Chapter 37, Picking up the Pieces

by lmb3

UPDATED - The battle is over. The prophecy fulfilled. For Harry life must go on. Harry must face his demons, and come to terms with the loss of so many people and the guilt over their deaths. He must try to find the future he never thought he would have.

1. Part I

Chapter 37, Picking up the Pieces

By

Lewis M. Brooks, III

Description

The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead. The prophecy has been fulfilled, and for Harry Potter, life must go on. Harry must face his demons, and try to come to terms with the loss of so many people, and the guilt over their deaths. He must try to find the future he never thought he'd have.

Author's Note

I loved Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, as I did all the books in the series, but I couldn't help feeling like there should have been a little more to the story, one more chapter before the epilogue, to tell the story of how Harry deals with the aftermath of fulfilling his destiny, coming to terms with those he lost, and trying to let go of his guilt. I tried to fit this exactly into canon, including the elements that J.K. Rowling has talked about in interviews that were not included in the epilogue. Although originally meant to be a single chapter, it ended up being much longer.

This is my final revision of this story (I hope). I would like to thank my Betas, XxXV1kk1XxX on , and Rachel, PenguinsWillReignSupreme on the forums, for all their hard work.

Chapter 37 – Picking up the Pieces, Part I

Harry crawled through the portrait hole, wincing at the dull ache in his extremities. He slowly looked around the empty Gryffindor common room. Harry hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. The brilliant red and gold seemed to radiate inviting warmth even though the room was cold. Just being there seemed to ease the soreness and fatigue that enveloped his entire body. He couldn't help but smile.

Harry was exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept. After they left the Headmaster's Office, Ron and Hermione had gone back down to the celebration. Although it had been a long time since they had slept as well, they weren't all that tired.

Harry smiled slightly. He had noticed that Ron and Hermione had been holding hands as they left him to return to the Great Hall. They were meant to be together. Harry had known that a long time ago, and he was very happy for them. Maybe they would finally stop arguing all the time. Of course, that was unlikely, and he wasn't really sure they would still be Ron and Hermione if they stopped their incessant quarrelling.

Harry sighed. It was finally over. Voldemort wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else ever again. It should have been a reassuring thought, but it gave Harry little comfort.

He couldn't help thinking about all those who had died during the final battle. He tried not to. He tried to concentrate on anything else, but their faces flooded his mind like a deluge he felt would drown him. Fred. Remus. Tonks. Colin. Snape. There were so many.

A few hours ago, if he had been told that it would be the sallow face and greasy black hair of Severus Snape that troubled him most, he would never have believed it. After all of his hatred towards Snape, Snape had been a hero. Harry thought Snape might have been the bravest person he had ever met, or ever would meet. Dumbledore had been right about Snape after all, and Harry had always doubted him. He should have had more faith in Dumbledore. Dumbledore had the wisdom of his entire life to draw on. Of course he had known best. One more thing to lament in a lifetime of regret, Harry thought.

The wizarding world called Harry Potter 'The Boy Who Lived'. Harry thought that was ironic. Had he ever really lived, he wondered? He knew even as he formed the thought that he was ignoring all the good times he had with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the Weasleys, and Hagrid: playing Quidditch, spending time at The Burrow, getting beaten at wizard chess by Ron, and just being with the people who meant so much to him. It was hard to think of those things when there were so many other terrible memories. They flowed through his mind like a river of torment, spilling over its banks with death, despair, and loss. Maybe they should have called him, 'The Boy Who Existed'? Surely this wasn't living.

Harry tried to shake off his thoughts. He lit the fire. Its warmth was soothing to his battered body. He went to a desk in the corner of the room. He found some parchment, a quill, and ink, which were probably left by a student up late doing homework when the battle began. He had a letter he had to write. Putting it off wouldn't make it any easier.

Dear Mrs. Tonks,

I'm so sorry about Nymphadora and Remus. I know how hard this must be for you, and can't be made any easier by the loss of your husband. Nymphadora was a great friend. Remus was like a second godfather to me. I regret I never got to tell them what they meant to me. I'll never forget them.

I want you to know, I will always be there for Teddy. I'm his godfather, and I know how much my godfather meant to me. He told me a lot about my parents that I would never have known without him. I'll make sure Teddy knows how great his parents were and how much they loved him.

Harry paused, thinking about what Remus said to him in the forest, and the best way to write it without having to explain about the Resurrection Stone. He knew that Mrs. Tonks had been informed that they had been killed, but he knew she wasn't told of the specific details of the battle. A single tear trickled down Harry's cheek, splashing on the corner of the parchment. Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steadying himself, then went back to writing.

I spoke to Remus just before he died. He told me he was sorry he wouldn't be there to see Teddy grow up, but that he had died trying to make a world in which Teddy could live a happier life. I will make sure Teddy always remembers that. I would like to see him soon, if that would be all right. Please give Teddy my love.

Sincerely,

Harry James Potter

Harry yawned and shook his head to clear away the fog of sleep that was quickly descending on him. He folded up the parchment and got up, but stopped, frozen as if he were a statue. He hadn't even realized where he was going when he stood up, but now he did. Exhaustion was getting the better of him. He had been going to give the letter to Hedwig to deliver. It was almost a year ago that Hedwig died, the same night Mad-Eye Moody did, just days before Harry's seventeenth birthday. His seventeenth birthday should have been an enjoyable event, but the loss had been too fresh in his mind for it to be really happy. Harry thought that every time he sent an owl for the rest of his life he would think of his loyal friend, the beautiful owl that Hagrid had given him for his eleventh birthday. Birthdays were supposed to be happy, but they only reminded Harry of everyone who wasn't there to share them with him.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but realized immediately what he was about to say. Lack of sleep and physical exhaustion were playing cruel tricks on him now. He almost laughed at the terrible irony of it. Dobby would have taken the letter to the Owlery for him, but of course, Dobby was gone too. Harry knew that he, Ron and Hermione would never have escaped from Malfoy Manor without Dobby's help. That little elf had sacrificed himself to save their lives. The guilt Harry felt was like an icy knife in his heart twisting itself deeper with each passing minute. It felt like a piece of his soul had been ripped away every time he lost someone, leaving a gaping wound behind that Harry did not think could ever heal.

How many had died? His parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Snape, Tonks, Remus, Fred, had all lost their lives. How many others died, or suffered? How many families had been ripped apart?

Colin Creevey was just sixteen years old, and worshiped Harry. He felt terrible for being annoyed with Colin's hero worship all those years. Colin never even had a chance to live. Harry was sure that when Colin snuck into the battle, he was thinking, 'I have to fight, that's what Harry Potter would do'.

How much had the Weasley family suffered? They had lost a brother, a son. George lost an ear. Bill was terribly scarred by Fenrir Greyback's attack last year. Though she rarely spoke of it, he knew Ginny would never forget the horrors of her first year at Hogwarts and the Chamber of Secrets. Ron was poisoned because he accidentally took a love potion that was meant for Harry. Mr. Weasley had nearly died two years ago when Nagini attacked him. Though Harry would often be reminded by everyone how he saved Mr. Weasley's life, and Ron's, and Ginny's, he knew he was the reason they were in danger in the first place. It was his fault. Would he ever be able to forgive himself, Harry wondered? Could they forgive him? Did he deserve to be forgiven? Did he even want to be?

The battle was over; shouldn't he be able to be happy that the prophecy no longer hung over his head like a death sentence? Shouldn't he be happy that the monster that murdered his parents was dead?

How could he be happy? The pain overwhelmed any happiness he could muster. Harry wondered if the feeling of loss, emptiness, and guilt would ever go away as he reached up and felt the broken shard of Sirius' mirror inside the pouch that hung around his neck. Maybe it shouldn't go away, he thought. Maybe that would be his penance for all his mistakes, and all the pain he had caused others, that the pain would never go away.

"Kreacher," Harry called out to the empty room.

With a 'pop,' the house elf was in front of him. He had Regulus' locket, a gift from Harry, hanging around his neck.

"What can I do for you, Harry Potter?" asked the house elf with a smile.

Harry handed the letter to Kreacher. "Please owl this to Mrs. Andromeda Tonks," said Harry. "It's very important."

"Of course," replied the elf, with a slight scowl. Kreacher had obviously not forgotten that the Black family had disowned Andromeda. "Do you require anything else?"

"No…I just want to thank you Kreacher," said Harry, as the little elf looked up at him. "I saw you lead the house elves in the attack on the Death Eaters. That was very brave of you." Harry paused. "Regulus would be proud of you."

"Master Regulus would have done the same," said Kreacher proudly, as he held his head up high. "Kreacher could do no less." The elf paused. "Will Harry Potter be returning to Grimmauld Place?"

"At some point," sighed Harry. "I'm not sure when. I have some things to pick up." Harry didn't know what to do with his godfather's home. Perhaps he would just give it to the Order of the Phoenix permanently. There were too many memories for him to ever be able to live there.

Kreacher bowed and with a 'pop' was gone.

I should have asked him to bring me a sandwich, Harry thought. Though he was hungry, he was far more tired. It was almost noon, but Harry hadn't slept in so long, he couldn't even remember.

Harry walked to the couch in front of the fire, and sat down, he just planned to sit for a few minutes then shower and go to bed. He still wore the unmistakable signs of the battle they had just fought. As he looked at the flames, he tried to push the despair out of his heart and his mind and focused his thoughts on the living. He thought about his friends.

Harry almost couldn't believe that the same Neville Longbottom who fainted at the cry of a Mandrake during second year could have stood up to Voldemort the way he did. He had been a good friend to Harry, and had done so much to support him this past year. Harry was proud of Neville.

Professor McGonagall was more than a teacher. The scream she let out when she saw him in Hagrid's arms still echoed in his mind. Though she always kept her distance from her students, she really cared about them, and Harry knew that he wasn't just another student to her. Any other head of house would have expelled him for the flying car stunt all those years ago.

Hagrid was his first friend. Harry felt terrible that he had made Hagrid believe he was dead. Harry couldn't imagine how excruciating that walk back from the forest was for him, not to mention seeing Voldemort use the Avada Kedavra to kill him. Harry could still remember the pain in Hagrid's voice as they returned from the forest.

There were so many friends and professors he wanted to see, just to thank them for everything they had done. He had seen so many of them during the celebration, but he just wanted a quiet moment to say thank you. The celebration was so chaotic after Voldemort fell, he was completely unsure of whom he had and hadn't seen.

There were so many people who had been there for him. So many people he cared about. People he loved. Harry never told any of them how he felt about them. Harry felt the weight of all the things he should have said pressing down on him, not to mention the burden of his guilt and the pain of losing so many people. He was surprised he could breathe at all.

It felt like his whole life had been spent keeping people at arm's length, never wanting to get too close for fear the people he cared for would be hurt or killed. Sometimes, he would almost think that life as a virtual slave to the Dursleys would have been so much better, so much easier.

There is nothing to be scared of anymore, Harry thought.

He had so many things he wanted to say to the people he loved, but he had never been any good at expressing his feelings. He had always been scared to express them.

Ron and Hermione were more than best friends. He loved them both so much. They had risked everything to help him and he'd never really said it to them.

The Weasleys were the family he never had. He could not help but think of the awful things he had brought into their lives, and the terrible price they had paid. They had stood by him and supported him no matter what had happened.

Then there was Ginny. Harry smiled as he thought of Ginny. When he told Ron and Hermione what he had seen in the Pensieve and what happened in the forest, he had left out one small detail. That detail was for Ginny alone.

Harry craved the feeling of her lips against his again, to smell her, to taste her, to touch her. He had never told her how he really felt. He never said the words he wanted to say most. He couldn't, not before with the future so uncertain.

Now it was different. Harry had to tell her how he felt, and could only hope that she felt the same way, and that she could forgive him for all he had put her through.

Harry couldn't help but think what if she couldn't forgive him? What would he do then?

It all threatened to overwhelm Harry. He felt like a war was going on inside him. On the one side, the pain, loss, guilt, and emptiness for all the people who he had lost, for all the people he had let down, who might be alive if they had not had the misfortune of having Harry Potter come into their lives. On the other side were all the people who he still had. All the people he cared for and loved, and the future he hoped to have.

It all hurt so much he thought his heart would explode.

Harry didn't realize just how tired he was. Before he knew it, his head fell back against the top of the couch, and he slipped into sleep.

As Harry slept, he dreamed. Harry dreamed of things he wanted to say. Things he wanted to say to Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the Weasleys. Things he wanted to say to Dumbledore. It was like his subconscious was telling him it was okay to feel for the first time in his life, that he didn't have to be afraid of his feelings anymore. But through it all, he could still feel the despair, as if lying in wait to pounce on him like a snake, coiled around his heart, and looking for its opportunity to strike. A snake not even the Sword of Gryffindor could destroy.

Harry opened his eyes. The dream was fresh, the good and the bad. He tried to push out the bad memories out that threatened to overwhelm him. Today would be the day to say all those things he should have said before to the people that mattered most. He had to concentrate on that and do it, no matter how hard it might be.

It took only a moment for him to realize two things. The sun coming through the windows seemed to indicate it was late morning. He must have been asleep for nearly a full day, which was not hard to imagine given how exhausted he had been.

He also realized he wasn't alone.

Harry didn't even have to lift his head up and look down to know who was on the couch beside him. He knew it was Ginny next to him. As soon as he had opened his eyes, he could smell the flowery scent that was so uniquely Ginny. He could feel her small frame leaning against him. As he lifted his head he saw the beautiful ginger hair against his shoulder and it brought a smile to his face. She was snuggled up against him. He could feel her warmth, and it felt better than the fire ever could. He moved to put his arm around her shoulders, and she woke with a start.

"Harry!" exclaimed Ginny with a gasp, scrambling to her feet so fast that Harry jumped. "I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep."

"It's all right," said Harry, bewildered at her reaction. Why was she so upset?

"I just came to check on you, I'll go," said Ginny, turning to leave.

Harry sat forward and grabbed her wrist gently. "Wait, don't go," pleaded Harry. "What's wrong, Ginny?"

"It's okay, Harry. I understand if you don't want me here," said Ginny in an unreadable tone. Her expression betrayed nothing of what she was feeling.

"Why wouldn't I want you here?" asked Harry in surprise. What could possibly have given her the idea that he didn't want her around? It was quite the opposite, he could think of nothing better to have woken up to than her being next to him.

Ginny looked at the ground, and Harry could see that her eyes were red from crying. He was sure she had already cried a river for her brother, and it was only the beginning.

Harry was still gently holding her wrist. When Ginny spoke, the words came out strained as if speaking them aloud was making them real. "I just assumed…you didn't want me around. I heard what you said to…Voldemort," said Ginny softly. "You went into the forest to die." She paused, blinking back tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. "You didn't…you didn't say goodbye. I assumed you didn't…want to see me," she finished softly, the pain clearly audible in her voice and in her eyes. Tears were starting to leak from her eyes.

Harry's heart sank. He should have known. He had hurt her again. Maybe it was already too late to tell her how he felt. What if he had lost his chance at happiness?

Harry gently pulled her down into his lap, and hugged her to him. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him back. Harry could feel her tears on his neck, and how fast her heart was beating. He just held her for a few moments gently stroking her hair. He loved the feeling of holding her in his arms again.

After a few moments, he pulled her up to look into her eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes he couldn't ever get enough of looked back at him, filled with so many different emotions.

"Ginny, when I realized that I would have to die at Voldemort's hands, I knew it was what I had to do," whispered Harry softly. He paused and took a steadying breath. "When I was leaving the grounds under my Invisibility Cloak, I saw you. You were helping a girl who had been injured in the battle. I wanted so much to hold you and say goodbye." He paused again, fighting back his own tears. "I knew if I did, I would never have been able to go, and I had to go. It was the only way. I'm so sorry Ginny. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you." He paused again, looking away. "I've hurt you so much. You deserve better."

"I felt you were there," whispered Ginny, more to herself than him. She shook her head slightly after talking to herself and turned her attention back to him. "After the battle, there was a moment, when I felt like you were close."

Harry took another deep breath, and forced himself to meet her gaze again. "I broke up with you to protect you…and I hurt you. I left to find the Horcruxes…and I hurt you. I didn't say goodbye…and that hurt you," said Harry. He had a lump in his throat, and was no longer able to hold back the tears. He looked in Ginny's eyes as tears fell from them as well. "Can you ever forgive me, Ginny?" Harry looked away from her again. How could he have hurt her so much? He didn't deserve to be forgiven. He didn't even deserve to ask her if she would, but he couldn't help himself.

"There is nothing to forgive, Harry," replied Ginny softly without any hesitation. She put her hand to his chin and lifted his face to meet her gaze again.

Harry could see it in her eyes. She meant it. But he still felt she was so wrong. He had caused her so much pain, and taken so much from her. "How can you just forgive me like that?" asked Harry, tears still rolling down his cheeks. "I don't deserve it. Fred is dead…and it's my fault."

The look in her eyes changed immediately. He could tell he had said the wrong thing, and Ginny's infamous temper was about to show itself.

"Harry James Potter, I swear, if you ever say that again, I'll hex you into oblivion," growled Ginny through gritted teeth, her anger feeling like something tangible crackling like electricity in the air around them. "It is not your fault that Fred…" the last word stuck in her throat. Harry pulled her into a tight embrace and felt her shudder at what she was going to say. He held her for a few moments, and then she pulled back and continued, the anger gone from her voice and her eyes. "It is not your fault Fred died. He died fighting for what he thought was right. He fought for all of us, and would do so again. Voldemort is responsible for all of this, not you." She paused. He could see how much it hurt her that he blamed himself. He was hurting her again. "Harry, promise me, you'll never say that it is your fault again. Promise me you will not blame yourself for all the bad things anymore. Think of all the people you have saved. You saved me, you saved my father, and you saved Ron. I know it was you that cast the protection charm that saved my mother from Voldemort. Think of all the good, and don't blame yourself for the bad. I just want you to be all right."

Harry leaned his forehead against hers. She didn't really understand. She couldn't understand what he was feeling, not really. No one could really understand what it was like.

Harry wanted to make the promise, but he wasn't sure he would ever be able to stop blaming himself. He didn't know if he would ever be all right. He had no idea how to go on after all that had happened. He wished it were, but it just wasn't that easy not to blame himself. The guilt felt like it would drown him. It felt like it was latched onto his soul, a part of him, and nothing would ever remove its stranglehold on him.

"I'll make a deal with you," said Harry softly, looking deep into her eyes. "I promise I'll try not to blame myself, and you promise you'll be there to remind me when I forget." Another tear rolled down his cheek.

Ginny leaned close to him and hugged him. "Do we have a deal?" whispered Harry. He could feel her nod into his shoulder. She held on so tight, Harry could barely breathe, but he didn't care, he just wanted to be close to her. He hoped one day that he might keep his promise and that he would be able to stop blaming himself. He hoped that one day he would be all right, but he knew that wouldn't happen soon. He had to wonder if it would ever really happen at all.

"Harry," breathed Ginny, into his ear, still holding him tight, "when I saw Hagrid carrying you out of the forest, I thought you were dead. We all did. I felt like I was going to die, like some part of me was lying dead on the ground next to you at Voldemort's feet. I felt that if Voldemort killed me where I stood, it would be far less cruel than making me live another moment without you."

The pain in her voice cut into his very soul. "I'm so sorry, Ginny. There was no other way," said Harry softly.

"I know you are," replied Ginny. "I know you didn't have a choice. You did what you had to do. I don't blame you."

Harry nodded. He knew he didn't have a choice, but that didn't change what he had put her through.

Harry knew that now was the time to tell her how he felt. Harry pulled her back from him a little and looked into her eyes. "When Voldemort was about to kill me in the forest, the last thought I had was of you, Ginny. The last thought I thought I would ever have, was of how it feels when you kiss me. I think that's what gave me the strength to come back. It gave me the strength to beat him. I love you Ginny," said Harry. "My heart is yours forever." Harry wasn't quite sure where that last part had come from, but it was the truth.

Harry could tell his declaration had caught her a little off guard, but he could already see the response in her beautiful eyes. "I love you too," said Ginny, another tear sliding down her cheek. "I've loved you for a long time, Harry." Harry reached up and brushed the tear away gently and he smiled, his fingers lingering on her cheek. He could not even describe the feeling of warmth that came over him, the feeling of love. He pulled her to him and kissed her. Harry never would have believed something as simple as a kiss could communicate so much.

The future was before him, clear as if he was watching it in a movie. Someday he would marry her. He could see it. He could see their children, and their grandchildren, the family he had always wanted and had never had, but the thought was short lived, as the fog of guilt began to roll in, and he pushed aside his thoughts of the future and just reveled in the kiss that he had craved for so long, in the memory that had saved his life, in the love he had found at last.

Harry wasn't sure how long the kiss went on. Eventually the need for oxygen overwhelmed them and they broke apart. They smiled at each other. Harry could see the love radiating from her beautiful brown eyes like a beacon of hope at the end of a cold dark tunnel. He pulled her close, hugging her tightly, burying his face in her beautiful ginger hair, and drinking in her flowery scent. They sat there for a few minutes just holding each other. He never wanted to let go.

As they sat, Harry realized how quiet it was. Surely at this time of day someone must be around, he thought. "Where is everyone?" Harry whispered in her ear.

"The party lasted a long time," replied Ginny. "Ron and Hermione left the Great Hall around 6:00 o'clock yesterday and said they were coming back to the tower. I assume they are asleep. Mum, Dad, and the rest of the family went back to The Burrow. Mum wanted me to go back too, but I told her I was staying here. I just wanted to make sure you were all right, Harry. I sat down on the couch with you. I just wanted to be near you, just for a minute. I must have fallen asleep."

"I'm glad you did," said Harry with a smile. "Where is everyone else?" There had been an awful lot of people in the Great Hall when he had left them the day before.

"I think a lot of people went home, but those who stayed were going to use Ravenclaw Tower, I think," Ginny informed him. "McGonagall thought that the three of you could use some space."

"I'll have to remember to thank her," said Harry with a smile, remembering how Luna had helped him escape the celebration yesterday. Space was just what he had needed yesterday, time away from everyone.

They sat there for a few minutes kissing when they heard someone coming down the stairs from the boys' dormitory. He and Ginny both looked toward the stairs expecting to see Ron, and were surprised to see Ron and Hermione coming down the stairs together holding hands.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, then back to Ron and Hermione with amused expressions. A suggestive smirk crept onto Ginny's face. "So what have you two been up to?" she asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously. The suggestion in her voice was so obvious, even Ron noticed.

Ron's face turned redder than his hair. It was even redder than Uncle Vernon's face when he was upset. Harry wasn't sure there was a word to describe the colour of Ron's face at that moment. Harry tried to suppress a laugh, but the grin spread across his face anyway.

"You're awful," said Hermione with a grin. "We were talking, and we…fell asleep."

"If that's your story," said Harry sarcastically, shaking his head in feigned disbelief.

Ron quickly changed the subject. "So do you guys want to come down to the Great Hall with us?" suggested Ron, as he rubbed his stomach. "I'm starving."

Harry thought for a moment of the dream he had had. He had some things he wanted to do today, and there was no sense in putting them off. "Would you guys mind waiting a minute," said Harry. Harry slid Ginny off his lap and onto the couch, immediately regretting no longer holding her. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and walked over to his two best friends.

"I need to say some things," stammered Harry, standing a few feet from them wringing his hands nervously. Somehow he didn't remember being this nervous in his dream, when the words just flowed out. It wasn't so easy doing it for real. "I don't know how I can ever thank you both for what you've done," he said with a little more confidence. "I've never told you what you mean to me."

"You don't…" began Hermione, but Harry cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Yes I do," declared Harry with conviction. "I've thought a lot lately about that day we met on the train. It seems like it was a million years ago. It's hard to believe it was only seven years ago." Harry wasn't sure exactly what to say, so he just spoke from his heart. "I've often wondered what it would have been like if my parents had lived. I think they probably would have had more children. I would have had brothers or sisters. Voldemort…he took that away." Harry paused, he knew his eyes betrayed the sadness of his statement, but he didn't care. "I grew up with my cousin Dudley who hated me. Torturing me was his favorite sport." Harry paused again, blinking back tears. "That day we met on the train…I found the brother and sister I never had. It just took me a while to realize it, and I've never said it." There was no holding back the tears now. "I love you both, and words can never express what you both mean to me."

The words were barely out of his mouth, when Hermione threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. She was crying, as if she had been waiting years to hear those words. Harry returned the hug. Ron put his arms around both of them, tears in his eyes. They stayed that way for several minutes in silent affirmation that they felt the same way, and then they pulled apart. Ginny came over and put an arm around Harry.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Harry," proclaimed Hermione as she wiped away her tears. "If it wasn't for you I might have never taken my nose out of a book long enough to know there is more to life than books." She reached out and took Ron's hand.

"Me too, mate," said Ron. He grinned. "Well…not the book part, but you know what I mean."

They all laughed. Harry thought it felt great to laugh, to really laugh. He could hardly remember a time when he could laugh without his destiny clouding the feeling.

"Why don't you all go down to the Great Hall, and I'll join you in a bit. I want to shower and change," said Harry, though he suddenly realized he would have to have Kreacher get him some clothes from The Burrow. He hadn't even remembered he didn't have anything in the dormitory.

Hermione nodded, still trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She took Ron by the hand, headed for the portrait hole.

The hot shower eased Harry's aching muscles. He felt almost normal again, but as he stood in the shower, water cascading over him, the great feeling he had when he was with Ginny started to melt away. As hot as the water was, he felt cold inside, as if the snake of despair around his heart was preparing to strike.

Harry went back to his dorm room to get dressed. Kreacher had not only brought him clothes from The Burrow, but he had neatly laid them out for him upon his old bed.

When Harry pulled on his jeans, he felt something in the pocket. He put his hand inside his pocket and pulled out a galleon. It wasn't a real galleon. It was the fake galleon Hermione had made for all the members of Dumbledore's Army. He sat on his bed and stared at it.

Harry still wanted to be an Auror, but he had to admit, he had really enjoyed teaching Dumbledore's Army. It felt somehow right to teach. He thought, perhaps someday, after he was tired of hunting Dark Wizards, perhaps he would teach.

Harry put the coin in the pouch that hung from his neck, finished dressing, and then headed for the Great Hall. Along the way, he saw just how beaten up the castle was, and wondered if it would ever be the same again. He stepped over debris, and around bloodstains. There was so much blood. He wondered if they could ever get all the stains off the floor and walls. He wondered whose blood each stain was as he walked by them, but quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.

Along the way, he bumped into Dean and Seamus, as well as Professors Slughorn and Flitwick, and thanked them all for all they had done. As he headed down the hallway towards the Great Hall, he saw Luna walking down the corridor towards him. Harry was shocked to see her dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. He was sure he had never seen Luna cry before.

"Luna, are you all right?" asked Harry as he approached her. She looked up with a start, she hadn't seen him coming.

"Oh, Harry…yes, I'm fine," said Luna, as she mustered a smile. Her voice was not quite as dreamy as it usually was. "I just got an owl from my father. He told me…how you let the Death Eaters see you before you escaped. I don't know what I would do if I lost him…too. He's all I have left. You took a terrible risk to protect him. Thank you."

Harry knew they had left out some of the details when they told Luna about their visit and narrow escape from her home. They told her they were seen, but they didn't tell her how they went out of their way to be seen.

Harry smiled. "That's what friends do for each other," replied Harry. He could see recognition in her eyes.

"You saw it then…my room, I mean," said Luna. Harry was pretty sure he had never seen Luna look nervous before.

"Yes," said Harry with a smile. "Your father isn't all you have left."

Harry hugged her, and then she headed off down the hall. He noticed she was dabbing at her eyes again.

When Harry got to the Great Hall, he stood before the doors. How many times had he walked through those doors to have a meal with his friends? How many times had he sat at the Gryffindor table and laughed with them? He couldn't think of one time, all he could see was the image of the snakelike eyes of Voldemort. All he could feel was the terror that went through him when he saw Ginny, Hermione, and Luna dueling Bellatrix Lestrange. He felt that when he opened the doors it would be happening again. Harry shook his head, and pushed the images from his mind. He took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

Harry walked over to where Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were sitting, and he sat next to Ginny, across from Ron and Hermione. As soon as he was seated, he felt better with Ginny at his side. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, which made her smile.

Lunch was wonderful. Harry didn't think he had ever eaten so much in his life, he felt like he hadn't eaten in days, which wasn't far from the truth.

They ate and talked and laughed. It was such a nice change from the stress of the past year, of most of his life really. Harry felt like he had come home, and it felt wonderful to do something as normal as eat lunch with his friends.

There were others in the Great Hall: Order members, professors, students and their families who had fought in the battle, Aurors, Ministry officials, many of whom nodded to him when they saw him, or waved, but everyone seemed to realize he needed some space, and they didn't want to intrude. Harry was very grateful for that.

"Have you given any thought to next year?" asked Hermione before she took a sip of pumpkin juice.

Harry hadn't even thought about it. He had been so focused on what he had to do. He couldn't look at anything beyond it. "No, I haven't," said Harry. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming.

"Well, we should see if we can do our seventh year and take our N.E.W.T.s," remarked Hermione.

"Are you serious?" blurted Ron, a look of disbelief on his face. "Harry just saved the world, and you're thinking about tests."

Harry suppressed a grin. They would never change.

"Yes I am," replied Hermione, a touch of annoyance in her voice. "Whatever you decide to do with the rest of your lives, you may regret it if you don't take your N.E.W.T.s. I am planning to ask Professor McGonagall if we can come back next year."

The rest of our lives, Harry thought. He liked the sound of that. Five simple words, but they meant so much to him.

"You know," began Ginny, "I still have another year." Harry saw the thoughtful look on her face that seemed to say, 'what ever shall we do?'

Harry grinned from ear to ear. He wouldn't just be coming back for his last year at Hogwarts. He would be coming back with Ginny for a glorious year as just a student who could go to class and spend time with his friends. He could spend time with Ginny. How perfectly normal and boring it would all be. Harry couldn't wait.

Hermione knew what he was thinking before he could open his mouth. "I guess I can count you in, Harry," Hermione said with a smirk. "I'm certainly coming back if I can." Harry knew exactly where this was going. Hermione turned to Ron. "What about you?"

"Well, I don't know," said Ron with a frown. The look on his face showed how torn he was. "I'll have to think about it."

"All right, well, if you don't, then I'll write to you. Maybe we can see each other at Christmas," said Hermione without a hint of annoyance or anger. Her tone was almost too even and calm. Harry was pretty sure she was seething inside.

"Hermione, it's not that I don't want to come back with you, I was just thinking." He paused. "I was thinking I might help George with the store," whimpered Ron, looking down at the table. Harry saw Ginny out of the corner of his eye. She looked like she was going to cry. He put his arm around her and hugged her close, but he didn't say anything. At that moment, Harry didn't trust his voice.

Hermione gasped and put her hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Ron," she said breathlessly. She seemed to be searching for what to say, her mouth open, but no words came out, a look of horror on her face, and unshed tears in her eyes.

"It's all right," said Ron mustering a reassuring smile. "I really do want to come back with you, Hermione, but I doubt I would be allowed to leave school to go work at the store." Ron put his arm around Hermione and kissed her on the cheek.

"I was planning on seeing Professor McGonagall today anyway, let me talk to her, I'll see if we can work something out," said Harry, his voice returning to him.

"So what are your plans now?" asked Harry after they had talked a while longer. He hadn't even thought of the fact he had no home anymore. He was never returning to Privet Drive, and he had half expected he would never need a home. He couldn't bring himself to stay at Grimmauld Place.

"The school will be closed for two weeks," Ginny informed them. "They will repair the castle then, and then we will finish out the term. In the meantime, Mum said we should all come back to The Burrow. The funeral for Fred, Tonks, and Remus will be tomorrow." Ginny's voice was soft, as she tried not to betray the pain of those words. Ron and Hermione nodded.

"It's so horrible," said Hermione, as she shook her head sadly. "Poor little Teddy left without parents…Fred gone…and poor Colin…" Hermione closed her eyes, unable to speak, as Ron put his arms around her and tears leaked out from under her eyelids. "It's so horrible."

The funerals. Harry was enjoying being with his friends so much, he hadn't even thought about the funerals. He didn't want to think about them.

"Tell you what," said Harry. "Why don't the three of you head to The Burrow, and I'll be there tonight. I want to see Professor McGonagall, and I have a few other things I need to do," sighed Harry.

"I can keep you company if you want," said Ginny, a look of concern in her eyes.

"If it's all right, I have a few things I'd really like to take care of alone," replied Harry. He would not have minded having Ginny with him for most of what he had to do. In fact, the thought of not being near her, even for a little while, bothered him. It would only be for a few hours, yet it felt like it would be an eternity. There was one thing he knew he did have to do alone.

"Sure," said Ginny, looking a little disappointed. Harry leaned over and kissed her deeply, not caring that Ron was right across the table.

"More heartfelt declarations to make?" asked Ron with a grin.

Hermione hit him in the shoulder, and glared daggers at him.

"Ease up, Hermione," said Ron in surprise. "He knows I'm only joking."

Harry smiled. Some things will never change, he thought. "Not exactly, Ron. No heart felt declarations. At least…" Harry swallowed hard, "…not until tonight," said Harry letting out a slow breath. He wasn't looking forward to tonight.

Harry was about to get up, when an owl swooped down and landed in front of him, holding out its leg. Harry untied the letter, and the owl flew off. Harry couldn't help but think of Hedwig.

"Who's it from?" asked Ron, as Harry opened the letter.

Harry read the letter. "It's from," Harry paused, "Tonks' mother. I sent her an owl yesterday. She says your Mum invited her and Teddy to stay at The Burrow for a while. She said she would be there after the funeral." Harry sighed, he wanted to see Teddy, but he couldn't deny every time he thought of him, not even a year old, and both his parents gone, he felt a surge of guilt, like a storm front bearing down on him, and sadness so strong, he thought it would drown him.

Harry got up from the table. "I'll see you all tonight," smiled Harry. He gave Ginny a kiss on the cheek, and headed out of the Great Hall.

As he walked away, nearly out of earshot, he heard Ginny say, "Hermione…Harry told me he loved me." The joy in Ginny's voice was unmistakable, and brought a smile to Harry's face. If that was all it took to make her so happy, he would be sure to tell her he loved her as often as possible.

Harry got to the door of the Headmistress's Office and stopped. He stared at the griffin shaped knocker. The thoughts of all the times he had been in this office over the years flooded through his mind. All the talks he had with Professor Dumbledore, even the unpleasant ones, like the night that Sirius died. All the things he had learned in this room, about his parents, about Voldemort, about himself.

All the time he had spent with Dumbledore flashed through his mind. He would have liked more time with Dumbledore, much more. He could almost picture himself knocking on the door, hearing Dumbledore's voice telling him to come in, and pushing open the door to see him sitting behind his desk smiling, his half moon spectacles slightly askew on his crooked nose, with his bright blue eyes behind the lenses.

Harry shook off the thought. He knocked on the door, and heard Professor McGonagall respond. "Come in," came her voice from the other side of the door.

Harry entered the office, closing the door behind him. "Potter," she said when she saw him. "What can I do for you?" inquired Professor McGonagall, motioning him to the familiar seat in front of the desk. Professor Dumbledore was sleeping in his portrait.

Harry started to open his mouth, but he stopped. He couldn't help but think how odd it was for anyone other than Dumbledore to be sitting behind that desk.

"Is everything all right, Harry?" asked Professor McGonagall concernedly.

"Yes," said Harry shaking himself out of his fog. "I'm just not used to seeing anyone other than Professor Dumbledore sitting behind that desk."

McGonagall smiled at him. It was a sad smile. He could see the sympathy in her eyes. "I know what you mean, Harry. This is not the view of this office I'm used to either," said Professor McGonagall with a sigh. "I miss him too."

Harry looked down at the floor. It was hard enough to think about Professor Dumbledore, but to talk about him was even worse.

"If Albus were here, he would be very proud of you," Professor McGonagall informed him, glancing over her shoulder at the portrait of the late Headmaster. Dumbledore was still asleep in his portrait. She looked back to Harry. "I talk with the portrait, but it just isn't quite the same." She paused. "I…I miss my friend."

Harry was a little taken aback by her candor. She seemed so stern and maybe a little cold most of the time. He knew she cared. There were times he had seen it in her eyes. It was just the facade she had built up to deal with students over the years that made her seem unapproachable.

"I know what you mean," said Harry. He knew when he was talking to the portrait that its replies were genuinely what Albus Dumbledore would say if he were here, but she was right. It just wasn't quite the same.

"I don't know if you know this, but I was there, on Privet Drive that night," said Professor McGonagall. "I met Albus there, and waited for Hagrid to arrive with you."

"I didn't know that," said Harry. He never really knew the details of that night beyond the obvious that he was left on the Dursleys' doorstep.

"Albus was right. It was the safest place for you. I know he hated to do it," sighed Professor McGonagall. "Even then, he cared for you very much."

Harry thought it best that he get to business, he didn't really like being in this office now that Dumbledore was gone, and although he knew Professor McGonagall was trying to comfort him, every word only seemed to fuel the despair raging inside him.

It's going to be a difficult day, Harry thought. No. It was going to be a difficult life. It had been a year since Dumbledore's death, but losing Dumbledore was still as painful as the day he fell from the Astronomy Tower. Would it ever get any easier? Harry didn't think so.

"I came for a few different reasons," began Harry, changing the subject. "First, I noticed when I came up here yesterday that there is no portrait of Snape."

"I believe that is because he abandoned his post," said Professor McGonagall. Harry was about to say something, but Professor McGonagall put up her hand. "However, in light of what you have told us, I will see what we can do to rectify that. He was acting on Professor Dumbledore's orders after all."

"Thank you," said Harry with a nod. He took a deep breath. "Have arrangements been made for Snape's funeral?"

"The Order will be burying him tomorrow morning," said Professor McGonagall. "They are not having a service, and have suggested everyone stay away. He is still widely believed to be a murderer and a Death Eater, and with all that's going on, it will only raise more questions if a lot of people attend his funeral. Kingsley is trying to handle everything without causing any public outcry. Also…I found a note in Professor Snape's desk which says he wanted nothing fancy should anything happen to him." She paused. "I think he knew he wouldn't survive. In hindsight, I think he always knew he would meet his end sooner rather than later."

Harry nodded. He was sure Snape would not have asked for anything. "If that was his wish, then it should be honored," said Harry.

"Oh, that reminds me," piped Professor McGonagall. She reached into the drawer of her desk and took out a sheet of parchment and a torn photograph. "I found these in Professor Snape's desk as well. I thought you would like to have them."

Harry reached out and took the parchment and torn photograph. It was the second page of his mother's letter and the second half of the photograph Snape had found and torn in Sirius' bedroom. He slipped the torn photograph into the pouch hanging around his neck. He would repair it later. He looked at the words on the paper, 'Lots of love, Lily.' Part of him wanted to keep it; after all, he had nothing else baring his mother's signature.

"Could you have this placed in Snape's casket?" asked Harry. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows, but nodded. He handed her the sheet of parchment.

"I heard the school will be repaired in two weeks, is that correct?" asked Harry, getting on to his next piece of business.

"Yes, we need to get end of year exams, O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s completed for this year," replied Professor McGonagall. The look on her face told Harry she knew where he was going with this question.

"Would it be possible for Ron, Hermione, and I to come back for our seventh year next year?" asked Harry.

"Normally, it would not. However, as many students did not return this year, as they went into hiding, if students wish to push back their graduation a year, they can return and pick up where they left off. I take it you plan to return then?"

"Hermione and I do. I don't know what Hermione would do if she couldn't take her N.E.W.T.s," said Harry with a grin, and saw the faintest smile appear on Professor McGonagall's face. Harry wasn't sure how to approach Ron's predicament.

"And what about Mr. Weasley?" inquired Professor McGonagall.

"He wants to return, however, he wants to help George with the store," said Harry. He could see the change of her expression.

"Of course," said Professor McGonagall softly. "Under the circumstances, I'm sure we can arrange a fireplace that will allow him to Floo to the shop. He'll have to juggle the schedule with his classes, but I trust he can do that, and not abuse his Floo privileges."

"I'm sure that will not be a problem," said Harry. Harry took a deep breath. He had been putting this off as long as possible.

"Something else?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," replied Harry. "I've been told that no one has gone near Professor Dumbledore's tomb since Voldemort broke it open to steal Professor Dumbledore's wand."

She looked slightly ill all of a sudden. "To my eternal shame, no," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry looked at her quizzically.

"Professor Snape forbade anyone from going anywhere near the tomb or the body," said Professor McGonagall. "I did cast a spell to protect him from the weather," she sighed, "but I left him there. I suppose now, knowing what was going on, that Professor Snape's order had something to do with Albus' wand."

Harry put his hand on his robe, where he could feel his own wand as well as the Elder Wand in the pocket. "I assume so," said Harry.

"Still, I feel I should have done something more," said Professor McGonagall. "Just leaving him lying there…"

"I will take care of him. I need to put his wand back where it belongs," said Harry. Harry knew Professor Dumbledore wouldn't want her feeling bad, so he wanted to change the subject.

Professor McGonagall nodded.

Harry stood up, as did Professor McGonagall, but didn't move.

"Something else?" asked Professor McGonagall, raising an eyebrow.

"I just wanted to thank you," grinned Harry. "I could not have been the easiest student to have. I broke a rule here and there. A few rules probably." Harry tried to suppress a smile, but didn't quite manage it.

"I seem to recall more than a few," said Professor McGonagall with a smile. "I guess I figured under the circumstances, you deserved a little leeway." She paused. "But if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it."

Harry smiled. She wasn't quite as stern as she made everyone believe she was. Harry walked around her desk without a word, and hugged her. For a moment, she seemed surprised, but she returned the embrace warmly.

"You know you can always come to me if you need anything, Harry," said Professor McGonagall with a smile. "If you need to talk about anything, I'm always here."

Harry smiled. "I know," said Harry. "That's what friends are for."

Harry took a slow walk around the castle, running into a lot of people he knew along the way, stopping to thank them for everything they had done. As hard as he tried not to, he felt more depressed with each passing minute. He couldn't help but think of the dead, as he walked around the castle, which was the battlefield on which they died. He walked down to the green houses. He was hoping to run into Neville, and sure enough, Neville was alone in one of the greenhouses, cleaning up the mess that the battle had caused.

"Hi, Neville," said Harry as he walked into the green house.

"Harry!" exclaimed Neville as he popped up from behind a bench he was bending over. In the process, he knocked a pot off the edge of the bench, and it crashed to the floor, smashing into pieces.

"Sorry," groaned Harry. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Don't worry about it. Everything else in here is broken anyway," sighed Neville. "It could be worse, I suppose."

Harry and Neville had both lost their parents when they were babies, albeit in different ways. Harry felt that connection to Neville. He had ever since he found out what happened to Neville's parents.

"Neville, I wanted to thank you for everything you did this past year. It means a lot to me that you would go through that. You've been a good friend," said Harry.

"I didn't do anything," said Neville shaking his head. "You would have done the same for me. Besides, what you did was a lot more important than anything I did."

Harry smiled. "That's funny," began Harry, "I wasn't the one who charged Voldemort, then said…what was it you said to him?"

Neville blushed slightly. "I'll join you when hell freezes over," Neville reminded him with a slight grin. "Or something like that."

Harry smiled. "Neville, I want you to make me a promise," said Harry.

"Anything for you, Harry," said Neville without hesitation. "You know that."

"I want you to tell your parents about everything you did this year. Tell them how you led the student rebellion against the Carrows. Tell them how you confronted Voldemort and killed Nagini," said Harry. "Tell them all of it."

Neville looked dumbstruck. "Harry," he said slowly, a pained look on his face. "They don't understand anything I say to them."

"They may not understand the words, Neville, but I think they will understand that their son is a hero, and they will be proud of you. Even if they can't say it," noted Harry.

"I'm no hero, Harry, not like you," said Neville looking towards the ground.

Harry chuckled, and thought for a moment about what Neville had said. Harry certainly didn't consider himself a hero, but he knew a lot of people did.

"I'm no hero. I just did what I had to do. I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice. It wasn't up to me. You had a choice, Neville. You could have done what you were told and stayed clear of the Carrows. You could have stayed back, and not gone near Voldemort. You are a hero, and showed the bravery of a true Gryffindor. Only a true Gryffindor can pull the sword from the Sorting Hat," said Harry. When he said those last words about the sword, it was the voice of Albus Dumbledore echoing them in his mind. It seemed so long ago that Dumbledore had said the same thing to him.

"Harry, can you honestly say that if you had a choice, you would not have gotten involved?" asked Neville. "And I would remind you, I'm not the only one standing here who has pulled the sword from the Sorting Hat."

"How do you know that?" asked Harry. He didn't think he had told anyone but Ron and Hermione the specifics of what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. He knew it had gotten around years ago that he had killed the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. Then, before Neville even replied, Harry knew the answer. There was one other person he had told. How could he have forgotten?

"Ginny told me," smiled Neville, "on the night of the Yule Ball. You were all she could talk about when we weren't dancing. But I'm not letting you change the subject. You would have gotten involved, even if you didn't have to, and you know it. It's who you are."

Harry paused. He wasn't sure what to say. Would he have gotten involved? If Voldemort had nothing to do with him or his parents, and he had found out about the Sorcerer's Stone all those years ago, would he have tried to stop him? "I guess I'll never know," said Harry.

Neville smiled. "I know you would have, Harry."

"Thanks," said Harry, deciding to change the subject. "What are you going to do next year?"

At this question, Neville smiled broadly. "Professor Sprout has offered me an assistant position, I'll be assisting her with classes next year," said Neville cheerfully. "As long as I get an O on my Herbology N.E.W.T."

"Please tell me I won't have to call you Professor," drawled Harry jokingly.

"Are you coming back next year?!" exclaimed Neville, an excited tone to his voice.

"Yes, Ron, Hermione, and I will all be back," said Harry.

"That's great," said Neville. "It'll be like old times."

Harry grinned. Considering what old times had been like, he would prefer things be a little different. "Can we have old times without the dragons, snakes, and three headed dogs?" asked Harry.

Neville laughed. After a moment, Neville's expression changed. Harry couldn't quite read what it was. "Harry, can I ask you something?" asked Neville, timidly.

"Anything," Harry replied.

"Does it make you feel better?" asked Neville.

"Does what make me feel better?" asked Harry. He wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"Knowing Voldemort is dead. He killed your parents," said Neville softly. "Do you feel better now that he is dead? I thought I would feel better when Bellatrix Lestrange was dead." Neville paused. "I don't feel any better at all."

Harry thought a moment. The same thoughts that went through his mind the previous afternoon came back. He wondered for a moment, why didn't it make him feel better that Voldemort was dead, but Harry already knew the answer. He could see it on Neville's face. Why he hadn't realized it already, he wasn't sure.

"Their deaths don't bring back the people we love," whispered Harry, a tear escaping his eye.

Neville walked over to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. "I guess you're right, it doesn't bring them back," said Neville. They hugged each other.

Harry walked to the door, and looked back to Neville before he left and said, "See you next year, Professor Longbottom."

Neville grinned. "Hurry along, or you'll be late for class," said Neville with a laugh. "And Harry…I will tell them."

Harry headed toward the forbidden forest, towards the small cabin that he had visited so many times during his years at Hogwarts. The unmistakable evidence of the battle was everywhere, and it was doing nothing for the depression that was settling over him. He stopped for a moment, and turned to look at the castle. He knew the damage would be repaired. Nothing would ever destroy Hogwarts. That was a comforting thought.

As he gazed up at the castle, he could see the hole in the wall on the seventh floor where Fred had died. Fred didn't deserve that, but then neither did any of the others who had lost their lives fighting for his cause.

The hole looked almost insignificant compared to the rest of the damage to Hogwarts. It was seemed so small, dwarfed by the castle itself. Yet, for something that seemed small, in the moment it was formed, it had created a much larger whole in the lives of so many people. Harry knew nothing could fill that hole.

When Harry reached the edge of the forest, he found Hagrid sitting outside his house, just enjoying the afternoon. He was drinking from a bucket sized mug, which Harry was sure contained Firewhiskey. Harry couldn't blame him for trying to dull the pain.

"Harry," shouted Hagrid when he saw him coming towards him. Hagrid was grinning from ear to ear. "It's good to see you. I bet you're glad to get away from the crowds for a while."

"Hi, Hagrid," replied Harry cheerfully, trying not to betray everything swirling around in his heart and mind. "Yeah, it's nice not to be handed around like a rag doll."

"Would you like to come in for a spot of tea?" asked Hagrid, glancing into his mug. "Perhaps something a little stronger than tea. I just baked some rock cakes."

"I really can't, Hagrid," said Harry. As much as he would have loved to spend some time with Hagrid, he didn't have time, or the extra teeth to lose to the rock cakes. "I'm supposed to go to The Burrow, and I have one more stop to make before I leave. I just…I just wanted to apologize to you."

"What for?" queried Hagrid, a confused look on his face. "What do you have to apologize for?"

Harry took a breath. "I can't imagine what it felt like for you to watch what happened in the forest." Hagrid's face darkened and he stared at the ground. Hagrid watched Harry die in the forest then had to carry him back to the castle, not knowing Harry was only playing dead. Harry felt like it might have been the cruelest thing he had ever done to anyone.

Hagrid shook his head slowly, looking up at Harry. "You have nothing to apologize for, Harry," said Hagrid. "I would be lying if I didn't say it was the most horrible thing I've ever seen in my life." Hagrid paused. "It was even worse…than the night Professor Dumbledore died. Harry, it wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do." Hagrid paused for a moment. "And you're not dead, you're still here, that's all that matters to me."

Harry still felt terrible about what he put him through, but he knew Hagrid meant what he said. All that mattered to Hagrid was that Harry was alive.

"Well, I've got to get going. I'm coming back next year, so I'll see you in September," said Harry.

"That's great, Harry," smiled Hagrid. "I'll look forward to it."

Harry hugged Hagrid, at least as much as he could since he still couldn't get his arms around him. "Thanks for everything Hagrid, I couldn't have done it without you," said Harry.

Hagrid looked like he was about to cry, but he cleared his throat and said, "You better get going, it's getting late."

Harry smiled. "Say hello to Grawp and Buckbeak for me," said Harry. He turned and headed for his last stop; for the stop he had been putting off all afternoon.

Harry made his way down to the lake. As he walked, he was simultaneously trying to decide what exactly he had come for, whilst also trying not to think about it. At that moment, thinking about going to The Burrow, as hard as that would be seemed an easier thought.

Harry looked on the place where the tomb of Albus Dumbledore lay, broken open as if a giant fist had landed a blow upon it, shattering it into pieces. The sight was awful: Dumbledore's body, still mostly wrapped in purple velvet with bright gold stars, lay beside the tomb. Harry could see the sun glinting off the half moon spectacles, which just peeked out from beneath the purple velvet. Harry was thankful it prevented him from seeing Dumbledore's face. Harry had tried to remember Dumbledore as he had lived, but it seemed the sight of his broken body in the grass at the foot of the Astronomy Tower was the one that came to him most often.

The sun was setting, and the broken marble reflected the sun harshly into Harry's eyes. Perhaps it was trying to prevent him from seeing the terrible site before him. The lake seemed to glow orange, red, and yellow. It was hard to see how beautiful the sunset was through the sight before him.

Harry just stared at the scene for a few moments, his eyes half closed against the sun. He pulled out his wand, as well as the Elder Wand from the pocket of his robes. He took one last look at the Elder Wand. He thought of all the trouble it had caused. The Wand of Destiny, the Death Stick, the Elder Wand, whatever it was called, Harry couldn't fathom how many had died at the hands of those who wielded it.

Using his own wand, he levitated the Elder Wand back to where it belonged, between the folded hands of the man who should have been its last true master. Harry replaced the wrappings as they had been the day of the funeral, and levitated the body of his mentor back into the tomb. He quickly repaired the tomb with a flick of his wand. The gleaming marble, now restored, shined even more brightly in the sunset than the lake beyond it, as if to make sure that all who saw it knew that a great man lay entombed beneath.

Harry stood there for a minute, contemplating all that had happened. Then he walked up, just a few feet away from the glistening marble, and spoke aloud. "It's done sir. The Elder Wand is back where it belongs," said Harry. He paused, as he blinked back tears. It was as if speaking had broken what little hold he had on his emotions.

"With any luck, I'll die an old man and the power of the Elder Wand will be destroyed," said Harry. "That was your plan…I'll try to carry it out."

There was so much Harry wanted to say, and even though Dumbledore was gone, it felt right he do it here and now. He could have said it to the portrait in the office, but the portrait wasn't really Albus Dumbledore.

"I've thought a lot today about the talk we had at King's Cross," said Harry softly. "Truth be told, today I've probably thought of every conversation we've ever had. You were right, professor. You weren't perfect. I'm certainly not perfect. I don't think anyone is. We all make mistakes, and can only hope we have the chance to rectify them. Some mistakes can't be rectified."

Harry thought of Ariana and of Sirius. Harry still blamed himself for Sirius' death, though he still had a familiar pang in his chest when he thought about all that Dumbledore hadn't told him. Harry had forgiven him, but that familiar twinge was still there.

"We paid a terrible cost for our mistakes, perhaps the highest cost anyone can pay," said Harry slowly. "I think maybe it's how you live with those mistakes that matters most. You once said to me that it was important to fight and fight again and keep fighting. I plan to become an Auror and do just that." Harry grinned as he blinked back his unshed tears. "If they will have me, of course."

"I am proud to have known you sir," Harry continued. "I just wish I had gotten to know you better, but maybe someday, when it's my turn to…embark on the next great adventure, I'll have the chance to ask you all the questions I never did."

Harry took a deep breath. "I'll never forget all you did for me, and all you taught me," he said. "Not just about magic, but about life. You weren't just the Headmaster of my school. You were my mentor…and you were my friend." Harry paused, as a tear he could no longer hold back trickled down his cheek. "I'll always be 'Dumbledore's Man', and proud of it."

"I want to apologize for not taking your word that Snape…sorry…Professor Snape…was on our side," Harry added. "I should have had more faith in you. I am not going to pretend the complete and total loathing he showed me over the years didn't give me good reason not to trust him, and I didn't do anything to deserve it," he paused, "at least not at first. Still, I know my father was…cruel to him, and that he took my mother away from him. I guess while I didn't deserve to be treated that way by Professor Snape, I can understand how he felt. It couldn't have been easy to look at me and see the man he hated, and the women he loved in my eyes."

Harry reached into the pocket of his jeans and removed the fake galleon that was carried by all the members of Dumbledore's Army. "You know…after Umbridge left, we should have given you one of these," said Harry, as he tried to dry his now tear streaked face with the back of his hand. Harry walked right up to the tomb and placed the shiny gold galleon upon the tomb. Harry placed his hand flat on top of the tomb beside the galleon.

"I'm coming back in September to do my seventh year," said Harry. He smiled. "Somehow I think you would be very happy with that. Professor McGonagall said…you would be very proud of me if you were here. When we talked, after Voldemort tried to kill me, I know you said you were proud of me. I'll keep trying to make you proud of me, Professor." Harry smiled, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "I'll try not to disappoint you."

With that Harry turned and headed for the castle gates so he could Apperate to The Burrow. When he was about twenty feet away from the tomb, something happened. Harry would not forget it for the rest of his life, and for a long time he was not sure if he had imagined it or not. He could swear he heard the voice of Albus Dumbledore say, "You never could, Harry."

As Harry turned around, for a split second, he thought he saw him standing there in front of the tomb smiling at him, his half moon spectacles slightly askew upon his crooked nose, his blue eyes glistening behind them in the sunset. It was only an instant, and then he was gone, if he was even there at all. Even though Dumbledore was not there, Harry wasn't alone. Perched on top of the glistening marble tomb was a familiar bird with bright scarlet and gold feathers, the galleon held securely in its beak.

"Fawkes," said Harry in surprise. Dumbledore's loyal phoenix had not been seen since the night Dumbledore fell from the Astronomy Tower. Before Harry had even finished the thought, Fawkes rose into the air and flew gracefully over the lake and over the forest on the opposite bank. Harry watched him fly away, until he became just a golden speck in the bright blue sky.