Author's Notes: This is the second part of a continuation after chapter 36 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It is rated for anybody who could read DH. I probably won't change anything due to criticism, constructive or not, because this was written strictly for my pleasure. Flames will be used to start up the burn- barrel. Praise makes me preen.

I will depart from canon on some points, no doubt; I don't really keep track of current HP disclosures.

I had originally set the raid on Gringott's on a Monday morning towards the middle of May. I have since learned that it was to be on the first of May, with the defeat of Voldemort on the morning of the 2nd. In 1998 this was a Saturday. A few minor corrections have been made to comply with this date.

This continues directly from Part 1 and begins Sunday morning.

Remembrance

HOGWARTS MOURNS FALLEN STUDENTS AND STAFF; MINISTRY LAUDS VALOR. Hogsmeade. In a service this morning reminiscent of one almost a year ago, the students and staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry gathered in the open air to take final leave of their own. As before, seemingly every member of Great Britain's magical community who could arrange to do so made his or her way to Hogsmeade, where the citizens outdid their efforts of last June to feed and house everyone they could. Many old students and relatives of current Hogwarts pupils had been accommodated at the castle itself since the great battle two nights before, despite the damage done in the fighting.

These were the people to whom words of sorrow and comfort, loss and praise were addressed. Even a week ago many of them would not have been openly called "people," for scattered among the crowd were the Hogwarts house- elves, and at the edges stood a giant and many representatives of the Centaurs who call the Forbidden Forest their home; two of their number supported Professor Firenze, who insisted upon attending although able to stand only upon three legs. The merfolk of the lake also rose, their singing enhancing the mood of the occasion.

The only formal eulogy was given by Slytherin's Professor Slughorn, who spoke of the courage of Headmaster Severus Snape, including mysterious references to the battle for which no complete account yet exists. The other three Heads of Houses then joined in reading a roll of Hogwarts' deceased, citing the circumstances of their deaths if known, and soliciting responses from the assembly for those not known. In this way nearly a quarter of the dead finally had their stories completed, amid the tears of both participants and spectators. Afterward the Heads of Houses expressed their sorrow for lives cut short and families torn asunder, and the boundless pride felt alike for the students who stayed to fight (or who wished to stay) and for their families and friends and the village of Hogsmeade who turned out at dawn yesterday to come to the aid of the school. A respectful address of gratitude was accorded to the Centaurs, who accepted with great dignity; and thanks were given to the house- elves, who cheered in response.

Last to speak was the new Minister for Magic pro tem Kingsley Shacklebolt. He also spoke only briefly; however, he addressed not only the school and the village but also the crowd at large, exhorting them never to forget the terrible price paid in pain and blood for the defeat of the greatest Dark wizard ever known. He finished with an official announcement, revealing the appointment of Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, to the post of Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Conspicuously absent from the speeches were any but fleeting references to the Boy Who Lived, although Harry Potter was present along with many others who had been unable to attend Hogwarts while it was under the control of He- Who- Must- Not- Be- Named. While the Minister himself has confirmed that the Dark Lord fell at Potter's hands, the only detail he has provided is that Potter did not employ any Unforgivable Curse to defeat You- Know- Who.

However, Mr. Potter had time to answer a brief question before being called away. When asked about his near- absence from the proceedings, he simply replied, "This wasn't about me, or Voldemort. This was for all of us who fought a battle the night before last, because we all lost friends or family or teachers. As you heard, we still don't know a lot of what happened." At that point a meeting for all students was announced and he excused himself in order to attend.

Guests were free to wander the grounds and certain public areas of the castle, a privilege seldom permitted. Two rooms in particular were closed off near the entry hall: one large classroom used as a morgue, its door draped in black with the Hogwarts banner over all, and offerings of flowers, photographs, trinkets, and cards piled along the hallway; and a small office, simply roped off but guarded by one student and one adult, wherein lay the corpse of Voldemort himself. The dead among his followers had already been removed, either by relations or by the Ministry to Hogsmeade for local burials to be completed over the next few days.

The castle itself was heavily damaged, although still habitable. The main staircase from the entrance hall has been shored up, its railing demolished in places; the Great Hall bears the marks of duels– melted pavement, broken windows, chipped stonework and scorch marks. Classrooms and corridors are now open to the air. From the outside, it appears a wonder that the Astronomy and North towers have not toppled, and holes gape at the sky from every wall.

Around the grounds, a great deal of hard work will be needed to put things right. Two huge mounds now mark the spots where the Dark Lord's giants were buried just as they fell.... (continued on page 4)

"At least it wasn't Rita Skeeter," Harry muttered as he found his seat again.

"He wasn't too bad," murmured Ginny beside him. "Not pushy."

"I know I've seen him somewhere...."

Professor Flitwick and Kingsley were off to one side, marshalling the families who needed to transport their dead. Between the sheer number of people who had come on the Hogwarts Express and the difficulty of moving such a number of caskets through King's Cross, Portkeys were being used almost exclusively. There would still be dozens of burials in Hogsmeade's small cemetary, many of them unclaimed Death Eaters but also some students whose kin had asked especially for plots near the school. For them, and for Headmaster Snape, Hagrid was even now striding off toward the paddock to harness thestrals to the carriages being pressed into service as hearses.

"Your attention, please...." Professor McGonagall began. There was little change from what she had told them privately last night, except that the first, second, and third years had their final exams cancelled, and fourth and sixth years would have the option of re-taking subjects in which they felt their scores were unsatisfactory ("Try 'abysmal,'" whispered Ron, "it's gonna be a really good word.") O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were to be administered, and the seventh years especially had far better hope of repeating an entire year minus preparing for one N.E.W.T. than they had of passing four or five with scores high enough to qualify for the particular careers they had chosen.

"This will mean that many classes will be much larger compared to previous years, as they will include those who were prevented from attending this year as well. Options for expanding housing and classroom space will be examined over the summer, and there will be changes to staffing and scheduling to accommodate the increase.

"For the present, the school will reopen and classes will resume on Monday next. Those who were unable to attend or complete classes but who wish to finish the year, please see Professors Vector and Sprout now. Schedules for you will be distributed when you return next week, and tutoring may be arranged."

The crowd thinned again. Ginny, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Demelza, and many others joined himself, Ron, and Hermione in a queue past the table behind which Professor Vector now seated herself with Professor Sprout, checking off names and handing out booklists.

As soon as he was done Kingsley approached him and asked for a few moments.

"I thought you ought to know a few things. Firstly, your uncle and his family are safe and will finish moving back into their house over the next few days. Secondly, we'll be moving Voldemort's body this afternoon by Portkey to Little Hangleton. We've arranged to bury him in his family plot," he said. "Voldemort killed a Muggle nearly four years ago in the Riddle family house; he was the caretaker, a man named Frank Bryce--"

"I remember about that."

"Well, he was suspected in the village all these years of doing away with the Riddle family. We've managed to put that to rest by putting the blame on Tom Riddle Junior, aged about seventy, a son by an undisclosed first marriage who'd been living abroad since the murders and again since returning and being caught in the house by Bryce. As far as the village will know, he was killed while trying to attack a boy at a school in Scotland. It's true enough, and you're still underage according to Muggles, so we don't have to give a name. It gives us an excuse to show up at an odd hour with a Muggle digger and a coffin."

"Thanks for telling me. I hadn't even thought of Frank Bryce."

"You've been busy. In any case, you may come if you wish--"

"I don't think so, sir."

"I didn't expect you to, really. That place can't hold good memories for you. But I brought guests to see you– over there they are. I'll be seeing you later, no doubt."

"Yes. Thank you– Minister."

Harry turned as his name was called, and he stood and gaped as they came over to him. There were Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle– and Dudley Dursley.

Diggle was as ebullient as ever, and even more so when Harry remembered that his house had been burnt down. Hestia Jones he had never known well, but he managed a polite greeting before holding his hand out to his cousin. Dudley was still heavy, but not nearly so much as Harry remembered, and his grip was firm.

"So this is the place. I don't know what to tell Dad, the village is only old- fashioned, it's all nearly normal– except for those elves, and the centaurs, and the mermaids, and the giant–"

Harry forbore to mention that Dudley had grown a vocabulary. For only the second time in his life he felt that he didn't have to be on his guard in his cousin's company, and suddenly he wanted to hear what had happened. He barely noticed that Hestia had pulled Dedalus away.

"Well, we drove away about half an hour, left the car in a car park, and teleported (just like the Mind Melters in "Space Destruction") to a house in the country. Back of nowhere really. Mum wasn't too bad, she likes to clean and that was a real project, and Hestia and she did a lot of gardening until it got cold. I wasn't sure why Dad wasn't worse, I'd expected him to roar around and demand to go home, and I was homesick, too. But a couple of times I caught Dedalus putting a spell on him–"

"I bet I know what he did. It won't have done any harm."

"It hasn't. He's fine. They did the same thing to me and Mum a few times, or so they say. Anyway, I couldn't go to school, and there wasn't any TV or computer, so I tried to keep in shape for boxing. There was a town a few miles away, and they had a little library. I don't know what Hestia did to the librarian but I checked out books when we walked in for shopping." Harry was flabbergasted but bit his tongue, determined not to ask about pictures.

"Then right before Christmas a few dementors found the village, and we had to be really careful. Dedalus can't really do what you did to drive them off, and Hestia couldn't do it for too long, and of course Mum and Dad and I couldn't even see them. They just hung around for months."

"I think they did that all over."

"Were they looking for you? Dedalus said you're really important, but Mum and Dad, well–"

"Maybe. They don't seem to have the brains to recognize particular people, though that depends on who you ask. They were just running wild after the Ministry fell last August."

"Anyway, they made things hard. The only other thing that happened was this radio programme Dedalus liked where people talked about you. I think it finally made some impression on Mum and Dad that something really bad was happening for them to talk about you not being dead. And that's all really until yesterday, when Mr. Shacklebolt showed up and said we could go home and our house was OK except they'd trashed the downstairs and your room. Hestia fixed most of that last night."

"He must have checked it for curses. Um, not that I'm not glad about it, but I'm surprised to see you here."

"Well, Dedalus talks a lot, and I saw a lot of stuff I probably wasn't supposed to, and I got curious. I had a good excuse too. You left a load of stuff in your room, and Mrs. Figg had a big package she brought over for you. It all fit in your trunk and they said I could bring it along."

"Thanks!"

"So what happened to you? I'll probably understand what you're talking about now."

It was nearly an hour later, after Dudley had been shown a bit of the castle and grounds and had a very large sandwich and pumpkin juice for lunch, that Hestia and Dedalus reclaimed him for the journey home, saying that the Ministry had arranged a Portkey for them straight to the Dursley's garden.

"I'm really glad you're all OK, and thanks for coming. Hestia, Dedalus– I really can't thank you enough for taking care of them–"

They were able to stop Dedalus wringing Harry's hand in time to catch the Portkey.

"...and it's weird, it's like they Transfigured him into a human or something!"

"At least he didn't get another tail from Hagrid!"

"Or a three- foot tongue?"

"To tell the truth, I think he wanted to keep away from Hagrid. He was busy, anyhow."

"I didn't even recognize him," said Arthur Weasley, "he seems to have lost some, um, baby fat."

"He said he'd been keeping in shape for boxing," said Harry.

"Oh– that sport where Muggles hit each others' faces with big gloves on? Marvelous...." Arthur sounded a bit more like himself, Harry was glad to hear.

Many guests were taking advantage of Hogwarts hospitality and the fine weather to picnic in the courtyard or on the grounds for some quiet privacy. In an hour the makeshift hearses would leave for Hogsmeade's churchyard and the funerals would begin; afterward the train would depart, only to return next Sunday. Harry supposed he ought to sign up for it.

"Just Apparate into Hogsmeade. Your trunk's already here," suggested Ron.

"He can't," said the Minister for Magic, approaching from behind Ron. "He never passed his test after he came of age."

"That's right. How do I go about that? Last year someone came here from the Ministry...."

"Well, let's see. Ron, Hermione– how much has he done on his own? A lot?"

"Well, a good bit..."

"Ever gotten lost or splinched himself?"

"No."

"Never."

"Harry, what's the hardest Apparition you've done?"

"Umm... Finding Bill and Fleur's without knowing where it was, and taking Dobby and Griphook along."

"And you arrived all right?"

"Yes, except Dobby died," replied Ron.

"RON! That's NOT what he meant! Sorry, sir. Dobby had been hurt before they Disapparated from Malfoy Manor; he wasn't splinched," said Hermione.

"Ah. In that case, Mr. Harry James Potter, keep this with you." Kingsley produced a card, tapping it with his wand and handing it to Harry. "I'll try to come tomorrow, Arthur, but there's a tremendous amount to be done. What time will it be?"

"Two in the afternoon."

"As I said, I'll do my best. I'll have to leave directly for Little Hangleton after Headmaster Snape's burial, so until then–"

"Thank you, sir!"

"We'll see you later, Kingsley."

Twenty- four hours until Fred's funeral. Two days ago, at this time, they had been miserably wet and cold, hanging on to a blind dragon's scales as it flew north....

The long procession of carriages with their coffins wound down the drive to Hogsmeade. From too many of the onlookers came gasps and exclamations at their very first sight of thestrals, and from somewhere close by drifted Luna's ethereal voice, explaining that they were harmless and really quite nice. Last came a coffin draped with the Hogwarts banner: Severus Snape had requested to be buried in the Hogsmeade graveyard without undue ceremony or delay, near to the school that had been his only real home. Harry had wondered briefly why not Godric's Hollow, but had realized that in order to be close to Lily Evans he would have had to be just as close to James Potter. And that, Harry knew from bitter years of acquaintance, Snape would have never permitted.

Nonetheless, he had fallen in directly behind the last carriage. A few students, past and present, came wearing Slytherin colors; the Malfoys walked behind. The internment was a very brief thing, and Harry turned to go, thinking he had been alone until he saw that the Weasleys and Hermione and Kingsley were also there, along with the rest of the survivors from the Order and the DA.

Afterward Harry decided to unpack his trunk, and relieve Hermione's beaded handbag of some of its contents. When they reached the Common Room she looked inside the bag and gave up. Setting it on the floor, she pointed her wand inside and said "Accio Harry Potter's things," dumping dirty clothes, books, and the portrait of Phineas Nigellus on the floor as they popped out.

"What do we do with him?" she asked about the empty portrait.

"I think we ask Kreacher. Kreacher, could you come here please?"

There was a loud crack. "Master needs Kreacher?"

"Yes. Could you take this back to Grimmauld Place the next time you go? If it's safe--"

"Kreacher can go and come back in a few minutes...."

"Um, right, thanks, but before you go-- what happened after we left? We know we led the Death Eaters to Grimmauld Place, and then we couldn't call you in case they could come along...."

"Master need not have worried. Kreacher was watching for Master and his friends, and when strange men burst in and did not know how to quiet the dusty man or my old Mistress or that Master does not like to hear anyone called 'Mudblood,' Kreacher left and came back here, where no Dark wizards would think to look. Master may not remember once saying that everyone must run away and hide if the Dark Lord's people entered."

"I don't, but you did the right thing. We were worried about you. Have you been back there at all?"

"Kreacher went back yesterday, as Master slept. The bad wizards made messes and left curses, but Kreacher will be able to set most things right."

"That's good to know. Listen, I'll be away for a few days, then coming back here on Sunday. When term is over I might be going back to London for a while. I'm not sure what will happen exactly, I'll let you know then. You can stay here if you like, they might need your help."

"Master is very kind to Kreacher. Kreacher will help here until Master needs his house prepared."

"Kreacher-- well done, bringing up the house- elves yesterday. You were all tremendous," said Hermione.

A rather terrifying grin spread across the old elf's face.

"Kreacher wishes there were more. They hurt my old Mistress."

Arms full of Harry's things, he and Ron climbed up to their dormitory and dumped it all on his bed. His trunk had been brought up to its usual spot at the foot. He opened it, pulling out the first layer of dusty and torn robes, and found Mrs. Figg's package.

"Ron, look here! RON!"

"WHOA!"

He started ripping off the old newspaper, tossing a note on the bed, and finally it lay there. The twigs were terribly frayed and chewed, the finish was gone and the handle was split almost in two, but it was his Firebolt. For a long moment he stared at it, then rummaged on the bed until he found the note. Ron gave him a few seconds before asking what it said.

"Hagrid and I were only a few blocks away when we got hit the first time, he took us almost straight up. This fell out of the sidecar first thing but I had to grab Hedwig and my bag. Mrs. Figg says she was watching and saw the motorcycle and the lights from the spells, and just followed on foot, and kept going back that way every day for a week. She saw this up on a roof. She was waiting for a storm to blow it down, when Mundungus showed up one evening and she got him to Summon it before she let him hide in the garden shed for the night– maybe that was when Kreacher was after him– and then she had to hide it under her shed, when she needed to go away herself and couldn't take it. She says the handle was cracked when she first saw it."

"Good thing you and Mad-Eye went different ways. She might have run into Death Eaters that remembered her."

"I'll have to write her."

"Not right now, we have to pack. Do that this week and Pig'll deliver it. We can't be late today."

"Yeah, right. In any case, maybe I ought to get Madame Hooch to look it over."

"It'll take more than that, mate. But there are people who can fix racing brooms. I wouldn't try it yourself."

They left by Portkey within the hour. Harry took the Firebolt, having a vague notion that he should visit Diagon Alley and Quality Quidditch Supplies before returning to Hogwarts, although not before he'd spoken with Bill about Gringott's.

The Burrow had not been ransacked, but had nonetheless an unmistakable air of abandonment: the chickens that had survived had been running wild, gnomes had obviously been at the ragged garden, and many weeks' worth of dust lay thick inside anywhere that had not cleaned the night before. He gladly set to work with the Weasleys and Hermione, and by dinnertime sheets had been changed, dishes washed, and enough laundry started that Mrs. Weasley pronounced herself tired; and Charlie, George, Bill, and Fleur had disappeared, Apparating shortly afterward with two bags apiece full of things from Muriel's. Charlie had a traveling basket full of a spitting Crookshanks, who ran straight for Hermione and refused to leave her alone for the rest of the day.

Harry had known that Ottery St. Catchpole was a mixed wizarding community like Godric's Hollow, but it surprised him that there was a steady stream of knocks on the door that afternoon: the neighbors came, staying for no more than a few minutes at the door, expressing their condolences and leaving dishes; Mrs. Weasley was kept busy, putting most away but serving a large pot of soup for dinner.

Percy walked in later, exhausted and sad, and spent an hour or so with Mr. Weasley and Bill talking about the Ministry; evidently he had gone with Kingsley after Snape's funeral, with Mr. Weasley's blessing, and had gone with him to Little Hangleton. Harry didn't need the details; somewhat at loose ends, he rather wanted Ginny's company, or Ron's or Hermione's. Thinking they had perhaps gone outside, he wandered through the back door. After a moment he heard Ginny talking quietly to someone, and realized it was George. Not wishing to intrude, he turned away, but they had seen him and called him over.

They talked aimlessly for a while in the quiet twilit garden, and found themselves recounting parts of the time since Bill and Fleur's wedding. Eventually silence settled upon them. Harry waited, thinking perhaps George wanted to say something. After a moment he thought of a way to begin.

"There's something I think you ought to know. After Sirius was killed, I asked Nick what would have happened to him. Nick didn't really know; he said he'd been to afraid to– go on– himself." George nodded. "I haven't told anyone except Ron and Hermione what happened to me when I went to find Voldemort. But you know the story of the Deathly Hallows, right? You heard us in the Great Hall, that the wand he used was the Elder Wand? Well, the other two are real, too. The Resurrection Stone was found by Dumbledore, and he gave it to me. It can't resurrect the dead so much as sort of call up a memory of them. I needed help to face Voldemort, and I used the stone and my parents and Lupin and Sirius came. But they couldn't have stayed. They didn't belong here anymore, they had gone on in a way that Nick hadn't. I expected to go with them instead. But after Voldemort cursed me, I didn't die. I think I had the choice– I was in a place that– well, I saw– Anyway, I think what I want to say is that I'm not afraid anymore, not for me or them, any of them. What happened to Fred happened in an instant. It's us left without him, and Lupin, and Tonks, who are going through all the pain. It won't go away for a long time, but it will, and we'll still remember them."

They were all silent for a moment. Harry was wondering if he had made a mistake. Then George said, "You said Ron knows this?" Harry nodded. "So that's why he's been okay. Thanks for that. Could you maybe tell the rest of them? I mean, Mum's not going to believe that a fairy tale's true right away, but she'll take it from you better than me or Ron or Ginny."

"I will, if you think they'll believe me. The important parts, anyway. I mean, people do come up with stuff when they're knocked out–"

"You survived a Killing Curse, Harry, not a bludger to the nose! Anyway, you said you saw them before you met Voldemort. You don't still have the stone, do you?" asked Ginny.

"No. It was broken, and the pieces are scattered now. Like in the story, too, it's not really a good thing. I can see now where it could drive a man to suicide, trying to keep hold of someone that way."

"Good, then," said George, rising. "I think we ought to go in. It's dark and I don't want Mum worried just now."

They met Bill and Charlie and Fleur coming out the back door, ready to Disapparate to Shell Cottage for the night; they paused for a word with George. Harry followed Ginny up the stairs, making sure Hermione was in Ginny's room before continuing up to Ron's.

Monday morning came, and with it clouds that raced across the sky, raining and clearing again and again, changeable and windy. The house began to fill. Fleur's parents, Auntie Muriel, Mr. Ollivander, and a number of cousins came before Andromeda Tonks arrived with Teddy. Harry was permitted a few seconds with his godson before being shunted aside by everybody else in the Burrow. He changed into his Hogwarts robes, now clean and mended, and then they were all walking to the churchyard under a Disillusionment charm, and finally the light conversation and the manic laughter of the last few days were stilled as they met Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood and the Quidditch team, Kingsley and a few Aurors and others from the Ministry and the Order, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and Hagrid, the Diggorys and Lovegoods, and the neighbors who had shared their food last night. Three caskets, although Lupin and Tonks shared a headstone. Flowers. And, scattered here and there in the rows close by, more mounds of fresh dirt with more flowers laid on top.

The family stood together beside Fred's coffin as the clergyman from Ottery St. Catchpole's church spoke. Then Kingsley spoke and suddenly, as with Snape, it was all done; the coffins were being lowered into the earth and the earth was covering them as it covered Dobby weeks ago. Harry stood with Ron on one side and Ginny on the other and his tears joined theirs, not for the dead but for the living.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny managed to talk together in the evening, and found themselves planning what to do over the next few days. They agreed that a trip to Diagon Alley was needed-- not only for themselves and their books, but George and Lee wanted to see how badly the joke shop had been damaged, and Bill and Fleur needed to go to Gringott's. Hermione also wanted to see if the old tent was salvageable, but insisted that it should at least be located and the campsite cleaned up. Ginny was to take the train to Hogwarts on Sunday, and despite being free to Apparate the others decided to join her. Hermione and Ron had realized that they hadn't asked whether or not they would still be needed as prefects.

As there were still some hours of daylight left, they told Mr. Weasley about the tent. He looked as if he would have preferred to come along, but said nothing: Side- Along Apparition was difficult enough with one person, and Hermione was, as usual, taking both Harry and Ron. However, as she collected her beaded bag, she had Harry bring his cloak.

They were back in less than half an hour. The tent door had been open to the weather and the inside was damp and in disarray, but at least the smell of cats was not so prominent anymore. Arthur pronounced it fixable.

Ginny had been disappointed at being left, but as she and Harry talked later, she said it was probably for the best that he, at least, had gone along.

"Why?"

"I think it might have taken just Ron and Hermione a good bit longer, enough for Mum to miss them. That would have been a bad idea today. By the way, this was in with the things in Ron's room you didn't pack–" she produced a book from her robe– "but at least Mum didn't see it."

"I'd forgotten that. I never did get to read it, it was Ron's birthday present."

"Let me get this quite straight– he gave you a book on how to charm girls, then burst in on us and yelled at you for something I started?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Anyway, I had a look at it. I can see where Ron would find it useful, but you do okay on your own."

"Anything I'm too young to look at?"

"Nothing to corrupt you, no. But I should recognize the signs now if you really try to dump me."

"Wasn't planning on it. I like my bogies; I don't want bats up my nose instead. But to change the subject, there's Bill and I need to talk to him about Gringott's. I don't imagine they're happy with me."

Harry knew the goblins wouldn't steal his money, but couldn't imagine them not wanting an exorbitant fine at least. He explained to Bill what had happened Friday morning.

"Well, let's see. You offered the sword– no, Griphook demanded it, there's a difference. It was in your possession when Griphook took it as payment, but the Sorting Hat then gave it to Neville, so the Sorting Hat must have the power to Disapparate objects, no matter how well protected; fascinating, but beside the point. The main thing is, you promised the sword and Griphook took it, and other goblins saw that. Once that original bargain was done, he felt free to turn on you. You, in turn, released the dragon in order to escape death or capture.

"I'm not sure it will be relevant, but what were you after? It might make a difference."

Harry decided he had to trust someone with at least part of the truth sometime, and Bill was as trustworthy a person as he knew.

"We were after Hufflepuff's cup. Voldemort had given it to the Lestranges to keep in their vault. It was... enchanted, cursed. I'm not sure I should tell anyone else, but do you know what a horcrux is?"

"I know the concept; it occurs in Egyptian magic. It's putting your life or soul into a single body part or even an outside object and separating it from your body, so you live even if your body is killed. Sometime I'll tell you 'The Tale of the Two Brothers'...You mean Voldemort actually did it? That's how he survived all those years?"

"Yes. Hermione found a book telling how to do it-- the spell needs a murder to tear the soul apart, then the fragment is hidden outside the body. The cup was a horcrux. We needed the sword to destroy it but Griphook took it first."

"It was destroyed eventually, though, or Voldemort would still be alive."

"Ron and Hermione did it. They have a lot of basilisk fangs somewhere; he got into the Chamber of Secrets that night–"

"I thought that took a Parselmouth!"

"Almost. Ron remembered what I'd said in Parseltongue and repeated it."

Bill looked impressed. "Wow. So the job Dumbledore left you was to look for a horcrux? No, wait– you were still looking for something when we got to Hogwarts that night–"

Harry realized he'd put his foot into it. "There was more than one. The diary that possessed Ginny was one, and the reason Ron left us last winter was a cursed locket that affected him somehow more than me or Hermione. That snake of Voldemort's that bit your Dad was another, and he made two others, the ring that cursed Dumbledore's arm and Ravenclaw's diadem; he found that by getting the Gray Lady to tell him where it was and brought it back to Hogwarts as a horcrux, then hid it there."

"And all of those needed murders to finish the spell! What was it about Gryffindor's sword that could break them?"

"It was full of venom from when I killed the basilisk. That's why Ron went after the fangs. The only other thing we know of that works is Fiendfyre, and that took care of the diadem and everything else in that storeroom in the Room of Requirement. I don't know if they'll be able to open it at all anymore."

"I'll want the whole story, you know. So– Your bargain with Griphook was fulfilled, no matter how you felt about each other. To escape afterward, you released their dragon, while under attack. Had the cup been destroyed then and there, it need never have been stolen per se. And in the end destroying the cup meant that Voldemort was destroyed. The fact that the Sorting Hat took the sword back, in accordance with wizard law (if by means I don't understand), had nothing to do with you. I think Ron and Hermione won't have to come into this at all, and I think Griphook will confirm that this was your enterprise. Perhaps I should handle the whole thing though. Do you need money? Do you have your key? What do you think you'll need?"

"More than usual. Let me think... By the way, I want to do something really nice for your parents, especially your Mum. I put her through a lot last summer when she should have been concentrating on your wedding. I need to help Hermione find her parents too– and she was the only one who had any money all winter, I owe her that... I wonder how much is left...."

Eventually they agreed on an amount, in case it would not be prudent for Harry to appear personally at the bank. Hermione still had the cup in her bag, and Bill retrieved it before returning to Shell Cottage for the night; Mr. and Mrs. Delacour would be going home to France by Portkey the next day before Bill went to Diagon Alley.

Later Harry found himself in the Burrow sitting room, having a late cup of tea with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Since Ginny had come in and was sitting beside him, it occurred to him that he had an excuse to be a little nervous. But eventually, after he had told them what he had told George, the talk turned to the past nine months, which was a relief. He only had to remember not to tell them about Ron leaving, which was something for Ron to take care of himself.

He should have known better, he supposed. The talk died down for a moment, and Mrs. Weasley asked: "So. How long has this been going on? Don't pretend you don't know what I mean."

"Mum!"

"Oh, Molly...."

"About a year," said Harry calmly. "Since the Quidditch Cup match."

"And what happened?"

"I had to break it off. I knew I'd have to leave as soon as I came of age. Voldemort would have tried to use Ginny to get at me. That's why she didn't go back to Hogwarts after Easter, he would have used her against you too." He was surprised at himself; he felt neither angry nor flustered– perhaps because he sensed that Mrs. Weasley wasn't exactly angry either.

"Molly," interrupted Mr. Weasley, "are you really going to tell me that, after all these years, you don't approve of Harry?"

"That's not what I meant, Arthur, I just don't want to see Ginny hurt again, you remember how she was last summer–"

"Well, neither do I," said Mr. Weasley reasonably. "Neither does Harry. As for Ginny, don't you think she's old enough to go out with a boy? Her O.W.L.s were good enough last year, so they didn't interfere with her schoolwork, and she comes of age this summer." He looked at Ginny and Harry, shooing them away. "Go on. Time to get some sleep anyway, if you're all going to London tomorrow."

They went, nearly running into Hermione and Ron (and Crookshanks) who were trying to enter quietly from the garden. Ginny whispered "Fight" and herded them up the stairs. Once they were all in her room, she shut the door. "What's going on?" asked Ron.

"Mum ambushed Harry and me. Dad's taking care of it. She wasn't mad, just bossy. I think it'll be all right."

"What were you doing? Does she even realize you'd gone out with Michael and Dean before Harry?" asked Ron.

"We were all having tea together. I wasn't going to tell her about Michael or Dean; neither will you. By the time they're done, you and Harry have to be upstairs," she said. "I doubt she'll try it with you two. Does she even know about your parents, Hermione?"

"It hasn't come up yet. I'm sure your Dad does though."

"Don't remind her if you can help it, at least until after we're back at school, or Ron will get a taking- advantage- of- distressed- orphan- girl talk, as if you hadn't been camping out all winter. Anyway, you'd better go. Good night, see you in the morning." She practically shoved them both out and shut the door. Harry was sure he heard laughter through the closed door, suddenly muted.

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