(12/1/2012) … All over now except for the epilogue.

It's been a long journey, and I must admit I'm a bit sad to see it end. But particularly as an avid reader myself, I'm also very glad that I have been given (and made) the chance to bring it to a point of completion.

And without further ado …

# # # Chapter 26 # # #

:That's him!: Petunia shouted. :That monster who attacked my family!: She paused for a moment, and added with something that sounded almost like guilt, :… Our family.:

:Yes, that's Voldemort.: Harry responded absently, as he stared steadily at the man, who had straightened but otherwise still looked unconcerned as he looked back at the just-opened door.

"It appears we have some uninvited guests." Voldemort said, appearing as though he was looking straight into Harry's eyes. But he was still Disillusioned … On the other hand, if Professor Dumbledore can see through invisibility cloaks … "Would you care to show yourselves? It's terribly unfriendly otherwise."

Or perhaps not … perhaps he's simply good at guessing location and height. Harry reversed the Disillusionment Charm and stepped forward, pitching his voice to be clearly audible from all the way across the room where Voldemort sat. "Speaking of being friendly, I have a couple of friends that I'd like to bring away with me, so if you would be so kind as to allow them to depart …?"

"And who are you to request this boon of me, little girl?" The man asked, settling back into a more indolent posture in his chair, amusement writ large on his body.

"One who has escaped your reach more than once before." Harry said, quite enjoying being cryptic – it was nice to be on the annoying side for once.

That caused Voldemort to lean forward. Harry thought he might actually recognize Petunia, since she had, after all, been there when he had attacked on Christmas Eve. Apparently even the ones that got away had been beneath his notice, though, as after a moment it became clear that he had no memory of Petunia, at least. "Your favorite color is burgundy." He added, with the broadest, most deliberately annoying shit-eating grin he could muster.

That brought Voldemort to his feet with a glare whose force he could feel even from all the way across the room. "You."

Harry hardly had time to be smug, though, because in what seemed like the blink of an eye Voldemort had whipped his wand out and pointed it straight at Harry. "Avada –"

Harry dove out of the way. "Move!"

"—Kedavra!" The sickly green light went flying through the double-doors just as Harry cleared them; from the way it flew onward to splash against the far wall (which was a pretty fair distance away – Harry had partially blanked just how ridiculously strong Voldemort was in this time period), it looked like everyone else had either already been out of the way, or had moved with as much alacrity as Harry.

"Geez, Harry." James said – voice also obviously pitched to be audible inside the room. "What'd you do to piss him off? Unless he's really that sensitive about his favorite color."

… Harry should have known that James would jump in on any opportunity to commit mischief.

"Though really, burgundy?" Sirius contributed. "That's an old lady color."

Harry risked a glance back inside the double doors – then jerked his head back as several spells came flying at his head. Given the sources, probably at least one of them would have taken his head off.

His brief look had, however, been enough to note something very encouraging – Bill and Claudius were no longer in the middle of the circle of Death Eaters – or at least, were no longer visible. :Huh. I hadn't thought that he'd let them keep their wands. On the other hand, I suppose he was trying to recruit them, not capture them.:

Voldemort appeared to notice this not long after Harry did, as he suddenly yelled, "You fools, don't let them escape! After them!"

Harry shared a look with his father, then turned back to look at the rest of their group – now pretty much all visible again. James gave a thumbs up, Sirius grinned, even Peter and Remus looked eager. Harry himself couldn't entirely suppress the excitement that bubbled up from deep within him – he was scared, yes, and nervous, but, well … he'd managed to take Voldemort out for good once, and confronted him a bunch of other times; it was getting to the point where it didn't feel quite right if he hadn't been in mortal danger at least once per year. And, well, this year has been stranger and … shorter than most, but it's April now, so I suppose that's close enough.

The Hufflepuff contingent looked a bit more obviously frightened, but still determined, and Snape and Violet shared a roll of the eyes and a huffed "Gryffindors."

Then the first of the Death Eaters reached the doors, and Harry's world narrowed to blocking, dodging, and doing his best to return fire when and where he could. The first several times he cast using his new wand, he had to make a concerted effort not to let himself get distracted by just how much more powerful the spells felt. Before long, though, he was being pressed sufficiently that even the increase in power ended up being shoved to the back of his mind – the same as every other unnecessary thought.

Before long, he'd utterly lost track of the other members of the group, except for the occasional momentary glimpse. A flash of Snape, using some spell he'd never heard of before, whose effects often seemed to be nearly as vicious as those of the ones they were fighting. A flash of James and Sirius tag-teaming groups of Death Eaters with a madcap array of high level spells, joke spells that the Death Eaters seemed to have no idea how to deal with, and at least in James's case, transfiguration of random objects into shields, or projectiles, or (it being James) more joke materials.

At one point he thought he saw – definitely heard – one of the girls he didn't know well go down with a shriek of pain. Not long after he saw Ronnie and Edwin standing in protective formation over the location he thought he'd heard the scream from and had just enough spare brain power to think Huh, probably Elle who went down then – I hope she's okay. Then he was sucked back into paying his full attention to his own opponents.

For all that he'd been the one to most obviously attract Voldemort's ire, James and Sirius were being so much more visibly obnoxious to the Death Eater contingent as a whole that the bulk of the attention shifted towards them, leaving Harry still in difficulty – he was only a fourth-year, after all – but somehow, with liberal use of the same dodging skills he'd developed all his life in games of Harry-Hunting

(:Huh: He thought he heard Petunia say, very quiet and strangely thoughtful … but really, she was the least of his concerns at the moment)

and what few low-level shielding spells he did know, he somehow managed to both keep his own skin intact and occasionally get a few hits of his own in.

He realized when he saw the empty chair that he'd also lost track of where Voldemort was – which seemed like an even worse problem than not knowing offhand where his allies were – and then the answer presented itself when he turned around and found himself almost face-to-face with his nemesis.

Harry's mind blanked as Voldemort grinned, the evilest smile he'd ever seen, and he just threw out the first thing that he could think of.

… In hindsight, there had probably been a better choice than Wingardium Leviosa, but it had at least been so off the wall that Voldemort hadn't had time to counter it before it took effect, and the look on his face as he lifted off into the air was worth it.

That moment of shock only lasted for a moment, however; his face transmuted to rage as he clipped out the counterspell with such force that Harry almost thought he could feel a shockwave pass by him as the man came back down to earth. Harry pre-emptively ducked away from the counter-attack he knew was coming – likely to be far more painful than a simple Killing Curse given what he'd just done – and then before he knew it, he'd been swallowed back up in the fray, and lost track of Voldemort once again.

He saw Peter at one point – just in time to stun a Death Eater in the back, who had been about to shoot Peter in the back with something likely a great deal more lethal. His friend turned as the body crashed to the ground – though how he had been able to hear that in the general din of shouted spells and other battle noises, Harry had no clue – to first smile his thanks, and then return the favor.

Harry, recognizing Crabbe Sr. in the opponent Peter had taken down (temporarily – the problem with stunning spells was that the Death Eaters were beginning to wise up to the fact that in a lot of cases, that was the worst the Hogwarts contingent were using, and to revive those Death Eaters who had been stunned), breathed a sigh of relief – and spared a moment he didn't really have to think about how strangely the world worked, when in his old life it would have been Wormtail standing side-by-side with Crabbe Sr. in trying to take him down.

Edwin was the one to rescue Harry from his inattention this time. Harry waved his appreciation, and Edwin shouted something that Harry didn't quite catch but involved the words 'Petunia' and 'kill you'. :Protective, isn't he?: Harry asked idly.

:Shut up.: Petunia said, though she felt strangely pleased. :And don't you have more interesting things to pay attention to than chatting with me?:

:… Fair enough.: And Harry went back to ducking, weaving, shielding, and generally doing his best to not get killed as he simultaneously did his best to try and figure out where Bill and Claudius had disappeared off to – no sign, so hopefully they'd Disillusioned themselves and found a handy corner to hide in – and try to make sure Voldemort was not currently aiming at him or at any of his friends.

One Death Eater stumbled into him from behind, with enough force that he fell to the ground and his wand, despite his desires and his belated attempt to keep hold, went flying out of his hands. :Shit.: He and Petunia thought, simultaneously – but then almost as though he were still in control of their shared body, Petunia went scrambling after the wand as quickly as she could.

:You don't mind being stuck watching for so long?: Harry couldn't help but ask.

Petunia yelped as a spell went flying directly over her head, and fell into an awkward roll that put her almost into reach of the wand – until a stray movement by someone's foot sent it flying in an entirely new direction. :In this mess? You can have it! You're the only one with any hope of getting us out of it alive, after all, and I'm quite happy to be alive and would prefer – OOF – to stay that way.:

:You don't regret coming?:

:What, and sit at home waiting to find out what sort of disaster this mission turned into – and believe me, from my perspective this looks like a hell of a mess? If we're all being taken home in body bags, I'd prefer to be here to see it happen.:

She finally managed to get her fingers on the wand, and Harry slammed back into control, tightening his grip lest it slip again. He stumbled to his feet, wincing at the new pain in his side – he had no idea whether it was intentional or not, but a booted foot had caught Petunia as she scrambled after the wand, almost sending her sprawling again – and looked around, trying to regain his bearings as he simultaneously also tried to figure out who was about to start shooting at him (plenty of people) and what (he probably didn't want to find out).

… Wherever Bill and Claudius are, I hope they're not in the middle of this mess, too …

# # # # #

Tom's grudging respect for the young Malfoy scion was threatening to turn into genuine fondness – it had been he who had had the presence of mind to Disillusion the two of them and drag William into an out-of-the way corner just as the rest of the room blew up, while Tom himself was still trying to figure out what sort of command he could shout at William to give him the idea that disappearing would be a really good plan right now.

Still, he had to hand it to Harry – the kid had shown up in the nick of time, just as Tom's own luck was beginning to wear thin. He had to admit that once William had figured out that he was there largely because the elder Malfoy was under the impression that he was still under the diary's control, he'd done a … not completely execrable job of acting Slytherin.

Between that and Tom's shouted answers to his older self's questions, which seemed to have been doing a slightly better job of communicating themselves (perhaps because William had been so desperate for an answer he was willing to accept even one that appeared to appear out of nowhere), they had been … a lot closer to pulling off believability than Tom had had any right to expect. Still, Tom knew himself, and he could tell that his older self's patience and inclination to believe had been wearing thin – William was just a bit too slow to answer, and overall still too Gryffindor.

So it was a good thing that Harry had shown up when he did – though Tom could argue a lot more with his methods. Tossing the doors open, provoking my older self – though that was pretty funny, who knew that my older self was that easily upsettable? Doesn't he realize how easily that can be used to take advantage of him? – and then jumping into the fray like it was some sort of schoolyard brawl? Gryffindors …

Still, although the Malfoy boy had made a good first step, as it was they were still sitting here in a corner, hiding behind some sort of fancy statue that Tom was sure had had some artistic meaning before a chunk of its arm had been blown off by a stray curse … and as far as Tom could tell, just waiting for someone to win. Which honestly? Not a bright plan, because while he thought he'd counted nine other people with Harry (and how on Earth had he managed to gather that many? … While in the form of some gangly horse-faced girl, no less), that still meant the Death Eaters outnumbered them at last three to one, and that wasn't even taking into account his older self.

Who appeared mostly content to hold himself apart from the fray as being beneath him (… literally, in the case of that one encounter with Harry, speaking of things that were far more hilarious than they should be given that that was theoretically himself out there), but that could easily change at any time – such as whenever he got a clear shot at Harry.

In summary … "MAYBE WE SHOULD GET OUT OF HERE." He shouted, for about the third time, and wished that he dared take his attention off the view window long enough to go get a glass of water. All this shouting was beginning to make his throat a bit sore.

"Do you think we should go help?" William whispered to the Malfoy kid, and Tom resisted the urge to facepalm. Gryffindors.

"We're third years, Bill." The Malfoy kid – clearly far more intelligent than his friend – responded. "I don't think we'd be a whole lot of help, and we'd probably just get ourselves killed in the bargain. Which, given that they apparently came to rescue us …"

"I wonder how they knew we were here?" William mused.

Tom sighed. "You're welcome."

The Malfoy shook his head. "I have no idea … I don't even recognize several of the older ones, do you?"

William shook his head.

Tom rolled his eyes. Gryffindor. Then blinked. … Maybe if I make the suggestion more Gryffindor? He cleared his throat experimentally and then tried again. "MAYBE WE SHOULD GET OUT OF HERE. SO THAT WE CAN GO GET HELP. AND RESCUE EVERYONE. BEFORE THEY GET THEIR FOOL SELVES KILLED."

One of the ones he didn't recognize – which to be fair, was pretty much everyone except the horse-faced girl (who he only recognized as Harry; he didn't know the host) and Snape – went down screaming as someone's Cruciatus hit. Then there was a mess of action he didn't fully see, but that seemed to include at least one curse from the 'good side' and another of the people (he thought maybe Potter? He vaguely recalled seeing the Head Boy once or twice during his stint in real control of William's body) actually physically tackling the man. Points for unexpected tactics, but none for finesse. Honestly, Gryffindors.

Speaking of, he turned his attention back to the one closer at hand. "Maybe we should try to leave." William said doubtfully. "I hate to abandon everyone, but … if we can get help …?"

Amazing! That actually worked! Tom thought, then grimaced. Ugh, thinking like a Gryffindor …

"That sounds like a great idea." The Malfoy boy said. "In this mess I doubt anyone will notice, and, well, much as I'd like to have faith in them … they seem to be holding out so far, but I don't know how long that will last."

"That's the Marauders out there." William said with pride. "Even the professors are wary of their pranks, I've heard. They can hold out as long as they need to." He hesitated. "That said …"

The Malfoy boy stood, and offered William a mostly-invisible hand up, which the boy took, and then didn't let go. "Let's go."

Bill nodded. "It's a good thing you drew me that rough map last night when we were talking about the kitchen, even if being locked in meant we couldn't actually go there. Even if we get separated, I think I should be able to figure out a way out."

"You're welcome." Tom said again, and allowed himself a sigh of relief. Finally.

# # # # #

Harry was on the opposite side of the room when the screaming started. Peter!

But before he could get anywhere near in range to help, Sirius and James made it unnecessary – Sirius by casting a hex (from the effects, rather more vicious than the joke spells he and James had mostly been using to incapacitate their opponents), and James by outright tackling the man.

He caught a glimpse of Sirius helping Peter back to his feet before his attention was forcibly pulled back to the subject at hand by three hexes coming his direction at once. He ducked, shot a stunning spell at one of them, and took a page out of his father's book (more or less) and kicked the caster of the third in the knee. He went down with a howl of pain – apparently, it was more effective than Harry would have given it credit for.

Then suddenly it was as though the Death Eaters surrounding him melted away, as he once again came face to face with Voldemort. He remembered the night that had started this all and was struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu, even though in reality the situations were almost completely different.

For one thing, this Voldemort looked a lot more human. For another, he was visibly angry.

… For a third, he already knew better than to use the Imperius Curse against Harry.

"Avada Kedav—"

Harry ducked and grabbed something off the ground – looked like a stone arm, maybe from one of the statues? – that he could hopefully use to block if Voldemort readjusted his aim in time, then made a sharp dodge left and hoped that no one he knew and/or liked was standing behind him. No time to check. "Expel—"

"—ra." The sickly green light went flying safely past him. Harry would have turned to look and see if anyone else had been hit by it, but he didn't need Petunia's sharp :Not the time: (and when did she get so good at back-seat driving a crazy magical battle?) to know that, well, it wasn't.

"—liarmus." Unfortunately, his spell went wide as well.

"Will you stand still?!" Voldemort demanded, clearly exasperated near to his breaking point.

"And let you kill me? I don't think so." Harry dodged the next spell as well, doing his best not to show his worry on his face – for all his bravado and Harry Hunting experience, all the running and dodging was beginning to take its toll. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up … To distract himself from his worry, he took the stone arm he still held in his left hand and threw it at Voldemort.

It hit, surprisingly enough – his left arm was definitely not his strong throwing arm. Voldemort shook his right arm out – it hadn't hit his wand arm, sadly – as his glare gained a notch or two of murderousness. "You –"

But whatever he had been about to say, Harry never learned, because at that moment, he heard a different voice.

"Kawo—"

There was really no reason he should have been able to hear it, as it hadn't been pitched to carry, and there had not been any temporary lull in battle noise that could explain it. Perhaps it was just that he could feel the power building up, as he looked up towards the front of the room and the young man aiming at Voldemort's back with a look of heartbreaking resolution on his face, and forgot Voldemort entirely.

"Remus, no! Don't do it!" The cry ripped its way out of him, and was maybe in the end the only thing that saved him, as it distracted Voldemort from whatever his next curse would have been (certainly Harry was in no state to notice or care, so he would have been a sitting duck), as he turned to look and see what had caused his young nemesis to go so far as to forget he had been dueling (if it could be called that) with Lord Voldemort, and gave Remus just enough time to pronounce that last word.

"—Kedavre."

The black light shot out and Voldemort, seemingly unable to comprehend that someone had used that curse on him, stood still just long enough for it to hit. Then he began to scream, a sound that unlike Peter's screams before seemed to echo throughout the room strangely, bringing the entire rest of the fight to a halt as friends and foes alike stared at the Dark Lord, his screams climbing in pitch, exactly the way Harry remembered from the first time. He tore his eyes away and pushed his way over to where Remus stood, staring at Voldemort with a satisfied look on his face.

"Remus. Why?" Harry asked, unable to hide the emotions in his tone – he wasn't even sure what all of them were, just that they were deep and swirling and formed in large parts of No Remus don't go!

Remus blinked, and looked over at Harry as though surprised to see him standing there, as Voldemort's scream climbed past the audible registers to be – as far as anyone in the room could tell – silent, though anyone still watching could tell he was still screaming.

Then smiled.

Then collapsed into a pile of dust.

Harry dropped the wand, no longer caring whether he was in control – no longer caring about anything, really – anything except throwing himself at the walls of Petunia's mind, trying his hardest to remember the twist of thought and power that would allow him to leave – to follow Remus wherever he had gone.

Except it felt like he had hands holding him back – Petunia's hands, he realized, even as she knelt to pick the wand back up, wrenching him back into control. :No.: She said to him. :I will not let you leave. Not here and now, when we are still surrounded on all sides by evil men who will surely wake up momentarily to realize what has happened. Not when I have no way to defend myself without you. You can do your disappearing act later, after we've all gotten out of this alive.:

:But –:

:Whine later. Concentrate on getting us out of here now. Are you leading this group or aren't you?:

The Death Eaters were beginning to come out of their shock … and turning towards the direction from which the spell had come, murder in their eyes. (Well. Even moreso than before.)

:But –:

The direction of the raised platform on which stood an empty chair, a pile of dust … and Harry.

:If you're just going to stand there, drop the wand so I can duck us out of the way. Before you get us both killed.:

Thankfully, that was when the cavalry arrived.

# # # # #

When the dust all settled, the impromptu rescue group came out of their so-called rescue a great deal more unscathed than they had had any right to expect.

Sirius had added another slice to his left arm and an awful looking burn on his left leg.

James had a matching burn on his right leg and from the way he was holding his head, had apparently hit it pretty hard (possibly during one of his tackles of recalcitrant Death Eaters).

Peter was looking shaky from the Cruciatus, in addition to the limp that he'd picked up back at the very beginning of the battle and a handful of comparatively insignificant scrapes.

Elle was perhaps the worst off, having been struck by several nasty curses that only quick thinking and unexpected first aid knowledge on the part of Ronnie had prevented from being considerably more debilitating. Ronnie and Edwin, on the other hand, had come out of it with only minor injuries.

Violet and Severus were perhaps the least damaged of the lot, having stayed closer to the sidelines of the mess and been choosier about their targets and their own placement – though Severus had ended up with a messy-looking gash across his forehead and some hair lost from where he didn't quite manage to dodge quite far enough out of the way. It bled far more horribly than the depth of the wound really warranted; a fact that put Severus in an even more horrible mood than this mess had already, due to having to keep swiping blood out of his eyes. At least until Peter had offered him his spare handkerchief, at which point he was just in a foul mood because he had to go around holding a handkerchief to his forehead.

And Harry?

When the Headmaster had arrived with what seemed like the entire contingent of Hogwarts professors behind him, he had quietly tucked his wand into Petunia's pocket and relinquished control. She had a few bumps and bruises – mostly from their impromptu scramble across the floor for Harry's wand – and a slice across the top of her left forearm that frankly, neither of them had noticed until it was all over, and neither could quite place when or where they had acquired it.

Harry sighed in relief – though no one but Petunia could hear it – when he saw Bill and Claudius standing with the professors – near the back of the group, safely protected, but apparently insistent on being there to see the Death Eaters rounded up and taken away, and to make sure that all of their erstwhile rescuers had been rescued themselves.

Despite their relatively light injuries, though, a pall lay over the group of rescuers. One that Professor Dumbledore clearly noticed, and clearly counted up the Marauders and came up with one short, and asked the obvious question – "Where's Mr. Lupin?"

The group turned as one to look at the pile of dust that lay just beyond Voldemort's body, but no one had the heart to reply until Petunia took it on herself to be the heartless one (he'd seemed like a nice guy, but it wasn't like she'd known him, after all) and pointed. "He's that pile of dust over there."

Professor Dumbledore looked clearly saddened by the news – though not, entirely, surprised. "I had hoped that this generation would not need to make such great sacrifices." He murmured, as though to himself. Then it was as if he noticed for the first time who exactly was speaking, and did a double-take. "Miss Evans? What are you doing here?"

"… And who is this?" Another professor – Harry didn't recognize him – asked, looking down at Voldemort's body. "He seems to have been the only other casualty … and a Death Eater, I assume."

"That?" Petunia offhandedly, turning to the man and ignoring Dumbledore's question completely. "Oh, that's just Voldemort." She said, with malicious satisfaction that reminded Harry of darker days … and once again got him to thinking, a bit awed, about how much had changed.

And then the uproar started.

# # # # #

After he had calmed down, Harry found that there were good reasons other than keeping Petunia alive (which, it had turned out, she wouldn't have really needed his help with after all) to stick around a little while longer.

He bore the brunt of James' and Sirius' anger with aplomb – knowing it was the simple truth that without his presence in their lives, not only would Remus not have been there to throw his life away, he never would have thought of using that particular spell to do it.

There was a part of Peter, he knew, who blamed him too, but having befriended Harry and having felt enriched by that friendship, and knowing that Remus had felt the same way, and knowing as well that Harry blamed himself – almost hated himself – more for matters having come to this point than anyone else ever could, Peter found he couldn't be too hard on his friend.

Severus had simply pulled him aside at one point – well, pulled Petunia aside, but it was clear to both of them who he was actually talking to – and looked into his eyes and said simply, "You're going after him, aren't you?"

Petunia had stuck her hand into her pocket to touch the wand that was now ever-present there (almost as though she were a witch in truth), and Harry had replied, just as simply, "Yes."

Snape had nodded, and half-smiled. "I guess we won't need the adoption papers after all, then."

And Harry had laughed. "You never know. I have no idea where we'll end up once I find him. … If I find him."

Snape had rolled his eyes. "You'll find him."

Then there was the funeral for Remus. It was a grand affair, as befit the dead savior of the Wizarding World. Harry watched it with bittersweet eyes, wanting once again to disappear, and simultaneously wanting to watch it through to the end. After all, he thought to himself, I never got to see my own funeral. If I find Remus – when I find Remus – the least I can do is tell him about his own.

At some point it came out that Remus had been a werewolf, and suddenly there was a minor storm of parents angry at the perceived threat to their children of there having been a werewolf student at Hogwarts … and a much larger storm of support for werewolf rights legislation and additional funding for research into a cure for lycanthropy. Because, after all, that werewolf student had also been the savior of the Wizarding World.

Harry wondered if Remus would have approved. He wondered, too, if Remus was watching – just as invisible to Harry and the rest of his friends as Harry had been to Ron and Hermione, so close, yet separated by an insurmountable barrier.

At one point, Harry sought Bill Weasley out, the redhead looking up at the tall Muggle girl who, for some reason no one had quite been able to figure out, still carried around a wand. (Given that she had also been an eye-witness to Voldemort's defeat, most people were also somewhat intimidated by the thought of just asking. To the few who did, she just smirked and said "It's a souvenir of my time here.") She had one hand in her pocket grasping that wand, now, as she looked down at Bill. "I thought you should know," she said, "that he's still in there."

Bill frowned. "Who's …?" The light dawned, and he gaped. "How did you know about that? … And how do you know?"

The girl just smiled. "Because I was in there for a while, too – how did you think we knew where to come to rescue you?"

Bill gaped some more – he and Claudi had spent hours contemplating this very question, but the answer made even less sense than anything they'd managed to come up with. "Is he … dangerous?"

The older girl had laughed. "He's Voldemort's younger self – I think he'd be insulted if you called him 'safe'. But if he hasn't taken you back over yet, you have him well and truly trapped in there – which is a position of power, even if he'll refuse to admit it. I think if you can figure out a way to communicate with him, you'll find that he's more amenable to compromise than you might expect."

Bill looked as though something had just occurred to him. "… Is that why I kept being able to answer You-Know-Who's questions correctly? I thought it was just old memories from when I was possessed, or getting lucky, or something."

The older girl looked into his eyes, but also somehow beyond, and Bill got the impression that she wasn't talking to him at all anymore. "Thank you for keeping them alive until I got there. And I'm sorry it took as long as it did."

Bill blinked. "I think … maybe he just said 'You're welcome'?" He said, and then even more uncertainly, "… And something about Gryffindors?"

The older girl laughed. "That sounds like him. And it sounds like you're well on your way to getting along." She smirked. "And just remember, if he gets too out of hand, or you just don't want to deal with the trouble anymore – your mother's an excellent exorcist."

# # # # #

Harry didn't end up needing to seek out a moment alone with his grandfather – the man came to him.

First he hugged his eldest daughter until she flailed and pled asphyxiation in addition to terminal embarrassment. Then he held her at arm's length and looked at her, solemnly. "I hear you've done magic, Pet. And since I know you're as Muggle as your poor parents are … is Harry in there, too?"

Petunia simply nodded, and touched Harry's wand, and Harry smiled shyly at his grandfather. "Yes, sir, it's me."

"I think I've told you more than once to stop calling me sir." The man said, and hugged his daughter and grandson again. "I don't know whether to scold you for putting my eldest daughter in so much danger … or thank you for bringing her out the other side, safe and sound."

Petunia requested back control – more politely than Harry expected, but then his aunt had been pretty much a constant surprise since he landed in her head – and he gave it. "Dad," she complained, "it was my idea too."

:… And I'm not sure I could have done it without your help.: Harry admitted. :So … thanks.:

Thomas Evans also appeared to recognize that Harry was not going to stick around for much longer; was in fact surprised that he'd stayed as long as he had. At the end of their conversation he engulfed his daughter and grandson in yet another hug and quietly said, "I assume I probably won't see you again."

Petunia touched Harry's wand and Harry hugged back just as hard with his free arm and admitted, "Probably not."

His grandfather had stepped back then, and smiled, and said, "Well, then, I'll be happy I've had the time with you that I have, and try to be content to wait until I have other grandkids to spoil."

:DAD!: Petunia wailed.

Harry laughed. "You know your daughter is currently trying to die of embarrassment again, right?"

Thomas grinned. "One of the best parts of being a father is getting to embarrass your children." Then sobered. "Be well, Harry."

Harry shrugged, and smiled wryly, and said "I'm dead, you know. But … thanks. I'll try."

"That's all I ask." He paused. "Well. If you ever find yourself in the neighborhood again, drop by and say hi, will you?"

"If I can, I will." Even if you can't see me.

# # # # #

And finally, finished with the things he felt he had to do, and the talks he felt he needed to have with the people he felt he needed to see, Harry snuck away from Hogwarts one fine sunny day – a rarity in late April – to Hogsmeade, and from there via Floo to the Burrow.

Molly Weasley – looking far more harried than Harry had ever seen her before, but of course the twins were less than a month old at the moment – greeted him at the door with, "Petunia Evans, correct? Current host to Harry No-Last-Name? I've been expecting you."

"I thought the Headmaster was being suspiciously quiet." Harry commented as he followed her inside. "But that is correct. If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping for your services."

"You've put him in a difficult situation, possessing a defenseless Muggle." Mrs. Weasley commented. "I'm glad to see that you've come to me before he had to take matters into his own hands."

:I'm not defenseless.: Petunia growled.

:Just as well the Headmaster thinks so, though, isn't it?: Harry pointed out. :You can prove him wrong after I'm gone.:

:Oh, believe me, I will.:

Mrs. Weasley set up the supplies she needed on her kitchen table – a place that now brought up conflicting memories for Harry, not just those of spending time here with Ron and his family, but also of that oddly congenial time he'd spent trapped playing nice with Tom Riddle inside Bill Weasley's head. (And he wondered if he'd done the right thing, by telling Bill he thought he could work with Riddle, instead of recommending he get his head cleaned out right then and there and let that be the end of it. He supposed only time would tell.)

And then, with perhaps the least fanfare of any of his exits from this time period, as Mrs. Weasley completed the ceremony, Harry simply … disappeared.

25 November 2012