Harry Potter and the Rise of the Phoenix

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was surprised and thankful to find himself in his own bed. Once his brain had cleared all sleep from his mind, he realized that, though being in his own bed might be a good sign for him, it probably also meant that all the hospital beds were taken up by people more injured than him. At least Madam Pomfrey had let him sleep off his exhaustion in his own room instead of insisting on keeping him. He'd gotten lucky this time.

Though...

He paused while getting out of bed as he remembered Ron's pale face, lungs that had stopped working, and a heart not pumping. Swallowing down the grief that threatened to overwhelm him, he jumped off his bed, (Hadn't he seen Severus casting spells on Ron?), searching frantically for clean clothes and hoping to go find someone to answer his questions.

"You're finally awake," Neville said from the doorway. Harry looked over at him suspiciously. It looked like he was rather comfortable there. Had he been on "guard duty" for Pomfrey? Harry wasn't sure it bothered him all that much one way or the other. He grabbed the nearest set of clothes and started to put them on. "Thia said you're supposed to go up to the Headmistress' office before doing anything but dressing."

"But Ron--"

"She also said you can go to the infirmary after going to the meeting." Harry grimaced; Thia had to know how worried he'd be about his friends. "She said to remind you that sometimes duty and responsibility have to come first. Especially when that duty will ensure their continued safety," Neville continued, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder as Harry pushed past out onto the staircase. Neville didn't say anything; it seemed that he understood Harry's frustration.

Harry made his way through the packed common room, realizing that all the lower years had been confined to the Tower. Neville followed him, parting to go talk with Marissa. They were the only seventh years he could see, and noticing the way the two seemed super-aware of everyone in the room, Harry figured they were in charge of keeping order. Exiting through the portrait hole, he tried to figure out what they wanted him for at the meeting.

Most definitely they'd want to talk about why he had challenged Voldemort. He, now, knew he could win such a battle and he had been close to using the Lladd Cariad, he'd had that much control over the monster.

If that one memory hadn't surprised him, he would have stayed in control; maybe it was a good thing he'd lost control of the Legilimency. Personal revenge like what he wanted for Ron wouldn't do for the Lladd Cariad; had he cast it, Harry suspected he would have died. Once Voldemort had slipped out of Harry's full control, he'd let him go.

They'd probably want to talk about the wards too. He had been able to get the anti-apparition wards up and a few of the simpler defensive spells before Voldemort first attacked him and his group. Those must have been enough to deter Voldemort from attacking over night, but Harry knew he needed to put up the rest sooner rather than later. They would need their defenses to be as strong as possible. Better not to tempt the demon if they could help it.

He paused at the last possible turn toward the infirmary. He wanted to go check-up on Ron, Ginny, and whoever else was up there. They deserved to have someone at their bedside--they'd done it often enough for him--but he knew he couldn't. Not yet. Duty first, just as Thia had said, no matter how much he hated it.

'Responsibility sucks,' Harry thought.

Sometimes he wished he still was a simple student, not an Order member, not the freaking Boy Who Lived. But, being the latter, he was thankful he was the former. Responsibility without knowledge was dangerous. Turning from the corridor leading to the infirmary, Harry continued on to the Headmistress' office and the responsibilities he had as the Boy Who Lived.

'What if your friends are dead and they don't want you to find out because they think you'd become reckless and unbalanced. You'd go off the deep end if Ron or Ginny died.'

'Shut up!' Harry silently yelled at that tiny little voice.

It was the same voice that had convinced him that he could possibly be Slytherin's heir back in second year. It was the same voice that had convinced him he was the weapon Voldemort was looking for back in fifth year. It was the same voice that had assured him Ginny was dead when she'd arrived to save him from Malfoy Manor. Not Voldemort's voice, the one that almost made him kill her, no. It was only the mean, little voice that always questioned and always doubted.

Even knowing this, the voice made him think of Ron's body, pale with death. Harry shook his head at the thought, trying to dispel the image.

He stopped, and looked back towards the hospital wing, as if he could see through the layers of stone between him and it. What if they hadn't wanted to tell him the bad news until after the meeting?

Harry wouldn't put it past them.

Continuing on to the office once more, Harry dispelled the rest of his doubts, surprised by his last thought. Maybe Dumbledore would have, when he'd been younger. A small grimace marred his face. Hell, Dumbledore had done it with the Prophecy, and Sirius had paid the price. But Dumbledore wouldn't have done it since and neither would those currently in charge. He'd made his point about being treated as an adult. He'd earned that right. And he was no longer a student, not technically. His last exam was over and they'd lost their last excuse.

Anyways, Neville wouldn't have been able to keep it from him.

So, they had to be alive, maybe fighting to stay that way, but alive and not in critical danger of dying soon. Even Thia would let him spend their last minutes alive at their sides.

He hurried through the last few corridors, eager to get to the meeting. The sooner the meeting started, the sooner it ended and he could be on his way to sit with his friends. He stopped to regain control over his breathing, wanting to make the best impression he could. Looking at the gargoyles, he said the password.

"Nostri erunt lauri."

Ours will be the laurel, the prize for victory.

As standing Headmaster, Severus had reset the office wards. He was stronger than McGonagall at the moment, and wards connected to a healthy wizard--albeit the acting-Headmaster--would be stronger than wards keyed to a Headmistress who was unconscious. This protected the confidential files and the war meetings that were taking place at Hogwarts. Not Order meetings, not any longer, but worse. These meetings included Ministry personnel, the professors, and some of the highest-ranking Order members.

Harry rode the staircase up, patiently waiting for it to twirl him to the top. Once standing before the door, he knocked, though he didn't wait for a reply before entering.

The room was filled to bursting with the people he expected. They sat around a long conjured table; McGonagall's armchair was pushed to the side of the room, while the desk, settee, and coffee table seemed to have disappeared. Raibere Bruice, McGonagall's kneazle, sat curled on the armchair, watching them as if he were the king and they his subjects. He must have been the only reason the chair hadn't been banished as well.

Severus sat at the head of the table, furthest from Harry, with Thia and Vance on either side of him. Harry's uninvited entrance silenced the room, and he had to withstand strange wizards and witches staring at his scar, seemingly entranced by it as he walked over to the window.

Odder, though, were the Order members and professors who were staring at him as if they had never seen him before; well, not like that, because they weren't staring at his scar like the strangers were. It was like they were reevaluating him. Some seemed to be in awe, others seemed to be afraid of him. Odder still, were the looks some of the Aurors were giving him, sizing him up, not as an enemy but as an ally they'd depend on to watch their backs.

Before Harry had much time to think about this, Severus stood up. Bracing himself with two stiff arms, the wizard gave Harry his patented death glare, pinning Harry to the wall next to the window. It wasn't contempt and frustration that filled the gaze, like it used to. There was frustration, yes, but also something else, something Harry couldn't name.

"What were you thinking, challenging the Dark Lord like that?" Severus asked, his voice level and matter-of-fact, not betraying what that odd emotion was. Harry was careful to avert his gaze before Severus used Legilimency on him, or before he accidentally used Legilimency on the man to figure it out.

"Technically, he attacked me when the guard failed to keep him away from me," Harry said, unsure why Severus was attacking him for this.

"Technically," Snape spat back at him, "Shacklebolt took over the duel and forced the Dark Lord into a retreat. Technically, your idiotic, imbecilic, Gryffindor rashness had you challenging the Dark Lord again."

That made Harry stop to think. Of course, they probably already dealt with the guards' failure and had moved on. He couldn't help but wonder what else he'd missed in his sleep.

"Oh," was all he was able to get out before Severus jumped on him once more.

"'Oh,'" he mimicked. "Is that all you can say to explain yourself?"

"Well, it's just that I had to know if I could take him," Harry answered, hoping that this answer would be enough for Severus. He didn't want to tell him about his 'feelings' again. It had sounded stupid enough the first time when he'd told everyone that this last battle wasn't the final battle. Just as Harry had known that this battle hadn't been the final one, he'd known that he needed to test his Legilimency skills against Voldemort's. He knew that Voldemort hadn't been expecting that and so Harry had pressed forward.

"I thought it was a Slytherin trait to pay any price for information," Severus replied, his tone taking on a deathly chill. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat before he relaxed enough to recover. Surely, Severus couldn't mean... "And a Gryffindor trait to protect those they cared for. I am surprised that the Gryffindor Golden Boy would barter his best friend's life for knowledge."

Harry felt a roaring in his ears and his knees started to give way under him. Not wishing to fall to his arse in front of these people, even if they might understand the harshness of learning something like this from a fuming Snape, he slid down the wall slowly to sit on the floor, his legs spread out before him. A hand went to scrub at his face and forehead and then up to slowly entwine in his hair.

Hadn't Severus come over and started casting on Ron? Had he misunderstood that? Maybe the curse was contagious, something like the flu? But, wasn't it hexes that tended to bleed from the object? Curses and jinxes were both triggers and that had definitely been a curse that hit Ron. You could tell by the way the beam of light turned upon itself. So, maybe he was wrong and curses could bleed as well. What was that rhyme Hermione used to--

What the hell was he doing thinking about magical theory when he ought to be worried about Ron?

Harry couldn't even imagine a world without the other man, without his best mate, one of his first true friends.

His brother.

And now he was dead.

"Dead?" Harry asked, echoing the word, looking for confirmation. As if there had been any possibility of him misunderstanding just what Severus had meant by "any price" and that Ron could be alive. But he needed to hear.

"Your damnable Gryffindor egotism knows no bounds," Severus replied. "You challenged the gravest threat to the wizarding world in a century and you have no better reason than to know if you could take him. I hope the price was worth it to you."

Harry swallowed and his other hand wove itself into his hair next to the first. Pulling none too gently, Harry tried to center himself so that he could think. The dull ache in his scalp gave him something to focus on and he allowed himself to think about Ron's death critically.

Damn, life without Ron would be hard, but Ron knew what he'd been getting himself into.

The knowledge he had gained from Voldemort was immense and would pay off in the long run.

If he had his way, it would lead to an end to this war.

To a final victory.

Ron had understood the risks.

"It's war," he answered, just as Thia had been about to say something. His answer met silence--a deep, stunned silence, quieter than before.

"What do you mean?" someone Harry didn't recognize finally asked.

"It's just that, Ron knew the risks," he answered. Oh God, what was he going to tell Hermione? "We all do, even if you think we're kids. And the information I got from Voldemort is important." And Ginny...those two had been close, being the youngest Weasleys. "I've learnt several things that will help us; least of all is the fact that I can best Voldemort at a Legilimency duel. Ron was willing to die in order to win the War. So am I. So are all of you. It's war."

"What do you know of war?" Severus asked, surprising Harry. Severus had never, not once since they'd come to their understanding, doubted his experiences. Severus had always been the one to stand up for him when it came to attacks like this.

"I've been tortured, I've been attacked, I've been in battles of several different scales, I've been smeared in the newspapers, I've been targeted by assassins, I've been--Damn it, Severus! I know war!"

"Knowing all of this, you still challenged the Dark Lord, you insufferable Gryffindor," Snape repeated. "Stepping into the fire is still suicide, Potter, not to mention asking for the Dark Lord's attention is as well."

"I wasn't going to die!"

"You had no way of knowing that! You endangered all of our lives by fighting a duel before finishing the wards! What if you had died and the wards still remained down?"

"It wasn't going to end that way."

"Or, had you succeeded in killing the Dark Lord, what would have protected us from Death Eaters driven insane by desperation?"

"It wasn't going to end that way either!"

"Or, had you tried the Lladd Cariad with the selfish revenge coursing through your veins--"

"I'M NOT STUPID!" Harry shouted, cutting Snape off and standing. He moved to the opposite end of the table from the furious Slytherin, probably the seat meant for him. He had his arms braced before him, leaning forward to stare at Snape across the length, their poises identical. Sometimes Snape could be the same greasy git of a bastard he'd been while under Voldemort's control. The room went eerily quiet and Harry recognized the calm before the storm.

The others seemed to be holding their breath. No one believed Severus would let a half-blooded Gryffindor live after such insolent remarks. The very few with even the smallest touch of Sight knew that next few minutes would forge the next great era.

All Snape deemed to reply was, "Oh?" but Harry heard the "could have surprised me" tagged to the end of it. It was all in the eyebrow.

"Yeah, 'Oh,'" Harry echoed, using Severus' trick against him. "I knew the Lladd Cariad would kill me had I used it. I was never planning on it. Remember, I said it wasn't going to be the end."

"Just how did you know that?" some self-important Ministry worker asked. Harry tapped his scar, still looking at Severus.

"I just knew," Harry answered. "Voldemort knew as well. What do you think those challenges were about?"

"How do you know You-Know-Who knew?" the same Ministry worker asked.

"Legilimency," Harry answered with a shrug.

"Then what the hell were you doing dueling with him?" Severus asked, his temper finally breaking, his voice finally rising into a shout.

Harry took a calming breath, trying to regain some semblance of control in this argument. Now, if only finding an answer they'd accept would be just as easy, he'd be set.

Severus continued, "After all, you seemed to think it was worth Ronald's life--"

"Severus, enough," Thia said, sounding annoyed.

Harry pulled his arms close to his body to hide the shaking, looking up at Thia's rebuke. He'd forgotten in the heat of the argument. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but he had forgotten.

"Ron isn't dead, Harry," she said calmly, looking him in the eye.

Harry blinked. Not dead?

"Severus never said that. I'm done letting him use your misunderstanding to hammer in his point. Severus, you should be ashamed of yourself for doing that."

"He was bargaining with it nonetheless, Synthia," Severus answered icily, gaining Harry's attention once more.

"Ron is just fine; he wasn't bargaining!" Thia retorted, her fuse short. Harry knew she hated being called by her full name.

"The only thing that kept the youngest Weasley boy in this world was my aid which might not have been available," Severus snapped. "Harry ought to have let the Dark Lord go so that proper healers could see to him sooner."

"Harry oughtn't," Harry replied, reminding them that he was still in the room. "I couldn't let him leave without me trying. You might be so sure in my abilities as a Legilimens, Severus, but I'm not. I've never bested him in any of the visions. Knowing that I can beat him helps me. Yes, I know that being underestimated is important, but Voldemort hasn't underestimated me for a long time. Now I know that I can take it that far, we'll just have to wait and see if I can carry off the Lladd Cariad as well."

"Was that your only reason?" Severus asked, and Harry knew that the calm tone was deceptive. If Severus was truly calm, then Harry was Voldemort himself.

"During our first duel, he'd said something that made me think he knew about the Lladd Cariad," Harry answered. "Turns out he knows very little about it. The Death Eater he calls Angel is Celeste Blackstone."

"She works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office," a ministry official stated. "Took over when Arthur Weasley died."

"Doesn't sound like a candidate for the Death Eaters," Bill said thoughtfully. Harry shook his head.

"I bet Charlie would've said the same thing about Terry," he muttered under his breath. Speaking up, he said, "Sounds like the perfect place for a Death Eater mole. I got too interested in the memory of her telling Voldemort and he was able to throw me out."

"Does this change anything?" Vance asked, her voiced filled with concern. "With Voldemort knowing about the Lladd Cariad?" There was a pause as Remus, Bill, and Severus exchanged several looks.

"No," Severus said thoughtfully, sitting down for the first time since Harry had entered the room. He tried not to think of the trick the man had played on him, concerning Ron, but it was difficult. Yes, Harry could understand the reasons behind it, but--it was still cruel. Yet, oh so, Slytherin. "Even if he had all the information on it that we do, I doubt he'd understand it. Albus was always correct in saying--"

"Voldemort's greatest weakness is love," Dumbledore said from his painting hanging on the wall.

Severus rolled his eyes. Harry felt the light bulb turn on in his mind, it was that bright. That couldn't... Severus hadn't been so angry because Harry could have died, could he? Not in the general way he'd been implying earlier, but in a more personal way? He couldn't keep the smile off his lips at that thought. If it was true, Harry thought he'd be able to forgive Severus of anything, even convincing him that his best mate was dead.

"Exactly," Severus replied. "It would be difficult to believe that love, an emotion they consider a weakness, could ever kill."

"He doesn't even know that much," Harry answered. "She overheard someone, I don't know who because she didn't say, saying Lladd Cariad and a few vague facts. Nothing very particular."

"That's very good indeed," the pompous Ministry official from earlier said with a nod. "Did you learn anything else?"

Did he learn anything else? Of course he had! Voldemort expected them to sit tight behind Hogwarts wards, and while they stayed, he planned on destroying the muggle world. As far as Harry knew, the Light had never gone on the offensive, only reacting or defending themselves. They'd never taken the battle to Voldemort. And, in the same way Harry knew that yesterday's battle hadn't been the last, Harry knew the next battle where the two crossed wands would be It.

The End.

Harry suppressed a tremor that crawled down his spine at the thought. He'd known that it'd been coming for a long while. Sometime early in the spring, he'd known that come fall, he'd be free of the War. He might have made comments about his future as if he hadn't known, but his plans were made with that expectation. It made Harry nervous, knowing that it was soon to be over. He suspected Voldemort knew as well and would probably avoid any more confrontations where they could meet. They needed to surprise the monster, do something they'd never done before, so that Harry could have every advantage possible.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but shut it. Maybe he should wait to speak with Severus, Thia, and Vance alone about going on the offensive. He'd have a better chance at winning the battle against those three and they'd have a better chance of getting it taken care of.

"What is it, Harry?" Severus asked warily. Harry cast around for some other topic, anything. That's when he remembered the wards.

"I'm sorry about not finishing the wards," he finally said, falling into the chair he must have thrown out of the way in his anger. "At least I got the anti-apparation and the first of the defensive wards up before Voldemort's plea for my attention." He leaned down, resting his head in his hands as he realized just how vulnerable he had let Hogwarts remain. At least Voldemort was too embarrassed to attack again so soon, but maybe some of the non-Death Eaters out there might have wanted to.

He realized that the silence wasn't an angry one; it wasn't even resigned. He glanced up and the awe-filled gazes of those at the table made Harry's stomach turn.

Was his apology that unexpected; did they think that little of him?

His eyes swept down the table to Severus and Thia. He was surprised at the tiny, almost imperceptible smile on Severus' face, barely even a curl of the very corners of his lips. Harry was used to this smile; it was the look that had replaced the one of utter disdain when Harry said or did something particularly idiotic. He still hadn't decided which he preferred. Thia's face was still etched with the worries and concerns she carried, but her eyes twinkled in a way that echoed the meaning of Severus' smile.

"What did I do now?" he asked wearily, running a hand through his hair, trying to keep the fringe out of his eyes.

"Maybe you should look out the window," Severus suggested, the amusement in the man's voice obvious to Harry, though probably lost on most everyone else. Harry stood and walked the few small steps to the window and looked out.

In the thousand years of Hogwarts long history as a school, never had the grounds looked so war-torn and bedraggled.

What had once been the Quidditch stands was now only charred timbers and soot. At the far end of the pitch, two goals still stood, one shorn off maybe ten feet from the ground, the other was a few feet higher. At the near end, only the right-side goal stood, proud and whole, the other two barely even stumps.

The beech tree where Harry had watched the Marauders hang out after their O.W.L.'s exam and where he had spent countless hours with friends was gone; a stump with jagged ends was all that remained.

The edges of the Forbidden Forest were scorched, a bulge at one point where a forest fire must have taken hold marring the normally regular edge.

The ground was pitted from stray spells, a few of the craters almost a meter in size, one almost five meters deep and at least two across.

But Harry barely saw any of this.

Glittering wards hung over Hogwarts, encasing it in something like a snow globe. The pale orange of an anti-apparation ward, the blue of a defense ward, the blood-red of the intent ward, the yellow of the broomstick ward, the deep green of another defense ward, among others, all sparkled in the sky above Harry, casting the devastation below in eerie rainbows.

"How?" he asked, staring up with his jaw slack open as the shifting colors of the wards reminded him of a television program that had shown the Aurora Borealis. "I don't remember anything after Voldemort left. I thought I had passed out right after--" He shifted his gaze so that he could see what the wards were anchored to, sending a silent thanks to Dumbledore for teaching him the Theory of Greats. Maybe Severus and Thia had fixed them. But no, there were no connecting threads to their magical source. The only way those wards could be fueled by Hogwarts' grounds was if he'd been the one to do it.

"There was a short period of time between You-Know-Who's retreat and your passing out," Kingsley answered with a smile. "You were swearing quiet violently while placing the wards. I think I might have learned a few new combinations from you, Rat's Nest." Harry tried to force himself to smile at the joke, but couldn't. Kingsley's deep chuckle barely reached his ears, he was so deep in shock.

"But, they're so bright still," he said, stunned. The wards, if properly done, should fade seconds after being cast. Wards that burned this brightly for so long always burnt the wizard out. It meant death for the caster.

"They're much duller than they were yesterday," Severus said casually. Harry almost turned around to hex that smile off the other man's face. Though, there wouldn't be a smile on the man's face, just in his voice, so what was the point?

"The ceiling in the Great Hall doesn't know what to do with itself," Bill added. "It was designed to ignore the wards, but, as you can very well see, that's what the sky above Hogwarts shows right now."

"I guess that explains why I'm so tired," Harry said, leaning against the wall so that he could see a bit more of the lake.

"They aren't feeding off you, are they?" Thia asked worriedly, concern entering her voice.

"No, no," he assured her, turning around briefly to give her a smile. "They're connected to the grounds. But, if there was a short period between Voldemort leaving and me fainting, and I cast all the wards and connected them to the grounds in that time, then it only goes to expect some exhaustion on my part."

"Of course," Thia said with a shake of her head. "Sometimes your surprises truly go beyond anything I could have guessed."

"Yeah, me too," Harry muttered, running his hand through his hair once again. Sometimes he wished that they wouldn't. It was exhausting. But, there were times, like having a twelve-year-old defeating a basilisk and living, when the surprises came in handy.

Several days later, Harry stood next to Dumbledore's Spire, looking at the funeral pyre for Professor Flitwick smoldering on the bank of the Lake nearby. Several other pyres burned on the grounds, scattered about. The Aurors were preparing a mass funeral for those who had died in their ranks for the morrow. To think, a week ago, he'd been worried about the Potions N.E.W.T. scheduled for the next day. How simple even that life seemed, a week later.

Placing a hand reverently on the white marble before him, Harry sent a prayer to the man it represented. "Professor, help me get this right. Please." He removed his hand and started to return to the castle, looking out over the grounds that were still bathed in the faint light of the wards.

In the three days since the battle, they had accomplished a lot of work. Almost all of the debris had been cleared away. The wizard stonemasons had repaired the break in the wall and were still going over every inch of its length to check for any other weaknesses.

Work had even started on a new Quidditch pitch. It might have seemed frivolous, fixing the Quidditch pitch in the middle of a siege, but most of the people who lived at Hogwarts now weren't warriors. Quidditch had always been a release, something to look forward to and cheer about. Fixing the pitch up seemed to be a statement of rebellion, clearly telling Voldemort that he couldn't keep them down.

Harry walked slowly, joining up with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny who had been standing off to the side to give him some privacy. The two girls had recovered completely from their injuries and Ron was well on his way to recovery. He'd taken it in stride owing a life debt to the Potions master, a fact that made Harry very proud of Ron.

It was hard, at times, to forget the despair he'd felt when Severus had him convinced that Ron was dead. Well, Severus hadn't convinced him, Harry had just jumped to conclusions. He came to that knowledge after watching the meeting for the third time in his Pensieve. But he was positive the man cared for him, something like a son, but more like a friend. If Harry Potter and Severus Snape could truly be friends, then anything was possible--even forgiving Severus his nasty joke.

Come Saturday, Ron would be able to join his classmates for graduation, and after that, he'd be able to join Harry in the Final Battle. Harry still couldn't believe how easy it had been to convince them that they should go on the offensive. Then again, if they remained on the defensive, it would turn into a long-term siege, and they didn't have the supplies to last that long. Planning had already started, with help from a very unlikely person.

Draco Malfoy.

The traitor was a slippery fish indeed. Malfoy had allowed himself to be captured at the gates and questioned by Aurors and a few Order members. After they were satisfied that he wasn't there on Voldemort's orders, things had gotten a bit more interesting. Malfoy had submitted to Legilimency tests given by both Harry and Severus. After the final test, Harry had looked hard at the other teen.

"You want to help us?" Harry asked.

"Only if you help me back," the blond replied, looking at Thia and Severus instead. "I give you all the information I have, and you promise to adjust my term in Azkaban to twenty years."

"Thirty," Severus said.

"Twenty-five." Draco countered. Severus regarded the other Slytherin coldly. "Fine, thirty."

Maybe they should have gone for forty years. Either way, Draco had given them loads of information about Voldemort's headquarters. Though the Aurors had found the location back in February, they hadn't been able to scout out much because of the wards and the people who were constantly surrounding the place. Now they knew the layout and the general location of people, along with schedules for the patrols. Confirmed by Veritaserum and a bit of "unethical" Legilimency, the War Council was putting together a battle plan based on this information.

But first, they had to graduate.

Voldemort had to know that the graduation service was this coming Saturday. If he hadn't already known, he'd have found out when all the formal invitations to the after-party were sent. He wouldn't expect the Light to attack right afterwards.

Harry felt nervous about graduation. He wasn't quite sure why. He could face Voldemort, but this, of all things, made him nervous. Well, to be honest Voldemort made him nervous too. Maybe he just didn't want to say goodbye to Hogwarts yet. He loved it too much; it was his home. Not to mention the fact he really didn't know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

Traveling in the short run, marrying Ginny and creating a life with her at some point, eventually getting a real job, even if it was a stay at home dad.

But, those were vague ideas with no definite plan to get there. Nothing like playing Quidditch with the Cannons, a contract waiting to be signed as soon as it was safe to leave Hogwarts, or apprenticing with a law-wizard once Diagon Alley was reclaimed. Harry envied his friends' plans. Plans like those made the future less frightening.

"What time is graduation practice?" Ron asked bringing Harry out of his thoughts. Ron's voice was raspy and breathy. His heart had sustained the most damage from the curse, and he tired out easily. Given some potions and a few more treatments of spells, his heart would be as good as new. Until then, Harry constantly reminded himself to walk slowly, but not let on that he was slowing down for Ron.

"Eight tomorrow morning," Hermione answered.

"That's criminal, it is," Ron groaned, sitting on the bottom stair leading to the castle, dignity forgotten with these three. He was just too tired to continue up them just now. "Shouldn't have to get up til at least ten tomorrow."

"It was Severus' idea," Harry answered. "At a staff meeting, a few months ago. I think I blew up a caldron in class that day and he was getting back at me."

"Yes, he gave you a particularly pointed glare when suggesting it," Hermione agreed, holding back the laugh that was threatening to escape. "Or was it after you swore at him calling him a--what was it?--'sadistic bastard'?"

"Go stew yourself in a bubbling caldron of some nasty potion, Hermione," Harry muttered. "I'm going to go eat. See you later, Ron. Want to come, Gin?"

"Yeah. Later, Hermione, Ron." They entered the castle. "You honestly called Uncle Severus a 'sadistic bastard' in a staff meeting?"

"Temporary insanity," Harry muttered. Ginny broke out laughing as they neared the Gryffindor table and took a seat with the others.

"What's so funny?" Neville asked and Ginny repeated the tale without hesitation. "Really?" Neville asked eagerly. "I've always wished I had enough guts to say that to his face."

"Then again, is that courage or stupidity?" Dean asked.

"He called it temporary insanity," Ginny answered.

"Not too sure it's temporary," Seamus said, clapping Dean's shoulder and holding on while his laughter nearly shook him out of his seat.

"You know," Harry said, grabbing a roll and standing up, "I suddenly remembered a homework assignment that I forgot to hand in to Remus back in third year. Wouldn't want them to keep me from graduating because of it. See you guys later." His friends continued to laugh as he left the Great Hall. Harry felt a grin spread across his face once he was out of sight. He might not feel up to being the butt of jokes at the moment, but he wasn't above laughing at himself. After all, you couldn't get much stupider than calling Severus 'sadistic bastard' during a staff meeting.

"We graduate into an uncertain world. But, our professors have taught us how to live lives to be proud of and I am positive that our generation will flourish. We have already here at Hogwarts. We will beyond these walls as well."

Harry watched Hermione shuffle her notes and move to take her seat alphabetically in their year. He smiled over at her, clapping. This year they had one less speech because the Valedictorian and Head Girl were one and the same. Harry appreciated it; well, his butt checks did. Already, after the Headmistress' speech (McGonagall had come against healer's orders, not that the healer was in any mind to complain after the Scottish witch's hex), one of the governors, and Hermione's speech, his butt hated these uncomfortable chairs. Maybe he could transfigure it into one of the puffy armchairs Dumbledore used to favor. He wanted to try, but there were rumors of disfiguring jinxes being activated should someone try. Seeing as he still had his speech to give, he wasn't up to trying.

"Next we have the address from the Head Boy, Harry Potter," McGonagall said, motioning for Harry to come forward. He pushed his way through the row until he was able to walk along the aisle to the front platform. He took the stairs, careful where he put his feet with the extra-full graduation robes of deep purple hiding his feet from view.

He stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat. Maybe he should have written something down instead of just winging it. The crowd was laughing and he realized he had said that last bit out loud.

He smiled and looked at them thoughtfully. It seemed that every occupant of Hogwarts was in attendance, and Harry was thankful the weather had allowed for an outdoor graduation. The lake stretched behind him now, and Hogwarts castle loomed off to his right. The seventh years occupied the first rows of chairs, their family and friends filled the rows behind them. The rest of the seats were filled with a collection of refugees, students, and off-duty Aurors. The professors sat on very comfortable looking chairs behind his right shoulder. Clearing his throat once more, he began for real this time, looking directly at his fellow classmates.

"We've had quite an interesting seven years at Hogwarts. But, where's the need in repeating what you already know? I'm sure you remember everything that happened just as well as I: professors we hated, those who hated us, the ups and downs of our pathetic love lives, kilometers worth of essays, basilisks, dementors, a werewolf, dragons, merefolk, centaurs, Death Eaters, Albus Dumbledore. You were there, as was I. There's nothing else for me to say on that.

"Thia Black gave us a very interesting opening class speech two years ago," he continued, looking out at his classmates who had been in that class. "I don't know if many of you remember, but she 'welcomed' us to the Second War. She told us about how her class had been affected and how sad she was that our generation seemed to be haunted by the First War just as much as hers had been. Her classmates are mostly all dead or permanently injured or bear the Dark Mark. Twenty-odd years later, I believe we stand at the same crossroads. Already our class is down by several, pledged to Voldemort."

Harry paused as the crowd beyond shuddered and gasped. He hadn't realized how subconsciously thankful he'd been that the majority of students no longer did that.

"We, who are here, have lost friends and family since that speech. The Wall of Loss has overflowed its boundaries, and there are still more pictures that we need to add from the last battle.

"Already, our generation has been greatly affected by the Wars. How could we not? With our N.E.W.T.'s finished, we have lost the last chance at being treated as children in the coming battles. Some of us will go into battle as warriors, others will stay behind waiting to heal us, still others will help the day to day life of our community continue as best as possible. We're free of Hogwarts and yet we're not.

"Hogwarts has become the last hold out for the Light. Voldemort's servants sit in the village down the road waiting for his next command. They won't know what hit them, when we attack elsewhere. And, unlike before, we will finally be allowed to fight for what we believe in. Voldemort has fucked with our lives for the last time.

"Sorry, professors," he said, looking over at the adults to his right. There had been a slightly angry rustle from a few of the professors, but Harry spotted the tiniest curl of Severus' lips. "But he has."

He turned back to his classmates. "It's time we took action. I know you're ready, whether it's to join the fighting, the healing, or the day-to-day procedures that both the warriors and the healers depend on."

He paused to look out over his class, taking everyone in. They sat in alphabetical order, the tassel wrapped around the base of their pointed hats the only indication of House. Most everyone had some cord of silk around their necks, clashing horribly with the purple of their robes. Harry had a black and red cord identifying him as the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, a white one to represent his position as Head Boy, and a silver one to denote high academic honors around his neck. Many of the other students wore the cords of silver as well. Hermione had a gold cord to signify her status as Valedictorian.

To Harry's eyes, everyone looked so young, so unprepared. In two hours' time, Harry would be preparing for battle, and two hours after that he would have the D.A. ready for the fight to come. Soon after that, portkeys would activate and take them away from Hogwarts and to a battle, the final one. He knew he didn't look much more prepared or wiser than they did, but time had finally run out for them.

"We're barely out of our childhood, only seventeen or eighteen years to our names. Yet in those years we have lived through two wars, watched the rise of a monster, lost family and friends. Many of us don't feel like kids any longer, haven't for months or years. We've seen too much. And we've just now managed to make it to our graduation. Thia was flabbergasted when she watched us immediately put up pictures on the Wall of Loss, and looking at the Wall can be dead depressing.

"We're going to put an end to that. I know we will. I might have to kill Voldemort," Harry frowned again at the shiver that went through the crowd, "but his Death Eaters aren't going to go down quietly this time. They aren't going to let me get close. We're all needed to fight this thing. We're ready. I'm glad I'll have you guys at my back. I couldn't think of a better group. We know what we want, we're willing to fight to the death for it, and we know how to fight for it.

"We'll come out on top. I know we will."

Harry stopped as his classmates erupted into whistling, clapping, and shouting. It would be a tough fight, and it would kill whatever was left of the child in those who would be fighting. Yet, the outcome would be worth it. The possible future was worth it.

"Well, I'm speeched-out," he said with a smile as they started to calm, Dean still whooping like an idiot, "and unlike the professors up here who have cushy looking seats, I know those chairs aren't any better than desk chairs. So, I'll just leave it at that. Graduation is a huge milestone in anyone's life; for us, though, we move on to a nightmare of a reality in a few hours time. But this battle will be the last one and we will win. We will secure a future for ourselves without fear."

He stepped away from the podium and went back to his seat, tuning out the clapping and cheering from the crowd. When he was settled in his seat once more, Professor McGonagall returned to the podium and the four Heads of House (Professor Sinistra taking over as the Ravenclaw Head) were standing next to a long table with the diplomas on it.

"At this time, I'll call out the names of the graduates one-by-one, and they'll come forward to receive their diplomas from their Heads of House." There was a slight pause as she unrolled the parchment list. "Abbott, Hannah," McGonagall called.

The first row stood up and Hannah took the first agonizing steps up and onto the platform, accepting Professor Sprouts' handshake and the diploma, and then shook hands with Severus, Sinistra, Bill, and McGonagall. She made her shaky way back to her seat and sat. Harry watched her let out a huge sigh.

He whistled, later, as Hermione was called forward, clapping til his hands went numb. After many minutes that felt like eternities, it was his row's turn to stand and Harry felt a strange adrenalin rush come over him. He was almost done with Hogwarts.

It was almost a sad thing.

"Patil, Padma."

Almost.

"Patil, Parvati."

Harry watched as Parvati took the path, accepted both diploma and handshakes, and then returned to her seat. He took a deep breath waiting for it, swallowing nervously.

"Potter, Harry."

He started on his way to the stairs.

He remembered the first time McGonagall had ever called his name, during that long ago Sorting Ceremony seven years ago. The older students had started whispering, looking at him as if he was an animal in a zoo. A few of his classmates still in line had stepped out to get a better look at him as he walked forward. It had been his first experience at being the center of attention at Hogwarts, at being the "famous Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived".

Harry looked down at his feet as he climbed the stairs once more, careful not to trip the second time up them.

'This time feels different,' he thought. There was loads of clapping, catcalling, and whistling, nothing odd compared to the other walks that his friends had taken, but it was different. Louder, for sure, and more insistent. Prouder, as if the crowd collectively was a proud parent. Then again, many in Wizarding Britain considered him a second son; they believed they were connected to him that intimately.

He walked forward to stand in front of Bill. It was so odd to realize that it was Bill who was his Head of House not Professor McGonagall--Headmistress McGonagall.

"Congratulations, Harry," Bill said, handing him his diploma. He shook Harry's hand and grabbed his arm with his left hand. "Should cut my hand off and sell it to your adoring public. To think, I was the first to touch Harry Potter after his graduation." Bill was smiling at him and Harry laughed, thankful for the joke. He walked over and shook Sinistra's hand, nodding his thanks when she too congratulated him.

"Very well done, Harry," Professor Sprout said, shaking his hand. "You've grown into a fine young lad."

"Thank you," he mumbled. He took one step and faced Professor Snape. The crowd seemed to quiet as the two looked at one another. He didn't know if it was imagination or not, but it seemed possible either way.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, looking into the black pits of the other man's eyes consciously aware that they both knew and used Legilimency.

"I am loath to say, but Hogwarts will be quite a bore without you here, Mr. Potter," Severus said, and one of the corners of his mouth, the side furthest from the crowd, quirked up.

"I suppose it will be, sir," Harry responded, shaking the hand the man offered, tucking his diploma under his arm, and grabbing the man's arm just as Bill had done to him a bit ago. Harry hoped Severus would understand just how much he appreciated the long hours spent with him, helping him learn everything he needed to know. Hopefully his tight grip on the other man's arm shared that appreciation because there were no words that would convey it properly.

"And, as loath as I am to say this, but in a few years when Minerva is tearing her hair out trying to find a replacement Defense professor--again--mayhap you would do us the honor of tendering an application."

Harry had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping in surprise. Sure, Severus saying that he was an accomplished Legilimens was one thing, but this. Severus never recommended anyone to the Defense job. He only got in the way.

"I'll consider it, Severus," he said, honestly thankful for the advice. His face broke out in a grin as he processed the idea a bit more. "I'd like that, I think. Thank you."

"It was an honor, Harry." Harry nodded, squeezed the man's hand and arm once more in thanks, and then moved to the Headmistress, the woman he truly thought of as his Head of House. She smiled at him as he approached.

"I am very proud of you, Mr. Potter, though I had my worries over the years," she said, shaking his hand. "I know Albus would be just as proud. You have met and bested all the challenges set before you. You might not have been Valedictorian, but you accomplished quite a bit in your time here. I am proud to call you a Gryffindor, Harry."

"Thank you, Professor," he said, smiling up at her, though his eyes held his regret. "I wish--he--was here."

"As I'm sure he does as well. You will come back to visit in years to come?"

"Of course, Professor, but don't think you're rid of me yet. There's a bit of unfinished business first."

"True," she said with a nod. She shook his hand once more and let go, shooing him on. "Well, off with you."

Harry smiled at her and continued to the other set of stairs, finally looking out at the crowd. He rolled his eyes at the standing ovation he was getting and ducked his head to hide the blush. It seemed to be too much honor for something each one of those people had either accomplished already or would in a few years' time.

He sat down and unrolled his diploma, ignoring the Patil twins as they laughed at him. There at the bottom were six signatures: the man from the Board of Governors, the Headmistress, and the four Heads of House. He smiled sadly as he spotted Professor Flitwick's curly signature. How he wished Dumbledore's name was on it as well.

Eventually Ron was walking across the stage, hugging his brother impulsively after getting his diploma. Bill said something that made Ron laugh and Harry could guess it had something to do with the improbability of Ron's graduating. At long last, Blaise was sitting down and the crowd settled back into its quiet stupor.

McGonagall looked down at those first rows filled with the graduates and smiled. Hannah Abbott stood, turning to look at her classmates. They all stood as one, Hannah moved the yellow and black tassel on her witch's hat, and the group followed suit. The magic in the air was palpable and Harry let his eyesight lose focus so that he could see it. Coming from Hogwarts castle itself, the magic washed over them in a benediction of sorts. Harry refocused his eyesight and glanced at the red and gold tassel hanging on the left side of his round rim.

"I am honored to present to you the Graduating Class of Nineteen-Ninety-Eight," she intoned and the students turned to face the crowd and bowed. The magic settled on them and Harry felt it mix with the adrenalin; he would be positively hyper after this. Hats came off and floated high in the air, a feather-light charm paired with a levitation charm cast on them before graduation. Harry noticed that Neville's didn't get quite as high as the rest and fell back to the ground, and he had to smile at his friend's continued forgetfulness.

Harry was quite thankful that some things never changed.

The group filed out of their rows and went to the Great Hall where they would be eating lunch with their families and friends. The great graduation party and end of term feast had been cancelled in preparation for the battle to come. Harry and his classmates used this time to complete any last minute desires to be childish.

Cake was smeared, food was thrown, ice was stuffed down robes, carrots were stuffed up noses, and potatoes waltzed their way across the tables. Somehow Ron charmed their roast chicken to flap around the Hall a few times before resettling itself, quite dignified, on the platter.

The house tables were missing, thankfully, and in their place sat the round tables from the dances and balls. After the pudding, everyone wandered around, saying very odd goodbyes. It was kind of like saying, "Bye Blaise Zabini, Slytherin. Hello, comrade-in-arms."

Kind of.

Maybe it was more like saying goodbye to their childhood or their school days, their school selves. Though they'd being seeing each other quite often in the days to come--Merlin willing--they wouldn't be fellow students at Hogwarts any longer. Some would be Ministry lackeys, others Quidditch players, others apprentices, others shop clerks, and others travelers. They'd still be friends, but it would be different. They'd be different.

Different was scary.

Especially when a battle loomed before you and that more than anything would be what defined you as you began this new chapter in life.

Every time Harry thought about it, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Maybe it wasn't like that for everyone; after all, only he was the one who would be facing off with Voldemort. He was the only one the War pivoted on. It was disconcerting, realizing that Blaise was going to be leading the D.A. to battle this evening. Dumbledore's Army would finally get to test its strength. It made Harry nervous. They'd been training for this eventuality all year, even if none of the professors had realized it until he and Hermione had pointed it out at the Order meeting last Monday.

He felt his thoughts drift back to Voldemort and the coming battle and Harry realized he needed some fresh air to clear his head. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. They had twenty-three more minutes before they had to forget their giddy joy about finally being free of school.

Twenty-two now.

He eased one of the front doors open and slipped out into the early afternoon. It was an amazing day he realized as he sat on the top step. Nature had outdone herself on this day.

He looked up at the blue sky, thankful that the wards had finally faded into an unseen protection. Though it had been an amazing statement to Voldemort (wards that took a week to fade were extremely powerful), it had also given his ward breakers a week to examine just what wards surrounded Hogwarts. Though they had to have ideas after breaking them last week, they would have an even clearer picture about them now. It worried Harry, and he knew it--

"You shouldn't be out here, Harry," Severus said as he took a seat next to the young man, glancing at a pocket watch. "You have sixteen minutes left to enjoy your childish innocence."

"I'm pretty sure my 'childish innocence' was shot a long while ago, Severus." The other man smiled a sardonic and bitter smile in acknowledgement. "Were you serious about the teaching thing?"

"Completely serious," the Potions master replied. "You're work with your fellow students during the D.A. was astounding. All of us were amazed and in many ways humbled by what you accomplished with that club. There wouldn't be a chance this side of hell where we'd let them go into this battle otherwise."

"You don't expect the jinx to break after Voldemort's defeat?"

"So certain of the outcome of the coming battle, are you?" Severus asked, but Harry caught the teasing and ignored it. "That Gryffindor ego will finally come into its proper use no doubt."

"No doubt. But that doesn't answer my question."

"No, it did not," Severus conceded, standing up. "Come back inside and I will consider answering it." Harry followed the man into the Great Hall and smiled at the laughing groups of students even as Severus eyes closed slowly as if he was in pain. "I don't think it will. The jinx will need a particularly stubborn person to break it. Someone even more stubborn than Synthia Black. Someone like you, Mr. Potter."

"I think I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"As you should." Harry laughed and went to join Ron and Hermione in celebrating the last nine minutes they would have today to do such.

Harry set a largish present on his bed and tossed his diploma next to it. The present was the only one he hadn't opened downstairs, but only because he knew what Thia, Tonks, and Remus had gotten him. It had nothing to do with, as Ron had kidded, Harry developing x-ray vision and being able to see through the box.

He threw his hat across the room like a Frisbee and started to get out of the dress robes. He'd never get used to dress robes; at least, he didn't think he ever would. Maybe, if he lived to be as old and eccentric as Dumbledore, he would.

The others in the room were changing as well, Ron cursing because he couldn't get the tiny little button at the top of the dress shirt undone, Neville nearly tripping as he stumbled out of the dress trousers they all had worn underneath the robes. Dean was already pulling on the tee-shirt and jeans he'd wear under the uniform he'd been issued on Wednesday.

The uniforms were similar to the Aurors' robes, but different. They were cut to allow easy movement and to not get in the way during a fight. The white fabric was as light as silk but as tough as canvas; no tougher yet. Spells were woven into the fabric, adding more defense to the students and refugees who would wear them during the coming battle.

Everyone had them but him, because Thia, Remus, and Tonks had bought him his own custom set, fitted just for him. The shirt and trousers that were included were spelled as well, durable and lighter than anything else he owned. Potions of all types were fitted into specially made pockets, a spare wand in another, and a few knives as well. Yesterday, Harry had helped Tonks put everything where it belonged. Though he'd never be as successful with another wand or with the knives, they were a last ditch defense.

Each of the newly graduated wizards in the room had decided to go along for the battle. Every person in the D.A. in the sixth and seventh year had been given a choice: go or stay. There was no shame in staying, not everyone was a warrior. Some would stay to help the healers, others would help prepare a larger infirmary in the Great Hall for the expected wounded, while others would help take care of the younger kids. Several of the D.A. members would be staying behind, not because Thia, Severus, or Harry thought less of their skills. No, it was the opposite; they'd remain behind to head the non-D.A. sixth and seventh years who would be a main part of Hogwarts' defense while the fighters were gone.

'Former sixth and seventh years,' Harry reminded himself. He was no longer a student here at Hogwarts and the sixth years were now the seventh years. He didn't feel any different and that made it harder to remember. He didn't feel more adult now that he had a diploma. Maybe it was because he hadn't been an innocent kid for so long. He'd had quite an interesting seven years, years that had forced him to shoulder responsibilities far beyond his age. Maybe it was just because the diploma was a simple piece of rolled up parch--

"Harry, mate, where you wool-gathering at?" Ron asked, looking over at him. "Get ready."

The look he was giving Harry looked very similar to the one Hermione had given him right before she'd departed up the staircase to the girls' dorm. It was the look of worry that everyone had given him. They, like most people who really knew him, had to be wondering how this battle would turn out. They had to be nervous. Harry could almost hear the questions: "Is this the last time we'll do this with Harry?" or "Is this our last meal with Harry?" or "What will we do without Harry?".

Not that they expected him to fail.

No, it was almost as if they thought that by killing Voldemort, he'd end up dead or something worse. And maybe he would. Ravenclaw's journal hadn't been too specific on what exactly would happen once the spell was cast. It was a work journal after all, and her guesses were as good as theirs about it. Ravenclaw hadn't come back and informed her journal how the spell had worked in the field, or if it had even succeeded. Hell, they didn't even know if those in Ravenclaw's time had even used it. All they had was a vague sense that it made more sense for Ravenclaw to be lauded a hero for the creation of a spell instead of the creation of a banner, well, in addition to the creation of the banner. Both parts were important, Harry knew that.

But he didn't know if he'd survive the spell. If he was required to sacrifice himself for the spell to work, he would do it. There was no question about that. He thought that it was this that bothered his friends. He had sacrificed himself before, and would continue doing so for as long as he lived. It was his nature. They didn't doubt his ability to triumph over Voldemort, but they also didn't doubt his ability to sacrifice himse--

"Gees, Harry, get your head out of the clouds," Ron yelled from the entrance to the bathroom. It looked like he'd just got out from a quick shower. "You're still in your dress slacks. Merlin, don't waste your two hours." Harry smiled at him, trying to reassure his nervous friend. Ron's heart was better, not as good as new, but pretty darn close. Close enough for Nettle, Althea, and Pomfrey to approve him for battle.

He turned back to his bed, and started to remove the paper wrapping around the box. After lifting the lid, Harry found a stack of folded parchment sitting on the tissue paper that surrounded the cloth underneath. He picked the parchment up, looking at his name written in Thia's handwriting.

It seemed to be a letter, so Harry tossed the lid aside and sat down. The box tipped and fell into his side, crushing his diploma between him and the box. He quickly rescued it, but whatever charms on it had protected it from the abuse. After carefully placing the diploma on his bedside table, Harry unfolded the letter and began to read.

Harry,

Congratulations!

I still can remember the feelings running through me during my own graduation and the look of surprise as each of the Marauders and WG's crossed that stage to shake hands with our professors. I'm sure you even made sure the six signatures were on it, just like we did. Top of our classes all seven years and we still thought there could be a way they'd keep us one more year. Sirius in particular had been most scared that he'd be held back.

You looked like quite a stunning young man crossing the stage today. You have your mother's calm and your father's intensity and added together makes into a very strong exterior. I know you have your doubts and problems and issues; you wouldn't be human if you didn't. But I also know you've learnt from your mistake of last summer and that you know that we (Remus, Tonks, me, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Severus, etc) will help you with whatever load you carry in every way we can.

I have been honored to help you grow these last few years and inches into a mature adult. You aren't the scared kid who ran from my classroom after being offered help. I don't think I'd recognize that kid. You've grown up since then. You are no longer a school child, no longer a student at Hogwarts. You'll put your school robes aside and take up a very heavy mantel, one left for you by Albus Dumbledore. It doesn't seem particularly fair, but so is Fate. Your graduation robes were the first step, these Auror-issued robes the next. You've become an honorary-Auror, part of the brotherhood. It wasn't my idea; I actually fought it because I knew you wouldn't want it. But the others who shall remain nameless but include Bolt and O'Neil were adamant and said you deserved the honor. So, you'll find the Auror insignia stitched on since you last saw the robes. Wear it with pride. You have earned the right.

I also feel compelled to let you know how your mother would have reacted to seeing you today, both giving the Head Boy's Address and crossing the stage to receive your diploma. As I said, you looked particularly mature "all dressed up" like you were, but she'd have been proudest of that black cord around your neck. She, not your dad, would have been so thrilled about your Quidditch Captaincy. She was crazy insane when it came to anything to do with Quidditch. Sure, sure, she would've been proud of the High Honors and your Head Boy status, but it would have been the captaincy that would have made her cry watching you cross the stage. She wouldn't have missed a game of yours, Harry. Even if it isn't the done thing to have parents come to Hogwarts' Quidditch matches. She still would have, even if it meant borrowing your dad's cloak. Merlin, she hated that thing.

Remus wants me to hurry up so that he can close up the box and wrap it, so this is it. I'm immensely proud of you and can't wait to see just what you accomplish during the rest of the years of your life.

Congratulations!
Thia

Harry re-read the letter once more, smiling at the information about his mum. Thia had been a great connection to his mum, better than Aunt Petunia had ever been. He thought of his relatives back on Privet Drive. What would they say in a letter to him concerning his graduation from "that freak school" of his? He frowned at himself; there was no point in dragging up wounds from the past.

And they were the past. Harry set his thoughts concerning his relatives aside, promising himself never to return to them. The Dursleys were on their own, for good or bad. Harry wouldn't bother them and they had no way of bothering him. The past was over and his future would never include them.

He set Thia's one page letter on the bed next to him, upside down, and looked at the next letter. On first glance it seemed to be written in Runes, whoever it was having more faith in his education than he deserved. But, on closer examination, he realized that it was just really bad handwriting, worse than Ron's even. He stared at the name for a while at the end, and realized that it was from Tonks.

Wotcher, Harry!

That is such a catch phrase, isn't it? Remember when I used it to inform you that the gritty old man who made you do yard work was really me? I felt so bad 'bout doing it, you seemed to need to talk to someone from our world, but Figgy wasn't home and the DEs didn't know she was one of us. Blah to them.

Well, I'm only writing this letter because Thia and Remus are making me. Something about this being the surprise for our gift 'cause you know what the rest of it is. Not that I don't want to write you a letter or it's not that I don't care enough 'bout you not to write a letter. I'm just really, really bad at the whole letter-writing thing. Just ask my dad. I hardly ever wrote a letter home, maybe once a year. And I love my dad loads more than I love you, I mean, you just can't compete with the man who had to put up with me as an annoying little kid and a moody pre-teen and a weird teenager and... well... you get the picture.

And it doesn't help that I can't think of anything that I can't just tell you in person after the graduation ceremony. I mean, I'm sure Thia and Remus will go on and on about how proud they are and how proud your parents would be of you. Well, I am proud of you, but I bet I told you that like half an hour ago for you while I hugged the life out of you. So, what's the point of me writing this thing?

Well, it keeps Remus happy, and that's a plus. I'd end it here, I mean, I've got three good paragraphs, but Remus is watching me as he rocks Caitlan. I could pretend I've actually written something worthwhile and inspirational, but Remus can always smell the lie on me. If he was anyone else, I'd be able to pull it off, but that damn werewolf has a nose like... well... a wolf. And it's the only way he knows I'm lying and I bet Caitlan will be able to smell my lies too.

Shit!

What am I going to tell her when she asks where babies come from? She'll be able to tell that I'm lying 'bout the stork! OH SHIT! I can't do it. I'll send her to Remus. They'll be all close because of that whole werewolf-pack-thingy. He'll be able to handle it, and he'll do it if I ask him too. I'm sure he would. And if not, maybe I can get Thia to do it. She's braver than me, being a Gryffindor and all.

Funny how I never considered giving "The Talk" when I thought about being a mum for Caitlan. All I could think of was rocking her to sleep and her first steps and words and teaching her to fly and getting her Hogwarts letter and good things like that. Never did I think of diapers and sleepless nights and giving "The Talk". Not that I thought it would be perfect; we knew there'd be issues with such an early bite and medical bills and that kind of stuff.

Remus wants us to have a kid of our own once the war winds down. Not that I don't want it either, but he's not going to be the one who's going to suffer through hell for nine months or work behind a desk or have bloated ankles or craving ear wax flavored jelly beans at three o'clock at night. Oh, no! That'll be me!

And before you say that I'm over-reacting and making things up with the whole ear wax flavored jelly bean craving, I'll have you know that my mum craved them regularly while pregnant with me. I routinely blame most of my oddities on this fact and the rest of my oddities on all the times my dad dropped me on my head. Three times in the first month. They stopped counting after that because Grandma Tonks was getting depressed.

Dang, check out the length of this letter! Not that I've managed to write anything inspirational or worthwhile yet. There Remus goes, glaring at me again, as if he knows. Let's see something inspirational.... something worthwhile...

I've got nothing. That's what I keep Remus around for, I'm sure he'll have lot's of advice. That's just not my thing. I can't wait til you have kids of your own and have to give them "The Talk" and I'll be sure to laugh at you. I'm sure you won't be able to pass it off on sibling-in-laws like I'm going to try. No way Bill or the twins would let you off the hook that easily and I'm sure Ron would turn beet red if you asked him. HA! That would be so funny to watch. I'd pay good money to see it! HA!

Oh, thank Merlin, Remus has finally left to put Caitlan down for the night. I'm sure you'll look good all dressed up in your graduation robes. I'll be sure to have a camera ready and all that jazz. You'll want proof of your graduation, more so than that diploma. They say that you can't destroy it, but that's a lie. I managed to destroy mine. It seems that punch doesn't go well with diplomas.

Congrats on all the cords you'll be wearing and what not.

I give up. Read Remus' for the advice. I give up.

~Tonks

Harry smiled as he set Tonks' two page letter on top of Thia's and looked at what must be Remus' letter underneath. He remembered the neat handwriting from when Remus had been their professor.

Harry,

It seems to be a shame that of all the Marauders, I'm the only one to see you graduate. Even Peter had a soft spot for you, way back when. Hell, he let Ginny into your cell and left it unlocked so that she could get you out of there. Sirius was so proud of you, and proud to be your Godfather. Fate was cruel, tearing the two of you apart so that you couldn't learn more about each other.

And James... Well, I'm sure the proudest day of his life wasn't his graduation, from either Hogwarts or AA, nor was it his wedding day. It was the day you were born and he met you, his son. Lily and James were so excited about you and raising you. I'm pretty sure that both of them had plans for just about every day of your life up until today, your graduation day. Things to do and things to play with, Quidditch to watch and play, things to learn and things to discover. I know James wanted to teach you all the secrets of Hogwarts that we learnt during our years there. I always found it fitting that the Marauders' Map managed to get into your hands, even though I KNOW that Filch confiscated it from us in our last month of schooling.

Fate has had it out for you, or so it seems. Hopefully, today will be a turning point for you. A time to put the past in the past, to accept it as who you are, but not letting it define you. I know you have great potential. You have inherited most of the best parts of your parents, though you did get your dad's looks, unfortunately for you. You've managed to get some of their shortcomings too, but you've learnt to temper them. You'll take everything you've learnt, and apply it in the days to come. Short term, in your fight against Voldemort. In the long term, in any problems you encounter. You have been well taught and you learnt all your lessons with a stunning stubbornness that reminded me of both your parents.

Ever since I saw your Protronus I knew you'd be, eventually, ready to take on Voldemort. After today's battle, you'll be free of the Prophecy that has ruled your life. You'll be able to actually LIVE, something I know has been hard for you thus far. If you need help, for anything, our door is always open to you and I will always listen to you and help if I am able.

Congratulations on finishing Hogwarts and good luck on finishing Voldemort.

I am so very proud of you, as I know your parents are.

Remus J. Lupin.