A crime to outlive him

Outside the castle the daylight was fading. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione, started feeling as if they were loitering. An air of embarrassment rose among them, till Harry realised that it was up to him to break the silence: the others had come to stay with him. "It's getting cold," he said. "Shall we go in?"

Relieved, Ginny, Ron and Hermione got up. A thin, cold evening wind was settling in, and even their Hogwarts cloaks did little to stop the cold. They set off towards the castle entrance, Harry stumbling swiftly. The truth is that the fit of destructive rage that had ripped through him before his friends found him had left him weary and spiritless; his limbs coursed with a dull and weary fire, and he really needed a bed and a pillow more than anything else.

As they neared the castle doors, a strange and disquieting sight greeted them. There were Headmistress McGonagall, flanked by a few other teachers and half a dozen Aurors, marching out of the castle gates; and in their middle, alone and wandless, a lean and still handsome blonde woman in tears, carrying what was clearly a human body. The scene looked like an arrest, and yet oddly also like a ceremony; the slow pace of all concerned, the silence - except for the fair-haired woman's sobs - and the solemn expressions. "What on Earth is that?" asked Ron, as the little group of friends instinctively came to a halt.

"Looks like an arrest.. or a funeral," said Hermione. "Wait a minute, you don't suppose...?"

"That is Narcissa Malfoy. She's crying," said Harry.

"Then the dead body must be Lucius," said Ginny. "They must have tried to attack the castle again."

"What would they do that for? With Voldemort dead and the castle crawling with Aurors and teachers?" answered Hermione. "Besides, look at that body. It's not remotely as big as Lucius."

"In that case, you don't suppose... Draco?" said Ron. Though they all hated the Malfoys' son, this suggestion was upsetting to all of them. After all, you do not spend all your growing years in the company of someone without feeling it personally if they die early.

The small procession of teachers and Aurors had gone by, and Harry and his friends crossed the gates and entered the castle. And the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, in Hogwarts clothes, looking more glum than they had ever seen him before. One or two of them gasped in surprise.

"Potty and friends," said the young man with an echo of his old insulting manner. "Just what was needed to make the day perfect. Come to gloat, haven't you?"

"As a matter of fact, Ferret," retorted Ginny before anyone else could get a word in, "we are only surprised you are alive. Who was it that your mother was carrying out just now? And what are you doing here?"

"As for what I am doing here, Weasel Junior - or should that be Mrs. Potty," he sneered, and Ginny all but grinned - "I am a Hogwarts student. Not even the war and its end can change that, according to school rules. I am here to complete my NEWTs. My mother insisted." He turned and walked away in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons.

"That's true enough," said Hermione grimly as she watched his retreating back. "There are no laws to throw out a student just because his parents are under arrest, or because he is a former Death Eater. And as for the murder of Dumbledore, we know that was not him." She looked at the corridor with dislike; but the rest were in no mood to be glum.

"Poor Ferret," giggled Ginny, "he's losing his grip. His insults used to hurt once." She turned a radiant smile at Harry. "Mrs. Potty! Honestly!"

"I dare say he had a thing or two on his mind," answered Harry, smiling back as his heart skipped a beat. "Such as his whole family being ruined."

"Yeah, and both his parents in Azkaban," added Ron with a gleeful tone.

"Yes... yes," said Hermione impatiently, "but the question remains. If it was not Draco whom Mrs. Malfoy was carrying, then who was it?"

And then her face changed. "There is only one person it can be."

"Who do you... oh, my God, Bellatrix?" burst out Ron.

"Can't be anyone else. Remember, they were sisters."

"Sure. And as I recall it, she was about the right size for the body Narcissa was carrying," said Harry, who had fought Bellatrix face to face and knew her better than any of his friends. "And who else would Narcissa weep for?"

"Got to be. She must have tried a final attack on Hogwarts..."

"...and got what was coming to her," concluded Harry with savage relish. He had never forgotten, let alone forgiven, Bellatrix' murder of Sirius Black, and her glee. "Pity I wasn't there."

"Pity you weren't, Potter" said a familiar sneering voice from behind them. "Then you would know that your idea is wrong from top to bottom."

It was Severus Snape; although, strapped on a wheelchair as he was, with much of his hair burned off by hostile spells, and half his face covered by healing poultice packages, he would have been hard to recognize if they had not heard the voice first.

Harry did not know what to think or how to behave. He had seen Snape kill Dumbledore with his own eyes - a sight that nothing could erase from his mind and nothing could make him forgive; but then he had also seen his heroic behaviour in the final battle, and heard from Lupin the full story of his duplicity, without which the Dark Lord could never have been defeated. So Harry just stood there and waited for Snape to speak again.

"Narcissa came here in peace, offering to help heal your mother. She took Bellatrix with her because she wanted her where she could keep an eye on her - she was afraid of her committing suicide. Then Narcissa was arrested anyway, and Bellatrix did exactly what her sister feared - she killed herself."

"Oh, come on," blurted out Ron. "Even if they allowed Narcissa Malfoy within a mile of the castle after what happened, they would never let a mad murderess like Bellatrix."

"They would not, Mr.Weasley, indeed. We would not. Can you think of a way in which Narcissa and Bellatrix might avoid our objections?"

"Polyjuice potion!" gasped Hermione.

"One point to Gryffindor," said Snape sarcastically. "Yes, polyjuice potion. Bellatrix came disguised as your uncle, Mr.Potter, as Vernon Dursley. And nobody had any idea who she really was till she drew her wand and killed herself as we were arresting her sister."

"Vernon? Vernon Dursley? Why would Bellatrix of all people come as uncle Vernon?" said Harry, shaking his head as if to dispel a cloud of flies buzzing around it. For a second, he had a strange resemblance to Vernon himself. Then Hermione touched him on the shoulder and pointed at a distant spot in the corridor... two female figures were coming walking towards them, one of them visibly leaning on the other, who was talking nineteen to the dozen.

Silence and unease spread across the corridor, from one person to another, like an oil slick. Harry fell silent first; Hermione, Ron, Ginny, looked at him, then at the two women; Snape looked away as if the sight hurt his one good eye; then Lily stiffened, looking at one figure among the five; finally, the insensitive Petunia noticed that something was wrong and stopped her interminable account of her neighbours and her son Dudley's doings.

Snape broke the silence. "Hello, Evans. Hope you're better."

Lily shook, as if yet another stroke of confusion had struck her. She looked at the chairbound, bandaged figure and, after a slight hesitation, asked: "Sevie?"

"Yes, it's me, Evans. Kind of older and sort of damaged, but me still."

"Are you...?"

"Don't worry. I caught a couple of spells too many in the battle, yesterday, but nothing old Pomfrey couldn't handle. Well, Evans, here is your son Harry... the others are his friends... as you can see he is very, very much like his father. So I guess I'll be going."

There was something in the conversation that showed clearly that not everything that could have been said was being said. Harry was struck by how different Snape sounded. He remembered the Pensieve memories, in which he had seen his father abuse a younger Snape, and Snape, in turn, viciously insult Lily. Now his mother sounded concerned about Snape; and he sounded gruff and embarrassed, eager to be gone, and not in the least insolent or ready to hurt. In other words, he did not sound like Snape at all. And that had been from the moment that Lily and Petunia had appeared.

Snape was not the only one to be mortally embarrassed. Petunia, so talkative a moment earlier, was doing her best to imitate a wall fixture. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione all knew why: for the previous seventeen years, she had abused Harry atrociously, and she knew now that if one word of what she had been doing to her son reached Lily's ears, that was probably the end of her new-found relationship with her sister. Harry enjoyed giving her a brief but white-hot glare, making her cringe even more. But the moment was here and there was no dodging it any more.

"Harry."

"Mother... Mom."