As it turned out, the answer to who was going to stop him turned out to be Hermione, which in hindsight he realized he really should've seen coming.
Padma and Harry had gone to the Ministry together at Parvati's insistence that she would be just fine on her own without her sister hovering around, and the two had quickly split up to work on individual aspects of their impromptu investigation. Padma had insisted on taking the crime scene reports, which Harry hadn't protested—he neither wanted to focus on reading them nor get between a Ravenclaw and information—so he'd ended up with the task of timing how long it took to get from Parvati's office to where he'd run into the Patil twins in the hall.
He was currently stalking his way through the halls of the Ministry, ignoring everyone he passed in the halls and tracking on his watch how long it took to make it from point to point. Four minutes. Not a lot of time, and not enough to definitively prove his suspicions, but enough that it still felt very unlikely the three aurors could've made it to the scene so soon after the explosion. However, depending on what Padma found in the report, it could still go either way.
But although Harry's intuition was telling him clearly what the answer was, and on top of that he was on leave and therefore under no obligation to be professional, he still decided to be thorough and time the walk once more. It was in the middle of that second trip down the hallway that he nearly collided with Hermione, and he realized that mistakes had been made on his part.
"Harry James Potter." Hermione said, and Harry stared at her as if she was an apparition. Judging by her expression and her next comment, she apparently thought the same about him. "I cannot be seeing you here right now."
"Right, I know," Harry said, deciding not to point out to her that she never actually told him he wasn't supposed to come to work, and so as far as she knew that he knew, he had every reason to be here. No need to get into that. "But if you could continue to not see me for at least another few minutes while I talk to Padma, I would appreciate it. I'll go back to the cottage afterward."
Hermione studied him for a moment, giving him the look that she usually reserved for Ron, but thankfully then moved to his side so she could walk with him instead of arguing. As he began leading the way again, glancing back down at his watch, she seemed to already be over her irritation at him and instead sounded curious when she spoke up again. "You've learned something?"
"I think so." Harry affirmed as they walked. "But Padma and I wanted to be sure of a few things first."
They made it back to Parvati's office and Harry noted the time—just under five minutes, including the brief pause to speak to Hermione—which lined up well with his previous experiment, and then continued the short distance to Padma's office. Padma was briefly surprised to see Hermione as the two stepped into the room, but didn't hesitate to explain what she'd found.
"The first muggle calls to their emergency services came in one minute before we arrived." Padma said, her expression neutral but with a hard edge to it that indicated she didn't like what she was saying. "Muggle police reports and wizard witness confirm that the explosion happened only a minute or two before that."
Harry nodded, the same strange mix of satisfaction and dismay from earlier settling in once more. "It takes four or five minutes to get from where we met in the hall back to Parvati's office."
"So you were right." Padma concluded immediately, and although Harry couldn't see Hermione's face from where she stood next to him, he could feel her posture shift as she put together the pieces for herself even before Padma explained what it meant. "There's no possible way the anonymous report could've been made after the explosion. Whoever sent it in knew what was going to happen."
Right. Great. Although Harry usually liked to hear that he was right, it was always a little hollow when he was right about something bad, and this was certainly bad.
"For what purpose?" Hermione asked as she broke into the conversation, her eyebrows furrowed. "Was it an attempt to catch you in the explosion itself, or to warn you of what the Death Eaters were going to do?"
"There are much easier ways to tip us off about Death Eaters." Harry responded, and while he knew that didn't necessarily mean it wasn't the goal, he also couldn't imagine that was the actual motive. The whole thing felt suddenly like a setup, which was a feeling he was all too familiar with, and he hated it; for a brief moment the urge to get out of this building and away from anyone he didn't know was almost overpowering.
Padma didn't argue with his conclusion, frowning at the files on her desk as if they'd tell her something new, and neither did Hermione, who gently linked her arm through Harry's in a gesture of reassurance. It seemed they were all in agreement, which was at least something.
"Well," Padma said after a few seconds of silence. "I'm going to take the rest of these reports back with me and tell Parvati what we've found out. I'll send you an owl if we think of anything important tonight, and we should meet up somewhere tomorrow if you aren't too busy with preparations to leave."
"I won't be." Harry assured her, because no matter how busy he may or may not actually end up being, he'd make time for this.
Padma nodded, and then a flash of the same look Harry so often saw on Parvati's face crossed Padma's as she responded. "Then perhaps we can also plan to go over the administrative work that'll need to be done in order for me and Parvati to take over your cases, but we'll need you to have written your case summaries for that."
Hermione only barely stifled a laugh and Harry sighed, but in actuality he felt a little relieved at the teasing. It brought perspective back. Whatever all of this meant, it was just one more in a long line of things that would be dealt with, and life went on.
But on the topic of perspective, he really should return the favor and bring some back for Padma as well when it came to the idea of Harry actually finishing paperwork. "Let's not assume I'll have that much time."
There was so much he needed to get done.
As he'd promised Hermione, Harry had returned to the cottage after talking to Padma, and had made an assessment of what needed to be accomplished in the next few days. He needed to finish his lesson plans, read his portion of Of Old Magick and Alchemy, visit Andromeda and Teddy, update Narcissa on the lack of progress and ask her if there had been any updates on her side of things, and probably also see if he could grab Kingsley for a few minutes of conversation. He even considered actually writing his case reports so that he could unexpectedly hand them over to the Patil twins the next day and feel very smug about it.
And yet he found himself wanting to do absolutely nothing.
It was all so overwhelming when he stopped to think about it. It wasn't so much the work tasks themselves—they were more annoying than anything else—but the more intangible parts of it all. What it meant that the anonymous report had been made before the attack actually happened, how the case with Greyback and the potions shops and the potential connection to the Forbidden Forest all fit together, and even his simple, mundane fear of not doing a good job as a professor.
And, of course, the rest of it. Why he'd seen Voldemort in that alleyway, and why he'd found himself in a place that was nowhere and yet infinite all at once. What it meant, and what was happening to him.
So instead of trying to scrape together the mental and emotional fortitude he'd need to even begin getting anything done, he just ended up laying on the floor in the cottage's living room, half-heartedly waving a cat toy for Crookshanks to chase until the cat eventually got bored and wandered off. Harry didn't bother to do the same, just sighing quietly and tucking his arm under his head as a makeshift pillow, zoning out as he watched Crookshanks wander around on his little cat adventures.
He laid there for about fifteen minutes until he decided that this was pathetic, even for him, and finally dragged together enough motivation to get off the floor. But the thought of being productive still caused dread to twist in his stomach, and so he decided to settle for doing something, even if that something ended up being completely frivolous. That would still be far better use of time than laying on the floor in a daze.
That was how he found himself in Diagon Alley, which was even more chaotic than it had been when he'd been there days before, as students rushed to do last minute shopping. Harry did his best to disappear into the crowd, not up for anyone stopping to talk to him, and that was thankfully easy enough to do with how busy it was; no one was paying attention to anything other than what they needed to get done, and since he was dressed casually rather than in his normal auror robes, he could easily be mistaken for a student himself.
He dipped in and out of a few different stores, simply following whatever caught his eye, letting himself be distracted by the general vibrant chaos of the wizarding world. It was one of those things he'd gotten used to over time ever since he first found out he was a wizard himself, but it still occasionally amazed him; it felt surreal, full of this whimsical energy that hummed throughout even the calmest of places, indescribable and yet so natural all at once.
But he was also very aware that it wasn't just that. For as bright and irreverent and joyous as magic could be, and as much as those feelings and the image they created settled once more into wizarding life, it was still possible to see what laid underneath it. What had shown through not just in cracks, but in gouges torn violently into the very fabric of their world. Everyone rushing through Diagon Alley at this very moment remembered how it had looked four years earlier, after it had been raided by Death Eaters.
They all remembered the cold and the silence that had clung to everyone and everything, as if their whole world had been wrapped in a layer of unseen fog. They all remembered the fear, the feeling of being unsure who to trust, of being hunted or being afraid for someone who was. And that could still be seen, if one looked closely enough; it was clear in the way parents pulled their children closer if they strayed even an arm's length from them, in the way that so many witches and wizards glanced over their shoulders with wariness in their eyes, in the way that even the older students held hands or linked arms for support and safety as they made their way through the crowd.
The war had ended years ago, but its echo still very much remained.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was just as packed as the rest of the shops, full of students stocking up on shenanigans for the school year ahead, and Harry was able to blend in amongst them easily enough. He spent a few minutes idly looking at various displays, lost in thought and not really taking anything in, until he sensed someone sidling up next to him. He did his best to ignore whoever it was, ducking his head a little to avoid being recognized, but his attempts were in vain.
"Harry?"
But instead of a stranger, the voice was one he recognized. Harry looked over to find Seamus Finnigan grinning at him, dressed in the bright magenta robes of a store employee, and couldn't help but give a small smile of his own. "Hi, Seamus."
Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus had all met up for a Gryffindor boys' lunch about a year before, which was the last time Harry had seen Seamus or Dean before they'd set off on a cross-country backpacking trip. Seamus looked pretty much exactly how Harry remembered him, other than that he was now sporting an attempt at a beard, which had been an idea Seamus had come up with at that lunch after he'd had a terrible time trying to convince the waiter that he was old enough to drink. He'd thought maybe some facial hair might help avoid such a situation in the future, despite Harry informing him from experience that it probably would not.
"How's that been working for you?" Harry asked, because he absolutely had to, nodding his head slightly at Seamus' beard. Seamus' grin just widened in response.
"Yesterday someone asked me if I was a fifth year, which is a big improvement on the usual."
Harry gave a short laugh, putting the merchandise he'd been holding back on the shelf. "Brilliant."
The two chatted for a few minutes, blocking out the noise of the chaos around them and catching up on the basics of what they'd missed in the last year. Seamus and Dean's trip had gone well, serving as a welcome escape from everything, and they'd only returned because they'd run low on money. Seamus had therefore picked up this job, happy to work with people he knew while doing something fun and low pressure, and Dean had landed some work of his own at a mixed muggle and wizarding art shop. Both only planned to stick around for a few months, intending to stay only until they'd saved up enough to go on another trip.
Harry in turn confirmed he was still an auror—and yes, that was indeed why he had the strange silvery mark on his face at the moment—but that he'd been asked by McGonagall to both teach this year and to assist in safeguarding the castle. Seamus seemed surprised, but gave a more genuine smile than Harry usually saw from him as he remarked lightly, "Well it's about time for a bit of a change, yeah?"
The two were soon distracted from their conversation by the sound of George's voice as he warned off some customer somewhere, and Seamus realized suddenly that he was supposed to be working and that he'd probably gotten away with slacking off for long enough. He and Harry said their goodbyes, and Seamus disappeared back into the crowd as quickly as he'd appeared.
Harry considered returning to window shopping, but decided not to bother after all and made his way toward the back of the store instead. Since George and Seamus were both out on the sales floor, that meant Ron was probably in the back again, and Harry let himself into the storeroom to look for him.
He indeed found Ron amongst the shelves, and although Ron was surprised to see him, he let Harry join in on unloading some newly ordered supplies. It was automatic, active work, which let Ron and Harry talk about whatever inane topics came to mind. Something light and distracting was exactly what Harry needed and, as he slowly realized, it seemed to be what Ron needed too.
Although he was doing a good job playing it off, Harry could see that Ron was unusually tense; his smiles faded a little too quickly and he couldn't always maintain his fake cheer for an entire sentence. Harry wasn't completely sure what was bothering Ron, and he wasn't totally sure he should even bring it up—Harry was never good at this sort of thing, despite how much he genuinely cared about his friends' feelings—but when there was a lull in conversation he decided to just go for it.
"Er, Ron, are you okay? You seem…" Harry trailed off, not sure of a way to describe it without being insulting, but he hoped Ron would get the idea.
It seemed that he did, but Ron didn't respond right away, instead focused on straightening a box to such a precise degree that it briefly reminded Harry of Umbridge. However, Ron did finally look back at Harry, pressing his lips together in that way he did when he was upset, and Harry suddenly wasn't entirely sure that Ron wasn't upset with him.
But Ron dispelled that thought a moment later when he shook his head and sighed, giving Harry a sideways glance. "Just had a rough few days. Which isn't your fault, before you get all apologetic on me." He added, effectively cutting off what Harry had been about to say. "But now we know something weird's going on, and we're going to be split up. I'm just worried, you know?"
Harry nodded, because he did indeed know. He knew Ron's fears, knew the ways the war had left its marks on him, knew what haunted him. Of course he'd been having a difficult few days.
"You could always come with me." Harry said, after a moment, and although it was a joke he was also entirely willing to make it work if Ron took him up on the offer. "You could take the cloak and sneak in with me, and no one would know until it was too late."
Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes, but a hint of a smile crossed his face for a moment. "Not a chance. Besides, then Hermione would be unsupervised, and who knows what she'd do without us around to distract her. We'd come back for Christmas holidays and find she'd been made Minister for Magic or something."
"You're probably right." Harry agreed, and silence fell between them again for a few moments. They'd touched on the real issue but hadn't actually addressed it, and Harry knew he needed to bring it back again.
"It'll be fine, Ron." Harry said, finally, trying to give off a confidence he didn't feel and do what Ron had done for him the night before. "You said it yourself, right? We'll figure it out."
"Yeah." Ron said, though he sounded unsure, gaze far away.
"Besides, I'll be a professor; I can just leave whenever I'm not teaching, and you and Hermione can visit. And even while I'm there, I still won't be alone." Harry reminded him, trying to reassure him further; he knew that wasn't the exact concern in Ron's mind, but it was close enough that it might help to address it. "Neville's going to be at Hogwarts too. If something happens, he'll be around to help."
"You're going to fill him in on everything?" Ron asked, sounding skeptical, and Harry wasn't sure if he was slightly annoyed by that or begrudgingly found to be a fair question.
"Yeah, I've got to. Not just for me, but we're working together on the rumors about the Forest and the possible connection to Greyback. He has to know what's going on." Not just for Harry's safety, but Neville's. Even entirely disregarding the strangeness of the whole thing and what it all might mean, knowing that he might be incapacitated without warning and not telling someone who might be relying on him in a dangerous situation was a terribly irresponsible thing to do. He wouldn't put Neville at risk like that.
"Okay." Ron said, and he did seem to be a little more confident about the whole thing. "Right. Well, at least Neville'll be there. If there's one person who needs supervision more than Hermione, it's you."
"Haven't the foggiest what you mean." Harry responded, and Ron snorted and shoved a box across the shelf at him.
They spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up various small tasks Ron needed to get done, which Harry assisted with how he could, but once only paperwork tasks remained he shamelessly abandoned Ron to handle them himself. In the meantime he allowed George—who had finally figured out Harry was lurking in the back offices—to drag him around the store and show him some new products, which culminated in Seamus demonstrating a new candy that allowed the consumer to exhale an icy mist. As George explained, pepper imps had been around for ages and were very popular, but the market for most other breath-related effects was still wide open.
Soon the shop was closed and Seamus headed out while Harry, Ron, and George went to gather Ginny and Hermione, having decided on another impromptu dinner together. Not only was Harry leaving soon, but George had declared it was necessary to celebrate Harry's latest survival of a near-death experience, and no one put up any argument to the contrary.
But although dinner was a nice distraction, the night was difficult.
Harry was so tired, but his mind was awake. In the isolation and the quiet everything he'd been putting out of his thoughts had come back, but not in a way he could ever hope to try sorting through; it was a storm that he could watch, but not control, and he wasn't sure if that was because he was unable to or if he was simply unwilling. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to follow the threads, didn't want to put pieces together and form the greater picture. He didn't want to see what it all meant.
But no matter what he wanted, something was happening. Something was really happening, and he couldn't deny it any longer.
He sat awake, curled up in the corner of his futon with his knees pulled up to his chest, head down as he took slow, steady breaths. It was fine. Nothing was worse than what he and everyone else had gone through before. It was fine. Whatever this was, it could be dealt with, it was just another challenge. It was fine.
But he didn't want to do this again. He was so tired.
He didn't remember his thoughts slowing enough for him to approach sleep, but it must have happened because he'd awoken in a panic, endless burning hands reaching out to him from a direction that didn't exist. His fingers trembling and his heart beating rapidly, Harry decided he was not interested in trying to sleep any more, and wandered out into the kitchen.
He wasn't sure if it was his fault that Hermione and Ron were awake as well, or if it was for their own reasons, but the two soon joined Harry in the kitchen and they all ended up having another very early morning breakfast. After they were done, Hermione settled into reading while Harry and Ron played wizard's chess, and at some point while resting his chin on his arms and waiting for Ron to make a move, Harry fell into a much more peaceful sleep.
It was Ron that eventually woke him up a few hours later, as Hermione was getting ready to leave for work and an owl had shown up with a letter addressed to Harry. He recognized the writing as Padma's, the message simply offering a place and time to meet up, and Harry sent the owl back with a confirmation. He and Ron said goodbye to Hermione and then resumed their chess game, which Harry promptly lost about five minutes later.
He spent the rest of the morning half-heartedly working on some of the things he needed to get done, unable to really put them off any longer and helped—or perhaps hindered—by Ron's input. Thankfully the case summaries were only going to the Patil twins and didn't need to be particularly professional, and so although Harry hadn't allowed all of Ron's editorializing to be included, some did make it into the final drafts.
After Ron left for work, Harry turned his focus to reading Of Old Magick and Alchemy, with the newer version he'd read before open on the table in front of him for comparison. Concentrating was still a bit of a struggle, both in general and because of the less than restful night, but he found himself much less listless than he was the day before and made a least some progress before it was time to meet up with Parvati and Padma.
Parvati had insisted on getting out of bed and so the meeting place had been set at a cozy tea shop at the very end of Diagon Alley, which worked for Harry because it let him order a ridiculous variety of highly sugary desserts and some very strong tea, both of which he desperately needed if he was going to be a useful part of this conversation. Once the three of them had settled in and received their orders, Padma got right to business.
She explained that she had attempted to trace the source of the anonymous report, which she knew would likely be a dead end—the whole point of anonymous reports was that they were anonymous—and it had been, at least in terms of figuring out who sent it. However, she'd discovered something else, which was that the report hadn't gone to Parvati's office first, but rather Harry's.
That in itself made sense; Harry was technically in charge of all the aurors who had been brought in as veterans of the Battle of Hogwarts. When Kingsley had told Harry that this would be the case, just after Harry had officially accepted the offer to become an auror only a few months after the war, Harry had initially balked at the idea. Not only had he not thought that he deserved the automatic promotion, but he was also terrified of the prospect of making a bad choice and getting someone killed; still, Kingsley had argued him that not only was Harry indeed the most qualified for the job, but the Battle veterans were in a unique position upon entering the Ministry. This group of people had not only grown up together, but they had faced challenges and hardships and war itself together. They trusted each other, something that could not be said of their feelings toward the Ministry, even a Ministry now rebuilding under Kingsley's command. Kingsley had had no delusions about the new aurors having any sort of respect, reverence, or faith in the Ministry as an organization, and he hadn't expected them to. But what they did have was trust and faith in Harry, and if they would follow the orders of anyone, it would be him.
In addition to the unusual nature of this group, circumstances also led it to make up a large portion of the overall very small pool of existing aurors. Many of the previously established aurors had been wiped out in the war or had retired shortly after the end of it, and several of those that remained had taken the positions guarding Azkaban now that Kingsley required that they do so instead of relying on dementors. This meant that Harry was typically the highest ranking auror available at the Ministry to respond to emergencies, and so of course the report would've gone to him first and only then diverted to Parvati—since she was his current partner—when Harry's office was found to be empty.
"That means that the report had to have been made even earlier than we thought." Padma concluded, drawing Harry from his thoughts and pulling out a scroll of parchment, unfurling it to show a timeline that she'd created. "It was initially sent to your office, but you weren't there, so it came to us. We went to look for you, then we all had to turn back to Parvati's office, and so when we reached the scene it had been nine minutes since Parvati received the report. However, since we know that the explosion happened—at most—only three minutes before our arrival, that would've been during the time that the three of us were on the way back to Parvati's office."
Harry frowned at the timeline, turning his head sideways so he could read it himself. "That means that if I had been to work on time, then I would've gotten the report. I would've then gone to Parvati's office to get the two of you, and we would have left immediately from Parvati's floo network." He said, and the twins nodded, agreeing with the hypothetical. "Without the extra trip from Parvati's office to mine, that means we would've left for the scene at least five minutes earlier than we actually did."
"And so we'd have there before the explosion actually happened." Parvati said, punctuating her conclusion with a sullen bite of pastry.
"That still leaves two very different possible motives." Padma said, a frown on her face as well. "Either we were meant to be caught up in the attack, or we were supposed to prevent it."
Harry had given his opinion the day before on which interpretation he thought was the most likely, so he didn't bother to repeat himself. It was clear that Padma hadn't changed her opinion either, and Parvati seemed to be in agreement as well; the three were quiet for a short time, lost in their own thoughts.
Harry was drawn back to the world around them as a presence loomed near their table, but he tried to pretend that he didn't notice for a few moments, hoping it was someone who would simply pass by.
"Mr. Potter?"
He wasn't that fortunate, apparently, and Harry looked up to find a man dressed in dark taupe robes standing nearby. It was always difficult to tell how old a wizard was due to their extended lifespans, but this man appeared to be in his fifties; he was slender and elegant, studious-looking but with a friendly smile on his face.
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Potter, but I wanted to introduce myself, since we'll be working together this year." The man said in a pleasant voice, still smiling. "I'm Forsival Scriven, the professor for the study of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts."
"Oh." Harry said, not at all articulately, but he was mostly focused on trying to quickly gather together enough energy to look and act somewhat professional on short notice. "Er, it's nice to meet you, Professor Scriven. I'd introduce myself, but…"
"No need, no need." Scriven agreed, extending his hand, which Harry shook politely. "I just couldn't pass by without saying hello, but I'm sure we'll be seeing plenty of each other in the future and so I won't keep you. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Potter."
"You too, Professor." Harry responded, and Scriven nodded politely to the Patil twins before wandering off toward the counter to make an order.
"I wonder how many new professors there are." Parvati said, as if the thought had just occurred to her, and to be fair it was just occurring to Harry as well. He knew, of course, that he was replacing someone who had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for the last few years, but he didn't even know who that was, let alone the other professors who might've come and gone. He hadn't paid any attention to that sort of thing when he'd visited Hermione, Ginny, and Luna the year they all finished up school.
"You'll have to tell us if anyone we like has left." Padma said to Harry, drawing his attention back to her, though her gaze was still on her timeline.
"Yeah, and keep us up to date on the latest Hogwarts gossip too." Parvati added, brightening a little from her previous gloom. "Now that you're a professor, you'll get to hear whatever they talk about in the staff meetings. Professor Trelawney used to tell me a little about them, especially when something dramatic happened."
Harry narrowly avoided choking on his tea at the thought of Trelawney rushing off to gossip to one of her favorite students, both because it was ridiculous and because he could easily imagine her dramatic voice and exaggerated gestures. Not for the first time, it struck him how weird it would be to be truly on the same level as the professors, not as a favorite student or a least favorite student or the wizarding world's best hope for victory. He'd just be another coworker, and that was all.
The three spent the next half hour finishing the desserts and their tea, finalizing agreements on how to handle assisting each other long distance as things might come up, and Harry indeed had the opportunity to feel very smug for a few minutes when he surprised the twins with his finished case summaries. Thankfully Padma didn't read far enough into them to get to the parts that had clearly been Ron's input.
After his meeting with the twins, Harry stopped by Andromeda's home both to talk to her and to see Teddy. Teddy had apparently already moved on from his obsession with praying mantises and was now focused on jellyfish, which included a very large and very squishy plush jellyfish that seemed to have been enchanted to float a short distance off the ground whenever Teddy let go of it. Harry was not pretending or humoring the toddler when he affirmed to Teddy that he thought the toy was very cool.
In a brief span of time while Teddy was out of the room looking for a coloring book, Harry told Andromeda about Dolohov. The cold, grim satisfaction on her face echoed Harry's feelings about the whole thing, both of them united in a silent understanding. With Dolohov in Azkaban and Bellatrix dead, Harry and Andromeda—and when he was old enough to understand, Teddy—were as close to having justice for Remus and Tonks as they'd ever really get.
Harry allowed Andromeda to convince him to stay for a late lunch that was a little more substantial than desserts and tea, and helped Teddy color for another hour or so. While he did so he also tried his best to explain to Teddy that he'd be going away for awhile for work, and so he wouldn't be around quite as much, but would still see him at least once or twice a month; thankfully Teddy took it very well. Andromeda helpfully explained that this might've been because the toddler didn't really have a great sense of time, and therefore Harry's concerns about Teddy possibly feeling abandoned were entirely unnecessary in hindsight, which he would've known if he'd just told her his concerns instead of silently fretting. Harry appreciated that she very politely didn't actually say the last part, even though he knew she was thinking it.
Harry returned to the cottage for dinner and the rest of the evening went better than the last, although Harry had the distinct impression that Hermione wanted to talk about something that was upsetting her. He considered doing initiating the conversation himself just to break the tension, but he wasn't sure that whatever that would lead to would be an improvement over the awkwardness, so he decided to leave it up to her. She never did bring it up, though he imagined she'd likely get to it tomorrow.
Although he didn't have the most restful night, he was feeling a lot more like himself again by the next morning. It was good timing, because this was his last day to get things done, and so he spent several hours running around to complete various errands. Ron had a day off and so tagged along, which made everything a lot more fun, even if being together meant they got distracted into a few detours along the way.
But finally, Harry's main to-do list was clear. He'd updated Narcissa, let Haley fuss over him during his follow-up appointment at St. Mungo's, and even managed to grab Kingsley for a brief conversation in between boring political meetings that Harry barely escaped being dragged into himself. They'd only had a few minutes, but Harry had quickly relayed to Kingsley what he and the Patil twins had found out, and Kingsley had been very concerned; he promised to look into a few things behind the scenes and see if might be able to glean any information the aurors hadn't, and to keep it as quiet as possible.
After retrieving Ron from Hermione's office—he'd run off there as soon as he and Harry had stopped by the Ministry—the two spent the rest of the workday celebrating their accomplishments by accomplishing absolutely nothing more, and instead playing backyard Quidditch for several hours.
Ron had, after his first six months working as an auror, bought himself a Nimbus 2001. Although it wasn't the latest model of broom by any means, it was still a great choice for the price, and Ron had been—and still was—delighted with his purchase; he took great, if slightly obsessive care of the broom, and everyone lovingly made fun of him for it, including Harry.
Not that Harry actually had any room to judge when it came to being overly attached to a fancy broomstick, however. He had, after all, spent an inordinate amount of money to repair a badly damaged but incredibly meaningful Firebolt.
After losing the broom during the Battle over Little Whinging, Harry had presumed it was lost forever, and had planned to consider purchasing a new one after the dust of the war had settled a little. But one day at the Burrow, about two months after the war and when everyone was feeling particularly restless, Ginny had made a wild suggestion: they should go look for Harry's Firebolt, just to give them all something to focus on.
They'd all known it was hopeless; the battle had taken place so high up, it had been so chaotic, and Harry only very broadly knew what area to search. But not only would finding the right place be nearly impossible, that was assuming the boom had survived the fall at all, which was only considered possible at all because it was a wizard's broom and there was a chance that the safety enchantments might've activated to slow its descent. Even so, it had been nearly a year since the Firebolt had been lost, and nature could've easily destroyed it in that time even had it somehow reached the ground completely intact.
Still, it had been something to focus on that wasn't the somber quiet, and so the group of Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and George had set out on a little mission. They'd flown out to the general location on the Weasley family's old brooms and George's new one, formed a search party, and then set out on what they all believed would be a completely pointless scavenger hunt.
And then, against all odds, they'd found it.
They'd all agreed that using the summoning charm was their best bet, and so had fanned out to cover more ground, although they all kept in sight of each other for safety. It had been about three hours, and Harry had been starting to lose his voice from his constant attempts at accio Firebolt, when Hermione had taken her turn to try the spell. Twenty seconds later, Harry had heard a whooshing noise, and the broom had soared into sight as if it had been just waiting for them to call out to it.
It was extremely worse for the wear, some of the tail branches broken and one of the footrests missing, but it was otherwise whole and it, most incredibly, it still flew. Harry hadn't been able to believe it for a few seconds, just staring in a stunned shock; something he'd lost, out of so many, many losses, had actually come back.
The broom had needed major repairs, but he'd had them done a week later in Diagon Alley; he'd been told he should probably just get a new one instead of paying to repair this one, since the damage was extensive, but Harry had insisted. This was his Firebolt.
It was the first thing Sirius had ever given him.
But with the joy, there had also been a moment of mourning. After they'd found the Firebolt, Harry had taken the time to reflect on another loss from that night, one he'd never truly had the chance to give the respect it deserved.
There would, of course, be nothing to find of Hedwig. She would've returned to the earth many months before, as was the nature of things, of life and death. Harry had felt her presence and absence as two halves of the same, and he'd said a silent goodbye to the air around him in hopes that she could hear it from where she was. She had been his first true friend, and she deserved to be remembered.
Harry had never ended up getting another owl, or a pet of any kind, despite having considered it on more than one occasion. Every time he thought about it, he'd thought of Hedwig, and had decided to put it off to another day. With how chaotic his job was and the fact that he lived with Hermione and Ron more than he stayed in his own house, it was probably for the best anyway. Besides, whenever he had the urge to play with an animal he had Crookshanks and Pig and even Arnold—Ginny's pygmy puff—to fill the void.
And speaking of Pig, he seemed to have decided to join Harry and Ron in the backyard. Ron jokingly threatened to make the little owl play the role of the snitch, but a two-person game of backyard Quidditch was unfortunately limited by its very nature to only the positions of chaser and keeper, which was not great for Harry; he wasn't a particularly talented chaser, and he made an even worse keeper.
In contrast, Ron was also not a great chaser but he was an excellent keeper, and so Harry's competitive nature was causing him great suffering as he quickly began to lose their game. First chess and now Quidditch. He really needed to stop playing against Ron for awhile.
But wouldn't that be happening anyway? He was leaving tomorrow.
Losing suddenly didn't matter so much, and instead it just became fun to watch Ron's delight every time he blocked a goal. Harry couldn't even be too bothered when Ron accidentally deflected the quaffle right back into Harry's face hard enough that it almost knocked him off his broom, and by the time Hermione returned to the cottage both Harry and Ron were exhausted and a little bruised, but laughing.
Hermione fussed a little over the fact that Harry hadn't even started packing, but Harry was pretty sure she was secretly happy to have an excuse to supervise and make sure he had everything he'd need. She did seem to have cheered up since the previous evening and it was only after packing and dinner, as darkness really settled in, that she finally broached the topic that had apparently been bothering her the night before.
"Are you feeling ready for this, Harry?" Hermione asked, as the three were gathered around the table; Ron was looking over some product designs George had sent him, Harry was reading, and until she'd spoken Hermione had been organizing stacks of parchment that Harry had no idea the contents of.
Harry looked up from Of Old Magick and Alchemy—he was on a short section that he vaguely remembered from when he'd read the later edition regarding witches who had a seemingly unnatural allure about them, which Harry presumed were probably just part-Veela and therefore not that interesting—to find Hermione staring at him with a look of concern on her face. Harry frowned a little, considering the question for a moment before giving an honest if slightly flippant shrug. "Even if I weren't, it'd be a little late to back out now, wouldn't it?"
"No." Hermione said, the concern on her face shifting slightly to take on a firmer edge. "No, it wouldn't be too late. You aren't obligated to do this, especially with everything that's just happened—"
"Hermione." Harry broke in, sitting up a little straighter and setting the heavy book on the table. He wasn't quite sure what about all of this was upsetting her, and it had been her who'd initially encouraged him to take the job offer, but he thought it might've been similar to what had been bothering Ron a few days earlier and so he tried to reassure her. "I'm okay. What happened was…" He faltered, not wanting to think too much about it, but quickly continued. "It was weird, and I'd be lying if I said I'm totally fine with it, but I don't think… I don't think going—or not going—to Hogwarts will make any difference when it comes down to it. I'm mostly just nervous about being a terrible professor."
"You won't be a terrible professor." Hermione assured him immediately, and although Harry wasn't totally sure he'd allayed her other concerns, some of the severity in her expression had faded. "We keep telling you that you're going to do just fine. But that isn't really the point, Harry, it's…"
Harry waited for her to continue, sharing a brief glance with Ron as he did, and Ron's expression of confusion which was absolutely no help to Harry in figuring out how to navigate this conversation. Hermione spoke again a few moments later, taking a deep breath and frowning seriously at Harry once more. "The point is that you shouldn't use leaving for this job as an excuse to run away from dealing with what happened a few days ago."
Harry knew what she was trying to say, and he knew she was just worried, but that didn't stop a flare of defensiveness from sparking through him at the words. "Right, I'm going to try not to take that as an insult." Harry said, insulted. "But I'm not running. I don't know how you expect me to be handling all of this, but I can deal with it; it isn't exactly the worst thing that's ever happened to me anyway."
"Yes, maybe, but you're about to return to the place where some of those worse things happened." Hermione countered, her voice quiet. "I know you've been back a few times, but it isn't the same, just visiting. It's—"
"You're the one who told me I should take this job." Harry interrupted, now feeling somewhere between confused and irritated. He wasn't sure of what was happening or how he was supposed to respond, and although he logically knew that Hermione meant well, it felt suddenly like she considered him completely incompetent or something. "Now you think I can't even handle being at the castle?"
"That's not what I'm saying!" Hermione protested, leaning toward him in agitation. "It's just, a lot's happened lately, and if you aren't dealing with it then adding more stress is just going to make it all worse."
"How exactly am I supposed to be doing that? Should I maybe set a schedule, so I can meet some minimum requirement for complaining about something that I can't do anything about; is that what you consider dealing with it? Is that going to somehow prove I'm actually fine? What do you want from me!?" Harry knew as soon as he heard how loud his voice was and how scathing his tone had become that he should take a moment to get his temper under control, but being angry felt good and the emotions that actually laid underneath the anger did not. Although he had come a long way from where he'd started in terms of being able to handle conflict, and he knew that it was better to explain how he felt and talk through it, that took so much strength for him to do and a part of him always found it so much easier to just fight.
But fighting with his friends was confusing and distressing, and as confident as Harry was at this point that Ron and Hermione weren't going to abandon him over an argument—they'd all been through a lot worse than that—it was still impossible to shake the quiet fear that one day they'd get tired of him, and that fear had only worsened now that something new was wrong and Ron and Hermione were being dragged into it. Harry was afraid that they'd realize they'd done enough, put up with enough, been patient enough. That they'd realize he was too much trouble and they'd be better off without him. That they'd realize they shouldn't still be stuck with him and all the problems that came with being his friend, because he wasn't supposed to still be here.
And now Hermione was crying, and it was his fault for yelling, and Harry didn't even feel angry anymore; the emotion had drained out just as quickly as it had set in, leaving only a sense of hollowness behind.
"I'm sorry, Hermione." He managed to say, and he meant it, even if the emotion was dull and far away and that surely reflected in his voice. "I shouldn't have snapped at you; I know you're just trying to help."
"No, it's… I shouldn't have kept pressing." Hermione said, trying to dry her tears with quick swipes of her sleeve as if no one would notice her doing so if she was just fast enough. "Of course you don't know what I want, I don't know what I want, except that I want you to be okay. And if you're ever not okay, I want to know that you'll let someone help you, even if that means you have to be the one to reach out and ask for it. Please, Harry."
Now Harry felt both guilty and stupid, because he'd been right from the start about what had been bothering Hermione. She had indeed been afraid of the same thing Ron had—that Harry would be alone and something terrible would happen—and if he'd just trusted in that and kept trying to reassure her, then they could've avoided all of this. But at least he could try to correct that now.
"I promise." Harry told her seriously, meeting her gaze as he did so before looking toward Ron, who had been silent for the whole argument; Ron's expression was serious but otherwise hard to read, but the fact that he'd been quiet meant he hadn't felt it necessary to step in, so he was probably alright. Still, the promise was to him too. "I promise I'll ask for help if I need it. I'll be okay, and I'm going to come back."
He wasn't disappearing into the Forest in the dead of night, in the midst of that horrible battle. He wasn't leaving them with no plan to ever return.
There was silence for a few moments, and then Hermione was out of her chair and had thrown her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. "You know we love you, right? I'm just…"
"I know." Harry told her as he tentatively returned the hug, and he meant it. "It's okay."
Harry sensed more than saw Ron move, and soon long arms had wrapped around both Harry and Hermione, which was awkward because of Harry's chair and yet also comforting all the same. Apparently Ron and Hermione felt the same way because after a few seconds there was a nervous giggle from Hermione, and then Ron started chuckling, and Harry found himself falling into weak laughter as well.
"We're so pathetic." Ron commented in exasperation. "Hagrid was being really generous when he called us a bunch of misfits."
"Speak for yourself." Harry responded, forcing some purposefully-fake arrogance into his tone. "I'm the Chosen One."
"What you are is an insufferable git." Ron told him in return even though he barely made it through the insult without his voice cracking in laughter, and despite having yet to lift her head from Harry's shoulder, Hermione's own giggling intensified. Harry sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but a deep sense of gratitude was chasing away that hollow feeling he'd been left with before. Ron and Hermione had chosen to stay with him, and Harry would do whatever was necessary to show them how much that meant to him.