Chapter 2: Can't Go Back

A confusing deluge of images and emotions affected Harry's sleep. He came to the realization a few times that he was, in fact, dreaming. That was a massive relief. No wonder his day had been so cocked up.

Harry opened his eyes and became immediately disoriented. He wasn't looking at his inn room window in Paris, but his own wall at Grimmauld Place. There was a weight on his hip. Confused and nauseous, Harry rolled over onto his back. Pansy was a bit blurry when Harry's glasses were on the nightstand, but he recognized her outline, hair, and smile.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," she said. "Back for the weekend?"

A yawn came up over Harry, a welcome thing in order to give him time to form an answer. "Not sure."

"Had some business in London and figured you had time for a kip before heading back?" Pansy ran a hand up over Harry's forehead. "You look a little pale. Are you ill?"

Harry exhaled a sigh. Whatever his dreams had been—whatever was real—one thing was certain. It wasn't something Harry could keep to himself. Pansy hadn't heard yet, by the sounds of it.

"Voldemort is gone." The words felt weird on Harry's tongue.

Pansy's smile slid away. Harry reached for his glasses. Other than wide eyes, Pansy looked gravely serious. "You mean that?"

"I don't know if it's permanent or not," Harry said. "For now, it's over."

"How?"

"He. . ." Harry shrugged.

Pansy studied him. "Was it you?"

Harry nodded.

Pansy deflated slightly on a shaky exhale. Her blinking gaze redirected to the floor. Harry was having a hard time fully absorbing it too. He already barely remembered it. A flash of green, the howl of wind, Dagmar's dead stare—

"Oh my god," Pansy finally said under her breath. She looked at Harry again. "Are you all right?"

"I guess." Harry felt okay at the moment, he thought. "Williamson told me to go home, so I did. Fell asleep for a bit."

Harry's stomach fell on that. When he'd come home, Kingsley, Parasca, and six other Aurors were all still in Bergen. Harry hadn't even thought about them. Were they still at it? Were they okay?

Pansy jumped up to get out of the way when Harry, panicked, threw the blanket off himself. His heart immediately ramped up to the point that he was having a hard time going through the logistics of finding what trousers he should wear to the office—or should he not waste time and go straight to Bergen? He rifled through his dresser.

"Erm, I didn't think about it when I came in," Pansy said, "but there's an owl down in the parlour. It wouldn't let me catch it, so I just assumed it was something for Ron."

Nodding, Harry jumped into his trousers and grabbed a tee shirt and some socks before leaving the room. Dread settled into his gut. What kind of bad news might this owl bring?

Hedwig looked annoyed with the company. She sat in her enclosure in a way that blocked its door, leaving just the windowsill for the owl. It flew off with a soft hoot once Harry had taken the letter. He opened it with shaking hands:

Williamson said he sent you home. I understand if you need some time to absorb everything, so I won't bother you there.

Come to HQ when you're ready.

Kingsley

Harry let out a portion of the breath he was holding. Kingsley was all right. He looked at Pansy when she leaned against the arch frame. "I have to go to Malfoy Manor."

She nodded. "Anything you want me to do? Find Ron and Hermione, or. . .?"

"Er, yeah." Harry rubbed his still-tired eyes. "Ron's probably somewhere in Diagon Alley. Hedwig knows the way to Hermione's flat, if you want to write her."

"What should I tell them?"

"Just get them up to speed, I guess?"

Pansy came over as Harry pulled his shirt properly on. "I'll be here when you're done, then. I have a feeling Ron and Hermione will be too."

"Okay."

He shoved his feet into his runners and kissed Pansy's forehead in passing. As Harry flooed from Grimmauld Place to Malfoy Manor, his stomach lurched anew. It was with hesitation that he stepped out of the fireplace in its great room. He looked around for signs that his and Malfoy's scuffle here were real. Harry was tentatively relieved to see that where he remembered tossing was clean. So was where Malfoy had been laying as his bloody nose dripped.

Harry headed over to the drawing room. There were only a couple voices, low murmurs up until Harry reached the door. He caught his name before the room fell quiet. Kingsley and Dumbledore sat at the table's far end.

"Hey," Harry greeted them.

Dumbledore dipped his chin. "Come sit."

Harry hesitated. He couldn't help but feel like he was about to get into trouble. He hated it more than anything when Dumbledore was beyond calm, as if Harry had somehow disappointed him. Could Harry have, by doing Voldemort in the way he did?

That sense of dread in disappointing his old Headmaster wasn't made any better by taking a seat across from his superior. Kingsley had even less humour to his expression. Harry would've thought that impossible if he wasn't looking right at him.

"Kingsley saw everything that happened," Dumbledore told Harry. "We're discussing it."

Harry pressed his lips. "What happened to Bellatrix? And the other ones that were there?"

"We were too outnumbered in the end." Kingsley shook his head. "Harry. . .there's no easy way to put this. You and I are the only ones that survived. Kat, Fulton, Hartford, Copeland, Durham, Shipley, and Wallace are all dead."

Harry's diaphragm ceased to move, catching his breath as nausea returned to the back of his throat. "Parasca is?"

Kingsley nodded. "Bellatrix killed her. The others were ambushed. I had no choice but to disengage."

Harry tried to fathom that the next time he went into the office, he would have his and Parasca's shared cubicle to himself. "I should've stayed."

"Absolutely not," Kingsley told him. "Bellatrix would've got you too."

Away from the moment, Harry was having a hard time feeling like that mattered. It had been drilled into him for so long that when it came down to him and Voldemort in the end, he might not walk away. Just like he was prepared to deliver a killing blow, he'd accepted that he might not beat Voldemort to the punch. The downside of being alive on this side of it all was knowing just how many people had died for his sake.

"Don't blame yourself, Harry," Kingsley said. "You don't know what the entire situation was, and neither did Kat and I at the time. We were talking while duelling with Bellatrix about what to do. We thought the other Aurors had things under control outside. I told Kat that she was to get Dagmar's body and leave. I would keep on with Bellatrix by myself to shield her. That's when the Death Eaters came in from outside. I was distracted, and Bellatrix got her."

Harry's nausea worsened. "So Dagmar's really dead, then."

"Yes."

"What happened?" Harry's mouth felt dry. "Malfoy said it was me that did it. He said he saw everything."

"That's what we were just discussing." Kingsley shared a glance with Dumbledore. "You hit Voldemort. It rebounded and hit Dagmar. Since you're the only other person that that's ever happened with, well. . .your mother died to protect you. Perhaps it's not love but the mere act of sacrifice that shields someone. You'll recall that Erik Ramstad died protecting Voldemort back in March."

That didn't sit right with Harry. "Why didn't it hit me, then? And wouldn't Voldemort have survived like I did?"

"We don't know," Dumbledore said. "We don't have Voldemort's body."

That made things infinitely harder for Harry to fathom Voldemort really being gone. "How do you know he didn't just get right back up, then?"

"We don't," Dumbledore replied. "When Kingsley returned with backup, Voldemort's body was gone. So was Dagmar's. Everyone else's was left as is."

"They took Dagmar's body?" Harry couldn't help but grimace.

"We don't know why." Dumbledore exhaled a sigh through his nose. "I'm planning on going to Azkaban soon to talk to Draco about it. He might know."

Harry's mouth was dry again. "He got taken there?"

"Either just arrived, or will shortly." Kingsley glanced at his watch. "Neither Dumbledore or I believe Draco deserves to be incarcerated. From what we know, he should be innocent. However, without hearing his side of things, we all have to acknowledge that the situation looks testy. Voldemort was hiding at his house. So was Bellatrix Lestrange and at least three more Death Eaters. He will have to answer for that. He will stand trial. If it goes in his favour, he won't stay in Azkaban. Due process takes time."

"But he just lost his fiancée."

"Irrelevant, unfortunately." Kingsley adjusted in his seat. "Everyone present in the Auror office when you arrived there with him said emotions were running about as high as they could go."

Harry nodded, bowing his head after. "I don't know that I think he was in on it. Just. . .after being on decent terms with him the last year, it doesn't really fit."

"Every conversation I ever had with Draco about how to handle his and Dagmar's adjacency to the Death Eaters ended with their assertion they would just go along with it," Dumbledore said. "They weren't wholly concerned about that being detrimental to them. They suggested they use such a situation to act as spies for the Order. Of course, just for now while things are so uncertain, we have to leave open the idea that they may have acted in the Order as spies for the Death Eaters. We have to weigh the probabilities. I think the three of us can at least agree it's more likely their loyalty laid with the Order."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. Across from him, Kingsley nodded. "So why can't Malfoy just. . .I mean, obviously we can't really release him until we figure things out, but does that mean he has to go to Azkaban?"

"That's not a bell you can unring," Kingsley said. "Especially now as we sort out whether or not Voldemort is truly dead. We have to scrutinize everybody. If Voldemort is gone, then we need to start the monumental task of trying to round up the Death Eaters."

"So why aren't we doing that right now?" Harry replied. "Why put Malfoy in Azkaban and not interrogate him right away?"

"I have a meeting with Amelia Bones later tonight about the possibility of attacks in the wake of this." Kingsley glanced at his watch again. "The numbers in our office are a little slimmer than I'm comfortable with after these last couple run-ins with Death Eaters."

"Hogwarts is my priority," Dumbledore told Harry. "I have yet to inform Luca about his mother's passing. Given that the Death Eaters were in Bergen, they're not really all that far away from Hogwarts. I need to ensure that the school is adequately protected before I take a trip out to the North Sea."

"What should I do?" Harry asked.

Kingsley and Dumbledore shared a look again before Kingsley cleared his throat. "Speaking as your superior, nothing. Today's been. . .well. You should take some time. Let Dumbledore and I handle things from here."

"The hard part is hopefully done," Dumbledore added. "As far as the Order is concerned, we'll have some meetings in the next short while so that I can keep everyone in the loop. I'm not going to bother calling one until after I speak to Draco. Just keep an eye out for a date and time."

"Okay." Even though Harry still felt the need to keep going, he knew on some level that he wasn't in a frame of mind to make his own decisions right now. "For work, just. . .?"

"I don't expect to see you Monday morning," Kingsley said. "I'll bring you the proper paperwork at the next Order meeting to put in a leave. We'll talk about how long you want, or how long you might need. I'll recall you officially from Paris and let Marigot know what happened. Did you get your things from the inn, or did you and Kat come straight back?"

"We came straight."

"I'll leave it to you then to pack yourself up," Kingsley told Harry. "I'll worry about Kat's things."

"Okay."

"As for news of what happened. . ." Kingsley folded his arms. "Outside of the Order and high-ranking Ministry officials, this is all tightly confidential until things are more certain. It's most likely the four Death Eaters present at Draco and Dagmar's took Voldemort's body with them. I just can't follow the same logic as to why they would've taken Dagmar's. Given she most likely wasn't aligned with them, they may have just believed she was."

Harry nodded, his mood dipping yet again. "When Malfoy and I were here, he asked why I came. He said that him and Dagmar had everything under control."

"Right," Kingsley said quietly before standing. His chair scraping against the floor echoed through the drawing room. "I ought to go. Not that I think you'll listen, Harry, but you would do best not to dwell. We don't have all the facts yet. Bad day, no disputing that. We owe it to everyone we just lost not to crumble in the wake."

When Harry's throat constricted, he doubled-down on clenching back any sort of emotion that emerged. Parasca had told him something similar not all that long ago. "Right."

"I'll see you soon. Take care of yourself."

Harry ended up ducking his chin rather than committing to another nod. Other than the sheer weight of all the lives he'd negatively impacted, he could feel himself starting to shut down. Despite that, it still didn't feel real. If Harry thought about Dagmar and Malfoy's home, he remembered how it used to be. A sudden craving for pumpkin came over Harry, and the scent of it mingling with tea touched his memory. Harry had ruined it completely. That place would never be the same again.

"I don't think I did the right thing," Harry said to his lap when it was just him and Dumbledore. "It wasn't worth it. And what if he's not—? I did it for nothing, Professor."

"This may sound like a platitude, but it's never for nothing," Dumbledore replied. "I'll be honest in saying that I do hope this was it for Voldemort, whether he comes back again or not. I won't spare you the truth. You've seen too much—been through too much—to deserve anything less than that."

"Do you think I cocked up, then?" Harry looked at him. "I never even really thought about what I would do when Voldemort and I ran into each other again. Usually I can weasel my way out, but—he was coming at me, and I knew what was going to happen if I didn't hit first. I honestly thought it'd be me in the end. How could it not be? He's—and I'm just a kid."

"You aren't a kid anymore." Dumbledore shook his head. "After all the times you and Voldemort crossed paths, he underestimated you. He always put you on the defensive. You didn't give him a chance this time. I don't believe he would've been so brash in his actions if he expected anything else."

Something occurred to Harry. "What if he planned it?"

Dumbledore tilted his head, brow furrowing.

"What if he did get his phylactery back?" Harry built on that. "Maybe he had a fallback plan with it? If I killed him like that, the prophecy is gone. He's not tied to me anymore."

"I still think he would've rathered your positions be reversed." Dumbledore folded his hands on the table. "If he intended to break the ties between you, it was much more to his benefit he come out on top in the end. The prophecy would've been fulfilled either way. You have no way of coming back from the dead. Perhaps Voldemort does, but I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate being set back like that again after all the work he put in to return once already."

"Yeah." Logic made Harry feel better. It was some form of order in all the chaos his life had suddenly been plunged into. "He was moving all right."

"Oh?"

"I think so." Harry paused. "I didn't get a good long look at him, but he didn't seem too hard up."

"Interesting," Dumbledore said. "Are you expecting anyone at Grimmauld Place?"

"Er, Pansy was there when I left. She was going to tell Ron and Hermione what happened. She mentioned maybe telling them to come by. That's okay, right? That they know?"

"Of course." Dumbledore's eyes crinkled with his brief smile. "I only ask because you shouldn't be alone right now. The best thing you can do is surround yourself with the people you're closest to."

"Yeah."

"I think that's all we needed to discuss," Dumbledore said. "Kingsley and I wanted to catch you up as far as we knew everything, and to let you know that you should take some time. You've been through an ordeal today. Something that's been building up for years is possibly over. I'll see you soon."

Harry nodded. "See you."

Because Harry's day had started so normally, he was having a hard time once he stood up from the table feeling as if anything was real. Part of him was still convinced that everything had been a dream, and continued to be so. Harry had grown used to a life where he always had to keep some sort of eye on his back. Voldemort was always out there. Now he might not be.

Maybe it wasn't worth the trade-off, for eight more people to have died today. Someone that was most likely innocent and who had now lost everything was making a space for himself in Azkaban. Harry much preferred to pretend that Malfoy was still up in Bergen, and that he and Dagmar were just doing their thing.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place. He could hear voices down in the kitchen, which ramped up his dread again. Harry wasn't ready to talk about this where he was in the role of informing others.

His feet came to a stop all on their own at the top of the stairs. Harry sighed before heading down.

Along with Pansy sat Ron, Hermione, and Viktor. The four of them looked over at Harry as he came in, their gazes searching. It made Harry feel like a zoo animal. He took a seat beside Pansy at the table.

She touched his arm. "Do you want a cup for some tea?"

"I guess," Harry replied.

"So. . ." Ron said with a glance at Hermione and Viktor. "It's true, then?"

"Don't really know right now," Harry said. "There's no body."

"Oh." Hermione sounded disappointed. "What happened? You know, if you don't mind me asking."

As much as it sucked for Harry to hear back at Malfoy Manor, he appreciated that Kingsley got the worst news out of the way first. Really, anything other than the deaths was secondary. "It wasn't good. Out of all us involved at the Auror office, Kingsley and I are the only ones that walked away. Parasca and six more are gone. So's Dagmar, Hermione."

"Dagmar?" Hermione's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Like. . .?"

"She died."

Harry's gaze dropped to his lap as Hermione's breathing hitched and fell out of rhythm. Pansy slowed on her return to the table, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder when she reached him. Ron cursed under his breath.

"How?" Hermione sniffled. "But-but I just talked to her. . ."

"Don't really know." Harry couldn't bring himself to say aloud that his Killing Curse did it, whether he aimed it at her or not. "Sorry. It's not a good day. It was a mess. Malfoy, erm. . .it's probably not permanent, but he's heading to Azkaban."

"Oh, fuck, really?" Ron spoke up. "They weren't fighting on his side, were they?"

"Me, Dumbledore, and Kingsley don't think so, but it's hard to tell right now—" Harry stilted to a halt as Hermione pushed her chair out and headed for the kitchen exit. With an expression somewhere between serious and concerned, Viktor followed her with a quick apology to Harry, Ron, and Pansy.

Pansy sat down beside Harry again. "Draco's going to prison?"

"It's—god, where do I even start?" Harry felt suddenly exhausted again. He rubbed his eyes. It was at least easier to tell the story without Hermione in the room. "Parasca and I got our witness in Paris this morning. Bellatrix Lestrange was the one that murdered Magnus Norheim, and Dagmar was there with her. She was really upset, so we all figured she wasn't there by choice. Dumbledore had talked to her and Malfoy a couple days after that happened, and there was nothing off about her. He figured Bellatrix modified her memory about the whole thing. We told Kingsley all this, and he rounded up some Aurors so we could go to Dagmar and Malfoy's place to make sure things were okay before we brought them up to speed. Dagmar and Malfoy just went along like everything was okay until I mentioned that conversation with Dumbledore. Then Malfoy told me to shut up, and here Bellatrix was up on the second floor landing listening in. Kingsley and Parasca were duelling her, Voldemort came in, I—you know, Kingsley told me to get out of there, so I did. Williamson told me to come home when I got back to the office."

Ron and Pansy both wore the same sort of grimace.

"So what do you reckon, then?" Ron asked. "Hermione mentioned before you got here she'd been talking to Ramstad this morning. I'm sure she'll tell you nothing's seemed off. You don't think they were double agents? So what, then? You-Know-Who and some Death Eaters were just squatting there?"

"Maybe, but everything's up in the air. Dumbledore's gonna talk to Malfoy first to figure out what happened."

Ron grimaced anew. "Can't say I see him being too much in a giving mood."

"Yeah," Harry quietly agreed. "I feel way worse than dragon dung about all of it. Malfoy lost his fiancée, Luca Parasca lost his mum. . .and I don't know yet if it was all worth it. There's not even any telling if Malfoy knows anything. So maybe Voldemort is still out there."

"You hit him straight on, didn't you?" Ron asked.

"Mhm."

"Who comes back from that? Well, other than you."

"We've known for a while that Voldemort might not be mortal."

Ron nodded slowly, gaze stuck on his tea and lips pressed together. More for something to do rather than because he was thirsty or particularly wanted some, Harry reached for the teapot and filled his cup. He sipped it mindlessly. It was barely lukewarm.

"So I guess we just wait, then," Ron said. "What about in the meantime? What're you doing?"

"Nothing," Harry replied after swallowing his mouthful of tea. "Kingsley told me to take a leave."

"Like you're in trouble?" Pansy asked.

"Nah, just a break." Harry braced his chin as he slouched forward over the table. "He said let him and Dumbledore handle things. Mentioned meeting with Madam Bones, so I guess that means the whole department is going to be on this now."

"That's good." Ron nodded. "Yeah, you need a bit of a break after today, I'd say."

Harry just wasn't sure what he'd do with himself. He wanted to be out there trying to make up for all of today's fuck-ups. When his shock dissipated like low-laying fog on an autumn morning, it might not suit him to just sit at home. Already, Harry felt some sort of obligation toward Malfoy, Luca Parasca, and all the families of the other Aurors that died today. He owed it to Parasca as his mentor. He owed it to Kingsley, Dumbledore, and the entire wizarding world to make it clear that good indeed prevailed over evil. Whether he was an Auror or not, Harry had killed somebody. Yes, it was Voldemort, but there was Dagmar too. She'd never done anything to deserve this.

Just one set of steps sounded on the stairs. Viktor came into the kitchen, his expression set. Even though he looked angry, his voice remained even in the way Harry had come to recognize as denoting calmness for him. "Hermione and I are going to head home. She's pretty upset and doesn't think she'll be good to be around tonight. She'll pop in on you tomorrow, Harry."

Harry nodded. As much as he would appreciate the company while Ron and Pansy worked, his stomach sunk at the prospect of Hermione trying to cope with Dagmar's death by excavating every single detail of it out of Harry. He would have no choice but to tell her the truth. Even if that wasn't just how Hermione was, Harry owed it to her anyway. He'd rather she heard it from him than at an Order meeting, and then deal with her wondering why Harry hadn't told her anything.

Not long after the fireplace sounded, Harry stood up. "I think I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Have you thought about dinner at all?" Pansy asked. "I was going to run to Diagon Alley for something for all of us."

"I'll eat whatever."

Harry wasn't much for making any sort of decisions right now. He didn't have an appetite either. He was in the middle of undressing in the third-floor bathroom when a light knock came at the door.

"It's me," Pansy said. "Can I come in?"

Harry opened the door for her. Pansy closed it behind her and leaned back against the counter. While she studied him, lips pressed and brow wrinkled with concern, Harry toyed with his balled up shirt.

"How're you doing?" she asked.

"I dunno." Harry shrugged. "I feel like I cocked up, but also like I should be relieved things might've just tipped toward the end. I'm worried that they didn't and I really cocked up."

Pansy pushed herself off the counter and put her arms around Harry's middle before resting her head against his chest. Some tension that Harry hadn't realized he carried melted away. He returned the hug, letting his head go heavy on top of hers.

"I wish I didn't have to work tomorrow." Pansy sighed. "At least Hermione will be by."

"It's not going to be good," Harry said. "It's my fault that Dagmar's dead. I don't know how to tell her."

Pansy looked up at him. "How do you figure that?"

"I'm not figuring anything. It bounced off Voldemort and hit her."

"You can't have meant for that to happen."

"Doesn't matter. It did."

Anger twinged somewhere in the emotional void Harry floated through the latter half of the day with. He pulled away from Pansy and refocused on making it into the shower. As much as he wanted some kind of comfort, Harry didn't think he deserved it. He also didn't want to end up taking his frustrations out on Pansy.

"Just—" Even then, Harry needed to vent. "What a thanks, you know? I poked and prodded them, hardly trusted them, and they went beyond themselves to help me anyway. And what did they get for that? Dagmar's got nothing to say because she's dead. It's my fault Malfoy's in Azkaban too. He wouldn't calm down, so I took him to the Auror office. He begged me for help, Pansy. Begged me. They hauled him off while he was screaming my name, and I didn't do anything. I went home and had a kip. I'm the one that murdered two people today, and he's the one sitting in prison. How fucked up is that?"

Pansy shifted. "You're an Auror, though. It's different. Isn't it? And even if you weren't an Auror, wouldn't it be a special case for you anyway?"

"I couldn't give two fucks about Voldemort." Harry waved a hand. "He would've done the exact same thing to me if he had the chance. Dagmar wouldn't have."

"You're sure about that?" Pansy asked. "I mean, not to insult her memory or anything, but do you really know what was going on at her house before you showed up?"

"Malfoy said they had it under control, and I don't think he was in a state to lie," Harry replied. "I've never had someone look at me like I'd betrayed them like that before. Not to mention, all the times I've gone to their place alone. I've been drunk there. When I stayed the night after I had too much, I slept so hard I didn't even dream. Dagmar made me and Malfoy a fry-up the morning after. Then there was Halloween, when Dagmar sent me home with all those sweets. They were nothing but kind to me."

To Harry's horror, his eyes grew heavy. While he thought of everyone else he'd hurt today, he'd kept at bay what this all personally meant to him. He'd grown to quite like Dagmar and Malfoy. There was potential there for friendship. Dagmar and all of her promise as a person, Healer, wife, mother, and whatever else she'd wanted for herself in life was gone. Harry couldn't imagine any sort of situation that would lead to Malfoy forgiving him this.

Harry cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the emotion regardless of whether Pansy was in the room with him. "Anyway. I'm gonna shower."

"Right," Pansy quietly said. "Erm, Ron said he'd go for food. He should be back by the time you're done."

"Okay."

While Harry started the shower, Pansy slipped out of the room behind him. Being left alone wasn't as great as Harry hoped it would be. He didn't have an audience for the emotions he tried to deal with, but he didn't have an outlet either. Maybe it was for the best that Pansy not be confronted with that. She wasn't used to it, and the fact that she was his girlfriend made Harry wanting to yell a very iffy situation that he refused to test with her.

In that sense, Harry was almost starting to look forward to what Hermione might have to say to him tomorrow when she learned what hand he had in Dagmar's death. She never spared him the truth, and that usually extended to Harry getting what he deserved.