Pieces of Us

Chapter 2: Casualties of War

When Harry woke the next day, he suspected the residual happiness had faded slightly. The night had been filled with guilty dreams of those who had passed on before him and had left his body covered in a slick sweat. Shifting in the hospital bed, Harry moaned. His muscles still ached, and the excessive perspiration left him feeling uncomfortably hot and sticky. He desperately wanted to forget the horrible dreams about parents, Cedric, Sirius, Hagrid, Percy, and the others who had died, but he could not prevent the familiar procession of guilt knotting up his stomach. If only I had...

But as Harry lay on his side, albeit a bit awkwardly, he felt certain that the strength of the anger had diminished. Now, it felt more like a memory of an emotion than an actual emotion. Harry knew he should still be angry for his losses, but he could no longer force himself to be. Justice had been extracted; Voldemort and his Death Eaters were dead.

Beneath the fading guilt and happiness, Harry sensed another emotion. As he thought about it, Harry realized that he had absolutely no idea what to do with his life. In all honesty, Harry had never been sure he'd survive the final battle with Voldemort, so he hadn't really bothered thinking about what he would do if he did survive. I've fulfilled my destiny... Now what?

Harry stared at the ceiling for a long time, contemplating his future. In his fifth year, he had wanted to be an Auror, but Harry was positive he'd had his fill of Dark wizards for the time being. There is always Quidditch... People always said you were as a good as Charlie, and he could have played for England, he thought. Visions of professional Quidditch streamed into his head, distracting him from hearing the hospital door open.

"Oh good, you're awake. How are you feeling?" Remus asked, interrupting Harry's amazing catch of the Snitch at the Quidditch World Cup. Remus gently closed the door behind him and walked over to inspect Harry. "Any pains?" Remus did not specify a location of the pain, but his blatant glance at Harry's scar revealed his meaning.

Harry felt a faint smile reach his lips. "No... no pain."

"At least, none of the physical kind?" Remus said shrewdly, settling into a nearby leather chair.

At this, Harry nodded and sat up in the bed, thankfully noting that it was much easier to do so than yesterday. He considered mentioning Quidditch to Remus, just to see what he thought, but the serious expression on Remus's changed Harry's mind. Harry wondered what bad news Remus was here to deliver and braced himself. "What's-"

"Harry, I cannot even begin to understand what you are going through," Remus interrupted, and Harry got the distinct impression that his old professor had practiced this speech before. "But you and I are the last the Marauders..." Remus trailed off. He had so desperately wanted to approach Harry with the topic confidently, but the very thought of Padfoot, Prongs, and Pettigrew (Remus could not think of him as Wormtail anymore) made his insides hurt. He cleared his throat.

"Harry, I want you to live with me. I think that, with... with Sirius gone, I think your parents would have liked it if I became your guardian instead. I know you're almost eighteen and capable of living on your own, but I thought that at least for the summer, we could keep each other company." Remus forced a smile, hoping to conceal his anxiousness. "Unless you had other plans, which if that's the case-"

"Remus, I want to live with you," Harry interrupted. The look on Remus's face was so priceless that Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You look like I just said I'd go on a date with you," Harry joked. "Maybe next Wednesday, 8:00? We'll have to see, like Bill said, I'm quite popular."

Remus joined in laughing, marveling at the change that Voldemort's death had invoked in Harry. The angry, lost, haunted Harry had just about disappeared, replaced by a happy, joking seventeen-year-old boy with his whole life ahead of him. It's sad, but I've never really heard Harry tell a joke until now, Remus reflected.

"Well, it's settled then. Once the hospital deems you healthy, we'll go flat shopping," Remus said, his excitement shining through.

Harry sighed in relief. Though he very much wanted to live with Remus, he had been inwardly very hesitant to stay at number 12 Grimmauld Place, which he, Remus, and Tonks now co-owned.

A few years ago, he would have gaped at Remus if he mentioned flat shopping since the previous state of Remus's robes had very much revealed his financial position. However, Harry knew that Sirius had left a substantial amount of money to both Remus and Tonks. Harry felt a strange pang of happiness at the memory of Sirius's will. Sirius had said that normally he would have given Harry money as well, but James and Lily had left Harry more money than he could possibly ever spend. Sirius was afraid Harry would become "a rotten, spoiled git" like Draco Malfoy and proceeded to list all of the things he thought of Draco Malfoy in his own will.

At the thought of Draco, Harry realized that if Snape were gone, then Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, was certainly dead. A small feeling of pity rose in the back of his throat. Harry knew what it was like to lose a parent, even though he had lost his parents as a baby. Never thought I'd feel bad for Malfoy. Guess there really is a first for everything.

Remus saw Harry's frown and surmised he was thinking about the various casualties of war. Undoubtedly, there's been a lot, Remus thought. There wasn't a day that passed that he didn't think of Sirius. Transformations had become more difficult, as his wolf counterpart was unable to understand that Sirius was dead. So each full moon, Moony mourned the absence of Padfoot with the hope that he would someday return. And Remus the human awoke each time with a dream that could never come true.

The two sat in reflective silence until a motherly looking Healer bustled in. "Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?" The Healer began tending to Harry's various cuts, muttering things that reminded Harry of Madam Pomfrey. He glanced helplessly at Remus, whose smirk held little pity for Harry. 'Let her,' he mouthed.

Harry frowned but ultimately just shrugged and let the Healer haggle him about "how dreadfully dangerous" fighting Voldemort had been. As if I had a choice about it, he silently remarked.

She was, however, extremely grateful for him having "been such a brave dear" and defeating Voldemort. Harry was now strongly reminded of Mrs. Weasley and he could tell by the way Remus was humorously eying her that he too had noticed the similarity.

"Well, Harry, I need to leave... more meetings at the Ministry," he said apologetically, glancing at the Healer who was muttering admonishments under her breath as she prepared a few foul-smelling potions in the corner of the room.

Remus stood and readjusted his professional black robes, and Harry only now noticed how expensive they looked. No doubt a result of Sirius's will, he mused. Remus caught Harry's eye and nodded knowingly.

"Oh," Harry replied, feeling disappointed. "How is the Ministry coming along?" he asked, attempting to distract himself from the potions in the corner. Remus inwardly sympathized; he didn't fancy being in Harry's shoes at the present moment. Admittedly, Remus had never tasted anything as disgusting as the Wolfsbane potion, but the smells emanating from the Healer's potions were not a good sign of things to come.

Remus sighed and inadvertently ran his hand through his graying hair, though Harry swore it was browner than the last time he had seen Remus. "Things at the Ministry are... hectic, to say the least. Poor Arthur is practically ragged, though Molly has been working just as hard to help him. They are working on changing things... but some things might take a long time."

Seeing the look on Harry's face, Remus smiled. "Don't worry Harry. Everything will all work out in the long run. A lot of good, honest people are coming out to help the Ministry. Besides, a Ministry run by Weasleys is bound to be successful," he joked.

The joke worked. Harry's face immediately reverted back to the smile that was quickly become normal for Harry. He deserves it, Remus silently declared. He deserves to be happy. "Well, Harry-"

"Ugh, what is that disgusting smell?" Ron exclaimed, as he barreled his way through the room. Hermione and Ginny followed close behind Ron and Harry noticed they too wrinkled their noses, though they did not vocalize their disgust.

"That disgusting smell is what will help your friend heal," the Healer scolded. She carried three green-colored potions to Harry's bedside. The potions smoked similarly to the Wolfsbane potion, and Harry saw Remus shudder.

"Ah, I see that backup has arrived, so I'll be off now," Remus declared and winked at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. With a 'pop', Remus was gone. Harry felt a pang of sadness at his departure; the visit had cheered him up significantly.

"Hiya mate. How you feeling?" Ron plopped into Remus's recently vacated chair.

"I'm-"

"Fine," Ron, Hermione, and Ginny finished all together.

Harry laughed and was about to reply when the Healer said, "All right dear, drink up." He regarded the potions apprehensively and turned to his friends. Their reactions were just as he suspected. Ron and Ginny were staring at the smoking flasks as if they contained poison, while Hermione only gestured to the potions encouragingly.

"Oh, all right," he mumbled and reached out for the first potion. When he brought the flask to his lips, he heard Ron whisper to Hermione, but he could only make out the word "Polyjuice." He shuddered slightly at the memory and quickly poured the liquid down his throat. Disgusting, he thought. No surprise there.

After finishing the potions, the Healer informed them that Harry could leave the next day as long as he kept a "clean bill of health." Afterwards, she turned on Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, and claimed that upsetting Harry could "cause serious damage to his recovery." She even wagged her finger at them, making it very difficult not to laugh. Harry rolled his eyes as she exited. The Healer was definitely channeling Mrs. Weasley or Madam Pomfrey. Maybe a mixture of both, he smirked.

"That reminds me. Remus asked me to live with him," Harry told the group excitedly, anticipating their surprise. However, instead of shock, Harry got guilty expressions and two Weasleys with red ears. Harry was certain they must have already known, especially after they faked surprise rather terribly.

"Harry, that's wonderful," Hermione spoke smoothly.

"Yeah, mate, that's great," Ron said to the floor, and Ginny kicked him. Ron's shoulders shook as he rather blatantly tried to hold his laughter inside. Absolutely terrible liars, Harry decided.

"Harry, that's really fantastic news," Ginny said sincerely, looking directly into his eyes. Harry couldn't help it; he glanced down at the bed sheets, somewhat unnerved by her easy gaze.

Harry smirked at their obvious pretense. "You don't seem very surprised..."

The red blush in Ginny and Ron's ears moved to their cheeks, but Hermione held her own. "Of course we're surprised Harry, why wouldn't we be? That's really great news, are you going to stay at number 12, Grimmauld Place?" Hermione began smoothing his bed sheets and fussing with his pillows, but she avoided his stare. Ha, Harry thought. You can't fool me.

"When did he tell you?" Harry asked casually.

"Oh, yesterday," Ginny automatically replied. Her pale hand flew to her mouth and she looked mortified. "Oh no..." she mumbled. I promised Remus! Damn, Ginny privately cursed.

"Ha! I knew it wouldn't be me to ruin it." Ron's fist shot out triumphantly, but a look from Hermione caused Ron to rapidly drop his hand back to his side.

"I'm really sorry, Harry. Remus only told us because he wanted to know if we thought it was a good idea," she explained hastily. "We weren't trying-"

"I know, I know." Harry quickly headed her off, feeling ashamed that Ginny had been so quick to apologize. During his fifth and sixth year, Harry had flown off the handle at almost any given moment due to extreme moodiness. He had vastly improved in seventh year, but the idea of people keeping secrets or discussing him behind his back had still set him off.

"Poor Remus," Ginny murmured absently, and this time it was Ron who kicked her. "Ow! Ron, you big prat!"

"Ginny!" he hissed. "We weren't supposed to say anything to upset him." Ron was speaking very low, and Harry was almost amused. Did Ron think he had covered his ears or disappeared?

"About what?" Harry asked. They all uncomfortably stared at the floor, and Harry tried his best to control his annoyance. Just calmly ask them. They are your best mates. They wouldn't ever intentionally keep something from you unless they had to. Like the spell. "I'll be fine, please tell me what it is."

Hermione was astonished by Harry's calmness but quickly banished the look. How would I like if someone looked at me like that when I was being rational, she mentally berated herself. "Mr. Weasley is trying to make some changes at the Ministry, but others are not being so liberal, particularly towards werewolf rights."

"Oh," Harry said. Many people struggled to accept werewolves, especially after many of them joined Voldemort during the war.

"So they told Remus that he could help rebuild the sodding Ministry but not to expect a job once it was over," Ginny spat. "Stupid gits."

Ron's face was contorted much like Ginny's, and it struck Harry how much the two looked like alike when angry. Except Ginny is much prettier... he quickly expelled the thought. Harry and Ginny were strictly friends, he reminded himself. Oh yeah, just friends. Except you don't gawk at Hermione and think she's the most brilliant person you've ever met...

"I just can't believe that after all Remus has done and sacrificed, they still won't give him a bloody job!" Ron muttered. Bloody bastards! To hell with them, he angrily thought. Hermione placed a placating hand on his shoulder and nodded sympathetically, and Ron was extremely grateful she couldn't read his mind. Don't swear, Ron! he lovingly mimicked in his head.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are furious, of course. I expect they will do what they can eventually, but everyone is just so suspicious right now. I suppose they are afraid it will be like last time," Hermione reasoned, though deep down she felt the same as Ron. It wasn't fair to Professor Lupin. He deserved proper respect for his role in the war.

"There was a bloody body this time! You can't get much more proof that it's over than that!" Ron roared at no one in particular, slamming his first into his other hand. "And the bloody Death Eaters and Dementors are dead! It's OVER!"

Ginny nodded emphatically and muttered, "It's bloody ridiculous, really. I hope they rot in hell."

"Ginny!"

"Sorry Hermione, but you know it's true. And Ron was thinking it too."

Harry was surprised. It had never occurred to him that Voldemort was human enough to leave a body behind, but after Voldemort's return to physical form in his fourth year, it made sense. "I wonder what Remus will do then," he murmured.

"Well, it's not like he has to do anything. After Sirius-" Ron glanced at Harry, who remained impassive at the mention of his godfather's name. "After Sirius, he doesn't need to work."

"True," Ginny replied. "But we all know he wants to work and he's earned the right to. Besides, with the Wolfsbane Potion, he's virtually harmless."

Sensing that the topic would only carry them in circles, Harry broached another one of the delicate questions that had been brewing in his mind. "Any news about the people in the Great Hall battle?"

Hermione stiffened, while both Ron and Ginny stared at the floor. "Some," she said softly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered. His stomach was already filled with knots as he imagined a littered battleground of Hogwarts students. "Just... tell me the truth."

"We were lucky, really," Ginny began in a very low voice. She was afraid of how Harry would react, and she only hoped he would see that none of this was his fault. "Most of the people weren't anyone we were close to. But still... they didn't-" She paused and took a deep breath, fighting to control her emotions. "Twenty-one people died at the attack. There wasn't a reason; they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. It could have been worse, but since Voldemort had cast that spell... We were very lucky," she reaffirmed, but tears began pouring down her cheeks.

Harry's voice croaked as he said it, but he had to know. "Who died?"

"Four Ravenclaws, four Hufflepuffs, three Gryffindors, four Slytherins, three members of the Phoenix, and three teachers. Well, four teachers if you count Snape. A lot of them were kissed by bloody Dementors so I suppose they aren't dead but soulless," Ron said, his voice growing steadily angrier.

Taking a deep breath, Harry simply asked, "Who?"

"The Ravenclaws were Stewart Ackerly, Mandy Brocklehurst, Sally-Anne Perks, and Lisa Turpin..." Hermione trailed off, feeling wrong for not truly knowing who the students were. "The Hufflepuffs were Eleanor Baddock, Laura Madley... and Hannah Abbot and Ernie Macmillan." Hermione's deadpan face broke, and a few tears fell down her cheek before Ron tenderly wiped them away and grasped her hand.

Harry winced. He had not known many of the students listed, but he had known Hannah and Ernie, as both had been in his year. Hannah and Ernie had been Hufflepuff Prefects and joined the D.A. in their fifth year. The two had generally supported Harry throughout the years and he wished he had let them know how much their support had meant to him. Now I'll never get the chance.

"Who else?" he mumbled. "What about Gryffindor and Slytherin?

"Gryffindor lost Geoffrey Hooper, Eloise Midgeon-" Ron visibly flinched "and... Andrew Kirke," Hermione replied.

Harry involuntarily gasped and then grimaced. After a fight with Draco in Harry's fifth year, he and the Weasley twins were banned from playing Quidditch. Andrew had replaced one of the beater spots for the twins, and when Harry returned to the team sixth year, he'd grown to know him as a friend. In fact, Andrew turned out to be a very fine beater, once he became more confident. As Andrew's past Quidditch achievements (such as a very well aimed bludger at Malfoy's arse in their final match against Slytherin that year) streamed through Harry's head, he felt tears swell at the corners of his eyes. "Go on now. What about Slytherin?"

Ron answered with grim satisfaction. "It was Millicent Bulstrode, Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott."

The last three students mentioned surprised Harry, as they all had been sons of Death Eaters. "How-"

"Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott started attacking younger students... Hannah and Ernie tried to defend them, since they had been in the D.A., but one of them killed Hannah almost instantly..." Ginny whispered. "Apparently Hannah and Ernie had been engaged. Ernie was so angry that he killed all three of them... but Goyle's father saw him do it and killed him too."

Anger rose in Harry's stomach, making his blood boil. Where was the justice in that? Hannah and Ernie had been good people. They had deserved to survive the war, get married, and have a family of their own. And now, they never would. Harry gripped the sheets tightly, trying to come to terms with the losses they had suffered. What if I had-

Ginny placed soft hand over one of his clenched fists, and Harry felt his anger and tension instantaneously dissipate. "It's okay to be angry Harry... but don't blame yourself. You did not do this," she warned gently. He nodded, knowing that she was right but unable to will his guilt away. I didn't kill Hannah and Ernie, Death Eaters did, he reminded himself. At least they are all dead now, he thought, though deep down he knew it was a small consolation for the loss of two good friends.

In spite of his guilt, a wave of happiness swept through his body as Ginny's fingers slowly lodged their way through his own. He noticed Ron and Hermione's curious glances and was pleased to see that Ron's face was simply curious opposed to angry. He shuddered slightly. Ron's wrath was not something he'd want to risk facing, though, as he glanced at Ginny very quickly, she'd be worth it. He glanced once more, and she stared at him openly.

"What about the teachers?" he asked, trying to distract the others from the red blush that was moving across his face as he tightly clutched Ginny's hand. She responded with a firm squeeze and began tracing small circles with her thumb. Harry had never felt anything quite like it.

Hermione's tears hastened at his question, and Harry's happiness was replaced by an enormous sense of dread. His fear caused him to grasp Ginny's hand even tighter, but she didn't flinch. "Who? Who was it?"

"Trelawney, Sinistra, and Filch," Ron muttered. "Those bastards. Filch couldn't even defend himself, but he snuck a huge lot of first, second, and third years into the dungeons. Death Eaters caught him in the end, but he'd done something to the door so they couldn't get in." The admiration in the boy's voice was evident, and Harry wondered how Filch would have felt if he found out that students actually respected him for what he had done. He's probably rolling over in his grave right now, Harry mused. Him and Snape.

"Trelawney and Sinistra were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had been sharing dinner in the Divination Tower, which is where the Death Eaters and Dementors established a base of sorts after breaking through the wards there," Ginny said, shaking her head sadly.

"I suppose the wards were a bit weaker there to allow for a more clairvoyant atmosphere," Hermione muttered. Harry could tell she was caught up between declaring divination as rubbish and pitying the loss of Professor Trelawney, whose small number of predictions had significantly helped the Order. Though Harry had never particularly liked Filch or Trelawney, knowing that he would never be falsely accused by Filch or hear Trelawney predict his horrible death haunted him all the same.

"What about the members of the Phoenix?"

Ginny and Hermione began crying harder, and Harry felt a prickle of fear. "Not Tonks or Moody," he asked fearfully. Weren't they with Dumbledore? he wondered anxiously.

"No, not Tonks or Moody," Ron assured him. "It was... Mundungus, Hestia, and Kingsley."

Harry's heart plummeted. After meeting the members in his fifth year, he'd grown to know the three of them, though not as closely as Tonks and Moody. He closed his eyes, remembering them.

No matter the crisis, Kingsley's voice had always calmed Harry, as he slowly and confidently let him know the plan of action. Not that he'd always been serious. He remembered when Bill and Kingsley compared earrings, arguing whose was more "dashing."

"Do you remember the time Bill and Kingley were comparing earrings?" Harry asked.

"Blimey, I'd forgotten about that," Ron answered. "I'd never seen Mum so speechless."

Hermione glanced at them curiously. "I don't remember this."

"Oh, I don't think you were there, Hermione. It was the most brilliant thing ever. Mum was nagging Bill about his earring, and Kingsley decided to rescue Bill. So he accused Mum of being a racist since she never nagged him about his earring." Ginny started laughing at the memory.

"So he starts saying things like, 'I want equal opportunity here, Molly!' and Mrs. Weasley's face turned this really brilliant shade of red and she kept sputtering," Harry said.

"Then, he says, 'Just because I'm a black man doesn't mean you have to give me special treatment.' By now, Mum's figured out the game and proceeds to tell him how 'absolutely ridiculous' he looks with a 'dreadful earring' at his age," Ron explained.

"I'm disappointed I missed it. I liked Kingsley a lot. Hestia too," Hermione noted weakly.

Hestia had always struck Harry as too young to be part of his advance guard, but she had laughed and told him that her pink cheeks only made it seem that way when he'd told her so. She had told him about her two sons at home, and how she missed them. He remembered asking her why she was putting herself in such danger when she had a family. Hestia had smiled softly, and said, "Because my family's worth it. I don't want my sons growing up in a world where they have to be afraid of a name. I don't want them to grow up like you and your friends, Harry. You're all good people, and you deserve better than what you've been given. No child should grow up in a world where they could be killed at any given moment. It's not right, it's not fair." The impassioned speech had stuck with Harry for a long time, and he hoped he would someday meet her sons. I hope they know how brave their mother had been.

As his thoughts turned to Mundungus, Harry no longer bothered to hide his tears. He met Mundungus one night after Mundungus had ditched guard duty for a "business opportunity" involving stolen cauldrons. Unfortunately for Mundungus, Harry had encountered Dementors that night, though Harry had been grateful since the incident lead to his removal from Privet Drive. The entire Order had been furious with Mundungus, but Mrs. Weasley was absolutely livid. After that, she and Mundungus clashed constantly, particularly after she caught Mundungus storing the stolen cauldrons--the very ones he had acquired the night of the Dementor attack--at the Headquarters. However, after a while, everyone grew accustomed to the strange smelling thief, especially after several occasions in which Mundungus proved his loyalty beyond belief. By then, Mrs. Weasley had given up on admonishing him for sharing his exploits so on extremely boring nights at Headquarters, Mundungus would amuse Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Harry and often time the twins with his outrageous tales.

"Mundungus," he muttered softly and felt Ginny squeeze his hand.

"Do you remember his stories? I think he was mental," Ron joked.

After an hour or so of honoring the three members' memories, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny shifted towards happier topics like their plans for summer. Harry tried to follow along, but he could barely make out the words of the conversation as he relaxed in the bed.

He wasn't sure why, but any anger and guilt he knew he should be feeling felt like it was being pushed far, far away. Twenty-one people were dead, some of who Harry cared about, but Harry felt quite content. Maybe it's the spell, he wondered sleepily. If it is, I don't care. I like being happy for once. A feeling of drowsiness had begun traveling through Harry's body and, combined with the reassuring pressure of Ginny's hand, Harry fell into a comfortable, guilt-less sleep.