When G arrived, Nell was sitting on a bench outside the door to Harry's room at St. Mungo's. She looked, frankly, as exhausted as G felt, though she was trying to cover that by focusing on the tablet in her hands.

"How is he?" G asked when he was close enough.

Nell almost dropped the tablet she'd been studying. After a moment to collect herself, she set the tablet aside and flung her arms around him. His came around her in return, and for long moments, they simply held each other.

Finally, Nell said, "Nate's with him."

"How's that going?"

"No idea, but given that he's a lot like you …"

"Probably not well," G finished.

"I doubt he'll be as bad as you are."

G couldn't help snorting. "You might be surprised - our childhoods were too alike."

Nell finally stepped back, though G kept one arm around her as much for his own comfort as for hers as they sat together on the bench.

"How are things with the Queen?" Nell asked.

"She's conducting a most thorough examination of my magical government, as she put it. Interim Minister for Magic Augusta Longbottom is only to happy to assist in the task." G shook his head. "Between the two of them, I doubt anyone will survive unscathed. I'm expecting a full reorganization of the Ministry of Magic. Maybe more."

"More?" Nell asked. "What more could there be?"

"Hetty's meeting with her today," G said, "to talk about magical incident response teams - groups kind of like us, to handle threats from magicals in the non-magical world."

"Wow."

"Mm." G lost track of how long they sat with each other. Eventually, the door to Harry's room opened and Nate Getz stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.

"Callen." Nate offered his hand and G rose to shake it.

"Thanks for coming so quickly," G said. "How is he?"

"Moody. Withdrawn," Nate replied. "Grieving - all of which is to be expected. He doesn't talk about it much, but he does talk about other things. It's a start, and I'm confident he'll adjust."

"Eventually," Nell said.

"Eventually," Nate agreed. "He might talk to you more than he does me."

"We'll listen," Nell said immediately.

G smiled at that but offered Nate a sober nod. Of them all, Harry was most likely to talk to him, and of course G would listen.

"Physically," Nate continued, "he's almost normal. He has a few lingering effects from the Cruciatus, but those should fade in the next week or so."

"He can be discharged, then?" Nell asked.

Nate nodded. "I'll make sure the staff knows I've cleared him."

"Thanks again, Nate," G murmured as the other man walked away. Then he turned to Nell. "I'll take care of getting Harry out of here, if you want?"

Nell gave him a wry look. "Because you think he'll talk to you more than he will me. Right."

"And because I want to confirm that godforsaken prophecy orb is dark, and you're not cleared to access the Department of Mysteries."

"See you back at the hotel, then?" Nell asked.

G sighed. "Calling Brown's a hotel is like calling a car a skateboard. It's way too fancy to be just a hotel."

"It could be worse," Nell said. "She could have gone for the Savoy."

G couldn't suppress a shudder, and Nell quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Sometimes, it's hard to believe she's Romani," he said before bending to kiss her. "We should be there by teatime."

Then she was gone and G was striding into Harry's room.

Harry's room was currently charmed to a light teal color that, G had been told, was supposed to encourage healing. The two visitor chairs were a darker shade of that same teal. Bright sunshine appeared to stream through the windows, though G knew the day outside to be overcast.

Harry reclined on the bed, his eyes closed, looking pale and smaller than G remembered. G almost hated to disturb him, but if it were him in that bed, G would want to get out of it as soon as possible, so he said softly, "Harry?"

"'M awake," Harry replied without opening his eyes.

G crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. "Harry."

"I said I'm awake."

"Open your eyes and prove it." G kept his tone mild, and after a moment, Harry half-glared up at him.

"Happy now?" Harry asked.

"No," G answered, and that clearly startled the younger man. "I'm not happy at all."

"What's wrong? Is someone hurt? Nell? Hetty?"

"Everyone's fine, as far as I know," G said. "I meant, I'm not happy with what I asked you to do in the cemetery."

"I understand," Harry said. "You and Sam explained it was the lesser of two evils."

"But the lesser of two evils is still evil," G said. "I'm sorrier than I can ever say that you had to do that - that I had to ask you to kill a man."

Harry drew a shuddery breath. "It would've happened eventually, wouldn't it? I mean, I've been thinking of joining the Navy."

"Maybe, maybe not," G replied. "A lot of people serve their entire careers without combat - on the ground, in the water, or in the air."

"But I accepted the possibility," Harry said. "So I don't have any right to complain, do I?"

"Of course you do," G said, and smiled at Harry's startled expression. "You have the right to do anything you want, as long as you don't hurt anyone else or break any laws. That doesn't mean you'd be correct, or that anyone will agree with you, but you have the right to."

Harry huffed. "You know you sounded like Hetty just then."

G laughed. "I'd apologize, but I take it as a compliment."

Silence fell between them, and G took the opportunity to study Harry more closely. Harry's eyes sparkled, just a little, and a hint of color had come back to his cheeks. G counted it a win.

"So," he said. "Want to get out of here?"

"Yes, please."

G chuckled. "Get yourself dressed, then. We have one stop to make, and then it's off to Brown's for tea."

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. "And then home?"

"Not until tomorrow. There's still the award of the Triwizard cup."

"Bugger."

Harry wanted to believe the Unspeakable who met him and Callen at the Hall of Prophecy was the same one they'd encountered before, but there was no way to know for certain.

Thon led them once more to row 97, and Harry breathed a quiet, relieved sigh when he saw that the prophecy orb concerning him and Voldemort was dark.

Callen either heard the sigh or felt the same, because his hand landed on Harry's shoulder and squeezed.

"What happens to the orb now?" Harry asked.

"We keep it on file for study," the Unspeakable replied.

"If it's fulfilled and only the people it's about can retrieve it," Callen said, "what could you possibly study?"

"Many things," thon replied, and something about the answer set all of Harry's instincts to high alert. A glance at Callen told him the other man had a similar response.

The thought of leaving the prophecy - fulfilled or not, dark orb or not - freely available for anyone to examine however they might actually do that did not sit well. But what other choice was there? What other options did he have?

A tendril of an idea occurred to him, and he reached for the orb.

"It's dark," Callen said.

"I know," Harry said. "I just want to make sure either one of us touching it wouldn't - I don't know - reactivate it somehow."

"That's not how prophecy orbs function," the Unspeakable began, but Harry already had the orb in his palm.

Thankfully, it remained dark, and Harry let out another relieved breath.

Then he turned his hand and let the orb fall to shatter on the floor.

"You've destroyed our prophecy." The Unspeakable sounded stunned.

"That prophecy destroyed my life," Harry replied. "I think that's a fair trade, don't you?"

"If you don't," Callen said, "take it up with the ICW. C'mon, Harry - you know how Hetty gets when we're late to tea."