Leoneco Nathair

"Leoneco Nathair!"

Voldemort raised his wand to defend himself, but the spell hit him before he could utter a word--not that it would have helped him had he been able. His wand dropped from his hand and he began shaking, roaring with pain.

Harry held his wand pointed straight at Voldemort's chest, his whole body shaking with exhaustion--the spell seemed to be draining him of energy. The more he put into it, the more it demanded, until it seemed like the only thing keeping Harry from collapsing was the fierce determination to finish off his old nemesis once and for all.

But it was working. Voldemort was getting weaker and weaker by the second, his roars and screams getting louder and louder. Finally, Harry gathered up his remaining energy and concentrated it through his wand, forcing the spell with all his might. The jet of light surged, brightened--Voldemort let out a final, wrenching scream--and then he was gone. The spell died. Harry was alone in the chamber, chest heaving with exhaustion, trembling arm still outstretched, pointing his wand at the spot where Voldemort had made his final stand.

Slowly, he lowered his wand, never reverting his gaze from the spot. I killed him, he thought numbly. Voldemort is dead. The wand slipped from his shaking fingertips and clattered on the filthy stone floor, bounced once, then lay still. Still he did not remove his gaze from the spot where Voldemort had last been. Somehow, despite the fact that it had been his job from the beginning, despite having known all along that either he or Voldemort had to kill the other in the end, he had never seen himself killing Voldemort. As he had told Hermione that summer evening almost two years before, he couldn't take another life. It wasn't his nature.

From a combination of shock, horror, and exhaustion, Harry stumbled backwards until his spine met the wall. Slowly, he slid down the stone until he was sitting on the floor, his breathing slowing now but still heavy, coming in gasps. I've got to get out of here, he thought to himself. I have to tell Dumbledore that it's over for good...I have to find Hermione, make sure she's okay...

But he knew that he needed to rest a bit before he made it out of there. He decided he'd just sit for a minute until his breath came back. Against his will, his emerald eyes started to close. He tried to fight back the sleep, tried to keep his eyes open, but it was like trying to hold back the ocean waves with a piece of paper...slowly, reluctantly, like rusty garage doors, his eyelids lowered and shut...

Harry left the fighting of the Death Eaters to the others; he knew what he had to do, whom he had to follow. He had to find Voldemort. He had to stop him if he could. And Voldemort was headed for the second floor. Harry instinctively knew that he was headed for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom...and the Chamber of Secrets.

Myrtle was the only one there when Harry arrived, but she looked horrified. "Myrtle!" he gasped out. "Have you seen anyone come through?"

Myrtle nodded. "It went through there," she said, pointing to the sink in front of her stall...which was open, revealing the gaping maw that was the Chamber of Secrets. "I don't know what it was, but it didn't seem human...and it looked angry at me."

"Thanks, Myrtle," Harry told the ghost. "If anyone comes looking for me, let them know where I am, but tell them to be careful."

Myrtle promised, and Harry jumped into the hole without a second thought. If Voldemort got under the school...who knew what might happen?

The rocks that had piled up Harry's second year had been knocked aside, clearly by someone who was very annoyed they were there. Harry ran through, hurried to the already open chamber door, and ran inside.

Voldemort was there, his arms folded over his chest, smirking. "Potter. I have been expecting you. Allow me to introduce you to someone."

"You mean the basilisk?" Harry said coldly. "We've met. It didn't go well for your precious pet." He jerked his head towards the left, where the mostly-decomposed body of the gigantic snake still lay with a huge hole through the roof of its mouth...and one missing fang.

Voldemort was temporarily startled, but his smirk quickly returned. "Well. No one down here to hear you scream, Potter. Just you and me."
"This ends now, Voldemort," Harry said in the same cold voice, a voice that didn't seem to be entirely his own. "You've gone far enough."

"Oh, no, Potter," Voldemort said silkily. "This ends...but not for me, for you. Crucio!"

Harry ducked the curse skilfully, rolled to his feet, and pointed his wand directly at Voldemort, who merely laughed. "You can't win, Potter. Beg for mercy and perhaps I shall spare your miserable existence!"

"What kind of fool do you take me for?" Harry said harshly. "If I believed that for a minute I still wouldn't beg to you. If I must die today, I refuse to die on my knees."

"You do take after your parents," snarled Voldemort, raising his wand. "They were miserable fools too...refused to back down and beg, dying straight-backed and proud. And for what?"

Harry's eyes blazed. "My parents," he said with quiet fury, "died standing and fighting for one person, a person they cared about--me. I stand here fighting for over three hundred people I care about...one in particular," he added, his thoughts straying briefly to Hermione before snapping back to the here and now. "I'm not going to die on my knees. I'll fight for them to the end."

"And in the end the results will be the same," Voldemort laughed. "You and all those you fight for will perish."

"No, I don't think so," Harry said coldly. He raised his wand. "Goodbye, Tom Riddle."

Voldemort's snake-like eyes widened as Harry yelled the incantation he hadn't realised he'd known until that very moment. "Leoneco Nathair!"

Harry's eyes snapped open suddenly. Instead of looking at a stone wall, he found himself looking at blue skies. Something is wrong here. Warily, he sat up.

He ached. He ached all over. His every muscle protested as he raised himself to a sitting position, but he ignored it and looked around him.

He was sitting by the side of a road, a long, dirt road that seemed to lead off into nothingness. More than that, the road appeared to be very rough going, as though it had been torn up and broken. He couldn't see anything for miles in either direction. But it was a road.

"Well," Harry said aloud with a small sigh, "every road's got to lead somewhere." He stepped out onto the road and started heading along it. Clouds of dust swirled around his feet in some places. Tufted grass scratched his skin through his torn socks and slacks in others. Rocks and pebbles littered the road in still others. Several times he stumbled where the path was too rough. Twice he tripped and fell to the ground, but quickly got up and kept going. He didn't know why it was so important that he get up and keep going, but he did it quickly. It seemed to take him a little longer to get up the second time.

After the roughest part of the road yet, Harry stumbled again and fell with a small cry to the ground. Momentarily dazed, he didn't get up for several seconds. When he did, however, he moved a little more cautiously, making sure that he didn't trip over anything again. Something seemed vaguely familiar about this whole path, but he didn't know why. And it was vaguely unsettling, the way it seemed to keep getting rougher and rougher. Still, he kept moving. And then, suddenly--the road ahead was shrouded in a heavy mist. Harry stopped. He could no longer see what was coming. He couldn't be sure there was anything ahead for him to put his foot on, nothing he would trip over.

"Hey, Sonny Jim, you stuck or something?"

Harry turned sharply and discovered a young woman, not much older than he, with friendly blue eyes and white-blonde hair. "Where did you come from?"

"Jumpy, aren't we? I've been here waiting the whole time you've been walking. Someone told me you were coming and I'm supposed to meet you." The woman stuck out her hand. "The name's Rowena."

Harry eyed her suspiciously. "I...I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

Rowena raised her eyebrows. "All right then, Harryharrypotter, I suppose you'll want something to eat. You must be starving."

"Not really." As he spoke, his stomach growled loudly.

Rowena laughed. "Your stomach appears to disagree. Come. Lunch first, talk later. You sore?"

"I'm fine," Harry lied. In truth, the walk down the path had definitely not helped his aches from the battle. He felt as though he'd been crushed in a rockslide.

Rowena frowned at him. "I'm guessing you're one of those people who likes to downplay their pain so as not to bother others, right?" Suddenly and without warning, she socked him in the shoulder. It hurt. A lot.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Did that hurt?"

Harry frowned bemusedly. "Well, yeah...I think I had a couple of bruises there anyway..."

"Good, then you're not dead yet."

"I'm not what?"

"Dead. Deceased. Passed on. Gone to meet your maker. Pushing up the daisies. You have not ceased to be. Get the picture?"

Harry shook his head. "I guess...but why'd you have to hit me to make sure I wasn't dead?"

"Because you wouldn't tell me if you were in pain," Rowena explained, grabbing his arm and dragging him off the path to the side. Harry winced at the pain this caused, but didn't say anything. "If you can still feel pain, you aren't dead. If you can't, you are. Simple as that. What was on the path in front of you?"

"I don't know. It was covered in mist."

"Oh, well, you're really not dead then. If you were dead, you'd have seen clearly what was coming, and it would've been beautiful to behold." Rowena stopped before a neat white house and released Harry's arm, allowing him to rub it discreetly. "Here we are. Home sweet home." She rapped firmly on the door, a distinct rhythm--tap-pa-tap-pa-tap-tap.

The door opened barely a second later. "Glory, Ro, took you long enough! What were you up to? Counting the molecules in the rocks?"

"Cut the comedy, 'Ric, and let us in," Rowena grinned amiably. "Sonny Jim here's had a hard road, from the looks of him, and he's starving."

The man in the door, a tall man about Rowena's age with red hair and unusual gold eyes, threw a sharp glance at Harry. "What's your name, kid?"

"Harry. Harry Potter."

The man grinned. "Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Godric. Most folks just call me 'Ric."

"Nice to meet you too," Harry said, more politely than honestly. "Listen, thanks for inviting me in and all, but I've really got to be getting back. My friends are going to be worried about me."

"He isn't dead," Rowena added, seeing Godric open his mouth.

Godric nodded. "Oh. Well...won't take very long to get a bite to eat. Plus you've got a decision to make."

"I have?"

"Sure. You gotta decide if you want to live or die." Godric led Harry into the room. "Ro's here!"

"'Bout time!" grumped a man on the sofa. He looked very much like Godric; in fact, the two could've been brothers but for the fact that the man's eyes were green, his hair a silvery blond. He looked up and noticed Harry. "Who're you, Titch?"

"My name's Harry, Harry Potter," Harry answered. He was getting tired of having to introduce himself.

The man stuck out a hand. "Name's Salazar. Nice to meet ya."

"Likewise." Harry shook the man's hand and winced. Salazar had a very strong grip and Harry's hand was still sore.

A young woman, looking very much like Hannah Abbot, came out of the back room. She had yellow-gold hair and sparkling black eyes. "Oh, there you are, Rowena. You brought another friend, good. What's your name, dear?"

Rowena said cheerfully, "This is Harry."

The other woman smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Helga." She frowned a little. "Are you tired?"

"A little," Harry admitted. "I haven't sat down all day..."

"Sit," all four chorused. Rowena pushed Harry onto the sofa. He had forgotten how good sitting down felt.

Helga turned towards the kitchen. "I'd better let the others know...I know Ced likes any excuse to get out of the kitchen, poor boy. He's sure no cook."

"You're too soft on your lot by far, Helga," Godric teased.

Helga put her hands on her hips. "Now, just because he was in my house--" she began.

"I'm not that soft on my lot!"

"Your lot is a group of rowdy pranksters," Helga retorted. "You can't be soft on them. Ced's a good kid and you know it."

Godric threw up his hands. "Why can I never win with you? I pull all the stops!"

"Godric, Godric, Godric," Salazar said, shaking his head. "When will you learn? There are two theories to arguing with a woman. Neither one works."

Helga laughed and went into the kitchen. "Guys, Rowena's here. She's brought someone new with her too."

Someone in the kitchen groaned. "Send in the rescue squad. Can't leave whoever it is in there alone with that lot."

"I heard that," Salazar yelled.

"I know," whoever it was sang back.

Teenage laughter rang out, and a tall, handsome, powerfully built young man came into the room. Harry's heart stopped beating for a second. Those grey eyes, that smile, that nose--Harry knew this person. "Cedric?"

Cedric froze and stared at Harry. "Oh, damn," he said finally. "Tell me you aren't dead."

"He's not...he's still got to make that choice," Rowena informed him, leaning back in a recliner. "You two know each other?"

"Went to Hogwarts at the same time." Cedric hesitated, then added, "He was the other Triwizard champion--and Harry, I know what you're about to say, and it wasn't your fault, so quit beating yourself up over it, do you hear me?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut and nodded. Rowena looked surprised but didn't say anything.

Cedric helped Harry to his feet. "I know you're exhausted--you look it--but you've got to come into the kitchen for a minute. There are people in here you need to talk to...they'll help you with your choice."

Harry followed mutely, wondering who would be in there. Cedric stopped him in front of three people, all with their backs to the door. One was a young woman, not much older than Cedric, with long red hair, who was bending over a stove and stirring something. A tall man with messy jet-black hair was sitting on the counter, talking to a man with dark brown hair, who was sitting backwards on a kitchen chair and laughing. Harry's stomach twisted sharply. His mother. His father. And Sirius Black.

"Um..." Cedric said nervously, glancing at Harry as though unsure how to proceed.

"Brought Ro's fledgling in, did you?" James said jovially. "Good...save his sanity. Or is it a girl?"

"It's a guy. I...um...I think you'd like to meet him."

James turned to them and stopped. "Oh, God."

Sirius looked over at them as well. His eyes widened. "Oh, no..."

"What's got into you two?" Lily demanded, turning around. Her eyes stopped on Harry and widened. "Harry?"

Cedric nudged him forward. Harry winced as Cedric's hand came in contact with a bruise. "M-Mum? Dad? S--" Harry swallowed as he turned to his godfather. "Sirius?"

The kitchen froze for the briefest of minutes. Suddenly, with a clatter as the high kitchen chair hit the ground, Sirius sprang across the kitchen floor to embrace Harry. Harry hugged him back fiercely, tears in his eyes. James vaulted off the counter and joined in the group hug. Even Lily abandoned her pot and came over to hug her son.

Sirius finally pulled back and looked down at his godson. "Harry, it's so good to see you again," he said brokenly. "But how did...what did..."

"He isn't dead," Cedric spoke up.

"He's going to be the only one," Helga called from the living room. "Might want to set out a couple extra plates, Lily...the call just came through. Three more coming up here they want us to host, at least for a while. They're definitely dead, by the by--no possibility of being still alive like Harry."

Lily tore herself away from Harry reluctantly and set out four extra places at the table. "Dinner's ready anyway, so as soon as they get here we can eat."

Helga stepped outside. "I see three people coming," she reported. "Looks like a kid, a man and an older man." She started waving frantically at them. "You guys go sit down--we'll eat, then we'll talk."

"Fine with me." Salazar stood up and moved into the kitchen with everyone else following, Harry feeling a little bewildered at being shunted back and forth so quickly. Sirius insisted on Harry sitting between him and James. Four seats were left open--one each for Helga and the three newly dead people.

Helga came in cheerfully. "Welcome aboard," she said warmly. "Going clockwise, this is Rowena, Godric, Salazar, Cedric, Sirius, Harry--who isn't dead--James, and Lily. Guys, meet the newly-deads."

Harry looked up and froze. In the doorway, behind Helga, stood Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore.

James looked up and choked. "Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

"Good afternoon, James." Dumbledore took the seat Helga indicated.

"Severus," Sirius said with forced calm.

"Sirius," Snape replied with equally forced calm. He sat farthest from James and Sirius, next to Rowena.

Harry looked up at his best friend. "Ron..." he said slowly.

Ron gave Harry a kind of sick grin. "Hi, Harry."

"Good, everyone knows everybody," Rowena said cheerfully. "I'm sensing a little entropy down this end, but..."

"But, everyone's going to be civil or Helga's going to staple your tongues to the wall," Salazar cracked.

"Don't be ridiculous, Salazar," Helga said, batting her eyelashes. "Why would I staple their tongues to the wall? I'd use a nail gun."

"Nail gun's jammed," Godric contradicted. "Wouldn't hot glue work?"

"Nah, it's not strong enough for something like that." Rowena's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Say, what did I do with those bow and arrows?"

"They're blunt tipped, Ro," Sirius said with exaggerated patience. "Now, a steak knife maybe..."

"Sirius Orion Black, if you even suggest using one of my knives to pin someone's tongue to the wall, I'll staple your testicles to the ceiling," Lily threatened.

James held up his hands. "Time to stop, folks. Lily isn't joking about that one."

"You guys were?"

"I thought your sister was supposed to be the blonde one, Lily."

"Kiss a tree."

"Your insults have deteriorated over the years, I notice."

"Kiss. A. Tree."

"Can we eat now?" Cedric interrupted. "I thought we wanted to talk to Harry before he had to go back, and if he's gone too long people will start panicking."

"Go back?" Ron repeated, looking bemused. "Go back where?"

"Chamber of Secrets," Harry answered quietly. "I'm not dead."

"He's--mmph!" Salazar broke off as Helga clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Why the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron began, but Lily cut him off.

"Excuse me. This is the dinner table and I do not permit any discussion of this sort while we are eating. Once we've finished, we can talk all we like. Now, eat."

"Yes, ma'am," Godric saluted.

"Oh, like you needed any encouragement," Rowena said, rolling her eyes theatrically. Godric punched her good-naturedly in the shoulder.

Harry hadn't realised how hungry he was until he started eating. Conversation came mostly to a standstill, although Salazar and Godric still managed to goof off with one another. When everyone had eaten, Lily collected the dishes and put them in the sink. "I'll do them later," she said, shepherding everyone into the living room. "We need to talk first."

Sirius looked seriously at Harry as everyone sat down. "First things first. How did you get here?"

"I walked."

"Before you got on the road, wise guy."

"I fell asleep."

Sirius sighed. "Harry, are we going to have to drag this story out of you kicking and screaming? What were you doing before you fell asleep?"

"Fighting Voldemort."

"What?" yelped Lily and James in unison.

Harry spilled out the entire story--where he'd been, what had been said, what had happened, the spell, everything. "I still don't know where that spell came from, or what it was for, but it sure worked."

Helga frowned. "Leo...lion...nathair...snake...neco..." She narrowed her eyes and turned slightly. "Godric?"

Godric, who was twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling, looked down in evident surprise. "Who, me?" he said in a tone of entirely unconvincing innocence.

"Yes, you. What do you know about this spell?"

Godric hesitated. "Well...obviously an old spell, roots in Latin, evidently taken directly from the Latin for some purpose..."

"Where did it come from, Godric?"

"Erm--well, that is, you see--"

"This wouldn't by any chance have been one of your so-called 'precautionary measures', would it?" Helga interrupted.

"'Precautionary measures'?" Sirius repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "What precautionary measures?"

"Well..." Godric mumbled, evidently choosing his words with care. "I didn't want...but I never expected...certainly didn't think..."

Rowena's eyes suddenly flashed. "Godric Alexander Gryffindor, you didn't."

"I certainly didn't intend to use it myself!" Godric said defensively. "And I didn't write it down or anything! I don't know how he found out..."

"I told him."

Rowena, Helga, and Godric turned to Salazar in astonishment. "How did you find out, mate?" Godric asked, awed.

Salazar grinned a little. "You, like most people I've met, have a very loose tongue when you get drunk, even if you're dead."

"Oh," Godric said sheepishly.

"We'll discuss the drinking in a minute," Helga said sharply. "Why on Earth did you...?"

Godric sighed. "It was right after that huge fight, before I had time to cool down. I vowed to myself that there was no way I'd let another one of his family get away with something like that...so I developed the spell, figuring..." He let the sentence hang. "Once I calmed down a little, of course, I forgot about it."

"What was the fight about?" Lily wanted to know, tucking a stray red curl behind her ear.

Salazar shifted in his chair. "I wanted to be more selective about who we accepted into Hogwarts. I mean, some of the students...I felt like they shouldn't be studying magic at all, never mind at Hogwarts."

Lily's eyes flashed. "Muggle-borns, right?"

"No, whatever gave you that idea?" Salazar blinked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, maybe there were one or two who were Muggle-born, but there were half-bloods and purebloods too. Why would anyone think I disproved of someone because of blood?"

Ron looked astonished. "Our history teacher--Professor Binns--told us that you didn't believe anyone of Muggle parentage should be accepted."

"History has a way of getting warped, Ron," Harry reminded his friend quietly.

"Especially when said history is written by Godric Gryffindor," Rowena added with a scowl, throwing a nasty look in Godric's direction. "You started that rumour, didn't you? You told your granddaughter that Salazar hated Muggle-borns, and she spread it around school."

"No. I told Luc. He told Silence."

Helga sighed and waved her hand. "We'll continue this conversation later, but first we'd better get a little more out of you, Harry." She looked Harry directly in the eyes. "Harry...what do you want to do?"

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?"

"She means," James said quietly, "would you like to stay here--with us--or would you like to go back to Hogwarts, back to your body?"

Harry stared at his father in astonishment. He hadn't expected to be given a choice. Choice or no choice, it didn't really matter to him.

"Harry?" his mother said gently.

Swallowing, Harry glanced down at his hand and fingered something. "I...I have to go back," he said hoarsely. "Don't get me wrong...I'll miss you all and I'd love to stay, but...I can't. I..."

Ron grinned at him. "Hermione, huh?"

Harry managed an answering grin. "Yeah."

"Hermione?" Rowena repeated, eyebrows shooting up. "Who's Hermione?"

"Harry's best friend," Sirius answered.

"Girlfriend," Ron said with a wicked grin

"Fiancée," Harry reminded his friend.

"Since when?"

"Valentine's Day, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

Lily chuckled. "A Valentine's Day proposal...you're your father's son, all right."

"No, I took you out to dinner on Valentine's Day," James corrected his wife. "I proposed on graduation night."

"That's right." Lily studied Harry thoughtfully. "How'd you pull it off? Dinner in Hogsmeade?"

"No," Harry said, so vehemently everyone was surprised. "I do not do Valentine's Day dates. Once was enough, thank you very much."

"Do tell," Helga said, sitting forward and looking at him intently. "What happened?"

Cedric held up a hand. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Cho, right? Last year?"

"Two years ago," Harry corrected him.

"What happened?" Helga repeated.

"What didn't?" Harry muttered. He related the events of that particular Hogsmeade visit.

Cedric took a deep breath; Harry suspected he was trying not to laugh. "I wish I'd had a chance to warn you," he said. He was trying not to laugh and not succeeding very well. "She's not exactly the nicest person in the world. She probably didn't tell you, but we broke up about a week before that last task, and not on much more amicable terms than you did."

"That wasn't when we broke up."

"It wasn't?" Godric shook his head. "Lad, I admire your tenacity. When did you break up?"

"Later that year, after Marietta Edgecomb snitched on the D.A.," Ron interposed. "Right?"

"Something like that, yeah," Harry nodded.

"Marietta Edgecomb?" Cedric rolled his eyes. "Please. Ten to one it was Cho who snitched, and she just blamed it on Mari..."

"No, it was Marietta," Ron assured him. "It's written all over her face."

"Literally," Harry added. "Hermione enchanted this contract we had to sign...anyone who told Umbridge about the D.A. would suddenly develop a set of large purple pustules that spelled SNEAK."

There was a moment's pause, and then the entire room exploded with laughter. Salazar fell out of his chair, he was laughing so hard.

When the laughter finally subsided, James stood up. "Okay, Harry, if you really want to get back, we'd better go. I'll walk you to the gate..."

"Wait for me, I'm coming too," Sirius said, rising.

Harry stood too. "Thanks, everyone. I've had fun..."

"Bye, Harry," Ron said with a rueful grin. "Tell Ginny I love her."

"Will do. Bye, Ron."

Lily hugged him tightly, then let him go. Sirius put his arm around Harry's shoulder; James, on his other side, did the same. Together, the three started down the path.

"Po--Harry!"

Harry turned around. Snape had come out on the porch and was staring after him, looking uncomfortable. "Yes, Professor?"

Snape swallowed. "Take care of yourself, Harry. And congratulations."

Harry managed a smile. "Thanks, Professor. Try to enjoy yourself--you've earned it."

A half-grin tugged at Snape's face. "You have too--twice over. Good luck."

Harry nodded to Snape, then turned and went on with his father and godfather.

The road back to the gate didn't seem as long as the walk to the house had. James and Sirius didn't seem to want to talk much. Harry, wondering if anyone had found him yet and if they thought he was dead, wasn't in the mood to talk a lot either.

"Are you sure you want to go back, Harry?" Sirius said suddenly.

Harry looked up at Sirius in surprise. Sirius hadn't changed much from his usual stoic self, but Harry could see the tears in his godfather's haunted eyes. Guilt wrenched his stomach. "I--I'm sure," he said quietly. "I'm really sorry, you know how I feel about everything, but..." Tears stung at his eyes too and he couldn't finish. Sirius squeezed his hand a little tighter.

James turned to look down at his son. "Harry, don't you ever feel guilty about making this choice," he said in a gentle but firm voice. "Sirius and your mother and I love you, and we always will, and we miss you a lot. But we aren't the only people who will miss you. I saw the light in your eyes and heard the love in your voice when you talked about Hermione. We don't have any right to keep you from going back. Besides, they need you. If you want to stay, you can, but you don't have to. Don't feel obligated."

They had arrived at the gate at this point. Sirius stopped, turned, and looked at Harry. His eyes filled with tears again. Without saying a word, he hugged Harry fiercely, crying openly now. Harry, crying as well, hugged him back, then turned and gave his father a hug as well.

James ruffled his hair. "Take care of yourself, son."

"I will, Dad. I love you--I love you both."

"Good." James smiled. "Now go on. I don't want to see you back here for a long time."

Harry managed to smile through his drying tears and saluted. Then he faced the golden gates squarely, head set, and walked through the portal without any hesitation. James and Sirius watched until he had been swallowed up by the mist.

"He didn't even look back," Sirius murmured, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"He didn't need to," James said quietly, putting his arm around his friend's shoulders. "He knows where he's going."

The path seemed determined to keep him back, but Harry plunged ahead regardless, thoughts of Hermione pulling him onward. The path started sloping downhill--he was running now--a wind was blowing in sharp gusts, trying to throw him off, all the time moaning his name...Harry...Harry...Harry...

"Harry! Harry, are you okay? Harry, wake up, please wake up! Harry!"

Harry's eyes snapped open. He was sitting in the Chamber of Secrets on the floor, his robes torn and singed. Red dust clung to the hems, a souvenir of his trip down the road. Hermione knelt anxiously in front of him, her brown eyes wide and frightened, her brown hair a mess. There was a rather nasty-looking cut on her cheek; it was bleeding rather badly.

Harry reached out a shaking hand and brushed it. "Hermione," he said in a slightly hoarse voice, "what happened to your face?"

Hermione placed her hand over her cheek--and over Harry's hand. "One of the Death Eaters knocked down a wall, part of it hit me...Harry, you did it, we won. The Death Eaters are all surrendering...their Dark Marks are glowing white, which apparently means Voldemort is gone for good...but Harry, we aren't sure who's died and who survived, there are a lot of people unaccounted for."

"I can think of three," Harry said quietly. "Snape, Dumbledore, and Ron didn't pull through."

Hermione gasped. "H-how do you know?"

Harry told her about everything--the road, Rowena, Salazar, Godric, Helga, his parents, Sirius, Cedric, the dinner...Hermione's eyes were wide as dinner plates when he finished.

"You...you had to choose whether or not you'd come back? Oh, Harry, that must've been a hard decision..."

Harry thought about it and smiled. "No...it wasn't a hard decision at all."