Disclaimer: It's all J.K. Rowling's.

A Note From The Author: Wow! I can't believe I have over 50 reviews for this! Thank you so much to all of you wonderful people. Just some comments for some reviewers: Aria*, Firebolt909, and anyone else who asked for H/G: I think you're going to like this chapter. J The anti-Fleur and KE Heyduk: You people have *got* to stop flattering me! No way is my style nearly as good as the great Ms. Rowling's. Now stop inflating my ego! :-D And A. Spinnet: Very good point about Parvati. I agree. I'm not too pleased with the way that scene turned out. Here you go:

Aftermath and Awakenings
Part V
A Harry Potter Fanfic by Aira

***

"It is terrible deeds like this that remind us why it is so important to fight the Dark Arts."

Dumbledore spoke these words calmly, but his blue eyes that looked around the Great Hall were full of grief. He continued in the same controlled tone. "I would like to explain to you why it is important that you resist the Dark Lord, why it is necessary that we unite for one cause. But the truth is that I cannot. You must answer that for yourselves."

Here Harry noticed the Headmaster's eyes linger on the Slytherin table for a while. "Now I ask you to make two toasts. The first is in memory of Susan Bones."

He raised his glass, and the rest of the class did the same, with the exception of some of the Slytherins. "For Susan," echoed the whole of the student body.

"The second," began Dumbledore, "is for unity, for without it there will never be victory."

As Harry raised his cup, he couldn't help but look at Malfoy, whose lips were forming a derisive smirk as he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle. "For unity."

Dumbledore sat down after that, announcing that dinner would commence. Still most food lay untouched.

*

Harry lied awake for a long time that night without being entirely sure why. No, wait, that wasn't quite true. He did know why. Susan's death was a symbol of everything that happened last year. Everything that he wanted to forget…

Harry sighed. Cedric dead, now Susan, Lord Voldemort with a plot to get into Hogwarts…it was all swimming in his mind. Thousands of questions nagged him, asking him how Susan had been murdered in such an improbable place, why Dumbledore had looked so grave telling him that he "had a plan to be put into place", how he could have let Cedric die…

It was that last one that, after all this time, still tore at Harry's heart. For the other questions he could invent speculative, creative answers to and move on. But to that one he could only relive that fateful night, and wonder. Had there been a chance for him to save Cedric? Could he have possibly stepped in and taken the curse himself? Logic told him no, nothing he could have done would have saved Cedric. But logic didn't lessen the heavy burden of guilt he wore on his shoulders.

*

Harry stared at the dorm ceiling and brooded for at least an hour. At which point he could take no more. 'That's it!' he thought decisively. 'I'll just go down to the common room and…and write a letter to Sirius or something.' Thus, he grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, and, feeling rather awkward, walked down the winding stairs to the common room.

When he arrived in the dark, yet comfortable-looking room, Harry was surprised to find that someone else was already there-who he couldn't yet tell. Embarrassed, he made a quick movement towards the boys' dorms, but he realized that whoever it was had already seen him; he or she made a noise as if they wanted to speak, but couldn't quite figure out what to say.

Harry turned around to see who it was. By candlelight, he made out a wisp of bright red hair, a pair of chocolate brown eyes, and a self-conscious smile. "Hi." Ginny's voice came out in a squeak.

"Hi." Harry was surprised to find that his voice sounded as gauche as Ginny's own.

Neither one knew what to say after that, never having conversed much with each other before. "Um…what's that you're holding?" Harry asked as he sat down, pointing to a small pad in Ginny's lap.

At this, Ginny seemed to become less tense; on the contrary she became warm and sincere. "It's my sketchpad," she said. "I love art."

Her words were simple, but her face was illuminated with joy as she spoke. "I thought so from the picture you gave me this summer," Harry told her.

At that, Ginny's face flushed in what appeared to be a combination of pleasure and self-consciousness. "You liked it?" she asked softly.

"Yeah. I mean, you're really talented and everything," Harry responded, hoping he didn't sound as stupid and babbly to Ginny as he did to himself.

Harry then noticed that even as they were talking, she had a pencil in hand and seemed to be drawing something. "Er-what's that you're drawing?" he asked, desperate to get rid of this strange awkwardness he felt conversing with a girl-his best friend's sister nonetheless-at 1:00 in the morning.

Ginny held her pad up, turning pink in the cheeks as she did so. Harry peered at it, curious as to the subject. The face of Bill Weasley stared back at him with an easygoing smirk and, of course, a fanged earring. Taken away by the realism of the portrait, Harry momentarily forgot the awkwardness of the situation. "That's great, Ginny! Do you have pictures of all of your brothers?"

Apparently art was a comfortable subject with Ginny; she relaxed considerably. "Yes." Giggling, she added. "I had to make two of Percy. Fred and George stole the first one so they could throw darts at it."

The two chuckled at that, and some of the tension seemed to be broken. "Ginny," Harry began hesitantly. "Why are you down here?"

"Other than to enjoy your exquisite company at this fine hour, Mr. Potter?" Ginny responded immediately in a somewhat sardonic tone, but then clasped her hand to her mouth in embarrassment.

Harry, however, was amused by this side of Ginny, which he had never seen before. "Your words wound me, Miss Weasley."

"In that case, Mr. Potter, I suggest you go to bed immediately, since it would be just such a shame if you end up falling asleep in class tomorrow because you stayed up listening to my wounding words."

At that, she put away her sketchpad and started up the steps towards the girls' dorm. But not before adding "Good night, Harry."

Harry watched her with an amused expression. He never would have guessed that Ginny Weasley, the shy, blushing little girl who had once sent him a singing valentine, was really a smart aleck in disguise.

But she never did tell him why she was in the common room at that late hour.

*

"How many times do I have to tell you, Longbottom, to add the boomslang after the daisy roots?"

Snape looked like he was about to say something more, but quickly stopped. The reason was obvious: Dumbledore had just entered, looking tired and grave. "If I may borrow Mr. Potter for a moment, Severus."

Snape growled, obviously displeased that he was missing an opportunity to make Harry's life miserable. But he could hardly refuse Dumbledore. The Potions master said only, in a very reluctant tone, that Harry had better come after to do the work he missed if he planned on passing.

The prospect of going to Snape alone to ask for work was so grim that Harry wasn't even that relieved at missing class. He was, however, quite perplexed as to why Dumbledore wanted him. Sensing his thoughts, Dumbledore said "I require your assistance in one of the protection spells for the castle."

Harry was bursting to know exactly what sort of "assistance" Dumbledore meant, but walking through the corridors was hardly the ideal place to ask that. "I shall give further detail when we reach my office," Dumbledore added.

"Er…Professor?" Harry blurted. "What's happening with-Susan?"

At this, Dumbledore's voice took a solemn turn and his eyes were tinged with grief. "Her parents took her body home this morning. She is to buried at her family's estate, with a private funeral."

Harry only nodded mutely, and soon enough he was facing the familiarly ugly stone gargoyle. "Jelly slugs!"

With that, Harry soon found himself in the large, circular room. Nor was he alone. "Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, fighting the childish urge to run up to his godfather.

Sirius greeted his godson with the utmost warmth, but Harry didn't miss the fear in his eyes. 'Everyone is afraid these days,' Harry thought grimly. Dumbledore didn't give Harry time to brood on that rather morbid thought for long, however.

"When Lord Voldemort took your blood, Harry, he was also depending on you for life. He became able to touch you. However, he also making it impossible for him to kill you, for blood magic is very powerful and cannot be broken easily. That, plus your link to him through your scar, is why I now also require your blood, to act as a barrier for the school. It is your choice, of course. But I ask this favor of you," Dumbledore said gently.

"Of course," Harry responded immediately, without giving much thought to what it was he was actually agreeing to. Anything he could do to help Dumbledore, and hurt Voldemort, was acceptable as far as he was concerned.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, though he smile was forced. "Shall we begin, then?"

"Er…okay."

Dumbledore handed Harry a small blade and a crystal glass apologetically. It was then that Harry realized, with shock, that he was going to have to take his own blood. Trembling, he brought the knife to his arm, and made a cut, every muscle in his body tensing. It did not hurt-maybe it was enchanted?-but the sheer mental anguish at seeing his own blood drip was more than Harry could bear, especially when he recalled the last time someone had stuck a dagger into him.

He quickly dropped the knife and picked up the glass, bringing it to his bleeding arm. Several drops of blood fell in the glass before his wound seemed to close up like a zipper, only his scar remaining. Evidently the blade was enchanted not only to be painless, but to ensure that only a certain amount of blood was lost.

Harry, Sirius, and Dumbledore stared at the glass for several seconds that seemed to drag out into hours. Finally, the Headmaster spoke. "Thank you for that, Harry."

"You're welcome," Harry mumbled, still a bit disconcerted by the sight of his blood. "Er-Professor, why is Sirius here?"

"To discuss a certain matter with me," Dumbledore answered calmly, but both he and Dumbledore tensed at the question.

Harry sighed internally. He missed the days of easy answers.

***

Author's Note: Well, I hope you liked that! More coming soon.