The time that stretched between the middle of October to the Christmas holidays was fraught with tension. November passed with little fanfare, and the days slid on toward Christmas; the Death Eaters and Voldemort were quiet, and as the days passed Harry's nerves tightened to the breaking point. Voldemort would not allow the deaths of his best Death Eaters go without revenge, and Harry knew that the next move would be worse. He almost wished that Voldemort was not now performing Occlumency against him… he wouldn't mind having a warning. He was only grateful that the Muggleborns had been protected to the best of the abilities of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Mr. Potter!" The ire in Professor Octavius' voice told Harry that this was not the first time that he had been called. "I realize that it is the last day before the holidays, but I would appreciate it if you could pay attention."

Harry forced himself to stop thinking about the Muggleborns and dragged his attention back to his Ancient Runes class. "I'm sorry, Professor." He felt a moment of disorientation. How was it possible that he was still in class and that the entire world had not stopped because of the war with Voldemort? He wondered why the teachers and the parents and the students had not hunkered down and hidden away until the war ended…

Professor Octavius harrumphed. "As I was saying… we're beginning study on the truly abstract principles. Prepare your minds over the holidays, as the next term will be quite taxing for all of you – except, perhaps, Miss Granger, of course."

Hermione beamed and Harry could not help but grin back at her. Daphne Greengrass – who sat far away from them as she had adopted her new role of pureblood enemy for her own safety – flashed them a bright smile. "Thank you, Professor Octavius," she said. Ron nudged Harry, and they shared an exasperated and amused glance.

"Now each rune will evoke feelings," said the professor. "We are not here to discuss these feelings, merely to study, and for this first time that you view them with the knowledge you have gained over the years, I am putting a Silencing Charm on each of you. Clear your minds, and allow the runes to speak to you and to your magic. Write your impressions of the shape… try not to describe what they make you feel."

Harry and Ron exchanged dubious glances. Allow the runes to "speak" to me? Harry thought. Sounds more like something in Professor Trelawney's class. Still, when Professor Octavius passed out three runes each to all of them, he bent his head to the task. The first was "melchiora" which Harry knew meant 'honor'…

He stared at it. It seemed to grow before his eyes until he felt slightly small. Not in a bad, insignificant way… but he remembered how it felt to stand on the beach at Shell Cottage and watch the waves. It felt similar to this, and he could see the crest of a wave in the shape. And yet he also saw a bit of Hogwarts in it… he could see it clearly in his mind's eye as it had been the very first time he had seen it. It made his heart beat rather quickly, and he glanced around at Ron and Hermione. They were both completely engrossed, and did not notice his stare.

He spent the next ten minutes describing the rune for honor, and was not entirely successful at describing the height of Hogwarts, the power of the sea, or the other forces that, like honor, reminded him that he was just a man and subject to a man's foibles, without adding personal touches. Every curve and every line evokes something worth striving for, and yet cannot be completely attained. It imitates the essence of honor, that lofty goal that leaves me reaching for it and never quite grasping it fully. Harry was forced to scratch out line after line as his quill would get away from him every now and again.

Once he was satisfied that his brief composition was as impersonal as he could make it, he pulled the second rune toward him. He smiled wryly when he saw that it was 'ytry' which meant courage. It was even more difficult than honor, and he labored over it. A headache built up in his head, and sweat broke out over his brow. He kept his left hand on his wand, and it seemed to tingle. The runes call to the magic, Harry thought.

There was little time left in the class by the time Harry got to the third rune. Damn, he thought glumly as soon as he recognized it. Emotional pain. How could he not recognize this rune? He had seen it in his dreams, had been haunted by it since the end of his third year. He sighed, prepared himself for a very unpleasant few minutes (he resolved to finish this as quickly as possible), and glanced down at the inscription—

His mouth fell open in shock. Alionay. Love. Not pain. Love. He did not even look at the rune but stared at the etched word beneath it. His mind felt blank. He knew that he had just come across something important, something crucial. And yet he could not grasp his thoughts. They whirled and swirled in his head and he could make neither head nor tail of them. Why had the rune for love been so painful for him?

"Harry?" Hermione's voice startled him so badly that he nearly fell off his chair. "Are you all right?"

Harry looked around. The other students were filing out; Daphne Greengrass disappeared out the door while he watched. Professor Octavius was gathering up papers and runes. "I – I didn't finish, Professor," he said.

Professor Octavius looked down. "Ah, yes," he said kindly. "This one is difficult for some." He did not add anything further.

"Which ones did you have?" Ron asked as Harry gathered up his things. "I had wisdom, temperance, and solidarity. The wisdom one looked a lot like Dumbledore."

Hermione snorted. "Considering the fact that it is theorized that the runes appear differently to different people, I'm not surprised."

Ron grinned at her. "I'm sure it would have shown the same thing to you, Hermione," he told her. "Possibly everyone in this class would've seen Dumbledore, wouldn't they?"

"Point taken," she admitted, and clasped his hand. "I had knowledge"—she slapped Ron in the stomach when he let out a bark of laughter—"camaraderie, and innocence. I saw a book, of course, in knowledge… but also a chessboard and a hand, for some reason… I never figured that out. I'll have to visit the library. Camaraderie… I saw all of us"—she lowered her voice—"you know, the Order of the Phoenix. I swear, I think I even saw Tonks' pink hair."

"What about innocence?" Harry asked when she paused. He was surprised when her cheeks pinked.

"I saw a child," she said. "My child."

Hermione's face took on a luminosity that was almost painful for Harry to witness. Hermione and Ron… they would have children, he was certain of it. They'd have a houseful (or just a few) of freckled, red-haired children with big brains and lots of courage. They'd have Ron's sense of humor, and Hermione's sense of justice… and Harry wouldn't be there for it.

"Let's go to dinner," he said abruptly. He shook his head sharply, unwilling to examine why the thought of his future nieces and nephews made his heart ache.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry found it slightly ironic that the Christmas during this sixth year had the same frosty quality as the one last time, though for very different reasons. Everyone was crammed into Godric's Hollow for a great feast provided by Mrs. Weasley, and everything was nearly perfect… except nearly all the smiles on every Weasley's face was fake.

He could not help but blame Ron and Ginny. He did not like doing so; he loved the both of them very much, and he felt very hypocritical. But he saw the way Mrs. Weasley tried too hard to gain their approval. He saw how none of the others would really meet their eyes – he'd gotten used to not having eye contact with the Weasleys, but seeing their shame made him feel guilty.

I never should have shown them those memories in anger, Harry thought. The situation between himself and the Weasleys was cordial but distant. This was the best that he could hope for. But Ron and Ginny needed their family, and it was rapidly coming to the point when Harry would have to step in the way Sirius and Snape had done for him.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, Harry was still not sure) the situation came to a head in a way that he did not anticipate. It was rather like getting something extremely unpleasant over quickly, he thought later that night as he got into bed. He hoped that the Killing Curse would be just as effective. It didn't hurt last time, he mused. It could've been a lot worse. He did not know whether he was thinking about the rather spectacular Weasley fight, or getting hit with something that most people did not survive.

It began with Ron, of course.

Mrs. Weasley handed out lumpy packages to all of her children. Her hands shook when she came to Ron and Ginny, and Harry felt the tension in the room become so unbearable that he watched Sirius, Remus, and Tonks escape the sitting room. He thought longingly of joining them, but winced when he realized that the situation was about to explode, nine Weasleys were between him and the door, and the chance had passed him by.

Ron very slowly and carefully opened the package that contained the famous Weasley sweater. Considering the fact that Harry knew his best mate as well as he knew himself, this did not bode well. Do not drag me into this, Harry thought at Ron. Do not say a word about the fact that I don't have one.

Ginny had not yet opened hers. It sat on her lap; her hands were folded over it. This was, perhaps, even more ominous than Ron's deliberate actions.

"Sweaters, Mum?" Ron said very quietly.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said. Her voice only trembled a little. Harry felt like covering his ears. Why did I leave my wand in the kitchen? For the first time since he had been living here, Harry wished that he did not feel quite so safe in this place. If he'd thought that Voldemort might come rushing in, he never would have set his wand down beside the mashed potatoes and come into the sitting room. Opening presents sounded like such a good idea, Harry thought glumly. And since he didn't have his wand, he couldn't make himself temporarily sightless and deaf.

"Well," Ron said. "This is a step up from last year, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Ginny murmured.

Harry stayed quiet. They deserved the chance to air their grievances, but he had a feeling that they were going to hurt their family rather badly. He just wished that he'd run out of the room. His muscles actually tensed, and he was ready to spring forward.

Ron leaned back in his chair, affecting a deliberately casual pose. Only Ron, Ginny, and Harry appeared to be breathing. "Last year," he said comfortably. "Remember how last year we were dark? And Harry was an evil maniac?"

"We didn't get a sweater last year," Ginny said. The paper crinkled as she fisted her hands. "Our family obviously didn't trust us enough yet."

"Ginny," Mr. Weasley said in a soft voice.

Harry pressed his lips together. He wanted to intervene… but his wife was hurting. He saw the way the corner of her mouth trembled. She was hurting, had been hurting, and the anger came from the place inside of her who felt betrayed by her entire family except Ron. Perhaps they just needed to talk it out.

"But now we're suddenly the golden children," Ron said in a hard voice. "We travel back in time—"

"ARE YOU GOING TO THROW THAT IN OUR FACES EVERY CHANCE YOU GET?" Mrs. Weasley shouted. Harry blinked and realized that Mrs. Weasley's mouth trembled just like Ginny's. "How many times – I don't"—she put her face in her hands and started to sob—"I don't know what else we can say."

"It's the single greatest regret of my life," Mr. Weasley said firmly. He was gazing at his hands. "And I speak for your mother as well. We were… so blind."

"We were so worried for the two of you," Mrs. Weasley cried into her hands.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Worried about Harry, and how he was turning us dark. We told you over and over again that Harry wasn't dark or evil."

"I know," Mr. Weasley said. Harry was glad to see that he was defending himself. "Don't you think we've thought about this? How many times – and in how many ways – did you tell us?"

"Countless," Ginny said. "And don't mention Harry touching me. I told you then that I'd initiated it. It was a mistake we both made – I told you that."

Harry put his head in his hands. He could tell by the tremor in Ginny's voice and the way Ron breathed slightly quicker than normal that they were well aware of the complexity of the situation. The Weasleys had not trusted; they had turned their backs… but they'd come around with scant proof, they had offered to fight, and they had done everything they could to help ever since. And because they hadn't known about the time travel, it was almost impossible to blame them. But their actions had cut Ron, Ginny, and Harry to the bone.

"And where's Harry's sweater?" Ron asked loudly.

"Don't," Harry said quickly. "Leave me out of this." He turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Don't answer him."

"Harry," Ginny said in a quiet voice. He shook his head.

"I've made my peace," he said in her ear. Unfortunately, Ron was close enough to overhear.

And just like that, Ron and Ginny immediately focused on him. Wrong choice of words, Harry, he told himself. "What do you mean you've made your peace?" Ron asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"Shut up, Ron," Harry said fiercely. He absolutely did not want to talk about the fact that he was slowly coming to realize that his death was coming, and Hermione – brilliant though she was – was not going to reach into another fairy tale and find a miracle for Harry. "Why don't you focus on cutting up your family some more?"

"Are you defending them?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Harry looked around. Mrs. Weasley was still crying; Mr. Weasley had his hand on her shoulder. The older Weasley brothers – even the twins – were solemn and shaken. Ron and Ginny were now standing, and their arms were folded across their chests, and their faces were alight with righteous anger and deep hurt. Harry understood both, but the looks on the Weasleys' faces broke his heart.

Harry sighed. "Yeah. I am."

Ron actually took a step backward.

"It's worse for both of you," Harry said. "I admit that. You're hurting and feeling betrayed. And I agree with you. But"—he gestured to the Weasleys—"look at them. I think," he took a deep breath. "I think that you've got to forgive them and stop punishing them, or… or stop seeing them. Bitterness is a choice, Ron."

There was a long moment of stunned silence.

"Harry's right, Ron," Hermione said softly.

Ron's jaw worked; he looked furious… but his eyes were wet. "Where'd you get that idea?" he asked. "The 'bitterness is a choice' bit."

Harry's mouth twitched. "Snape told me."

Ron was about to open his mouth, possibly to express his shock that Snape would say such a thing, when Mrs. Weasley spoke up. "I think," she whispered. "I think we ought to leave. This isn't – it isn't working, is it? We did too much damage. We're staying in the Order," she said firmly.

Harry watched as one by one, the Weasleys picked themselves up off the floor. Don't let them leave, Harry urged silently.

"We're not going to let you fight this out alone," Mrs. Weasley said. She bent and picked up the sweaters she had made for her children. "But… it was too much to expect. And you don't – you don't really need us anymore, do you?"

"Don't need you anymore?" Ron said. He sounded completely and utterly shocked.

Ginny let out a burst of laughter that bordered on hysteria. She was very close to sobbing, Harry knew. "How can you possibly—"

"We know what you've sacrificed for us!" Mr. Weasley interrupted. "We know and we're never—"

"Hold up," Ron held up his hand. "Traveling back in time wasn't a sacrifice at all. You're dead wrong about that. We lost everyone. Everyone except the three of us. Using the Tears of Merlin was the easiest decision to make."

"You don't – you don't regret it?"

And just like that, Harry watched the rage and hurt begin to fade with alarming rapidity from Ron and Ginny's faces. He wanted to tell them that of course they didn't regret it… they regretted the necessity of it. But he did not feel comfortable speaking up in this moment that was so fraught with emotion.

"Mum," Ginny whispered. "How can you ask that? It's a miracle that we're here. Do you know that sometimes I – sometimes I dream that we're still in that horrible future. And then I see you again… and even though I'm angry and hurt and everything, the first thing I think is how wonderful and amazing it is that we've been given a second chance."

"Yeah," Ron said. "Me too."

Harry closed his eyes briefly, feeling a small surge of guilt that a part of him still wished that he somehow could have brought his Weasleys back with them. And that he could have died for them. But that was an impossible desire, and he shoved the thought away as soon as it flitted across his mind.

Ron nudged Harry. "I can't believe that Snape was right."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Listen," Ron said. "Don't leave." But his family was frozen; they did not appear to be moving anywhere. "Don't. I"—he raked his hand through his bright red hair—"I've been – look, I… what I'm trying to say—"

"Honestly, Ronald!" Hermione said. She sounded exasperated, but the look in her eyes was very tender and gentle. Harry looked away. "You've got the emotional range of a teaspoon…"

"Mum," Ginny said softly. She'd moved forward so that she stood in front of her mother and father. "Dad… I've been a little selfish, I think. I know that I… I have – had – good reasons for being angry. But – hearing that you think that we don't need you… it breaks my heart. Because we need you."

"Even though we weren't there for you when you needed us?" Mr. Weasley asked tentatively. There was a note of hope in his voice that caused a lump in Harry's throat. "When we were blind and a little stupid?"

"The thing is," Ron said. He seemed much shaken that his attitude had caused his parents to think that he didn't need them. "You're here now. And – well, we know what it's like not to have you. So – damn, of course we need you."

Ginny threw herself into her mother's arms just as Ron stepped forward to hug his father. Harry found himself grinning so widely that his cheeks actually hurt. The dissipation of the tension and the rising joy in the room was a palpable force. He threw his arm around Hermione and watched as his wife and Ron rejoined their family. His heart ached a little, and he felt a little lonely, but it added spice to the utter happiness that he felt in that moment. It was enough for him that Ginny and Ron were gifted with this. It really was.

The most noticeably different members of the group were perhaps Fred and George. The moment after they had hugged their brother and sister, they'd retreated to a corner behind the Christmas tree, and were plotting something exceedingly mischievous, judging by the looks on their faces.

"In light of the recent events," Fred boomed once Ron had pulled his sweater over his head.

"We've decided that we need to make a confession," George said.

"We need to come clean," Fred said.

"We're Merlin," they said together.

Harry did not believe it for a moment. He could not say why, exactly. They were smart enough, certainly. But it simply didn't fit the pieces of the puzzle. Not by a long shot. But… what if they were playing a very deep game? He glanced around and saw a mixture of disbelief and uncertainty on everyone's faces.

"We used the – er—"

"Trojan Horse method," Fred supplied in a stage whisper.

"Yeah, that," George winked at him. "We used the Trojan Horse method. We've been taking turns possessing each other—"

"Yes," Fred smiled broadly. "What you are thinking is actually true: sometimes I am George and he is Fred."

"We've gotten a bit confused ourselves," George said. "What with two Georges running around—"

"—or two Freds," Fred said indignantly. "Sometimes I'm the one who comes back."

Harry snorted, and Ginny let out a little giggle. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but they were alight with laughter. Nearly all the doubt had faded – of course the twins weren't Merlin. Though they could just be burying the truth even further. But Harry still thought that he was the one to come back in time, but nothing was really set in stone—

"That is impossible," Hermione said. Then, doubtfully, "isn't it? It isn't really the two of you?"

Fred and George just smiled slyly. "How do you know it isn't?"

We don't know, Harry thought. I wonder if we'll ever find out…

--

--

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait, but I've been going through and making sure that I know what I'm doing. I am pleased to say that someone has guessed the identity of Merlin! A few of you have questioned me about the sequel: yes, it is Merlin's story. Speaking of Merlin, an incredibly perceptive reader asked me if Merlin's existence in the story changed the prophecy at all. Yes, it most certainly did! One little word (I'm thinking you can guess it) was added.

Also! As an added bonus, I will soon be revising Voldemort's interlude to include his reaction to the rain of bodies. I will let everyone know in an author's note when this has happened (though it may not be until AFTER Backward With Purpose is complete). This will also explain some of the questions you may have regarding the fact that what happened in Azkaban doesn't seem to have been made public knowledge.

I've also been getting A LOT of messages about the Deathly Hallows. looks around Hmm. I think that we all have our own opinions and perceptions. And keep in mind that this is an Alternate Universe story.

Some of you may have noticed that this chapter is 1) not as long as the others, and 2) doesn't have that much action in it. I thought about having this chapter and the next be in one, but I decided that I wanted this burst of sweetness before the hammer falls. :D

SOMEONE SHOOT ME NOW! THIS CHAPTER IS A RANK PIECE OF CRAP! Why I ever thought I could write anything… inarticulate sound of frustration