Harry woke on the morning of the memorial, feeling apprehensive about the day to come. He hoped that he would be allowed some privacy during the ceremony. He was also cautious about how he would feel when they were reminded of the losses that they had had. On the other hand, Mrs Weasley was almost back to normal after their talk the previous night; she gave Harry an extra large rasher of bacon. "Where is everyone?" Harry asked her.

"Bill, of course, isn't staying here anymore," she responded, frying some eggs. "Arthur and Percy are at the Ministry and Charlie's out doing I don't know what. The rest are still in bed. Arthur's meeting us here before we leave but the other's will meet us there." Harry slowly ate his breakfast as the others came down, and filled the breakfast table. Once Harry had finished, he picked up a discarded Daily Prophet that Mr Weasley had left behind. He tutted but he had been expecting this anyway. On the front page was a huge headline that screamed: THE BOY WHO LIVED, LIVED AGAIN. Harry Potter did what we all knew he could do, and bravely duelled You-Know-Who on his own. He was able to defeat him with his incredible skill and freed the Wizarding World from the darkest wizard it had ever seen. This was accompanied by a moving photo of him after the battle. He didn't even see it get taken. He skimmed the rest of the article; it was full of wild yet glorious assumptions of what he had been up to during the war. He groaned knowing this would only increase the frenzy of the crowd and it would appear that he thought he was special, which he didn't.

"What's up?" frowned Ron, mouth full of eggs.

Hermione picked up the paper that he had thrown down in disgust and gave a small, "oh."

"I can't say I wasn't expecting this, Harry," she added, her eyes moving as she read the despised article. "You're just going to have to get used to it," she said, and Harry felt like he was being scolded.

"I will. It's still annoying!" he fumed.

"Hermione give him a break," piped up Ron. Hermione glared at him and returned to her paper.

"The Prophet definitely has a love/hate relationship with you don't they," Ginny joked, smiling weakly.

"Yeah. They love me and I hate them," Harry quipped. Ginny giggled and Harry's stomach flipped at the sound. "I just wonder how long I'll have to put up with this," he lamented.

"Last time, there were articles on you for weeks...and you were only a baby. I imagine it won't end any time soon, I'm afraid," Mrs Weasley said, supervising the washing up.

"And it won't just be the Prophet," Hermione said, who seemed determined to get on his nerves this morning. "Once people figure out where you live there'll be letters, fans-"

"-And fan girls," Ron added with a smirk. Ginny scowled at him. "What?"

"There's also a bit on Kingsley's new government and the laws of the past year he has gotten rid of and- oh no!" Hermione groaned. "Oh, look at this," she muttered. "The Malfoys. According to this article, they're currently hiding in France. The worst part is that they're hoping to get amnesty...claiming they defected before the end of the war. They're nothing but a bunch of cowardly, purist...ah!" Apparently, she didn't know exactly what they were, but the crumpled newspaper felt the brunt of her wrath. He didn't know what he felt about this piece of news. They had been his mortal enemies since he entered the magical world, but Draco seemed to regret it. And Narcissa Malfoy had saved his life...


A little while later, Mr Weasley returned home and Mrs Weasley told the kids to go and get changed. "And HURRY!" she shouted as they disappeared up the stairs. Harry and Hermione were the first down and Mrs Weasley quickly ironed out the creases in their clothes with her wand, then attacked their hair with a comb. She should have know by now that it wasn't going to obey. Then Ron came down shortly followed by Ginny, who had done her hair up in an elegant bun. Harry thought she looked stunning even in mourning and they smiled at each other. "Right, let's not stand around here. Where's George?" asked Mrs Weasley, mainly to her husband.

"He's staying up in his room, Molly. He's grieving on his own. Let him be. Come on, or we'll be late," said Mr Weasley, putting a comfortinh hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Oh, well," she said, taken aback. She turned and looked at them all. "You all look so grown up and wonderful. Let's go." They all apparated to Hogsmeade, where many wizards and witches, clad in black, were walking up the path towards Hogwarts. In fact, Harry had never seen so many in one place before. They followed the crowds of people. The group soon reached the grounds where a large crowd had gathered facing the battered old school. It had changed little since the battle. Harry noticed many people he knew and nodded at them. They invariably beamed back. Many people were still sporting several injuries. They found Ron's brothers and made their way over to a mass of plastic chairs, and took their seats.

A large tarpaulin was covering what was evidently a statue of some kind. The sides of the tarp were being whipped around by the wind that had picked up since they had arrived. A thick fog began to roll over the school, as if hiding the damage. For a moment, it almost looked as if the school was completely undamaged. It all added to quite a peaceful, refereshing atmosphere which was just what they needed. Something to blow away the pain and loss. However, the Aurors patrolling the perimeter reminded Harry that the trouble hadn't completely gone yet. Harry was feeling older than ever. After a while, the muttering ceased as Kingsley once again stood up to make a speech, this time on a stage recently erected in front of the school. The hundreds of heads in the crowd turned to face Kingsley expectantly.

Kingsley's voice boomed across the school grounds. Harry wasn't even sure if his voice was enchanted to sound louder. "Witches and wizards of Britain. We are here today to commemorate the fallen who gave their lives so that others may live. These people may not even know that someone sacrificed their lives for them but I'm sure if they did they would be eternally grateful, as we all are." Normally, during a long speech Harry would drift off. But not this time, he hung on every word that was said. "And so that future generations do not forget these people, it is my honour to unveil a new memorial statue with the names of all those who gave their lives for the cause." Kingsley flicked his wand at the tarp and it flew off to reveal a a large, marble statue of a wizard, about 10ft tall, holding the Sword of Gryffindor in a fighting pose. The statue stood on a block of marble that had the names of the dead inscribed into it. From his position, Harry couldn't quite make out the names. "You will all have a chance to observe the statue, which you'll be allowed to observe at any time. And finally, to thank all of you, everyone who participated in the fight will recieve Order of Merlins Second Class." He waved his wand and tiny blue objects began winging their way into the crowd. One landed in Harry's hands and he examined it: it was a stately gold medal with a purple ribbon that it hung upon. Harry pocketed it but saw Ron quickly put his on, making sure it wasn't concealed behind his robes. "Thank you very much," Kingsley finished.

Applause accompanied the end of Kingsley's speech, and the Minister for Magic made his way off the stage, hastily followed by his bodyguards. He walked up to the memorial and bent down in front of it, evidently saying something that could not be heard. He flicked his wand and a wreath appeared at the bottom of the memorial. He stood up again and made his way back to the school. other wizards and witches began to pay their respects. Gradually, Harry and the others made their way to the front and it was their turn to look at the statue. Harry kneeled down in front of the pile of wreaths and noticed many familiar names: Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were among them. Tears welled up in his eyes as he remembered the many good times he had with people killed during the war. Hermione produced a red wreath and carefully laid it with the others as her brown hair was bombarded by the wind. They stepped back to allow others through. They had turned to leave when Harry received a pat on his shoulder. It was Seamus. "Uh, hi, Harry. Um, McGonagall wants to see you, over there."

"Oh. Thanks Seamus." Harry racked his brains to try and figure out why he was wanted by Professor McGonagall.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter. I understand you're no longer a student here but it would sound weird to call you Harry. The Minister for Magic and I have something to show you," Professor McGonagall said, and turned to walk towards the school with Kingsley alongside. Harry hurried after them.

They walked down ruined corridors with rubble swept to the side. Portraits along the way shouted their hearty congratulations at Harry, who gave them a small smile in return.

"I hope you're coping," Professor McGonagall said suddenly. "You've been through a lot in the past couple of years." She smiled warmly at him.

"I'm fine," was all Harry could think to say. "What about you?"

"Professor McGonagall waved an arm. "Oh, no need to bother about me. I'm just an old woman."

The three suddenly stopped outside the Headmaster's Office. "Here we are," said Kingsley, who had remained silent until then. "I wanted to show you that we had completed your favour." The door swung open as the gargoyles recognised them.

"We haven't had time to set a password yet," commented Professor McGonagall.

"No need for you to have a password, madam," said one of the gargoyles.

The portraits were pleased to see them. "It's Potter."

"It's the heroes of the war."

Dumbledore winked cheerfully at Harry, from his golden frame behind the desk. Kingsley showed Harry over to a section of the wall where the newer portraits were. "Here you go, Potter."

And there, directly in front of Harry, was the portrait of Severus Snape. Harry slowly walked up to him, all the while Snape stared at Harry, his eyes unreadable. Professor McGonagall and Kingsley backed out of the room with respect.

"Professor?" asked Harry tentatively.

"Potter," Snape acknowledged him. All the other portraits were listening intently, leaning as far as they could in their frames.

"I'd like to thank you, for what you did. You sacrificed so much of your life for me."

"You're not the one I care to hear thanks from. Nor are you the one I sacrificed my life for," he muttered.

"I'd like to ask, why did you never want anyone to know you were helping me? People wouldn't have...hated you so much."

"Has it not occurred to you, that the Dark Lord would have found it a tiny bit suspicious if I started to protect you, the person who he had tried to kill for years?" he said, lips curled in an unpleasant smile. "That would have made my life a little bit harder."

"Oh," said Harry, somewhat overwhelmed. "Anyway. Did it hurt? Dying. What happens when you die?"

"It hurt a lot but was no more painful than teaching you potions. As for what happens I shan't tell you. It would spoil the surprise," he finished coldly.

"You say you loved my mother...yet you called her a mudblood," questioned Harry, old frustrations starting to boil to the surface.

Snape's frown deepened. He sighed. "One of my least favourite moments of my life. Do you have any idea what it's like to love someone so fully, and yet if you go anywhere near her, her idiotic, menacing friends chase you off and threaten you? I loved Lily, since the moment I met her, and I was sure one day she would love me back. That was my only, pathetic, pitiable hope in life. The only glimmer of happiness when the rest of my life was a misery. It was the one thing I was sure of. But then she made friends with those fools and they took her away from me. She started to believe their lies about me and I felt her drifting away. I knew she would never come back to me and my life was once again a deep, fathomless abyss of despair. That, Potter, is why I called her a mudblood. Because of my love for her."

Harry paused for a moment, taking it all in. Snape gestured for Harry to leave him. Harry turned to leave but not before he looked back at Snape and said,"well, thank you professor. Oh and uh, I want you to know that I plan on calling my first daughter Lily."

At that name, a single tear trickled out of Snape's eye and flowed down his face. A smile seemed to flicker on his pale face then Snape turned in his frame so that Harry couldn't see his tears. Harry took this as a cue to leave. "Goodbye professor," he said to Dumbledore, who beamed in return. Then Harry walked out of the office.


They returned to The Burrow in the early afternoon, and the fog had cleared to reveal a hot, blue sky. They had had lunch and were chilling out in the first sun of the year, by the pond. Harry lay in the grass, as Ginny dangled her legs in the pond. There was a calming, swooshing sound as she moved her legs, and Harry tried hard not to think of them; especially as her brother was laying with Hermione not that far away, holding hands.

"You know Harry...spring is my favourite time of year...and not because Ron suffers with hay fever, which can be funny," Ginny said, as Harry chuckled. "It's because that's when the world is born again and there are new beginnings everywhere. It's beautiful."

"Spring's my favourite time as well," Harry said, as Ron and Hermione tried to make shapes from the clouds. "That's when deers start to properly grow their antler's back."

"It was good to get it off your chest, wasn't it...this morning I mean."

"Definitely."

"You know, I think it would be a good time to let George in on our prank," Ginny said, turning to look him in the eyes.

"I think you may be right." They got up and, taking Ron and Hermione with them, went upstairs to visit George.

The four of them stood outside his bedroom. Ron rapped on the door. "George. George," he said. "We want to show you something that might cheer you up." There was no reply. "GEORGE! Come on," shouted Ginny, making Harry jump out of his skin. There was still no reply. "Right, let's get in there."

"Ginny! You can't just-" Ron started before Ginny pushed past him. She attempted to push the door open but it was locked. She pulled out her wand.

"Alohamora," she said, pointing at the door. It swung open swiftly to reveal that George's room was empty.