The Veil of Memories

Chapter 27

The Girl Who Lived

Dumbledore cleared his throat very softly.

"Did you hear me, Harry?" he said.

"I'm listening," said Harry flatly. He did not look up.

"Very well, then," said Dumbledore. He cleared his throat lightly. "As I said, I'm sorry I didn't see you earlier. As I'm sure you've probably heard, they've made me acting Minister of Magic, a title I hope to dispense with at the earliest convenience. It is not yet known to the general public but Cornelius Fudge was found dead in his home yesterday evening from an apparently self-inflicted Killing Curse. I think that, under the circumstances, the return of his memories and the realization of what he had done - and not done - proved a little too much for him. I shall try to remember his good points."

Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

"The memories of the Muggles have now, of course, been modified, and we have managed to return them to their proper places. Once Voldemort's base was destroyed and the magic of the Memory Charms shattered, the Goblin Federation declared an immediate surrender. No doubt many will try to force conditions on that surrender. I, however, will make it my first act as Minister to sign it without condition. I do not think that anyone should be held responsible for anything they did while under the influence of Voldemort's magic. My next order of business will be the destruction of the gateway: we must make certain that no one is tempted to follow in Voldemort's footsteps as I think you'll agree. And then there's the matter...."

Harry found himself drifting off again into welcome inattention. He supposed that, at one point, he might have been pleased that Dumbledore was privileging him with so much inside information, even if most of it had already been shared with the re-assembled members of the Order of the Phoenix. But now he could care less about that or anything else. All he wanted to do was think about Ginny. And if she was now far away in another world, then he would be, too, in his mind.

It had been two days since they'd escaped from Voldemort's underground base in the Lake District. They had stood there watching the strange island that had formed itself at the center of the lake when several Ministry Aurors, Healers, and other assorted wizards and witches had Apparated into their midst. It had soon become apparent that with the destruction of Voldemort's underground world, the magic of the Memory Charms had become undone.

The Ministry itself, however, along with the rest of the Wizarding World, was still in the midst of disorientation and chaos. The motley group that had successfully reached the top of the hill overlooking the lake had been quickly Portkeyed to St. Mungo's which was full to overflowing. Harry vaguely remembered waiting with Ron and Hermione to see a Healer when the world had started to spin all around him. He'd heard Hermione crying out something about him being in shock. The next thing he remembered it was the next day and he was lying in a hospital bed.

The healers had wanted him to stay, of course, but Hermione and Ron had been given a clean bill of health and Harry had insisted on leaving with his friends. They were the only ones he was willing to talk to, in fact; he was certain that only they could even begin to imagine what had happened to him down in the cavern.

The Weasleys had all been there, of course, and that was what had made Harry want to leave more than anything else. Mrs. Weasley had tried to smile and fuss all over him but she'd broke down in tears every half second. Mr. Weasley had looked as though he was a living, walking ghost. Harry had only got away with the promise that he would go straight to the Burrow as soon as he, Ron, and Hermione were finished at Hogwarts, a promise he instantly regretted. The truth was that he didn't want to face them. He didn't want to face anyone right now, of course - but least of all them. It was obvious they already knew about Ginny; how could they not? But before long, he would have to tell them exactly what happened and he couldn't imagine how he was going to do that.

They had prepared the Hogwarts Express to return all of the students to Hogwarts for one day to pack up their things before returning home for the summer holidays, although rumor had it they would have to return after only a short break to make up their missed lessons during the summer holiday. Professor Lupin, who had also remained at Harry's bedside, had insisted on returning with them. He had also arranged for Ron, Hermione, Harry, and himself to share a private compartment on the train. Harry knew that Lupin was concerned for him but he didn't really want to talk to his former mentor either. More than anything else, he knew he couldn't begin to describe to him what and whom he had seen beyond the gateway. To his credit, however, Lupin had asked nothing and, in general, had said very little. He seemed to understand that Harry needed to keep his thoughts to himself for the time being.

There were reporters everywhere, of course. St. Mungo's. Platform nine and three-quarters. Rumor had it they had conjured a guesthouse in Hogsmeade, all in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Boy Who Lived whom it was already widely believed had returned to everyone their forgotten memories, not to mention slain Lord Voldemort for good. The Aurors had kept them away and they weren't allowed on the Hogwarts grounds at all, of course. But as soon as Harry caught sight of them or heard something about them, he felt a horrible feeling of nausea. He didn't want to be the hero; right now, he didn't even want to be one of them.

While Harry had gone quiet and sullen, Ron seemed to be dealing with things by talking and eating as much as he could. It annoyed Harry. It annoyed him a great deal. But he also knew that even though the last thing he would do was mention Ginny in front of him, Ron was hurting a great deal himself. Hermione tried to smile and listen but Harry had not missed the furtive and slightly fearful looks she had given the pair of them; it was as though she thought they were two components of a volatile potion that, when mixed, would explode in her face.

Ron's chief topic of conversation on the train had been the nasty shock Harry and Hermione were in for when they arrived at Hogwarts. When they finally did make their way in the thestral-driven carriages up to the castle, it turned out to be Ron who was in for the shock. The school remained standing exactly as Harry had always remembered it. Ron continued to explain how it had been burned to a crisp even as they walked through the front doors. If the circumstances had been very much different, Harry might have found the whole thing somewhat amusing.

But they weren't and he didn't. And he wouldn't have been impressed if Dumbledore had re-conjured all of Scotland. He already knew that he could never bring back one short, freckle-faced, red-haired girl.

Things seemed all in confusion once they arrived inside. Hermione had said she'd been told by Pansy that a dinner would be provided in the Great Hall but there was no word on when that would be. Rumor had it that they were waiting for Dumbledore to return from London where he'd been trying to sort out much of the chaos the Ministry was in. Everyone had seemed to want to talk to Harry but Hermione had shooed them all away and Lavender had been more than willing to entertain all listeners with lurid tales from St. Brutus's. Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity of waiting, a tawny owl had flown in through an open window with a summons for Harry from the headmaster.

Harry hadn't wanted to talk to Dumbledore at all, but he'd known it would be coming. He had sat down at one end of Dumbledore's desk and the headmaster asked Harry gently to tell him everything that had happened from the moment he and Hermione had first entered Voldemort's base.

In truth, Harry hadn't wanted to tell Dumbledore anything but, once again, he hadn't cared enough to fight him, and so he had monotonously described the horrible events in the cavern down to every last detail. Dumbledore had not interrupted him but had merely sat with his fingers in the shape of a triangle listening to the details. The only question he'd asked had concerned the manner of Voldemort's death, and then he had seemed satisfied with Harry's explanation.

And so now Dumbledore had gone off into a long explanation which Harry was certain amounted to nothing more than wizard politics he had no wish to be a part of. His attention was only drawn back to the headmaster when he heard him call his name more than once in quick succession.

"What?" asked Harry impolitely, his head rising up from the table.

"I asked whether you would at least consider my offer."

"Oh - actually, I don't think I was paying attention," said Harry laconically. "But whatever it is, I'm not interested."

There was a pause in the conversation. Dumbledore sighed and looked down at his desk. Harry immediately looked away. He didn't want to see the sad expression in the old man's eyes and be tempted, even in the slightest, to believe it was sincere.

"Harry, I'm sorry about Ginny," Dumbledore finally said.

"You're not sorry."

"You think I used you all these years."

"That's about the long and short of it, yes."

"I expect you want to destroy my possessions again."

"I don't want to destroy anything. I'm not a child anymore. I just don't want to talk to you. Is that allowed?"

Dumbledore sighed again. "Harry, I know what you're feeling."

"You don't know."

"Are you sure about that, Harry? Are you very sure?"

Something in Dumbledore's tone of voice made Harry look up from the desk for the first time. There was a sudden edge to his words, an edge that reminded Harry of the way that he himself had been talking a moment before. And when he met the old man's eyes, he almost imagined he could see the dangerous glare of a very powerful wizard who had once been very much aggrieved, but the expression vanished almost immediately and the headmaster once again appeared a little old and sad.

"For what it's worth, I believe you might be right, Harry. I fancy I did use you. I didn't think so all along; truly I didn't, but now I'm not so sure. Before she died, Ginny reminded me of something, something very important, something I had once known but had allowed myself to forget: the end does not justify the means, Harry; not ever. Whatever one sacrifices only grows to be twice as worse as the threat one thought he was facing in the first place. And that's why I have to leave."

"What?"

Harry found himself feeling very non-plussed, but then instantly regretted having fallen into what he was certain was another of Dumbledore's manipulative webs.

"I'm leaving, Harry," said Dumbledore, sounding tired again. "I am resigning as Headmaster of Hogwarts. Within the hour, there will be a dinner in the Great Hall and I will make a general announcement to all the students and staff. I wanted to tell you first, though, Harry. I felt that you deserved that much."

"S - so you're finally going to be Minister of Magic," said Harry, still looking at Dumbledore suspiciously.

"No, Harry." Dumbledore smiled for the first time. "Then I'm afraid I might make things even worse. No, I'm going to take on another rather more important position, but one simple enough that I daresay I'll manage it. You might consider it a form of retirement, though under present circumstances, I suppose you could say it was the most important position in all the Wizarding World."

Harry was now completely baffled, and mostly convinced that Dumbledore was leading him on a long tangent aimed at easing his resentment.

"I don't understand, sir," he said, a little shortly.

In response, Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked over to the corner of the office. Harry was surprised to see that the Mirror of Erised still stood there in an enlarged alcove. Harry wasn't sure whether it had been there all this time or whether it had been destroyed in the fire that had gutted Hogwarts and somehow been restored like everything else. It was only now that Harry remembered first seeing it there the night he and Ginny had come to ask Dumbledore to finally tell them the truth about the mysterious Professor Janus, little comprehending the final price of their curiosity.

"I had been preparing for this ever since the first day Sirius walked into my office. Even then, I suspected that even if we could eventually stop Voldemort, his meddling with forces he did not understand would forever realign the most fragile yet basic balance of all - that between life and death."

"But what's that got to do with the Mirror of Erised?"

"I plan to capture some of its properties - as a protection, Harry. As a kind of shield."

"A protection for what?"

"Harry, do you know what is on that island that rose up from the middle of the lake?"

"Well... the gateway's there. I saw it."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, but that is not all. There are things on that island that don't belong on our world but that now exist permanently within it. I must make sure that they do not fall into the wrong hands. That will be my job."

"What - what sorts of things?"

"Forces, Harry. Energies. Things from beyond the gateway. In order to ensure their safekeeping, it will be necessary for me to live out my remaining years on the island. I daresay it may also have some restorative properties, though it won't completely postpone the inevitable. As my powers are limited, I shall need a little help and that is where the Mirror will come in." Dumbledore ran his fingers almost affectionately around the gold rim at its side. "As soon as I have finished uncovering enough of its magical secrets, I plan to charm the water of the lake to reflect its properties."

Harry frowned. "You mean," he started. "You mean that the entire lake will act like one giant Mirror of Erised?"

Dumbledore smiled. "More or less."

"And so - and so anyone who looks into the lake will see exactly what they desire? And then they won't want to go any further?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Like flies to the ointment. Whoever desires the island's power will be precisely the sort of person who'll never want to leave the side of the lake. Only one who desires nothing that he does not already possess will be able to pass. I think you'll agree I have very little to fear from someone such as that. And that's where you come in, Harry."

"Me?"

"Yes, Harry. I'd like you to be my Secret-Keeper."

"I - I - me? But I'm not - I - why would you choose me? Surely someone from the Order - "

"Precisely the sort of person who would be most likely to distract me from my task with well-intentioned but nonetheless distracting requests for help with whatever trouble the future may bring."

"But you don't think I would come to bother you?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No, I don't, Harry. Not unless it was truly important, that is. You understand what it feels like, Harry. You most of all."

Harry looked at Dumbledore for a moment. He did understand, though he was surprised that Dumbledore knew it. But there was one thing he was sure he wouldn't be able to do.

"I don't think I would ever make it across that lake," he said darkly. "I don't think I would ever want to leave what I saw in its surface."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you, Harry."

Harry looked down again. He felt his anger at Dumbledore begin to boil once more. The office suddenly seemed very claustrophobic and he wanted very much to get away back to his friends. No, not back to his friends, he suddenly decided. Just alone somewhere with only his thoughts for companionship.

"So that was your offer, sir?" he said, a little gruffly.

"Oh, dear, Harry, not entirely. You really didn't hear anything I said, did you?"

"I suppose I must have been a little preoccupied."

Harry made sure Dumbledore could hear the bite in his tone but the headmaster made an infuriating, if predictable show of not taking the slightest notice.

"The unfortunate events of the last year have left Hogwarts with a number of vacancies," he ploughed on. "I daresay Professor McGonagall will fully recover from her experience in Azkaban in time to take on the vacant position of Headmaster. Professor Harmon has already agreed to stay on as Potions Master and I will be advertising for an Astronomy Master to replace Professor Sinistra and a Transfiguration teacher to replace Professor McGonagall, but that still leaves us with the perennial question of who will take up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry made sure Dumbledore heard him scoff. "You might as well just offer the position to Grubbly-Plank permanently. You won't get anyone else."

"Professor Grubbly-Plank, Harry. But I was rather hoping you might be able to help."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore again, a little surprised in spite of himself.

"I don't know anyone who will take that job."

"Not anyone, Harry. You."

There was a moment of silence. Harry peered at Dumbledore.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Of course, if you'd rather be an Auror, I'll understand. I've little doubt you'd make a very fine one."

But Harry shook his head and the way Dumbledore was looking at him, Harry could see that his rejection of the proposition didn't come as much of a surprise.

"I don't want to be an Auror anymore," he muttered, though he hadn't realized he'd felt that way until Dumbledore had asked. "I've seen - I've - it's all too much now."

Dumbledore nodded his understanding. "Then you'll consider my offer? I realize - "

"Wait, I - no! I mean - how could I be Defense Against the Dark Arts Master? I mean I - I haven't even finished my N.E.W.T.s."

"A formality which I hope you will complete along with the rest of your class at the end of the summer holidays."

"But - but even if - I mean, don't all Aurors have to go on for more years of schooling? And surely the Defense Against the Dark Arts Master can't just be someone - I mean, it's mad."

"Not the maddest thing I've done, I assure you," said Dumbledore, smiling very slightly. "I don't deny it's a little unprecedented. But you are far from an ordinary wizard, Harry, and I've little doubt that your appointment will be very well received by the staff, parents, and students alike."

"But I - "

Harry looked up at Dumbledore again. He suddenly realized he was out of excuses. He also realized that although he'd never really thought about it before, Dumbledore's offer now seemed to suit him exactly. He thought back to his days leading the Defense Association. He had been good at teaching, hadn't he? His small group of students had learned a lot and they had continued to return even in face of Umbridge's threats against "illegal" organizations. And he could see exactly how he was going to change the curriculum. No more of the textbook rubbish. Everything would be practice. And if he was a little uncertain to begin with, then surely Professor Lupin would only be an owl -

Harry's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. A sudden image of Ginny rose in his mind. Screaming in pain as Voldemort cursed her. Falling down onto the structure, her lifeless eyes looking up at him, deep and accusing. He felt suddenly ashamed at how quickly he had started to think of the future - a future without her - a future that really was no future at all. And he was even angrier at Dumbledore for manipulating him into forgetting her.

"No," he said abruptly. "I'm not interested."

Dumbledore frowned. Harry could see the false pain gathering in his eyes and he forced himself to look away before the headmaster could find another way to convince him it was real.

"Very well, Harry," he said. "It's your choice. Should you reconsider, however - "

"I'm not going to reconsider," said Harry brusquely.

"As you wish."

"Can I leave now?"

"Of course."

Harry got up from the desk and walked quickly toward the door. He was on the point of opening it when Dumbledore said:

"Harry, you should have faith in your father."

Harry turned back around and looked at the headmaster angrily.

"Who says I don't?" he asked spitefully.

"I see. Very well then, you should have faith in yourself."

Harry felt his anger start to rise very quickly.

"Why should I?" he demanded. "Didn't you listen to everything I told you? I killed her! I let her climb up that structure even though I knew she was going to die!"

"But if I remember what you've told me correctly, Harry, you turned around and went back after her."

"By then it was too late."

"Did you know she was going to die, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said, but not before hesitating a moment.

"Are you sure about that?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

"Yes! Isn't that what the prophecy said? I had to give up that which I value most and that was Ginny. I should have known it all along. She tried to tell me and she was right."

"Ah, but I suggest to you that the prophecy never meant Ginny at all."

"It said I had to give up whatever was most important to me. Who else could that have meant?"

"Not who, Harry. The prophecy said that whomever destroys the Dark Lord 'must let go of that from which he least wants to part.' I have watched you for many years, Harry, and I feel I can say I know you well enough to know that what you least wish to part from is your own ability to take control of the events around you. In that respect, you're not much different from most, and considering you've spent much of your life under the control of others, it's very understandable. But had you not initially agreed to let Ginny take some measure of what you normally keep to yourself, you could never have defeated Voldemort."

"Yeah, well, look where it got me."

"Harry," said Dumbledore gently. "If Ginny does return, then you'll have done for her what no one else ever did. By allowing her to face Voldemort on her own terms, you may not have saved her life, but you rescued her soul, part of which, I fear, had never quite returned from the Chamber of Secrets."

"Yeah, and that's a big if, isn't it?"

Harry didn't want to wait for Dumbledore's response. He turned the handle of the door and swiftly left the office.

***

"Harry!"

Harry quickened his footsteps. He knew exactly who was calling him and it was the last person in the world he wanted to talk to, and given present circumstances, that was saying something.

"Harry!"

Harry sighed and stopped walking. Perhaps it would be better just to get the whole thing over with. Just as long as he could pretend to listen and not actually have to say anything.

"Oh."

Luna seemed surprised that he had stopped to talk to her. She regarded him with a characteristically wide-eyed expression.

"Was there another Harry you were calling?" Harry finally said, a little impatiently.

"Oh, no. I expected you to put up more of a fight, that's all. I expect I wouldn't want to talk to anyone at all if I were you."

Then why do you want to talk to me, Harry wanted to scream at her, but just as with his conversation with Dumbledore, he didn't feel he could really be bothered to muster the energy.

Luna still didn't say anything but continued to peer at him as though she could see through into someone else's face. Harry expected she was trying to figure whether he was really an alien in disguise. He wondered whether she would really notice if he slowly started to walk away when another thought occurred to him.

"S - so you got out of Azkaban?"

"Oh, yes," said Luna brightly. "We all got our memories back all of a sudden and then the guards seemed to know that we weren't really prisoners at all. Then the Ministry came and took us all back here; we've only just arrived. Some of the students are still in St. Mungo's, though."

"Is - is Neville all right?"

"Oh, yes, he's fine now. He did get all upset when we were in Azkaban, poor dear. He kept saying how he was beside himself with guilt for some crime or another he'd falsely believed he'd committed, but I kept telling him not to worry, that it was probably all a colonization plot by the aliens. After all, it doesn't stand to reason that Neville would hurt anyone, does it?"

Harry was annoyed to find that a small smile had reached his lips. "No, I suppose not."

"Harry, I wanted to tell you I'm really sorry about Ginny."

"Oh, er... yeah, thanks," Harry just about managed to mumble, any trace of smile fading from his lips. What was wrong with this girl? Didn't she even begin to understand how sensitive -

"I expect you think I'm being a bit forward saying this, Harry."

"Oh, er, no, no, I - "

"Of course you do. But I wanted to say it anyway. After all, it's how I feel. It's a bit stupid to go tiptoeing around people pretending not to talk about what's really on everyone's mind, isn't it?" Luna stopped and looked pensive. "Perhaps that's why everyone thinks I'm so loony. After all, that's not what they think, is it? Or maybe I learned this from Ginny."

Harry had heard enough.

"I - I'm on my way to the Great Hall, actually, Luna, so if you don't mind - "

"Oh, is the dinner about to start then?"

"No, I mean yes. Yes, I think so. Quite soon."

"Oh, maybe I should go with you. No," Luna quickly added before Harry had said anything at all. "You want to be alone, don't you? No, please don't say anything. I understand. It isn't just me."

"Right," Harry mumbled. "So I'll just be - well, I'll - "

Harry didn't manage to finish his sentence before turning around and walking absently down one of the corridors that led near the staircase to Gryffindor Tower but in the opposite direction from the Great Hall. He hoped that, for once, Luna might summon the tact not to point it out.

"Harry, wait!"

Apparently not.

"I know," said Harry, turning around. "The Great Hall's - "

Harry suddenly stopped talking. Luna was looking at him very differently now. It took Harry a moment to realize that it was because she was finally looking straight at him instead of trying to peer at a point on the wall beyond his head. He had only just managed to register this when tears started to pool in Luna's eyes and run slowly down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away.

"I was wondering, you know," she said in a sort of croaky variation on her normally vacant and dreamlike way of talking. "You were beyond the veil, weren't you?"

Harry wasn't sure how Luna could have possibly known this, but he didn't stop to ask. He continued to stare at her dumbly.

"You don't have to say," she went on. "I just know you were; I can tell, you know. I - I just wanted to know - well, was my mother there?"

Harry tried to speak again but found that his throat had run very dry.

"I - I - I'm sorry, Luna," he finally managed, amidst a cough. "I didn't - I didn't see her but," he added quickly as Luna's face began to fall. "I'm - I'm sure she's there. I mean, she must be; they all are. I - I - it's just - not all of them were there, I mean, where I was. But they're all right now, Luna. Everyone there is all right."

And one day we'll be there with them, too, Harry thought, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say it.

"Oh, well, that's reassuring," said Luna, as though she had gotten over the whole thing immediately. "I expect you wouldn't want to talk about it but still, well, maybe, sometime, if you ever felt you were ready, that is, I - well, anyway, I'd better leave you alone then, Harry. I expect we'll see each other later on in the summer."

"Oh, yeah," said Harry, suddenly feeling a little numb. "I - we'll - yeah, I suppose."

But Luna had already turned around and walked away.

Harry then turned around to walk away himself, not really caring very much where he was going. He quickly decided that he didn't want to talk to anyone else, particularly not anyone like Dumbledore or Luna who was going to make him question how he felt and why. He wasn't going to the dinner, of course; he'd already heard the speech from Dumbledore. He was just going to -

"Harry, there you are!"

A forceful arm pulled him behind a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Ron?"

"Listen, mate," said Ron in a whisper. "Hermione's gone down to the Great Hall already. I wanted to talk to you alone while we've got the chance. I don't think, well - look, I know you're worried about going back to the Burrow and I - "

"I'm not worried about - "

"Just hear me out, Harry, okay? You don't have to worry about anything. When we were at St. Mungo's, I talked to Mum and Dad and told them everything that happened. I made sure they knew the truth before - before - " Ron hesitated. "Look, Harry, I killed Ginny, not you. And now they know it."

Harry looked at Ron for a moment in total incredulity. Under almost any other circumstance, he wouldn't have been able to believe his best friend was serious, but his flushed cheeks and the intense, almost feverish look in his eyes left Harry with little doubt. He still didn't know what to say to him and for a long moment he remained silent. When he opened his mouth again, he seemed only able to muster one word.

"What?"

"I killed her, Harry. If it wasn't for me - if I hadn't - I never should have taken those owls from her. I should have told McGonagall right away. I don't know why I didn't trust McGonagall, Harry; she'd trusted me; Nevins trusted me, too; they all - " Ron broke off. "Well, it happened, didn't it? And Ginny got caught. Let's face it, Harry: she was as good as dead the minute the Death Eaters captured her."

"Ron, that's not true!" insisted Harry, finding his voice again. "We were both alive down there, and I survived. Hermione was with us, too, and she survived."

"Yeah, but Malfoy didn't want you and Hermione," said Ron, his face flushing an even deeper red. "The bastard wanted Ginny. And he got her."

"He wanted to kill us all, Ron! Ginny was alive down there and she would have stayed alive if I hadn't let her climb up that structure."

"It was just the two of you there, Harry. Bloody hell, he was about to blow up the world. What were you supposed to have done?"

"I could have stopped Voldemort," said Harry firmly. "I could have saved her. I should have saved her!" he insisted. "I did it before! Why couldn't I - " A lump started to rise in his throat but he forced it back angrily. "I killed her Ron, okay? I appreciate you trying to stick up for me but it doesn't change the fact. I killed your little sister, all right? I loved her and I killed her. I don't know what's going to happen to us now but I'm not going to live a lie and neither should you. I - "

"Do you always have to be the bloody martyr, Harry? Is that what Dumbledore taught you? Or was it the Dursleys? That everything was always your fault? Well, face it, Harry! This time it isn't about the Boy Who Lived. It's - "

"Is that what this is all about, Ron? Never mind being jealous about me being the hero, you even - "

Harry stopped himself.

"What, Harry?" demanded Ron, anger bleeding out of his eyes. "What?"

Harry sighed.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "Merlin, what an idiot I am." He put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "How many times have we had this conversation? How many times have I picked - Merlin, I - you saved my life, Ron, and you've always been my friend even - bloody hell, I thought you were dead, and now that you're alive, look at - "

Harry couldn't help himself any longer. Though it made him feel horribly ashamed of himself, tears started to run down his face followed by quiet, hesitant sobs.

Ron paused for a moment, then sighed himself.

"Harry, mate, look," he said. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean - " Ron stopped talking for a moment. "Just don't say anything to my Mum and Dad, okay?"

"I wasn't going to!"

Ron held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "OK, then let's - let's just forget about it, all right? I - I mean let's just forget we had this conversation, okay?"

Harry nodded, then quickly and forcefully wiped his tears away.

"Come on." Ron touched the side of Harry's arm. "Let's go to dinner. Hermione's probably waiting for us."

"I'm not going," said Harry flatly.

"You don't have to go like - you can clean yourself - Ginny taught me an anti- " Ron sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Gods, this is awful, isn't it?"

But Harry let the comment drop completely.

"I wasn't going anyway," he explained. "I - I - just don't want to. Tell Hermione I'm sorry, please, Ron? Just tell her - "

But Ron shook his head very firmly.

"If you don't go to this dinner, I'm not going to tell Hermione you're sorry. I'm going to tell her the truth: that you're a bloody git. Harry," he added quickly, before his best friend could parry with a rejoinder, "we're - your - friends. We've been through this before! We went through it after Sirius died, then at that bloody Guy Fawkes ball; we're just not - you can't just abandon us! Harry, Merlin knows what the odds were against us staying together like this - alive - at the end of our seven years here, with Voldemort gone. And you're going to throw it all away just so you can go off and wallow in self-pity somewhere?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Look, mate, you don't - you don't have to do this for me, but please do it for Hermione. You know she'll be worried and upset if you don't go. She told me what happened to you in that school. Gods, Harry, it's a good job Snape didn't come back because otherwise I think I might have killed him myself. You two went through a lot together there. And for a while, the only thing you had was each other. Are you going to forget about that now and pretend that she doesn't exist? That I don't exist?"

There was another long pause, then in a very tired voice Harry said:

"No."

The ghost of a smile flickered over Ron's face.

"Then come on," he said.

***

Apparently, word of the belated dinner had already been sent around the common rooms even while Harry was talking to Dumbledore. By the time he and Ron had approached the Great Hall, most of the students had already made their way in. Hermione was waiting for them at the door.

"There you are," she said. "I was beginning to think you two would never come."

Hermione's eyes told a different story than her words, however. Harry didn't fail to catch her momentary look of surprise and then relief at seeing him there together with Ron. It was enough to tell him that she had almost guessed at the conversation that had taken place between the two of them.

They joined behind the other students entering the hall. Harry could see that many of them, especially the younger ones, were staring at him, but fortunately no one said anything. Ron and Hermione walked protectively on either side of him, almost as though they were his bodyguards.

"I expect Dumbledore has turned this place back exactly the way it was also," remarked Ron. "You should have seen it, though. There was a - "

Ron stopped short as they passed into the hall. It seemed that once again the headmaster had confounded his prediction. The hall did indeed show no signs of the great battle that had taken place there but one could hardly say it had been restored to its earlier form. The structure of the hall remained the same and the faculty table was once again in its place at its front but the student seating area had been completely reconfigured: instead of the four long house tables, there were now many smaller round tables with seats arranged in circles facing one another. A long table ran down the length of the hall near the door containing plentiful piles of food each lit underneath by a small everlasting fire.

"Where are we supposed to sit?" wondered Ron.

"There," said Harry, pointing at a vacant table standing in what had once been part of the long Gryffindor table. "I suppose that's where the Gryffindors are sitting."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron made their way slowly over to the table and sat down.

"I expect these are just temporary," said Ron. "There's probably a complex charm or - aaahhh!"

Ron was quickly cut off as the table at which they were sitting along with their chairs began to move back across the room very fast. Harry looked around and saw that other tables were moving as well. They seemed certain to collide. Harry watched as a table of fourth-year Ravenclaws zoomed quickly toward them, its occupants covering their heads with their hands to break against the collision. At the last moment, however, the table and chairs swerved around to avoid them. It was a bit like a mad version of a ride in a Muggle amusement park.

Finally, their chairs and table stopped at a point further up the room and over toward the middle of what had once been the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "How are we supposed to have dinner if the tables keep moving like this? Come on." He got up from his chair.

"Where are you going?" asked Hermione.

"Well, we can't stay sitting here, can we? I mean we're not in the right place."

"I think all the other tables are full, mate," said Harry.

It was true. The other tables, including all of those in what had once been the Gryffindor section of the hall, were now full of students.

"Perhaps it doesn't want you to sit over there," said Hermione, with a strange look that told Harry she knew more than she was letting on.

Ron seemed about to reply but he was interrupted by a voice behind them.

"Would you mind if I took the seat next to you? I think everywhere else is taken."

Only Hermione, who was now facing back toward the entrance to the hall, could see who was speaking to them. At the sound of the voice, however, both Harry and Ron turned around to find the former Slytherin Keeper Hall standing over them. At the sight of Ron, his face turned slightly pale and his lips went rigid.

"On the other hand," he said icily. "I expect I can find something somewhere. Excuse me."

And he was quickly off.

"Well," said Hermione, looking a bit apologetic, as Harry and Ron turned back around to face her. "I expect it will take some getting used to."

A few moments later, Luna and Neville arrived at the table to take the other vacant seats. Harry and Hermione asked about their health. Harry didn't let on that he'd seen Luna earlier in the corridor. She seemed quite lively again; Neville looked a bit pale but he was obviously pleased to be out of Azkaban. Harry couldn't help but notice that he kept trying to attract Ron's attention but Ron, who had gone very quiet, seemed to find it difficult to look at either him or Luna.

Their exchange of news was interrupted by the tapping of a spoon onto a goblet. Harry looked up to see Professor McGonagall getting to her feet at the staff table. She looked even thinner than Neville and seemed uncertain for a moment whether she would manage to keep her balance, but as she began to speak, hints of color once again suffused her cheeks.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," she said. "Professor Dumbledore would like a few words."

Harry noticed for the first time that Dumbledore was now seated at the headmaster's chair. As he rose to his feet to speak to them, Harry wondered whether it would be for the very last time.

"Welcome back, yes, welcome back," he said, in a slightly tired voice. He took a significant pause and for a brief moment, Harry wondered whether he was going to be able to continue. But when Dumbledore spoke again, his words seemed to come with renewed energy.

"My friends," he said. "I feel safe in saying that the last year has been the darkest in the history of our kind. When I spoke to you in this very same place at the beginning of the first term, we celebrated together the defeat of Lord Voldemort. As most of you now realize, that celebration was premature. None of us anticipated what eventually happened, least of all myself."

Dumbledore lowered his head for a moment but then went on.

"But even this darkest of times - a time when we were separated from our friends, our memories, and indeed our very identities - has now come to an end. Yet although Lord Voldemort has finally been defeated and can now never return, we must not once again become complacent. True evil does not really have a name, only a face it occasionally wears, and if we are not careful, those faces can become our own. We must fight against outward evils, yes, but we also must guard against the evil that arises in our own hearts when we allow suspicion, mistrust, and fear to spread amongst ourselves. We must also learn that when we call others evil, it is sometimes because that name is well earned, but at other times, it is the unseen evil in our own hearts that creates an enemy for us. I regret that I have not always seen these evils coming; it is my hope to begin to do so today. But before I do, we are only present in this room because many have sacrificed their lives on our behalf. It is only fitting that we honor them first."

Dumbledore then read a long list of the names of the students who had died in the battle for the Great Hall, along with Professors Sinistra and Snape. He did not, of course, mention Ginny. Harry wasn't sure whether he should find himself angry at this but then he realized that he might have felt angrier still if he had. There was still a hope inside him, however much he feared to admit to himself, that she might return and it was obvious that Dumbledore shared it, too.

A long moment of silence fell after Dumbledore had finished reading the names, then Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued.

"Many of you no doubt wonder what has happened to the four house tables that once graced this hall. I did not choose to restore them; I can also see now that I should have disposed of them long ago. Naturally, you will all continue to live in separate houses. I daresay also that you will continue to form most of your friendships within those houses. But this hall will be a different place for a different kind of community - one that is no longer divided by suspicion and mistrust but that reaches out to embrace those who are different from ourselves. We will only stay strong if we stand together and respect and appreciate our diverse personalities and talents. The tables will only rearrange themselves every now and again and never once you have already started eating." Dumbledore gave a small smile and seemed to be looking over at Ron. "Forgive me but otherwise it would become far too easy to find ourselves once again entrenched in old habits. In time I hope that the charm will not be necessary.

"You may also have noticed that rather than appearing in front of you, the food for your dinner has been arranged on the long table beside you." Dumbledore gestured to the table with the food. "In a few moments, the prefects will direct you to come to collect your own food in an orderly manner. I apologize for the inconvenience and assure you that this is only a temporary measure. To explain further, I would like to invite Miss Hermione Granger, the president of the Hogwarts Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare, to the front of the hall. Miss Granger?"

Harry and Ron looked over in surprise at Hermione. She shrugged apologetically.

"I - I'm sorry. McGonagall came to see me while you both were away. It will only be a few minutes."

Hermione looked anxiously between them again, the same way she had on the train. Harry very much wished she wouldn't.

"Well, go on then!" said Ron, as Hermione continued to sit at the table.

Giving Ron and Harry one last hesitant look, Hermione got to her feet and walked to the front of the room where Dumbledore regarded her with a patient smile. He nodded to her and she turned around to face the room, taking out her wand and putting it to her mouth.

"Sonorus," she said and cleared her throat a little nervously. "Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore asked me to inform you that, as of today, all Hogwarts house-elves have been given clothes and freed."

A series of murmurs, along with some moans of disbelief, rose up among the students.

"Quiet please!" McGonagall called out. She nodded at Hermione to continue.

"At present, many of the house-elves have decided to return to their villages. Professor Dumbledore hopes that many will return in the autumn, however, to work for pay."

There were further murmurs. Many of the students, especially the Slytherins, looked rather disgusted.

"While we at S.P.E.W. are, of course, grateful to Professor Dumbledore for his wisdom and insight in this matter, there remains much more to be done. House-elves are still enslaved in much of the Wizarding World. Beginning this autumn, S.P.E.W. will change its name to S.L.E.D. - the Society for the Liberation of Elfin Domestic labor. S.L.E.D. will accelerate the work of S.P.E.W. not only fighting for fair conditions for elfin domestic help but also the liberation of those house-elves who remain enslaved. For more on this matter, I'd like to call forward the new president of S.L.E.D., Miss Arabella Wycliffe."

Hermione continued to remain standing at the front of the room but Arabella walked up from a nearby table to join her. She seemed to have written a series of notes which she proceeded to recite to the hall. She was obviously very nervous but Harry couldn't help but think how much older and more mature she seemed than the mousy girl who had first befriended Hermione almost two years before. Harry supposed that St. Brutus's had had a way of doing that to everyone.

Once Arabella began to speak about the specifics of S.L.E.D.'s agenda, however, Harry found himself quickly losing interest. He looked absently around the table and noticed that Hermione's seat was not the only one unoccupied. There were six chairs arranged around each table. Ron, Luna, and Neville had taken three, Hermione's empty chair was one, and his was the other. But there was yet still another next to him. And even though the hall was packed to overflowing with students, no one had taken it. And while Harry wasn't sure why that chair was empty, he had little doubt who it was meant to belong to.

It was Ginny's chair and as Harry looked at it, all he could think was that the very same witch who had given everyone in the room the life to celebrate and mourn as they pleased wasn't there herself to share it.

***

9 June 1998

I don't know why I'm writing this really. I suppose part of me thought I'd forget all of the false memories as soon as we'd gotten our real ones back, that the whole thing would be just like a nightmare that you remember only for a few moments after you wake and then returns back to your subconscious, but I suppose it doesn't really work that way. Something of the nightmare will always stay with me. I know I wrote in this diary to give me comfort in that horrible school (not this one, of course, but one just like it) and I know that it saved me then but part of me is loathe to have to write in it again because I know it's a habit I picked up there. Still, I can't really seem to help it. I suppose it's a part of me now and there's no use pretending that it isn't. I suppose you can go back but you can't really go back. Part of me will be forever changed by what happened.

I can't say I'm not grateful, though, for the chance to spend a little time to myself to straighten out my thoughts. I suppose this is how Harry must feel all the time.

We've been here at the Burrow not even a day now and already I can't stand it. Everyone's nice, of course, but it's a bit like being at a funeral that's always just about to begin. All of the Weasleys are here, of course, but everything's dead quiet. Even Fred and George don't say very much. Mrs. Weasley makes a lot of noise, of course, but it always seems to sound dead and hollow. And she keeps crying and then apologizing, and then someone will go over to comfort her, and - it's all just so horrible, I had to get away, so I'm sitting outside on their garden near a shed sort of place, trying to write this. I even conjured a netball hoop here, speaking of remembering things from St. Brutus's. I find that calms me down as well and I'm still good at it even though I never really learned to play. I just have the memory of playing. It's very strange indeed.

Of course, the worst part about it all is that everyone keeps talking as though Ginny's gone out for the weekend or something but she's coming right back. I don't think they really believe that. I certainly don't think Ron believes it. I'm not sure what Harry believes; he's keeping a lot to himself. He was there, of course, I mean out there wherever Ginny

Hermione sighed heavily. She crossed out her last line and then started a new paragraph.

Of course people don't come back from the dead. I know that. Ginny's gone and the sooner everyone moves on, the better.

But I don't know if Ron or Harry will ever be the same, though. That's why I can't leave here yet. I want to go back and see my parents. I suppose it really was them who came to see me in St. Brutus's. When we left St. Mungo's, I even found the locket with their picture amongst the pile of things the healers put beside my bed, but I don't know whether they'll remember. Part of me hopes they won't. Part of me wishes I didn't either.

I think Ron and Harry both think they killed Ginny. Of course, neither of them did. If what Harry told us was true then she killed herself. Part of me hates her now, I think, hates her for doing this to them. I think she was really selfish actually

Hermione sighed again and crossed out the line.

No, she wasn't selfish, was she? After all, what would any of us have done? Well, perhaps I shouldn't think that. But still, she could only have stopped Voldemort the way she did. But it's still awful, that's all.

Well, what else to say? Everything went well with Arabella's speech, not that it's very much on my mind right now with everything else going on. It looks like we really are going to have to go back and finish up our N.E.W.Ts over the summer. I don't know how I'm ever going to do mine; I missed a whole year! Ron thinks I should stop worrying; of course, I'll do well, he says, but if it were that easy, I would have done them after sixth year.

The group from Azkaban made it back all right. You should have seen the enormous ruckus when Lavender and Parvati were reunited. They spent most of last night trying to catch up. Finally, I just put silencing charms on the pair of them. I'm not sorry; I warned them. I probably should have done it years ago. Lavender was all full of some righteous talk of reporting me to Professor McGonagall when I finally unleashed her beastly mouth again this morning but I just took my trunk and walked out. I suppose I shall hear about it later on in the summer. I suppose that's another thing I never would have done before St. Brutus's but there, I did.

One thing I found out, though: Lavender was stupid and callous enough to act all jealous to Dean about Ginny just because they could remember her again, even though she's dead. If I were Dean, I think I'd find a new bubble world to stuff her away in, but it seems that they're together now. Whatever Lavender did or said to him that day he was beaten by Snape, he can't forget it. Well, I'm happy for him at any rate. It's funny but in one way, even though it was horrible that I forgot about Ron and Harry forgot about Ginny, it was better in a way that Dean forgot about Ginny. Otherwise, he'd still be wishing for something he could never have. Perhaps some good has come out of all this after all, but with all that's happened, it's difficult to believe that it amounts to very much.

I think I've run out of things to say now. I expect I've been out here too long; I suppose I'd better go back in and find

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up. It was Ron.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "What are you doing?"

Hermione looked down at the open diary in her hands. Her first instinct was to shut it, an instinct borne from a world far away built on paranoia and secrecy, an instinct that instantly made her feel ashamed.

"It's - it's a diary," she said. "I - "

Ron frowned. "I didn't know you kept a diary."

"I - I didn't. That was - well, I kept one at the school."

"The school where you and Harry went?"

Hermione nodded, trying to keep the anxious expression out of her face. The last thing she wanted to talk about was the school, but Ron didn't ask anything more. She noticed for the first time that he had something in his hands, a bag. He was fidgeting with it.

"Would you - " he began and then faltered. "Would you come for a walk with me?"

"Of course," said Hermione. Her heart lightened. Maybe he would finally tell her what was on his mind.

Ron didn't move for a moment. He just stopped and looked at her. Then, very slowly, he took the bag into his left hand and held out his right one for Hermione to take. It was full of nervous sweat but she held onto it tightly.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I don't know. Not here."

"Up to the hills?"

Ron looked up at the hill above the Burrow that Hermione was pointing at. It was the near the spot where they had found Harry and Ginny kissing at the end of the previous year. There was a large tree on that hill, and although Hermione didn't know it, it had been planted the year that Ginny was born.

Ron nodded. "All right," he said.

And slowly they began to walk.

***

It had been three days since Harry had defeated Voldemort and Ginny had disappeared through the veil. He didn't know if there was really any chance she could make it back now. He had started to wonder if the vision he had felt beyond the veil had really even happened. It all seemed just like a dream.

He still didn't want to stay in this world. No matter how much Hermione and Ron loved him, he still couldn't help but feel he was alone here. Maybe he'd really been alone since the day his parents had died. He was certainly alone now that Ginny had died. But he knew he couldn't; he couldn't if there was any chance Ginny would still come back. Part of Harry hated himself for even believing it might happen. He wondered how long he would continue to believe it. Yet he couldn't seem to completely let go of the hope. He could still see his father standing in front of him hazily promising he would do everything he could to get Ginny back. He remembered Ginny herself shouting to him that she'd never leave him. What had she meant by that? It was horrible being trapped in this limbo.

Harry took several deep breaths of air as he walked. It wasn't all that warm of a day; in fact, it looked as though it was going to rain soon, but he had to get away from that house. It felt so hot and stifling. They had all taken good care of him, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George, Ron and Hermione. Professor Lupin was planning to come next week, though Harry knew he couldn't survive that long.

He knew he had to leave this place.

And so he had managed to tell Mrs. Weasley. Naturally, she'd been very upset, but it had been the only way. Harry had insisted he would return as he soon as he could - and he didn't doubt that he would. After all, he hadn't really anywhere else to go, had he? But at least it might be give him some breathing room, some time alone to think, however short that time might be.

Harry also knew that he couldn't leave without telling Ron and Hermione and so he had gone out to look for them. He wasn't really sure where they'd gone; it was probably somewhere private. Maybe Ron even -

Harry's thoughts came to a halt. He looked out toward the hill behind the Burrow, out at the tree where he and Ginny had sat, kissing and talking the year before when Hermione and Ron had found them and they'd all gone walking down the hill together happily. There were two figures standing underneath the tree - Ron and Hermione. It was very far away and Harry could only see faintly but Ron had something in his hands. A bag. And as Harry watched, he slowly began to untie it.

Harry already knew what was in that bag. He wanted to turn and walk away. He didn't want to see and he knew he wasn't supposed to but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. All he could do was continue to stand there and watch as the lives of his two best friends were about to change forever.

***

They reached the top of the hill and Ron stopped walking. Hermione turned to face him. He still kept hold of her hand. They stood there staring at one another for a moment. Hermione felt a sudden tension like she was sensing the thoughts of the dark grey clouds that had started to swirl above them. A light breeze picked up. A few spots of rain started to fall.

"I - I - " Ron began. "I owe you an apology, Hermione."

Tears suddenly pricked Hermione's eyes. She rushed toward Ron and placed her hands gently on his chest.

"What for?" she asked. "Ron, you can't blame yourself for this! You - "

But Ron shook his head. "I could have prevented a lot of this from happening, you know. If only I hadn't been such a coward - "

"Ron, you are not a coward!"

"You don't understand, Hermione, I - I - "

"Ron, you didn't kill your sister! There was nothing you could have - "

"You don't understand." Tears started to pool in Ron's own eyes now. "This isn't about Ginny. Well, in a way I suppose it is. But it's really about us."

"Ron, you don't have to - "

"Please let me finish, Hermione. Because if I don't finish this time, I'm afraid I'm never going to."

Hermione was silent.

"I - I - " Ron looked down at the bag in his hands. "I wanted to give you something, remember?"

"Yes, but I thought you said - I mean - "

"When I thought we were going to die, Hermione, I thought I didn't need to. But now - now I think we're going to live but still, you can never tell. You can never know what's going to happen. I mean, look at Ginny. We just have to..."

Ron's words trailed off.

"Bugger," he said, "I'm not really good at making speeches. Here."

Ron unwrapped the bag. Hermione looked inside and, being Hermione, she knew exactly what it was she was looking at.

The rain began to fall a little harder but neither of them seemed to notice. Hermione looked down at the wizard rings swirling about almost innocently inside their battered case. Suddenly, she wasn't thinking about Ginny or the school or Harry or anything else. The past, present, and future seemed all to have collided on this day on this hill and Hermione suddenly had the feeling it was always going to be that way.

"Will you - " Ron began. "I mean if you don't - "

Hermione snatched the box into her hands. Before Ron could say anything more, she tore open the glass cover. The cover and felt case fell into two pieces on the soft green grass beneath their feet. The freed wizard rings rose into the air, continuing to twirl around and around each other like two butterflies in love. Then, with a quiet almost imperceptible ping, they touched and then rushed down each toward the left index fingers of Ron and Hermione where they would remain until both had passed forever beyond the gateway.

Hermione looked down at her hand in disbelief for a moment. She saw Ron doing the same. Then they looked at each other. A peel of thunder crashed somewhere far away. Hermione started to cry. She reached out toward Ron and buried her face in his chest. He pulled his arms around her and ran his fingers lovingly through her bushy hair.

"Oh, you bloody fool!" she declared, and then started crying again.

And then she felt it. It was as though someone had pricked the ring on her finger with an electric shock. But instead of a surge of electricity she sensed a current of emotions running through her mind. Guilt, loss, and anger poured into Hermione's soul like a wall of fire. For a moment she couldn't hold it; she couldn't stand it. She wanted to yank the ring away, but she continued to hold onto Ron tightly. She pressed her fingers against his back and allowed him to feel her love, her reassurance. She slowly began to reassert her own self, her own feelings. She visualized a wall of calm blocking off the fire, perhaps not fully extinguishing it, but containing it, soothing it, taming it - and she knew that Ron could feel it, too. Then she felt something else coming through the connection: his love, his warmth, his feeling for her, something he could never have described to her himself, a feeling that she'd thought she'd always felt, but now realized that she'd never really experienced until now. And suddenly it was very wonderful indeed to be alive.

The rain still pouring down around them, the two joined lovers slowly moved away from one another. Hermione smiled up at Ron like a giggly little schoolgirl and, after a brief moment, as though it was infectious (which in fact it was), Ron smiled, too.

"I don't know what I'm going to tell my Mum," said Ron.

"I don't know what I'm going to tell her."

"That's easy. Just say it was all my fault."

It was then that, almost precisely at the same time, Ron and Hermione stared down the hill through the misty rain toward the house. It was then that they saw Harry, standing alone a few hundred yards below them.

Without hesitation, Ron held out his hand and waved at him to come up the hill. Harry still didn't move, and then Hermione did the same. They both stood there waving for a moment and then Harry finally walked slowly up toward them. A few minutes later, he had walked to within talking distance. His wand was out in front of him and it seemed as though he had used Hermione's Impervius charm to clean his glasses. Other than that, he was just like them: completely soaked.

They all looked at each other for a moment. Hermione was certain there was a look of disbelief on Harry's face and she could sense Ron's anxiousness, but then Harry slowly broke into a small, slightly grudging smile, and then a fuller one.

"I suppose I should be the first to congratulate you two," he said.

"It's only fitting," Ron replied. "Without you, I don't think we'd be here doing this right now."

There was another pause.

"I never wanted to run away from you," said Harry, his smile fading. "Either of you. You're my best friends. And no matter what you always will be. But I - I came to tell you that I'm - I'm going away for a while, just - just a little while," he added quickly before either of them could object.

"Where to?" demanded Ron. "This is your home, Harry!"

"I - I know. I - I - just, I'm just going back to the Dursleys for a day or two."

"What?" said Ron.

"Just for a day or two!" Harry added again defensively. "I just left some things there, I mean, at the beginning of the year before, I didn't take some of my things with me and I never went back to get them last summer and so - look, just a couple of days, all right?"

Harry didn't think that either Hermione or Ron really believed him and, of course, he didn't really believe himself either, but he knew that he had to find some time to be alone.

"Just don't stay away too long, Harry," said Ron, after a moment of silence.

"I - I won't. I don't want to; I mean that."

And he did.

Hermione looked over at him. He could see a sort of understanding in her eyes and he wondered whether she could somehow share it with Ron as well.

"We're your friends, Harry," she said. "Just remember that. It doesn't matter if you're gone for an hour, a day, or a week. Just don't forget."

"I won't. It's going to take a lot worse than an army of Death Eaters to keep the three of us apart."

Harry forced himself to smile again. Hermione reached out her hand toward his and held it. A moment later, Ron put his own hand on top. The trio of friends looked at each other and Harry realized that Ron had been right. Voldemort had tried to pull their minds, their bodies, and their friendship apart, but he hadn't succeeded. He was dead and they were standing there together, and they weren't going to give that up for anything.

And then they slowly took their hands away. Harry took one last look at Ron and Hermione and then began to walk down the hill and back toward the Burrow. He stopped about halfway and waved back to them, a half-smile finding its way onto his face, before turning around again and continuing on.

***

The dusk of an early childhood bedtime had not quite finished its long drowsy shadow on the village when they awoke Siosia. She looked up into their large eyes and she knew. She knew right away. Though no one had ever really told her, she had prepared herself for this moment ever since she was old enough to remember.

Her mother began to explain then, softly, slowly, trying to make difficult things sound simple as one always does to a child. But Siosia wasn't listening. She already knew. She already understood the most difficult things of all. She had always known it would be her.

She had heard it in the furtive eyes of the adult elves as they neared her, the gossipy whispers of the other children. Even the J'k'ibir seemed to approach her with a sort of calm, awed gravity. But most of all she had known from the day that the navigators had first named her.

Siosia. The New Becoming.

Her parents took Siosia by the hand and led her out of their hut. She could see that the rest of the village had gathered around them. They all walked together slowly down the sacred path that led toward the hut of the elders as though they had planned this all along.

Wizards know many things that elves do not know - most things, in fact. They have knowledge and they have power and they used both to trick and enslave the elves for centuries. But there are a few things - a few important things - that elves know and wizards do not. Long ago, long before Siosia was born, there was another prophecy, a prophecy that wizards knew nothing about, the prophecy of the Promised One. According to that prophecy, a child would be born to a common family at a moment when the brightest stars in the sky formed into the shape of the Lumk!ib. That child, while still a child, would meet the Promised One and give her the gift of the Guika'la.

The other children had all started to wear the Guika'la, the pentrax necklace, as soon as the human strangers had first come into their village to live among them. Each of them had all hoped that the prophecy had meant them, but Siosia had always known it would be her. And as soon as Jiniwuzhy had wrongly gifted the necklace to her, she knew that there would come a day when she would finally give it back. She had also known from the moment she had first laid her small, young eyes on this towering stranger that she was the Promised One, the Kal'j'bak, the human that would come among them like all the other humans, with smiles and friendship, but that unlike them, would never betray elfin-kind, even at the cost of her own life. The Promised One would also mark the beginning of the end of elfin enslavement. In return, the navigators would use their power to bring her back to life.

The village had all been full of talk when the strangers had first arrived, of course. Many had said that the tall white-bearded man was the Promised One, but Siosia hadn't quite believed it. There was a brightness and warmth to his smile, that was sure, but the mind behind his eyes was opaque, clouded and confused in a web of expedient means and desperate necessities. The man with the lines on his face had been kinder and gentler, but there was much that had haunted him as well.

Jiniwuzhy had not been like them. Siosia had known that from the beginning. She had been sure of it when she had tried to learn their language, accepted their mark, and started to wear their clothes. And from the moment when Ginny had made for her the Guika'la, Siosia had known she would one day return it to her, just as the prophecy had said. She also knew that one night Jini would leave them; that she would walk away from the village rather than betray the elves to their enemies.

When Siosia had noticed the wizard with the lined face return that night, she somehow knew that the time had come. As so she had waited, awake in bed long after parents had fallen asleep. She had heard the soft footsteps that no one else in the village had heard. She had walked out of her hut and given the Guika'la back to Jini, the gift that would keep her whole long after she had left to the place where souls merge and drift like pieces of cloud.

They had reached the central square now. Siosia could see the elders standing a little to the side of the grassy ground. Only the navigators, dressed in their priestly robes, occupied the center. They began to slowly draw the nexus triangle, their fire sticks spitting out tongues of flame onto the ground. A few moments later, the triangle was complete. Then all eyes turned to Siosia.

Her mother started to whisper in her ear but once again the tiny elf did not hear her. She already knew what she had to do; she had always known. The navigator nearest her gently handed his fire stick to her. For the first time in her life but with a quiet confidence, Siosia stepped onto the sacred center. She put the stick down at a point where two sides of the triangle met. Then slowly, methodically, and somehow knowingly, she began to draw the pentagon-shape of the pentrax frame around it.

***

It was already well past dark by the time Harry had walked off the double-decker Muggle bus and started his slow walk down Magnolia Road and out toward Privet Drive. He could have Apparated to a nearby point, hopped on the Knight Bus, any number of things to make his journey faster. But he hadn't wanted to reach Privet Drive in any sort of a hurry. It was the journey he had looked forward to rather than the destination. Once he arrived, he sincerely hoped that his stay would be as brief as possible.

He hadn't really needed any of the things, of course. There were just a few clothes and one or two spell books from his early years at Hogwarts that were unlikely to be of much use now. It had all been a rather desperate excuse to get away from the Burrow.

But as he walked down the pavement toward Number Four, Harry immediately began to wish he was back with the Weasleys. He had half hoped to find the Dursleys house still burned down as it had been when he was last there. But there it was: still was as good as new as though nothing had ever happened. The only thing that seemed strange was that all of the lights were still on, even the light in his old bedroom. Harry glanced at his watch to see that it was coming up to 11:30 and he knew that the Dursleys never stayed up very late.

Then another thought occurred to Harry. Perhaps the Dursleys had moved. Yes, now that he thought about it, it seemed very plausible. They wouldn't have wanted to stick around after Voldemort's abortive attack, would they? And the new occupants apparently were the sort that stayed up a bit past the Dursleys' bedtimes.

Harry stopped walking. He considered for a moment completely turning back. After all, it was obvious now that he thought about it: the Dursleys were far away, just as they had always wanted to be, somewhere he would never find them. And his things had already been destroyed. What use was it in going on?

Harry started to turn back around but something made him stop again. It would feel a little bit foolish if somehow the Dursleys really hadn't gone and here he was, practically on their doorstep, without so much as checking to see that they really weren't there. No, he decided, wondering a little why he cared, he would at least go to the front door, ring the doorbell, and confirm his suspicions. After all, whoever it was was still awake, weren't they?

Harry suppressed a feeling of queasiness as he walked up the short pavement that led to the door. He was about to press the doorbell when the door opened and Uncle Vernon's face and neck, thicker and angrier than ever, peered across at him.

"There's no need to shout," said Harry before Uncle Vernon had even opened his mouth. "I'm here to get a few things, that's all. And then I'm leaving and never, ever coming back again. Understood?"

Uncle Vernon's face twisted and contorted as though something was pulling it into an unseen dimension.

"Not feeling well, are we?" said Harry, stepping over the threshold of the door and into the house. "Dudley's really gone and done something awful this time, hasn't he? Disappeared? Been arrested, perhaps? It was bound to happen, you know."

Uncle Vernon's spittle seemed to catch in his throat but still no words came out of his mouth.

"Well, I'll just be up to my room and then on my way, shall I?"

Harry tried to duck past Uncle Vernon and walk up the stairs but the beefy-framed man moved to block his path.

"You - horrible - little - you - your kind - never again - in my house - I thought I told - "

"Yes, I realize you weren't expecting me."

But Uncle Vernon smiled a very horrible smile and shook his head.

"We weren't expecting you?" he said rhetorically. "We were expecting you all right, boy!" he boomed. "Why else would she be here? And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Sorry," said Harry flippantly. "You seem to have stumped me this time."

"The girl. The - one of those - those - bloody red-haired - the ones that gave Dudley that - that - she's your girlfriend, isn't she? Well, she's tricked her way in here, she's been sitting in your bloody room for the past bloody hour, and she isn't bloody welcome!"

Harry's heart stopped. He was vaguely aware that Uncle Vernon was still speaking but the normally shattering sound of his voice now seemed to be coming from very far away. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Voices inside his head begged him to calm down, pleading with him not to give in to the enormous feeling of hope that was now spreading out from his heart like a mushroom, telling him that if wasn't her, if it wasn't Ginny, he'd never be able to get over the loss a second time.

Harry tried to move around Uncle Vernon again. The only way out of this was to see, was to know for himself. But the older man blocked his way a second time.

"Oh, no," said Vernon. "No, you're not. You're not going up there until you've promised me you're - "

Vernon stopped talking as he found Harry's wand poking into his substantial stomach.

"You can't use that," he said, looking a little nervously from the wand to the manic smile on Harry's face. "You're - you're - they'll expel you from that school again."

"Sorry, no," said Harry, still smiling. "School's over, I'm afraid. I'm of age now."

Vernon's blotchy complexion faded to a blanch white. He quickly stepped aside still eyeing Harry's wand. Harry for his part didn't waste another moment. He tore up the steps, two at a time, and flung the handle to his room door open.

His room was exactly as he'd left it, save for a Playstation and a new-looking iMac that had been moved in on top of the desks, obviously for Dudley's benefit. Sitting on his bed, her arms around her knees and her legs pulled up to her chest was Ginny.

"Hi," she said quietly.

From somewhere far away came the sound of pounding footsteps.

"See, what did I tell - " Vernon began, but that was as far as he got as Harry slammed the door in his face and turned the lock.

Vernon continued to pound noisily on the door but were he to know what was going to happen next, even he might have agreed that it was best all around if he didn't enter: Harry hadn't the chance to say anything to Ginny when an enormous rush of feathers flew in from the open window. When the flying and squawking had died down, he untied an envelope from Pigwidgeon's foot. It was addressed to him. He opened it.

Harry,

Ginny's back! She came to the Burrow and we sent her over to the Dursleys by Knight Bus! Thank the gods; I don't believe it!

Ron

Harry let the letter fall to the floor. He was dimly aware that Pigwidgeon was now flying in circles around the room. Ginny called him over and began to feed him an owl treat from the pocket of her dress, the same one she'd been wearing the day that she'd fallen through the veil. Pigwidgeon happily snapped up the treat as though witches returned every day from the dead just to feed him. Ginny looked up at Harry and Harry looked down at her but still he said nothing. He didn't really know what he could say.

"Are - are you - are you really - are you real?" he finally managed.

Ginny nodded.

"I - I mean." Harry walked cautiously toward her. "You're not - you're not some sort of - I mean Polyjuice Potion or, well, or ghost or - or something?"

Ginny shook her head.

"I mean, I - I - I don't - I just - "

Harry couldn't help it any more. The tears were rushing to his eyes. He didn't even try to keep them back.

"I'm sorry, I just - I just don't want - I can't - if it's not you then - "

Ginny sighed. "Oh, Harry," she said. "Come here."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He walked over to his bed, dropping the bag he'd been carrying to the floor.

"Touch me," she said. "Feel me. I'm here. I'm real."

She took hold of his hand very gently and touched it to the side of her face, then her shoulder, and finally down the fabric of her dress to her side.

"Ask me anything," she added.

"But I - I - I shouldn't - I should just believe; I should just trust you, shouldn't I? I mean - "

"But you don't want to be hurt," Ginny finished. "You don't have to apologize to me, Harry. I understand. I'm not angry; I can't be. Everything I am, the little girl I was, the woman that I want become: you gave it all back to me when you let me face him and stop his plans myself. Ask me something; go on. Ask me something only I could know."

"Well, er, what was the name of the game we played during the Guy Fawkes ball last year?"

"Spellmaster and then we played Wizard Truth but I don't think we ever finished that one."

"OK. Er, what's the second track on that Smashing Trolls song spell I gave you?"

"You never gave me a Smashing Trolls song spell, Harry. It was a Weird Sisters Muggle CD. And the song's called Confounded."

"What's the color of my underwear?"

Ginny's mouth opened and she went a bright shade of red, but then she smiled as she saw the mischievous smirk crawling up the edges of Harry's mouth.

"Harry Potter, I hope that was a trick question."

Harry had heard enough. He put his arms around Ginny's shoulders, let his hands touch the soft face he thought he would never touch again, let his fingers run through the silky strands of the bright red hair he never thought he'd feel again. The voices in his head had vanished now, replaced by a euphoria he couldn't quite bring himself to believe even as he felt it.

"It really is you, isn't it?"

Ginny smiled and nodded. She reached out her own fingers through Harry's thick dark hair and then gently down his cheek and then watched as Harry frowned when another worry occurred to him.

"But you - I mean, are you all right? Are you - will you live - will you - "

Harry stopped talking as Ginny nodded.

"I'm fine, Harry. I don't understand it all, still. It seems like a dream to me even now, but your father was wonderful."

"My father?" Harry repeated, a little dumbly.

"Yes, Harry," said Ginny, still smiling. "It was the elves that pulled me back; they protected me somehow through the necklace I was wearing but he helped me to leave in just the right place at just the right time. I don't know how but somehow he knew. And then they sent me to the Burrow somehow - I Disapparated actually, and then I came here to find you. I - I still don't know how I - I think I must have some of their powers now - the elves, I mean."

"B - but what about your body? I mean wouldn't it, well, I mean it was three days, wasn't it? Wouldn't it - well - "

"Decompose? It would have done if it weren't for you, Harry."

"Me?"

"Yes, you brought it through the gateway, remember?"

Harry did remember. And he wasn't sure why he had done so; it had just been instinct at the time but an instinct he was now very glad he had followed.

"My body was trapped between the two worlds, in a kind of stasis. I'm even three days younger now, I suppose. I still have a bit of headache, though, but your father told me that would pass as well."

"You have a headache?"

"Well, I was a corpse for a few minutes, Harry, before you took me inside. It's bound to - "

"You died and you have a headache?"

Ginny nodded again.

"And - and you're really all right, I mean you'll be - "

"Alive for a very long time, I hope. As long as you at least. I made you a promise, Harry, and I'm here to keep that promise."

Harry didn't reply right away. He let his hands ran over Ginny's shoulders again and looked closely into her deep brown eyes.

"I don't want to ever be apart from you again," he said. "I want to buy us wizard rings like Ron and Hermione's. I want to marry you and I want to have lots of children."

"Well," said Ginny, smiling back at him. "Maybe one or two."

Harry looked at her a little longer. He felt like a huge weight had shifted in his chest. He felt fresh tears run down his cheeks, then he began to sob, a little at first, then more, then finally he started to wail like a child. He wailed so loudly and cried so hard he thought he would lose his voice and flood his eyes out but there was nothing he could possibly do to stop himself.

Ginny reached forward and gently pulled her arms around, rocking him softly back and forth and running her fingers through his hair again.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered into his ear. "It's over now, it's all over."

And so it was. And so Harry and Ginny, along with their best friends Ron and Hermione, would live the remainder of their long lives on this earth in relative peace. And though their relationship would not be without its occasional problems, they would be far fewer than most of us could ever reasonably hope for. For Harry and Ginny had been blessed early in their lives with the understanding of how precious and fragile their love really was. The scars of their trials with Lord Voldemort, both on their bodies and in their minds, would never really fade away completely, of course, but whenever the demons of their nightmares tried to claim them, they would always awake to find the other lying softly at their side, always ready to treat the other's vestigial fears with caring, reassurance, and love. And one day both would pass beyond the gateway to reunite with the souls of those they had lost and live in the strange world that both had saved when they had still been so very young.

But all that would come in the future. For now, Harry held onto Ginny very tightly. He couldn't imagine ever wanting to let go.