Disclaimer: No, the ownership of Harry Potter did not change since the Prologue. If it did, why would I of all people get it?

Author's Note: Yes, I posted the Prologue and the Chapter 1 together. Celebrate, because two chapters at once will most likely never happen again.

•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•

For the first time in a long time, Harry did not dream. He awoke slowly, blinking lazily, as he could not recognize where he was. Everything was blurry and spinning, however, so that could be the reason. He promptly shut his eyes, combating nausea.

After a few moments, he recovered and groped for his glasses. He found them to be on his left, which immediately ruled out the spare room at Privet Drive, the Gryffindor dorm, and the Burrow. Besides, the room was too white to be any of those places. However, when he slid on his glasses, he realized he wasn't in the Hospital Wing either.

"Where am I?"

He skimmed the room, looking for clues to his location. Of course, he couldn't see much from where he was lying, but every time he attempted to sit up, his arms had collapsed underneath him, so he didn't have much of a choice. The room was white and extremely bright, which made Harry blink a little too often for his liking. It was large and looked familiar, but he couldn't place it. It was mostly likely because of his angle, he mused, as he was probably standing and looking down at the bed when he had been here instead of looking up.

With that thought, images flashed in his brain. A corridor, a snake, Mr. Weasley… St. Mungo's! He was at St. Mungo's.

With that mystery solved, he settled back into his pillows, mind racing. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember was Umbridge and…" The thestrals, the fallen prophecy, the battle, Sirius falling…

Harry's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. Sirius died. He was dead. He was dead and wasn't coming back. It was all his fault. The grief washed over him, an oddly familiar feeling, and then Harry remembered.

Voldemort was gone.

Harry froze, mind coming to a halt. Voldemort was gone. He was gone forever; there was no way he could come back. Harry didn't have to fight him or think of ways to fight him or do anything else because Voldemort was gone.

His hand snapped upwards, feeling his forehead for his scar. He felt it, but it was noticeably not as deep, and there was no pain coming from it. Voldemort was really gone. He was free.

He didn't know how long he lay there, just staring at the ceiling, a feeling of complete relaxation overwhelming him. His burden was gone, his arch-nemesis was gone, and he felt as if he could fly off the bed. He was at peace.

"…and so I have to give a few potions to Mr. Potter and…Mr. Potter! You're awake!"

Harry glanced towards the door, seeing a portly nurse pushing a cart with several vials on it. They exchanged stares for a moment; his was slightly curious and resigned, and hers was surprised, astonished and faintly rebuking.

"What are you doing awake? You should be resting!" She scolded, bustling over. Harry wondered whether all of his nurses would be large, demanding and bustling, but his thoughts were cut off as a vial was held in his face. "You'll need these potions to recover after facing He-Who-Was-Vanquished."

Harry did not know if it was a side-effect of being perfectly at peace, but he was faintly bemused at Voldemort's new title. In fact, confirmation that the Dark Lord had really been defeated was something he had been unknowingly craving, and it had just been quenched. He sighed and took the vial.

The nurse continued her tirade. "You had completely burnt yourself out; there was barely any magic left in you to heal. Combating magical exhaustion is not difficult, but with the amount of magic we needed for you…" She paused and pursed her lips, putting the empty vial back and giving him another one. "The fact that you were under-weight and malnourished did not help your restoration at all, so we had to take care of that as well."

She gave him the last vial, and Harry grimaced. The combined taste of the potions was worse than chewing on one of Dudley's sweaty socks, not that he ever had, but it was comparable the same.

"I want you to rest, Mister Potter, and you better not even try to get out of bed. If it was not crucial for the Minister and the Chief Warlock to visit, I would have given you a Sleeping Draught." The woman smiled briefly, and Harry was astonished to see how beautiful she must have been in her youth. "And thank you Mister Potter, for taking care of that evil monster. He got my husband in the first war, and you don't know how much it means to us all for him to be finally gone."

She tapped the back of his hand fondly and began to walk out of the room, not giving him a chance to speak. At the door, she paused, back in her demanding, Medi-witch role, "And you feel any pain or dizziness, you are to call for me right away; do you understand, young man?" At Harry's speechless, wide-eyed nod, she beamed and left the room.

Listening intently, Harry heard the rush of the Floo in the other room and he knew that both men had been summoned. He felt his fingers twisting the sheets in apprehension. He knew he did the world a service in defeating Voldemort, but it didn't stop the feeling of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

He attempted to sit up as the Headmaster entered the room, but his arms trembled too much for him to support himself. Harry tried not to blush as Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at his failure.

"Why, how are you feeling, Mister Potter?" The Headmaster asked smoothly, as if it was a common occurrence that Harry was in the hospital. Then again, with Harry, it was.

"I'm fine," Harry repeated automatically, this time flushing at his mentor's stare. Feeling both his neck and cheeks burning, he elaborated, despite the discomfort he was already feeling. "Um…lighter. Like I'm finally free."

At that, Dumbledore beamed. "You should be happy to know that none of your friends sustained serious injuries. Unlike yourself and Miss Nymphadora Tonks, they were able to be treated at Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes widened as those words registered. His friends! He had forgotten about his friends! What horrible person forgot about something so important?

"There is no need to fret, my dear boy. The feeling of freedom that you have received from the death of Voldemort is very strong; it would not be amiss to be dwelling on that instead of others. Indeed, you do think of others quite a bit."

Harry felt himself relax at his Headmaster's words, but then his shoulders stiffened. Dumbledore seemed to be reading his mind. At that, Harry tried not to scowl. Even if he had been using Legilimency, Snape hadn't really taught him how to stop it.

At that thought, he struggled to sit back up again and failed. However, he was too jittery to care, and he plowed right into his words. "So Snape summoned the Order? Did everything work out alright?" Harry felt the dread curl in his stomach again. "The prophecy…it shattered. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to…"

Dumbledore interrupted, eyes twinkling madly. "Yes, Professor Snape alerted the Order, and we all arrived. Six Death Eaters were captured, including Bellatrix LeStrange, and Voldemort was defeated, as you should know, my child." Harry felt the blush returning. "As for the prophecy, it was fulfilled when Voldemort fell, so it was no longer important."

Harry felt something nibbling on the corners of his brain. At last, he had it. "So, you knew what the prophecy said?"

The Headmaster nodded, for one instant looking his age. "I have known the prophecy since before you were marked, my dear boy. It was my duty to tell you, but I wanted to give you a chance at a childhood, without such a burden on your shoulders. When you had successfully learned Occlumency and it was safe from Voldemort, I would have told you. If you wish, I could tell…"

Harry cut him off, as a great weariness set upon him. He knew he should be angry, but the fury that had been in him was gone, vanquished with Voldemort. If he had known the prophecy, he wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries and Sirius wouldn't have died… but then, Voldemort would still be out there. Even if he had known the outcome beforehand, he probably would have chosen the same path. It was a hard choice, between what was right and what was easy, and even without all the background knowledge, he had made it. Harry had never felt so old before, so disillusioned, but he knew the sacrifice that had been given for him to live, and he had chosen to take it.

"There's no need. It's over. I don't want to know."

Dumbledore's face flashed surprise, but then the kindly grandfather was back in its stead. "Very well, my boy. Are you up for some politics?"

Harry heard the Floo surge again and met the Headmaster's eyes. "I probably don't have a choice anyway," he replied dryly.

"Mister Potter! A word if you…Dumbledore, how wonderful to see you," the Minister said as he bounced into the room, skidding to a stop at seeing the older wizard.

"Cornelius, good to see you. How are the preparations for the Awards Ceremony progressing?"

"Awards Ceremony?" Harry asked, feeling the dread returning to his stomach. He was just a good of a seer as Trelawney was, which was saying not good at all, but he predicted that the Awards Ceremony was going to involve him…and the press. Harry loathed the press and any notoriety that went with it.

"Oh yes," Fudge continued happily, either not noticing or ignoring the look on Harry's face. "We've decided that for your acts of heroism, every fighter against He-Who-Was-Vanquished shall be awarded with the Order of Merlin. Of course, since you are the Boy-Who-Triumphed, you will be given the Order of Merlin, First Class, as well as many other prestigious awards and gifts."

Harry felt his mouth run dry. "The Boy-Who-Triumphed?" He questioned, hoping he heard wrong, but knowing he didn't.

"Ah yes, it's the Prophet's new name for you, since you defeated You-Know-Who. It is quite wonderful, isn't it?" Harry did not give a reply. Fudge did not seem to be waiting for one, because he maintained his steady spew of drivel, bouncing on the edge of the chair next to the bed. Harry hadn't noticed that both men had sat down. "As for your friends, Misters Weasley and Longbottom, Misses Granger, Weasley and Lovegood, and the entire Order of the Phoenix, they will all receive the Order of Merlin, Second Class."

Harry found this a good time to interrupt. "Second Class? Why aren't they getting First Class?"

Fudge smiled at him patronizingly. Harry wanted to hit him. "Only those who physically faced You-Know-Who receive the Order of Merlin, First Class. Therefore, only Dumbledore and you will get that award."

Despite himself, Harry could not stop the words that followed. "What about Snape? He was a spy, and faced Voldemort all the time."

Fudge stopped, at a loss for words. Dumbledore flashed Harry an amused grin, which did nothing to stop the horrified fascination that his own words had given him. "As I have been telling you Cornelius, Severus deserves an award of the same caliber. If Harry himself has said so, then it must be true."

"But…but…but…" Fudge was red and spluttering.

"And Harry is the Boy-Who-Triumphed, so his word should be taken on the matter. Isn't that right, my dear boy?"

Harry closed his jaw. Apparently it was possible to shock yourself into silence. He hadn't known where the words had come from, let alone the idea of awarding Snape, of all people. He felt slightly sick just thinking about it. "Erm…yeah. That's what I said."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Well then, it is settled. Cornelius, is there anything else you need to talk about? Medi-witch Vesper is giving us the evil eye." Indeed, the portly nurse from before was glaring at two of the most politically powerful wizards in England as if they were nothing more than schoolboys.

"Yes, a few more things. They will take but a moment. Mister Potter, the Department of Mysteries is wondering what spell you used to vanquish You-Know-Who. It was unlike anything we have ever seen before."

Harry looked at Dumbledore beseechingly, more than slightly confused, but at his nod, he attempted to answer the question anyway. "Well, I went through his mind and then weakened him, and then he died." Harry supposed his summary was a bit lacking, but he honestly had no idea what he did, and he was suddenly too tired to elaborate.

Fudge's grin widened, growing slightly maniacal. He leaned forward, as if waiting to hear a powerful secret. "Well, what words did you say? What spells did you use?"

Harry shrugged as best as he could while lying down. "I dunno. I just told him to die, and he did."

At that, the Minister paled, coughing uncomfortably a few times. After he had recovered, he asked a final question, his smile once again glittering flakily. "Is there anything in particular you want, Mister Potter? You have just defeated the darkest Lord of our time. It would be my honor to reward such efforts."

"I just want to be left alone," Harry thought irritably, before his godfather's image flashed in his mind's eye. With that firmly in mind, he stared at the Minister and declared, "I want Sirius Black's name cleared and to have him awarded an Order of Merlin…and I want Peter Pettigrew's award nullified."

The Minister nodded somberly, his eyes still gleaming. He looked a bit relieved that Harry had not asked anything else. "Done. The Black family will also receive reparations for Black's unlawful imprisonment. Is there anything else?" Harry shook his head minutely. At that, the Minister rose from the chair he had been perched on. "If that is all, then I must go. Things to do, people to see. It's not every day that a Dark Lord has been vanquished, and there is plenty more to do, despite the week's rest you have had. Good day, Mister Potter, Dumbledore."

"Cornelius," Dumbledore nodded in farewell, also rising as the other man hurriedly left the room. "He's such an excitable fellow…but he is right, and I must go as well. Harry, my child, I am sorry to say that you have missed the End of the Year Feast where, due to some heroic efforts, Gryffindor won the House Cup." He paused, his eyes growing old again. "However, there are Death Eaters still at large, and as it is now summer, I ask that you stay at your relative's until they are all caught. On the same note, as your friends will see you at the Awards Ceremony and as you are in a large amount of danger, I ask that you Floo directly to Arabella Figg's when you are released and to not send any owls."

Harry felt his previous joy from the defeat of Voldemort fading. "I…I understand, sir," he managed, though his throat seemed to be closing.

The old wizard's eyes were not twinkling. "I know this is difficult for you, Mister Potter, but we will all see each other again in five day's time. Please rest up and don't worry. Alas, I must go. Farewell, Mister Potter. I shall see you soon."

Harry watched the older man go, the ability to speak suddenly taken from him. He had defeated Voldemort, but he was still being controlled. He wasn't free at all, no matter what he did.

When the Medi-witch re-entered and gave him a vial of Dreamless Sleep, he said nothing and drained the glass without a thought. He did not want to dream that night. He was sure they would be nothing but restless nightmares.

•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•HP•