CHAPTER 11

Death And Scars

Dusk had descended upon the rolling grounds and towering turrets of Hogwarts castle, and as Harry lent against Moody with a worrying amount of dependency the cold air hit his face repeatedly, as if it was trying to slap some sense into him through the numbing charm.

'It's cold,' Harry shivered, trying to balance himself independently, but failing miserably.

Moody snorted, but did not reply.

The air battering their bodies even more for perhaps ten seconds, before the light of a bobbing wand was suddenly visible just beyond the gates of the great castle, and before Harry could even think of whom the holder of the wand might be, Moody shouted it out - perhaps his fake eye came with night vision, Harry mused. He certainly wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye.

'Shacklebolt!' Moody barked, glaring at the figure. 'What did I say to you, the first time we spoke?'

There was a brief noise of which Harry supposed was a noise of disgruntled amazement, before Kingsley spoke.

'I - er - you said "One day, that bloody earring of yours'll get yourself killed," or - um -' Came the startled reply of the Minister, face now visible and looking considerably flabbergasted.

'Right,' Mad-Eye said gruffly, shuffling a dazed Harry over to the gate, 'I've got to go and pick up the others - make sure this one doesn't injure himself anymore, for Merlin's sake.'

Moody maneuvered Harry so that he was leaning against the cold iron of the Hogwarts gates, the winged boar leering down upon the strange gathering that was soon to be reduced by one.

With a wink of his remaining human eye, Mad-Eye twisted and disappeared with the customary crack of apparation. There was a long moment of pause.

'Moody's back.' Kingsley said gormlessly from behind Harry.

'Yeah,' Harry replied, too exhausted and weak to inject any sarcasm into his voice.

'But … you were at Godric's Hollow … how could Moody have been - Christ!'

The light being emitted from Kingsley's wand flooded the weak form of Harry as he squinted against the light. 'What the hell happened to your head? You're covered in blood!'

'Roof fell on me.'

'A roof did?'

'Yeah. Went all numb.'

'Right.' Kingsley looked at him worriedly. 'We'd better get you up to the castle.'

'Yeah …' Harry said dreamily in reply, closing his eyes against the harsh wand light. 'You know, I think I'll go to sleep -'

'No!' A harsh hand grabbed Harry's upper arm, and his eyes flashed open before he blinked, groaning, and closed them against the light of Kingsley's wand. 'You can't go to sleep Harry, you'll get concussion.'

'M'tired,' Harry said, scrunching his eyes.

There was a long-suffering sigh that was emitted from Kingsley, and suddenly what felt like a cool breeze blew around Harry, lifting the hair that wasn't glued to his head by blood up as well as the arms of his cloak.

Suddenly, a feeling on clarity reached Harry, and he felt as if he could think properly - as if his mind was no longer foggy and his thoughts were no longer moving through toffee.

'What was that?' He asked Kingsley after catching his breath, looking at the man curiously. Whatever it was, Harry thought grimly, it wasn't likely to last for very long, in any case.

'Clarity charm.' The tall man said. 'It'll be worse later on when the effects wear off, but I think you'll need it for now.'

Harry nodded in reply, trying not to think about when the charm would wear off. He was thankful for the charm; he felt as if he was emerging from a dense fog. He needed to focus on the present - and the present was that he was waiting for Alastor Moody to return from Godric's Hollow with his parents. All three of them very much breathing and very much alive.

How he was going to break this to the Wizarding World he had no idea - and he certainly did not want to think about right at that moment, with a throbbing head and aching limbs.

'We need to get up there.' Kingsley said after a long pause, looking at Harry warily. 'I just took off, they're probably worried.'

Harry looked at the man of whom he now considered an old friend; an old friend that seemed to truly understand some of the horrors of Harry's past - only some, however, because there was really no way in hell that Harry was going to share all of what had happened to him with anyone other than Ginny.

'Moody should be here soon - with my, erm … you know.' Harry nearly winced at how pathetic he sounded. Kingsley just chuckled.

'Hard to take in?' He said, his chuckle morphing into a low, baritone chortle as he looked at Harry with tears of something that Harry wasn't sure of in his eyes.

'This whole thing is insane.' Kingsley continued. 'People are coming back from the dead … there's dead people wandering about! They're actually back … and I'll be damned if there's nothing in it to do with you either, Potter. I'd bet any money.'

Harry grumbled an obscenity that was meant in good will, and Kingsley had to lean against the looming gates that guarded Hogwarts, because of his vigorous humour.

It was at that moment, when a loud cracking sound echoed down the lane and around Harry and Kingsley - and it only made the man laugh even harder.

'Sorry we're so late.' Mad-Eye said gruffly. 'There was an incident with a collapsed beam.' He turned and glared at a sheepish looking Lily. James looked smug, as if he was pleased that it was his wife, and not him, who had slipped up for once.

'Mad-Eye,' Kingsley said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes as he looked properly at his old friend for the first time in years. 'It's good to see you.'

Moody looked Kingsley up and down for a moment, before gruffly lowering his head into a nod. 'You too,' He said simply. 'You look older. What is it you're doing nowadays?'

Kingsley grinned. 'Retired Auror as of ninety-eight, and got elected as the not-so-temporary Minister.'

'Minister for Magic?' Harry's dad said, his gaze slipping over to him. 'You're friends with the Minister for Magic?'

'Yeah.' Harry said, shifting slightly from one foot to the other. 'The novelty wears off a bit when he invites himself around to dinner -'

'That was one time!' Kingsley protested, thrusting his hands out in mild annoyance.

Harry turned to look at Kingsley, incredulous. 'It was half eleven at night!'

'That's early -'

'Not when you've been up since four in the morning with a teething toddler it isn't!'

There was a pause in their bickering in which Harry looked into Kingsley's eyes and felt that through the playful annoyance there was an underlying message that perhaps they really should stop now - considering there were three long dead but breathing people standing beside them awkwardly as they argued.

There was a lull in all speech and Harry shifted on his feet as he scoured his brain thinking of something suitable to say in such a bizarre situation as this - small talk about the weather didn't seem to cut it, somehow.

'We should get up to the castle.' Mad-Eye said finally, his blue eye whizzing around angrily that made Harry wonder just how it was even there in the first place - though he wouldn't put it at all past Moody to place all sorts of protective spells all over it.

'Yes,' Kingsley said gruffly, coughing awkwardly as he turned and gestured to the gates which opened at his wave. 'There's others waiting … but we'll explain that on the way up there.'

Harry could feel the gaze of his parents as he walked up to the school, and they felt as if they were pressing him into the very ground that he was treading on. Kingsley and Moody were just slightly ahead of Harry and his parents, talking as amicably as able with Mad-Eye in the picture about the current state of the Ministry. Mad-Eye certainly sounded impressed, and kept on glancing at Harry with both a curious and appraising normal eye as Kingsley spoke.

'Who … who died?' The soft voice of Harry's father said gently from behind him as Harry slowed, thinking of an answer to his question without giving a rambling history of his entire life to his parents.

'It's hard to explain,' Harry said slowly, turning around to look at his parents. 'Everything links back to everything else … and I'm not sure I can really condense it all. Or tell it all over again.'

'You don't have to tell us the back story,' Harry's mother said somewhat eagerly, 'we just want to know who died since - well, since we did.'

It seemed as though Harry wasn't going to get out of it that quickly. He heaved a deep sigh, rubbing his temples trying to relieve the stress of the situation.

'Sirius died when I was in my fifth year.' Harry began, staring at the grass as he spoke, not even trying to soften a blow to his parents that there was no way he could cushion. Death was death, Harry had concluded long ago, and there was no point or real way of making it seem any less painful or sudden than it was.

The pain and memories of Sirius' death rolled over and through Harry's body, despite knowing that he was back alive and well - however temporary it might be.

'Remus died when I was seventeen … and Moody just before my seventeenth birthday. Tonks - Sirius' cousin - died at the same time as Remus, and so did Fred - Fred Weasley that is. And -' Harry laughed, bemused that he had not mentioned the next person's death before, 'well, Dumbledore died at the end of my Sixth Year.'

Absolute silence followed Harry's words, and he hazarded a glance upwards when he heard a shocked gasp from his mother.

They were clutching each other like a lifeline, faces drawn in horror as they stared at Harry. His mother's face was pale as the moon that was now fully above them, standing out vividly against her dark red hair that framed her face, now dirty and messy from the remains of their former home. It was Harry's father's eyes that he found were the worst, however - when Harry looked into them he saw an intense look or despair and loss, and it struck Harry that this was how he would look if Ron or Hermione died. Harry could not imagine the pain that he would go through if either of them died.

It would be torture.

And then it suddenly struck Harry - they didn't know.

He let out a deep throaty laugh, head pounding at the noise, and he paid no mind to the confused faces his parents were giving him.

'They came back,' Harry said, looking at their faces as their expressions morphed into shock. 'They came back like you did - they're back from the dead.' Harry laughed uproariously as the thought hit him. His parents even managed slight chuckles.

When his laughter finally came to an end and he realised suddenly why Kingsley had been laughing like this before. It was either laugh or curl up into a ball and rock yourself slowly into insanity.

'Sirius is alive?' Harry's father said hopefully, looking at Harry with an expression that portrayed his relief when Harry nodded a positive conformation.

A moment of contented silence fell over the trio, in which Harry brushed some of his bloody hair off of his forehead to prevent it sticking to his skin any more than necessary.

'What's that?' Came the sharp voice of Harry's mother. Harry looked up at her owlishly.

'What?' He said rather gormlessly, and proceeded to remain limp and clueless when she pulled him forward and roughly pulled up his hair off of his forehead just as Harry had done a few seconds previously.

'That scar on your head. Where did you get it from?'

'I -'

At the ferocious look on his mother's face, despite her being considerably shorter than him, Harry conceded. It was hard to deny something he could so easily give to his parents, given the fact that they were breathing and alive and present - even just a mere glance at one of them made a glimmer of warmth flutter in his stomach.

'The night you were killed,' he began softly, watching their faces wearily, 'Voldemort was after me because … well you know why. Because you died protecting me, mum,' Harry's words were getting harder and harder to say, and his breathing was becoming more and more laboured as he went on, 'you … activated, a protection against the killing curse that Voldemort shot at me after you died. The strongest magic of all is love, Dumbledore said. And he was right, too - the curse bounced right off of me.'

Harry's eyes remained on the ground as his mother lowered her hand from his head.

'You say his name.' Came the soft voice of Harry's father, the statement said matter-of-factly, but with no less emotion. Harry looked up into his eyes and offered a small nod to his father. He received a rather watery smile in return.

Small arms wrapped around Harry as he kept eye contact for a split second more before looking downwards at his mother.

Harry hugged her back.

'We're so proud.' Harry's father said to Harry, not needing to ask his wife if she shared his opinion. A small smile played on his lips.

Harry's heart swelled, and when Kingsley's Lynx patronus appeared beside him telling him not-so-politely to get a move on because everyone in the Head's Study knew and Moody was there and grumbling already at everyone about constant vigilance, Harry's bright mood did not dissipate, regardless of the growing ache of his head wound.

- I know that this is a very short chapter for what should be a ridiculously long one for the amount of time that I've left you hanging, and for that I am so sorry. Time has flown by, and I have been studying for my GCSE's which are the exams that you work towards for over two years, as well as getting pneumonia and having the hospital misdiagnose it during the time in which I had most of my exams. I'm all right now; on my third course of antibiotics, and I hope that you accept my grovelling apology! I promise that I will never abandon this story until the end. However long it takes.

Also - a shout out to the soldier, Lee Rigby, that was attacked recently, as well as the deepest sympathies to his family and the outstanding bravery of the women that confronted the two terrorists in Woolwich.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter;

- Spell:)