The next morning dawned gray and overcast, seemingly reflecting Harry's mood, and after gulping down some bacon and toast, he was reflecting whether it would acceptable to spend the morning curled under his blankets (he never had gotten a chance to find out what happened to Martin), when a sharp knock sounded on the front door. Looking around to see if anyone else in the house seemed interested in answering, he sighed, and slowly walked towards the door.

He was slightly shocked, upon opening it, to find his transfiguration teacher, professor McGonagall standing on the doorstep, looking a bit out of place among the usual collection of muddy wellingtons.

"Er...professor", he said, goggling at her.

"No need for that 'professor ' business anymore, Potter", she said, briskly stepping into the house. "As you are no longer a student at Hogwarts and as I have seen you fight more bravely than Wizards decades older than you, I believe we can treat each other as equals, and you may now call me 'Minerva'." She then proceeded to smile at him in an almost un-McGonagall like fashion until Harry managed to wrench out, "all right...um...Minerva." Feeling all the while as though something dreadful might happen upon saying such scandalous words.

"Are Arthur and Molly around?" She queried, "I was wondering if I might have a word with them, as well as with you, Mr. Weasely, and Miss Granger."

"Just a moment...I'll go get them, shall I?" He said quickly, and then dashed into the parlor, still feeling quite uncomfortable about the whole "Minerva" business.

Mrs. Weasley was standing over an ironing board, looking completely lost in thought as she efficiently waved her wand over the shirt in front of her, immediately smoothing out all the wrinkles.

"Mrs. Weasley,"

She looked up, startled.

"Proffessor McGonagall...er...Miner...well, she's here to see you and Mr. Weasley if you've got a moment."

"Of course Harry dear, but Arthur's just left for work, it's his first day back you know." She said, briskly untying her apron and marching towards the kitchen.

Harry had, in fact, completely forgotten that Mr. Weasley was returning to work in the Ministry of Magic that day. He and Percy (who had already been back at work for a week) were helping transition the ministry from the Voldemort's corrupt regime, back to a normal, functioning government.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had indeed been elected minister of magic in the emergency elections held last week, and under his guidance, the wizarding community seemed hopeful that things would go back to being all right.

Harry knew all this from Hermione, who had been keeping a close watch on the effects of the aftermath of the war. Harry himself had barely touched a newspaper since the battle, and had only once glimpsed a headline: "Harry Potter, the boy who killed (Voldemort)", before Percy had hastily folded up the Daily Prophet he had been perusing over breakfast.

He heard Mrs. Weasely's and Professor McGonagall's voices talking for a few minutes before:

"HARRY, RON, WILL YOU TWO PLEASE COME HERE FOR A MOMENT?"

Obeying Mrs. Weasely's call, Harry ambled towards the kitchen door. Opening it, he found Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall sitting together around the large wooden table, and a very confused and sleepy looking Ron standing at the bottom of the stairs, still in his pajamas. Harry stifled a smirk, Ron clearly had not known that Professor McGonagall had come to call.

Professor McGonagall had the good grace not to give any sign of noticing the pajamas, but Ron was nonetheless, blushing a deep shade crimson.

"Won't you two boys sit down?" She said, gesturing to the pair of chairs across from her.

Once they were seated, she began in her usual crisp tones:

"I have come to discuss with you two, as well as Miss Granger, what your options are for this coming year."

Harry and Ron shot each other a glance. Harry was sure that Ron also had not given a thought as to what they would do this coming year. Getting through each day had been hard enough without worrying about the future as well.

"As headmistress of Hogwarts, I am pleased to announce that we will be offering an 'eighth year' so to speak, for all those seventh year students who were unable to come to Hogwarts this past year, as well as for those students who feel that their education last year was unsatisfactory due to," her eyebrows furrowed into a narrow line, "the Carrows and their 'teaching methods'."

"We are also offering the option for students who feel that they are prepared, to simply take the N.E.W.T.S., and provided that they score reasonably well, they will be granted a Hogwarts diploma."

Harry's eyes had been steadily widening during this pronouncement. Go back to Hogwarts? He had never considered such a thing. After everything he had been through in the past year, returning to the Hogwarts of his childhood seemed as impossible and distant as flying to the moon on his broomstick. And did he even want to for that matter? His childhood and school days seemed to have ended as firmly and abruptly as a book slamming shut, and he was no longer sure if he fancied returning to the beloved halls and classrooms of Hogwarts, when he had seen the bodies of his friends and comrades lying on the floor there just a few short weeks ago.

"I believe that the two of you could easily find employment even without diplomas given your recent actions, but nonetheless, I would advise you both, as well as Miss Granger when she is informed, to think over this offer." Professor McGonagall finished.

With that, she rose to her feet, gave them both a slightly stern nod and said to Mrs. Weasley, "Please give my best to Arthur."

She had just stepped out the door when she turned around once more to Harry and said, with a twinkle in her eyes, "If you do plan on returning to Hogwarts, I shall fully expect you to once again address me as 'Professor'." and then shut the door firmly behind her.

Ron was still looking somewhat bewildered from meeting his teacher in the kitchen while he was in pajamas, but he gave Harry an inquisitive look at this last pronouncement.

Harry just shook his head motioning to Ron that he would tell him later, his mind was spinning enough with the sudden dilemma placed in front of him without worrying about what Ron's reaction would be to the "Minerva" situation.

The rain had cleared up a bit, so Harry and Ron wandered outside to lie under the big oak tree, and discuss what should be done about the unexpected offer they had just received.

"I love Hogwarts and all, but... I reckon it's a bit like a favorite pair of shoes that you've outgrown. You're fond of them and everything, but it would be uncomfortable if you tried to wear them anymore, and you need something new." Ron said hesitantly.

"Mmmm", Harry said in agreement. The cool damp grass was tickling the back of his neck, and he was staring up at the leafy canopy above him, at the dancing patches of light that managed to peep through the leaves.

"But...I dunno...do you really think they'll hire me without a diploma? Bill's always going on about how the job market's murder and how he's lucky he got an internship at Gringotts because it's the only way he ever could have worked his way up to a job there, and that's on top of his being head boy and getting "O's" on all his N.E.W.T.S.," Ron said rather gloomily.

"Listen mate, we just saved the world, they'd be mad not to hire us." Harry responded, "and if they don't, then I'll just threaten to do to them what I did to Voldemort, that ought to give them a little encouragement."

Ron chuckled. "Blimey," he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, "I haven't even properly thought about what I want to do since we had that career counseling in fifth year. Do you... do you reckon the ministry would take us on as aurors?" The tips of his ears turned pink while he said this, signaling his embarrassment at being so open about his ambitions.

"They'd have to be pretty thick not to at least give us a chance considering the fact that the three of us just defeated the most powerful dark wizard in history."

"That was mostly you mate," Ron replied quietly, "Hermione and I were just there for emotional support, which I suppose I failed a bit miserably at..."

Harry was not in the mood of having another argument with Ron about the fact that he did have many skills and accomplishments to be proud of, and had frankly provided much more than emotional support during most of their hunt for the horocruxes, but he was saved the trouble of having to come up with a retort when Ron's eyes suddenly widened.

"Hermione! I hadn't even thought about what she's going to do, but I bet you eleven knuts that she'll be going back to finish seventh year." He said gloomily.

"Eleven knuts?"

"it's all the money I've got," Ron sounded thoroughly downcast, "spending the year on the run wasn't exactly a money making opportunity."

"Do you really think she'll go back?" Harry prodded, "I mean, she's also been through every thing we've experienced, in some ways she's been through more, always taking care of us and being the responsible one, don't you think she might also feel like she's too...well...old to return to school?"

"Harry, this is Hermione we're talking about," Ron groaned, "there's no way she'd ever pass up an opportunity to learn more! Besides, I'm pretty sure it's her life's aspiration to earn "O's" on at least seven N.E.W.T.S."

"I suppose you're right..." If one of his best friends would be returning to Hogwarts, it made Harry's decision that much more complicated.

"Do you know what this means?" Ron sounded panicky, "she'll go back to school and I won't and then she'll fall in love with someone else! I read in Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches that long distance relationships should really be called 'the dementor's kiss of dating'"

Harry rolled over onto his stomach to get a better look at Ron.

"Do you honestly believe that Hermione's going to fall in love with someone else? You two've liked each other since...what...you were twelve? You've been through more together than most people in the world, and you think she'll just march into Hogwarts and start dating McLaggen again or something?"

"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it doesn't sound particularly likely," said Ron grudgingly.

Harry rolled over onto his back again. He had just remembered something about his own life. Ginny would certainly be returning to Hogwarts for her final year, and she and Harry, unlike Ron and Hermione, had not just spent a year together, never mind being best friends since they were eleven. Of course Harry and Ginny had known each other for years, but it hadn't been until the end of Harry's sixth year that any kind of romance had begun between them, and Harry had quickly ended it out of fear of putting her in danger. Seeing each other around the burrow last year had been awkward and painful, and except for one memorable kiss that Ginny had given him on her birthday, their relationship had progressed no further.

Since the war had ended, they hadn't spoken to each other about where things were headed. He knew he still loved her, and he was fairly certain she felt the same way, but he didn't want either of them to rush into anything while they were still grieving. Would their relationship be able to survive a year apart? Feeling slightly sick at the thoughts that had just arose unbidden in his mind, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing them away.

"Bloody hell!" a scrambling noise next to him and a sharp poke in his leg caused Harry to give a grunt of pain and quickly open his eyes. Ron had apparently just inadvertently kicked him in the shins in an attempt to leap to his feet.

"What time is it?" he said, his eyes looking slightly wild.

"Quarter to two," said Harry, checking his watch while massaging his leg with his other hand.

Ron gave a shout and raced off in the direction of the house, yelling over his shoulder at Harry: "I TOLD HERMIONE TO COME WITH HER PARENTS AT TWO AND I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TELL MUM!"

Harry saw Ron round the corner and then heard a loud shriek and the sound of several squawking chickens. From the sound of the shouting it seemed as though Ron had just crashed into his mother carrying a basket of clean laundry, and that having fallen into mud, the laundry was no longer quite as spotless.

"BUT MUM!" he heard Ron bellowing. "THE GRANGERS ARE COMING IN FIFTEEN MINUTES FOR TEA!"

This was followed by more shouting from Mrs. Weasley, and Harry heard phrases such as "IRRESPONSIBLE" and "HONESTLY RON, DO I NEED TO BUY YOU A REMEBERALL LIKE NEVILLE'S GRANDMOTHER SUGGESTED?" waft around the corner. Deciding he'd prefer to avoid this particular family dispute, Harry got to his feet, and turned quickly on his heel, Disapparating.

He arrived a moment later in Ron's bedroom, and spent the next several minutes trying unsuccessfully to flatten his hair and wipe the grass stains off his jeans. He figured the least he could do for Hermione was try to make a good impression on her parents, considering the fact that they had just spent a year on the run and living in a tent together.

Then, after listening intently at the top of the stairs for a few moments, he judged it was safe to come down. In the kitchen, he tried to offer Mrs. Weasley some help, but she quickly shooed him away, still muttering darkly about Ron under her breath. Her wand was a blur as she swept it this way and that around the kitchen, various food items and dishes leaping out of cupboards to arrange themselves neatly on the table at her command. Harry found Ron sitting moodily on one of the chairs in the corner of the parlor, also with a large comb in hand and his hair looking somewhat neater than usual, although there was still a large piece of grass sticking out of the back which Harry quickly pointed out to him.

"Honestly, you'd think I'd killed someone or something the way she was going on," He grumbled.

"Hmmm," was Harry's only response, he'd found that it was never a wise idea to take the opposing side in an argument with Mrs. Weasley.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and Harry and Ron quickly jumped to their feet and went into the kitchen. He had seen Mr. and Mrs. Granger a few times before, but this was the first time he was officially meeting them. Mrs. Granger had Hermione's curly brown hair and was clutching her purse nervously, Mr. Granger wore thick framed glasses, and something about his mouth reminded Harry of Hermione.

What followed was some of the most socially uncomfortable twenty minutes that Harry had ever experienced. Things were clearly not quite as chummy between Hermione and her parents as he and Ron had so hopefully assumed. Her parents kept giving her long searching looks with slight confusion and hurt in their eyes when they thought she wasn't looking, and Hermione herself seemed to be blinking back tears every few moments.

Mrs. Weasley was doing her best to keep the conversation going, but it proved to be a difficult task.

"It's so lovely to finally meet you both properly! Hermione is an absolutely lovely girl, you've done a wonderful job raising her!"

This was met with silence and stiff nods from the Grangers who seemed to be having trouble smiling properly.

Mrs. Weasley attempted to rally again: "My husband will be so sorry he missed the two of you! He's always been thrilled at the prospect of meeting muggl...er...dentists!"

Silence again filled the kitchen at the end of this pronouncement and Mrs. Weasley began to grow slightly desperate.

"You know I believe you met him once, when you came to Diagon Alley to buy Hermione's school things."

"Yes, that's right," She continued, warming to the topic, "he began brawling with another man inside a bookshop, I'm sure you remember! I myself found the humiliation of the whole matter quite hard to forget!" She ended with a nervous sounding laugh.

"You'd be surprised how easy it can be to forget things." Mrs. Granger softy replied, and a positively miserable expression flashed across her face as she stared into the depths of her tea cup.

An even more awkward silence followed this statement, and Harry quickly looked down at his plate so as to avoid meeting anyones eyes.

He was quite sure that Mrs. Granger had been referring to the fact that she and her husband had forgotten that they had a daughter for the last year, as well as forgetting most of the true facts about their life.

Anger suddenly flared up inside of him. Why couldn't these people be grateful? They had been safe, they had been happy, and right at this moment they were alive, when so many others weren't. So maybe things hadn't gone exactly how they would have liked, what did it all matter when they still had each other, when they were still a family? Something he himself had never truly known, he thought bitterly.

His anger died just as quickly as it had come when he began thinking about the parents he had no memories of, real or fake. His father, his mother, both had died in an attempt to save...him, their child. He would never be able to step fully into the Granger's shoes, or anyone's for that matter, but maybe, just maybe, there are somethings you will protect even when there's no hope, even when you know you can do nothing to save them. And maybe, he thought, you'd rather be given a hopeless chance to protect it than none at all.

After that, Mrs. Weasley gave up on trying to make small talk, and they all sat around the table in meditative silence, quietly sipping their tea.

After a quarter of an hour had passed, the clock on the wall suddenly began to chime, and the Grangers jumped up, insisting they couldn't possible intrude any longer. Harry and Ron shot each other relieved looks. Tea with the Grangers had been difficult at best, and downright depressing at worst.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were politely pulling on their coats and thanking Mrs. Weasley by the front door, when Ron elbowed Harry in the ribs and pointed to Hermione, who was beckoning them into the parlor, a finger to her lips.

They quietly followed her in, and she closed the door softly behind them, then collapsed onto the nearest armchair, burying her head in her hands. Silent sobs shook her shoulders. Ron gave Harry a horrified look. This was much worse than any uncomfortable tea. Ron walked over to the chair and sat down on the arm, patting her back tentatively.

"There, there, it...um...can't be that bad." He threw a desperate look at Harry as though begging him to tell him what to say next.

He was saved from having to think up another reply though when Hermione suddenly lifted her head, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh yes it can!" She said, through slightly hysterical sobbing. "They've told me they still love me and that they forgive me about a hundred times, but they clearly don't! Didn't you see those looks they kept giving me from behind the sugar bowl? They don't trust me a bit, and the worst part is, I can hardly blame them." She leaned her head against Ron's shoulder and he slipped an arm around her before she continued.

"They've got their old memories back but...they're not quite the same. It's like taking a piece of paper and writing on it twice, all the words are still there, but they're a bit...muddled. They remember me and their old life, but they also remember their time in Australia, and the life that they thought was real, and apparently, a whole lifetime, fictitious or not, is rather difficult to forget. Dad called Mum 'Monica' at breakfast this morning, and Mum keeps walking outside to tend the garden and then remembering that we don't have one here. It's frankly quite horrible to watch. And I know they feel awful that they didn't protect me, and in the end, ironically enough, I feel just as awful for protecting them."