The Second War Ends

The Second War Ends

Part Three: Reunion and Recovery

The soft patter of rain stirred Harry from his slumber. As he tried to get his eyes to focus, a warm breeze wafted over him, carrying with it all the delightful scents of rejuvenation...of life. A sleepy croak escaped his throat and his hands instinctively groped through the blurry world to find his glasses. He found them on a bedside table and placed them delicately on his face, unsure if he wanted to see what was waiting for him at the end of his nose.

Harry's surroundings swam into clarity, causing the headache he'd awoken with to get worse. After a moment, however, his eyes adjusted to his new environment and the ache edged away. He sat up, immediately regretted it, and flopped back down onto the bed in which he was lying. As he waited for the wave of cold nausea to pass, a familiar voice reached his ears, blanketing Harry in relief.

"Wotcher, Harry," said the voice and a second later, the young, smiling face of Tonks thrust itself into Harry's field of view, hovering just inches away. The sudden nearness startled Harry, causing him to retreat into his pillow violently. The bright pink hue of the young Auror's hair wasn't helping matters, either.

"Yergch," said Harry, pointing weakly to the top of the head in front of him.

"What's wrong?" Tonks asked, glancing upward. "Oh," she sighed, "I guess it is a bit much." The young woman then scrunched up her nose in concentration and instantly, her hair changed to a much more tolerable mousy brown. "Better?"

"Blurgh," Harry replied thickly.

"Well, at any rate, it's good to have you back among us," Tonks continued. "We've all been in a right state over you."

"Voldemort--" Harry began.

"Is dead," Tonks finished for him. "We found what remained of his mortal body when we found you. You did, Harry. You beat him." She punctuated her statement by gently ruffling his hair and wiping a lone tear from her eye.

Harry forcibly exhaled as the extent of what Tonks was saying washed over him. Voldemort was gone...not just gone, dead. That meant he was never coming back. No one could overcome death, not even the most powerful dark wizard of all time. It was finally over. He could now live his life like a normal person. Immediately, he began looking forward to spending time just hanging out with his friends. His friends!

"What about the others? Ron? Hermione?"

"They're both all right, Harry," Tonks said soothingly. "They're worried sick about you, as is Ginny. I may be speaking a bit out of turn but I think she cares about you a great deal more than she would like to admit. They've all asked about you constantly ever since we found you and brought you here. At last, I'll be able to give them some new information about you."

They made it, Harry thought. They had all made it. Harry exhaled again, allowing the ghost of a smile. Then, suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

"Where exactly am I?"

"You're in a field hospital in Yorkshire," Tonks explained. "Once we knew that Voldemort was dead, we set out looking for you. No one knew where you'd gone. It took us two days to locate you and when we did...well, you were half dead from exposure and blood loss. This was the closest facility we could bring you to. You weren't in any condition to be moved any further. Then, later, after your condition stabilized, we all though it best to keep you here, out of sight, for the time being."

"Two days to find me?" Harry asked, astonished. "How long have I been here?"

"A little over three weeks," Tonks replied as Harry gaped at her. "It took a full week just to get your fever down and your wounds healed. Lying face down in a graveyard with your face covered in blood, in the rain, for the most part, isn't exactly a healthy lifestyle. The healers even thought a thestral or two may have taken a few nibbles off of you, but they were able to heal you up quite nicely." As she ended her explanation, she offered Harry a warm smile.

Tonks' rather light mood made Harry very suspicious all of a sudden. He couldn't help but think that there was something she wasn't telling him. Thinking that the whole war suddenly went poof and disappeared at the moment of Voldemort's death felt a little too convenient.

"Tonks," Harry said slowly. "Did anything happen after I left the Hogwarts grounds to fight Voldemort?"

The smile faded almost instantly from her face. She got up from the spot where she'd been sitting beside Harry and began to slowly pace back and forth and forth at the foot of the bed. It was obvious by the look of concentration on her face that Tonks was choosing her next words very carefully.

"Harry," she began, "what you have to understand is that the battle for Hogwarts didn't end when you and Voldemort disappeared. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Your departure seemed to be some kind of signal. As soon as you left, the Dark Army launched a second wave to their attack."

Tonks paused and took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

"We were sort of caught unawares. Some of the Death Eaters that were though to be dead were suddenly on the grounds and in the castle attacking. It was...oh, Harry, it was mayhem. Everyone is still unsure about how they gained entrance to the castle, but all of a sudden, they were everywhere. Arthur Weasley and I were up on third floor checking for wounded when..." she trailed off, looking close to tears.

Harry felt the lump rising in his throat, knowing that whatever else Tonks had to say, he probably didn't want to hear it. Inexplicably, though, he needed to hear it. He needed to know what else had happened. Harry closed his eyes to brace himself for what was to come on whispered, "Go on."

He could hear Tonks sniffle before launching into a very quickly-spoken account.

"We were ambushed. Lucius and Draco Malfoy appeared from out of nowhere. Arthur never even knew what hit him. I stunned Lucius before the boy got me. I think the fact that he was so young and inexperienced was the only reason I lived through it all. He wasn't nearly the wizard his father is. The Stunning Spell that little Malfoy used only work partially. I was dazed, to be sure, but still capable of fighting. I don't really remember if I used a Shielding Charm or not. Anyway, the next thing I know, Ron is there. He was...he was really frightening. I've never seen anyone in such a state. I thought he'd become a berserker or something. It took everything that I had in me to pull him off that little git, Draco. Looking back, I should have walked away. After all, the Malfoy family has been responsible for so much trouble for the Weasleys. I don't blame Ron a bit. I'd have probably done the same thing if it had been my father." Tonks' shoulders began to shake and Harry knew his worst fears were confirmed.

"Mr. Weasley's dead, isn't he?" he asked dully.

Tonks cold only nod her head slowly in reply.

"Who else?" demanded Harry.

Tonks wiped her nose and eyes on the sleeve of her robe, which Harry thought made her look very childlike. A momentary wave of sympathy rushed out of his chest. He knew this had to be very hard on her. It was very hard on all of them. The young Auror sat down on a stool and continued, while staring blankly at the floor.

"Moody was killed. Nobody knows how or who. Fred...Fred was injured when someone or something blasted a hole through a wall in the castle. He was buried in the rubble. He's...he was--he survived but he'll never walk again. He and George were working with Flitwick and Robbins when the blast happened. Flitwick was thrown by the explosion but he'll heal. Robbins was trapped underneath Fred. He didn't make it. George escaped with some minor bumps and bruises. I've already told you about Ron. He broke his hand on Malfoy's face, but we were able to get that healed up straight away. Draco died in the hospital wing with Hermione and Madame Pomfrey. Left a huge pool of blood and brains in the hallway where he and his father ambushed us. I know it's rotten to say, but I don't think anyone really cares. Lucius is in Azkaban and we'll likely be put to death for murder and war crimes. I don't think you knew any of the others. When Voldemort died, the Dark Army all knew it. Those that could get away did so quick as you like. We detained quite a few of them, though...and then it was over. Hogwarts Castle is in shambles but it can be repaired. The dead have already all been laid to rest."

The happiness and relief that Harry had been feeling just minutes before dissolved, replaced by an empty, aching void. His heart poured out to his adopted family. They had given so much, to him and to the wizarding community. If ever there were a wizard family worthy of praise, Harry thought, it was the Weasley family. Try as he might, Harry couldn't stop the tears from streaking down his cheeks and onto his pillow. This was a loss that Harry couldn't be selfish about. This wasn't like Sirius. This wasn't like his parents. The Weasleys were the only real family that Harry had ever known. The loss, therefore, wasn't Harry's alone, but belonged to all of them. Harry turned over and buried his face in the pillow, helpless, as the communal grief plowed through him.

Looking back, Harry would say that he had no idea why he cried so much at that moment. Perhaps it was the mixture of mourning and release, of knowing that the worst was, indeed, finally past them and knowing the terrible price they had all paid. In any case, as Harry lay there and let his tears fall, he knew that, despite all that had been sacrificed, the healing could begin at long last.

It took most of the next week for Harry to heal physically. During the time that he'd been unconscious, he'd been kept alive and nourished by potions absorbed through his skin. The ingredients had been enough to sustain him, but little else. He'd lost a significant amount of weight from his already thin frame. His stomach had to be retrained to accept solid food again. After two days of nothing but broth, Harry finally managed to keep some soft bread down. He hated the bland diet, but as it was the only thing he could eat and he seemed to be continually starving these days, he devoured all he could with gusto.

At Harry's request, Tonks had not told anyone outside the field hospital about his awakening. Harry felt that it was enough for now for them to know that he was "improving". His friends (or family; Harry thought of them in both terms) needed time to console each other, to grieve. Once he was strong enough to travel, he would join them and they could celebrate their victory together. Until them, Harry busied himself with the task of regaining is strength.

By the following week, Harry was the only patient left at the field hospital and its service was no longer required. Tonks came one bright sunny morning to collect Harry while the healers and mediwizards packed supplies and rolled up the large canvas that served as the hospital's walls and ceiling. The mood among the staff of the hospital was one of hope and promise and talk was loud and exuberant at the thought of returning to wives and husbands, children, friends, and lovers.

As he was in no condition to apparate and didn't even know where his Firebolt was at, Harry and Tonks set out for The Burrow in a car driven by a Ministry chauffeur. The trip was a quiet, but pleasant one, allowing Harry time to relax and take in the scenery he'd always seemed to overlook whenever he was traveling on the Hogwarts Express. The time passed so quickly, in fact, that before Harry knew it, he and Tonks were approaching the familiar surroundings of the place that was as much Harry's home as any other.

"Hey, wait a minute," said Harry suddenly. "Don't go all the way up to the door. I want to surprise them."

As the driver slowed to pull over, Tonks fixed Harry with a concerned gaze.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to a walk?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Besides, it's just me and my wand. I don't have a trunk, or anything."

Tonks continued to stare at Harry in a motherly fashion but allowed the car to stop on the roadside, out of sight from the house itself. Harry and Tonks thanked the driver, who shook Harry's hand excitedly, and then turned to walk the remaining distance to The Burrow.

It was exactly as he remembered it. The haphazard walls, held together, Harry believed, by sheer will more than anything else, were the most welcome sight he could think of. For the first time since leaving Hogwarts that fateful night, Harry felt like everything may just turn out all right after all. And, to add substance to this new sense of peace, as the pair neared the house, the mouth-watering aroma of Mrs. Weasley's usual breakfast fare enveloped them, causing both of them to quicken their pace just a little.

Harry was debating whether to knock on the door or simply barge in when, quite suddenly, he was face-to-face with Mrs. Weasley, who had stepped out of the kitchen door to escape the heat of the cooking fire. The plump witch tried very hard to make her mouth function properly, but to no avail. In the end, she only managed to dissolve into tears and nearly suffocated Harry with the strength of her hug. "You're home!" she finally sobbed, "You're home!"

As he hugged Mrs. Weasley back with all that he could muster, Harry thought that he couldn't agree more.

It took Mrs. Weasley a full minute to recover from the shock of seeing Harry so suddenly. Eventually, though, she released him from her grip and began fussing over his appearance at once. Harry took it al in good stride, reveling in how good it felt to have someone fuss over him. He was glad he was here to be fussed over. And, he was glad Mrs. Weasley was here to do it. After assuring here that he was okay and that he would allow her to gorge him on everything she could cook, Harry asked about his friends.

"They're all having a lie-in. They've been working very hard the past few days, getting everything back in order. I was just about to go and wake them. Would you like to do the honors?"

Harry couldn't help but notice the slyly suggestive tone in her voice and blushed.

Harry agreed to go and rouse the rest of the house and Mrs. Weasley shooed him off to finish the cooking. Tonks, to Mrs. Weasley's relief, simply sat at the table with a cup of tea and made small talk.

Bounding as quietly as he could up the stairs, Harry decided to go and wake Ron first, given that he was the least likely to shriek and wake the rest of the house up. He allowed himself a grin as he pictured the look of astonishment on his best friend's face. It would be good to see Ron. Harry very much looked forward to arguing about Quidditch and discussing plans for the future, now that it seemed they would all have one.

By the time he reached Ron's door at the very top of the house, Harry had to pause a moment to keep himself from simply bursting in the room and tackling his friend. Holding his breath, he slowly pushed open the door and crept inside. As always, everything in Ron's room was decorated in a violent shade of orange, in deference to his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. Harry noted with amusement that this also included Ron himself, who was struggling sleepily to get a team jersey over his head.

"Come on, ye buggering thing," Ron grumbled while trying to force his head and arms through the appropriate openings.

"You know mate," Harry teased, "it amazes me that you can get through each day without seriously injuring yourself."

The orange blob stopped moving instantly.

"Harry?"

Harry tried to think of something clever to say, but, in the end, replied simply, "Yeah, mate, it's me."

Ron scrambled into his jersey. Now what was so bloody difficult about that, Harry thought. He had no time for further musings, however, because Ron had crossed the room in a flash and was now pumping his hand in a vigorous shake.

"It's great to see you. Really, it is. No one's heard a thing about you for weeks!"

Harry allowed his friend to continue shaking his hand as he surveyed his face. It was the same old Ron; tall, lanky, with that trademark lopsided grin. Harry noted, however, that his friend's eyes seemed a bit hollow, as if some of the light normally kept in them had been extinguished. He was so deep in his thoughts that he failed to notice that Ron was now quietly staring at Harry as well.

"You look like dragon dung, mate," Ron said with a note of worry in his voice.

"Yeah, I'll be okay, though. Listen, Ron..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to tell him how sorry he was about his father. Talking about it would make it real...far too real. "I--er... I heard about--I just wanted you to know how..."

"Oh, yeah, well..." Ron replied awkwardly. He turned from Harry and made rather a business of locating and donning his trainers. Harry decided that he wouldn't talk about this any more. Ron would let him know when he was ready. He, Harry, knew how it felt to be pushed into talking about things he wasn't ready for.

"Anyway," he said, glad for a change of subject, "let's go and wake the girls. Your mum's got breakfast ready downstairs."

It was obvious that the idea of sneaking into a room that held a sleeping Hermione appealed to Ron no end. "Yeah, that sounds like fun," he said as they exited the room and began descending the stairs. Quite suddenly, though, he halted and leered at Harry through narrowed eyes. "Wait a minute..."

Harry allowed himself a laugh when he realized what Ron was implying. "No worries, mate," he giggled. "I haven't got the strength for anything like that!"

The two boys reached the door to Ginny's room and grinned at one another. Ron silently communicated to Harry to wait in the hall for a moment while he went in first. Harry smirked. Both girls would positively shriek when they found Ron in their presence. He figured if either of them was going to get blasted with a bat-bogey hex from Ginny or heaven knew what from Hermione, Ron was definitely the recipient Harry preferred.

He stayed quietly in the hall as the tall redhead crept into the girls' room. After a few seconds of silence, curiosity got the better of him and he peeked in to see what Ron was up to.

Ginny's room, a little larger than the others in the house, comfortably allowed two beds, side by side, with a small table between them, to rest within its walls. Ron was bent over the bed nearest the door, whispering to the bushy-haired form buried underneath a pile of blankets. Behind him, in the other bed, Ginny was flat on her back, snoring in a rather unfeminine manner. Harry bit down on his knuckle to stifle the laughter that was threatening to ruin the surprise. They are so alike, Harry thought, remembering the times when he'd heard and seen Ron do the same thing.

"Hermione, wake up," Ron was saying gently. "I've brought you a little something." Harry smiled quietly from the doorway. The look of absolute adoration in his friend's eyes was all the proof Harry needed that Ron had finally gotten the point Hermione had made so eloquently after the Yule Ball almost four years ago. Hermione rolled onto her back and Harry could see that she was smiling up at Ron with a similar in her eyes. As she started to stretch, however, she obviously came to her senses because, in the next instant, the familiar bickering began.

"Ron! What are you doing in here? You're not allowed!" she screeched, sitting bolt upright and forcing Ron to jump back to avoid her head colliding with his.

"Hermione, hang on, this is important!" Ron tried to explain.

"What if I'd been getting dressed? What if Ginny had been getting dressed?" At the mention of her name, the youngest Weasley snorted and rolled away from the source of the noise with a mumbled, "Shut it, you two."

"Well," Ron replied, motioning Harry into the room, "it would have certainly given Harry and me something to talk about!"

The room exploded with Hermione's shriek as she leapt from her bed and landed on Harry in one bound, smothering him a hug. He felt for a moment as though he might suffocate form the force of the persistent squeezing she was giving him round his neck. "Hermione," Ron admonished playfully, "choking him to death would be really poor form, all things considered." After another second, she released her vice-like grip on Harry and held him at arm's length, her eyes full of motherly concern.

"Are you all right? How have you been? Goodness, you look so thin! Mrs. Weasley will have that fixed in no time, though? So where were you? How long have you been up and about? No one's told us a thing! Are you hurt anywhere? Well? Don't just stand there, Harry, say something! What are you smiling about?"

The reason Harry was smiling was evident to both him and Ron. A piece of Hermione's nightgown was tucked unceremoniously into her underwear. In her haste, she'd apparently not noticed. Ron, however, had and he was very busy taking in an unhindered view of Hermione's bare leg with just a glimpse of what it was connected to. Harry noted with glee that his friend's face was nearly the same shade of red that her underpants were.

"Nice knickers," he said, grinning wickedly at her.

"What? What are you--oh my goodness!" Hermione sputtered. Quickly, she righted her wardrobe and spun on her heel to grill Ron, her own face now crimson. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. Harry snorted. He thought it would have been obvious to someone with her brains why Ron had remained silent. "Boys!" she said, exasperated. The good-natured teasing died away quickly, though as Ginny stepped into the circle formed by the others.

"Hey," Harry whispered, certain that he had joined the ranks of the blushing.

"Hey," Ginny replied. As she stepped toward Harry, Ron and Hermione glided backward, allowing the red haired girl her space. "How are you?" she asked simply.

"I'm...I'm going to be okay," Harry managed.

"We heard you were unconscious for quite awhile. How long have you been awake?"

"A little over a week."

Ginny could not hide the shock of learning that he had been able to communicate with them for that long and had chosen not to do so. She blinked rapidly a few times, her eyes welling up. "Why didn't you let us know? We've been worried sick over you," she asked in a trembling voice.

"I--I wanted to surprise you," Harry replied lamely, now realizing how selfish it had been to keep them all in the dark.

Ginny moved closer still until she was right in front of Harry. He bottom lip was quivering and tears were beginning to spill over her lashes. "Next time," she said pounding weakly on Harry's chest, "don't bother with surprises, okay. Just let us know you're all right."

"Well, here's the thing, Gin," Harry said soothingly. "There doesn't have to be a next time. It's over."

At this pronouncement, Ginny crumbled into Harry's chest and sobbed in earnest. Harry wrapped her in his arms and closed his eyes, content to simply hold her. After a moment, he sensed Ron and Hermione join in the embrace. As the four of them stood there, laughing in embarrassment at the tears they couldn't hide, Harry knew, for the first time in his life...

I'm home.