Disclaimer: Checks driver's license Nope. Still doesn't say "JK Rowling." I guess that means that she still owns this stuff, not me.

Chapter 4
-OR-
"A Brief History of Tomorrow"

With Hermione's help, Ron managed to make it down the hall to the Potter's library. If he was indeed at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, his friends had touched it up quite a bit in the time since Ron was last there. Gone were the relics of Sirius's mother, including her portrait. The embalmed house-elf heads were replaced with candelabras, and the peeling wallpaper and dirty carpets were all gone. Ron would not have recognized the place, had it not been for Hermione, pointing out things he would remember.

"See that discolored spot on the wall? That's where Mrs. Black's portrait was...we couldn't remove all traces of it...and the old gas lights had to go, so we put in electric..." By the time he got to the library, Ron was exhausted. Harry waved him in and motioned to a chair. Hermione let him sink into the overstuffed easy chair and bustled off to get him a drink. Ron looked towards Harry.

From his chair behind his desk, Harry looked almost imposing. For the first time, Ron became acutely aware of the sudden difference in ages between the two of them. Harry still had disheveled dark hair, but it drooped messily rather than sticking out, and it showed some early signs of graying. His round glasses, rather than the taped and often cracked pair he used to wear, were now rimmed in gold. Harry's face showed signs of age, too--for one thing, he needed a shave. Lines marked his face and made him look older than his twenty-six years. His trademark scar still showed through his bangs, but he now had a second, thinner scar along his left cheek.

The greatest sign of his friend's aging, though, was something Ron had a hard time naming. Something in Harry's posture or in his bearing indicated that the ten years between he and Ron were hard ones. His shoulders slumped a bit, and his eyes looked tired. For a man who had not yet reached thirty, Harry seemed positively old.

"Ron," started Harry, sounding much more upbeat than his demeanor showed, "I'm sorry we left you hanging there. I realize we didn't tell you much..."

"That's for sure..."

Harry flinched a little bit. "And I remember how aggravating that can be. So please accept my apology. My first of many." Ron looked back at his friend, wanting to be angry, but finding he couldn't. All he felt, to his surprise, was pity. What happened to you, Harry?

Before Ron could answer him, Hermione returned. Ron noticed that Harry's eyes lit up briefly when she walked in, then settled back to their slightly deadened state.

"I hope you're in the mood for tea, Ron," said Hermione as she poured him a cup. "I thought maybe something hot..." Ron smiled appreciatively.

"I guess this is the part where we answer all your questions, mate," said Harry as he pulled out a chair for Hermione. "Again, I'm sorry for not answering earlier..." Ron waved off his apology. "Do you want to ask questions, or do you want us to...?" His voice trailed off.

Faced with ten years' worth of history to learn about, and with a host of questions buzzing in his mind, Ron's jaw just moved up and down for a moment before he blurted out the first question that came to mind.

"Is my dad really the Minister of Magic?"

Harry grinned, giving Ron another glimpse of the Harry he knew. "Yeah! It really surprised us all, but we support him all the way."

"Harry's been one of your father's biggest public supporters," added Hermione. "How did you know?"

"I read the Daily Prophet that you gave me," said Ron, "I couldn't believe it."

"He's been right popular, mate, really he has," said Harry. "He's actually in the States right now, at a conference with their Minister of Magic. We're still awaiting the return owl, but I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"What about the rest of my family? Or anyone else? I mean, what happened?"

"Is that all you want to know?" Hermione said with a smile. Ron's ears got a little red. "Don't worry about it. You want to talk, Harry, or should I?"

"Go ahead, sweetheart," said Harry, who settled down further into his chair. Ron turned expectantly towards Hermione, who took a deep breath and began.

"You were really missed, you know that? Dumbledore called a special school assembly to address the problem...it really shook everyone up." Hermione did not look like she was enjoying telling this story. "He-- Dumbledore, I mean--actually apologized to the school for not being entirely forthcoming about the Gateway he was keeping there, and..."

"Wait a minute," said Ron, "What's a Gateway? Is that what we found?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "It's short for Aeternus Gateway. They're...complicated. I know a little bit more about them..." At this, Hermione snorted. Harry ignored her and continued, "I know a bit more about them now than we did then. All he told us was that it was an experiment that he was personally running, because he thought it would help against Voldemort."

"So he blamed himself more than anyone else, Ron," said Hermione. "While he told Harry and me later, in private, that we should have known better than to mess with something that complicated, he mostly blamed himself." Ron felt a pang of guilt for putting his friends through such a trying time.

As if he read Ron's mind, Harry quickly added, "Any blame that Dumbledore didn't take himself, I take. That's the second of many apologies...that day I lost control. I'm sorry." Ron, remembering first the crazed look in Harry's eyes in the Room of Requirement, then the tired look from a moment ago, managed to mumble an "it's all right," but Hermione kept going.

"Actually, just a few weeks after your, um, death, the trouble really started. Voldemort, I mean--Harry and I were still really upset about what happened..." Ron nodded, and she continued. "He started his attacks then. He started by attacking Muggles--not half-bloods, or wizards and witches of Muggle parentage, but innocent, oblivious Muggles. The Ministry had to scurry all over Britain to hush it up, much less catch those responsible. While the Ministry was busy with the attacks, a number of Death Eaters attacked Azkaban and freed the Death Eaters there. Malfoy, Lestrange...all of the ones we stopped the night at the Department of Mysteries...they all escaped right away.

"As you can imagine," Hermione continued, "Hogwarts was falling apart. Those that had grown up in the magical world had been raised to fear Voldemort so much that it was only Dumbledore's presence that kept them from total panic. Those from Muggle families weren't much better off, because all of Voldemort's targets so far were Muggles."

Harry interrupted at this point. "I had no great adventure that year, no final battle with Voldemort's forces. My struggle--our struggle" he added, looking at Hermione, "was to simply survive that year. Dumbledore called on us to keep the morale up, and we did what we could, but any hopes we had of sending our classmates off in a good mood were destroyed when Voldemort himself appeared at the Ministry of Magic and assassinated Fudge. Everyone panicked."

"Fudge got it?" asked Ron incredulously, "Who took over for him?" Harry and Hermione looked at each other before answering.

"Umbridge," they answered in unison.

"WHAT?! That hag, Minister of Magic?"

"She may have been atrocious, Ron, but she was anti-Voldemort," said Hermione. "Clueless though she was, she had seniority, and she just got the position. Frankly, no one really thought it mattered...most people thought all was lost."

"Just because Fudge got it, people thought everything was lost?"

"It wasn't so much that Fudge died, it was that he died, literally, in his office, by Voldemort himself," said Harry. "The Order wasn't really publicly known, so everyone saw the Ministry as the trustworthy, go-to group."

"Besides," added Hermione, "we could all tell that the Ministry wasn't going to do much in the fight against Voldemort. It was just too disorganized. Only the Order would matter, so it didn't really matter who took Fudge's place."

Harry continued. "What no one realized--no one but the Order, I guess--is that killing Fudge was a diversion."

"What on earth could a stunt like that have been a diversion for?"

"Anything, Ron, it could have diverted attention from anything," said Harry, with a tight grin across his face. "As a matter of fact, though, at the time Voldemort was infiltrating the Ministry, Lestrange snuck into the Durselys' house and killed them."

Ron just stared at Harry, trying to fathom why the Dark Lord would kill the Minster of Magic to divert attention from the murders of three rather clueless, if nasty, Muggles. Unable to come up with anything, he shrugged. "Why would he do that?"

"Because, Ron," said Harry, "the greatest protection I had from Voldemort was not Dumbledore, but the shield my mother created by dying for me. That shield was supported by the Dursleys, as my remaining relatives. So no matter how awfully they treated me..."

"...Vol--er, You-Know-Who couldn't hurt you!" finished Ron. He was glad that he was following this at all.

"Right!" said Hermione, "so Harry couldn't return to the Dursleys that summer, meaning he was vulnerable."

"Dumbledore realized something else at that point," said Harry. "Voldemort tipped his hand. The only reason to strike against the Dursleys was to get at me..."

"Which meant that Harry was Voldemort's main target," finished Hemione. "He wasn't out to take over the wizarding world or become immortal or just kill as many people as he could. He wanted to kill Harry."

"I guess," said Harry, "since I'm sitting here in front of you, it sort of removes any suspense. But that was a tough summer."

"What'd you do, then?" asked Ron, "Bunk in with Dumbledore?"

"Ah, no. Would have been nice, though, wouldn't it? I spent the summer traveling from one 'safe house' to another, all the while under the watchful eye of Professor Severus Snape."

"You're joking!" shouted Ron. Harry shook his head. "Was Dumbledore nuts?" Harry gave a twisted grin.

"I think it was the worst summer of my life--and that's saying something, for a guy who spent every other summer of his life with the Durselys. Added to the fact that Voldemort was running amok and my best friend was dead..." He looked up at Ron. "Dumbledore still thought that my most vulnerable point was my mind--he wanted Snape to work with me, constantly, on Occlumency."

"And Snape agreed?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he was too happy about it. He hated me, too, but he followed Dumbledore's orders. He wanted me to have the best possible chance against Voldemort, after all."

"Why's that?" asked Ron. He found it hard to believe that Snape could ever have wanted Harry to have an easy time with anything.

"I was the lesser of the two evils. If I won, then Snape would have to put up with another 'arrogant' Potter. If I lost though...Voldemort would surely come looking for Snape."

"Find the Death-Eater-turned-Member-of-the-Order and kill him, huh?"

"Exactly," said Harry. "So we practiced for hours every day. It was unbelievable--hour after hour of Snape trying to break into my mind and find my worst memories. He must have loved it..." He seemed to consider saying more, but stopped himself. "Anyway, after a while, I actually got better. I was able to shut him out earlier and earlier."

"Is that all you did all day?"

"Just about. I mean, if chatting with Snape was the alternative, then there really wasn't much of a choice, was there? I begged him to let me have other people come to visit, for a chance to get out of the house for a while, but he just kept making me work. I figured there was no way to survive the summer."

"How did you?"

"I almost didn't--and not just because I couldn't tolerate Snape. One day, when I was resting in my room, I heard noises down the hall. I went to see what was going on and found, amazingly, Snape dueling Lucius Malfoy, fresh out of Azkaban, and a few other Dark Wizards. Snape told me to get out of the house, to run, and I ran. I didn't know what was going on."

"AND?" said Ron.

"As luck would have it," said Harry, ignoring the interruption, "as I ran out of that room, I ran into Dumbledore. He was able to chase off the Death Eaters and rescue me, but it was too late for Snape."

"Snape..."

"Died to protect me. That's right. I'm sure my father rolled over in his grave."

Ron couldn't think of anything to say. He had always hated Snape--he wouldn't lie about that. But he died to save Harry, he thought, he couldn't have been all bad...

"Right away, Dumbledore took me back to Hogwarts where he himself took care of me for last few weeks of the summer," said Harry. "He tried to explain the situation to me as well as he could. Snape used to be a Death Eater, you knew that, right?" Ron nodded. "Well, I guess he did some spying for the Order before Voldemort killed my parents...he needed to be a master Occlumens to hide that. That's why Snape was teaching me."

"He was better than Dumbledore?"

"No, Dumbledore still knew he was better than Snape, but by making me learn from Snape, Dumbledore thought he could impress upon me how much he trusted him. Unfortunately, Dumbledore didn't realize that Voldemort was still able to exploit Snape's status as an ex-Death Eater--namely, as Snape got into my mind, so did Voldemort."

"So he knew where you were and what you were up to?"

"Exactly. And from that information, he knew where to send his Death Eaters to attack Snape and me. When he thought I was getting good enough to block Snape entirely, he decided to attack. As it so happened, Dumbledore was keeping an eye on me and my thoughts as well, and figured out what was happening in time to get us."

"So," said Hermione, "when we got back to Hogwarts that fall, the school was on total lockdown. It was like a fortress, in more ways than one. The Order moved its headquarters to one wing of the castle, so it could communicate more easily with the members of the Order at the School."

"Where were my mum and dad during all of this? And my brothers?" Ron asked.

Hermione answered. "Your parents kept working as usual. Your dad went to work every day at the Ministry, of course--he was kind of like Dumbledore's informant there. Your mum went back and forth between the Burrow, where she kept your father company, and Hogwarts, where she drove Ginny crazy." She smiled at this last part. "Your brothers were like frontline fighters. They were really the eyes and ears of the Order."

"Even Fred and George managed to pull off a few successful raids against some unsuspecting Dark wizards," Harry said. "Most of our victories were like that--no one knew about them but the members of the Order. None would turn the tide of the battle, but each one helped."

"That was the way things went, more or less, for the entire year. Not that nothing else happened--but big picture, they didn't matter," said Hermione. "Everything changed, though, one night towards the end of the year."

"What happened?" Ron couldn't believe he had missed all of this.

"Malfoy," said Harry, his voice barely above a whisper. "We always knew Malfoy was a git, but we never really thought he was dangerous."

"If you think about it," said Hermione, "he lived with a Death Eater. His father openly and avidly supported Voldemort. Draco couldn't exactly sit on the fence."

"With Snape out of the castle, Voldemort lost one of his most prized-- though unwitting--sources, so he got Draco to keep informing him. He joined up with Voldemort--we don't know if it was out of fear, or desire for power, or the belief that he was acting for the best," said Harry.

"And he went to school with you?" Ron suddenly pictured all the havoc an apprentice Death Eater could cause at Hogwarts. He could have killed, or hurt, or betrayed...

"He was too afraid to strike against me directly," said Harry, "after all, not even Voldemort would have attacked me right under Dumbledore's nose. But he was all for helping his dad and his master do the dirty work."

"Draco was able to setup a gateway for Voldemort and the Death Eaters into Hogwarts," Hermione said. "Hogwarts was safe only as long as no one was working on the inside, helping to get outsiders in. With Draco as a mole..."

"All hell broke loose," said Harry. "It was total chaos. The students outnumbered the Death Eaters, of course, but what chance to even a dozen first-years have against Bellatrix Lestrange or Lucius Malfoy?"

Silence filled the room as Harry's and Hermione's thoughts drifted to their memories of those days. Ron tried to imagine what it would have been like...McGonagall dueling Lucius Malfoy, or Voldemort torturing his friends...his sister...

"They were damn lucky that I wasn't there that day," Ron said finally. His two friends looked up towards him, and Hermione smiled.

"There were more heroes that day," she said, "than we could tell you about. The Order, of course...they were running around all over the place, trying to keep the students safe. The teachers, too...Hagrid pounded Crabbe and Goyle--the adults, not Draco's goons--and McGonagall wrapped Nott up like a Christmas present with some Binding Charm.

"The real heroes, though," she continued, "were the students. Dean led a group of house-elves against a few Death Eaters holed up in one classroom. He didn't survive...but the house elves managed to imprison the Death Eaters--Macnair, I think, and Avery."

"And the Creevy brothers," said Harry, "remember them? They were leading a group of first years to the Gryffindor common room--one of the only safe spots left in the school. Lestrange and another one ambushed them...the Creevys' sacrifice gave the younger ones a chance to escape."

"So kids died? I mean, they...wait a minute! What about my sister? Was she OK?"

Harry continued, "Your sister was unbelievable. They gave her Order of Merlin, First Class, when the dust settled. She and Neville both...They disabled three Death Eaters, including Malfoy, Sr., rescued the Slythrin first-years from their own common room, which was Voldemort's HQ, and killed Lestrange."

"My sister killed..."

"No," said Harry, "actually, Neville did that. I don't think he even was trying. He thought he would just stun her, but he was so close..." His voice drifted off. Ron knew that Lestrange had tortured Neville's parents into insanity. He wasn't sure if he could picture a vengeful Neville Longbottom, but then again, he wasn't sure if he could picture his sister as Ginny Longbottom, and he had seen the picture to prove that.

Finally, Hermione spoke, breaking the silence. "The real hero of the day, though, was Harry, of course," she said brightly, giving her husband a kiss as she said it. Harry shook his head.

"Because I was Voldemort's target, Dumbledore locked me away in his office for most of the battle. I was stuck there while my friends were fighting and dying. The portraits in his office managed to give me updates on what was going on around the castle, but Dumbledore made me promise to stay put until he came to get me."

"Get you for what?"

"Harry, he doesn't know about the prophecy. Remember? You never told us," said Hermione. Ron could tell this was still a point of disagreement between the two.

"Ah, yeah, that." Harry bit his lower lip. "See, Ron, that prophecy at the Department of Mysteries--you know, from the end of fifth year--was about me."

"Yeah, I know that much. Did you find out what it said?"

"Actually, Dumbledore told me that night. I just didn't particularly feel like sharing it. It was made--by Professor Trelawney, of all people-- just before I was born. It said that the person with the powers to defeat Voldemort would be born at the end of July, and that he'd have powers that the Dark Lord didn't."

"AND?" said Hermione, looking very upset.

"And it had something in there about one of us having to kill the other," added Harry nonchalantly.

Ron couldn't believe what he heard. "So you knew you'd have to kill or be killed..."

"...and didn't tell you," Harry finished. "Yes. I couldn't really see what the point would be of telling you two."

"Except that we were your two best friends," said Hermione crossly. Ron actually sided with her on this one; he couldn't believe Harry didn't share this with them.

"Yeah, but I just thought it would worry you. And it did, didn't it? When I told you?" Hermione nodded. Before Harry could continue, Ron interrupted.

"What powers did you have that he didn't? I mean, what on earth could you do that he couldn't?"

"I asked Dumbledore the same question one day. He told me that love-- the love that had protected me as an infant, the love that brought me to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius, and the love I had for my friends--was a power that Voldemort could not and would never understand."

"A fat lot of good a big hug would do in a duel..."

"That's what I thought too, but...well, let me continue the story" Ron gave him a nod of acceptance, and Harry continued. "So, since Dumbledore knew I'd be a duel with Voldemort at some point, he wanted to make my duel as safe for me as possible."

"You know, adjusted for it being a duel in which it was prophesied that only one person would survive," interrupted Hermione.

"And I guess he thought I would be better off facing Voldemort than Voldemort AND a bunch of Death Eaters," finished Harry, ignoring Hermione's comments.

"Well, did he come for you?"

"No," said Harry. A glint of fury appeared in his eyes as he continued. "One of the portraits gave me a report that I had to respond to. It told me that Voldemort had killed Hermione..."

Ron immediately looked towards Hermione. "Don't worry," she said, "you can see that it wasn't true."

"Then what was the point?" asked Ron.

"You'll see," said Harry, "just let me get to it. Thinking she really was dead, I went right away to find Voldemort. I think he was waiting for me, though, because as soon as I showed up, Voldemort sprang out and hurled a Killing curse my way." He paused dramatically.

"Well, what the hell happened?" exploded Ron. "You can't just leave me hanging like that!"

"Well, it all happened kind of quickly," said Harry. "He hit me, I know that, because my scar hurt so badly I just about passed out. But I didn't die, obviously."

"Why the ruddy hell not?"

"Well," said Harry, "Dumbledore had to explain it to me later. It dealt with the nature of magic. Voldemort's body came from three components: 'bone of the father,' 'flesh of the servant,' and 'blood of the enemy.' At least, that's what went into the spell that raised him. Wormtail gave his hand as 'flesh of the servant,' but he owed his life to me. Remember? We spared him in the Shrieking Shack."

Ron took a deep breath and thought back to the night when the three of them had first met Sirius. "Yeah, that's right," he said. He was tense just from hearing this story. "So what?"

"So Voldemort had an inherent weakness against me. His body was created with the flesh of a person who owed his life to me, so I guess he couldn't kill me, not outright."

"Not that I was untouched," he added quickly, "I was just about dead, or felt like it, but I was better off than most who face the Avada Kedavra. The spell dazed me a bit, but I was less confused than Voldemort was. He couldn't figure out how anyone could survive an Avada Kedavra at all, much less for the second time. So I took advantage of the chance and tried to kill him myself."

Ron's eyes widened. "Did you get him?"

"Ah, see, that's the thing. I shouldn't have," said Harry, matter-of- factly. "I'm not sure if I ever told you this, but my wand and Voldemort's were brothers--shared the same core. Feathers from Fawkes, actually. But that meant that our wands wouldn't ever really work against each other."

"That sucks," said Ron. "Did you have any advantage?"

"Again, I shouldn't have had anything. But Dumbledore planned ahead and gave me an advantage."

"Which was...?"

"The prophecy that I mentioned earlier..."

"Oh, yeah! The love one, or whatever?"

"Right. Dumbledore always told me that my heart--love--would be my advantage. It was. See, he told his pictures to report that she'd been wounded. That way, my anger, my rage, would be driven by love. If he'd waited for Voldemort to find me, I would have acted out of self-defense-- but Voldemort could understand that. If I went out and hunted for him just because I thought I had to, I would have been attacking--again, something Voldemort could understand and defeat. But by luring me with Hermione, Dumbledore made the duel one of the protector--me--versus the aggressor-- him. It was my relationship with Hermione...our friendship...our love...that gave me an edge. The love for the one I was protecting, coupled with the mercy I had shown Wormtail destroyed Voldemort. I didn't even have to actually use a spell--well, not a killing curse--to kill him. It was just the nature of magic."

Ron's gaze fell to the floor as he sat in stunned silence, pondering his friends' story. He slowly looked up and noticed that Hermione's hand gripped Harry's tightly. Harry looked even older now than he did when Ron first entered the room. He gave a heavy sigh and met Ron's gaze.

"I guess that's the end of the real action. I hope that answers some of your questions."

"Some," said Ron, "but that's only the eighteen months after I disappeared. What about after..."

Hermione cut him off. "Ron, I know this must drive you nuts, but Harry needs to take a break." Her eyes met his, and Ron understood she wanted to say more. "We can finish up tomorrow, if you can wait that long."

"I guess so. Are you OK, Harry?" Ron began to worry that what he had taken for tiredness might be something more serious.

"I'm fine, Ron. Just need a good night's sleep, that's all." He lurched out of his chair and wobbled a bit; Hermione had to steady him before he headed out of the room. She turned her attention to Ron.

"I can help you back to your room now, if you'd like. Or are you hungry?" She suddenly seemed very motherly to Ron. He shook his head.

"I'm fine, thanks. I've got a lot to think about." Hermione just nodded understandingly.