End of a Beginning:

As Lily stepped out of the black fire and into the final room of protections, her heart almost stopped. There was an adult wizard, presumably Professor Quirrell, standing near the middle of the room. He had some sort of red mark on his cheek and wound around his neck, and probably because of this seemed to be rather shaky. She barely noticed this, however, as she was most concerned with the fact that he had his wand out, pointed at a small figure lying crumpled on the ground. Her son.

It had been over a decade since she had ever raised her wand in anger, but all of those hours of drills with James and other members of the Order of the Phoenix hadn't been for naught. Knowing she had but a second in which to act, her hand rose as her fingers already flicked her wand through the motions and the incantation rolled off her tongue.

"Bombarda!" The bludgeoning curse flew towards the professor as a pale haze. It was an old favourite of hers, as while it would rarely hurt a witch or wizard, it would reliably buffet them enough to disrupt their casting and its wide breadth made it hard to dodge.

The small size of the room and the distraction of Quirrell's injury meant that Lily had got close enough he did not have enough time to bring his wand to bear. Instead, the curse caught him half turned, except rather than just rocking him back, he suddenly staggered, screaming in agony. The skin at the edges of his wound cracked, bloody fissures tearing their way through his flesh. As the cry reached its zenith, sounding as if the professor's throat was tearing up inside, it was abruptly cut off. With her ears still ringing and the follow-up curses stopped at the tip of her tongue through shock, Lily just stood watching, horrified, as the man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut into the growing pool of blood at his feet. From the body rose a dark cloud which her magical senses told her was saturated in rage and hatred. It hovered for a second over the corpse, then with what she swore was an audible hiss, it took off, flying away through the ceiling.

Whatever had just happened, it was clear that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't a threat any more. So, pushing aside the horrifying thought that she had just murdered someone in cold blood, she turned and bent down to examine Harry.

Magical healing was an incredibly specialised discipline of which her knowledge was limited to first aid, basic triage to keep someone alive to the hospital. A simple diagnostics charm allayed her worst fears. Harry was alive and stable, there didn't seem to be anything immediately life-threatening. Maybe he had just been hit by a stunner? Lily decided that it would still be safest to deliver him to Madam Pomphrey rather than try to wake him up herself, just in case.

She gathered her son up in her arms and carried him to sit against the wall. She made sure she was behind the mirror, presumably it was part of the protection so she wasn't going to risk looking in it, and waited for the fire blocking the entrance to burn down.

Rather than die away gently, however, about ten minutes later the flames, which were noticeably lower than before, vanished. The reason became clear as Professor Dumbledore came hurting into the room. He paused on the threshold, eyes sweeping over the scene before him.

"Mrs Potter? Are you alright? What happened here?"

Standing up carefully, so not as to disturb her boy, Lily replied. "I am not fully sure myself, I only arrived at the end. If the way back is now clear could we take Harry to Madam Pomphrey and I can fill you in as we go. I found him like this so I don't feel qualified to try and help him."

"Fair enough. Just let me run a few scans on the area and then I will catch up."

By the time Harry was safely ensconced in the Hospital wing, Lily had told Dumbledore everything she felt he needed to know, starting from her suspicions at the beginning of the year. The Headmaster had also asked a few questions of the other students on their view of events before calling a couple of ghosts over to escort them back to bed.

While Madam Pomphrey was just a school nurse by profession, the sheer range of accidents at Hogwarts meant that her day-to-day experience was far broader than any St Mungo's specialist, so Lily had no problem with leaving him in her care. Apparently he didn't seem to have been under any spell, just a combination of a few bumps and bruises and light blistering on his hands, and acute magical exhaustion. As there was no pressing need for him to wake up, Pomphrey planned to keep him under observation and asleep as his magic slowly replenished itself for a couple of days.

Satisfied that there was nothing more that she could do for him, she accepted Dumbledore's offer to go to his office in the hope that she might actually be getting some answers to what had been going on all year.

Once they reached the office, still as full of books and strange magical devices as she remembered, the headmaster turned to her.

"Mrs Potter. Over its life there have been many artefacts bequeathed to this school, which I have access to as her Headmaster. One of these is called a Pensieve. They are incredibly rare items which allow one to go into someone's memory of a particular scene and view it. If you would allow it, I feel it may be beneficial for you to place your memory of what happened in the mirror room in the pensive so we can look over it again for any details we can find. Not only could this help identify what Professor Quirrell was doing and what happened to him, but it may offer some clues as to what happened to Harry and if there is anything more we can do to help him."

Lily stopped to wrack her brain for whatever she could remember about mental magics. "Is it like a legilimency device? It would allow you to enter my mind?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Nothing so crude. Let me show you."

He walked over to the side of the room and opened a small cabinet. From inside he removed a wide, grey dish. It was made of either dull metal or polished stone, Lily couldn't tell, and the outside was covered in a screed of finely carved runes wrapping around softly glowing gems. Although Lily's experience with the construction of enchanted artefacts meant that she knew some or all of that could be purely decorative to confuse attempts to reverse engineer or drive up the price and play to the ego of the customer. Placing the dish down gently on his desk, Dumbledore then returned to the cabinet to retrieve a filigreed glass or crystal pipette.

"One simply concentrates on the memory they wish to share to bring it to the front of their mind. They then bring this syphon" he gestured with the rod, "to their temple like so and it will draw out the memory." As he touched the tool to his head, a bundle of silvery threads flowed into it, constantly moving and billowing. "Then touch the silver end, you see the other has a golden design around it, to the rim of the Pensieve." On doing so, the captured 'memory' flowed out and into the dish, seeming to expand until much of the basin was submerged under the translucent silver fluid, still swirling ceaselessly. "Finally, by touching the fluid with bare skin, one is pulled into a replay of the memory in question, where others can join you. Once the memory is complete, the viewers are automatically returned to the present and the Pensieve can be emptied for the next use."

With this demonstration complete, Dumbledore tapped his wand to a particular stone on the side of the artefact and the memory inside it seemed to just melt away. He then politely held out the extraction device to Lily. "If you are willing, my dear?"

Deciding that it seemed safe enough and not too intrusive, Lily accepted the device and dutifully transplanted the memory. While in the corner of her eye she could see the silver threads fill the tube, she could feel nothing except the slight chill of metal on skin. In some ways this was even more unnerving, the idea that thoughts could be pulled right out of her head without even noticing. Also, what did 'going into' a memory mean? Only one way to find out, she supposed. Glancing at Dumbledore he smiled.

"Ready?" He asked. Then they both reached forward and touched the fluid.

Everything went dark, and Lily felt for a moment as if she was falling. Then he sight cleared and she was standing back in the room with the potions. There was another version of herself in front of her. The 'original' her, she supposed, just raising the potion flask to her lips. This was really weird, it was as if she was standing next to her past self. How did this work?

"Shall we move on?"

The gentle voice startled her. Turning she saw that Dumbledore was standing next to her. She had been so absorbed by her surroundings that she had not noticed that he had arrived too. Nobody else reacted to the two of them.

"The fire can't hurt us, we are not really here, and I believe we are interested in what happens in the next room." Dumbledore chivvied them forwards.

Hurrying, they just managed to get through the fire and to the side with a good view of events before the 'memory Lily' arrived on the scene. A few brief seconds later and the excitement was over and the memory finished. A short but endless fall later and Lily landed back in her body in Dumbledore's office.

Cutting her off before she could start talking Dumbledore waved his wand and pulled a chair from the corner of the room. "Would you like to sit down and make yourself comfortable Mrs Potter, I see you have many questions and this conversation will likely take a while. Arenstable!" He called out to one of the many paintings covering the walls. "Could you please nip down to the kitchens and ask them to bring up tea for two please."

Once both had settled down and a silver tea set popped into existence before them and began pouring itself out, Dumbledore started.

"The good news is that I believe that I now have a better idea of what happened to Professor Quirrell down there. Unfortunately it isn't good, and I believe that it ties back to what happened that night."

Dumbledore sighed. While in some ways it was satisfying to finally have some proof that he was not just paranoid, as several had accused him, this was one hypothesis he would have been happy to have been wrong on.

"According to your son and Miss Bones, the centaur that they met in the forest seemed certain that it was Voldemort who was after the stone. Of course, it is hard to draw any solid conclusions from the words of those people. I am never sure how much of their vagary and riddles is sheer obstinance, especially against wizardkind, or is part of the magical cost of submerging themselves quite so deeply in their divination magics. Anyway, if Voldemort did survive that night, then the questions are how, and also why hasn't he been seen since? As the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and a close friend to several serving Aurors, I was able to glance at the case file from that night. It stated that, while heavily damaged, there was a body that they identified as belonging to him. If there is one thing that history and experience has taught me it is that with magic, never discard anything as completely impossible. While I hoped that that would be the end of him, I did some research into precedents for dark wizards surviving the destruction of their physical forms, and I am sorry to say that there were examples. From your memory it is obvious that something came out of Professor Quirrell as he died. As if there was something else inside him which escaped."

Dumbledore then leaned back in his chair to let Lily process what she had been told. Perhaps it was due to a lifetime of teaching, but he always preferred leading his conversation partner to make the connections themselves, rather than simply lecturing endlessly.

Lily spoke up. "You mean, that you think Voldemort didn't die, or maybe did die, but not enough, and became some sort of dark magic ghost. He then found a way to get inside Professor Quirrell and what I saw was it leaving as he died?" At Dumbledore's nod of affirmation she continued. "So when he was in Quirrell, what did that mean? Was he just a passenger, or in control like full possession. Was Quirrell still alive even or just been replaced by someone else wearing his own face?"

"Excellent questions. I believe the former. While even many of the students he used to teach in Muggle Studies have commented on the strong influence his study year has had on him, he was not so changed that he was gone completely. While Voldemort was undoubtedly a greatly charismatic individual when he chose to be, I doubt he could have kept up the pretence for an entire year and I like to think that I would recognise if a member of my staff had been replaced by an imposter. How the situation came about, I could not say. Possession is not an area of magic I have any familiarity with. I would guess that if the process was voluntary, even if poor Quirinus wasn't aware of full details of what he agreed to, then it would have been easier."

"Do you think he was fighting it then, and that is what led to his death?" Lily suggested, feeling quite ill. "Those wounds were a manifestation of the internal conflict and my spell pushed him closer to the edge? It was just a blasting curse, it should not have had that effect."

"Whether he was fighting it or not, I believe you are correct in that the possession was crumbling, although if the centaurs were correct and he was hunting down the unicorns for their blood to prolong his life, it may have been inevitable. That may have been why he moved when he did. He had been waiting for the perfect opportunity all year, but now he realised he had little time left, so took the first chance he could. As for the marks…" Dumbledore trailed off and began to stare into space.

After a few moments he seemed to come to himself. "Have you ever wondered precisely what happened that Hallowe'en night?"

Lily nodded. "Not much, I try not to think about it too much, but the official story of the rebounding killing curse just didn't make sense to me."

"Understandable dear. As I said before, I read the Auror's report, and that particular conclusion was drawn from an analysis by the Unspeakable team on the residue surrounding the epicentre of the blast. As far as they could tell it was some form of soul magic, an esoteric, dangerous and rarely ethical discipline of which the best known spells are the unforgivables. While it is not impossible that Voldemort delved further into those magics, there is little to support this theory. One can only learn so much in a given time, especially self-teaching such delicate and forbidden subjects, that I suspect that the curses and the dabbling in necromancy and fleshcrafting used to strengthen his own body and create inferi were his primary academic achievements. Therefore backlash from the killing curse seems like the most likely theory. Especially as, knowing the prophecy, it is likely that Voldemort wanted to execute the perceived threat as certainly as possible rather than try to tempt Fate. Of course, that then raises the problem of how young Harry survived. As I have already said, you should never blindly trust the supposed limits of magic, and willing intent holds far more power than most realise. It is my personal belief that it was James, by willingly sacrificing himself to attempt to save those he loved, poured his magic into a protection that was able to repel even the killing curse."

Dumbledore paused to take some sips of his tea. "The marks on Quirinus seem to match the, much lighter, blisters on young Harry. I believe that James' sacrifice still protects him, to the extent that Voldemort is burned when they touch. This protection fighting back may also be the process that pushed Harry into magical exhaustion. As for his sudden demise. I was watching him carefully as your curse connected, and I think I noticed him trying to cast a sudden wandless shield to absorb the spell. This reinforced the theory that it wasn't just Quirinus you were against, as the reflexes and control to attempt such are far beyond him. The requirements for feats like that is one of the reasons the Auror's turn away so many applicants, and why Voldemort's inner circle were quite so feared, as you might remember."

Lily nodded. She and the Marauders had certainly pulled their weight in Order missions, but even with their high DADA marks the likes of Bellatrix or Lucius would have wiped the floor with them had they dared duel them alone.

"In this particular instance, however, I believe those highly trained instincts betrayed him. While normally Voldemort would be able to deal with a blasting curse trivially, but he was either unaware, or momentarily forgetting the toll that the possession was taking on his host, probably exacerbated by his injuries. I believe that it was not the curse per se that killed him, but the strain of trying to erect the shield wandlessly, as well as the backlash when it broke, hastened the existing disintegration. Perhaps even if you hadn't arrived when you did, attempting to cast something on Harry would have ended in the same result."

There was nothing much more for the two adults to discuss without some serious research into the subjects, so they finished their tea discussing Harry's general performance at school. It didn't escape Lily's notice that for all that most students never saw the Headmaster except for at mealtimes, he seemed to have a surprisingly in-depth knowledge of his students' lives. Or maybe just Harry's, singling him out like everyone else had. It was late, however, so they soon said their goodbyes and Dumbledore sent for a house elf to pick up her broom and opened up the floo in his fireplace for Lily to get most of the way home.

As she flew from the public floo to her house, Lily considered Dumbledore's theory on Voledemort's demise. She was more than a bit sceptical at this interpretation of the death of her husband, as for all that James protecting them from beyond the grave was not unpleasant, it seemed rather fantastical even for a world of magic. Still, it wasn't as if she had a better theory, so she would reserve judgment pending further investigation. Maybe those burns had something to do with the unicorn blood, 'everyone knew' that hurting unicorns was cursed, but what was the curse specifically?

As Madam Pomphrey had placed Harry in a controlled sleep until she was sure that there were no complications, she could tell everyone in advance when he was going to wake up. As Harry opened his eyes he was faced with a circle of concerned faces, not just his friends but also his mother and Remus. He immediately winced, partly in memory of pain he had just been experiencing, and partly in anticipation. In hindsight his decisions would not go down well with the adults, especially after the forest incident.

"How are you feeling?" Madam Pomphrey asked. "Aches? Tired? Anything feeling off?"

Harry started, not having seen her standing at the head of the bed. "Umm, no, I don't think so. Actually, I maybe feel a bit numb all over."

"Good. That will be the calming draught, just a small dose to take the edge of waking up somewhere unexpected." The stern woman waved her wand over him, muttering to herself. "Well, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong. When you feel like getting up, you will be free to go. If anything does come up though, come back here directly." With that she turned around and walked off.

Lily was the first to move. Standing up, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. "Don't scare me like that again. If something this serious comes up, leave it to the adults. Promise?"

"Yes mum." Harry replied. Frankly, even if he didn't regret what he had done, the idea of a repeat wasn't exactly appealing. Passing out from the pain wasn't really what he had had in mind for his moment of heroic defiance. Not only that, but even being near the top of the year academically and his extracurricular magical practice he was still just a first year. Even with the aid of surprise and whatever magic caused his touch to burn Quirrell meaning that the man had dropped his wand, he had still been tossed aside like the small child he was. It was like the troll all over again, however much he wanted to be able to help, his undeveloped magic and lack of knowledge made him impotent. Still, for now at least. He was nearly twelve and Remus and his mum had promised to teach him some better spells over the summer.

Satisfied that that was all she would get for the moment, although the subject would be revisited later, Lily relaxed and returned to her chair.

Having taken stock of his surroundings a bit, Harry now found questions bubbling up. Turning to his friends he asked "Are you guys alright? What happened?"

Susan spoke up. "The bottle had just about refilled when your mum came bursting in. We gave it to her, then about ten minutes later Dumbledore turned up, got rid of the fires and came back out with your mum and you. Then he got some ghosts to take us back to our dormitories."

"As I walked in Professor Quirrell had his wand pointed at you so I threw a curse to distract him, and then…" Lily paused and looked over Harry's shoulder. Twisting around Harry saw Professor Dumbledore standing there, giving a small nod. "What did you see, Harry? Did Quirrell seem odd to you?"

"You mean other than the fact that he had Voldemort's face growing out of the back of his head? I think he had been hiding that all year, that was why he was wearing a turban."

Everyone around him started at this revelation. Padma was surprised to notice however that she was the only one who recoiled at the casual use of that name. She might have been just born when the war ended, but the still lingering scars and fear that it had instilled in those she had grown up with had a powerful effect, especially on an impressionable young girl. Children learned by example after all.

"Yes, well." Lily continued. "Whatever magic Voldemort was using to possess your Professor, it was coming undone. If the centaurs were right and he was hunting down unicorns for their blood, then this had probably been happening for a while, and whatever magical reaction he had to you might not have helped. When Voldemort realised that his magic was crippled enough that he had trouble defending against my curse, he abandoned his victim and fled." Lily had put quite a lot of thought into how she was going to tell Harry this. She had decided that she needed to make it absolutely clear that everything that had befallen Quirrell had been the fault of Voldemort alone. She would not have her son tearing himself up over his accidental and unknowing part in that man's death. Also it helped her sleep easier at night herself.

"So is Quirrell …?"

Dumbledore stepped in. "Poor Quirinus has unfortunately suffered the ultimate price for his ambition. While magic is beautiful and wonderful, it infuses and enhances everything, the bad as well as the good. At least, however, Voldemort did not succeed in his goal. You see, that mirror, the Mirror of Erised, is an old and dangerous artefact. It does not show you your reflection, but instead whatever your heart most desires, and unfortunately many people have wasted away in front of it pining for what they want, but can't be. I was able to use that magic to trap the stone such that only one who desired the stone to keep it safe, but not use it, could take it. Hence, Quirrell, or Voldemort, could have sat all year without success whereas it fell into your pocket."

"What has happened to it now?" Harry asked.

"I have returned it to my old friend Nicholas. He has decided that it is long past time for him and his wife to move on. The stone has been destroyed to keep temptation out of the hands of others, and they have enough elixir of life to settle their affairs in order. For those as old as them, death is simply another great adventure which they feel ready for." Fortunately, only Remus and Dumbledore caught the expression of frank disbelief that flitted across Lily's face. "Anyway, I doubt you want to sit here listening to an old man prattle. Get outside and relax with your friends. I will see you at the leaving feast later this week.

As the adults left the hospital wing Lily approached Dumbledore. "One thing that I still don't understand is what you were trying to do. When I first heard about the Cerberus guarding something, and Hagrid let slip to Harry Flamel's name, I assumed that it was some sort of trap. Obviously someone as experienced as Nicholas Flamel would have come up with ways to deal with potential thieves long ago. Even at his height I would be surprised if Voldemort was the most skilled or dangerous person who has decided to have a crack at getting the stone. The idea that something of his may be hidden in Hogwarts, which for all of the claims of being the 'safest place in Britain' the sheer number of children, and as it turned out staff, makes security a joke even without all of the secret passages, seemed like bait to me."

Dumbledore stopped in the middle of the corridor and checked both ways. Other than the three of them it was empty, not even a portrait in sight. He withdrew his wand and Lily and Remus could feel magic wash over them. "Just some charms to ensure privacy. You will excuse me if these events have left me slightly on edge. You may not be aware, but Nicholas took me on as an apprentice many years ago, and it was working under him that I completed my treatise on the uses of dragon's blood, among other things. While life has kept me quite busy since then, I still keep in touch and attempt to set aside some time for academic pursuits. Recently, Nicholas offered to lend me an artefact of his, I won't say more on what it was, to aid in some experiments. He had it transferred into a Gringotts vault accessible for the school. Over this past summer I finally reached the stage where the artefact was needed and Hagrid was kind enough to fetch it for me, as he had business in Diagon Alley anyway. Later that very day, you may remember reading about it in the Prophet, someone tried to break into Gringotts, and the goblins informed me that they appeared to have been trying to get into that vault. I wasn't told if the individual, who I now realise may have been Voldemort through Quirinus, had actually breached the vault, as there was nothing in it anyway, but this still spooked me."

"I had no idea if the artefact was a specific target, and I have no idea how anybody could have found out about it. Perhaps one of the goblins involved in the transfer let something slip. For all that most wizards unfortunately view the goblins as a singular antagonistic entity, they are individuals with the foibles and weaknesses that that entails. Anyway, even after I had finished my work, I was unwilling to simply return the artefact to Gringotts. As you have so rightly pointed out, the Flamels are used to unscrupulous individuals wishing to take advantage of their achievements for their own ends, and have gotten quite good at avoiding trouble over the centuries. Unfortunately this means that they are spectacularly difficult people to find at times, and they have spent most of the last year away from home so I couldn't simply contact them to return the artefact to them. This meant that I had to keep it safe myself for the time being. Aware that one or more goblins may have been involved in a conspiracy to steal the item, greed has a way of bringing people of a certain type together, I was unwilling to entrust it back to the bank, so I decided to keep an eye on it here. I of course informed the staff on this, so if Voldemort didn't already know he would have done then, and asked for their advice and help in protecting it. The result I believe you experienced yourself. In hindsight I may have placed too much responsibility on them in that regard, for all their enthusiasm they are educators, not security experts."

"And what you told Harry, that because of this the Flamels are giving up immortality? And don't think we didn't notice that you have never actually confirmed this artefact is the Philosopher's Stone." Remus picked up.

Dumbledore sighed. "I hope you understand that this entire debacle has taught me that even with the best intentions, sharing information can lead to unexpected consequences. While Nicholas has still not been in a position to visit and collect his property, I have been exchanging messages with him for the last month or so trying to arrange this. I owled him as soon as I could after events and what I told young Harry all I will say on the results of that discussion. You of course are free to be sceptical, many will be and not without cause. I don't believe there is any practical course of action I can take to convince you, so just before you keep asking me remember that if I am obfuscating then it would be at the request, and for the welfare, of an old friend and you would be asking me to betray his confidence."

It may have been years since either Remus or Lily had attended Hogwarts, but now both of them looked at their feet in embarrassment, feeling like foolish children again.

"I hope your questions are answered by that, so if you will excuse me I suspect you have work to do to prepare for Harry's return tomorrow." Dumbledore brightened and they returned to his office and Floo fireplace in silence.

A few hours later found Harry sitting down for dinner feeling nearly completely back to normal. His stomach had just realised that it had been days since he had last eaten, so he tucked in with gusto. He was also finding it convenient to keep his mouth full, as it was an excuse not to answer the incessant questions about what had happened to him.

Hogwarts tended to be even more chaotic than usual in the week between the exams and the end of term, as the students blew off steam and the professors holed up in their offices to hurriedly mark all of the tests in time to give them back. Even with this, and the fact that most of the time missed had been over the weekend when there were no classes anyway, suddenly spending several days in the hospital wing had been noticed, and now his housemates were demanding answers. It didn't help that, being a group of twelve year olds, their interrogation style lacked any semblance of subtlety or tact, despite Harry trying to make it perfectly clear that he didn't want to talk about it.

After a serious discussion with his friends after leaving the hospital wing, they had decided that the events of that night would stay between them. There were several reasons for this. Firstly, while it had seemed like a good idea at the time, in retrospect they realised that following an unknown wizard of assumed malicious intent through a series of defences the first of which was a man-eating dog, was incredibly stupid, and they were now quite embarrassed about it. They were going to get enough of a chewing out over the whole escapade at home, they really didn't want anyone at school to chip in as well. The various snide comments about 'don't lose track of time' from the accident earlier in the year were bad enough.

Secondly, what story would they tell? That a teacher, the bumbling, stuttering Professor Quirrell had actually been an evil mastermind who was possessed by 'You-Know-Who' (who was definitely gone for good) for the entire year? That Harry had faced him down and somehow burned him with his very touch so Voldemort was forced to flee? With any luck they would just be called liars and attention seekers. It would be far worse if anyone actually believed them.

On one side of the fence would be those from families on the 'right' side of the war. The terror at even the mention of Voldemort's name was so ingrained that they still flinched every time they heard it. The prospect of him still being around, let alone actively scheming to return, was not one that they would be willing to contemplate. At least, not merely at the word of a firsty. In addition he would be accusing Dumbledore of failing to notice one of his staff members, who had been teaching for years, being possessed and replaced for months. Even Padma would not have accepted the story if she hadn't been present for much of it and had Dumbledore himself explicitly confirm the rest.

On the other hand there were those, predominantly in Ravenclaw and Slytherin, whose families were sympathetic to Voldemort's cause, if not outright supporters. For them the idea that their 'Dark Lord' had been reduced to relying on a 'muggle loving simpleton' like Quirrell, or that Harry had come close to beating him off by himself. Harry had already heard enough comments about how he 'wasn't anyone special' or 'daddy won't die for you now'. Also, some of the more self aware, and older, students realised that for all of their parents' selective memories of the war, they were significantly better off now than they had been back then and privately they didn't like the idea of Voldemort returning either.

Even though the worst of this would be directed at Harry, due to his existing notoriety and his role in the story, the others would still be caught by association, especially Neville. The rest of Gryffindor, with the exception of Hermione who was in a similar situation, barely tolerated him when they remembered he existed at all. All in all, the conclusion was reached that while people would get irritated at Harry for refusing to answer their questions, it would be significantly better than the alternative.

There was some relief for Harry as the week went on as, especially for the Ravenclaws, getting their exams back and plans for the summer took over everyone's minds. Also, while several days was quite a long time for it, people ended up in the hospital wing on a relatively regular basis, school nurse was a full time job for a reason.

On the subject of his exams, Harry was pleased overall with his performance. He wasn't the top of the year, that honour went to Michael Corner, as he made sure everyone knew. He felt, however, that he had done well enough in all of his subjects, even Astronomy which he found unbearably dull, that he would be in a good place starting next year. It wasn't that exams as a whole weren't important, just that the first year internal ones weren't. Yes, he could have spent most evenings since Christmas rote learning his notes and bombarding his teachers with extra essays, but what would have been the fun in that. He much preferred pushing his magic and trying out some new spells with Neville and Susan, or spending an afternoon in the Library with Padma, Sue and Terry having arguments over the subject they were researching for that week's Ravenclaw House Quiz. According to Susan's aunt, even the Ministry exams weren't as important as many people thought. Even aside from those who just got jobs in the family firm or with friends of the family, she had worked in DMLE recruitment for a while and even then had mostly just looked at whether applicants had the required NEWT, not what the actual grade was.

Before anyone knew it, the term had ended. It was amazing, Harry thought as he climbed into the carriage that would take him to Hogsmeade Station, that he had been at Hogwarts for an entire year. It felt both like a lifetime and not time at all since he had first laid eyes on the castle and stared in amazement. Even with a childhood of stories of his parents' Hogwarts year, it had managed to exceed his expectations. Sure some of it, like Snape, the troll or the attitude of some of the other students to the 'Boy-Who-Lived' he could have done without, but on the other hand he had got to wield magic, play with a family heirloom in his dad's old laboratory and help hand rear a dragon. While Harry was excited to go home and spend time with his mum and Remus, both of whom he was missing a lot, he also couldn't wait to come back next year and have more adventures.

At King's Cross everybody said their goodbyes as they left the train, with promises to send owls to each other as they parted ways. Harry had only just reached Lily when she swept him up in a tight hug. With Remus grabbing the lightened trunk and swinging it over his shoulder, and then immediately apologising to the old man who he had almost brained, the three of them made for the nearest floo fireplace, eagerly chatting about what they were going to do over the holiday. For the moment at least, Voldemort was put out of mind and they were just a normal family.