The next day, Hogwarts was the epitome of chaos. All classes and tests had been canceled. The house elves were being distracted by the painful wails that had been emitting from Dobby ever since he had discovered the news. Owls had been sent out the night before and parents were demanding to take their children home. Reporters were hounding Dumbledore like an angry mob. The ministry was buzzing around interrogating Death Eaters with Veritaserum and taking them off to Azkaban. Experts were called in to assure the minister that the corpse was indeed that of the Dark Lord. Soon that was taken away, though nobody was quite sure what the ministry was going to do with it. Nobody wanted his body buried near their homes.

The ministry tried to take Harry's body as well, asking who wanted to make the funeral arrangements, but Dumbledore refused to let anyone take it and promised to contact them later about the matter.

Professor McGonagall hauled out and smacked Professor Trelawney with pure unadulterated fury when she had boasted about predicting the boy's death. The head of Gryffindor leapt at the other professor and began pulling her hair when the other professors broke it up. As they pulled her out of the room, she screamed, "If she can predict the future so well, why didn't she predict that one, eh?" as the Divination professor held her cheek in shock.

Professor Flitwick led her from the room, praising her for the long overdue wake-up call to the idiotic Divination professor, after getting her a strong cup of tea.

The Weasley's parents showed up hysterical as well, demanding that Dumbledore himself tell them exactly what had happened. When he was done, Mrs. Weasley cried for a half and hour straight before asking to see Harry's body. Dumbledore led Mr. and Mrs. Weasley into his private chambers, thankful that he had had the foresight to put a preservation charm on the boy.

They walked in to find Sirius sitting in a chair staring blankly at his godson. Remus was sitting beside him, whispering comforting things to Sirius, being the only one of the two who acknowledged the Weasleys' presence. He looked up and solemnly nodded.

They walked over. Harry's body was lying on Dumbledore's huge bed, making the boy look even smaller than he was. Mrs. Weasley stared down at the face of the innocent boy that she had begun to think of as one of her own.

She gently traced the lightening scar on his forehead with her fingers. She then bent down and kissed his forehead lightly, her tears dripping into his black hair.

"You've always made us proud, Harry. Always," she whispered before standing back up, wiping away her tears.

"How are you holding up, Sirius?" Mr. Weasley asked gently. Sirius looked up at them with a blank expression and just stared for a few seconds.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," he whispered, before breaking down in sobs, burying his face in his hands. Remus rubbed his back comfortingly, a sad look in his own eyes. The Weasleys looked at him helplessly. Mrs. Weasley turned to Dumbledore.

"I need to see my children now," she demanded, a slightly frantic look in her eye.

"And Hermione, as well, if her parents haven't arrived yet," Mr. Weasley added.

"The Grangers arrived a few moments ago and are in my office. I'm sure you remember the way to the Gryffindor common room. The password is Thotheka. Take the back way to avoid reporters," he said. Mr. Weasley paused before stepping back into the office.

"Have the Stensons been told?" he asked.

"Not yet. I'm ashamed to say they slipped my mind, along with the Dursleys," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "It's been very hectic."

"Don't worry, Albus, after I go with Molly to see the kids, I'll go inform them both myself," Mr. Weasley offered sadly.

"Thank you, Arthur, that would be a great help. The Stensons will be quite upset, I'm sure."

"Along with the Dursleys. I couldn't imagine losing a child I'd raised. I mean, I know they didn't always get on too well with Harry, but oh Merlin, they'll probably be devastated," Mrs. Weasley said wiping away a few more tears.

Dumbledore had a grim look and said nothing. They stepped into his office and met up with the Grangers who looked quite worried. The headmaster waved away a rather large portrait to reveal a staircase.

They solemnly nodded their good-byes and followed the house elf along with the Grangers.

When, at last, they passed the sniffling Fat Lady ("He was so young," she said tearfully.) and burst through the Gryffindor portal, they saw the Weasley children, along with Hermione, all mutely gazing into the fire. Their eyes were red and puffy from crying with slight circles from not sleeping the night before. At the call of their parents, they all turned their dazed expressions toward them, except for Ron who continued to stare blankly into the dancing flames.

The Grangers ran over and began comforting their daughter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley glanced at each other making a silent decision. Mrs. Weasley rushed over and swept up Fred, George, and Ginny, who began crying again in the comforting arms of their mother. Mr. Weasley put his hand on his youngest son's shoulder. Ron looked up in a dazed but slightly surprised expression as if he hadn't realized that his parents had arrived. He looked around taking in his surroundings.

"Ron, let's go for a walk," he suggested softly. Ron's expression pained, remembering Harry requesting the same thing to talk about Ron's crush on Hermione.

He numbly rose and followed his father out of the tower and down to the lake, where nobody else was. He looked around, remembering all the water fights, drinking pumpkin juice while dangling their feet in the water, and even the second task, when he had found out that he was the person Harry would miss the most. He saw the Quidditch pitch in the distance, recalling how Harry's eyes had lit up every time the sport was mentioned and their plans to play over the summer.

"Ron?"

Ron looked up at his father through a daze. He saw a confused man, unsure what to say. What could possibly be said?

Mr. Weasley was trying to conjure up something comforting to say, when Ron spoke.

"You know, I think he felt guilty about always coming over to our house. He never had anywhere he could invite us." He paused, looking at the Quidditch pitch again. "He was going to have a home this summer and invite me over to play Quidditch." There was another pause. "He never bragged about Quidditch even though he was so obviously good. He never bragged about anything. He never wanted to be famous," he said as though really realizing it for the first time.

"No, Harry was something special," Mr. Weasley added softly. Ron hugged his father and felt the man's arms wrap around him. He began to cry softly as his father embraced him.

"It's so lonely without him. Like there's something missing," he whispered, "and it hurts so bad."

Eventually, the two made their way back up to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione's parents had left after their daughter had denied the offer to take her home. They had all decided to stay at Hogwarts until the end of the year, which was only a week away. Mr. Weasley also said goodbye, as he was going to go to Privet Drive to inform the Dursleys and the Stensons of Harry's death.

Now the four Weasley children, Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione were all sitting around the fire with the common room to themselves.

"Maybe it's better this way," Ron said softly. George looked up at Ron painfully.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked quizzically. She had expected that.

Ron looked up at his sister. "Harry was dying."

There was a long pause as everyone absorbed the information.

"What?" Fred asked, shocked.

"He was going to die soon, before the end of the month," Ron said numbly. "He didn't want anyone to know because he didn't want people to treat him differently or feel sorry for him."

"Even us?" George choked out.

"Especially you," Hermione responded. "You were three people who he was close to that made him so happy. He said that when he was around you guys, he could temporarily forget the bad stuff. Like he was living rather than dying," she said quietly, fingering the bracelet Harry and Ron had gotten her for her birthday the previous year.

But I don't understand! What do you mean he was dying?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"You know Mr. Stenson?" Ron asked his family. They all responded with nods. "Well, he had this fatal Muggle illness called cancer and Harry could only find a spell to transfer it, not cure it, so, being Harry, he did the stupid spell to take the cancer himself and let Mr. Stenson live."

Everyone looked appropriately stunned.

"Wait, this was something he chose to do? B-but how could he do that? How could he act like Mr. Stenson was more important than him?" asked George shakily.

Ron and Hermione both shut their eyes tightly for several seconds, trying to hold back the tears.

"Because he believed that Mr. Stenson was more important. He said that Mr. Stenson had a family who needed him, like that justified it all. He—he didn't think anyone would really care if it were him to die instead," he choked out, before breaking down once again in sobs. The rest of the Weasleys were too horrified to comfort him. Ron took a few shuddering breaths to regain his composure. "I don't even know if he ever believed any different, no matter how much we tried."

"It was his family, I'm sure of it," Hermione added, tears sliding down her own cheeks. "They taught him that he was worthless, that nobody would ever care. We didn't have enough time to undo the damage. I mean, how much time does it take to undo something like that?"

"Wha-at?" Mrs. Weasley sobbed in horror. "How could he think that? He was like part of the family! Oh no, we should have taken him in more often. If I'd have known he thought that, we could have adopted him, we could've…."

"Mum, please don't," said Fred in an almost tortured tone. "I don't want to think of what we could have or should have done to make things different. It won't change anything now."

"Oh Merlin," whispered Ginny painfully. "Was it really bad?"

"He had some really awful days," Hermione added. "One time he collapsed in the hall. I thought that was it, and it almost was. I knew deep down that one time he wouldn't just come back, but he's escaped death so many times, I just couldn't help but hope that he'd do it again and that we'd still be able to celebrate his next birthday. You know? Just keep being the Boy-Who-Lived."

"I always wanted to throw him a little birthday party," Mrs. Weasley sniffed. "I don't think those relatives of his ever gave him a very good one."

Ron glowered. "The Dursleys never celebrated his birthday at all. They just gave him old socks and hangers when he was little before ignoring it all together."

"What scum," George said shaking his head.

"You have no idea," Ron muttered angrily.

"Did any of you know about the tutoring?" Ginny asked quietly.

"You mean how he was tutoring Eloise and Neville in potions?" Ron asked blankly.

This made Ginny smile. "So he kept his word," she said with a reminiscent look about her. "A while ago, right before the ball, I was in the library, having some trouble with my Muggle Studies, nearing a nervous breakdown because I couldn't understand it. The next thing I knew, Harry was there, asking what was wrong and offering to tutor me since he grew up with Muggles and he promised me he wouldn't tell anyone since I didn't want him to. I can tell that he didn't."

"No, he never told me about that." Ron said, a hint of pride in his voice for his friend's loyalty to his word.

Fred and George looked at each other. George nodded.

"You know our private investor for the joke shop?" Fred asked.

Mrs. Weasley gasped. "No," she said in disbelief.

"Yup, Harry threatened to hex us if we didn't take his tournament winnings for the joke shop."

"He told us not to let Mum know where we got it and he told us to buy Ron some new dress robes and say it was from us," George added. "That's why we gave him samples of all our new pranks for his birthday and Christmas."

The other members of the Weasley family had their mouths wide open. Hermione wasn't all that surprised. She knew that Harry didn't want the money and had wanted to find a way to give it to the Weasleys. She had been suspicious when she had first heard about the private investor, and now her suspicions had been proven correct.

"But that was a thousand galleons!" Mrs. Weasley gasped in shock.

"I know. We reminded him of that when he gave it to us, but he didn't want it. I don't think he could stand the memory associated with it. He said he thought everyone would need some laughs more than usual," Fred explained.

"The little dear," Mrs. Weasley said affectionately, wiping away some tears.

"So that's why he was laughing," Ron mused. "I asked him what moron would give money to Fred and George and he just laughed and said he thought it sounded like a good investment."

Everyone laughed, some through their tears.

"I'm really going to miss him," George said fondly.

"Yeah, you should have seen him, Mum. He saved this girl's life from Voldemort. He practically sacrificed himself for the school," Fred added.

"That's exactly what he did," Mrs. Weasley said. He explained to them exactly what Dumbledore had told him. Ron and Hermione already knew this, since Dumbledore had explained it to them after the attack, explaining that it Harry had to keep it a secret from everyone, even them, to make sure the plan wasn't spilt at the last moment by some outcry. At first, everyone was mad at Dumbledore, but as Ron and Hermione had done, the rest realized that it wasn't his fault. That it was Harry's decision in knowing that he was going to die soon anyway.

They heard footsteps coming down from the boys' staircase. They looked up to find Colin Creevey coming down the stairs with a small box in his hands, eyes puffy and red from crying. He had just lost his hero.

He walked up to the group and faced Ron and Hermione.

"Dennis and I thought you might want these," he said with a hiccup, thrusting the box at Hermione. "You were very lucky to have been his friend," he sniffed. He quickly turned around and ran back up the stairs.

Hermione lifted the lid of the box and had to choke back a sob. The box was filled with pictures of Harry and them. Everyone gathered around the small coffee table as Hermione began to take the pictures out one by one and set them on the table. There were multiple ones of the trio, arms around each other's shoulders, laughing and waving. There was one from a distance from the day Harry and Ron had had their water fight. Ron pushed Harry in the lake and Harry laughed, splashing him back and running after him with the pot of water. Another with the two sitting at the lake with their feet in, chatting away. Silent tears dripped down Ron's face.

She pulled out more pictures of Harry in his Quidditch robes, flying in matches. There were pictures of the party after winning the cup. The picture of Ron happily called the little chant they had done and then turned and pulled Harry up onto the stage before jumping down, both of them grinning broadly.

"That was the Quidditch Cup party," Ginny explained to her mum.

There were some more pictures of that day, with Harry saving Malfoy; Harry being carried off to the hospital wing; Harry being pulled through the porthole to the common room by the twins who each put an arm around his shoulders with cheery grins; Harry and Ginny walking with their arms around each other's shoulders and the pair talking together.

Then there were pictures of the dance. Kota messing up Harry's hair and him swatting her hand away indignantly.

There was a picture at dinner where Harry whispered something to Ron and they both sniggered behind their hands. Ron desperately wished he remembered what Harry had said.

There was Eloise and Harry making funny faces at the camera and then some of them dancing together, Eloise laughing as Harry twirled her around. There were some of the other couples as well.

"Oh you look so handsome Ron, and you look beautiful Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said tearfully. "Oh and Fred, George, you two look wonderful."

Hermione pulled out the next picture and when setting it on the table, Ginny burst out in a sob before biting back her tears. It was her and Harry dancing cheek to cheek. Her picture-self was obviously on cloud nine. Harry was smiling peacefully, slightly stroking Ginny's hair, oblivious to the camera. In the background, there was George and Kota watching the two as they danced, grinning with glee and sneaking glances over at someone out of the picture, who they guessed was Fred. Ginny was entranced with the picture, along with Mrs. Weasley, who Ginny had always talked to about her crush on Harry.

"Oh sweetie," she whispered tearfully as she hugged Ginny to her side.

Ron pulled out the next few pictures, one with Harry and the twins walking through Hogsmeade, Harry wrapped in Fred's cloak. The twins' throats tightened as they remembered their time with the boy they considered a second little brother. Now Harry's reluctance to talk about summer in that conversation made sense, and it hurt them to think that Harry knew for so long that his time was quickly running out.

Hermione pulled out the next picture, of Harry and Ginny sleeping on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny looked at the picture fondly. She told the story behind the picture, also explaining that it was her that had set up the Cho spectacle earlier in the day.

"You did that?" George asked in awe.

"What did Harry say?" Fred asked curiously.

"He said…" she took a deep breath to get control of her emotions, "he said he thought you'd be proud of me."

George pulled her into a hug. "He was a very smart guy."

Everybody winced at the use of the past tense in describing Harry, who, just the day before, had been alive.

"It's not fair," Ginny said quietly, picking up the picture of her and Harry sleeping. "It shouldn't have been Harry. I mean, hadn't he done enough already?"

They went through the remaining pictures, of the huge war for the camera in the common room after the Weasleys and Hermione had found Harry and Ginny on the couch together. The pictures were so recent, yet they seemed ages old. It was hard to believe that only the day before, Harry had been alive.

The last picture in the box was the most recent, with the trio asleep in Harry's bed just the previous week.

"You guys weren't all sick on that day, were you," George asked quietly, yet it wasn't really a question.

Ron shook his head mournfully. "Just Harry. A really bad day for him. We couldn't leave him like that."

"Nobody had ever taken care of him when he was sick before! Can you believe that? It was kind of cute though. He was so embarrassed with all of us taking care of him; it was like he didn't even know how to act," Hermione said wistfully.

"How could he just leave like that?" Ron asked looking at the pictures, eyes welling up with tears again. "How could they just take him away?"

Ron put his head in his hands and began to sob once again. Hermione slid an arm over his shoulders and let her own tears fall onto Ron's back.

Meanwhile, Mr. Weasley had Apparated to the edge of Privet drive and gravely made his way to Number four. He knocked on the door softly, hearing heavy footsteps on the other side.

The door swung open to reveal Harry's Uncle, who was wearing a hat that looked a bit awkward, as was pulled down quite far on his head. His expression, upon realizing who exactly was at his door, turned furious. He looked around quickly to make sure none of the neighbors would see this strange man at his door.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed angrily.

"I have some bad news, is your wife at home? I think you both might want to hear this," he said, trying to keep his calm.

"Well, come inside," Uncle Vernon said after an internal debate. "Come on, quickly now, before the neighbors see" he said in an annoyed tone, impatiently gesturing for the redhead to come in, closing the door quickly behind him. "God can't you people dress normal?" he added under his breath. Mr. Weasley looked down at his clothes. He was dressed like a Muggle, though his clothes were worn and perhaps a bit mismatched. He had found nothing wrong with them.

"Petunia, you'd better get in here. One of those people are here," he called, spitting out the word 'people' as if the word was too good for what he was describing. He eyed Mr. Weasley suspiciously, as if the man would attack at any second.

"People? What are you talking about, darling?" she asked, coming out of the kitchen, also wearing a hat. In seeing Mr. Weasley, her expression went from falsely cheery to cold. "What are you here for? Did the boy get into some sort of trouble?" she asked with annoyance.

Mr. Weasley took a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. He knew Harry's relatives were rude from their last meeting, but this was just ridiculous. He reminded himself of why he was there.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, you may want to sit down," he said grimly. "I have some bad news."

"Look, I'm quite busy, so just tell us this bit of news so we can get on with our day, all right?" Vernon asked impatiently.

"Well, I'm sure Harry's told you about You-Know-Who, or, er…I guess you'd know him as…um…Voldemort, since that's what Harry calls him," he said, shuddering slightly at the name.

"Who is this? Another one of the boy's freak friends? Get to the point," Uncle Vernon said, crossing his chubby arms. Mr. Weasley gaped at them.

"Harry never told you about the Dark Lord? The one that killed his parents and has been after him for years?" he asked, trying to jog their memories.

Aunt Petunia shrugged, almost looking bored.

"Oh, well, he's a dark wizard who…" started Mr. Weasley.

"Don't say that word under my roof!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

"What word?" Mr. Weasley asked, completely confused.

"I think you should leave," Harry's uncle said furiously, starting for the door.

"Look, I'm not sure what I said to offend you, but please hear me out. It's about Harry," he said desperately. Uncle Vernon stopped and reluctantly turned to listen. "Listen, as I was saying this man's been after Harry for years, and, I really don't know how to tell you this, but last night, he broke through the wards at Hogwarts. Harry fought him and protected the entire school. Your nephew made a tremendous sacrifice. He brought down the Dark Lord, but he could only do it by giving up his own life. I'm so sorry."

The pair looked at him, stunned.

"The boy's dead?" Aunt Petunia asked in surprise.

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry. Harry was almost like a son to me. My kids are devastated and I know this must be hard, but if you need anyone to talk to, we're here. I'm sure we're only feeling a fraction of the grief you must be…"

"Wait, he can't be dead!" Uncle Vernon said angrily.

"I know, that's what I thought at first. It just seemed like Harry was invincible, but he really was just a fifteen year old boy," Mr. Weasley said sadly.

"No, you don't understand. Listen, we had a bit of a run in with one of you and they gave us these horrible ears and tails, and we were going to have the boy undo them this summer. If he's not coming back, then you've got to take them off," Uncle Vernon explained menacingly.

"Please, I haven't been able to go out anywhere without these bloody hats. You don't know how hard it is!" Aunt Petunia pleaded.

Mr. Weasley looked at them in disbelief. "Do you understand what I just said? Harry, your nephew that you've raised since he was one, is dead. He was murdered last night. Don't you understand that?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, we bloody understand. We're not idiots. That's a real shame. Now can you remove these bloody things?" said Uncle Vernon impatiently.

Mr. Weasley looked at them in disgust. "Your nephew's dead. Harry, perhaps one of the kindest, bravest kids in the world. It was an honor that you were entrusted with his care. There are people all over Britain that have never even met Harry that are crying over his death, and you don't even care!" he shouted.

"Hey, don't you lecture us!" Vernon snapped. "You don't know how hard it was, raising that little freak. We had to feed him and clothe him and put a roof over his head with our own money, and he was nothing but an ungrateful little brat! He ruined our lives. If you ask me, good riddance to bad rubbish!"

Mr. Weasley was practically shaking with rage. "How DARE you." He held himself back from attacking Harry's relatives. Barely. "Where are Harry's things?"

"What things?" asked Aunt Petunia.

Mr. Weasley ground his jaw in frustration."His things that he doesn't take to Hogwarts with him. Clothes, old toys, books, you know. His things," he explained as if talking to a couple of morons. He couldn't help it, he was so angry. "The people who actually cared about him, will want them."

Harry's aunt and uncle exchanged a look.

"If we give them to you, will you take off these things?" Vernon asked, gesturing toward his head, which was still covered in a hat.

"Fine," he said in annoyance.

Aunt Petunia stepped to the side and pointed toward the door to the cupboard under the stairs. "If he has anything, it'll be in there," she said impatiently.

"What about in his room?" Mr. Weasley asked.

The Dursleys exchanged another look.

"He got the right to a room revoked," Vernon said abruptly. "His own fault, you hear. Got to draw a firm line to keep the discipline with that one. We already went through there, and there's nothing of his."

Mr. Weasley looked at them without comprehension at what Vernon meant exactly. He stepped up to the door, unlocked the deadbolt and swung it open. Inside, he found not the boxes of Harry's possessions he had expected, but instead, along with some cleaning materials, there was a small cot with a ratty sheet on top of it. There was a small box with a couple of Harry's Muggle shirts and socks, all filled with tears and holes. Stuffed in a corner was an old teddy bear, missing an arm and an eye, with a few letter D's scribbled on it in large black marker, which in turn had red marker scribbled on top. Mr. Weasley could guess that Harry's cousin had gotten to the toy and had tried to mark it as his own, and Harry had later tried to scribble the markings out.

There were a few books for younger kids in the same corner, but had the name "Dudley" written on the covers. On top of the pile was a small box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and an old chocolate frog, along with a note with Ron's handwriting saying "Harry, don't even think about opening this until Christmas, or else! Hope you're having a good holiday! —Ron."

"This is where he slept?" His voice trembled as he took in the dusty cupboard. "You KEPT him in here?" He reached in and grabbed the bear and the note, putting them both in the box that held his few clothes when something caught his eye.

He looked into the box and pulled out the bottom shirt. It was covered in dark stains. He looked curiously at the bed and saw the same stains covering the sheets and pillow. He pulled out his wand.

"Lumos," he said quietly and light illuminated the small room. He knew immediately from the reddish-brown color exactly what they were: blood.

He backed out of the cupboard shakily. He held up Harry's bloody t-shirt for the Dursleys. "What did you do to him?" he asked menacingly.

The two stared at his wand in fright, saying nothing.

"You—you abused him, didn't you?" he asked, voice shaking with fury. "You HURT him!"

"N-now wait a second. You don't go accusing us. That brat made me lose my job! He ruined our lives! Everything was perfect before he was dropped on our doorstep! You don't know what it's like!" Vernon insisted, taking a step back.

Mr. Weasley looked around their house, for the first time noticing the huge pictures of the Dursley family and their son, not a single one containing Harry. He looked back at the cupboard door, the heavy locks on the outside taking on a new meaning.

"You're monsters. You don't deserve to live," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. Both the Dursley's eyes flew to his wand. They both obviously thought he was really going to kill them.

"It was Vernon. It was all Vernon. I tried to stop him, but he's so scary when he's drunk, you've got to understand!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, stepping away from her husband while pointing an accusing finger at him. Uncle Vernon's jaw dropped.

"What the hell are you doing, Petunia?"

"Listen, don't kill me, it was all him. I couldn't stop him and his drunken rages. I had to protect my son!"

"Bullshit! Who was the one closing up all the window blinds so the neighbors wouldn't see? You're the one who came up with the brilliant idea to make the cupboard his room, remember? Said his kind had to be locked up. Said they were like animals!"

Petunia shook her head wildly and backed away from her husband, pointing. "He—he's the one who beat the boy! I had no part in that."

"Oh, don't you go accusing me of it all," Uncle Vernon bellowed. "Who wouldn't let him have any food and gave him all those bloody chores? You starve the boy and work him halfway to death, and then you blame me?"

"Who's the one who threw him through our coffee table? Or put a gun to his head? Or stabbed him? You're the reason we got these damn things in the first place!" she screamed, gesturing toward her head.

Mr. Weasley watched the pair rat each other out in horrible shock. How had all of this happened without Harry telling them?

Aunt Petunia turned to Mr. Weasley. "He did it all! He beat the boy! I couldn't stop him! See, you can see the bloodstain right there on the carpet. It's right there!"

Mr. Weasley felt sick as he saw a large, faded, reddish-brown stain on the carpet, only feet from where he was standing.

"It was Vernon! That's where he threw him through the table—"

"You double-crossing bitch!" Vernon bellowed. "Like you had any problem with it! You're the one that kept insisting that we needed to crush all that freakish nonsense out of him!"

"ENOUGH!" Mr. Weasley roared, unsure if he could stand another word. He felt extremely nauseous and quite shaky. He couldn't stand being in the house any longer. "I suggest you tell me where the Stensons live this instant."

"They're at number nine," Aunt Petunia said quietly, her eye resting back on the wand.

"How could you? He was just a boy!," he hissed. "You'd better pray you get your soul sucked out of you by a Dementor before Harry's godfather gets his hands on you. I would kill you myself if I could stand to be in the same house as you for a minute longer without vomiting. I suggest you start praying to any god you can think of for forgiveness, because I assure you, the wizarding world will show you no compassion," he said, his voice dripping acidly. He grabbed the small box of Harry's things and walked out the door, shooting one last disgusted scowl at the two before slamming the door behind him.

He was shaking as he walked down the street to number nine, feeling a bit dazed. He couldn't believe what he had just heard and was still trying to absorb the information

He clutched the box under one arm and walked up to the Stenson's front door. He took a calming breath as he rang the doorbell. He stood on the doorstep, hoping for a more upset reaction.

Mrs. Stenson opened the door. Upon realizing who it was, a big smile crossed her face.

"Oh, Arthur! How are you? Here, come on in!" she said excitedly, opening up the door and gesturing for him to come in.

He nodded with a sad smile and stepped inside. Upon seeing Mr. Weasley's solemn expression, Mrs. Stenson immediately became worried. "Arthur, is everything all right?" she asked, shutting the door behind him.

"Are Rick and Dakota home? I have some bad news," Mr. Weasley said sadly.

Mrs. Stenson's face went pale as she realized what the news would probably be.

"K-Kota, Rick," she called up the stairs, "Come down please. Arthur Weasley's here." She led Mr. Weasley into the living room as her husband and daughter came down the stairs.

"Hey Mr. Weasley…is something wrong?" Kota said, freezing at seeing the look on his face.

"Is something wrong with Harry?" Mr. Stenson asked with something akin to panic in his eyes. His eyes flicked to the box under Mr. Weasley's arm.

Mr. Weasley took a shuddering breath as a tear escaped his eye. He wiped it quickly away and set the box down. "I—I have some bad news."

"Oh God no," gasped Kota. "He's not…"

"Please, sit down."

"No, no, no, no," Mrs. Stenson said, shaking her head as she sunk down onto the couch.

"Please tell me he's not dead," Kota pleaded desperately. Mr. Weasley lowered his gaze.

"Oh God," Mr. Stenson said miserably.

"I'm sorry. Last night he…" he trailed off, not being able to say the words. Kota's breathing became erratic with grief and panic. Mrs. Stenson burst into tears.

"Oh God, it should have been me," Mr. Stenson moaned.

"It wasn't—it wasn't the cancer," Mr. Weasley said, swallowing a lump in his throat. The three heads shot up and looked at him in confusion. "You know about the dark wizard who was after him."

"That Voldemort person?" Mrs. Stenson asked, remembering Kota relating the story to her.

"Yes. He's been after Harry for awhile. I don't think even Harry knew how horrible of a wizard You-Kno…Voldemort was. I mean, Harry was just one year old when he brought him down the first time. He never really knew of the horrible things the Dark Lord did, the fear he caused. But, last night, Voldemort managed to break into Hogwarts. Of course, Harry, being Harry, sacrificed his own life to bring down the Dark Lord. He killed Voldemort, but not before Voldemort killed Harry," Mr. Weasley explained with much difficulty.

Dakota stared at Mr. Weasley for a few seconds before she stood up and ran up the stairs. The three adults heard a door slam above them. Mrs. Stenson quickly followed her.

"I just came from the Dursleys," Mr. Weasley said slowly, watching for the other man's reaction. Sure enough, Mr. Stenson scowled deeply at their name.

"Those bastards," he spat quietly.

Mr. Weasley nodded. "Did you know about…" He didn't know how to phrase the question, but both pairs of eyes fell on the box of Harry's things, and the bloody shirt that was laying on top.

"The abuse?"

Mr. Weasley nodded miserably. "You knew? How?"

"Pure chance that we found out, really. Harry hid it frighteningly well. Last summer, we saw the bruises. He had handprint-shaped marks on his neck for God's sakes! I almost killed his uncle for that and probably should have. It would have kept all that other stuff from happening," he said with a distressed sigh.

"Other stuff?" Mr. Weasley asked weakly.

Mr. Stenson looked up at the redhead sorrowfully. "Do you remember when we ran into you at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," he said, bringing up the memory. He shut his eyes tightly in realization. "He had that cut and bruise on his face. That wasn't his cousin. It was his uncle."

"No, and it wasn't the worst of his injuries."

Mr. Weasley looked up at him, not sure if he really could stomach knowing the rest, but needing to know nonetheless. "What did they do to him?"

"Apparently, Harry's uncle got fired from his job. The rumor is that he kept showing up to meetings drunk and made a fool of the company in front of some important clients, but anyways, he blamed Harry. Thought he did it using magic," Mr. Stenson explained.

"You can't do something like that with magic!" Mr. Weasley interjected.

"Well, you know that, and Harry knows that, but Harry's uncle didn't know that. He attacked Harry. Stabbed him with a kitchen knife, and from what I was told by Mr. Snape, he would have let the boy die had Mr. Snape not, by some miracle, got there in time."

"Professor Snape?" Mr. Weasley asked in surprise.

"Yeah, he somehow had found out about some other instance of abuse that Harry hasn't told us about and knew to go check on him, thank God. I mean, Jesus, Harry very nearly died that night, he lost so much blood! How could someone treat somebody like that? Especially a kid, a kid they raised! How could somebody do that to Harry?" he asked, shaking his head dolefully.

"Merlin," Mr. Weasley whispered. "Oh Harry, why didn't you say something?"

"He was apparently a very secretive kid. He must have felt like he had to take on everybody else's problems on himself. It was like he didn't want anyone he cared about to go through any pain, but thought it was okay to take it all on himself. I couldn't believe it when I found out he had taken on my cancer himself. What was he thinking? He was just fifteen! He hadn't even begun to live yet."

"Well, everyone was always telling him he was supposed to be a hero. And he must have thought he was worthless because of what his relatives did to him. The two put together are not a good combination," Mr. Weasley said regretfully.

"The two of those put together is Harry," Mr. Stenson said sadly. Mr. Weasley nodded.

The two men sat in silence while upstairs Kota sobbed into her mother's trembling shoulder.

Meanwhile, in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Professor Snape held up a beaker filled with an emerald green potion. There was no way to test it. In theory, it could work, but there was only one shot. If it failed, then all hope would be lost.