This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Harry Potter and the Essence of Revenge.

By T. Gibson.

2008.

Ah! Black as Jet, but long ago
In dignity and lace,
The ladies wore around their necks
A flash of ebon grace.
But oh! To-day Great Broughton mourns
Still waves the merry corn,
The beer flows at Jet Miners' Inn,
But jet's no longer worn.
Still, fashions change, mayhap some day
Again the craft will thrive,
And Yorkshire Jet will ring the earth,
Black, flashing and alive.

A Poem by an anonymous traveller who left it on a table in the Jet Miners Arms Pub at Great Broughton Yorkshire and never returned for it. My thanks to this traveller for his message of hope, which was another inspiration for this story.

Chapter 1.

Ginny.

The sun was gently breaking over the mountains, along a path it had followed for millennia to peep over, then rise steadily above those heather clad peaks of rock. It's warming early summer light dispersing the dark of night, gently kissed the roof of one of the tallest towers of the ancient castle that lay in the valley. Its light with natural ease swept away the last of the darkness, as those within the stone walls it's rays slowly spread over had swept back the darkness in their world, it broke over peace. Yesterday that same fire ball had risen over the immediate aftermath of war, over a scarred landscape around the grey stone structure, heavily damaged by the attacks it had suffered. The small star's life giving light had fallen over those injured who awaited help and the temporarily abandoned remains of the victims of the conflict. It had witnessed the very end of a war, as it's light had passed through a window in the hall of that great building, it had illuminated the demise of one who had gone further towards immortality than any of his kind had before. His death, caused by the actions of a teenager, a boy he himself had marked as his equal, all because of an obtuse prophesy which he, in his insecurity and need to be unopposed, had chosen to believe. It had shone over the beginnings of the celebrations of those below, the start of tidying the inevitable residue of the fighting and the emergent fresh shoots of the beginnings of recovery and rebuilding from the destruction, the outset of healing both the living and the buildings themselves. Yesterday it had shone over the relative buzz of human activity in the castle and grounds as the occupants became a hive of activity preparing for peace after the victory of the boy. Today there was peace in the battle ravaged and scarred grounds, even the forest surrounding the battered, but still proud, building was far from unscathed. The bodies of those killed and the injured had now been removed from the lawns, but there had been little other movement outside since. The lawns remained deeply scarred with wide gouges of earth cut into the lush green turf, in places it looked as if giant handfuls of earth had been scooped up, while in front of the steps to the entrance the ground was churned by footfall. Inside the castle the survivors tended the wounded, had secured the captured, gathered their wits and rested within the thick stone walls. Only the dead had departed.

The light of the sun spread over the grey stone tiles on the roof of the tower, across its pinnacles and slowly crept down its walls as it rose higher, illuminating the brightly coloured lichens and mosses clinging to the tiles, wakening the roosting birds in their nests and on perches. Soon, it was reflecting from and refracting through the glass of the windows in the walls, to scatter evenly over the stone slabs and red rugs on the floor of the seventh year boys dormitory within. An imperfection in the glass of one pane formed a rough prism, causing a rainbow of colours to be cast on the stone floor next to the rug, a familiar sign to generations of those who had occupied the room that the day was dawning bright and clear. The warming, life giving power, seeming to recognise not just a new day, but a new beginning, the first day that the darkness which had cast its shadow over the world for so long was, at last, gone. The boys laid in the four-poster beds arranged around the circumference of the circular dormitory, gently stirred from their slumber, unaware that someone who had watched over one of them all the previous day and through the night had just left the room when the sun had appeared over the mountains moments before.

The first of the boys to fully awaken was a tall, thin, scruffy haired, muscular, but dirty, bloodied and scarred youth, who more than any of them was used to rising early, thanks to the relatives he had lived with for most of his life so far. When he had entered the room, he had no idea how long before, he had been far too exhausted to care about his appearance, so had quickly eaten a snack brought to him and his friends by his inherited House Elf, then fallen gratefully into the bed. He automatically reached out an arm covered with cuts, burns, scratches, scars and bruises, much like the rest of his body, to pick up his wire framed glasses from atop the bedside cabinet. The spectacles were, surprisingly, undamaged in the battle, which was remarkable I itself, especially considering the role this boy had taken in the events of the last days, weeks and months. Not to mention how regularly one of his best friends had needed to repair them for him over the years, at least until he had mastered the spell himself. He gingerly placed them on his injured face, carefully avoiding the cuts and bruises on his face, then glanced round the room as it came into focus.

Despite spending the last few weeks in the comfort of Shell Cottage, he was still slightly surprised to awake in such comfortable surroundings, it took him a moment to remember exactly where he was and that his quest was over, his predestined journey fulfilled. For the last few months, since late last summer, he had become so used to waking under the canvas of a wizards tent, which was admittedly much more comfortable than a Muggle one, yet it was still certainly not a house. He and his two closest friends had roamed the country for months over the Autumn, Winter and early Spring, evading capture and searching. Searching for what was needed to fulfil his mission, that had become their quest. It had been far from easy, one had succumbed briefly to the influence of one of the dark objects they were seeking before they could destroy it, but had returned to them as they continued the search. Then, almost suddenly, in a thirty six hour period, that felt like it had been much longer, but passed so quickly, ending at the dawn before this one, they had broken into Gringotts, the supposedly impregnable Wizarding bank. Despite betrayal by the one who had got them past the security and into the bank, they had broken back out again, having retrieved what they needed to help complete the task. Ridden a blind dragon for almost the length of the country, before travelling to this very castle where he, alone, had defeated the most powerful dark Wizard ever born. So perhaps he could be forgiven for his momentary lapse, not knowing how long it had been since they had retreated to the dorm, as well as for sleeping for so long. Goodness knew, he would readily forgive any of those who had helped him before that final fight, for doing similar, he was simply relieved it was over.

The victory that they had gained had been hard won, at a heavy cost, to both sides. It all seemed to him like a particularly vivid dream as he looked round the familiar room, hearing the familiar noises of his room-mates slow rise from slumber to complete wakefulness, it seemed almost impossible that it had all happened at all. The surrealism of his memory seemed more incredible, especially waking in this familiar room that, throughout it all, had remained unchanged. He knew, though, that his recollections were reality and that despite the familiarity of this room, his world, this world, had changed and would have to change further. It couldn't help but, to have done so. He hoped it would be for the better, time would tell if the opportunity to improve things would be taken, or if like the last time he had defeated this particular dark lord, the opportunity would be wasted. If it was, then it all would have been for nothing and this society would fall back to eventually have this same fight for a third time. If this chance was not taken, then he could see the British magical community dying completely.

He had slept soundly, for the first time he could remember doing for many months. The moment he had managed to escape the attention of those celebrating his victory, he had made his way automatically to this room. He had entered this tower shortly after leaving the headmaster's office, neatly avoiding the continued hero worship of him from the well meaning crowds holding a party in honour of the end of the oppression of the Dark Lord in the Great Hall. He didn't want to celebrate anyway, he had been too exhausted for that. There was only one person he yearned to be with, but finding her at that moment would have meant facing the jubilant mob, or her grieving family. He had been far too tired to face either situation, so he had taken the easy way out and come up here, feeling selfish for doing so, but to exhausted to change his mind. His two companions of the adventures of the last seven years were with him, he had hardly noticed as they had led him, worriedly, up to their old dormitory. They had been awake as long as he had, had fought in the battle, experienced the emotional roller coaster of the victory, but they knew their friend was physically and emotionally spent. Food had arrived for them, sandwiches, he guessed it had been brought by his house elf, who he had inherited from his God father. He could not recall if he had eaten any of them though, he had been that dog tired at the time.

He sat up in the bed, nursing the aches and pains that told him his body was still protesting about the treatment it had received during the battle. After all he might have been hit with it twice in his life now, but even for him it wasn't every day that he was hit by the killing curse and survived, he certainly didn't want it to happen a third time. That was just one of the spells he had been attacked with of course, he had also been flung round like a rag doll and received wounds dodging spells as well as directly from them. He was still alive though, refreshed after his rest, free for the first time to live his life as he wanted, not dictated by others. He wondered about his time apparently with Dumbledore, after Voldemort had hit him with the killing curse for the second time in his life. Thanks to a part of Riddles soul being lodged in him from his first survival of the curse cast by the same man, he had survived it. He knew he had been lucky, the battle here at Hogwarts had been in two waves, before it had resumed he had seen the lines of bodies, both of Death Eaters and those who fought on the same side as he had, laid out in the Great Hall of the castle during the truce between the two halves of the fight. They had all come here because his search had led him here and Voldemort had known he was here, in a place he could easily be attacked. Those who fought with him had chosen to fight not for him, but alongside him. They fought and died for what they believed in, to prevent others dying and stop the spread of oppression in its tracks. Knowing that, didn't make the losses any easier for him to bare, nor did it lessen his feelings of guilt for those deaths. He was hardened by his life and the war, but not inhuman by any means, he had survived where others had not, he had a duty to them now, to see that what they had died for was fulfilled. Perhaps selfishly, he hoped that he would not have to face this, or the celebrants and press, alone.

He had no true family left in the magical world, at least none that had lived long enough to fight in that final battle. The Dursley's didn't count as family, not even in the Muggle world, so he had none to lose during the fight. That didn't mean he hadn't lost people he cared for deeply, or who he regarded as close as family should be in the battle, he most certainly had. His old teacher and friend, Remus Lupin and his wife Nymphadora Lupin other wise known simply as Tonks, both killed only a few weeks after the birth of their first child, their only son, for example. Fred Weasley and Colin Creevey were two others he was close to who had been killed in the battle. These deaths had hit Harry hard and personally, but they were neither his first nor his only losses since last July, when he had been evacuated from Privet Drive, to the Weasley's home via Tonk's parents house. He momentarily wondered if the Motor Bike had been retrieved from where it had crashed, next to the pond in the Tonk's garden, but his thoughts just as quickly returned to the here and now. He didn't even know if they would be the last of his friends to die, he knew that amongst the survivors there were many badly injured people, the question was still bound to be not if any would die, but how many of them would not survive their wounds. They may have won the fight, defeated oppression, gained peace, but it was at a heavy price and the work to rebuild was only just beginning. He sat in the bed, staring at the hangings, drawn back to the four corner posts of the bed, he wondered what they all would expect of him now, he just wanted to be allowed to recover and try to rebuild his life just as they would, then felt guilty for the thought. The sight of the curtains reminded him how tired he must have been however long ago it had been, to exhausted to even draw them round the bed for privacy. He saw that the others in the room had not drawn theirs either, it was a change to the habit they had all followed since they had started school here. He was surprised at the change, the realisation bringing him from his thoughts, fears and hopes, back to the present.

Slowly, as the sunlight steadily brightened and began warming the room, he continued to think about what he wanted to do and feared he would be expected to do. He realised that he must have slept for the whole of the day and night following the battle, though admittedly it had been quite a while after he had cast the spell that had given them the actual victory when he had been able to get to bed. He added the twinge of guilt of his long rest, to his feelings about the dead, he was anxious of returning to his world, he knew that he would be treated as a hero by most. Not that he wanted that attention, nor did he think it deserved for that matter, but he knew it was inevitable, just as it had been since he had entered this world. Could that really be only seven years ago? So much seemed to have happened in his life since then, which had all led to him being laid in the bed he was as this dawn broke. He was, after all, now not only the boy who lived or even simply the chosen one, both titles which were born in heartbreak and had brought him more heartache than anything else, but now he was also the one who had defeated the most powerful Dark Lord that had ever lived. He bitterly wondered what the Press would call him now, what pithy title they would give him in their headlines, or perhaps already had. Not that all he had achieved was him alone, he may have been the one who had faced Voldemort in the end, but he knew and readily acknowledged that he could not have done it all on his own, he had needed the help of his friends, especially while in hiding. He knew, however, that was not likely to mean much to the press, they would recreate him as a hero again, until they found a reason to knock him down again.

He was dreading meeting the families of the dead as well, though for very different reasons. How could he face those who had lost so much, would they blame him for their loss? He knew it was something he would need to do, would be expected to do, though he hoped he would not have to do it alone. It was not his two friends who had been with him during his mission that he wanted at his side when he did, but another. He would not, of course reject their support if they offered it, he knew they would help and that there would be some expectations of them as well. It was just that there was another he hoped, so desperately wanted, at his side and not just for helping him carry out duties or look good on his arm either, she meant far too much to him for that. He also knew that he had his own grief and feelings to deal with at some point, would he be able to have the luxury to grieve at all? It was not something he was used to doing though, he had always bottled up such things, never quite letting them go despite appearances to the contrary. He wondered if he would really be allowed to have a life of his own, or if his life would be even more public than before. Just now it all seemed to be building within him, perhaps, with luck, eventually a balance could be reached.

He was determined that he would avoid being directly interviewed by the Wizarding press, at least for the moment. He would definitely make every effort to especially avoid Rita Skeeter, the reporter from the Daily Prophet who twisted everything for her own unique style of malicious gossip, regardless of the facts, which she would never allow to stand in the way of a juicy story. She was one person he would be glad if he never saw her again, he didn't wish her harm of course, but he would be very pleased to be told she had been sent away on assignment somewhere, anywhere on a different continent in fact. Despite all his worries and self doubts, he could not help but, feel quite optimistic for the future, mixed with a touch of pride in his friends. After all, for the first time since before he was born, the Wizarding world, his world, was truly free to start again. Voldemort was dead, his followers either dead, captured, or being hunted down, but certainly they would not be able to influence the recovery from the occupation they had presided over. There would, at the very least, be no more mass murders; half bloods, the Muggle born and Muggles were again safe from that, life for the whole community could return to a normality, what ever that was. This was, he hoped, a new era of freedom beginning for everyone, maybe even for Harry, who for the first time in his life, had no prophecy to fulfil and no quest to follow. He was, for the first time, fully the master of his own destiny he thought to himself, well, as much as anyone one was, he conceded and part of him wondered if that would really be true.

He finally emerged from his thoughts and looked again around the room, this time taking in what he saw. First he noticed a pile of clean clothes, neatly folded on a chair beside his bed. Kreacher, he guessed, must have placed them there ready for him, he certainly needed them. He smiled, despite his discomfort, and he rose from the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress, his feet firmly planted on the warm rug at the side of the bed. It looked like his house elf, who had at one time hated his new master, had forgiven him for not returning to the house in September, when the trio had nearly been caught once again. Reaching for the clothes, he realised the elf he had inherited and who had proudly led the school elves into the battle when the fighting had entered the castle, must have decided to remain loyal to him, and he was grateful for that. He picked up the pile of clothes and stiffly walked over to the bathroom to prepare or the day, trying to stretch the stiffness from his muscles as he went.

He did not take long to refresh himself, quickly showering to swill off the grime of battle, the soap stinging in every cut and graze, of which there were many, on his body. He had avoided looking in the mirror, not wanting to know the extent of his injuries, they were minor compared to others and would heal in time on their own. Refreshed and rejuvenated to a surprisingly large extent after the shower, he dressed and returned to the dormitory where he resumed looking around the familiar room that had been his first real home, the first place he had ever truly relaxed, but had not seen for almost a year. It was quite as he remembered it, five beds, five wardrobes and the same number of bedside tables arranged around the central pot bellied heater for the room. He noticed a second chair had been placed on the opposite side of his bed from the one that had held the clean clothes. It was nearest the door, close by and angled so that anyone who may have sat in it while he slept could have seen his face on the pillow. Whoever it was for, placed seeing him over their own safety, to sit with their back to the door was something he had not done since Voldemort's rebirth. It looked just like someone had decided to watch over him whilst he slept, at least for some of that time, but who and why? Whoever it might have been he had no idea, the chair was empty, though a comforting flowery fragrance lingered faintly in the air around it, it was somehow familiar to him and a scent he had missed for far too long.

Neville, Dean, Seamus and Ron were also beginning to rise now, sitting up, smiles on their faces, as they began to emerge from the warm cocoons of the sheets and got dressed, they gave him thumbs up signs. Harry crossed to the window, every muscle in his body, it seemed to him, ached in protest at the movement, despite having taken a shower. He considered taking a bath to ease them further than they had been in the shower, but quickly decided against it, his body would ease as it got used to movement after his rest he thought. It usually had in the past, even at the Dursley's, before he had come to Hogwarts for the first time most of his aches and pains had faded as he got on with his day. He dismissed the thought as soon as he looked through the glass in the window, across the grounds, where the newly risen sun was warming the waters of the lake. The giant Squid swam just below the surface of the calm water, small ripples were lapping the shore as always, the geese and other water fowl taking flight as the giant decapod glided gently beneath them. He noticed a few Mermen swimming after it, playfully antagonising its tentacles, then dodging them as it tried to retaliate to their game. He spotted the faint glow of a ghost in the water, probably moaning Myrtle who he knew from experience would visit the lake from her Bathroom via the pipes. The ghost flashed past and amongst the Mermen, disturbing their teasing pursuit, then seeming to lead them off as they chased it across the lake. He smiled at the antic's in the water and his mind fell back, deep into his own thoughts, as he watched, unseeing, the scene outside the window. All was peaceful in the grounds now, at least from this high vantage point. He could see the lawns were heavily scarred by the battle, deep trenches had been gouged in the lawns by badly aimed spell fire, the outline of a giant had been imprinted where it had fallen, even a number of trees from the forbidden forest had been up rooted. They lay forlornly, strewn randomly over the area he could see, giving every appearance of having been tossed around like twigs in a wind. Still, birds scavenged for insects in the bark and soil, there were Daisy's and dandelions among the flowers that had survived, sought by Rabbits hunting breakfast in the damaged ground.

His thoughts drifted back to those lost and his memories of them here at Hogwarts; asking Lupin to help him defend against Dementors; Colin taking pictures with his old camera to send home to his Muggle parents; Quidditch matches with Fred; Sirius appearing in his dog form at one match, later seeing him off on the back of Buckbeak having rescued him from where his godfather had been held after he had been caught. Tonks walking him to the school after Malfoy had stunned him on the train; the funeral of his old headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, almost a year ago when he had made one of the hardest decisions of his life, to leave Ginny behind, a choice he both knew had been necessary, but one he regretted more than he had ever believed possible at the time. His regret was tempered by the memories of happier times they had spent together, walking along the edge of the lake hand in hand with her. He recalled sitting by the still surviving tree next to the lake, talking with her, cuddling her, kissing her, laying with her in his arms beneath those leaf laden branches last summer. He felt the bitter pang of emptiness that breaking up with her had left, the joy of that kiss on his birthday only for the pain of leaving her behind. Without a doubt it had been the right thing to do, for her sake, but still it had felt so wrong. Had he ruined any chance he had to be with her again? Merlin, he hoped not.

He was distracted by a slight disturbance in the canopy of trees of the forbidden forest, directly in front of him the leaves and branches shook, sending birds chattering into the air in alarm, then suddenly the trees parted. He watched ruefully as a Thestral emerged, taking flight out through the branches of the trees, leaving a trail of damaged leaves and twigs to fall back down in its wake. It flew gently over and around the lake, dipping its hooves into the water occasionally, before heading back to disappear amongst the trees of the woodland from where it had emerged.

"What the bloody hell was that thing?" Exclaimed Ron from behind him.

Harry almost leapt out of his skin, he hadn't heard him approach, he turned his head sharply and as he looked to his friend sadly, the realisation that Ron could now see the creature sank in."A Thestral!" Harry simply told him with heavy heart, his eyes falling to the floor between them. " The beasts that pull the carriages from the station each year and flew us to the Ministry that time."

Ron could now see these skeletal beasts, was he responsible for the events that meant his first ever friend his own age could now do that?

Ron's head dropped "Bloody Hell." He muttered.

He too had realised the significance of being able to see the creatures that pulled the coaches full of students to the school each year, from the station. All the boys in the dorm room would more than likely be able to see Thestrals now, not to mention nearly all the other seventh year students and perhaps many of the younger students. For those who could, no longer would the school carriages appear to move on their own, for all of them had seen death, with their own eyes, they had witnessed and understood what that meant so now the cadaverous winged horse-like animals would be visible to them.

Harry returned his gaze to the grounds, feeling even more guilty. The after effects of the battle would be far-reaching on his friends, and not just physically, he leant resignedly against the stone work next to the window.

"You all right, Harry?" Neville looked at his friend with kind concern.

"I don't know, Nev." Harry softly replied, more honestly than he intended. "I honestly don't really know. I am not even sure I am certain what that means any longer my friend."

Turning back to his friends, he saw the concern in their faces and sighed, shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts, before in a more confident tone adding. "Don't worry, I'm just trying to get my head round things, that's all."

His friends continued to look at him, though with slightly less worry evident on their faces, Seamus spoke first. "Harry mate, we won, no one is going to blame you for any of it, you know that don't you?"

He looked up sharply. "Aren't they?" He snapped, then took a breath and calmed. "I'm not so sure that they shouldn't, you know. If only I could have got it done earlier, the lives that wouldn't have been lost, those who would still..." Harry's voice trailed off, he knew he had acted as soon as he possibly could have, he had done all he could as quickly as he was able.

"Look Harry, you did what you had to, as fast as you could. Don't blame yourself, it was his fault, not yours, you can't live in what if's. What if you hadn't been born, what if you had been a Squib, what if you had been killed that Halloween? I'm sorry mate, but if any of those things had happened, then he who must not be named would be in power now and there would be no hope." Dean couldn't bring himself to say the name that had been taboo for so many years.

"I suppose so Dean, I guess time will tell, I'm just used to them all turning it against me I suppose, that's all." Harry replied sadly, remembering that of the five room mates, only Neville had been at Hogwarts during the past months.

"Come on, let's go for breakfast. I'm starving." Ron said eagerly, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Harry smiled, looked at his friend, grateful for the distraction from his mood and replied cheekily, "Priorities right as usual, Ron. You fancy some mushrooms mate?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione had practically lived on fungus scavenged in woodland from the rotting wood of fallen trees, during their months of camping, Ron had not enjoyed the monotonous diet. It had been one of the things he had complained about, that night before Christmas.

Ron looked horrified at the thought of eating the fungi again. "You must be joking Harry. I never want to see another one of those, thanks. I'm talking about real food, bacon, sausages, eggs, that kind of stuff. Oh it's going to be so good to eat Hogwarts food again, almost as good as Mum's cooking. Come on then, or it will all have gone by the time we get there." He set off towards the door.

Harry laughed dryly and shook his head before following him. Whilst Ron could usually be relied on to cheer him up and had done again, this was not the redhead that Harry really longed to see.

The boys left the dormitory and walked silently down the familiar stairs to the common room, past the doors to other dormitories, Harry wondered how many were or had been occupied that night. Reaching the common room they found that no one else was in it and it was undamaged, just like their quarters; the chairs and sofas awaiting use. A fire burned brightly in the hearth beneath the familiar circle of blocks high up in the wall near the ceiling despite the warmth that was steadily building as the sun continued to rise outside. The house notice board was bare, already someone had removed the notices placed there during the castles occupation, it was a strange sight, the blank board not something they had seen before, even on the night of the welcome feast, start of term notices would have already almost filled it. From the condition of Gryffindor tower, it was hard to believe a battle had raged here in and around the school at all, except when a view out of the window showed the damage to the grounds. They crossed the room, the silence breached only by soft whispers between the friends, for some reason it didn't feel right speaking above that in the room, not yet.

Harry pushed open the Fat Lady's portrait and climbed through the hole into the corridor just as he had so many times before. He waited for the others, looking back into the room they had left; he guessed he would probably not see it again. Then, as he was rejoined by Ron who was bringing up the rear ushering the others through, he watched the large frame close behind them.

"Well done, Potter!" The fat lady called, smiling tipsily, empty bottles strewn at her feet, she leant against the frame as if frightened she might fall out with the movement of her picture as it covered the entrance again, she swayed back and forth a few times as it stopped in place.

Harry returned her smile, nodded and waved briefly in acknowledgement, he was relieved the portrait was undamaged. He turned round to follow the others and walk down the corridor, before stopping, stock still, in his tracks. The scene in the corridor before him was one of almost complete and utter devastation, the damage here was in stark, shocking contrast to the almost perfect state of the rooms they had just left. House elves and any of the suits of armour that were mostly intact, moved amongst the pieces of broken stone from the walls and statues, gathering the pieces and sorting them into piles along one side. Broken glass and pieces of lead from the windows along with wood from the frames was mixed with the stone strewn over the floor; it too was being gathered, sorted and placed ready for later reuse when repairs reached this part of the Castle. It was disconcerting to see the severed stone head of a statue giving orders to an elf which was gathering the bits that had come from the sculpture, ensuring that care was taken over it's separated body parts strewn over the floor which were brought to be stacked close to the cranium barking instructions.

The boys stood, united in stunned silence, after the normality of Gryffindor tower, this devastation and the sombre scene that they had been too tired to take in on their way to the tower, had brought them suddenly and brutally back to reality. Harry again sank back into his mixed feelings of sadness and guilt, how could he have returned here and brought so much destruction to this castle, the first place he had known that had felt like a real home to him? How could he have led Riddle and his army of Death Eaters here? He knew he'd had to have come here, if he was going to destroy the self-styled Lord Voldemort, but he regretted the necessity all the same. Tom Riddle, which was the Dark Lords real name, had hidden one of his Horcrux's here at the school, one of the seven pieces of his soul that Riddle had magically created through the act murder each time, in a vain attempt to become truly immortal. Now all were destroyed, including the one that had been inside Harry himself and the remnant that had remained within the creature Voldemort had become. Riddle was truly dead now, all the fragments of his soul were destroyed, he could never return to life again, no ritual could be used to resurrect him as had been done once before.

So deep in contemplation was Harry, that he hadn't heard the fat Lady's portrait reopen behind them, scraping over the floor, so didn't turn to see who had come out. Neither had the others with him, they too were deep in their own thoughts and the activity they watched before them, captivating the entirety of their attention in those moments. As a result the sound of footsteps approaching from behind did not distract them either, while the figure approached, heading for one of them in particular.

An arm slipped through Harry's, startled from his thoughts, he looked sharply to his side, his other hand automatically moving towards his wand, before, his brain engaging, he realised that an enemy was hardly likely to take his arm with theirs in so tender a manner as this one had been. His eyes began to focus on the figure beside him, taking in the identity of the person who had so gently placed her limb in his, his nose detecting that familiar flowery scent that he had detected close to his bed. At the same moment as he realised who it was, his heart leapt with joy to see her smiling up at him, a grin he returned. He had dreamed of her each night in the tent, feared she would want nothing more to do with him, but prayed she would forgive him at least enough to want to be near him. Now she was here, beside him, her arm linked through his, he was so relieved that she still wanted to be close to him.

"Knowing you and I think I know you a little better than most." She breathed. "You are trying to convince yourself that this is all your fault, Harry. I can feel you trying to do that, you wouldn't be the noble man you are if you didn't. We can sort that out properly, perhaps after we have eaten though, now come on." She softly whispered, resting her head on his shoulder as she began to guide him forward, through the debris.

Harry's heart leapt again at her words, the reassurance of her scent and the softness of her hair as it brushed against his cheek, giving him hope, he meekly, willingly, let her lead him forward.

"Time you realised it's not your fault, my love, you are not to blame." She added kindly, squeezing his arm gently.

Again, Harry's heart felt like it was trying to force its way up to his throat as it performed delighted gymnastics in his chest. All melancholy thoughts were banished in the feelings of comfort he felt by being with her, at least for now he was reassured. Just maybe he hadn't blown it with her after all, or was she just being kind to him? Or perhaps leading him on, no she wasn't that cruel, but she may merely want to be his friend and nothing more. He had to know, he needed to take the risk. He took his arm from hers and slipped it around her waist instead, then spoke so low that only she could hear him. "I love you Ginny Weasley, I always have."

"I love you too, Harry Potter." She whispered back, sliding her arm round him and meeting his gaze ad flashing the enchanting smile she knew he loved.

He smiled back and gazed into her eyes, he saw the love and the sadness in them, but he also saw something else. Relief? Had she been as unsure as he had? He realised that didn't matter, not now, now they both knew they were together. At last, here was one thing of which he could be completely sure, the first of which he could be certain since waking.

Ron had noticed Ginny and Harry getting closer, he did not look pleased. He stopped as they gazed at each other, his expression turning angry, he opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get chance.

"Don't you dare start, Ronald." Ginny warned him firmly, her eyes not flickering or leaving Harry's while she warned her brother off. "You know how I feel about Harry, I have waited months for him to do what he had to do then come back to me. Now he has and if you think you are going to stop me being with him after I have waited so long, then you have another think coming. I give you my word, if you try to interfere and you will suffer, brother dear!"

"But Ginny..." Ron spluttered.

She turned her head to glare towards him, stopping whatever he was about to say and fiercely retorted. "But, nothing Ronald, not if you know what is good for you anyway. This has nothing whatsoever to do with you, it is none of your business. I need Harry in my life, especially right now, just like you need Hermione. Yes, I know you finally realised what the rest of us have seen, and she has hoped for, for years. She is like Harry's sister to him, has he objected to you catching up with the rest of us? No, he hasn't, he is more bothered that the two of you are happy, so behave yourself. I love Harry and always have, so be happy for us." Ginny told her brother.

"She's right, mate." Grinned Dean wistfully, "I could see that, even when she and I were together, I hold no grudge about it. Harry, Ginny, I'm glad for you both, it's what we were fighting for and you two are just right for each other. It's good to see you back together as you should be."

"We could all see how much she missed him all this year, Ron." Neville told the rapidly deflating redhead.

"All right." Ron reluctantly admitted, holding his hands up in surrender "I can see it too, but I just don't want to see my sister hurt again, that's all."

"I know Ron." Harry looked at his friend, "I love Ginny, to be honest I am so relieved she feels the same way and wants me back, it's more than I could have hoped for, much more. I don't want to argue with you about this, but I will if I have to. Remember how every night I was looking at the map, what do you think I was looking for? Now that we have got rid of Riddle, she is my number one priority, the best thing to every happen to me was and is Ginny, she means everything to me."

Ron nodded, and he, Dean, Seamus and Neville started down the stairs. Ginny held Harry back until the others were out of earshot and sight round the corner then turned to face him.

"Harry, did you mean all of that?" She asked.

"Yes, of course, every word." He said gently. "You are the most important person to me and always will be, I love you."

"Oh Harry, you don't know how long I have waited to hear that." Grinning widely, she pulled him into a tight hug. "Dean is right, this is what we were all fighting for. Having the freedom to be with whoever we want, to love whoever we want. So, no more feeling guilty about what you had to do, all right? Fred wouldn't want that for you, nor would any of the rest of us either. I would expect none of us survivors know quite how to feel, sad at the losses, guilty for surviving even, or happy that it's all over. So lets just concentrate on the feelings we know and just at the moment for us, that's our love for each other. There are things we need to talk about, there is bound to be after all, but that is for later, right now we need each other, we need to see this through together, then we shall see what comes after. One thing is for sure though, I am not going to let you go again, my love, so you better hadn't even think about it."

He nodded as they drew closer to each other, gazing deeply into each other's eyes, seeing the other's relief, pain and love, their heads tilted slightly. Their lips drew slowly closer, the warmth of their gentle breathing disturbing the air between them. Each rejoicing as they inhaled the intoxicating scent of the other, the soft velvet of their lips were about to touch in their first kiss since Harry's seventeenth birthday. They could feel a gentle spark tickle their lips, they were so close, their hearts beating in unison in anticipation of the long awaited kiss.

"Oi! Are you two are you coming down here or what?" Ron's voice echoed up the stairs as he called loudly to them impatiently.

The couple laughed and touched fore heads, the moment gone. "I am really going to have to teach my dear brother about picking better moments," Ginny grinned slightly exasperated, as they turned, arms round each other again then descended the stairs before Ron could come back up and find them.

They caught up with the others; Ginny glared at Ron.

"What?" He asked incredulously at her glare.

The others burst out laughing as Ginny just shook her head slowly and Harry rolled his eyes. "You are beginning to make a habit out of that mate, twice in a row."

"Habit out of what? What do you mean twice in a row?" Ron asked in puzzlement, increasing the laughter from his friends.

"Harry's birthday last year." Ginny growled at him.

This brought renewed laughter from Seamus, Dean and Neville who now had to lean against the wall for support.

Realisation hit Ron and his mouth grew into an oh of understanding, then the thought sank in and his skin coloured with embarrassment in the face of the laughter ringing in the landing and along the stairs.

"Bloody hell Ron." Whimpered Seamus through tears of Laughter. "For gods' sake, never lose touch whatever you do. Whenever I need cheering up I shall need to hear your latest way of putting your foot in it, I shall never need to be depressed so log as you are around."

His comment brought renewed laughter from the others, Harry and Ginny joining the laughter at Ron's discomfort led the way down the stairs the others.

Ron behind them all, the continued subject of mirth as they descended, muttering. "Well how was I supposed to know?" Before he followed them, to continue their descent through the castle.

They sobered instantly a few moments later, they had reached the moving staircases, which were still moving, although some had been damaged. Most had sustained superficial scars or the banisters were broken, but the on directly opposite the one they had emerged onto had lost half it's length, but continued to move, unable to reach any of its destinations. They looked up and saw that a further three were similarly damaged. They continued down, being careful not to step on any of the damaged sections until they emerged on the landing where they could down to the entrance hall. This was where the battle had spilled into the castle from the grounds. It was as strewn with rubble as had been the corridors, that they had picked their way through on their way from the tower, the damage was heaviest here though, where the battle had spilled into the castle. The walls and pillars heavily gouged from the spells, whilst myriad jewels of shattered crystal shone brightly amongst the debris on the floor, the remains of the crystal balls hurled from above by Sybil Trelawney. Flag stones from the floor were misplaced and broken, stained with blood, metal from suits of armour was twisted and bent into strange shapes. While the doors to the Great Hall seemed to have been repaired, the other doors were all heavily damaged, the entrance to the dungeons was blackened and heavily damaged, the steps down covered in rubble. One of the great wooden entrance doors hung, swinging on just one of its hinges whilst the other lay across the steps outside, giving a view over the scarred lawns to the tranquillity of the glistening waters of the great lake and still majesty of the mountains beyond.

They made their way sombrely along a path that had been cleared through the rubble to the repaired doors of the Great Hall and entered the room where the final victory had been won. The hall seemed to have changed little from when Harry had seen it last, although the tables had been restored and rubble moved to one side. Few of the occupants present even appeared to have moved in the time he had been asleep, though he guessed most would have probably been up to the dormitories or elsewhere to rest at some point. Most were sat at one or other of the house tables in family groups, some even taking the rare opportunity to sit up at the staff table, no one seemed to mind the breach of protocol in the least though. Most were either eating or quietly talking, some healers were moving amongst the occupants of the room, checking people and healing any minor injuries they had not had chance to tend earlier. Some of the younger students had returned to the school since the battle, to be with their parents who had come to help defend the castle, they acted as runners for the healers when needed. Those more seriously injured, Harry presumed, must have been moved to the hospital wing, or perhaps even St. Mungo's, to be treated. He guessed he would be expected to visit them, as a moral boost for them. He was beginning to realise that now the battle was over, he would likely be expected to carry out many such duties, and wondered if he would get any time for Ginny and himself to heal for themselves.

The three members of the Malfoy family were sat, slightly apart from everyone else, isolated in the centre of the Slytherin table in front of the large fireplace, ignoring those around them, trapped amongst the victors. As Harry watched, a healer tentatively approached the Malfoy's, but remained resolutely ignored by the family, as he attempted to speak with them, shrugging the wizard quickly moved on. Harry and Ginny were almost unnoticed as they walked between the tables, but as they passed the Malfoy's, Narcissa raised her head and mouthed "Thank you!" To Harry, Her head dropped back down before he could respond, or her husband and son had chance to notice what she did.

The couple continued to walk along the aisle between two of the rows of tables, slowly people began to notice who was passing them, and started to applaud. Ron joined his family, ravenous for breakfast; Hermione was already there, sat with the Weasley's and welcomed Ron with a kiss. The family were gathered around the ashen-faced George, crushed at the loss of his twin.

Dean, Neville and Seamus sat at the end of a table together, they were soon joined by others arriving for Breakfast.

As the applause spread round the hall Harry, embarrassed at the attention, almost turned and fled, but Ginny squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry Harry, they just want to thank you, stick it out love, the sooner they can do it the sooner it will be over. They don't seem to blame you for any of it, just like I told you, you shouldn't." She whispered reassuringly to him.

"All right Gin, I get it, I suppose I just have to catch up with the rest of you." He grinned nervously.

With Ginny at his side, nothing could get him down now, he felt so happy, he just wished they could have had this time for themselves for a while.

Professor McGonagall approached Harry and Ginny, as more and more people began to notice their presence and joined the applause.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley." She nodded her greeting, " I am glad to see you up and about at last, most of us slept through yesterday too, so not to worry. I'm sorry Harry, but the Minister wants to see you later along with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna about something he wants your help with."

From her tone this was clearly not a request, and Harry's surprise must have shown because the Professor sternly added. "We have been left with much to do because of what is now being described as the occupation, apparently, Potter. Both here in the school and across the country there is much to repair, not just buildings, and we must all play our part to repair the damage."

Harry bristled at this, had he not played his part, nearly dying in the process? All he wanted now was a quiet life, a chance to rebuild his relationship with Ginny and to have a chance to maybe complete his NEWT's. Ginny must have sensed his anger, she seemed to have developed a way of doing that with Harry in the months they had been apart, because she squeezed him gently. Looking at her, he saw reassurance in her face and his anger swiftly subsided. He turned back to his teacher and said, resignedly. "Yes, Professor,"

Her expression became more sympathetic, "I know Harry, you have been through a lot, carrying the burden of the entire Wizarding world on your shoulders. I also know that in the past the ministry has not exactly been fair to you, but the new Minister specifically needs your help, not to boost his own ego as his predecessors may have done, but because he wants your assistance rebuilding our world. He is different, but you do know him a little, give him a chance, he is a good man too." She turned as if to leave, but had second thoughts, turned back and looked back at Harry. "Harry, I am so proud of you, I know James and Lily would have been too, well done." Then to everyone's surprise, she hugged him, as a mother would to congratulate her child, with sincere warmth and emotion as silent tears of pride fell down her cheeks.

She held her student for longer than perhaps would be proper between a teacher and student in any other circumstance, but for her she had seen the son of two of her favourite students complete a long and difficult journey. His parents were not there to do this, and she was damned if she would let anyone stop her doing what they would have done for their son. Eventually her tears ceased and she released him. "Thank you, Harry, they would have been so proud of you as well." She said fondly then, turned and sat at the table.

Harry was stunned; he stood unable to move for a moment, Professor McGonagall had just hugged him and cried on his shoulder, she had said she was proud of him. He found that, that simple statement, coming from her meant a lot to him for some reason. She had said that his parents would have been too, but combined with that hug, his head of house's words and actions meant much more to him than he could have foreseen. Finally, he looked at the giggling Ginny as he blushed. She took his hand, as she struggled to control her mirth and gently led him to her family, who were laughing for the first time since the battle, with only George seeming not to have noticed. As they took their seats, the applause that had continued throughout, finally died down, as people resumed their meal or conversation.

"The look on your face when she hugged you, that was brilliant mate!" Laughed Ron, as Harry and Ginny sat down on the bench next to him.

"Someone give Ron some mushrooms will they, he's been longing for some all morning, hasn't stopped talking about it in fact." Grinned Harry as Ron swore at him.

"Get used to it, Harry! There are going to be plenty of people wanting to hug you now." Teased Charlie, then trying to look stern. " By the way, what are you doing with my little sister?"

Harry turned to see that Ginny was grinning at him, she winked, slid her hand round him and pulled him into a long, passionate, wonderful kiss. Harry, lost in the kiss, put his arms round her as nearly everyone in the Hall cheered. Even Grawp, looking through a broken window, joined in the ovation, not that the couple noticed; they were lost in each other. When they parted, the couple gazed at each other smiling, and then looked to the family. Ron's eyes were wide and mouth open, he had gone a strange shade of red. Charlie was laughing, as was Mrs. Weasley, even George had a faint smile on his face nodding his approval."Well Charlie, he seems to be doing very well to me." He muttered.

"Does that answer your question Charlie?" Said Mr. Weasley, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face and placing a slice of toast in Ron's mouth, causing his son's mouth to close on it automatically.

"Enough to put me off my breakfast!" Bill commented playfully, then yelped in pain as Fleur hit him on the arm.

"Be'ayve, Beell it is wonderful." She admonished him just as playfully. "I 'ave always thought zey made ze perfect couple, even back during zee Triwizard, when even zey did not know."

Harry and Ginny giggled to each other at her families antic's, as their plates filled with food, and they started eating.

Breakfast was a bit more cheerful after that, even George, encouraged by Lee Jordan, joined his brothers teasing Ginny about the kiss. Ginny gave as good as she got, but the boys were used to that, she had, after all, learnt from them, and they knew if they went too far, her revenge would be imaginative. The banter died down after a few minutes as plates filled and attention turned to the important business of eating. The peace lasted only a few moments, before the noise of a commotion grew coming from the entrance hall in the midst of which Harry heard a very familiar, though definitely unwelcome voice.

"Out of my way! Out of my way! Leading reporter from the Daily Prophet coming through for an exclusive interview with Harry Potter!" Cried Rita Skeeter, evidently people were trying to stop her.

Professor McGonagall rose and looked questioningly to Harry.

He understood what he was being silently asked. "No way!" He said firmly. "Especially not with her, Professor."

"I agree, she shouldn't even be here, the press have not been allowed past the gate since yesterday. Don't worry, your answer helps, leave it with me." She winked.

The Great Hall doors flew open again as Rita rushed in followed by some of the students who were indeed trying to stop her. She stopped and scanned the room, the smug grin of the huntress who knew she was close to her prey, on her face, trying to find her quarry. The Weasley's had surrounded Harry and Ginny, hiding them from view, whilst still eating their meal, Minerva was quickly making her way towards the unwelcome visitor.

"Miss Skeeter, as you are more than aware, you and the other reporters were asked to wait outside the grounds. It seems your colleagues can respect that those here need time to recover, whilst you appear unable to do so. If you really cannot await any announcements from us or the ministry outside the gate, then you may leave as swiftly as you appear to forget common decency and respect of others." The professor instructed.

"Now, now Minerva, I am only here to speak with Harry, it won't take long." The poisonous reporter smarmed.

Minerva gave no ground, her tone became firmer. "Mr. Potter does not wish to speak to either you or any of your colleagues at this time. You do not have permission to be in the school, your reason for breaching media instructions is a mystery, you have no business here now once again I must ask you to please leave."

The reporter smiled slyly. "Oh Minerva, you don't expect me to believe that poor dear Harry doesn't want to see me. He and I are practically bosom buddies, he tells me he will only permit me to be the one to tell his story, he will be so pleased to see me again."

"One Bat-Bogey Hex coming right up!" Fumed Ginny, muttering darkly; "I've had it with her, she won't know what has hit her."

"Don't Ginny, at least not yet." Harry grinned, trying to calm her. "Let Professor McGonagall deal with her, I suspect she has some way to deal with the beetle."

"Fine, but if that creepy Coleoptera doesn't belt up soon, I shall see if bat's and beetles mix." Ginny agreed, fire in her eyes.

Minerva did not seem flustered by the reporters attempts to placate her, she responded."I sincerely doubt he feels that way Rita, given your history, which I believe on its own may put you in danger of becoming acquainted with some flying mammals. In fact, I know as fact that you would be refused an interview if you were the last reporter on earth. Still, it is of no consequence what you believe or do not wish to accept. Mr. Potter is, at present, under the protection of the Ministry and of this school whilst he recovers with the help of his friends, and he helps them to do the same. He does not wish to speak with you, or any reporter at this time. You have no clue of the dangerous pot you are stirring, Miss Skeeter, so, either leave now on your own, or I will be forced, reluctantly, to have you forcibly removed, for your own protection of course. This is your final warning." The Professor's tone indicating such a removal would be anything, but reluctantly done.

"You have no right to stop me Minerva." Skeeter scowled determined to get her own way. "You have heard of the freedom of the press I take it? I am staying here until Potter gives me the exclusive interview I deserve." Rita folded her arms and smirked, daring the headmistress to act.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Freedom of the Press? I shouldn't worry about that, I should worry about the freedom I have to expel those who threaten us within these walls. I have asked politely for you to leave us, sadly you appear to have made your choice contrary to that request, you leave me no option." Looking up she instructed. "Peeves, you know what to do. Grawp, would you help to see this person from the grounds, please."

Peeves zoomed down from the ceiling, smiling evilly, he saluted the Professor, then turned, rubbing his hands, to face the journalist. "Our pleasure your professorship Ma'am." The poltergeist turned to the journalist. "Naughty, naughty Rita, now how best to deal with a beetle? Team work we would say eh Grawpy lad?"

Grawp nodded grinning, a deep, expectant chuckle resounded in his throat.

"Good lad, together we shall quite easily and effectively cure this insect infestation." Peeves grinned, coloured balloons appearing in his hand.

Grawp, meanwhile, grinned through the window his deep booming chuckle of glee complimenting the twinkle in his eye as he demonstrated his pleasure at the Headmistresses request.

Rita looked from one to the other with a worried look on her suddenly white face, her eyes widening in fear before she turned and ran out of the hall, pursued by Peeves, who chased her with some well aimed water bombs, although from the smell the contents of the bladders seemed to be a more potent liquid.

Laughter rose in the hall, accompanied by applause once again, as the ill liked reporter fled from the room, chased by the poltergeist. Grawp stirred himself from his vantage point at the window and moved away, out of sight of those within. They soon heard Rita's yells turn to a brief scream, then loud, high-pitched, protestations for the giant to release her could be heard and the laughter grew.

Only the Malfoy's were not laughing, they appeared oblivious to the events, or at least ignoring them as cheers and applause replaced the laughter. This ovation was directed to Professor McGonagall who turned back to the Hall, blushed then indulged in a very theatrical low flourishing bow.

Distracted by Rita's exit, no one in the hall noticed that the flames in the fire behind the Malfoy's grew and then turned a bright green colour.

Authors notes:
This is the first of my multi chapter, novel length stories to be published here, however some may have read the original version on another site. This is a reedited and expanded version, ironing out (I hope) my errors and adding to the story. My thanks to Patty for betaing this for me, I hope you all enjoy it.
Tgfoy