Apocalypse Return

Chapter Two

Harry wasn't in a private room, not even a semi-private room. No, he was one of many beds in a ward. Some weren't occupied; some had curtains pulled around them, but most were wide open, the occupants easily seen.

"Hello Harry!" a young man in the bed to the right of Harry said brightly. Turning his head to view the speaker, Harry was shocked by the flaming red hair and freckles of a Weasley.

"G- George?"

"The one and only!" A cocky grin flashed across his face. When he saw that Harry had realized that the rest of the beds were spaced farther apart than their two, he informed him, "Mum put up a royal fuss until the nurses moved us closer together so she could sit with both of us at once. D- Professor Dumbledore finally made 'er, the rest of the family, and Hermione go home and get some rest."

"Hermione?" Harry questioned, his head spinning. He was talking to George, George who had died a year ago.

"Yeah. Her family's staying with us. Just in case."

The utter shock wearing off, Harry began to take in George's appearance. He looked like he had gone through hell. If it had really been a month - and Dumbledore had no reason to lie to him - then Harry couldn't *imagine* what George must have looked like the very first day. Now, he was gaunt; his skin hung loosely over his bones. Gray circles shadowed his eyes, but Harry knew they had been a bruised black, probably only a couple days before.

"Let's move along, Harry." Dumbledore, who had been hanging back, stepped forward now.

"Yeah, Harry. You had us all real worried you weren't going to wake up. Besides, don't you need to make sure that it's possible that everyone else is alive again?" George winked at Harry, then returned to looking through a book filled with tiny, cramped writing. It looked almost like an accounting book to Harry.

He moved on without saying another word, Dumbledore following closely behind. There were quite a few enclosed beds in a row, so Harry moved across to the other side of the room. The first person he laid eyes on was Lupin. The man looked just as bad as George, and seemed to have aged quite a few years beyond the expected amount. His eyes were closed, but as Harry approached, they snapped open.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, sitting up and swinging his legs around off the side of the bed so he could hug Harry.

Harry moved forward and gladly embraced the man, struggling to control his emotions. It wouldn't do to break down in tears of joy and relief in front of an entire ward of people. But he hugged Lupin tightly, receiving a hug no less intense in return.

Harry couldn't think of anything to say. After all, what were you supposed to say to someone returned from the dead? But there were no words needed. When Lupin let him go, he stepped back half a pace. Somehow, he felt that he should be grateful that most of the people he cared about weren't as dead as he had thought. But there was just an overwhelming bitterness. Only the people who had been *murdered* came back. That's what Dumbledore had said. Not the people who had tripped and disappeared through a black curtain.

"I hear you put on quite a show at the end," Lupin commented.

"I suppose," Harry said. The furious spell battle could be considered that. Now he was suddenly exhausted. The apathy that had struck his limbs only served to compound the deep tiredness that was already there.

"I'm proud of you," Lupin said quietly, his hands gripping the side of the bed. After hearing the wizards at St. Mungo's say that they weren't sure if Harry would ever wake up, he wanted to touch the young man to make sure he was okay. He remembered back when the inseparable trio had first discovered he was a lycanthrope. Harry was the only one who didn't show disgust and fear of his condition. Anger and hatred for helping Sirius before the truth was known, but none because he was a werewolf. There were few enough people like that in the world, and only one whom he considered almost a son. When Sirius died, he had taken over the role, as his best friend would have wanted.

"Thanks," Harry replied, a sad half-smile passing across his face.

The hollow, black circles around Harry's eyes and sunken appearance of his face worried Lupineven more than the long sleep had. There were some things that magic couldn't heal. "You look exhausted."

"I am." Weariness colored Harry's voice and he turned away, slowly going back to his own bed. Before sitting down, he surveyed the rest of the room. It seemed to be filled only with people he had known. The ones he missed terribly. Hagrid in the far corner, his half-giant body taking up multiple beds. Neville, two beds to the left of Lupin. It felt as though someone was watching him, and he turned to see Mad-Eye Moody's good eye boring into him, his magical eye spinning slowly. A shock of bright hair showed where Tonks was. And there was Snape, his pale skin almost translucent.

Harry fell back onto the bed, ignoring Dumbledore's concerned look, deep sleep immediately claiming him. Once again, too deep to dream.

----<

"Shush, Ron! You might wake him up!" The whispered hiss half-roused Harry out of his deep drowse.

"So?" Ron hissed back indignantly. "He's *been* 'asleep' for three bleedin' weeks! I'd rather wake him up to just make sure he's still..."

"Don't say that!" Hermione's voice hitched. "Lupin said he was up and around earlier today..." She drifted off uncertainly.

"Yeah, I was," Harry told them in a groggy voice.

"Harry!" Hermione's shriek pierced his eardrums, almost immediately bringing on a headache. She lunged forward, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug, crying and kissing his cheek.

"Hermione!" Ron finally said. "Don't hog him all to yourself!"

With a relieved laugh, she sat back and wiped away the tears on her face, and Harry was immediately assaulted by Ron. The youngest boy of the Weasley family hugged him tightly, too. Harry realized that he must have been pretty bad off for them to be reacting so. When Ron sat back in the chair that had been pulled up to the bed, the three of them just stared at each other for a few minutes. They had seen things over the past two years that most witches and wizards never saw in their entire lifetime, culminating in the last battle with Voldemort and his army. There were scars - mental and physical - that none of them would ever be rid of. But because of what they had been through, they didn't need to speak.

"So how did it go?" Ron asked a while later. His chair was touching Hermione's and his arm was around her waist. They had been dating since the middle of sixth year. It certainly hadn't lessened their fighting as everyone had hoped, but it made it much more bearable.

"Bloody and violent," Harry responded, not needing to ask what Ron meant. "What do you guys know about what's going on?"

"Depends on what you mean," answered Hermione. "Dumbledore's still not telling us a lot. Namely, how they managed to keep almost the entire war from the Muggles' notice."

"You're staying with the Weasley's?" Harry started with the easy question.

Ron laughed at that. "I know, there wasn't much as it was. But Dumbledore wanted all Muggle-born students and their families to stay with a wizarding family. And mine was the obvious choice for Hermione's."

Now it was Hermoine'sturn to laugh. "Mr. Weasley is having a field day with my parents."

That managed to get a small smile from Harry. "I can only imagine. So," he lowered his voice, "why is everyone here? I mean, it looks as though most of them could go back to their homes."

Hermione shook her head. "No, they can't. Professor Dumbledore told us that it took a great toll on them to be dead, or as close as they were. You should have seen them before."

She stopped talking and Harry finally prompted her. "What do you mean?"

She shuddered instead of answering, so Ron spoke up, his eyes haunted. "She means that they looked almost like skeletons. It was ... George..." He paused for a moment, swallowing a few times. "They're keeping everyone here as a precaution. For at least another week. Some people more."

"You mean like me?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded and looked like he was going to say more, but he didn't. They were all quiet for a while, not talking at all until Mrs. Weasley came back in. She immediately bustled over, Ron and Hermione rolling their eyes as they moved out of the way, going to talk to other people.

"Harry! How are you feeling dear?" Yet another hug and a kiss on the cheek."We've been so worried about you!"

"I'm feeling all right, I guess." He pasted a fake smile on his face.

"Keep down the racket, will ya mum?" George asked crossly from the opposite bed. "*Some* of us are trying to sleep."

"Shush, George," she scolded. "Really, Harry, how are you?"

"I'm fine, honestly," he lied. "Just a little tired."

"Oh, you should get your rest, then.' She smiled warmly and hugged him again. "I'm so relieved that you're alright."

Harry smiled until she turned away, then sighed quietly in relief. Right now, he just didn't feel up to Mrs. Weasley. It was true that he was tired, but that wasn't all. He wanted to crawl into a ditch and die. When he finally looked over from contemplating the whiteness of the ceiling, he saw Ginny walking dejectedly through the door.

~~End Chapter Two~~