"Nice place you've got here, Wednesday."
"We like it. It's so nice and gloomy."

Mr. Hilliard and Wednesday Addams

Chapter 20: Going Home

Erica floated in and out of consciousness. She heard some strange things… some garbled things… She sometimes saw something weird, or something bright that caused her to close her eyes again. Some of the things she saw and heard were so strange she was sure she was dreaming.

But eventually, Erica became aware of herself again. And she wished she hadn't.

Her whole body hurt. A lot. Her brain was fuzzy, and her sight was as well. She blinked a few times, and her vision became clearer. Her mouth was dry, like it had been full of cotton for a week. She swallowed, trying to get her mouth to work properly again.

"Miss Addams?"

Madam Pomfrey bustled over, instantly noticing that Erica was awake. "Sit up, sit up."

She helped Erica sit up. Her entire back cracked as she did so, and her sore muscles pulled. Madam Pomfrey stacked up the pillows, and helped Erica lean back on them, still mostly sitting up.

"Drink this."

Madam Pomfrey practically poured the potion down her throat, but it instantly cleared the cobwebs away. Erica felt better.

"Thanks." Her voice was a little hoarse, but it was relatively strong.

Madam Pomfrey ran through a lengthy check-up, ranting as she did so.

"Using such a curse on a child… Unacceptable… Completely deplorable… Could have killed her… I can't believe this… Dangerous… What were you thinking… Could have gotten killed… See you underplay your injuries this time… Love to give him a piece of my mind… My patient… Get better… Hmph…"

Erica simply let the matron do her job, moving or breathing or talking when prompted. Her gaze wandered around the hospital wing. It was empty. Well, except for her.

And Harry.

And Harry!

"Is he okay?" Erica gasped, her eyes falling on her unconscious fiend in the bed just next to hers.

"He will be," Madam Pomfrey harrumphed. "After care and plenty of rest."

Her tone suggested that Erica wasn't getting enough of that. As if Erica hadn't been sleeping for what felt like weeks.

"What… What is that?"

Erica's eyes fell on the other side of her bed. A table was there, laden with sweets and gifts and cards.

"Gifts from your friends," Madam Pomfrey said flippantly.

Erica frowned, confused. She didn't have that many friends. Then she swallowed. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days."

Erica's eyes widened. Three days?

"Now…" Madam Pomfrey looked grumpy. "Despite my protests… You have a visitor."

Erica frowned again. No one knew she was awake yet. Who could possibly be visiting her?

Professor Dumbledore strode into the hospital wing.

Erica swallowed. Oh, she was so being expelled, wasn't she?

But Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled happily. "Ah, Erica. It pleases me to see you are awake and well."

His smile was genuine, and Erica couldn't help but smile shyly back.

"Thanks, Professor. How did you know I was awake?"

"Ah, I have been checking in on you and young Harry since I brought you to the hospital wing three days ago," he said. He came to stand between her and Harry's beds. "It was time for my daily visit. Plus," his eyes twinkled, "I had a feeling."

Erica hesitantly smiled. Of course he did. But nothing else could be said because Harry suddenly groaned.

Dumbledore leaned over his bed a little. A few seconds later, Harry opened his eyes. He blinked once. Twice.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry stared at him. Then he remembered. "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Erica's hurt! Sir, quick —"

Erica was surprised by Harry's outburst, but then felt her own worry begin to creep in.

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," Dumbledore said. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I —"

Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Erica giggled lightly. The matron definitely wasn't shy about shooing people out of her hospital wing.

Her giggle reached Harry's ears, and his head snapped in her direction. He saw her there, tired but smiling and okay. He relaxed.

"You're okay?" he breathed.

"I'm okay," Erica confirmed. She frowned. "I think." She giggled again. "Seems you are, too."

Harry smiled, relief flooding him at the sight of his friend. Then his eyes fell on the table next to her bed.

Erica saw his gaze. "You've got one of your own."

Harry looked at the table next to his bed, which was piled high with what looked like half the candy shop. The other half was on Erica's table.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," Dumbledore said, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you, Erica, and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a pair of toilet seats. No doubt they thought it would amuse you both. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated them."

Erica snorted. That sounded exactly like something they would do. She was almost disappointed she didn't get to experience the sheer confusion of waking up and seeing a toilet seat next to her bed.

"How long have we been in here?" Harry asked.

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you both have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"But sir, the Stone —"

"I've been wondering that, too, Professor," Erica added.

"I see you two are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you, Erica."

"He didn't even know I had it," she said. "He thought Harry had it."

"Ah," Professor Dumbledore said. "I see. Most fortunate. I arrived in time to prevent him from killing Harry and discovering you had it, although, you two were doing very well on your own, I must say."

Erica flushed. She didn't do anything. She had sat there and done nothing while Quirrell tried to kill Harry.

"You got there?" Harry asked. "You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to see Erica pull Quirrell off you —"

"Erica?" Harry gasped. "That was you?"

Erica flushed. "Don't sound so surprised. You were in danger. I needed to do something. It was the only thing I could think of."

"And it saved his life," Dumbledore soothed her. "But you both passed out just after. And I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were," Harry said, "I couldn't have kept him off me and away from Erica and the Stone much longer —"

"Not the Stone, boy, you — the effort involved nearly killed you. And the extreme pain Erica experienced with the following energy she expended getting to you nearly killed her. I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Erica gasped. Harry looked just as shocked. "But what will happen to Nicolas Flamel and his wife?"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" Dumbledore said, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?" Harry said.

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry and Erica's faces.

"To one as young as you both, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things human beings would choose above all — the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

Erica couldn't imagine living forever. She would rather die from lycanthropy than be forced to live with it forever.

Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" Harry said. "I've been thinking… Sir — even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who —"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

Erica felt a bolt of fear shoot through her. Her encounter with Voldemort would haunt her for months. Years.

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share… not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies."

"That's what Erica said," Harry cut in. "She told Quirrell that."

Erica shifted as Dumbledore's piercing, curious gaze fell on her.

"I… I tried to keep his attention off the mirror long enough for help to come. I tried to goad him, told him Voldemort wouldn't reward him, that he was trying to get the Stone for nothing, that he had failed his master too many times to live. It worked a little, but not as much as I wanted. "

"That was very brave, Erica," Dumbledore said slowly, but honestly. "And very smart. By vying for more time, by distracting him, you ensured he didn't get the Stone. You ensured yours and Harry's survival. And that is something to be proud of."

Erica flushed, both embarrassed and proud. Dumbledore continued his previous thought.

"Nevertheless, while you and Harry may have delayed Voldemort's return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me… things I want to know the truth about…"

Erica had a hunch where this was going.

"The truth," Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well… Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

That's the great mystery, isn't it? Erica thought. No one knew why Voldemort had targeted Harry all those years ago. Only that he had.

Dumbledore sighed very deeply.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day… put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know."

It didn't really sit well with Erica that Harry was being denied the reasons for why he had lost his family, and why Voldemort had targeted him, but she trusted Dumbledore. And Erica got the feeling that it was a sad, dark story. One Harry, very likely, wasn't ready for.

And Harry must've known it would be no good to argue, because he moved on.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, and Erica became fixated on smoothing the creases in her blanket, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he found his voice again, Harry said, "And the Invisibility Cloak — do you know who sent it to me?"

To his surprise, Erica grinned.

"Professor Dumbledore did, of course," she said.

Harry gaped.

"Your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Useful things… your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

Erica snorted.

"And there's something else…"

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape —"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him — Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes…" Dumbledore said dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt… I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace…"

Erica snorted again. That did sound like Snape.

"And sir, there's one more thing…"

"Just the one?"

"How did Erica get the Stone out of the mirror?"

Erica perked up. She had been wondering that as well.

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — could be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking the Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes… Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them — but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

~)8(~

Only thirty minutes later, Harry fell asleep, still exhausted. As soon as he did, Professor Dumbledore pulled up a chair by Erica's bed, his eyes more serious.

"Now… I imagine you have some questions of your own, Erica."

Erica exhaled and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." She bit her lip, trying to decide where to start. "The curse… The curse Voldemort used on me… What was it?"

Dumbledore sighed, and he suddenly looked much older.

"I was afraid you would ask that, but alas, I shall not lie. It is called the Cruciatus Curse, or the Torture Curse. One of the three Unforgivable Curses. It causes extreme pain, tortures the one under its influence. Prolonged exposure causes loss of consciousness, even insanity." Alarm shot through Erica, so Dumbledore quickly reassured her. "Do not worry… Madam Pomfrey has assured me, and you, that you are perfectly okay. No long term physical effects." His eyes grew sorrowful. "Though, the emotional and mental imprint of it does not easily leave us."

Erica sighed. "I'm used to pain," she whispered. "You know, with my condition and everything. But this…" She shivered.

Dumbledore looked unbelievably sad, and gently patted her hand. "I'm sorry you had to experience it. I wouldn't wish such an experience on anyone. Not even Lord Voldemort."

Erica sighed, but decided not to think about it anymore.

"Can I ask… Did you suspect Quirrell?"

Dumbledore sighed, and didn't answer for a minute. "I had… suspicions," he admitted. "And Severus confided in me that he, too, suspected Quirrell. But the man was much changed after his sabbatical. He used to be the Muggle Studies professor here, then he asked for a year-long break, to further his studies. I have deduced that this is when Voldemort found him, or perhaps the other way around. Quirrell always was intelligent. But with his cover story of meeting a vampire in Albania, no one had reason to question his changed behavior."

Erica nodded. She couldn't argue with that. His cover… It had been good. Very good.

"Anything else, Erica?" Dumbledore prompted gently.

"I…" Erica screwed her eyes closed. "Are we in trouble?"

"What?" Dumbledore seemed truly shocked by the question.

"Well… We broke so many school rules! We snuck out after hours! Went to out-of-bounds areas. Put ourselves in extreme danger. Not to mention we had no proof of our theories and accusations and we could've ruined lives and gotten people killed and gotten ourselves killed and —"

Erica cut herself off, suddenly unable to breathe. Tears leaked from her eyes. She gasped, a hand flying to her chest. It was like a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed. Her head felt like it was in a vice. Her vision blurred. All she could hear was her rushing blood and heartbeat.

Then a wave of cool air washed over her, and it startled Erica out of her panic attack. She inhaled deeply, and the rush of air cleared her brain.

She took a few shaky breaths in… and out… in… and out…

Her tears slowed, her breathing calmed.

"Thanks, Professor," she murmured.

Dumbledore nodded. He eyed her.

"Erica, why would you think you're in trouble?"

"I just… I lost one school for something that wasn't my fault… I thought I was going to lose this one for my own actions. I thought about it earlier, but I knew we could be expelled for going down the trapdoor. I still did it, because I knew that stopping Quirrell and Voldemort was more important, so I went. But I still… I can't shake this feeling that — that you still have half a mind to get rid of us — and that you would be right to. I can't… I can't —"

Erica forced herself to breathe deeply.

"I can't lose Hogwarts, Professor. I can't."

Professor Dumbledore gently soothed Erica, and when she was calm once more, he looked her in the eyes.

"You are not in trouble, Erica," he said. "In no way whatsoever. I am proud of you. To stay with your friends… To go with Harry despite knowing the risks, and knowing the potential consequences… That is admirable, Erica. That shows just how brave you are. Just how good of a friend.

"Make no mistake, Erica. You are not in trouble. You never were."

Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly, and Erica felt herself deflate with relief.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

~)8(~

Later, Harry woke from his nap, and met Madam Pomfrey personally for the first time. She was a nice woman, but strict.

"Just five minutes," Harry pleaded.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in…"

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different, quite different. You need rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey…"

The nurse peeked over at Erica's equally pleading face, and relented.

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let Ron and Hermione in.

"Erica! Harry!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around them again, but both of them were glad she held herself in, as they were both very sore.

"Oh, Erica, Harry, we were sure you were going to — Dumbledore was so worried —"

"The whole school's talking about it," Ron said. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions where the true story is even more strange and exciting than their wild rumors. Harry and Erica told them everything: Quirrell; Erica's suspicion of Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" Ron said finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that — what was it?"

Erica picked it up. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"I always said he was off his rocker," Ron said, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you two?" Harry asked.

"Well, I got back all right," Hermione said. "I brought Ron around — that took a while — and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall — he already knew — he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he? And Erica's with him, isn't she?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" Ron said. "Sending you your father's Cloak and everything?"

"Doubt it," Erica frowned. "That would be dangerous and reckless. No, I think he sent Harry the Cloak because it was his father's, and rightfully, Harry's. Dumbledore knew it wasn't his to keep."

"Yes!" Hermione agreed vehemently. "If he did — send it because — I mean to say — that's terrible — you could have been killed."

"He's a funny man, Dumbledore," Harry said thoughtfully. "I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could… But I also think Erica's right. He gave me the Cloak because it's rightfully mine now."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," Ron said proudly. "Listen, you guys've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course — you missed the last Quidditch match, Harry, we were steamrolled by Ravenclaw without you — but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she said firmly.

~)8(~

After a good night's sleep, Harry and Erica felt nearly back to normal.

"We want to go to the feast," Harry told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes. "We can, can't we?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are both to be allowed to go," she said sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. Erica smiled fondly at the nurse. "And you have another visitor."

"Oh, good," Harry said. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down between Harry and Erica took one look at them and burst into tears.

"It's — all — my — ruddy — fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" Harry and Erica gasped together, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard.

"Oh, Hagrid." Erica took one of his enormous hands into both of her own and squeezed soothingly. "It's not your fault. Not at all. Please don't blame yourself."

"Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow," Harry said, obviously in agreement. "This is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could've died!" Hagrid sobbed. "Both of you. An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, we've got loads…"

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" Harry said anxiously, and at least Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. Erica giggled beside them.

"Nah, Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead — anyway, got yeh this…"

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos… knew yeh didn't have any… d'yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

And all Erica could do was smile.

"I got yeh somethin' too, Erica. Here."

He handed her another handsome, leather-covered book. But instead of being filled to the brim with photographs, it was blank.

"I know yeh like to draw and write," Hagrid said. "Figured yeh could fill it yerself, with yer own memories. Make it yer own…"

And again, all Erica could do was smile.

~)8(~

Harry and Erica made their way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. They'd been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving them one last checkup, before they left. The nurse shoved a last potion down Erica's throat, grey with blue smoke, before letting them finally leave.

It was quiet between them. There was no need for conversation. But something was nagging at Harry. Something he couldn't let go unsaid.

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

Erica was startled. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I didn't think about what you were risking by coming with me. I forgot that you, that we all were risking losing Hogwarts by going down there. And you… you already lost one school. I'm sorry I didn't realize I was making you risk losing a second. So… I'm sorry, Erica. Truly."

Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen Erica look so stupefied, so shocked into silence. But there she was, gaping at him, her mouth open and eyes wide.

"Oh, Harry…" Erica suddenly threw her arms around him. "Oh, Harry… Thank you." She pulled away. "But what I did — following you down there — if I had to do it all over again, I would. I would. No hesitation, no regrets."

She smiled at Harry, so genuinely it made his heart ache a little, and he couldn't help but hug her again.

What they had shared down in the dungeons, their shared experience with Quirrell and Voldemort… Nothing would ever break that bond now.

Nothing.

No more words needed to be exchanged between Erica and Harry, and they walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall together, a strong change in their friendship. When they got there, the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harry and Erica walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. They slipped into two seats across from Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at them.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before the next year starts…

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with two hundred and eighty-two points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, five hundred and two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banding his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore said. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," Dumbledore said. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

"First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley…"

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second — to Miss Hermione Granger… for a cool head in the face of danger, and willingness to jump all in, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were a hundred points up.

"Third — to Mr. Harry Potter…" Dumbledore said. The room went deadly quiet. "… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points."

Erica hugged Harry so tight he thought he'd need to go see Madam Pomfrey again for broken ribs, and broken eardrums due to the roaring cheers of the Gryffindors. And it wasn't just them. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were cheering too. But eventually, everyone fell into an anticipatory silence. They all knew what was coming next.

"Fourth — to Miss Erica Addams… for insight into her enemy, pure strength in the face of danger, and courage worthy of Godric Gryffindor himself… I award Gryffindor House sixty points."

Erica couldn't think, let alone react. Her? Courage worthy of Godric Gryffindor himself? Her?! But everyone else seemed to agree — Harry squeezed her tight and people from all over the table were straining to pat her on the back. Hermione was sobbing and Ron was cheering as obnoxiously as Fred and George, who cat-called her from down the table.

The din was absolutely deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had five hundred and two points — exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the House Cup — if only Dumbledore had given Erica just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," Dumbledore said, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Erica stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one bit. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… he would never, ever forget tonight.

~)8(~

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione and Erica, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Erica even had beaten some of the second and third years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," Fred Weasley said sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into Platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station.

The four Gryffindors said good-bye on the platform, knowing that Erica wasn't able to come outside the barrier with them.

"You must come and stay this summer," Ron said, "all of you — I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'll need something to look forward to."

Erica hugged him tight. "If you need anything, just send me a letter," she said. She handed him a slip of paper with her physical address on it, and a small stack of stamps. "Just in case."

Harry hugged her again.

Erica also hugged Ron (who moaned at her, red in the ears) and Hermione (who hugged her back so hard she thought her ribs might bust).

People said goodbye to Harry everywhere.

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," Ron said, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," Harry said.

"Ron, tell your sister and mom 'Hi' for me!" Erica said. She picked up her luggage and strode in the opposite direction of the barrier. "Bye, guys! See you soon!"

Erica was accosted by different people trying to get to the fireplaces. Fred and George, who squeezed her between them in a hug while lamenting that she never received their toilet seat gift. Dean Thomas, who patted her back and told her to keep in touch over the summer. Neville, who waved shyly at her, red in the face. Even Lavender and Parvati, who thanked her for helping Gryffindor win the House Cup.

Seamus Finnigan was near the fireplaces, waiting for one to open up.

"Cheers, Erica," he said. "See you next year."

"See you next year," she said. "I'll send you some American soda this summer!"

"Cheers!"

Then Erica took a punch of the Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace. The familiar green flames licked harmlessly around her. "The Addams House!"

And Erica zoomed home.

The house was quiet when she felt herself come to a stop. Erica ducked out of her fireplace, taking in the scent of pancakes and bacon and freshly washed linen. She smiled.

"Mom! I'm home!"

That's all folks! Here concludes the first part of Erica's story, and she has a long way to go. I hope you enjoyed it!

I have mentioned this briefly before, and I added this note to my profile, but I will no longer be updating in . I promised to complete my existing stories, but I will no longer be posting new stories here. There are too many glitches and ads and a severe lack of management. From now on, my primary account is going to be Sammiemoosam on Archive of Our Own (AO3). If you would like to keep following along with Erica's story, that is where you will find us. I hope to see you there, and if not, thank you all for joining me.

Happy reading and writing to you all!

Sammiemoosam