Harry coughed a lungful of ash as he stumbled forward out of the grate once his world stopped spinning. He had never quite gotten the hang of traveling by Floo Powder; the sensation was similar to that of Apparating, but dirtier and feeling as though he might burn to a crisp. Slightly regretting his choice of transportation, he dusted himself off and stepped over the mantle into the Weasleys' kitchen. He caught a glimpse of a golden-red head of hair before he was bowled over by something moving very fast.
"HARRY!" exclaimed Molly Weasley, squeezing him so tight he thought he might pop. "We've been so worried about you, sleeping all day and night..."
"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley, thanks," Harry laughed. More people were scrambling into the kitchen from upstairs and outside, no doubt as excited to see him as Molly was. She thankfully released him and gave him a proper once-over.
"Now, you are not to call me that anymore," she chastised him lightly. "You're a grown adult now, and you can call me Molly."
"Alright then, Molly," Harry smiled. "It's good to see you."
Then Ron and Hermione were there, embracing him tightly; then Percy and Bill and Fleur and Charlie and a number of other distant Weasley relatives he vaguely recognized from the wedding last summer. All eager to hug him or shake his hand, to get a glimpse of the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the young man who had done the impossible and saved the wizarding world…
"Give him some space, everyone," Molly tutted. "He's probably overwhelmed by all the attention."
"It's alright Mrs.—er, Molly," said Harry, but silently he was grateful for the gesture. He was used to people gawking at him by now, but this newfound adulation disconcerted him – like he was some kind of god among men.
"I imagine you must be starving, Harry dear," said Molly, gesturing to the counter tops behind her. "We've just put breakfast away, but we can fix you something—"
"I'm fine, thank you, I already ate," said Harry. "I think I'd like...well, to know a bit of what's going on."
"We can help with that," Hermione said quickly, and Ron nodded vigorously beside her. "Harry, d'you want to go for a walk?"
"I'd love to," said Harry, and he noted the vaguely disappointed looks from the others around him.
"As long as we can all catch up with you after!" Molly called out hopefully after the trio.
"Of course," Harry reassured her as he followed Ron and Hermione out the back door. They strode purposefully through the garden and up the dirt path a ways until they were sure they couldn't be eavesdropped upon before turning towards one another.
"You're really all right then, Harry?" asked Ron. "You sure slept for a while."
"We weren't sure whether to wake you or not," Hermione said tersely. "You were muttering and moving around a lot in bed...did you get enough rest?"
"Yeah, slept like a baby," Harry lied. "Enough about me. What's been going on?"
"Loads," said Ron. "Things are moving fast right now. Ministry officials have been in and out of the house, everyone's looking for you, asking questions…"
"Everybody wants to know what we've been up to for the past year," added Hermione. "We thought it best not to say anything without consulting you first."
"I see," said Harry. He knew it was inevitable that every witch and wizard would want to know the truth – how he had successfully thwarted Voldemort and found his weakness. But truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted them to know. It was a twisted tale that involved some very powerful Dark magic that might be best forgotten to history. He told Ron and Hermione as much, and they nodded.
"We thought it best too," said Ron. "Reckon it might be unwise if the entire world knew about Horcruxes and how to make them."
"But there's another problem, Harry," said Hermione. "The Elder Wand."
"What about it?" said Harry, reaching into his pocket. "I have it right here." Ron and Hermione eyed it apprehensively.
"Well yes, we know that," Hermione continued. "It's just that...well, you said a lot about it during your confrontation with Voldemort. So a lot of people have been talking about it, gossiping about what it means."
Harry thought back to the climactic moment in the Great Hall, when he had stared down Voldemort and explained his downfall to him before striking him down for good. Adrenaline had been coursing through him at the time, and it dawned on him now that he may have said more than he should have. Did the whole wizarding world know that he was the master of the fabled Elder Wand? The Deathstick? The Wand of Destiny?
"Most people still assume the Deathly Hallows are part of a kids' tale," Ron jumped in. "But there are rumors floating around about the wand, that's all. Whether it's real or not."
"So just be careful what you say to people," Hermione cautioned. "Wouldn't want to advertise that you have the most powerful wand in history to everyone, would you?"
"I guess not," said Harry, stowing the wand away. "Thanks for the heads-up. I'm planning to take it back to Dumbledore's tomb soon anyway."
"We can come with you," Ron offered, but Harry shook his head.
"You two have done enough for me in the past year," he grinned. "Think I can manage my own errands for a while." They grinned back at him. Harry knew he could never express his gratitude enough to them for all they'd done for him, but he saw in their faces that he didn't have to. They shared a moment of quiet reflection together. They were free at last of the burden they'd carried for the past year...hell, the past seven years.
Hermione was the first to break the silence. "Ginny's at the Ministry, in case you wondered," she said with a knowing smile. "She and the rest of Dumbledore's Army are being commended by the Minister for their efforts at Hogwarts last year."
"Brilliant," said Harry. "I've got to go in myself to see Kings—I mean, the Minister soon."
"Yeah, we heard about that," said Ron. "Don't sweat it though mate, I'm sure they'll let us off—"
"Let us off?" asked Harry, noting the annoyed glance Hermione gave to Ron, as though Harry wasn't supposed to hear that. "What are you on about?"
"It's nothing, really Harry," Hermione groaned. "I mean, it's not technically nothing, considering we did break into Gringotts and steal a dragon—"
"The goblins are angry, really angry," said Ron. "They don't seem to care that we defeated Voldemort, they're demanding our arrest…"
"But it won't happen, Kingsley wouldn't let it," Hermione hastened to add. "We'd agreed not to bring it up with Harry, Ronald, not until he's had some time to process everything else…"
"I'm a grown adult Hermione, you don't need to shield me from anything," said Harry crossly. "Anyway, never mind that. I'll go in tomorrow and explain what happened." But even as he said this he saw the conundrum: how was he going to explain their reasons for breaking into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault? He didn't want word to spread that they were seeking the Horcrux contained within.
"There's loads more to tell you, but it can wait," said Hermione. "Nothing important, I promise, just little things that need to get done here and there. I'm sure the others will fill you in soon enough."
"Blimey, that didn't take long," Ron muttered, and Harry turned to follow his eyeline back to the garden, where a number of witches and wizards had Apparated onto the grounds and were now streaming into the Burrow. "Word must've traveled fast that Harry's back."
"Great," Harry groaned. "But there's something else I wanted to tell you guys first." And he filled them in on his visit to the Hog's Head, and Aberforth's scar that he'd received from Dawlish. To his surprise, neither of them seemed that concerned about it.
"There were a lot of fighters on Voldemort's side under the Imperius Curse," said Ron. "The Ministry's sorting it all out as we speak, Dad's told us. I'm sure they already know—"
"Seems strange though, doesn't it?" Harry pressed. "Dawlish didn't get fired like the other Aurors when the Ministry fell to Voldemort...and he's always been on the Order's bad side...what if he's—?"
"If you're about to accuse him of being a Death Eater, save it," Hermione scowled. "Kingsley's always vouched for him as an Auror, so we can trust him. Just because he wasn't in the Order…"
"Don't bother yourself with this stuff, mate," said Ron. "I reckon you've done enough by now, don't you think? You ought to give it a rest for a while...you deserve it."
"Yeah, yeah," Harry sighed, dropping it for now. He eyed the Burrow with trepidation; more people were streaming in from the garden than ever. "Guess I'd better not keep everyone waiting...let's catch up later."
Harry spent the next few hours being passed off from one doting Weasley relative to the next, expressing their gratitude, asking him where he's been all this time. "Mission from Dumbledore," he told each and every one of them, though he did not elaborate further than that. He could see the looks of disappointment, could hear the gossip flying when his back was turned, but he didn't care. They could ask all they wanted, but he wouldn't divulge Tom Riddle's secrets so easily. They were too dangerous to become common knowledge, and he'd worked too hard to keep it under wraps so far.
"You'll be staying with us for long then, dear?" asked Molly when she'd finally wrangled Harry onto the sofa for a heart-to-heart.
"I'm not sure yet," said Harry truthfully. "Haven't thought that far ahead yet."
"I hope you'll stay until next Saturday at the very least," she said. "That's when we're holding the ceremony."
"Ceremony?" asked Harry, and felt a sinking sensation in his stomach at the look of despair on Molly's face.
"For...for Fred," she said in a much softer voice. She took a moment to compose herself before continuing, "We've already buried him, you see, but we've organized a proper funeral for next Saturday. If you're willing to—" She trailed off, unable to continue.
"Of course I'll be there, Molly," said Harry, embracing her in a consoling hug. He felt a lump in his throat, having forgotten those who lost their lives fighting on his behalf at Hogwarts. Fred… Lupin… Tonks… He shook his head to clear it. There would be time to mourn later. He couldn't bear it at the moment. It was too soon.
It was as though Molly recognized where his mind was, because she said, "Andromeda will be here later with little Teddy. So you can meet him for the first time."
"Teddy?" said Harry. Then he remembered, with another sick feeling in his stomach, that he had agreed to be Teddy Lupin's godfather last year. A child he'd never met, a child who would grow up parentless, an orphan before his first birthday...much like himself. "Oh, yes. Excited to meet him," Harry lied, though the thought made him more anxious than anything else that had happened that day.
Just when Harry thought he had endured the gauntlet of people eager to speak to him, a fresh pair of faces Apparated into the garden: Arthur and Ginny Weasley, arriving home from the Ministry. The tension in Harry's stomach evaporated at the sight of Ginny; she sprinted through the door towards him and they embraced in a tight hug. They broke apart, gazing into one another's eyes intensely, but before they could say a word Arthur had jostled in between them and embraced Harry himself. "Good to see you, boy!" Arthur laughed. "Though I reckon we can't call you 'boy' anymore, can we?"
"Good to see you too, Arthur," Harry smiled. He and Ginny exchanged knowing looks as people bustled about the room between them. There would be time to talk in private later. Secretly, Harry was glad for the delay as he hadn't yet worked out what he would say to her. They had so much to discuss.
Soon after, Molly called everyone into the kitchen for supper. She had magically extended the kitchen table to accommodate everyone, but it was still a tight squeeze; Harry found himself nestled in between Charlie and an older Weasley named Uncle Cadmus. "How's the dragon business going, Charlie?" Harry asked.
"Wish I could tell you," Charlie smiled sadly. "Haven't been involved since last summer, since I've been busy traveling abroad and recruiting fighters. I'm eager to get back to Romania in a few weeks."
"If the rumors are true," piped in Uncle Cadmus with a bellowing chuckle, "young Potter has had more exposure to dragons recently than you, Charlie!"
"Oh...erm, yeah, I guess so," Harry said with a sheepish smile, remembering the daring escape from Gringotts not even four days prior.
"I've always loathed the way those goblins treated their dragons," Charlie muttered angrily. "Good on you, Harry, freeing that Ukrainian Ironbelly. My contacts told me yesterday they're still trying to track it down! Hope it's never found to be honest..."
Harry continued to make small talk with Charlie about the dragon business, but he was preoccupied with other things. Like where all the rogue Death Eaters had gone after abandoning the battle. Like what the goblins might do in retribution for his break-in. Like what he was going to say to the young witch across the table from him, who kept stealing nervous glances at him and sweeping her fiery-red hair out of her eyes...
As dinner wound to a close, Harry realized that there was one person he had yet to talk to since arriving at the Burrow. "Where's George?" Harry asked aloud to no one in particular, and he saw the smiles on everyone's faces falter.
"He's been in his room mostly," Charlie sighed. "He's taking the loss a lot harder than everyone else. Hard to blame him, isn't it?" Harry couldn't argue the point. He didn't know what it was like to have an identical twin, but he'd never seen Fred and George apart and could only imagine the pain of losing your better half like he had.
Harry tried to help clear off the table as everyone stood to leave, but Molly shooed him away into the living room. He suspected she was relishing having so many people in her home again that she embraced the cooking and cleaning role that she'd so long been unable to fulfill. Harry joined Bill and Fleur on the sofa, where Fleur was telling him about some improvements she'd made to the area around Dobby's grave at Shell Cottage, when the back door opened and a middle-aged witch walked in carrying a small bundle of blankets. It took Harry a moment to recognize her: Andromeda Tonks, mother of Nymphadora, holding her infant grandson.
"Harry, dear!" she said with a pained smile when he stood to greet her along with everyone else. "It's been so long. I imagine you've been dying to meet little Teddy?"
"Oh. Yeah," Harry lied, and he followed her to the kitchen, where Andromeda set the child on the freshly-cleaned table. Harry's first impression was that Teddy looked like a little porcupine. He was unnaturally hairy for an infant, already sporting hair on his chest and back, and the hair on his head was spiked straight up in neat brown rows. He fidgeted about and looked curiously up at Harry.
"Look, Teddy, it's your Uncle Harry," Andromeda cooed softly to the baby. Teddy's reaction was to sneeze violently, causing his hair to turn bright green and flop to the side in a neat combover. "Right, that'd be the Metamorphmagus in him," Andromeda scowled. "Got it from his mother, of course. The hair would be thanks to his father, I reckon..."
"He's not gonna become a...you know?" Harry asked tentatively.
"Werewolf? No, we don't think so," said Andromeda, to Harry's relief. "Remus feared he might be, but he hasn't reacted to the moon at all. We've been feeding him Wolfsbane Potion just in case, but we...I don't think it's necessary anymore." Harry noted the strained way she said "we", realizing that she was now the sole person making these decisions about young Teddy. He averted her gaze awkwardly.
Meanwhile, Teddy was grasping for Harry's glasses. Harry obliged him, leaning down to allow the boy to pluck them off his face and put them onto his own. Teddy squealed with laughter, and his hair went shaggy and jet-black to imitate Harry's.
"Aw, I think he likes you!" Andromeda squealed with happiness. "He only mimics the people he likes. Would you like to pick him up, Harry dear?"
"Sure," said Harry, and with Andromeda's help he took little Teddy into his arms. Harry felt an odd mingling of emotions as he looked down into Teddy's innocent face. Grief at the loss of the boy's parents, two great people he'd looked up to immensely. Pity at knowing the kind of life Teddy had ahead of him as an orphan – the comforts he would be denied without ever knowing his parents. And a strange sense of foreboding that he should not get too close to this boy. That he might somehow accidentally project some of the evils he had witnessed onto him, tarnishing his innocence, much like his own was taken from him far too young…
"Actually, can you take him?" Harry said quickly, handing the baby back to Andromeda and extracting his glasses from Teddy's disappointed face. "I, erm...ate too much at dinner. A bit queasy, you see."
"I'm sure you two will have plenty of time to get to know each other soon!" Andromeda beamed, not sensing the sudden tension in the air. Harry forced a smile and returned to the living room, where he bumped into Molly again.
"Harry dear, I've got some fresh clothes for you to change into," she said, hovering a pile of clean folded laundry behind her. "Where should I put them?"
"Uh, I dunno," admitted Harry. "I figured I'd just stay in Ron's room like usual—"
"Actually mate," said Ron sheepishly, "room's full at the moment." Harry saw Hermione blush across the room at this.
"Hmm, we are a bit overbooked at the moment," Molly mused, thinking. "Where can we put you…"
"I've got a spare bed in my room," came a voice from behind Harry. Everyone turned to see George skulking into the room from upstairs, looking unkempt and like he hadn't slept in days.
"Oh Georgie, you don't have to do that," said Molly quickly. "We can find somewhere else to put him for the night—"
"Nonsense, everywhere else is full," George asserted. "You're with me, Potter, and that's final." He slung an arm over Harry's shoulder at this; there was a joking lilt to his voice, but Harry wasn't fooled by it. The usual lightness in George's demeanor had gone; he seemed far more dark and serious than Harry had ever seen him. And he suspected that, even if he wouldn't admit it, George wasn't used to sleeping alone and would like the company.
"Oh all right, if you're both okay with that," Molly huffed, and flicked her wand to send Harry's clothes zooming up the stairs towards Fred and George's old room. "George, there's some leftovers if you're hungry, I saved you a bit of everything…"
As George wandered off towards the kitchen, Arthur slid in to take his place at Harry's side. "Ron tells me you want to go to the Ministry tomorrow morning, is that right Harry?" he asked. "I can accompany you if you'd like."
"Oh no, thank you Arthur, but I can manage on my own," Harry said quickly.
Arthur leaned in a bit closer so that only Harry could hear him. "I can show you a more private entrance if you'd like," he whispered. "In case you want to avoid being swarmed by people in the Atrium."
"Oh," said Harry, suddenly grateful, "that does sound nice, actually."
"I'm due in at eight-thirty tomorrow, does that work for you?" said Arthur. "I'll walk you up to Shacklebolt's office myself."
As evening turned to night, people began trickling out of the Burrow to go upstairs or outside to Apparate back to their homes to sleep. Harry avoided bed as long as possible, which was an easy enough task as everyone was still so eager to talk to him. He listened to Arthur talk his ear off about Muggle contraband that had been tainted by Dark magic ("Cursed bicycles that carried their riders off of bridges! Can you imagine?"), then Percy droning on about how daft of a leader Thicknesse was at the Ministry last year ("Stupid git couldn't tell his wand from his forefinger..."), and finally Bill trying to needle him for information about how he'd managed to break into Bellatrix's vault ("You have no idea the amount of paperwork your little escapade created this week!").
Finally the last of the Weasleys had retired for the night. Harry reluctantly climbed the stairs towards George's room, knowing he at least ought to try to sleep for his big day tomorrow, though he knew it would be fruitless. George was asleep when he entered, or at least pretending to be, and Harry took the bed opposite the room. He stared at the ceiling for a while, feeling drained – he felt like he was being leeched upon by everyone around him, all looking to him as a source of comfort, of triumph. It was beginning to wear on him. But he would never complain – it was the burden he bore. The savior of the wizarding world, providing happiness for everyone around him even as it eluded himself. Eventually his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.