Disclaimer: Except for a few characters borrowed with permission from whydoyouneedtoknow and a snippet of a song borrowed without permission from Sara Evans, this is Jo Rowling's beach, and she has been kind enough to allow persons such as myself to play here. All I'm laying claim to is the design of this sand castle.

When the Wind is Southerly

by MercuryBlue

Chapter 20: Let Not Light See

Sitting cross-legged on the sand, Aletha smoothed her patient's hair. I think I just performed a miracle. And nobody who doesn't know the situation will believe me, and nobody who does know the situation will be pleased.

"Mama, take this—"

Aletha looked up, took the end of the blue robe sleeve in one hand, and tugged. A moment later, she was holding a duplicate of the robes worn by the grumpy girl who'd just landed on her backside on the sand again. "Your own fault, you realize," she pointed out, maneuvering the robes onto the child in her arms, who needed them.

Add to the Things I Shall Not Ask About list the question of how this child went from looking like Harry might if he'd grown up in Azkaban to looking like Sirius did twenty years ago except with skin the shade of Meghan's...

The boy stirred and opened brown eyes. "Mama?" he whispered fearfully. "I had a nightmare—I was hurting people, and I liked it—"

"Shh," Aletha whispered, "shh, my strong one, shh, it's all right." She passed a hand across the boy's forehead and down along his cheek. "It didn't happen, it's not real. Mama's here. Everything's all right."

Yeah. Definitely pulled off a miracle. And she was right, I had to do this.

Now to figure out how I'm to explain myself...

Aletha stood and set the boy on his feet, leaving one arm around him to comfort and guide. The other arm gathered in the girl. "Come on," she said to both of them. "Let's go home."

xXxXx

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw the blue light around Aletha wink out, and saw her slump over. He snapped his head around so quickly he was half-surprised he didn't break his neck. Letha, no, please no, I can't lose you too—

She stirred.

Oh thank God.

"I think," Aletha said tiredly, "that I have just done the craziest and most worthwhile thing of my life."

"I'd love to hear what you mean by that," Sirius remarked, "seeing as what I'd like to think you mean by that failed miserably."

Aletha blinked.

"You were glowing," Remus said from where he sat slumped against the end of the couch. "Much as Meghan is now. Sirius thinks that glow was connected to whatever you were doing to keep Harry alive, which seems a logical conclusion, given that when we arrived at the Creeveys', Harry was also glowing. I Side-Alonged both of you back here and immediately left to fetch Danger. When we got back, you were still glowing, but Harry was not. And now..." He waved in the appropriate general direction and put his head back in his hands.

Aletha lunged for Harry's remaining wrist. Sirius could see by the look of horror on her face the precise moment at which she discovered what the others already knew.

xXxXx

"Hermione!" Ginny yelled. "That shiny stick you made for Harry would be very welcome about now!"

Hermione shook herself. No time to panic. Lives to save. Including mine. She sketched the Sword of Gryffindor in her mind, including every detail she could recall Harry mentioning, and threw it from her thoughts to Ginny's hand, exactly as she had to Harry's only a few nights ago. Then, remembering the shape she'd seen before she changed the parameters of the dream, she reached for Ron, imagined, and twisted...

xXxXx

Ron lunged, knocking Voldemort's arm so that the spell he threw at Ginny missed by a mile, tripped, felt the world shift about him in a familiar way, flapped out of the way of Voldemort's next spell—wait. Flapped?

"Ron, go!" Hermione yelled, pointing back and up. "Get Aunt Danger—get all the adults—"

Can't leave you—

"GO! We'll be—" Hermione broke off to do something that redirected a spell away from her. "We'll be fine, just go!"

You better be fine.

Ron threw all his strength into getting his feathered tail out of there.

xXxXx

"Dad?"

"Who were you expecting? Merlin Ambrosius?"

Harry laughed, a bit surprised that he still could. "No...no, I just..."

"Just what?"

Harry shook his head and half leaned, half fell against his father, burying his face in his shoulder. I don't want to answer that, I don't want him to know I wasn't expecting to see him at all anymore...I am not going to cry, dammit, I am not...

Strong arms circled him, squeezed, then drew back. "Look at me, Harry."

Harry tilted his head back till he could meet Dad's hazel eyes.

Dad did not look happy.

"What the hell were you thinking."

Harry could tell from the tone that it wasn't a question but an order to explain himself. "Lots of things," he said quietly, looking away. "Nothing."

"Somehow I suspected the latter," Dad said dryly. "Look at me." Unwillingly, Harry looked up—being interrogated by the Inquisition was not something that had ever figured in his daydreams of seeing his parents again. "Tell me what the lots of things were."

"I'm a Horcrux," Harry began. "If I didn't die, there's no way Voldemort would be able to."

"Nor did you mention this fact to anyone who could have found a way around killing you," Dad countered. "And I assure you they would have."

"He stole my body and turned it into his body."

"And you couldn't steal it back because..."

"I tried. Besides, he could probably do the same thing to other people, except they wouldn't be able to stick around like I did. So even without the Horcruxes he'd be immortal."

"Except that without the Horcruxes, the first time he tried evicting someone else and taking over like he did you, there'd be a split second when he'd find himself with nothing to hold him to the world, and he'd die."

Harry paused to sort out his thoughts. "He was going to kill Letha or Sirius. I had to stop him."

"Commendable, but sending that spell into the wall would've worked just as well as sending it into you, and that's not the one that killed you in any case."

"I couldn't stay much longer anyway. Not without killing Ginny or Alex or someone the way he killed Quirrell."

"You weren't possessing any of them in the same way Voldemort was possessing Quirrell," Dad pointed out. "Quirrell's possession was completely involuntary. Maybe you didn't exactly give any of your friends a choice about you hiding in their heads, but any of them could have kicked you out if they'd tried. Quirrell didn't have that option. And whenever you tapped into part of one of their brains, to see through their eyes or use their hands or whatnot, you did give them a choice. And you deliberately caused no damage to any of them whatsoever. Voldemort destroyed the parts of Quirrell that were annoying him, for example his conscience and his free will. Are you seeing the difference yet?"

Harry nodded.

"I'll grant that you couldn't have known any of that," Dad went on, "but you did know, because your redheaded lady-friend told you, that it is far from impossible to transfigure a tree into a human body closely resembling yours, which you could then claim as your own, making the one Voldemort stole both superfluous and unwanted. Which would solve your initial problem nicely."

Harry stared at his knees. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"Good, you're beginning to realize it. Your mother claims it's genetic and it accompanies the hair." Dad ruffled Harry's. Harry laughed weakly. "You're doing better than I was, by the way, I was a month shy of sixteen when it finally dawned on me. Continue, please. All your reasons."

Those were all my reasons...

"If nothing else, Harry, be honest with yourself," Dad said softly.

Harry sighed. Maybe there was something else... "I'm supposed to be a hero," he mumbled. "I don't know why. I haven't ever done anything heroic. Not even saving Ginny, really—I mostly did that so I wouldn't have to see the look on Ron's face any longer. I thought I was being a hero by keeping the Sorcerer's Stone away from Voldemort, but he'd never have gotten it out of the Mirror. I did that. I practically gifted him the damn rock. That's not heroic, that's just stupid. I...guess I was thinking this was my chance to do something that would really truly make me a hero."

"And..." Dad prompted. "I've been watching you your whole life, you realize. I know exactly how much you like being made much of."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, dying a hero's death means I won't have to put up with being the life of the victory party."

"Wouldn't be much of a party," Dad commented. "Not at Crozer Street. Not without you there."

"What do they need me for?" Harry said bitterly. "They don't even know me, really, except Ron and Hermione, and Ron's got his family and Hermione's got hers and they've got each other. They don't need me at all. Maybe they needed a hero—well, they got one, and now they don't need one and they don't have one and they can just get on with the hero's funeral and have a party after because the wicked wizard's dead."

"You already had this conversation with Ron and Hermione and Ginny," Dad observed. "You weren't even listening to their side of it, were you?"

"Not really, no. We've already established I'm an idiot. What's the next item on the Make-Harry-Feel-Even-More-Worthless list?"

"Is that what this is really about," Dad said flatly. "You were thinking that if anyone had to die to make sure Voldemort died, the best person would be you, because you're worthless. I'll have to find a proper way in which to express my delight that Vernon and Petunia put that idea in your head. And I eagerly anticipate the day when I can properly thank Marjorie and Dudley for helping it along." He took a breath and unclenched his fist. "Harry, you're not worthless. You're anything but. There are a thousand reasons. The only one you're likely to listen to at the moment is you're all that's left of Lily and me. You're the only one who can keep our family alive."

"So you only care about me because of what I can do for you," fell out of Harry's mouth before he thought to shut it. "You're just like everyone else."

"God, no—goddammit, Harry, that's not how I meant it—look at me, damn you. Look at me."

Harry looked up.

"If I was given the chance to live over the day I died, I'd make the same choice I did then." Dad put his hand on Harry's shoulder with a fierce tenderness. "Because you're worth more to me than I am. You always have been, since about sixty seconds after Lily told me you were there. And before you ask," he interjected, "I spent those sixty seconds wondering if she was pranking me."

Harry laughed.

"Actually, I shouldn't say I'd make exactly the same choices," Dad mused. "If I couldn't talk the powers that be into letting me have the whole last week of October again, so I could throttle Wormtail instead of trusting him with the two things most precious to me—you and Lily—then I'd at least make sure I put up a better fight. I wasn't exactly thinking as clearly as I should have been, you see. I forgot I could do this." He pointed, and a fireball sprang from his fingertip and went spiraling off into the distance.

"Cool," Harry whispered.

"Actually no. Hot." A small fireball appeared next to Harry's cheek, and he flinched back. "Very hot. As you can tell." The fireball disappeared. Dad frowned. "Where was I? Oh yeah. You thinking you're worthless. Well, to the Dursleys, you are. But then the Dursleys' collective brain is rather smaller than a Snitch. As proven by the fact that they don't see, they never saw, what an intelligent, loyal, courageous, noble, wonderful young man you are."

Harry felt himself going cherry-red.

"Don't blush, it's true. Inherited idiocy notwithstanding. And they never saw it—well, that's their loss. I see it. Your mother sees it. Your godfather sees it. Your friends see it. I don't know why you don't see it—though come to think of it, that may be just as well, the last thing you need is a big head—but the point is, we see it, and that's why we love you."

Harry went still.

"No one's ever said that to you before, have they?" Dad realized.

Harry shook his head, unable to speak.

"I do love you. Always have, always will."

A long moment passed. Then Dad stood. "Come on, let's go find your mother. I know she's got a couple things she wants to say to you."

Harry didn't move. "There's...one more reason," he said quietly.

Dad dropped to one knee next to him, ready to listen.

Harry didn't look at him. "You said you've been watching me my whole life," he went on in the same tone. "So you probably know I used to daydream about Hero Dad. I don't know how much Hero Dad is like you, but...a few days ago, when I was dreaming about the night you died, I realized...I really do have Hero Dad. And Hero Mum. And you both, when you died, you made it count for something. I didn't think it through, really, not till just now...but I guess I was thinking, even if my living wasn't worth anything, I wanted to make sure my dying would be." He turned to meet Dad's eyes. "Like you."

Dad went red.

xXxXx

Dive left—swing right—eep, duck—how does he do this?—well, of course he's better than a pair of teenagers, Ginny—dodge, swing—

A snarl from the left. She looked. A tiger—a tiger?—leaped from what looked like nowhere to pin Lord Tall-Pale-and-Ugly to the ground, then rolled off him, leaving long bloody scratches where its claws had touched him.

Then a woman stood where the tiger had just been, a tallish redheaded woman with a fierce expression in her green eyes. "Back off, girls," she ordered. "Tommy here is about to find out exactly why hurting a mama tiger's cub is a very bad idea."

xXxXx

"Ron's coming back," Alex said suddenly, breaking the—not silence, Meghan was still singing along to the radio, but the stillness. "Nobody else is—I wonder—"

Ron went from lying on the floor to sitting straight up in an instant. "Mrs. Danger," he gasped out. "Ginny, Hermione—they're fighting Voldemort—"

The adults exchanged glances. "I'm going in," Sirius said at once.

"Not without me," Aletha said.

"I'll get you both in," Danger said. She glanced at Remus. (Your turn to sit at home with the kids and make sure nobody gets into mischief.)

(Hmph.) "Suraremeli," Remus said, pointing his wand at Danger. She collapsed into sleep. Again with Sirius, and again with Aletha—

(Interesting choice of setting for this dream,) Danger commented. (We seem to be rappelling down a mountain.)

(Interesting as in good, interesting as in bad, interesting as in indifferent, interesting as in weird, or interesting as in I feel as if I should be commenting on this but I can't think of anything to say?)

(...Shut up.)

xXxXx

Hermione grabbed a handful of the popcorn she'd dreamed up. It was incredible, really, how much watching these two go at it was like watching an action movie, though in most action movies, the villain was halfway competent and the hero wasn't a tigress who kept changing to human just in time to send a spell to deflect something aimed at either Hermione or Ginny.

"I feel like I should be helping," Ginny muttered, reaching for the popcorn.

"I think Mrs. Potter has the situation under control," Hermione muttered back.

Mrs. Potter took a few steps back. Hermione blinked as a six-foot fireball came out of nowhere and went right through Voldemort, reducing him to a charred skeleton. It did not, unfortunately, reduce his ability to move or cast spells, but judging by the way he moved, it hurt like hellfire.

"Showoff," Mrs. Potter muttered, then became the tiger again for another leap.

Hermione refilled the popcorn bag.

xXxXx

Dad blinked. His eyes swirled with blue, the exact same way Danger's and Moony's swirled brown and blue when they conversed. He blinked again, and the blue was gone, leaving only hazel.

"What did who just say?" Harry wondered.

"I've just been informed that since you've been involved in so bloody many impossible things this week, there's no reason not to add another. And given the present situation, this may not be strictly impossible anyway."

"Which tells me not a hell of a lot."

"It's a family tradition," Dad explained. "A little ceremony. Usually happens when Potter kids hit seventeen, but we're not going to get another shot at this."

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

"You wouldn't believe me anyway, probably...and I can't remember the words..." His eyes swirled blue again. "...ah, right. Stand up," he ordered, getting to his feet. Harry obeyed. "Now, tradition is that the parent says a few words first, but I think we've had enough mushy stuff for one day."

Mushy stuff indeed, Harry thought. More like...what's the word for feeling all the emotions you can feel, all at once, and then getting it all out and have done with it?

Dad placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "By the power that is in me and by the blood that we share," he said formally, "I do release any bindings that may be on the power of the line of Godric Gryffindor within you, Harry James Potter, my blood son. I charge you to use this power always for good, never for evil, and to remember that even the very wise cannot see all ends." His hands tightened for a moment. "And also to remember that I love you."

A peculiar feeling ran through Harry's body, starting at Dad's hands and working its way down and up simultaneously. It was like a shiver, except that a shiver was cold, and this was hot, burning hot—but it didn't hurt...it rather tickled...

What did he say about Godric Gryffindor?

"Now will you tell me what this is?"

Dad looked sheepish. "Should've said that first, shouldn't I? Well, remember how Dumbledore said 'only a true Gryffindor' could get that sword? He meant, but I don't think he knows he meant, that only a blood Gryffindor could get that sword. Only a descendant of Godric's. And since you don't have kids, that means just you."

"...okay."

Dad half-smiled. "Bit much to process, huh?"

"You could say that. What's this 'power of the line'?"

"Sirius told you about how Godric could control fire, and so could his children, and so could theirs. And so can I—" Dad snapped his fingers and was suddenly holding a ball of fire. "And so can you. Except neither Lily nor I had any desire to try to raise a child who set things on fire whenever things weren't going his way, so I bound that power. And then we died and you went to Petunia, and I started wishing I hadn't bothered, because you wouldn't have taken long to figure out the connection between you being annoyed and fires starting, and that alone would have scared Vernon and Petunia into making sure you never got annoyed. Which could have turned you into a little tyrant," Dad mused, "but I don't think so. You're not the type."

"Thanks." But what's the point of this? Harry wondered. Dead is dead. Being able to play with fire would be nice if I was alive, but...

"So do you want to go flambé some Voldy-butt and say hi to your mum, or not?"

Harry imagined Voldemort going up in flames and grinned. "Why not?"

xXxXx

Foosh. A column of flames enveloped the blackened skeleton.

"What's with the fire coming out of nowhere?" Ginny wondered aloud.

The tiger turned human. "The first time was my husband showing off," Mrs. Potter answered. "The second time was my son experimenting."

"Huh?" Ginny said eloquently. (Harry?)

(Ginny?) was the immediate response. Not angry, not scared, though the next part was in a fearful tone. (Please say you're not staying here.)

(I don't want to argue that right now. What's with the fireworks?)

Confusion. (Fireworks?)

Ginny played the last few minutes on fast-forward for Harry—the fight with Voldemort, Harry's mother's intervention, the fireball, more fighting, then the fire that was dying now, leaving only a heap of ash.

(I—wow. I didn't know I was doing that.)

(So your mother told me. Now will you please come back here so you can say hi to her before I haul your skinny behind out of here? He's well and truly and quite thoroughly dead, you have absolutely no excuses for staying...)

(So I've been told. Look left.)

Ginny looked. A stag was galloping up, a familiar thin figure riding it. Harry slid off before the stag came to a halt, then ran straight for his mother.

"Well, isn't this a touching scene," remarked Mr. Black's voice behind Ginny. "A little birdie told us the girls had a snake-man problem. Was he not telling us the truth, or did you lot solve the problem already?"

"We solved it," said the man standing where the stag had just been. He looked, Ginny noticed, remarkably like a taller Harry, even down to the type of glasses. "Lily distracted him while I explained a few things to Harry, I took advantage of a chance to nail him with a big freaking fireball, and Harry—probably not entirely intentionally—fooshed him."

xXxXx

"Fooshed him," Danger repeated.

James waved a hand at the pile of ash. Another column of fire shot up with a foosh. "Yeah. Fooshed him."

"I think this is another thing I do not want to ask about," Aletha commented.

"Ah, you know all the answers already," James answered. "Speaking of answers, you should go back into Healer training, really. To quote Gideon Prewett, 'If it hadn't happened, I wouldn't believe she was stupid enough to give up on her dream because of one failure. Particularly given that she couldn't have saved either of us anyway, and especially given how much good she could have done if she'd become a Healer.'"

Aletha stared.

"Letha, come here," Lily said, beckoning with the hand that wasn't holding Harry tight.

Aletha went.

James came over to Sirius and Danger, looking first at her. "Tell your husband to get off his arse and make somewhere for Harry to go back to."

Danger's eyes swirled blue. "You may not have noticed, Prongs," Remus's voice said as Danger's lips moved, "but we're pretty sure he's dead..."

"You're not usually slow, Remus. You just used this skill this morning. Go look around Letha's back yard for inspiration."

"If you say so," Remus answered through Danger, sounding entirely unconvinced. Danger's eyes returned to mostly brown.

"There's someone I want you to remember," James continued, looking at Sirius and Danger both. "Two someones. Harry's little sister and Frank and Alice's second son."

Sirius blinked. "What are you saying?"

James looked away for a moment. "Lily was six weeks pregnant on Halloween. She hadn't figured it out yet. Alice, the same on Christmas. You know what the Cruciatus Curse does to pregnant women."

"Causes miscarriages," Sirius said, nodding. "Remind me to throttle Trixie—poor kid never had a chance—"

"We'll remember them," Danger said. "Your daughter and your friends' son."

"Thank you." James turned to Sirius. "Keep an eye on him for me."

"As if I could do any less," Sirius answered, trying not to choke up. "God, James—I'm sorry—"

"Shut up. Peter did a damn fine job of talking you into it. And for what it's worth, I forgive you. So does Lily."

"It's worth a hell of a lot," Sirius said through the fist-sized lump in his throat.

"Good."

xXxXx

"James is dead serious," Lily pointed out.

Aletha snorted.

"Er, bad choice of words. He means it. Gideon goes off on regular rants about the idiocy of your career choice. You should go back into Healer training. And while you're studying, you may want to think about the fact that lycanthropy is classified as a curse for good reason, and Remus is living proof that the curse is not inherently fatal. The same for Alice and Frank and the Cruciatus, though you'll want a different approach to help them, and don't waste any effort trying to keep their son from helping you help them. Don't bother trying to keep Meghan out of it, either. Oh, and when you were thinking your patient looked like Harry would if he'd grown up in Azkaban, you were right on the money."

"If you know the answers," Aletha said dryly, "could you perhaps be a tiny bit less cryptic?"

Lily shook her head, smiling secretively. "Sorry. Rules. Granted we're breaking a great many of them simply by having this conversation...speaking of which, Harry." He looked up at her, not pulling out of the hug. "If you ever, ever again try anything as stupid, idiotic, and potentially harmful as what you pulled to get here, you're grounded for the next thousand years. Grounded as in feet glued to the ground, which means no flying and no exploring, and trust me, there is a great deal to explore."

"Like I could," Harry mumbled.

"Please," Lily said on a sigh, "do not tell me that you're still under the impression that you're dead."

"You mean I'm not?" Harry asked, sounding half disappointed, half hopeful.

"No. You're not."

xXxXx

This isn't fair, Hermione thought. I'm glad for Harry, of course I'm glad for Harry—he never knew his parents, and now he's met them—and I had my parents for most of fourteen years, so it's horribly selfish of me even to think—but I wish—

"Hermione," Mrs. Potter said. Hermione looked up. "Your father wants you to have fun and live life. Your mother wants you to keep up with your studies. I suggest you stick with Ron and Harry, they'll be sure to keep you from doing too much of one and not enough of the other."

"Tell them I love them and I'll miss them," Hermione whispered, unable to speak louder.

"They know."

xXxXx

(So how do you like the idea of living life in my head?) Ginny asked.

(Nothing against you, or anyone, but I don't like it much at all.) Harry shivered. (I know Dad said I wasn't hurting you, which means I won't be hurting you, but I can't help thinking—)

(Never mind thinking,) Ginny interrupted, laughing. (Look at Padfoot—something tells me he has absolutely no respect for Moldy-smarts—)

Harry looked, and burst out laughing.

xXxXx

Remus cursed as a flaw in the bark of the tree he was transfiguring burst open. He pressed the edges of the wound together with his free hand, muttered a basic healing spell, and picked up the transfiguration where he'd left off, and then noticed the dark stain on the paleness. Forgot I was all bloody.

Oh well. It's Harry's blood anyway. Can't hurt anything.

xXxXx

James clapped once to get everyone's attention. "All right, you lot. Everybody home before the kids pass out."

"But I'm not sleepy," Harry protested. Danger snickered at his almost spot-on imitation of an overtired four-year-old—almost spot-on because he was clearly trying not to laugh.

"Go home," Lily said, waving them in the general direction from which Danger had come. "We'll still be here when you come back, which had better not be for another hundred years at least."

"You big three may want to carry the little three," James suggested.

"I'm fine," Harry said, stepping away from Lily with obvious reluctance and promptly stumbling and landing face-first in the dirt.

"Fine, nothing," Sirius said, hauling Harry up. "See you later, Prongs, Lily."

"Come on, Neenie," Danger said, going over to Hermione.

"I'll take Ginny, then," Aletha told nobody in particular.

"Oh, Ginny, before you go..." Lily said casually. Danger pricked up an ear. "You know the story of Sleeping Beauty, right? When you get back, think about that with the gender roles reversed."

Judging by the shade of red Danger could see out of the corner of her eye, Ginny was thinking about it now.

xXxXx

"This is just plain freaky," Ron said, looking from the dead Harry on the sofa to the unconscious Harry in Mr. Lupin's arms.

"You're telling me," Mr. Lupin said with feeling, putting Harry down between Ginny and Ron, who scooted over to make room. "I find out my dream girl's real and so's our dream son, I find out my dead friend is alive and my traitor friend was loyal all along, I get caught up in an impossible quest for the Unholy Grails, I find out who my son's biological father is—"

"Who?" Alex asked.

"Later, when we have time to discuss it properly—I'm involved in the killing of many dementors, when no one knew killing them was possible—now I'm waiting for the return to life of someone the resident Healer confirmed dead—"

"Know what'd make this hilarious?" Alex asked.

"No, I can't say I do..."

"If today was Easter."

Mr. Lupin sputtered.

Hermione stirred and blinked hazel eyes. "They're coming back. They're all coming back."

Ron whooped.

Mrs. Danger was next to wake, sitting up only to fall against Mr. Lupin, then Ms. Letha. "Your backyard's missing a sapling," Mr. Lupin informed her. Mr. Black transformed into the big black dog before waking up, amusing everyone. Then Ginny opened brown eyes, then blinked, and her eyes were green, blinked again, and rolled over and kissed Harry.

What—but—she—he—

xXxXx

(I think you just broke your brother,) Harry observed. (Broke me too, I can't even see straight—)

Ginny pulled back. "Someone toss me Harry's glasses."

(Oh.)

Harry took the glasses, jammed them on his nose, and looked around. (Ugh—I look horrible.)

(Think that's maybe because you cut your arm off?)

(Hey, it worked.) Harry concentrated, and what had been his body went up in flames, startling everybody. A moment later, there was nothing but ash. The sofa wasn't even scorched. (I could get used to this.)

(Don't, please, I don't want this to happen again—)

(Me neither.)

The blue glow around Meghan was fading, Harry noticed, and she was quietly singing along to the radio. "'Cause when we're torn apart, shattered and scarred, love has the grace to save us, we're just two tarnished hearts, when in each other's arms, we become saints and angels..."

Sirius barked loudly. Meghan jerked and fell over.

(Oof.) Harry adjusted his position so that Meghan's head wasn't on top of anything bony.

"I vote," Letha said shakily, "that everything that happened this week that nobody'd believe happened, never happened."

"Better idea," Harry said sleepily. "Rewrite last week so it's believable, then say today never happened."

Danger glanced at the clock. "It's five minutes into Friday."

"Fine, Thursday never happened."

"Works for me," Hermione said on a yawn.

"Will it bother anyone if I go to sleep right here?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Don't you dare move," Meghan said tiredly. "You're a good pillow."

"I don't wanna get up either," Danger said, snuggling into Remus.

"Fine, everybody sleep on the floor," Letha grumbled.

Sirius was suddenly human again, stretching out on the carpet. "Why should you? You can sleep on me."

For some reason, everyone started laughing as if that was the funniest joke ever told.

A/N: Reviews are good. Flames are bad. Praise is nice. Constructive criticism is preferred. Questions are welcomed. Proper grammar is appreciated. Email addresses are required if you want a reply. Clear enough?