Harry Potter and the Antiquity Link

Chapter 2

The Funeral

Harry turned over in bed the next morning, knowing it was time to get up, but wanting to put it off a little longer. He'd had a dream involving Dudley and the Dursleys, but in the dream, he'd been an equal family member, and it was as if they were a normal family. Dream on, he thought sardonically.

He reluctantly opened his eyes, and immediately registered that another face was right in front of him, only a few inches away. "Aaaaaggghhh!" screamed Harry, who recoiled away in shock, adrenaline suddenly pumping through his body.

Fred laughed uproariously. "Goddamnit, don't do that!" shouted Harry angrily, though even in his shock he knew he couldn't really be angry with Fred, who was still not finished laughing. "Oh, dear," said Fred as he struggled to speak while laughing. "That was sooooo worth it..."

Only Harry's affection for Fred stopped him from berating Fred further. He caught his breath as Fred's laughter started to die down. Still, he couldn't stop himself from noting, "I guess this is part of the reason that some people do that spell that keeps out ghosts."

"Something like that," agreed Fred. "But I know you won't." Don't tempt me, thought Harry. "Funny thing... when I laugh, I catch my breath, even though I'm not really breathing. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"I suppose you're going to do this to everybody in your family?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," agreed Fred. "But it probably won't be as funny as it was the first time." Fred chuckled again at the memory.

"Glad I could help," said Harry sarcastically. He had finally calmed down; he felt that his heart rate was almost back to normal. Hell of a way to get woken up. "I guess you can be pretty sure that your family won't put up that spell, the..."

"I don't know what it's called either. I think of it as a 'keep out' sign. But yes, I think I'll get a lot of latitude."

Harry remembered something he'd thought of yesterday. "You know, I wanted to say thank you, for helping out in the battle."

Fred shrugged modestly. "Just so long as I'm thought of as a hero, then it's all worth it."

Harry hadn't really expected a serious response, but he was sure that Fred knew he was serious. "I'm sure it'll get mentioned at the funeral today."

"I'm looking forward to it, hearing all those nice things about myself. Of course, I suppose it'll be kind of grim. I was hanging around the Burrow yesterday, and it's not really a happy place. But in a few days, I hope to change that." He zoomed around the room in a circle a few times, then went under the floor, and up through the bed. "Well, must be off. See you later."

"Bye," said Harry as Fred sped through the wall. What's he going to do all the time, wondered Harry. It must be boring, being a ghost.

Harry got dressed and went downstairs, where Kreacher was preparing breakfast. How does he know when to do it? Wonder if he puts the same charm on me when I'm sleeping that Kingsley did the other day.

He looked at the Prophet that was on the table waiting for him. The main article was again about the new government, but at least the headline wasn't critical of Kingsley this time.

Shacklebolt To Take Aggressive Steps Against Death Eaters, Sympathizers

"Those Who Supported the Old Regime Must Be Held To Account"

New Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, installed as temporary Minister only three days ago by the Council of Elders in the wake of the collapse of the Death Eater-controlled previous government, indicated yesterday that he would not be forgiving of wizards who actively supported that government.

Insisting that he wanted justice, not vengeance, Shacklebolt said, "I take my lesson from what happened seventeen years ago, when Voldemort was defeated for the first time by Harry Potter. Only his most fervent supporters were sent to Azkaban at that time; many more who should have ended up there were allowed to go free, claiming to have been Imperiused, blackmailed, or bewitched in some other way. Those claims were often accepted at face value, without being carefully checked out. In retrospect, that was obviously a mistake, a mistake I do not intend to repeat."

Shacklebolt gave no specifics regarding how he intended to get at the truth, saying the matter was still under review. Asked if he was considering the use of Veritaserum on suspected Death Eater sympathizers, Shacklebolt gave the same answer, conspicuously refusing to rule it out.

Observers note that a likely reason that many Death Eaters were allowed to slip back into society seventeen years ago was that the use of Veritaserum was considered, but in the end, rejected. At the time, the strongest opponent of its use was Albus Dumbledore, who said its use was morally wrong because it forced a person to testify against himself. Dumbledore's influence helped turn the tide of the debate in his favor, but this time, no one of such stature is known to oppose the idea. Only Harry Potter could be said to have similar influence, and he has not been heard from since his triumph over his old nemesis.

Asked whether it was possible that his aggressive stance might reach too many people and cause a backlash, Shacklebolt dismissed the idea. "I know that a lot of people, especially but not only in the Ministry, did things they would rather not have done but had to do. I will be understanding of that. Even though I and many others personally fought against Voldemort, I did not expect that everyone would endure great hardship in order to do so. I make a distinction between those who did what they had to do and no more, and those who went out of their way to be helpful to the Voldemort regime, who did more than they needed to do to avoid persecution and punishment. Failing to hold accountable those who strongly supported Voldemort dishonors the rest of us."

Shacklebolt initiated the process by ordering the arrest and detention of sixty-two individuals, mostly Ministry officials, who were well-known supporters of the old regime; so far thirty-two have been apprehended and confined to Azkaban pending further investigation. Shacklebolt has promised that each case will be reviewed by the Wizengamot before final judgment is passed, but he said that first the Wizengamot itself must be cleared of Dark influence. Most prominent among those recently arrested is Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, who was said by many to relish her work of prosecuting--some say persecuting--Muggle-born wizards.

Shacklebolt again indicated that repairing relations with Muggle-born wizards would be a priority, announcing the formation of a new section of the Ministry which will be responsible for assisting and looking out for the interests of Muggle-born wizards. It will be called the Wizarding Unity Department and its leader will posses Undersecretary rank, an indication of the department's importance to Shacklebolt. "It is important not only to me, but to all of society," clarified Shacklebolt. "Recent events have shown where blind prejudice can lead, and in view of what happened, it cannot be argued that this department is not necessary. If some among us do not have rights, then the rights of all of us are threatened." Asked if that included the right to not be forced to incriminate oneself, an obviously irritated Shacklebolt repeated that the matter was under review, and he would have no further comment.

Finishing the article, Harry thought it seemed reasonably fair, but that the writer had taken a real swipe at Kingsley in the last sentence. He found that he had no problem with the idea of Veritaserum being used, and he was surprised that Dumbledore had disapproved of it seventeen years ago, since he used it to get the truth out of Barty Crouch after Voldemort returned. He assumed the sending of thirty-two people to Azkaban had quieted the Prophet's notion that the government was in 'chaos.' I guess the Aurors, at least, will do what he tells them to do.

On the inside of the paper, there was an article about the ordeals that persecuted Muggle-borns had faced, and one about Hogwarts, which Harry found of particular interest. McGonagall was quoted as saying that N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s would be held, but since there had been such disruption in the academic life of the school, the testing for the subjects of Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts would be held in late August, and students would be offered special summer intensive classes in order to prepare.

He hadn't even thought about his school life since Voldemort's defeat; all he knew was that a year ago he'd written off the N.E.W.T.s, since what he had ended up doing was far more important. Should he try to do anything about them? Was it even important? He wasn't sure, and like most other matters regarding his future, he didn't want to think about it.

He read various books for the next hour, though he wasn't especially interested in any of them. Sometimes there was nothing to do except read, but reading seemed too much like schoolwork, and it seemed strange to do schoolwork when you had no school.

Though he tried to read, his mind wandered to the funeral. He felt that while he would be happy to spend time with the Weasleys, part of him--the purely selfish part, he admitted to himself--would rather stay at home. Why do I feel this way, he wondered. Because I know I'll be pestered relentlessly when I go out in public? Because I've been with other people for months on end and just want to be alone? He had never been that good at understanding feelings, even his own. Hermione would probably know, he thought wryly. These musings were interrupted by Kreacher bringing the catalogs he'd asked for. He spent the next few hours looking through them, with much more interest than he'd had in his books. Finding several items he wanted to buy, he filled out the order forms, then remembered with more than a twinge of regret that he had no owl. Kreacher, however, was more than happy to go out and round up the items that Harry had indicated. Deciding to have lunch with the Weasleys, he put away the catalogs and headed for the fireplace.

Stepping out of the fireplace, he saw the face he should have been prepared to see, but wasn't. Ginny had clearly been dusting the living room when she heard the fireplace and turned around. Suddenly he didn't know what to say, or do. "Hi," he said.

"Glad you came, finally," she replied, with a neutral tone. "We were beginning to wonder if you didn't want to see us." He realized that she had deliberately used the wrong pronoun, and suddenly understood her attitude. It had never occurred to him that she might be unhappy that he hadn't made it a priority to see her, now that after so many long months, he finally had the opportunity. He didn't understand why she hadn't just come to Grimmauld Place, though, as Ron had.

"I do. I just... need some time." He hadn't planned to say those words, but they were what he felt. He suddenly felt exposed, having accidentally said what he was thinking.

She looked at him for a moment, impassive. He hoped she wouldn't take his words as a lack of interest. He didn't want her to give up on him, but he didn't feel ready to get more deeply involved just then.

She glanced down for a few seconds; he couldn't see her eyes. "Well, you have been through a lot," she said, her voice still neutral. "This is the first time you've left Grimmauld Place since then?" He nodded. "When would you have left if not for the funeral?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea," he replied.

She nodded. "Well, I'll tell them you're here." As she called out "Harry's here!" loudly, a part of him wanted to say something to her to make her feel better, as he knew she couldn't be happy with what he'd said. But it was too late, and he realized there was nothing he could say anyway, or he probably would've said it already.

Molly briskly walked into the room, followed by Arthur. Her expression was that of someone trying to put on a brave front as she hugged him tightly. "Harry, dear, how are you doing?"

"Fine," he answered as he returned her hug. He knew it was far from true, but to answer any other way would invite questions he didn't want to answer.

"That's good, dear," she responded, holding his shoulders. "You know, don't you, that you can come here any time you want? You can consider this house as if it were your house." Her tone didn't admonish him for not having come, but her eyes did.

"I know," he said, understanding her message. "Thanks." She'd made him feel as though he should explain himself, but he resisted the urge, as he felt he shouldn't have to.

"Harry," Arthur greeted him with an outstretched hand, which Harry shook.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Weasley," he said sincerely. "All of you."

"Harry, we'd like you to call us Arthur and Molly, now that you're of age. We've already told Hermione."

"That's right friendly of you, Arthur," said George pompously as he entered the living room.

Despite his mood, Harry couldn't help but smile. "Not you, George," said Molly sternly as George offered Harry his hand. Harry saw Arthur suppress a smile. Harry held back the impulse to ask George how he was doing; it seemed like a very insensitive question under the circumstances. He settled for nodding as he shook George's hand.

"Come on, then, lunch is almost ready," said Molly, putting her arm around Harry's shoulders and guiding him toward the kitchen. Just then, Hermione, Ron, and Percy walked down the stairs together. Walking faster, Hermione reached Harry first, and hugged him. "I haven't seen you for three days, it feels strange," joked Harry as she let him go.

"We just needed a break from each other," she responded in kind.

Percy stepped forward tentatively and offered his hand. "Harry, I'd like to apologize..."

Shaking his head, Harry accepted the handshake. "You already did."

"Yes, but to you specifically. I was part of what made your life difficult, so, for what it's worth--"

"You came back and fought Voldemort," replied Harry; Percy squirmed a little on hearing the name. "That's all the apology I need. But thanks." Molly shouted into the living room, and they all headed into the kitchen. Harry exchanged greetings with Charlie, and they sat down.

Molly had prepared a large spread of food, and plates flew across the table, two almost colliding in midair. "Clockwise, clockwise, how many times do I have to tell you?" Molly chided Ron, the apparent offender.

"It's nice to see that nothing has changed around here," joked Percy.

"You mean that it's clockwise, or that Ron disregards the rule?" asked Ginny, making a face at Ron.

Percy grinned. "Everything." Harry could think of one thing that had changed, but nobody was mentioning that. He had no doubt missed the worst of the family's grief.

Harry figured he would ask some questions, get caught up on what was happening while he was alone in Grimmauld Place. "Mr. Weasley--sorry, Arthur," he amended, reacting to Arthur's glance. "Have you gone back to work at the Ministry? Are you going to?"

"Well, as the Prophet said the other day, the place is pretty chaotic," said Arthur. "Of course, someone else has been doing the job I used to do for some time now, so it's not exactly as though I have a desk to go to. Two days ago, Kingsley set up a kind of informal committee. Twelve current or former Ministry employees, of whom I'm one, who Kingsley knows for certain either fought the government actively, or resisted from inside to the best of their ability. Between the twelve of us, we know quite well who did what, or at least, who were enthusiastic supporters of the last government. We started from the top down. Partly because the higher they were, the easier it was to know, and also because it was important to get those people out of there as soon as possible. Politically, it was also preferable to show results quickly."

"So, those were the thirty-two that went to Azkaban," said Harry.

"You read the Prophet, good," replied Arthur. "Yes, that was them--"

"What happened to the ones that were already there?" asked Harry, thinking of Xenophilius Lovegood.

"They were all released. We didn't do careful checks, so it's not impossible that we released a few actual criminals, but we knew that most who were there were political prisoners. A few were Order members, a lot of others were people we knew. We didn't wait for the process to go through bureaucracy, because it could have taken forever. We just got them out of there.

"Anyway," continued Arthur, "Some of the sixty-two had already made themselves scarce, of course, because they knew their number was up. Others, like Umbridge, were so high up that they didn't think they could be touched, and went back to work like nothing happened. I hear she put up quite a struggle, the Aurors who arrested her had to Stun her." Harry exchanged a grin with Ron and Hermione.

"What about Runcorn?" asked Harry.

"He's one of the sixty-two, he got away," said Arthur. "Speaking of which, Ron tells me that I unknowingly had a conversation with you a while back. I wanted to thank you; the warning turned out to be very helpful. At the time, I couldn't imagine why Runcorn was telling me that."

"So, I guess you've been really busy."

Arthur nodded. "I'll be getting back after the funeral. There's still quite a lot to do; getting rid of that bunch was just a necessary first step."

"Come to think of it, I'm surprised they--Kingsley--asked you, since..." Harry trailed off, but knew his meaning was clear to everyone.

"He said if I declined, he'd understand," said Arthur somberly. "But I thought it would be better to keep occupied, and this was very important. You did your job, Harry, you and Ron and Hermione. Now we have to do ours."

"How about you, Percy?" asked Harry, pleased to be able to talk to Percy again, especially now that Percy seemed to have given up his veneer of self-importance and pomposity. "Are you helping out there?"

Percy exchanged a slightly discomfited look with his father. "In the sense of not being regarded as a suspect, yes," he half-joked. "Luckily, I hadn't gone along with the old regime so enthusiastically. If you have a lust for power, you can overlook a lot, but even I couldn't be so blind as to not notice what they were doing to Muggles. I didn't like it at all, of course, but there was nothing I could do. Anyway, I helped Dad and the group a bit, tried to organize my section. A lot of people are pretty nervous right now."

"Because they're worried about being arrested?" asked Hermione.

Percy nodded. "Some people fall on the borderline of what Minister Shacklebolt has described as forgivable behavior from the old regime. So you hear a lot of people going out of their way to talk about how much they didn't like the Thicknesse government, and the things they supposedly did to undermine or resist it. Some of it is probably true, some isn't; some is believable, some isn't. It's all over the map. They're going to have a hard time sorting it all out."

"What do you think about them using Veritaserum?" asked Hermione.

Again, Percy exchanged a look with Arthur. "I suppose I'd take it, though I'd want to know first what questions they were going to ask, that they were going to stay away from anything too personal--"

"I didn't mean, would you be willing to take it," clarified Hermione uncomfortably. "I mean, what--"

"I knew what you meant," Percy assured her. "But it's reasonable to answer in terms of how I would feel about doing it. In general, I think doing it sets a bad precedent, but Minister Shacklebolt has a point; we don't want people like Lucius Malfoy creeping back into the woodwork like before." Harry saw a very dark look cross Ginny's face, and realized that he probably thought a lot less about Tom Riddle's diary than she did.

"I don't especially like it either," agreed Arthur. "Kingsley asked me what I thought about it. I said I wasn't comfortable with it, and if it was used, it should only be on people against whom there are specific, credible accusations. We can't just give it to everybody and see what pops up."

"Has Lucius Malfoy been arrested?" asked Ginny.

"There's a warrant for his arrest, but no," said Arthur. "Of course, Aurors were sent to Malfoy Manor, but he wasn't there. He knows better than to show his face now."

Ginny turned to Harry. "Ron told us about that letter you got."

Harry glanced at Ron, who gave a mildly apologetic shrug; Harry wondered how much else of his visit had been related to the others. "Yeah, that was really something," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I want to warn you, Harry," she said, very seriously, "If you so much as lift a finger to help Lucius Malfoy, I'll never speak to you again." She kept her gaze on him to emphasize her words.

The others all looked at her in surprise; Harry's eyebrows went high. He looked at Ron. "Didn't you tell her--"

"I did!"

"Yes, he told me what you said," said Ginny. "But I wanted to make sure you knew how I felt. I didn't want you changing your mind on some charitable impulse."

"Ginny, that was a very unkind thing to say," admonished Molly, in a disappointed tone.

"It's okay," Harry said, looking at Ginny. "I understand why she said it." He realized that her comment had a deeper meaning: if he showed Lucius mercy, she would be so angry with him that it would jeopardize any future relationship they might have, and she didn't want that to happen. "I promise," he said, meeting her eyes, "that I'll do nothing to help him, nothing to get him any kind of leniency or lighter sentence."

She glanced down, then looked at him, mild resignation on her face. "I'd rather you said that you'll aggressively do everything you can to make sure he never sets foot outside Azkaban for as long as he lives, but that'll do," she conceded.

Not quite ready to make that his life's goal, Harry decided to say nothing further about the topic, busying himself by taking a bite of food. "I'm sure the Aurors will do everything they can to find him," said Arthur reassuringly. "The Aurors, I understand, are working overtime trying to track down those people."

There was silence for a minute while everyone ate; Harry missed Fred's presence, as he and George would no doubt be making jokes if both were there. Harry felt like an outsider, since he'd been the only one not there for the last three days. He wondered if the others had exhausted all new conversation topics. Remembering something he'd heard at Bill's, he asked, "So, you all stayed at Muriel's. How was that?"

There was a conspicuous silence as the Weasleys exchanged looks. Finally, George said flippantly, "It was wonderful, Harry. Muriel was a pure delight, a never-ending source of charm, wit, support--"

"George," Molly interrupted warningly. With a mild shrug, George went back to his food.

"As you can gather from George's comments, it could have been better," admitted Arthur. "Muriel is, well, Muriel. But she opened her home to us during a very difficult time--"

"It was difficult, all right--"

"George!" Molly again scolded him. Ginny suppressed a giggle.

"So, the last thing we would do is say anything negative about her," finished Arthur. "Well, most of us, anyway," he added, with a glance at George.

"Just telling it the way it is," said George. Before anyone could comment further, the front door opened, and in a few seconds, Bill and Fleur walked into the kitchen, Fleur with a baby in her arms. A burst of adrenaline went through Harry as he realized that he hadn't thought about Remus and Tonks' baby, for whom he had been designated the godfather.

"Harry, good, you are here," said Fleur with a smile. "Would you like to see him?"

Harry stood; Fleur kissed him on both cheeks and handed him the baby. Harry thought he was cute, but looked like most babies--until he saw Teddy's face shape change before his eyes. "Cute, isn't it, that he can change so young," said Fleur as Harry's surprise was evident to all. "Not that long ago, it was only his hair."

"He's great, but... I feel like I don't know what Remus and Tonks were thinking," said Harry. "I don't know the first thing about taking care of a baby."

"You learn," said Molly humorously.

"Don't worry, Harry," said Bill. "We know you're not exactly in a position to do that right now, you've been through a lot. You need time to get yourself together. For now, Fleur and I are going to take care of him, with Mum helping us, and Andromeda's already made it clear that she wants substantial time with him. We'll consider him our practice baby," he added, with a grin for Fleur.

"Yeah," agreed George. "Mess up with him, get it right the next time."

"We hope you will visit him, though," put in Fleur. "Here, hold him, let him become familiar with you, so it will not be a shock when he spends more time with you later."

The responsibility was overwhelming, Harry felt, but at least he didn't have to do anything right then. Maybe in one or two years... who knew what he might be doing then... again, he didn't want to think about it. This, too, he could put off for a while, though not indefinitely. He again wondered what possessed Remus and Tonks to make a 17-year-old a godparent of a baby when they would both be going into battle.

"Thank you, both of you," he said to Fleur and Bill, handing Teddy back to a mildly surprised Fleur. "And I will visit him, of course," he added, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He sat back down to resume his meal as Bill and Fleur took their seats.

"So, Bill, how was your first day back at work?" asked Arthur. "Well, half-day, anyway."

Fleur filled up Bill's plate before working on her own. "Mainly just catching up on news, or you could call it gossip. The goblins are happy that You-Know-Who's gone, but--" He stopped talking in response to a sharp look from Harry. "What?" he asked Harry in surprise.

"Harry's the 'You-Know-Who' police," joked Ron. "He wants everyone to say 'Voldemort'--see, I did it--" he added, with a grin at Harry, "or else he gets shirty with them."

Harry sighed, feeling that he had to explain himself. "I didn't mean to offend you," he half-apologized to Bill. "It's just that, I've always hated that phrase, and now that he's gone, it seems especially pointless. It's like people are still afraid of him."

"Well, I'm not," said Bill casually, showing that he hadn't taken offense. "It's just a habit, really. But, if it'll make you happy... the goblins are happy that Voldemort's gone, but now that he is, they're thinking about themselves, what they can get out of it. Rumor is that they're considering holding the Ministry responsible for everything that happened, trying to get compensation for their losses, the goblins who were killed, that sort of thing."

"I suppose they'd rather the Ministry just gave them piles of gold, rather than using it to help the Muggle-born wizards who lost everything because of Voldemort," said an irritated Hermione.

Bill shrugged. "Nobody ever said they were great humanitarians. But what particularly has them talking is your breaking into Gringotts." He made eye contact with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "It's a good thing you didn't tell me what you were going to do, because I'd have told you that you were utterly loony. And I would've been right. You were unbelievably lucky to get out of there in one piece."

"It was Hermione's idea," said Ron.

"Very funny," she responded. "It was my plan, but I didn't see you suggesting anything better. But the Horcrux was there, so we had to go. It was as simple as that. But I guess I should have supposed they'd have some defense against Polyjuice Potion. I just couldn't think of anything better."

"What makes the story truly great," said Bill, "was riding the dragon out of there. Whose idea was that?" Ron pointed at Harry; Bill chuckled. "It was so... audacious, truly inspired. When you hear the story, it sounds like you were planning all along to do that."

"And speaking as a dragon expert," put in Charlie, "not even the most foolhardy daredevil would have tried to ride a dragon, especially bareback, with no equipment like you did."

"Well," responded Ron, "when the alternative is being captured by a bunch of angry goblins, and soon afterwards being handed over to Voldemort... I'd say that 'foolhardy' is preferable to 'hopeless.' I was quite pleased with Harry's idea." He paused deliberately for a second. "Terrified, but pleased. I mean, if you're drowning and you see a rope, you grab it. You don't wonder what it's connected to."

Bill nodded. "I can see that. But the goblins are, shall we say, not amused. In terms of the financial loss, the biggest one is the dragon itself. It's worth a huge amount of money--"

"But it was old, or at least, it looked old," protested Ron. "It couldn't have had much time left."

"But they could have, and would have, had it slaughtered before it died naturally," pointed out Bill. "I don't know how much they'd get for it, what, Charlie, over a half million Galleons?

"Easily," replied Charlie. "Closer to a million."

Bill nodded. "They'd get some profit from that, and use some to buy a new one. But maintaining a dragon is so expensive, their profit wouldn't be all that big. But now, they're just out more than a half million Galleons, just flew away."

Ron pretended to sigh. "I'd feel so guilty, if only I, you know... cared."

"Bet they care," muttered Harry. His comment was immediately followed by an indignant Hermione's "They should be ashamed of themselves, keeping that poor dragon locked up underground. Never to see the sun..."

"That poor dragon," repeated George solemnly. "Not one of those phrases you hear often. Like, 'great goblin philanthropist,' or '...Muriel said shyly.'" Ginny suppressed a giggle, anticipating her mother's reaction, which was an annoyed glance at George.

Bill picked up where he'd left off. "You're right, Harry, they care a lot. Charlie told me that they have search parties out looking for it; they can guess where it might tend to go, and it's hard for a dragon to hide. So, it's still possible that they might get it back. But they're really angry even aside from the expense. It's a black eye for their image. Three teenagers broke into one of the highest-security vaults, took something, and escaped. It makes them look incompetent. So they might not only demand compensation, but also, Harry's arrest."

Ron smirked; Arthur almost choked on his food. "I'm sure Kingsley will get right on that," muttered Arthur.

"Bill, what's known about the reason we did it?" asked Hermione.

"It's known that you took an object, not of great value, from the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange, and that you took no money. Because Voldemort was defeated soon thereafter, most people assume that you got something you needed to defeat him. Don't worry, nobody thinks you were out for profit. But the goblins won't care about that. And they know there's no chance of the Ministry arresting you; this would be a negotiating ploy. On a strictly technical level, what you did is illegal, and punishable under wizarding law. So, this is going to be one more headache for Kingsley, one that he can't put off for long. Goblins are tough negotiators, and they have some economic power."

"I should ask them if they'd rather have Voldemort back," said Harry.

"They won't look at it that way, though they should," agreed Bill. "Who knows, maybe they'll get the dragon back, cool down, and things'll get back to normal."

"Do you think that'll happen?" asked Hermione hopefully.

"Ummm... no," responded Bill. "I was just trying to be optimistic. It could happen. But I wouldn't bet on it." Neither would I, thought Harry. If something can go wrong, especially when it's connected to me, it tends to do so.

Lunch finished; most everyone went to the living room, but Harry went upstairs to use the bathroom. Coming out, he saw Hermione in front of Ron's bedroom; she motioned him to join her. She closed the door behind her, surprising Harry. What could be so important?

She looked at him with sympathy. "How are you doing, Harry?"

He was bewildered. Was this the big thing? "Fine, why?

She rolled her eyes. "Harry, this is me. We were constant companions for most of the past year. Do you think I can't read your face any better than that?"

"Well, then, why ask the question?" he asked impatiently.

"On the off chance that you might be honest in your answer, though I should know better than to expect that. You always keep your feelings in, you always shut people out, even me and Ron. I deserve better than that. Now, what's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, trying not to show his annoyance. I may as well answer her, he thought, she'll just keep after me if I don't. "Anything I tell you is just between you, me, and Ron, okay?"

"Of course," she said, with a wounded tone.

"He's probably already filled you in on yesterday. But the answer to your question is, I don't know."

"Harry, come on, I said I wouldn't--"

"And I said, I don't know what the hell is wrong with me! That's the truth!" He realized he'd raised his voice quite a bit, and tried to calm down. "It's like, I'm not comfortable in my own skin, is the closest I can come. I don't even understand it, so how can I explain it?"

Her expression was now one of deep concern. Having started, he didn't stop. "I'm a bloody hero, everyone loves me. Well, except the goblins. Everyone who meets me is going to tell me how great I am. I should be used to that, it's happened often enough. But I don't like it any more now than I did then. I feel like I just want to shut myself off in Grimmauld Place."

"But, Harry, you deserve that kind of praise. What you did..."

"Somehow that doesn't help. Besides, you deserve it more than me, you saved my ass half a dozen times. But people don't know that, and I'm sorry, but the last thing I want to do is tell everyone this story, have everyone know everything about my life because they feel entitled somehow--"

Now she raised her voice, partly to interrupt him. "I don't want you to! I don't care who knows what I did. I don't need to be a hero either, you know. I just want what's best for you."

He calmed down, and acknowledged her words with his eyes. "Well, whatever the reason... and like I said, I don't even know what it is... but going out in public and getting praised, being with Ginny, taking responsibility for a baby, doing whatever Kingsley would have me do... I just feel like I can't face any of it. Even the things that are good... I feel like it's all too much."

She quickly moved forward to hug him; he held her, feeling her comfort, knowing how much she wanted to help him. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"It's like, you and Ron are the only ones I can talk to, or be comfortable with. I don't know why that is, either."

"Maybe you feel like we're the only ones who really know how you feel," she suggested, letting go of him and stepping back.

He grunted. "I don't see how, since I don't really know how I feel. But I see what you mean. Who knows, you could be right. I'm just bad at this sort of thing. All I can do is wait, I guess, maybe it'll change."

"I think it will," she said, obviously trying to be optimistic. "It's probably just because this all happened so recently, and your life has changed so suddenly. It's a lot to take in. Give it some time, you'll feel better."

He nodded. "I hope so." He privately doubted it, though; for some reason, it didn't seem like the kind of thing that only time would fix. "By the way, I wanted to ask you, what have you been doing for the past few days?"

"Mainly being with Ron, trying to help him deal with what happened to Fred. Also, wondering what to do about my parents."

Harry tried not to show the responsibility he felt about that, as he was sure he'd get the same response that Ron had given him. "What do you mean, what to do? I always assumed you'd lift the Memory Charm and bring them back."

"I did too, but thinking about it, it's not as simple as that," she responded, with obvious anxiety. "How are they going to feel about what I did?"

"I hope they'd think it was better than being dead."

"But they might not understand that so well. They might think I was overreacting, or that I should have let them make the decision."

"They never would have gone," Harry said. "They'd have been like, it's probably not that bad, not bad enough to uproot our lives. I know, I had to persuade the Dursleys, and they almost didn't go even though there was obvious and dire danger."

She nodded. "That's exactly why I did it the way I did. But they still might be pretty angry."

"Can't you just do it so that they thought they went to Australia because it was their dream, but it wasn't working out, so they came back here?"

"I was hoping to, but... there's only so much of that you can do before problems start developing. Confused feelings, inconsistent memories; it could even do psychological damage. I did it before because I was desperate to keep them safe, but if I do that again, it would be for the sole purpose of them not being angry with me. I don't think I can subject them to that kind of risk for that reason. I'll have to go to the library to research it."

"That reminds me, are you going back to Hogwarts?"

"I haven't decided that either, I'll have to talk to Professor McGonagall. If I did it, it would have to be that I'd go full-time next year, same as it would be with Ron if he did it." Harry couldn't help but think that Ron was a lot less likely to do this than Hermione. "I don't suppose you're going to."

Harry thought for a few seconds. "One of the problems of my little condition seems to be that I can't think much about the future, either. So, I have no idea. But it would really surprise me if I ended up doing that." After a few seconds of silence, Hermione suggested that they go back downstairs, and they did.

An hour later, they headed for the cemetery. It was a one-mile walk from the Weasley home; they could easily have Apparated, but they decided to walk as a group. As they walked, Hermione explained to Harry and Ron that it wasn't considered appropriate to Apparate directly to a graveyard; one was supposed to Apparate to at least a hundred yards away, then walk the rest of the distance.

The Weasleys lived in a more rural area, so as they walked they passed plenty of trees, shrubs, and other flora. Ron occasionally pointed to a tree he'd played in as a small child, or one he'd flown a broom to near the top of in order to retrieve a flying toy, only to be punished by his parents for flying higher than he'd been allowed to. Listening to the stories, Harry wondered how his life would have been different if he'd been raised in the wizarding world. Arthur overheard, and walked near them to tell Harry and Hermione about his love of the countryside, and the long walks he and Molly used to take. They still did occasionally, he said, but of course not recently, as life had become more and more dangerous after Voldemort's return.

Harry noticed that Ginny was walking with her mother, staying away from him, Ron, and Hermione. He felt badly, as he was sure that she would have joined them under other circumstances. He wondered how angry she was with him, or if she thought his words meant that he didn't want to be near her at all. He would have been perfectly happy to talk to her with the understanding that any romantic relationship was on hold, but she didn't seem to want to do that. He wished he could be what she wanted him to be, but he knew he couldn't. It frustrated him, but more when he thought about Ginny than anyone else.

As they approached the cemetery, Harry realized that they were the first to arrive; the ceremony wasn't supposed to start for another half hour. He assumed it was also a custom, so the bereaved family could greet others individually if they chose to, rather than all at once. Ron wandered around the graveyard, looking at tombstones; Harry wondered whether he was looking for distant relatives, or perhaps grandparents. Harry felt no inclination to look around.

After a few minutes, he started seeing people in the distance, walking in the direction of the graveyard. It turned out that they were Weasley relatives, and all greeted Molly and Arthur, then started talking to Ginny and Charlie. Harry made no move to approach them or introduce himself, staying close to Ron and Hermione.

Another person came close enough to be recognized, and Harry saw Luna Lovegood, dressed in black robes, and surprisingly, no hat of any sort. He should have known that she wouldn't wear strange headwear to a funeral, but it still seemed surprising. He remembered the wave of affection he'd felt for her when at her home, and the fact that she'd helped save his life during the Hogwarts battle. He started walking toward her, Ron and Hermione following a few steps behind.

As he approached her, he saw that she looked somber and unhappy, which was quite unusual for her. She stopped a few steps short of him, but he continued, reaching out to hug her. After holding her for a few seconds, he was startled to find her sobbing into his shoulder. I didn't think she knew Fred that well, he thought. He patted her shoulder as she continued crying.

Withdrawing from his embrace, she took his right hand in both of hers and gripped it tightly, the occasional tear still falling from her clear blue eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said, in a tone both earnest and ashamed.

He suddenly realized that this had nothing to do with Fred. "For what?"

"For... for what my father did."

Ah, thought Harry, now I understand. "He did it, Luna, not you." He noticed that behind him, Ron and Hermione had taken a few steps back and were talking to each other, appearing not to notice Harry and Luna.

She didn't look reassured. "It's so kind of you to say that," she said miserably. "But he did it for me. I never would have wanted him to. I wish he would have helped you."

He nodded. "I know."

"He just got back from Azkaban the other morning, after they let everyone out. I was so happy to see him, I was really worried about him."

She was going to continue, but he cut in with a question. "Were the dementors guarding it?"

Sniffling, she nodded. "He was in such a terrible state, I've never seen him so badly off. He was really happy to see me, but he told me what he had done... I couldn't believe it. He suffered so much in Azkaban, Harry... can you imagine it, the dementors are doing that to you all the time, and he had to live with the knowledge of what he had done. He said it kept going through his mind, over and over. He's still in a very bad way. He wanted me to forgive him, he begged me to." She looked as though she might start crying again. "He was so sad, I really wanted to, but I couldn't. I told him I loved him, that I was happy to see him, I was glad he was safe. But I couldn't say what he wanted me to say, and I felt terrible about that too."

Harry said what he thought. "A lot of people would just say they did, even if they really didn't."

She shook her head. "He always told me, even from a very young age, never to lie, even to make someone feel better. He said, if you lie, it means you don't respect them. Lying to him would be even worse than not forgiving him."

He suddenly felt he understood Luna a lot better, including her tendency to speak uncomfortable truths. "I'm curious, Luna... imagine you were in his position. He's in jail, we came to see you, to get your help. You think you can get him out of jail, out of danger, by calling the Death Eaters. Would you?"

"I've thought about that, of course," she said. "I don't think you can really know unless you're in the situation. But honestly, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't. Of course, I'd be distraught, but I just don't think I could bring myself to do that, especially since in his situation, my life wasn't in immediate danger. He could have helped you and sent you on your way without putting me in any more jeopardy than I was in. Especially since it was you, the one who had the only real chance of beating Voldemort; handing you over was like sealing everyone's fate. But I know you wouldn't have done it, Harry. You handed yourself over to Voldemort to try to save the rest of us."

"I'm pretty sure that handing yourself over, and handing over someone you care about, are two different things," he pointed out. "I like to think I wouldn't have done what he did, but like you, I can't be absolutely sure. But I am very sorry that your father suffered so much."

"So am I."

Harry put an arm around her shoulder and steered her towards Ron and Hermione. When they reached them, Luna said, "Thank you for pretending not to listen to Harry and me. It was very kind of you."

Hermione blushed, but Ron smiled. "It's no problem." To Harry's surprise, Ron took a step forward to hug Luna as well. "And thank you for saving our lives, back at the castle."

"Yes, thank you," said Hermione sincerely, looking surprised but pleased with Ron for his gesture.

"I managed to forget about that already," said Harry, as Ron let go of Luna.

"I was glad to do it," said Luna. "I'm happy to have you as my friends."

"Even if we don't believe in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" joked Harry.

"Oh, you'll see one, one day," Luna said serenely. At this point, it wouldn't surprise me, thought Harry.

They slowly walked back to the main group. A few more people got closer; mostly middle-aged, Harry guessed they were friends of Arthur's from the Ministry. He also saw three young men approaching. George broke off from the main group to greet them; he knew they were Fred and George's dormitory-mates from Hogwarts. One of them was Lee Jordan, of course, and Harry recognized the other two, but didn't know their names.

To Harry's great surprise, in the far distance he saw the Knight Bus suddenly appear. Its doors opened, and about twenty people got out. In a few minutes they were close enough to be recognized; McGonagall was at the head, followed by a group of students. He realized at once that they must all be members of Dumbledore's Army.

When they reached Harry's group, there were many greetings exchanged. Harry greeted the seventh-year Gryffindors warmly, and saw Ron and Lavender exchange awkward hellos as they met. He patted on the back an obviously still bereaved Dennis Creevey, who he had tried to console at Hogwarts after Voldemort's defeat, though not very successfully. He felt he should do what he could to help Dennis, to whom he felt responsible, as his brother was one of the two members of Dumbledore's Army who had died.

"Did you get my owl?" asked Dennis.

Knowing it was certainly in the pile of letters he hadn't bothered to look at, Harry was immediately ashamed. He nodded, immediately having the thought that he was nowhere near as honest as Luna.

"I felt bad about it," continued Dennis, by far the youngest person there, conspicuous by his small size. I told my parents that you, and all the other D.A. members would have wanted to be there, but they insisted that it should be family only."

Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief as he realized that Dennis was talking about Colin's funeral, and that he hadn't missed it by neglecting his mail. "I understood, Dennis," he said. "We all honor Colin in our hearts."

Dennis nodded. "I know. It's still really hard. But at least I know he was doing what he wanted to do, what I would have wanted to be doing. So, when are you coming back to Hogwarts?"

Dennis's question was heard by some of the D.A., whose ears perked up. Well, I can't lie about this, Harry thought. "I don't know, Dennis. I might not come back at all."

Neville stepped forward. "What? You've got to come back, Harry. You and Ron and Hermione. It wasn't the same without you."

"But we haven't been there for the whole year, Neville," Harry pointed out. "There's no way we're going to get N.E.W.T.s, it would be kind of pointless."

"That wouldn't be the point! We should finish Hogwarts together, like we started together." Neville looked adamant, and Harry could see agreement on the others' faces.

"I'm sorry, Neville," he said. "Part of me feels that way too, but... it's been a long year. Not that it hasn't been for you, too, but... I just feel like I need time to do whatever I want, or nothing at all. I can't explain it very well, I just feel it." He felt acutely uncomfortable telling them this, but he had led them, they had fought with and for him, and they deserved as much honesty as he could manage.

Nobody looked happy with this, but Harry gathered from their faces that they didn't want to argue with him. "Well, just to be on the safe side, we won't put any new people in your dormitory bed."

Not that they could anyway, thought Harry, but he understood Neville's intent. "I appreciate that, Neville. So, classes are continuing? With all the damage the castle took?"

"Repairs will begin next week," said McGonagall, suddenly appearing behind Harry. "In the meantime, with a little resourcefulness and a little magical patchwork, I believe we will get by. Mr. Potter, may I have a word with you?"

Here we go, thought Harry. The main thing he had dreaded about the funeral was that he would be around a lot of people who would talk to him, ask him to do things he might not want to do, put various kinds of pressure on him. He was accustomed to resisting such pressure, but that didn't make it feel any better; he had already been made to feel bad about not returning to Hogwarts. He assumed McGonagall would say something similar, but he liked her, and in any case couldn't refuse to speak to her. Trying to keep resignation off his face, he nodded, and followed her to a spot out of everyone's hearing.

"So, you are not coming back to Hogwarts."

He shrugged. "You heard me say that there wouldn't be any point."

"And you heard what Mr. Longbottom said. It would do much for their spirits to have you back."

"Voldemort's dead," said Harry emotionlessly. "I think their spirits will be okay without me."

She looked at him disapprovingly, but appeared to have decided to abandon that line of discussion. "I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Potter, for two reasons. One is to suggest--" here it comes, thought Harry--"that you attend the summer intensive session for Defense Against the Dark Arts." His expression didn't change. "This would not be for the purpose of getting the N.E.W.T. per se, which I suspect you could manage right now. It would be for the purpose of completing your education in this subject, which would be a prerequisite for taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor in September when the next term begins."

This got a reaction out of him. "Why?" he asked incredulously.

"Perhaps you could be more specific about the nature of your disbelief," she said dryly.

"You want me there as a symbol?" guessed Harry. "Look, he defeated Voldemort, he can teach you to be great? Most of how I beat him was stuff I had no control over, and didn't have much to do with standard Defense Against the Dark Arts anyway. I don't see why I'd be better than anyone else who knew the subject fairly well."

She seemed to be trying to summon all of her tolerance. "I am sure that Miss Granger could explain it to you, if she were listening. First of all, you have teaching experience--Dumbledore's Army. They performed quite well in the battle; two deaths out of more than twenty is a very low casualty rate, especially compared to the rest of the combatants." She softened her tone a little. "You may not realize it, Harry, but you not only taught them, you inspired them. They wanted to do the sort of things that you had done."

"Which is the reason we're here today," said Harry bitterly, hating to be reminded.

"It was his choice to fight, as it was for all of us. You cannot blame yourself for that. I believe that we might have lost the battle for the castle if not for your teaching, never mind your individual actions. Also, I am thinking of the future. Imagine, if you will, that the next Dark threat comes along in twenty or thirty years. Who do you think will better inspire students, both former and current, to take up arms to fight the threat: Professor Harry Potter, or Professor Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Harry couldn't quite stifle a chuckle; she smiled. "Kind of hard to argue with that," he conceded.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I can see your reluctance, and I understand, at least somewhat. This is all very soon; I am not asking you to decide right away. May I ask, is this simply not something you think you would like to do, or is there some other reason for your reaction?"

"I think it would come under the heading of 'some other reason,'" he said. "I would never have thought of it, but as I've told a few people already, I'm having a hard time thinking about the future right now."

"Very well. The second thing I mentioned is that I am... deeply concerned about the fact that..." She lowered her voice, "you used the Cruciatus Curse when you did. I do not pretend to know what you have been through in the past year, and do not want to judge you. I have told no one else, and will not. But I personally cannot think of any situation justifying its use. If there is one, what happened that night was quite far from it. If your intent was to be chivalrous, it was appreciated, but a Stunning spell would have been more than sufficient."

Harry was silent for a few seconds, then spoke. "I know. I think I was just really mad... not only for you, but Neville had been telling me how much torture they'd been doing... it was disgusting what they'd turned Hogwarts into."

She nodded. "I understand that, and I also understand the difference between premeditated intent and a sudden impulse. I assume that you understand, however, the irony of the notion of using torture because you are upset about torture."

"No, you're right, I don't want to become like them. I'm pretty sure I won't ever be doing that again."

She seemed satisfied with his answer. "I do want to add, however, that my offer of the teaching job is not solely for the reason I mentioned, about inspiration. You taught the D.A. well, and I have no doubt that you would do the same for all of the school's students."

He was touched by the compliment, though no more eager to accept her offer. "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate that." He thought about apologizing for his 'symbol' question, in which he had taken a less-than-respectful tone with her, but before he could decide, she had nodded and moved on. As he approached his D.A. friends, he thought, no way am I telling them what she offered me, they'd all badger me to take it. That's the last thing I need, more badgering. When they asked about McGonagall, he said only that she'd asked him about the summer sessions.

Soon a knot of older former students arrived: Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood, and Cho Chang. They joined the D.A. group, talking to everyone; George joined them, getting hugs from his female former Quidditch teammates. Cho walked up to Harry and gave him a hug that Harry felt was a little too enthusiastic, given how little contact they'd had over the past two years. He dearly hoped that Ginny hadn't happened to look in that direction at that time, but he couldn't do much about it. He talked to her politely for a minute, after which Hermione interrupted them with a hearty greeting for Cho that didn't seem too genuine, asking Cho what she was up to. Mentally thanking Hermione, he took the opportunity to break off and talk to Katie, Alicia, and Angelina.

Molly approached them to tell them that it was almost time for the ceremony to begin. As they walked to the gravesite, Molly steered Harry over to an old woman who Harry didn't recognize at first, but soon remembered from the wedding. "Muriel, this is Harry Potter," said Molly proudly.

"Yes, I can see that, I'm not blind yet," snorted Muriel. She eyed Harry up and down; he felt like a piece of meat being inspected. "So, you're the big hero that everyone's talking about. Funny, you don't look like a hero."

Harry nodded. "I don't feel like one, either. Kind of gormless, actually."

She looked startled for a second, then let out a loud cackle that got quite a few people looking in their direction. "You were at the wedding, weren't you!" He grinned. "That--" She interrupted herself by coughing loudly; when she was finished, she could only manage a throaty whisper. "That Ginny really has a thing for you," she continued. "Are you going to marry her?"

Molly had a look of profound embarrassment. Harry wondered if Ginny had really made some comment while staying at Muriel's, or if Muriel had heard rumors, or just guessed. He wasn't sure what to say. "I have no idea."

"Oh, come on, humor a dying old woman," she urged him, her voice gaining a little strength again.

Harry's eyebrows went high. "You're dying?"

"No, she isn't," said a frowning Molly. "Don't say things like that, Muriel, it's bad luck."

"Well, I haven't got long left," she wheezed. "No point in pretending otherwise. So, what's it going to be?" She weakly poked Harry in the chest.

Harry found that he liked something about her; even if she could be rude, she said what she thought, straight out. He'd been angry when she was saying things about Dumbledore last year, but it had turned out that she was right. He leaned over and whispered into her shriveled, spotted ear. "Two years from today, exactly. Hang in there."

Again, she cackled loudly. "Not so gormless after all!" she said approvingly, and laughed again. With a quizzical look at Harry, Molly guided Muriel toward the gravesite; Harry lent a hand with her left arm. As they walked, Harry noticed the presence of more people he hadn't noticed earlier, such as Kingsley and a few other Order members. Harry was impressed that Kingsley had made a point to come, given how busy he must have been.

The casket was ten feet behind the tombstone; what Harry guessed was almost a hundred people were gathered around the other three sides of the grave. Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, and Ron raised their wands, and Fred's casket floated through the air and landed neatly in the bottom of the grave, with a small thud. Molly burst into sobs; Ginny put her arm around her and held her mother to her chest. Again the six men waved their wands, and the pile of dirt behind the tombstone started falling on top of the casket, and continued until the new dirt was level with the old.

George walked to face everyone, standing in front of the tombstone. "As the inheritor, I gather I'm supposed to say a few words first." He cleared his throat, then continued. "Fred knows how I feel about him, so there's no need to get into all that sort of thing. Besides, I need to leave it ambiguous, so if he comes back as a ghost I can deny it, and say that I was just going to say what a prat he was, and didn't only because I didn't want to be rude. One must cover all of one's bases, you know." No one laughed, but a glance told Harry that some people were smiling. No one should have thought that Fred Weasley's funeral would be completely without humor, he mused.

"Now, everyone who wants to say a few words about Fred should come up here and do so," George went on. "I only ask them to keep this in mind: it was often said that he and I were very similar. Like twins, you might say. So, remember that when you praise Fred, when you say kind and generous things about him, you're doing so for me as well. Thank you."

Harry smiled, and again, he wasn't the only one. After a brief pause, Ron walked up to where George had stood. "I have a few things to say about Fred, and only Fred," he added emphatically in George's direction.

"Party pooper," George muttered.

"As I imagine a lot of older brothers do, Fred gave me quite a hard time when we were kids. He once gave me a drink that, I didn't know, would make my pee turn black." Harry stifled a giggle. "I learned from him, the hard way, about the spell that makes you burp up slugs, and the less said about the spider, the better. But he taught me a thing or two as well, and more importantly, he was there for me when I needed him. And I'm proud that he, that my whole family, fought against Voldemort. But when you do that, you take a risk, and here we are. But I'm sure he wouldn't have had it any other way."

"Except for the dying part," clarified George.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yes, except for that. I meant--well, never mind, you know what I meant." He paused for another moment, as if considering whether he had anything else to say, then walked back to his position near the Weasleys.

Harry wanted to say something, so he decided to go next, walking up to where Ron had stood. "Fred and George--and yes, everything I say is about the both of you--never gave me the hard time they gave Ron, because I wasn't their brother, though I'm sure my cousin Dudley will never forget that Ton-Tongue Toffee they gave him." He saw a few people chuckle, including George. "My memories of them are mainly of when they helped me out. I remember in second year, when everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin, they made fun of the idea, which made me feel better. When we played Slytherin, when Slytherin players went after me, trying to injure me, they made sure the offender paid for it, with a well-placed Bludger."

George interrupted. "It was our pleasure."

Harry smiled sadly. "I know. And before second year, they and Ron took the flying car to break me out of the Dursleys, which had become like a prison, and I got to spend a month with them that I wouldn't have otherwise. That meant a lot to me. And, of course, there were the fireworks and swamp at Hogwarts two years ago. So, they broke rules and caused havoc a lot of the time, but it was usually in the service of a kind or good goal, or just for the sake of humor, which is a good thing in itself. So, Fred, goodbye. I'll miss you. And George, I'm sure Fred would say, keep up the spirit." Harry felt emotion rise up, and fought to shut it down. He walked back to his spot, with a hug for George on the way.

Ginny was next, followed by Charlie, then Lee Jordan. Harry listened to their testimonials and memories somberly, with the occasional smile when one of Fred and George's more amusing exploits were recounted. More than twenty people ended up speaking, but Arthur and Molly did not.

After it was over, there was no sudden rush to leave; people milled about, talking quietly. The only person who seemed about to leave quickly was Muriel, whom Harry overheard saying something that sounded like, "I'll do it by myself, I said! It might take an hour, but I'll do it myself." He gathered that one also didn't Disapparate from a graveyard, and she preferred to walk the hundred meters by herself, leaving earlier than others so she wouldn't be the last one to leave the area.

Harry was standing with Ron and Hermione, when behind him, he heard Kingsley talking to Arthur and Molly. At first he couldn't help but overhear, but soon he was actively listening.

"...and I know this isn't a good time to ask, Arthur, but I thought I should do it while I'm here, and you have the family with you if you'd like to talk about it."

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur.

"I'd like you to head up the Wizarding Unity Department," said Kingsley.

There was a brief silence. Arthur asked, "Why me? I mean, I'm really not the type to be a department head." Ron started to say something, but Harry silently shushed him.

"That's because," said Kingsley wryly, "usually you have to kiss a lot of rings and do high-level people a lot of favors before you can get a position that has Undersecretary rank, as this one does. I'm trying the novel concept of filling the jobs with the best people, as opposed to those who have accumulated the most political chits. I may only be the temporary Minister, but I'm going to govern as if I were permanent. You fought against Voldemort, your record is above reproach, and your sympathy for Muggles and Muggle-borns is well-known; they'll trust you to look out for their interests. There's no one better for the job."

"Well... thank you, Kingsley," said an obviously affected Arthur.

"But since you're temporary," asked Molly, "couldn't Arthur just be removed by the next Minister?"

Arthur answered before Kingsley could. "No. Undersecretaries and department heads can't be unilaterally removed by Ministers; it's one of the few things a Minister can't do by himself. There would just be chaos otherwise."

"They could cut his budget, make his life difficult, but that would be about it," added Kingsley. "And as for being temporary, the Council has told me that I may yet be made permanent. They only made me temporary because I'm an unknown quantity politically; I could be a political idiot, for all they know. I probably have about six months, and if I'm doing all right then, they'll make it permanent. But in any case, I'm going to do what I think is right, not what I think they think I should do. So, Arthur, would you like time to think about it?"

Arthur sighed lightly. "It's a big responsibility, probably a lot of late nights."

"I know. I know this isn't anything you've aspired to, and that you've always been happy in your quiet, overlooked niche. And Merlin knows you've already done quite a lot for the country. But I don't want someone who doesn't give a damn about Muggle-borns, or someone who's looking to advance, in this job. We need you."

There was a silence; Harry imagined that Arthur and Molly were looking at each other, to see what the other thought. "Well, there's nothing for it, then, is there," said Arthur, with both pride and resignation. "Of course, I'll do it, Kingsley."

"Thank you, Arthur. And you too, Molly, since this won't be easy for you either. Arthur will be written about in the Prophet, and probably criticized from time to time, no doubt by 'anonymous Ministry sources.'"

"If anyone tries to hurt Arthur, I'll remind them of what I did to Bellatrix Lestrange," joked Molly.

Arthur and Kingsley chuckled. "You may need to," said Kingsley. "Well, then, I'll see you later at the Ministry. We'll still be doing group work, but we'll talk about the structure of the department, priorities, and staffing. It may take a few days, but we want to get it up and running as soon as possible. Those people need help."

"They'll get it," said Arthur. Harry heard no more speaking; he turned a little, and saw that Kingsley had walked off. He guided Ron and Hermione a few steps away.

"Wow, Dad'll be an Undersecretary!" marveled Ron. "That's a really high position. A lot higher salary, too."

"I think it's safe to say that that wasn't the reason he took the job," pointed out Hermione with a slightly chiding tone. "It's obviously going to be a tough job, but knowing your father, he couldn't say no to the opportunity to help people, especially those who need it so much."

"I knew that," said Ron defensively. "I was just saying, there are good points about it too. My family's never had much money, you may remember."

Hermione looked annoyed, but didn't respond. After a short silence, she changed the topic. "I thought both of your speeches were good."

"Thanks," said Ron. "It was tough to know what to say. It just... it feels wrong, you know? Like he should still be here, making his usual jokes."

"I feel bad," said Hermione, "because I was always criticizing them, giving them a hard time."

"They didn't hold that against you, you know," said Ron, putting an arm around her shoulder. "They knew you liked them." She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked on, in silence.

A minute later Kingsley caught up to them and asked them to stop for a minute. "I just wanted to make sure you three will be there for the award ceremony the day after tomorrow. It'll be in Diagon Alley at 1 p.m." Harry nodded his assent.

"Why us?" asked Hermione. "Are we going to present it to him? Or did you just think we'd like to be there?"

"I'd think you'd want to be there, as you and Ron are also getting awards," said Kingsley. "All three of you are getting the Order of Merlin, First Class."

Harry was surprised at the astonishment on Ron and Hermione's faces. "Us too?" asked Ron in disbelief.

"I should hope so," said Harry emphatically. "It would be a huge understatement to say that I couldn't have done it without you, both of you. If I deserve it, then you do too."

"But Harry did much more than we did, he's the one who beat Voldemort," pointed out Hermione. "Shouldn't he get a better one than us, like he gets First class, we get Second?" Ron shot her an accusatory glance, clearly hoping she would backtrack from that idea.

"You both deserve First class," said Kingsley, to Ron's relief. "I agree that Harry deserves even higher, but there really isn't any higher award. Well, there is, there's Honored Citizen status, but it's usually near the end of a person's career. I suspect Harry thinks that this'll do for now."

"Yeah, I'd say so," said Harry sarcastically. "But I'm glad for you guys, you really do deserve it. And thank you, Kingsley. A lot of Ministers wouldn't have thought of something like that. They'd have only thought of it, like Scrimegour, as an excuse to stand next to me in public."

"Well, I will be doing that," Kingsley responded with a wry smile. "The difference is, I hope, that I'm worthy to do so."

Harry sighed. "Obviously--"

"I know, I'm just tweaking you. Anyway, you three, come to my office a half hour early. I or someone else will talk to you, fill you in on how it goes. Until then..." He nodded at them and walked off.

"Order of Merlin, First Class!" Ron marveled to Harry and Hermione after Kingsley was out of hearing range. "I can't believe it!"

"Thank you, Harry," said Hermione. To his surprised expression, she added, "for saying we deserved it."

He shrugged. "Well, you do. But at the same time, I feel like everyone who fought at Hogwarts should get one. They made it possible."

"There's only so many awards they can give out," Hermione pointed out. "Ron and I were lucky to get them, obviously we weren't expecting it. Probably it's because we were so close to you, and they knew that."

"Well, I'm just glad that you guys will be up there with me," said Harry. "It feels right, after all we've been through together. Also, I won't feel so alone up there."

Ron clasped Harry's shoulder as they walked. "Glad we could help," he said humorously.

Harry suddenly felt a cool breeze, which he dismissed as an anomaly until it got a little stronger. "Hey, doesn't it seem a little--"

He cut himself off as he realized what it was, faster than others, no doubt due to his long experience with them. He whipped out his wand, instantly on high alert. He wanted to make sure he wasn't imagining it, and within two seconds, his fears were confirmed; he felt that awful, familiar feeling of oppressive doom. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, thinking about his victory over Voldemort.

To his surprise, nothing happened. As Ron and Hermione got their wands out and did the spell, he tried again, thinking about kissing Ginny, and failed again. Frustration and adrenaline flowed through him; this should be easy. Ron and Hermione were holding the dementors off, but Harry didn't give up. He tried to calm himself and focus hard on a memory that had always worked for him: winning the Quidditch Cup in third year. The pearly white stag burst out of his wand and started chasing dementors.

A quick glance told Harry that there were mourners scattered all over; he hoped they would be in groups enough that no one would be vulnerable. There were dementors everywhere; it was the most Harry had seen at one time since third year, and perhaps ever. Out of immediate danger as the dementors near the three of them retreated, Harry looked around. "Over there! Come on!"

He ran for a pair of trees, one with a very thick trunk. At least three dementors were around the bigger tree; he couldn't see a person, but he knew there must be one. About five yards away, some of the D.A. members were fighting off dementors. "Dennis!" shouted Parvati, as she fought off dementors with a tiger Patronus.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all shot their Patronuses at the tree, and four dementors quickly scattered. Behind the tree he saw Dennis Creevey, flat on his back, motionless. "Oh, God," moaned Harry, as he and Hermione kneeled over Dennis. "Harry, we've got to move him," said Hermione urgently. "There are too many of them, everyone's under attack."

Praying that Dennis was merely unconscious, Harry pulled him to a sitting position, then pulled him up by his arms. "I'll take him," said Ron, and Harry helped Ron heave Dennis over his shoulder. "You'll have to cover me--"

"No problem," said Harry.

"Over there!" shouted Hermione. "Kingsley's saying something!"

They ran again, slower now to let Ron keep pace, and soon they were with most of the D.A. "Kingsley wants us over there!" Seamus said loudly. Seamus, Dean, and Lavender stayed with Harry, Ron, and Hermione; the other D.A. members were further out in front. They ran a few steps, and suddenly the air felt cold again, and Harry felt despair crushing him. He cast the spell, again thinking of Quidditch, and with the help of the others, ten dementors fell back.

The group ran again, keeping a close watch for more attacks, and soon they had reached a large group. "Everyone move together, nobody gets left behind," shouted Kingsley. "We move as a group." Kingsley led the way, walking in the direction of the Burrow, briskly but not too fast.

They made slow progress, partly due to the fact that those at the rear had to look behind them frequently to make sure they weren't snuck up on. After a few minutes, Charlie, Percy, and three Weasley cousins that Harry hadn't met rejoined the group. "We got them," Percy said to Arthur, who nodded. Harry surmised that the three had been cut off from the main group, and Percy and Charlie had gone to retrieve them.

Another minute later, Bill and Fleur fell in with the group. Much in the same way that Ron was carrying Dennis, Bill was carrying Muriel. Harry's heart sank as he remembered that Muriel had headed off early, and so had probably been alone when the dementors attacked.

"Is she okay?" Molly asked Bill.

Bill shook his head. "I think she's dead. She's not breathing."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look of shock. Harry couldn't understand why she would be dead; dementors sucked the soul out, but didn't kill the victim. Maybe she was attacked and had a heart attack before she could be Kissed, thought Harry. If she's dead, I hope that's how it happened.

As they moved on, the only words spoken were the occasional shouts of warning, followed by many echoes of the spell's incantation. Finally the Burrow was in view, and the dementors suddenly attacked again, en masse. Harry again contributed his Patronus to the large pack of them--he guessed that at least half of those present could do one, maybe more--and the dementors were no match for them, though a half dozen of their party were knocked down by the forceful attack. Helped back up by their comrades, they continued on.

The party had to repel two more such attacks before they reached the Burrow. Harry wondered what they were going to do; the Burrow couldn't hold a hundred people.

When they reached the front yard, Kingsley spoke loudly. "I'd like five Weasleys to go into the house first, stand near the fireplace. Then, those who can't do a Patronus, you go into the house, use the fireplace, and go to the Atrium at the Ministry. It'll be safe there; stay there until you get more information. I don't know, but attacks could be happening elsewhere, and you have to be sure that wherever you go is safe." Arthur, Molly, Bill, Percy, and Ginny went inside, and people started filing in after them.

"After that, Professor McGonagall, you take the fireplace to Hogsmeade, and we'll send the students after you. Then, there should be enough room in the house for everyone."

Cho approached Ron. "Ron, give him to me. I'll take him to St. Mungo's, they'll find out what's happened to him."

In his surprise, Ron hesitated. "Why you?"

Annoyed, she reached for Dennis, giving Ron a 'don't waste my time' look. "As I was telling Hermione, I'm taking the training course to be an assistant Healer. They know me." Ron nodded, and helped move Dennis as she carried him over her shoulder. She turned and immediately joined the people heading into the front door of the Burrow.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. "Are people going to be safe in their houses?"

"Yes," said Hermione, looking at Cho carry Dennis away, the worry clear on her face. "Dementors can't go through solid objects, so if your door is closed, you're okay. Most windows wouldn't be big enough, though of course it's better to keep them closed, to be on the safe side. But just to be extra safe, people should cast a Patronus in their homes and let it run around. I don't think they could get into Grimmauld Place, but you should do it when you get back."

"Why did they attack, anyway?" asked Ron.

"Maybe after Voldemort died, they were at loose ends, and just figured they'd attack anything they wanted," suggested Harry.

"But they didn't do these kind of attacks a few years ago, before You-Know--I mean, before Voldemort came back. Why now and not then?"

Hermione moved towards them and lowered her voice. "Because, I'd bet, Kingsley didn't make the same deal with them that Fudge and the others did. In return for their cooperation, we give them a constant supply of wizards to feed off of: the prisoners in Azkaban. What Fudge and the others allowed is morally wrong, you know that. Even if they're criminals, they shouldn't have to suffer like that. And innocent people get put in prison--"

"Sirius, I know," interrupted Harry.

"Not only him, Hagrid too, if only for a short time. But you see the point. So, if Kingsley didn't make the same bargain--"

"They've got nothing better to do than attack who they want," Ron finished.

"Can we stop them?" asked Harry.

She shook her head. "Only with Patronuses, and that's only temporary."

"Dementors can't be killed?"

"No," said Hermione unhappily. "Which is part of the reason the Ministry always made this deal with them. This attack could be seen as a form of pressure, to try to make Kingsley let them go back to Azkaban, to have the same arrangement as before they joined Voldemort."

They fell silent as they watched more people file into the Burrow, as fast as people could go through the fireplace. Harry wondered what he would do if he were Minister, and found that he wasn't sure. Again, the thought occurred to him that he wouldn't want Kingsley's job.

The three of them were among ten remaining outside when suddenly, for the first time since they reached the Burrow's yard, the dementors made another run at them. They cast their spells, but outnumbered as they were, three were knocked to the ground, including Hermione. Alerted by those near the door, ten people inside ran out, contributing their Patronuses, and the dementors retreated one last time. Everyone went inside, with Kingsley closing the door behind them.

A few minutes later, only Weasleys remained in the Burrow, along with Harry and Hermione. Arthur and Percy accompanied Kingsley back to the Ministry, while Bill, Fleur, and Charlie returned to their homes. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and George sat in the living room and talked, though after not too long a time George got up and went to his room upstairs. Harry could understand why he wanted to be alone.

Ron mentioned that Dennis hadn't moved at all in the time he'd been holding him, expressing the fear that they hadn't rescued him in time. Harry tried to suppress the idea that his delay in getting his Patronus up had contributed to Dennis's fate. He knew it wasn't really true, but couldn't help thinking it.

The mention of Dennis reminded Harry of something, and he excused himself from the Burrow, saying there was something he had to do. Arriving at Grimmauld Place, he sent a precautionary Patronus through the home, but as he expected, there was nothing there. He went to the living room and looked at the pile of mail, which had increased since he'd left. He looked through it, found the one from Dennis, and opened it, again feeling guilty that he'd neglected it earlier.

It contained the same information Dennis had referred to earlier, but that was not all. The last paragraph read, "I wanted to say that it was an honor to be in your group, and we all hope you come back to Hogwarts soon. We feel safer with you around. Sincerely, Dennis." Sitting in a chair at the desk, Harry closed his eyes, put his head in his hands, and shook his head at the bitter irony contained in the last sentence. Voldemort might be gone, but all was not well. Kingsley was right; things didn't end neatly with everyone living happily ever after. Sighing, he picked up the pile of letters and started going through them one by one.

* * * * *

Next:

Chapter 3, Order of Merlin, First Class: Disregarding the serious danger the now-unleashed dementors present, Harry goes for a fly alone, causing Ron and Hermione to fear for his safety and question his judgment. Even being presented with society's highest honor can't cheer him up, especially when he discovers Hermione had paid a higher price to stay with him last year than she had let on.

From Chapter 3:

"Earlier today, she received society's highest honor," said Pinter quietly. "She's a public person now."

"And this is how we thank her, by opening up her most personal problems for people to gossip about," said Harry bitterly. "Do you know, Mr. Pinter, why I haven't talked to the media, why I won't talk about what happened, what I went through in the past year? Because it's my life, and I don't want it splashed on the front pages, for people to read and think they know who I am, when they don't. It's for exactly this kind of reason. People say, why doesn't Potter talk to the press? They should be written about, then they might not wonder."