The first thing Harry became aware of was the heavy, throbbing pain in his head. It took a while before the pain had subdued enough to leave room for other thoughts. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but it was warm and comfortable. He opened his eyes for a split second, but the light caused another wave of pain.

Vaguely, Harry noticed that other people were in the room, and that they, in turn, had noticed him. Several pair of feet seemed to make their way over to Harry, and people spoke in hushed voices. He couldn't make out who were at his bedside. Again, he tried to open his eyes. It still hurt; he blinked a few times. Slowly, painfully, the room came into focus. Beside his bed were sitting Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and of course his best friends and Ginny. He was in the Hospital Wing, he realized, as he saw Madam Pomfrey and the now familiar furniture.

'What happened?' Harry asked, not sure if asking so was a good idea. He thought deep, and could remember the cold night air and running after people. And anger, he could remember anger – so much anger.

'I – well,' McGonagall started, worry visible on her face. 'We are not entirely sure. Hagrid found you, you were lying unmoving on the ground some two hundred yards from the gate. You were Stunned. We think that you were – '

She couldn't finish her sentence. 'I was chasing Snape, and the Death Eaters,' Harry filled in, remembering.

'Ah, yes. That's what we thought. Do you remember anything else? Do you know who Stunned you?' Harry shook his head. 'Well, then. It seems that it was a pretty heated fight. The Stunning curse wasn't the only curse shot at you, you see.' A heavy silence fell. McGonagall looked as if she'd rather not elaborate. Still, Harry wanted to know.

'They tried to kill you, Mr. Potter. You're lucky to be alive. We think someone tried to kill you, but missed, hitting Professor Snape instead.'

Harry's heart stopped. It all came back to him. 'Luckily, you've got nothing too serious,' he heard Madam Pomfrey say, but he didn't register it fully. The curse hadn't missed him; he had cast it. He had killed Snape. Killed. Fuck. 'Just a concussion from your fall and few nasty bruises, you'll be fine within days.' What was he supposed to do now? He had to tell Dumbledore. Surely, he would understand. Snape was a traitor, after all. Dumbledore had trusted him, and instead he had been plotting with Voldemort to kill him. He knew Draco was to kill Dumbledore, encouraged him. Helped him, even. Surely, the bastard deserved to be dead. But at Harry's hands? What had he done? And how… how could he ever tell Dumbledore that his double spy had been… well, not his double spy. Or did he already know?

Harry swallowed. 'Professor, where's Dumbledore? I need to speak to him. It's important.'

'Professor Dumbledore?' She asked. Her voice was shaking a bit, and she looked as though she had been expecting and dreading that question. 'I'm afraid you can't speak to him. He's no longer among us.' Shock went through Harry's body. Professor Dumbledore dead? It couldn't be. Sure, he had been in a bad state after his adventure with Harry. But dead? 'I'm sorry, Harry. He died this evening, at the Order's headquarters. He was poisoned, as you know.'

For a while, he just lay in bed, his mind completely empty and numb after the shock had begun to fade. But after a while, reality floated back into his mind, filling the emptiness. He knew he had to do – say – something.

'Professor, can I speak to you? In private?'

Professor McGonagall agreed and sent everyone away, including Madam Pomfrey, who was protesting that she hadn't finished yet. His friends hadn't said anything yet, but the look on their faces told Harry they were not happy to be excluded from the conversation.

McGonagall ensured the leaving party closed the door behind them, then returned to Harry's bed. 'What do you wish to tell me, Mr. Potter?' she asked, her voice sounding concerned.

'Snape. He was a Death Eater. He betrayed Dumbledore, Professor,' Harry said in one breath. He'd expected McGonagall to be shocked. Instead, she gravely nodded. She knew. She knew that all that time the Order had put their trust in the wrong person. Harry was relieved. She'd understand. He was sure of it. Still, how does one confess a murder?

Harry swallowed. 'Professor? I… The Killing Curse didn't miss me.' He could see his professor raise an eyebrow – surely, he lay there alive and well? 'It wasn't aimed at me, you see. I remember it now. It was aimed at Snape. I…' Harry fell silent. He couldn't. But he had to. 'It was me, who cast it.'

The witch in front him stared blankly at him. 'Harry…' Her eyes looked from him, to his wand on his bedside table, back to him. 'No… surely, not. My dear boy, it must be the concussion.' McGonagall had lost her calm disposition, no longer able to maintain her usual dignified stillness, instead fidgeting, straightening Harry's blankets, checking his temperature. 'Maybe, Madam Pomfrey was right. We should've let her go about.'

'No,' Harry croaked. It would have been a shout, but his body refused anymore extortion, it seemed. 'You don't understand. It was me. I didn't mean to, I wasn't thinking. I was angry, Professor. He was there, Snape, giving orders to Death Eaters, socializing with Bellatrix Lestrange. I realized he had betrayed Dumbledore. It made me so angry. I wanted to chase him, to stop him. I didn't mean to kill him,' Harry said, rushing through the words as not to be interrupted, 'but I did.'

McGonagall looked at Harry. She seemed to have lost all speech. Harry tried to read her face, but it he wasn't sure about what he found written on it. He wasn't sure whether it was concern, or grief, or maybe contempt and shock.

'I'm sorry, Professor. I never meant to…' He didn't finish his sentence; he couldn't stand to use the word 'kill' one more time.

'Alright, my boy, you need some more sleep. I'll see you this afternoon.'

Harry wasn't entirely sure whether she was convinced of his guilt.

Harry's sleep had been long and dreamless, and for a short while, it felt like he had woken up to the unspectacular aftermath of any given school day. But, of course, it didn't last. Rapidly, the thought of Dumbledore's passing came back to him and filled him with a sadness that didn't leave room for thoughts about Snape or murder.

The clock told Harry that it was already three o'clock and his stomach told him that he had slept through both breakfast and lunch. Thankfully, there was a plate of food on the bedside table.

McGonagall stopped by, as she had said. Concern was still written on her face, mixed with empathy. Her words, on the other hand, were straightforward and formal. The school year was over for Harry. Under the circumstances, Hogwarts was not the best place for Harry to stay. Instead, he would remain at the Order's headquarter. Departure would be the same afternoon. He needn't worry about his luggage, everything would be taken care of.

Shortly after McGonagall had left, Ron and Hermione entered the Hospital Wing. Apparently, with no Headmaster and no Potions professor, classes had been cancelled. Both flung their arms around Harry as greeting. Hermione didn't let go for a long time.

Almost immediately, they started shooting questions. They had been left in the dark by McGonagall and the rest of the order, although rumors had already started spreading around the school. Where had Dumbledore taken Harry? How had he died? How had Harry become involved in the battle? Had his battle with Snape come back to him?

Harry felt he had to tell his friends the whole truth. They had to know. When the words had left his mouth, Hermione gasped. Ron didn't seem to react at all, at first. He just blinked a few times with his eyes, before saying it served Snape well, the bastard. He had probably intended to make Harry feel better about the matter – Harry was sure his misery was written on his face – but it didn't. Hermione's gasp felt more appropriate. Of course she was shocked. Good people don't kill. And she had thought he was a good person.

There was silence for a bit, before he went on to tell them that McGonagall had arranged his departure. Then he remembered the Invisibility Cloak.

'Ron, when I was chasing Snape, I had to hide the Cloak. It's in one of the armors in the Entrance Hall. I'm not supposed to leave the Hospital Wing, I think,' Harry said. It was true that he was indeed not, but that had never stopped him before. The idea, however, of having to walk through the gossiping crowds of Hogwarts, seemed more terrifying now than it had ever done before. 'Do you think that you can get it for me?'

Ron nodded and Harry muttered a thanking before Ron turned around to leave the Hospital Wing. Harry hadn't necessarily wanted Ron to go to retrieve it right that minute, but he didn't mind. He hated to admit it, but the presence of his friends didn't bring him any solace whatsoever. He would much prefer being alone at the moment.

Hermione sat at his bedside without saying anything, for a while. Harry was grateful for the silence. Then, Hermione seemed to remember something.

'Ginny was planning to stop by tomorrow morning. She's at the Burrow, now. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took Bill home. He was in the Hospital Wing last night, while you were unconscious. His injuries aren't too serious, I think. But Greyback got at him, so we worry he might be… well, a werewolf. Anyway,' Hermione was rambling. Harry had stopped listening, his thoughts lingering on Ginny. The usual wave of affection didn't come. Instead, it was a pressing feeling of heaviness… 'But I think McGonagall wanted the Hospital Wing all for you,'

'Obviously, you won't be here tomorrow morning. Owling her will do no good now, I'm afraid. By the time Hedwig reaches Ginny, you'll be at Grimmauld Place. However, I think I can ask Professor McGonagall if I can use her office to use the Floo Network. I'm sure Ginny would want to come over right now. Shall I go to McGonagall, Harry?'

'No, don't' Harry said. 'Thanks, but –' It had been thoughtful of Hermione to offer, but Harry had no desire to see Ginny – to see anyone, really. Hermione looked surprised, as well as a little bit disappointed.

'Just,' Harry began. 'Please, tell Ginny I am really sorry. Tell her I will write her soon. She's better off at home, right now.'

His body still sore, Harry crawled out of the fireplace in the drawing room. Its furniture was no longer a menace after the efforts made last summer, but the ambiance was still highly unpleasant. Professor McGonagall followed quickly, getting out of the fireplace a lot more elegantly.

'I'll just bring your things upstairs. Same room as last summer, Harry. You can go to the kitchen now, there will be members of the Order waiting for you. Locomotor trunk.'

Professor McGonagall turned around and left the room. Harry followed suit. When he passed the stairways, he could hear McGonagall curtly greet someone. Harry looked up to see a familiar figure, and froze. It was only a split-second before Draco Malfoy noticed Harry too. As their eyes locked, both stood rigid. Then, without saying a word, Harry continued his way to the kitchen.

In front of the closed door, Harry stopped. He had to take a few moments to gather enough nerve to face an uncertain amount of Order members in the light of recent events. Harry wondered if they already knew what he had done. Even if they did, he figured, he would probably have to tell them again anyway. The longer he stood, the more nervous he became. He couldn't open the door. What if Lupin would be there? What would he think of this? How disappointed he would be to find that Harry had so little self-constraint and so much hate inside him. No normal person kills because they are angry. Eventually, the door was opened for him.

'Don't be standing there like a fool, lad, come in.'

It was Mad-Eye Moody. His magical eye must have detected Harry ages ago, and his patience run out by now. Harry was half dragged into the kitchen. There were three other persons in the room. Kingsley Shacklebolt was leaning against the kitchen counter; he greeted Harry with a broad grin. On the kitchen table were sitting Remus Lupin and a woman that Harry thought was Narcissa Malfoy. Moody nodded and she silently got up and left the room.

'What are they doing here?' Harry asked as soon as Narcissa had closed the door behind her.

'Dumbledore took them here, Harry. Draco accepted his offer for protection. This is the safest place for them to be right now. Dumbledore told us you knew,' Lupin explained.

'Who says they're not here to spy on the Order?' Harry asked, incredulously. He couldn't believe the Order had taken Death Eaters in. Or, at least, that they hadn't thrown him out after they had found out about Snape.

'Dumbledore trusts they won't, Harry, and,' Lupin said, but he couldn't finish his sentence.

Harry felt a surge of anger going through his body upon hearing the explanation. 'So what? Dumbledore trusted Snape. That didn't do him much good, either.'

'And,' Lupin repeated, 'we are keeping a close tab on them. You needn't worry.'

Lupin looked Harry in the eye. Harry could see that Lupin had been up for far too long; his expression was worn and his eyes were pleading for no further resistance. 'Please, Harry. Dumbledore wanted this. We feel we should honor his wish, don't you?'

Harry nodded slowly. Something else occurred to him.

'Dumbledore. Is he… is he here? His body?'

Lupin nodded. 'Yes. Yes, he is here. However, it is important now that we speak to you about last night, Harry. You can visit Dumbledore tomorrow, when you are well-rested and better prepared. Please, sit down.'

Harry had wanted to go to see Dumbledore the minute Moody and Shacklebolt had released him from their grip, their draining interrogation finally over. It was well after midnight, Harry thought, and he had been interrogated for what felt like ages. Lupin, however, urged him to go to bed and decided he should escort Harry to his room. The minute they started ascending the stairs, Harry felt fatigue hit him. His head was throbbing from the concussion and his hip and back were sore from his fall on the cold ground.

When Harry opened the door, he saw the two beds that Ron and he had occupied a little less than a year ago, as well as the empty portrait of Nigellus Phineas Black. He also noticed that the trunk resting on his bed wasn't his own. His, in fact, stood beside Ron's bed. After studying the trunk briefly, he concluded it belonged to Malfoy. Harry let out a groan. As he considered his options, Harry couldn't help but wonder whether Professor McGonagall had failed to notice that there was already a trunk in this bedroom, or had failed to notice there were more bedrooms available in the house.

Harry absolutely did not want to share his room with Malfoy. However, his trunk was heavy and he was tired and not allowed to use magic. Finally, he decided that he would probably fall asleep within seconds, anyway. He wouldn't notice Malfoy's imminent presence until the morning. Then, Mafloy could have another bedroom assigned and everything would be fine.

He unpacked his pyjamas from his trunk, not really feeling like bothering to do so, but also not feeling like sleeping in his boxers in Malfoy's presence. Harry did not make the effort to put the rest of his stuff back in his trunk, but immediately crawled underneath the sheets. It seemed that he had fallen asleep before he had even closed his eyes.