Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the HP World. Characters, places, etc. belong to J.K.R.
Thank you to my brother who inspired the story and my beta Pacifia; I couldn't have written it without them.
The sky glowed as the morning sun illuminated the ruined grounds of Hogwarts. The Great Hall blazed as teachers, students, and families came together with a most surreal sense of jubilation. Of course, they wanted Harry to join in, but he hardly could; he was simply exhausted.
Then, Luna came to his rescue. As she called out about Blibbering Humdingers, Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak and slipped through the Great Hall, uninterfered for the first time since sunrise. He passed Ginny and Neville and the Malfoys, until he found the two whose company he sought most: the two who stayed with him through it all.
Hermione was holding Ron's hand in her own, both covered in dirt and sweat and blood. Their weary bodies were nearly limp against each other as they sat in silence. Harry approached them slowly, warily, still hidden under the cloak.
"It's me," he whispered and neither Hermione nor Ron flinched. "Would you come with me?" They rose and, together, the three of them left the Great Hall. Once they were alone, Harry took off his cloak.
They walked in silence for a minute or two, picking their way through the rubble and debris. Somewhere in the distance Harry could hear Peeves zooming through the corridors singing a victory song of his own composition:
We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter's the One,
And Voldy's gone moldy, so now let's have fun!
"Really gives a feeling for the scope and tragedy of the thing, doesn't it?" said Ron, pushing open a door to let Harry and Hermione through. "Leave it to Peeves."
"Look," Harry started, "I owe you an explanation." They remained silent, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't know where to begin. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since he had last talked to them –an eternity since the Shrieking Shack– but he owed this to them. They deserved the truth.
"I–" Suddenly an idea hit him. "How about we do a round of Two Truths and a Lie." The two stared at him.
"Are you mental?" Ron demanded.
"No," Hermione answered, though she didn't look very convinced, "Harry's talking about a game Muggles play, usually at camps or clubs, when they are getting to know each other."
"Blimey, seven years and we are just getting to know each other. You would think the past year alone would have counted for something!"
"I think Harry's got something to tell us and he doesn't know how." Then she explained how the game worked. The premise seemed to enthrall Ron. As Hermione explained the rules, he grinned more and more wildly at Harry.
"So I just need to think of two things that are true about me and one that isn't;" Ron simplified, "then you guys guess which is which?" Without even waiting for an answer, he began counting off his fingers. Harry thought he heard him mumble something about teddy bears.
"Exactly," Hermione confirmed. "It usually works best if you mix a bit of truth into the lie, just to throw people off. If I told that I know the entire Runic alphabet, my cat killed your rat, and I don't like to ski–"
"Then we would know the cat was a lie," Ron cut in, looking up from his fingers.
"True," Hermione agreed. "But if you guys didn't know me as well –frankly, if you were anyone else at this school– you would think that Crookshaks killed Scabbers, Ron."
"I wish he did; bloody traitor."
Harry couldn't help but agree; still, now he knew better. No matter what, he would have had to have died; but Fred, Tonks, or Lupin – they might have lived; Harry didn't know.
"Now," Ron started, interrupting the silence and rubbing his hands together, "Hermionie's already gone, and I'll need a minute to think; so Harry, your turn."
Hermione didn't look so sure. "Are you sure …" she began. But Ron was already back to counting on his fingers.
"It's fine," Harry assured her. Then he cleared his throat and started in:
"I died."
That got their attention. Hermione side eyed Harry, Ron nearly tripped over a piece of broken marble –he was no longer counting– and Harry continued.
"I've been a horcrux since the age of two." They gasped.
"Mate," Ron said gently, "you know you can only have one–" but Hermione shushed him, then drew her wand and moved a couple of the larger bits of rubble out of their way. Harry could practically see her wheels turning; she already knew.
"Harry…" she began, gripping her wand tightly. But Harry pressed on.
"And I've been under the Imperius curse for the last month."
"But you couldn't have been!" Ron burst. "You-Know-Who himself couldn't pull that off!"
"That's the point," Hermione murmured, staring at Harry apprehensively.
"But," Ron stared back and forth between them. "A horcrux?!"
"Which is why he died;" Hermione explained, "he had to have." Her knuckles were deathly white.
Suddenly Harry understood why she was nervous.
"Look," he said, holding his hands up and stepping back, "it is me, Harry. I'm not polyjuice, or an inferi, or anything like that." This game had been a horrible idea. Harry should have known better. He took a breath.
"I've spent the last ten months hunting horcruxes with you: the locket, cup, the diadem, and the snake. The book, and the ring were already destroyed. It was the last job Dumbledore gave us. I had an obsession with the Hallows for a bit there … look, do you want me to keep going?"
"No," Hermione sighed, her body visibly relaxing as she stowed her wand. "I was not fancying trying to duel you though."
"I would have helped!" Ron exclaimed indignantly. "I was just busy trying to figure out how my best friend became a bloody horcrux! And if he's still one or not!"
"I know," Hermione soothed. "But there aren't more; you saw when Voldemort died."
"Are we sure though?"
"He's dead," Harry confirmed.
"Then why are you alive?" Ron pressed.
Back to the original problem, thought Harry, where to start.
"And when did you figure it out?" Hermione added.
That was easier. "Snape," Harry answered.
Then he launched into an explanation of the whole thing; from the memories he had seen in the pensive, to everything that went down on his way to the forest: Snape's promise, Neville's job, the snitch, everything. Ron and Hermione listened raptly to his every word, frequently chiming in to express amazement and wonder; but when he reached the part about the forest, they listened in perfect silence.
Harry went on to explain how Voldemort nearly gave up waiting, how he himself had kept his wand stowed, and how it was over in a flash. Then he explained how he woke up at King's Cross and how Dumbledore and the baby were there as well. He relayed everything Dumbledore had shared about wands, blood, and sacrifice. Everything about Dumbledore's plan. Everything Dumbledore said.
They had varying responses to the information. Most of the time, the pair were exclaiming their amazement at the depth of Dumbledore's schemes. Sometimes, they simply contemplated in silence. Other times, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed surprised. "I guess that explains what you said during The Duel," they would say.
When Harry finally finished relaying his conversation at King's Cross, he went on to explain what happened when he got back. He explained how Voldemort had been unconscious, how Harry had been declared dead ("Narcissa?" Ron asked incredulously), and how Hagrid had carried his body back to the castle.
After that, Harry had hardly anything to explain. They had been there for Voldemort's victory parade; they probably even saw it better than he had. Still, Harry told them how he slipped under the cloak and, ultimately, defeated Voldemort.
"Wow," Ron sighed, when Harry was finally done. "To think I was going to talk about chess."
Together the three friends laughed and cried with relief, the most stupendous relief; and neither Hermione nor Ron had come close to expressing their full astonishment of the situation, when the three of them reached a particular –though rather punch-drunk– gargoyle.
He fingered the Elder Wand, still stowed in his robes. One more thing to do; then Harry could get some rest.
"Can we go up?" he asked.
"Feel free," groaned the statue.
They clambered over him and on to the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upwards like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top.
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! If so, let me know; reading reviews makes my day!