressed. Why hadn’t she been given a Dreamless Sleep Potion? After all that she’d been through, she needed to rest.

In the bed next to hers lay Ron, looking so pale that his freckles appeared angry and dark on his face. Hermione sat on a chair next to his bed, her head pillowed in her arms on Ron’s bed, snuggled right up next to him. There were a large number of potion phials on his bedside table – some empty, some full.

“Will he be all right?” Harry asked, alarmed.

Sirius smiled wryly. “Being dead doesn’t mean you get all the answers, Harry. I only know what I see, same as you.”

Harry was in no mood to joke, and that answer wasn’t good enough. He wanted – no, he needed – to know how Ron was and if he was going to be all right.

Fred lay in the next bed while George and Percy sat in chairs on either side of him, all sleeping soundly. Across the infirmary from Fred slept Neville. He looked very still and sickly. Professor Sprout sat next to him, gently swabbing his face with a damp cloth.

“There is nothing more I can do for him, Minerva,” Madam Pomfrey said, raising her hands in the air and staring hopelessly at Harry. “His wounds are more extensive than I can heal here alone. He has to go to St. Mungo’s. It’ll be quieter there for him, anyway. I already had to sedate all those Weasleys just so I could tend to him in peace.”

Professor McGonagall sighed heavily. “All right, Poppy, if you insist there is no other way. I’m concerned about security at St. Mungo’s. It’ll be so much harder to protect him there.”

“Certainly now that You-Know-Who is dead, ‘arry don’t need all that protectin’,” Hagrid said, sniffling loudly.

“He needs it even more right now, Hagrid,” Remus said, sagging against Tonks. “Every witch and wizard in Britain is celebrating his name. They’ll be all over him – along with the press – when they find out where he is. He’s much safer here at Hogwarts. It’s not only easier to protect him from the remaining Death Eaters who want to punish him and make a name for themselves, but also from the general population who just want to get near him.”

“But ‘e’s ‘urt,” Hagrid roared.

Harry felt sick. People were celebrating the fact that he’d killed – that he’d taken another life. Although he felt no sorrow that Voldemort was gone, he thought that if one person actually congratulated him for killing he’d throw up.

“I’ll go with him,” Tonks said. “He needs an Auror guard approved by Moody both inside and outside his room until we can run a security check on the Healers who are tending him. It should be much easier to arrange a guard now that Minister Bones is in charge.”

“She wants to speak with Harry when he’s able, as well,” Professor McGonagall said.

“She’ll have to stand in line,” Remus said with a scowl. “Where did Severus take Voldemort’s remains?”

“He’s delivering them to the Ministry, along with the other Death Eaters who were captured. Only Bellatrix Lestrange was sent to St. Mungo’s, under heavy Auror guard,” Professor McGonagall answered.

“Why? What happened to her? She can’t be trusted,” Remus said in alarm.

“Take it easy, Remus; she’s not going to hurt anyone now,” Professor McGonagall said with a distinctly victorious glint in her eye.

“Why?”

“Apparently, when Mr. Potter was dueling Voldemort, she was engaged in battle with Mr. Longbottom. She cast the Cruciatus and left him under the spell for an extremely long time. We’re still uncertain if Mr. Longbottom will ever recover. We’re planning to send him into St. Mungo’s, as well. Anyway, when V-Voldemort was killed, his life force expelled a powerful backlash – that’s what caused all the damage to the school. Evidently, Mr. Longbottom pushed Bellatrix Lestrange into that force. Her magic was caught up in the drain, as well. She’s been left as powerless as a Squib.”

Remus blinked several times without responding. Finally, he turned to see a slow grin forming on Tonks’s face. “Poetic, isn’t it?” she said, cheerfully.

Remus sighed heavily. “It will be if Neville is all right.”

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. Neville had been hit with the Cruciatus and might be doomed to the same fate as his parents? It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. Professor McGonagall had also said something about damage to Hogwarts. What damage to Hogwarts? Harry needed more answers.

Madam Pomfrey returned from her office. “All right, I’ve just spoken with a Healer McBride, and she’s expecting both of them at St. Mungo’s. She’s arranging tight security on Mr. Potter’s room, but I told her there would be several people accompanying him, anyway. You all simply have to stay out of the way while they tend him, however.”

Hagrid reached down and once again scooped Harry into his massive arms. Remus looked up questioningly.

“I’m stayin’ with ‘im,” Hagrid said firmly.

Remus nodded and followed Hagrid and Tonks to Neville’s bed. Madam Pomfrey handed them a portkey, and they vanished without waking any of the Weasleys.

Harry turned away from the mirror, his heart racing, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. His friends were all alive, that was at least something.

“What happened to Hogwarts?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I only know what we saw, Harry,” Sirius replied.

“They’re celebrating,” Harry said dully.

“Of course they are. The war is finally over; it’s human nature. They’ve been under Voldemort’s reign for a long time, and they’ve been scared. You can’t expect them not to celebrate that.”

“They’re going to make me out as some kind of hero – again,” Harry said with a scowl. He’d known in the back of his mind that it would happen, but he’d tried to block it out. Now, the idea of anyone congratulating him for what he’d done turned his stomach. He just wanted it to be over. He’d done his part; wouldn’t they ever leave him alone?

“Probably,” Sirius said, shrugging.

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

“Harry,” said a woman’s voice from behind him.

Harry turned and for the first time in his life that he could remember, he stared at his parents’ faces. Lily’s eyes – eyes that looked just the same as his own – filled with tears as she gazed upon him. Her hair was swept back off her face and secured loosely behind her head. She wore robes of deep emerald green that highlighted the color in her eyes.

James was dressed in bright red robes lined with gold – Gryffindor colors. His face was a mirror of Harry’s own, and he beamed at his son as if Harry had just won the Quidditch World Cup. It was only then that Harry realized that his parents and Sirius were all in color. Harry was dressed all in white – bland – like the room they were all standing in.

“Mum, Dad,” Harry choked out.

“Oh, Harry,” Lily cried, moving towards him. She stopped directly in front of him and stared intently at his face, as if studying every detail.

Harry tentatively reached up to touch her, half afraid that this was all his imagination. His slight movement was all she needed; she flung herself into his arms and squeezed him for all his worth – just like Mrs. Weasley always did.

“Budge over, Lily. Don’t squash him before I even get a good look at him,” James said, gently pulling her shoulders back.

“You’re so grown up,” she cried. “What happened to my baby?”

Harry wasn’t certain how he was supposed to respond. He felt kind of numb. He’d wished all his life to have his parents back, and now that they were here in front of him, he had absolutely no idea what to say.

“You know what happened, Lily. We watched you grow up, Harry; we’ve watched you all along,” James said gruffly. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

This jolted Harry back to reality. “No! I’m not disappointed in you; I…” Harry didn’t know what to say. He had been disappointed in James, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love him. He didn’t want to spend this time dwelling on that now, anyway. That’s my dad!

“I did, and I know it. We all make stupid decisions when we’re young, but I never meant for my swottiness to cause you such pain. I can’t believe Severus is still holding such a grudge for something that happened a lifetime ago,” James said, color rising in his cheeks.

“Not again with Severus, James,” Lily said, sighing with the air of one who’d been through this argument many times before. “The both of you are impossible.”

“I’m not nearly as bad as him,” James said indignantly. “Oh, by the way, Harry, that sketch you have of your mum? Snape drew it, way back in third year. Lily thought it would make me angry, so she gave it to her parents.”

“You knew?” Lily gasped, stomping her foot. “My parents liked it, so I gave it to them. It had nothing to do with you, James Potter.”

“Sure it didn’t,” James replied, grinning. Lily swatted him on the arm.

“Harry, what I regret most is not having a will clearly stating that you were never to go to Petunia.” Lily’s eyes again filled with tears, and she pulled him into another embrace. Harry tentatively wrapped his arms around her and patted her back.

“It’s all right. It’s over now,” he said, desperately battling to hold his own composure. He bit his lip hard. He was finally meeting his parents; he wasn’t going to start blubbering in front of them.

“It’s not all right. It was never all right, but I’ve let both Petunia and Albus know exactly what I think of the decisions made on your behalf. I only wish I could have done something when you were little. It nearly killed me to watch the way they treated you. You deserved so much more than that,” Lily said, smoothing the hair around his face.

Harry leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment and allowing himself to simply enjoy it. After a moment, he pulled away, knowing that if he didn’t, his decision would already be made.

“I want you to know how proud we are of you – how proud we’ve always been. Even when you were just a little thing, you were such a fighter. I’ve been so amazed by your resilience,” Lily said sadly

“You have some wonderful friends, Harry,” James said. He’d yet to remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder, but Harry didn’t mind. He was grateful to his dad for steering his mum away from the topic of the Dursleys. “You can tell a lot about a man by the friends he keeps. Your friends are all a credit to you.”

Harry smiled shyly. “They are a good lot.”

“We’re very fond of your Ginny, too,” Lily said, causing Harry to blush. “She’s been good for you.”

“And easy on the eyes,” said James.

Lily slapped him on his arm. “Dirty old man.”

James grinned and kissed her on the cheek. She scowled, but Harry could see laughter brimming in her eyes. He could finally see the love between his parents that everyone had told him about. It was like a physical thing. They so obviously adored one another it was practically written on their faces. Harry beamed at them.

“Harry,” Lily said, sobering. “I’ve talked a bit with Dudley since he’s been here.”

Harry’s head snapped up. It had been some time since he’d thought of Dudley, and he couldn’t help the tiny constriction he felt in his heart that his cousin – the cousin that had always had everything – got to spend time with his mum, as well. He wasn’t proud of himself for it – Dudley was dead, after all – but it was there, nonetheless.

“Oh,” Harry said tonelessly.

Some of his feelings must have shown on his face, for Lily caressed it tenderly. “I’ve tried to show both him and his mother how Petunia should have treated you. My differences with Petunia have nothing to do with Dudley.

“He was sincere before he died, Harry. He was beginning to see you in a new light and realized that maybe he was the one who’d been wrong. I wish you’d had the chance to really get to know each other. He was very touched that you thought of making certain that someone told Veronica about his death.”

Harry swallowed heavily, keeping his eyes on the floor. “If I stay here…will I be able to talk with you, too?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You can always talk to me in your heart, and I’ll always hear you. I always have,” Lily cried, continuing to caress his cheek

“But…so that I can hear and see you, too?” Harry asked, unable to hide the vulnerability in his voice.

“Yes, Harry. If you stay, we’ll be able to be together. And even though there is nothing that I’ve ever wanted more than to have been there to raise you, the past cannot be changed. Our time was in the past; your future is there,” Lily said, pointing towards the mirror. “You and Ginny have a life to build together. I willingly sacrificed my own life so that you could live. That damned prophecy never allowed you to do that, but you can now, and that is what I want for you. I want you to live.”

Tears streaked down Lily’s face as she spoke, but Harry couldn’t help but feel that it was yet another rejection. She didn’t want him here.

“Oh, Harry. I do want you,” Lily cried, reading his thoughts. “More than you’ll ever know. But…even though your life wasn’t what we’d hoped it would be up until now, you’ve finally got the chance to be happy. We want you to take that chance, Harry. The best thing you can ever do for us is to live happily.”

“She’s right, Harry. Our time is past; yours is yet to come. No more guilt or grief – we want you to enjoy your life. You finally get to really live,” James said, his voice cracking on the last word.

“It’s not your time yet, Harry,” Sirius said quietly, as if it were costing him something to admit what he knew in his heart was best for Harry. “You’re supposed to arrive here after a full and happy life. You haven’t lived yet.”

Harry raised his eyes to his godfather’s careworn face and felt his heart being torn in two. Here it was – the chance he’d always wanted. He could be with his parents, he could have Sirius back – but he’d have to give up Ginny, Ron, and Hermione to do it. He and Ginny had a lot of dreams to explore. He was free; he could buy that home on the beach and do nothing but take long walks in the surf for a while, if that’s what he wanted. He could finally offer her anything her heart desired…but only if he chose to live.

“Come over here, Harry,” Sirius said, moving again towards the mirror. “Take a look – they’re all waiting for you.”

Harry peered into the mirror. He could see a room that he didn’t recognize, but it was unmistakably a hospital room. He supposed it was St. Mungo’s. If the condition his body was in was any indication, he was still in bad shape. His face was covered with bandages and bits of gauze, and he lay unmoving on the bed. He was ghostly pale, and his scar showed vivid red against the white of his skin. He could see dark bruises on his chest and shoulders where they showed above the bedclothes.

Ginny and one of the twins – George, he thought – sat by his side, while Abe stood by the door. Ginny held his hand and gently ran her fingers through his hair. She was pale, but her wounds appeared to be healed, and he wondered how much time had passed. Her eyes looked haunted and full of pain, and he found himself turning away from the sadness he saw there.

“He looks better today,” George said.

Harry wondered how bad it had been if this was better.

Ginny’s eyes roamed over Harry’s sleeping body. “His magic levels are still so low that they’re afraid to do too much. All of his reserves are still going into healing the wound from the Killing Curse. Healer McBride still can’t understand how he survived, and she said he’ll always have the scar.”

“Harry’s used to scars,” George replied.

“Yeah. I just wish he’d give us some sign that he’s in there, that he’ll come back to us,” Ginny whispered, blinking back tears.

“He will, Ginny. He’s Harry. If anyone can survive, he can,” George said.

“We’ve come so close to losing him so many times already, and he’s tired,” Ginny said, rubbing her own eyes.

“Of course he is,” Abe said from the doorway, “and he’s got a right to be, but he’ll come back for you, Ginny. I can’t see anything strong enough to keep him away.”

“What are you doing here, Abe? I thought Harry was supposed to have an Auror guard at all times?” George asked.

Abe scowled and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m covering while they deal with the press. A bunch of them wormed their way in here again this morning, so Tonks hauled them in and is pressing charges.”

“Oh, no. Please don’t tell me there are any more pictures,” Ginny cried.

“Dunno,” Abe replied, shrugging. “She confiscated all their equipment, and you know Tonks – she even broke some of it in the process, so hopefully no more pictures will leak.”

“Damn it, why won’t they leave him alone? Hasn’t he done enough?” Ginny snarled.

“It’s that blasted Skeeter article,” George said, and Harry wondered what they were talking about.

“If I ever get my hands on that woman-” began Ginny.

“Hermione is writing a letter to Madam Bones revealing that she’s an unregistered Animagus, so hopefully she’ll get what’s coming to her. Fred and I had a package delivered to her. That bug is in for a nice little surprise,” George said smugly.

As George spoke, Harry heard a distinct buzzing sound within the room. Glancing around wildly, he noticed a beetle sitting unobserved on the windowsill. None of the others appeared to see it

“Why? What did you do?” Ginny asked.

“Let’s just say that the next time she turns into a bug, she’s not going to like the results when she turns back and her true nature is revealed for all to see,” George replied, grinning evilly.

“What are you talking about?” Abe asked with a grin.

At that moment, as if she couldn’t stand the suspense, Rita Skeeter transformed herself back into a human right there in the room. Only, instead of her usual appearance, her large bug eyes remained, along with antennae on her head, and her lips continued to twitch in a distinctly bug-like fashion. Harry noticed that her face was devoid of all make-up and her clothes were unkempt and disheveled.

“You,” Ginny hissed.

“What have you done to me?” Rita shrieked, and her voice echoed oddly. She sounded exactly like Harry assumed a bug would sound if a bug could talk. He grinned widely; Fred and George ruled.

“How dare you write all those horrid lies about Harry? He just saved your bony arse and let you keep the freedom to print the horrible, twisted lies you continue to spread,” Ginny snarled.

“I write what sells, missy. Are you denying that his power is greater than the Dark Lord’s? Or that he used a branch of obscure magic to defeat him? Maybe we’d all simply be better off if he never awoke from that coma,” Rita said, her Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling furiously.

Although he detested her, Harry had to admit that she had a point. It was what he was considering, anyway. Maybe they’d all be better off if it was just over. He didn’t have a moment even to reflect on her words, however, before Ginny walked right over to Rita and slammed a powerful right hook into the woman’s jaw. Rita spun backwards and fell to the floor, clutching her bleeding lip.

“Ha, Ha!” Sirius cackled. “That girl’s got spunk.”

“And a mean punch. Watch out for her, Harry. Where did she learn to do that?” James asked, impressed.

“She’s got six older brothers,” Sirius said, as if it were obvious. “Of course she knows how to throw a punch.”

“Nice one, Ginny,” Abe said with delight. “Maybe I should have used you as Harry’s sparring partner.”

“Get out,” Ginny hissed at Rita. “Get out and don’t let me ever see you near him again.”

“I’ll take her,” George said with delight. “There are still a group of reporters being held back outside, and I’m certain they’d love to get some pictures of a bruised and un-painted Rita Skeeter. Excellent job, Ginny. You even remembered to keep your thumb out over your fingers.”

“You can’t let me be seen like this,” Rita cried in dismay.

“I certainly can. Watch me.” George said as he dragged Rita from the room.

Ginny turned back towards Harry, looking sad and remorseful once again.

“What’s troubling you, lass?” Abe asked kindly.

Ginny shrugged. “It’s my fault he’s like this.”

“It’s not your fault, Ginny. Don’t let him destroy you now. You fought off an Imperius Curse cast by the Dark Tosser himself. There aren’t many who can claim something like that.”

“I wasn’t quick enough, though,” Ginny said sadly.

“The burns are mostly healed, Ginny. It’s the wound from the Killing Curse that’s causing his trouble now. He’s going to need you when he wakes up; don’t give into these feelings,” Abe said.

“Somehow, I thought that when Riddle was finally defeated that everything would be okay, that all the Dementors would be destroyed and anyone they harmed would get their souls back. I thought that Neville’s parents would be okay, and that Remus would no longer be a werewolf, but none of that happened,” Ginny said, swiping at the tears that fell quickly down her cheeks and splattered on Harry’s still hand.

“That’s a nice dream, Ginny, but it’s not realistic. This is real life, and the hero does get hurt, and not everyone survives. But we did. We survived, and we have to celebrate that,” Abe said gently.

Ginny nodded slowly. “I suppose. I just want him to wake up, and I hope that he’ll forgive me.”

Harry turned away from the mirror, tears glistening in his eyes. He knew what he had to do. It was simple, really. His parents and Sirius were his past, they’d always be a part of him, but Ginny was his future. He loved her, and he wanted that life with her. He could see that she was being consumed with guilt, and he knew what that was like. He also knew that he was the only one who could offer her the forgiveness she needed. If he died, a part of Ginny would die with him, and he couldn’t have that.

He knew what it felt like to be left behind, and he would never let her feel like that, if he could help it. He swallowed painfully. His decision made, it was time for the hardest part – saying goodbye.

Tentatively, he raised his eyes to his family and was surprised to see nothing but understanding and happiness there.

“Go and live, Harry,” James said warmly, pulling his son into a hug. “Finish school, have some fun, then get a job playing Quidditch for a living. Don’t let that opportunity pass you by. Imagine, getting to play a sport you love and calling it a job? Leave it to my son to do that. You owe them nothing. Have fun and drink some FireWhiskey while you’re at it.”

“Yeah, you really have to build up your tolerance for the alcohol, kiddo,” Sirius said, grinning. “You’re kind of pathetic.”

Harry laughed through his tears as he gave his godfather a fond embrace.

“He’s had enough FireWhiskey already,” Lily’s stern voice interrupted them. “I know the age of majority in the wizarding world is seventeen, but I still think it’s much too young. The Muggles at least wait until eighteen, so he’d be out of school. My goodness, you gave me such a start when you went into the ocean in that condition, Harry James. Honestly, what were you thinking?”

Harry grinned, thinking his mother sounded remarkably like Mrs. Weasley when she was upset – but Harry didn’t mind her scolding him at all.

“Oh, Lily. You’re forgetting what we got up to at that age. Enjoy yourself, Harry, then get married and have loads of babies,” James said, causing Harry to blush scarlet. “Be certain to name at least one of them after me.”

“And one after me, too,” Sirius said.

“Stop. Leave him alone,” Lily chided, pushing James and Sirius out of the way. She took Harry into her own arms and gave him a long, motherly embrace. “Although…a granddaughter with my name would be kind of nice.”

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. “I love you all,” he whispered.

“We love you, too, son,” James said, clearing his throat.

“And we’re always here, Harry, in your heart. Close your eyes and think of us, and you can feel us there,” Lily said, tears running freely down her face. “Harry, that sketch that Severus did…it was never animated, but it was done in magical ink originally. If you bring it to a professional, he could activate it.”

“So…I could still talk with you?” Harry asked, scarcely daring to believe it.

“Well – you know how the portraits work – it will have my personality, but it won’t exactly be me. Still, it will answer your questions as I would have loved to have done.”

Harry nodded and swallowed painfully. “Tell Dudley…tell him we’re okay,” he said.

Lily nodded and kissed his cheek.

“How do I get back?” Harry asked.

Sirius smiled and ruffled the hair on Harry’s head one more time. “Just state your intentions, kiddo.”

Harry nodded, shut his eyes, and said, “I want to live.”

Harry could hear voices – soft, whispering voices – before he could find the energy to open his eyes.

“How was practice?” Hermione asked. She sounded distracted, as if she’d been reading. “How did you feel in the air? You didn’t strain yourself, did you?”

“It was okay,” Ron replied. “I felt good to be moving, actually. It’s just not the same without Harry there. I can’t keep my mind on the plays.”

“How is he?” Ginny asked.

“The same,” Hermione said, sighing.

Harry groaned and turned his head slightly toward their voices. His body hurt. He had a sharp, searing pain going up and down his entire side, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. He’d known it was going to hurt if he went back, but this was ridiculous.

“Harry?” Hermione’s shrill voice nearly pierced his eardrums. “Harry, can you hear me?”

“I think he’s waking up,” Ron said excitedly.

Harry’s eyelids gradually fluttered open. He had no energy at all, and the lights hurt his eyes, causing him to squint. He blearily looked around and recognized the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Ron’s and Hermione’s concerned faces hovered just above him, and both of them beamed when his eyes focused on them.

Ginny stood by the end of his bed. Tears of relief glistened in her eyes, but she didn’t speak or reach out to touch him. She looked terribly wan and pale, as if she hadn’t slept in days. He wanted to call to her, reach out and take her hand, but his body felt so weak that it was an effort to merely keep his eyes open. Ginny.

“Ron, get Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione demanded. “It’s okay, Harry. You’re in the hospital wing; we brought you back from St. Mungo’s a few days ago. You’re probably feeling sore and uncomfortable. That’s normal, because…”

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut again as he drifted off to sleep listening to Hermione prattle. He’d have to wait and talk to them later…

Harry awoke several more times over the next few days, and each time his eyes fluttered open he found different people clustered around his bed. Either Ron or Hermione was always there, but he also saw Remus, Tonks, Hagrid, Abe, Cordelia, various Weasleys, and Professor McGonagall. The only person he hadn’t seen since initially waking up was Ginny. No one said anything about her absence, but he knew Ron had noticed his eyes searching the room and watching the door expectantly each time he was able to stay awake for more than a moment. He knew, because Ron averted his eyes whenever Harry did this.

At first, he’d asked for her, but the shifting eyes and stuttered responses that he received from everyone in the room worried him. The longer she stayed away, the more alarmed he became, and he eventually just stopped asking. A heavy, leaden weight filled his belly, and he found it a chore to care too much about anything.

Once, as he fluttered in between sleep and wakefulness, he could hear Ron’s and Hermione’s voices arguing about Ginny’s continued absence.

“We need to force her to at least show her face. He knows something is wrong,” Ron said heatedly, and Harry knew by his tone that this wasn’t the first time this topic had been discussed.

“You can’t force her, Ron. She’s not ready. She’s dealing with a lot,” Hermione said in exasperation.

“What about him? She’s hurting him by not being here,” Ron said more loudly.

“Shh,” Hermine hissed. “You’ll wake him. I don’t want to see him hurt any more than you do, but you know how stubborn they both can be. They’ll work it out on their own, Ron.”

Harry wanted to stay still and listen, wondering what else they would say, but he couldn’t stop the slight hiss of breath that slipped between his teeth. It was time for more pain medication. Ron and Hermione stopped their rowing and immediately turned their attention to his discomfort.

As the days passed and he regained some strength, Hermione informed him that they’d brought him back from St. Mungo’s because of security issues. She said that they couldn’t keep the reporters – who were desperate for any piece of news about the savior of the wizarding world – out of his room. Apparently, one had taken a picture of him while he was unconscious, and it had been printed in papers all across Britain. Rita Skeeter had written a nasty article about how Harry had set himself up to be the next Dark Lord.

Hermione assured him that Rita had been dealt with and would no longer be a problem. Although Harry was aware of some of it, he couldn’t seem to raise the energy to care. He did have a stack of requests from various publications to weed through when he was feeling better.

Madam Pomfrey scolded him for reaching burnout levels again. She told him that the reason she was healing his other injuries so slowly was that most of his reserves were being used to mend the third degree burn left by the Killing Curse. Harry had yet another jagged, lightening bolt scar along his side.

“And I thought having that plaque placed above that bed had brought you some good luck,” Madam Pomfrey huffed. “If I’d have known it would mean you’d eventually take up permanent residence, I never would have done it.”

Harry could hear the warmth in her stern words, however, and often found her swiping his brow tenderly in the middle of the night.

She assured him that he’d make a full recovery, but it would take some time. She said he’d be allowed to ask for an extension in order to take his NEWTs, if he wished, due to extenuating circumstances. Harry declined the offer. He was stuck in bed, anyway, might as well use the time to revise for the exams. Besides, it gave him something to do to occupy his mind rather than dwell on the rest of his life. He knew he should be happy…but he wasn’t.

Hermione was – of course – delighted by his dedication to his studies. Ron looked at him as if he’d left his mind back in the Chamber. In fact, he’d distinctly heard Ron muttering something that sounded like “bloody mental” as he left the infirmary.

Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange had been sent to Azkaban, but a number of other Death Eaters were still at large, and several threats had been made on Harry’s life while he remained unconscious at St. Mungo’s. Aurors were working on rounding the Death Eaters up, but without a central base of operation where the Death Eaters were working, that task was proving difficult.

The wizarding world was still celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord. All-night parties had raged in the streets, and the Improper Use of Magic Department at the Ministry was having a devil of a time administering memory charms to Muggles who’d seen too much. Harry’s name was toasted everywhere, and they were calling him the Boy-Who-Lived – and Finally Conquered. Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance; that’s all he needed – another title.

“Of course they’re going to treat you like a hero, Harry,” Hermione said practically. “You’re a young, good-looking wizard who they can actually see and touch. You’re the real thing, rather than something in a book. It’s only human nature.”

Harry felt as if he’d done his part – now he just wanted everyone to leave him alone – and he sulkily told her so.

“Well, that’s just not going to happen, so you’re going to have to find a way to deal with it,” Hermione answered firmly, leaving him disgruntled and irritated.

He’d asked about Neville, but had only been told that he was still at St. Mungo’s. Harry didn’t think there had been any change. He hadn’t told anyone of what had happened to him and meeting his family yet. Without Ginny there, it just didn’t seem right. Madam Bones had been requesting a formal meeting to discuss what had happened in the Chamber, but Harry kept pleading ill health when anyone brought it up. He simply didn’t want to talk about it, and they all knew it, but they were giving him the time he needed to heal.

No one had left Harry alone since he’d awoken in the hospital wing, and he often awoke from a nightmare to find one of his friends gently soothing the hair from his sweaty brow. While he appreciated their dedication, he longed for some space and privacy to think about everything that had happened to him – and he needed to figure out what to do about Ginny.

It was late at night, and all the candles in the hospital wing were dimmed low. Harry had been awake for his longest stretch yet and was feeling warm and drowsy. Madam Pomfrey had given him a potion to ease the pain, and it always left him slightly loopy. Ron sat on a chair by his bed, furiously scribbling an essay for a Transfiguration class the next morning.

“Scratch, scratch, scratch,” said Harry, chuckling. Somehow, the noise of Ron’s quill on the parchment struck him as extremely funny.

Ron looked up with a frown. “What?”

“What?” Harry mimicked, laughing even harder.

Ron grinned. “Harry, you’ve gone ‘round the bend. Those pain potions are pretty good, aren’t they? I wonder if I could still get Madam Pomfrey to give me one?”

Harry laughed so hard that he ended up gasping from the pain that tore into his side.

“Easy, mate. You’re going to bust something open again, and I’ve seen enough of your insides to last a lifetime, thanks,” Ron said. He was joking, but his eyes were painfully haunted.

Harry made inappropriate, sad, puppy-dog faces until Ron threw a pillow at him.

“Go to sleep, Harry. I have to finish this Transfiguration essay, or McGonagall will have my head.”

“McGonagall, McGonagall, McGonagall,” Harry said. He’d never realized how amusing her name sounded.

“Definitely some good potions in you, mate. Snape must still be on a high from getting out of spy duty,” Ron muttered.

“Snape,” Harry spat. “I don’t like that git.”

Ron chuckled and heartily agreed. Harry’s mind began to drift over the mystery of Snape. He’d always hacked Harry off, but he had also pushed him to find the inner strength and power he needed to destroy Voldemort. Harry’s insides squirmed uncomfortably. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He was having trouble getting his mind to focus, and unwanted thoughts seemed to be pressing in on him from all angles, causing his breathing to become erratic.

He remained quiet for a few minutes, listening to the scratching of Ron’s quill. He didn’t find it all that funny anymore. “Ron,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” Ron asked.

“Why won’t Ginny come?”

Ron froze and didn’t look up from the parchment. “Er…she’s been here, Harry. She even had a special portkey that let her go to St. Mungo’s when you were there.”

Harry was quiet for a moment. “I never meant for any of it to happen,” Harry whispered. “I never wanted her to get hurt.”

Ron slammed down his quill and met Harry’s gaze directly. “Listen to me, Harry. None of this was your fault. Merlin, the two of you are so alike. She’s killing herself with guilt because of what Voldemort made her do. She says she can’t face you in so much pain. She’ll be here, Harry. I promise you she will.”

The pain potion was messing with Harry’s head, because he was having trouble focusing on everything Ron was saying. All he knew for certain was that she wasn’t there. “I need her,” he said quietly.

“I know, mate,” Ron said, shutting his eyes with a grimace.

“All right, Mr. Weasley. It’s past curfew, and it’s time for you to go,” Madam Pomfrey said, emerging from her office. “I’m on duty tonight, and I’ll keep an eye on him. Off you go.”

Madam Pomfrey pushed Ron out of the infirmary and returned to her office. “I’m right in here if you need anything, Mr. Potter. Get some sleep.”

Harry rolled over on his good side and shut his eyes. While the rest of the wizarding world continued to party and celebrate the second fall of the Dark Lord, its hero – the Boy-Who-Lived – the Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort – curled into a ball and cried himself to sleep.

A/N: Whoop, it’s done. Two more chapters to go and then an epilogue before it’s finished. We’re almost there, and we’re going to beat Half Blood Prince. I've somehow timed this story to wrap-up one week before the launch of HBP. I'd love to say that it was my brilliant planning and foresight, and that I did it all intentionally. In truth, however, it was sheer dumb luck!

Credit for reference to Voldemort as the “Dark Tosser’ goes to a wonderful fic by Jeconais called This Means War – which I’m sure most of you have heard of already. If not, I highly recommend it; it’s a hoot.

Thanks, as always, go to my wonderful beta, Mistral. I’m really loading her down with these big chapters at the end! Thanks also to KEDme for being my sounding board.

I am stunned, amazed, blown away, delighted – you name it – by the response to the last chapter. I can’t tell you how pumped I was to read all your comments. I didn’t think there would ever be a way to satisfy you all, lol. Thanks for being so encouraging.

To those of you who questioned why Sirius was included in the end…if you remember, the Curse of the Damned called forth all those who felt wronged by the one being cursed. It’s why it was so important for Harry to control the Curse because if it went wrong, there were plenty of slain Death Eaters who would have held Harry responsible for their own demise even if he didn’t actually kill them. Bellatrix may have been the one who actually killed him, but the whole series of events was orchestrated by Voldemort. Hope that clears it up!