Chapter 13
You were everything, everything that I wanted
We were meant to be, supposed to be but we lost it
Now all the memories so close to me just fade away
All this time you were pretending
So much for my happy ending
- Avril Lavine, "Happy Ending"
Harry swam up out of the darkness with a pounding headache and a rolling stomach. For a moment as his bleary eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, he thought he was asleep in his bed on Privet Drive. His heart leapt at the possibility that he might have dreamt it all – the Dursleys' murder, Quinn's terrifying transformation into Bellatrix Lestrange, his capture by one of Voldemort's most vicious Death Eaters…
But when his vision cleared, he realized he was tied up on the dusty floor of what looked to be an attic. His heart sank. It had been real after all, then.
They're dead. The Dursleys are dead. Because of me, all because of me…
No, don't think about that now, a quiet voice inside – the voice he always inexplicably associated with his mother – warned. You can grieve for them later. Now, you have to survive.
Survive? Harry's mouth went dry and his stomach clenched painfully. Unless he was very much mistaken, he probably wouldn't have much time to mourn his aunt, uncle and cousin. Wherever he was, he was completely at the mercy of Bellatrix Lestrange – and she was not a woman known for her mercy.
Please, please, please, let Fawkes have made it to Dumbledore…Let them find me…
Harry didn't know whether he dared hope that Fawkes had taken his message to Dumbledore. Even if the phoenix had succeeded, would the venerable Hogwarts headmaster know how to find Harry? Remembering the popping noise just before he blacked out, he realized Bellatrix must have Apparated with him. That meant they could be anywhere in the world. Not even Dumbledore was omnipotent; Harry hadn't had a chance to leave a single clue behind that might explain who had killed the Dursleys and taken him prisoner. Would the Order of the Phoenix think to look for Bellatrix before it was too late?
"Hoping for a rescue, love?"
Harry shuddered at Bellatrix's voice. She emerged from the shadows halfway across the room, her sunken eyes glowing in the blackness. To his left he could make out one small, circular window; at the far end of the attic, he thought he saw a lighter shape that might have been a doorway, but he couldn't be sure.
Bellatrix crossed to him and tipped a glass of water to his lips. He hesitated for a moment, remembering the drugged cider she'd given him before (how long had he been here, anyway? one day? two days? an hour?). Then he decided he might as well risk it – she could just as easily curse him as drug him now.
The water was cool and sweet. Some of the nausea lessened after he drank most of the glass, though his head still pounded.
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice rough with fear and exhaustion.
"The ruins of what was once a grand mansion."
Bellatrix sat down cross-legged facing him. Looking at her in the half-light, Harry recalled seeing her in Dumbledore's Pensieve during his fourth year. She had been a striking woman then; not beautiful, but commanding, with lush dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes. Even now, after her years in Azkaban, she retained remnants of that beauty.
She's prettier than her sister, Narcissa, he thought in spite of himself, thinking back on Draco Malfoy's mother at the Quidditch World Cup.
"This was my home," Bellatrix went on. She sounded remarkably conversational for the woman who had killed his godfather and all that remained of his family. "The Lestrange mansion. After my father's unfortunate suicide, it fell into disrepair."
Suicide? Harry's wrath got the better of his common sense, and he chided, "Guess he couldn't handle having a bitch like you for a daughter, hmm?"
Half-expecting a blow, he was startled by her laughter. "Quite the contrary, Harry. My father chose to take his own life rather than go to Azkaban for serving the Dark Lord." Her eyes darkened. "That bastard brother-in-law of mine, Lucius, gave my father up to save his own skin. Accused him of placing the Imperius Curse on him. But he'll get his, someday."
Harry shook his head in silent wonder. So much bitterness and hatred between the followers of Voldemort – how did they manage to stand united instead of ripping one another apart?
The cords around his ankles and wrists were hardly comfortable, yet Harry felt himself begin to relax a bit. Bellatrix didn't seem intent on killing him at the moment; one thing he had learned in his encounters with Voldemort was that the longer he could keep his captor talking, the better chance he had of managing an escape.
So he stretched his legs out in front of him and asked, "What am I doing here?"
"Waiting. The Dark Lord should be here soon."
Fantastic!
Harry fought off a wave of panic. "So, what was the point of all this? Why such an elaborate game just to kill me?"
"Harry, Harry, Harry." Bellatrix reverted to the baby-voice he found so annoying, shaking her head at him as if he were a belligerent toddler. "Always has to know everything, doesn't the little boy?"
"Fine. Don't tell me. I guess you just have a thing for guys half your age, then."
That struck home. Her eyes narrowed slightly, Bellatrix rejoined, "The Dark Lord always has a plan, Harry. You're only a danger to him if you continue to fight. If you leave our world and rejoin the Muggles, you're no threat to any of us." She smiled coldly. "Not that you're much of a threat now."
Something Quinn – no, dammit, Bellatrix! – had said echoed in Harry's mind: "We could have lived out our little fantasy together, and I would have been perfectly happy never knowing the truth. And I think you would've been, too."
He swallowed hard. He wished his head would stop throbbing so he could think clearly. "Okay," he said slowly, "you mean, Voldemort wanted you to…what? Seduce me into not going back to Hogwarts?"
Bellatrix shrugged. "Stranger things have happened, Harry. Not everyone who starts Hogwarts finishes – especially not the Mudbloods. They decide it's not the world for them. It makes them too different from everyone they've left behind."
Harry shook his head incredulously. Voldemort, possibly the most powerful wizard ever to live besides Albus Dumbledore, had decided to trick him into leaving Hogwarts?
"I don't believe you. Voldemort supposedly has all these awesome powers – why would he go to this trouble?"
"Oh, it wasn't his idea, originally." Bellatrix smiled her catty smile; shuddering, Harry recognized a tiny bit of Quinn in her. "You see, my master is still weak. He grows in power everyday, but you, you were the reason he fell last time. You were the reason I spent a decade locked up in that awful prison when I should have been ruling at Lord Voldemort's right hand."
Her eyes sparked, and Harry forced himself not to cower, not to show any fear.
Her face relaxed into its smug grin again momentarily. Apparently, whatever she had planned for him, she wasn't in any hurry to get around to it.
"None of the Dark Lord's faithful servants wanted him to risk trying to kill you again so soon. Not after what happened after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and not after that scene at the Ministry of Magic a few months ago. I persuaded my master to let me try to convince you not to return to Hogwarts, to renounce the wizard life and live as a Muggle. Then when he had regained his former power, regained it ten-fold even, he could deal with you at his leisure."
In spite of himself, Harry felt a perverse pride that Voldemort so feared him. "And this was your great plan?" he demanded haughtily. "To make me fall in love with a Muggle girl who didn't even exist and then…what? Marry me and live out the fantasy?"
"You don't think people fall in love at your age and stay in love forever?" For the briefest moment, Bellatrix looked wistful. Then she blinked away whatever memory had come upon her and turned her cruel smirk on him again. "And it wasn't just any Muggle girl, love. No, we couldn't trust any ridiculous sixteen-year-old girl to carry out this plan. So Lord Voldemort worked the Metamorphico Charm on me, and things were going swimmingly until that little Mudblood showed up."
"But how did you even know it would work? How could you be sure I'd even be interested in Qui- in you?"
Bellatrix batted her eyes at him. Harry's skin crawled. He had kissed this disgusting creature – let her touch him – wanted to do much, much more than that with her…
Stop it! Stay focused. You didn't know, you couldn't have known, she had everybody fooled…Somehow, though, he couldn't quite convince himself that he was justified in his ignorance. Quinn had been just a little too perfect. As Bellatrix went on, Harry's face flamed with the realization of how naïve he had been.
"Oh, I took great pains to be sure you'd be 'interested.' Red hair and green eyes, just like that Mudblood mother you idolize so much. A deep, personal loss that would remind you of your own dead parents and that worthless traitor Sirius Black – "
"Don't talk about Sirius!" A sudden fury rose up in Harry. He lunged forward, knocking himself off-balance and nearly toppling over. Bellatrix's cool smile infuriated him beyond words. "All those weeks, you-you sat there and let me talk about Sirius, tell you things I hadn't told anyone else, and you-you –"
"And I killed him, yes." She responded coolly, as if his anger were completely irrational. "But you were desperate for someone to share him with, weren't you, Harry? Desperate for someone who didn't look at you with pity in her eyes every time you mentioned his name. Someone who understood loss. And I understand loss, Harry. I understand better than you'll ever know."
Harry blinked furiously against threatening tears. He had trusted Quinn with his dearest memories of Sirius, with the darkest elements of his grief. Now he couldn't help feeling that he had betrayed his godfather by confiding in his killer, however unknowingly he had done it.
Bellatrix went on smoothly, "I watched you closely that night in the Department of Mysteries. I saw how protective you were of your little friends – and I saw the way that little girl looked at you. I suspected you were in love with her, too, so I patterned my disguise after her. Took up her little habits – " she serenely tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, mocking him with her eyes as he recalled both Quinn and Hermione doing just that " – read a lot of books, made myself adventurous but academic. And you fell for it, love. You fell for it hook, line and sinker."
He hoped the darkness of the attic concealed his blood-red blush. "I guess Hermione showing up threw a wrench in your little plan, huh?" He wished his voice didn't sound so brittle, so hurt. He wanted to be as unflappable as Bellatrix was.
"Hmm. That it did. So I guess you can thank your girlfriend for your aunt and uncle dying – once my plan stopped working, Lord Voldemort instructed me to do what the other Death Eaters thought should have been the plan from the beginning: Kill the last remaining members of your mother's family, rendering Dumbledore's little charm useless."
Terrible images of the Dursleys dead in their home – Uncle Vernon, sprawled in the kitchen doorway, Aunt Petunia curled over Dudley in a last hopeless act of protection – doubled the pain in Harry's head. He closed his eyes to let it all sink in: Bellatrix had pretended to be a Muggle girl to seduce him into leaving Hogwarts; when he turned away from her and back to Hermione, she'd waited for her opportunity to murder the Dursleys, breaking the protective charm Petunia had sealed by taking him in as a baby.
Of course Voldemort, or any of his Death Eaters, couldn't simply show up on Privet Drive to kill them. The Order watched Harry too closely in the summers. It had to be someone they would never suspect – someone who seemed perfectly harmless, like a lonely Muggle girl with a crush, a girl Harry had let into their lives…
And the Metamorphico Charm could only be detected by a wizard of equal strength to the one who cast it, Harry recalled from what he'd read in Hermione's book. Lupin must not have mentioned Quinn to anyone after that first night – he wanted to protect my privacy, he's like that…And Hermione wouldn't have told anyone…And I wouldn't tell Ron, or anyone else…So there was no way for Dumbledore to know, to suspect that something might be wrong, and he was the only one who could have seen through the charm…
"And Hedwig?" he forced himself to ask. The owl mystery was, as far as he could tell, the last remaining piece of the puzzle. "How did you intercept Hedwig?"
"I didn't." Bellatrix stood and walked over to the little window. With a sinking feeling, Harry realized she was watching someone arrive. "I sweet-talked your ignorant cousin into walking me home that day you saw me outside the ice cream shop. And when we were alone I put the Imperius Curse on him. I had him feed your owl a poisoned treat so she wouldn't be able to deliver any messages for you. And the school owl, well, that was simply a matter of dear little Ickle Duddey-kins – " Harry flinched at the pet name his aunt had used for Dudley " – luring him in his window as he flew away from yours and rewriting your letter to that stupid oaf Hagrid."
How perfect, Harry thought sourly. She didn't leave anything up to chance. Except –
"Fawkes," he whispered, his heart leaping with hope again.
Bellatrix turned from the window. "Ah. Yes. Dumbledore's phoenix. There's no fooling one of those birds – they might as well be humans. But I made my move in time, didn't I, Harry? Your message didn't save your family."
She took a few steps toward him and dropped her voice to a whisper. "And it isn't going to save you, either."
Behind her, the attic door swung slowly open. Harry's heart rate tripled; he could sense Voldemort's presence, could feel the cold cruelty in his very blood, as if someone had dumped ice water into his veins. But he refused to tremble. He sat up as straight as he could with the cord around his wrists tied to the cord around his ankles and faced Voldemort with a defiant glare.
"Master." Bellatrix bowed low, her voice the cloying, whining affectation Harry had come to hate about her. "We have succeeded. His mother's sister and nephew are dead. Dumbledore's protection is broken."
"You have done well." Voldemort, tall and regal in jet-black robes, laid his abnormally long fingers on Bellatrix's shoulder. His snake-like eyes were fastened on Harry; he looked frighteningly like a predator about to strike its prey.
"So, Harry Potter, you have chosen death after all."
Although his insides felt like jelly, Harry forced a hard edge into his voice. He would not let Voldemort see him frightened. "Fuck you."
Voldemort laughed. The sound made every cell in Harry's body quiver. "Defiant to the last, I see. I must admit, I was hoping you would fall for Bellatrix's little ruse. It would have made things…simpler."
"You're mad if you think I'd ever leave Hogwarts," Harry lied. He knew he wouldn't now, but yes, when he'd first met Quinn, he'd fantasized about what a nice, normal Muggle life might be like. "I know my destiny. It's to fight you."
"Destiny." Voldemort turned the word over in his mouth as if he'd never heard it before. Stepping closer, he loosened Harry's bonds with one graceful motion and drew him almost gently to his feet. Harry shuddered at the coldness of Voldemort's papery skin against his; the man felt like nothing so much as a well-preserved corpse.
Together, they walked to the small window and looked out across the ruins of a once-beautiful garden. Even with his hands and feet free, Harry knew running away would be pointless – Voldemort and Bellatrix both had wands. He wouldn't have gotten two steps before they jinxed him.
So he stood rigid, repulsed by the man at his side, as Voldemort went on in his eerily smooth voice, "Destiny, Harry, is a slippery concept. I learned that the night I tried to kill you, to avert the prophecy I had heard of, that you would be the one to stop me. I wonder now what would have happened if I had ignored it, if I had continued to gather supporters, to swell the ranks of my Death Eaters. We were so close to complete and total victory then, Harry, so close I could taste it. The power was…intoxicating. And I thought, just a baby, just a tiny infant, how could he possibly harm me? I thought to kill you then, to buy myself peace of mind forever.
"But now, Harry, now I wonder." Voldemort laid his spidery fingers on Harry's cheek. It took everything Harry had not to scream at the bolt of pain that flashed through his scar. "Did I make the prophecy true that night? If I had ignored it, if I had gone on my way and taken the victory that was almost mine, would you have the power you have now? I think not, Harry. I think the power you have came from me that night. By trying to avert the prophecy, I made it true."
Forcing his voice to remain calm and steady, Harry retorted, "So what're you saying? That if I left this life, if I stopped being a wizard, the prophecy would cease to exist?"
"I believe so, yes." Voldemort's eyes bored into his; in spite of himself, Harry looked away, unable to withstand the scrutiny. "I know what I've taken from you. Parents who adored you. A godfather who worshipped you. The only family you've ever known. A friend who could have done great things with his life."
Tears pricked Harry's eyes. Kill me and get it over with, he thought desperately, staring at the weeds encroaching on the Lestrange mansion. In the moonlight, shapes seemed to move below, but he knew it was only his eyes playing tricks on him. No help was coming.
So send me on to them. Let me be with my parents, with Sirius – I've failed, I'm not strong enough, but Dumbledore can still fight him…
"You could still walk away, Harry."
Voldemort's half-whispered offer froze Harry in place. "You could quash all that rage you have toward me, stifle your desire for revenge, and walk away. I would let you go."
Something cold opened up inside Harry, something he couldn't even describe. His stomach felt hollow. It was like he'd felt when Sirius fell through the curtain, only worse – much, much worse, like he wasn't human anymore.
He heard himself say distantly, "You know I can't."
"Why?"
Because it's wrong. Because of all the people that would die by your hand, by the hands of your Death Eaters. Because whatever happens, this is who I am, this is what I'm supposed to do…
But he didn't say any of that. He didn't answer at all. Voldemort was evil, through and through; whatever humanity had once resided in the boy Tom Riddle was gone, consumed by the darkness of rage, hate and revenge inside of the self-proclaimed Dark Lord. There was no reasoning with a madman, no parley with a demon. If Voldemort wanted him dead, he could kill him. Harry would make no deals with the man who had murdered so many people he loved.
After a long, charged silence, Voldemort folded his long fingers in front of him and fixed Harry with an imperious glare. Harry looked back, unflinching.
"I will only offer this once," Voldemort declared. Though he spoke softly, his voice rang in the empty attic, as if the air itself stood silent and at attention to hear the Dark Lord. "If you leave now, and never practice magic again, I will spare those you love. But if you refuse me now, I swear to you that I will take from you everyone you hold dear, one by one. You will watch the pain and the loss tear them apart even as its tears you apart. And in the end, Harry, the outcome will be the same: I will reign, with my faithful servants, and you and all who oppose me will be dead."
For one moment, Harry hesitated. His resolve threatened to waver. He had already lost so much – no, that wasn't the way to put it, he had already caused so much loss. Hadn't he wondered time and again how many lives needed to be sacrificed to protect his? Now Voldemort himself was offering a truce, a guarantee for the safety of those Harry cared about more than anything else in the world. Even more than his own life.
Think, Harry, the quiet voice inside his heart spoke up solemnly. Voldemort can't be trusted. And even if he could be, even if you left here now and vowed never to practice magic again, do you think Dumbledore and the others would stand aside while Voldemort rose to power again? No. They'll all fight him. And because they fight him, he will kill them, whether you stand against him or not.
At least with you, they have a chance for victory. Don't take hope away from them, Harry…
So this was it. The moment of hesitation passed; for better or worse, Harry was in this fight for good.
"No," he answered quietly, surprised by the strength of his own voice. "I won't walk away. I won't join with you and I won't stand back while you kill innocent people."
Bellatrix snorted. Harry started; he'd forgotten she was there. "Master," she cooed, sidling up to Voldemort from behind, "let me kill him for you now. He's just like his father – stubborn to his last breath. The charm is broken. Give me this honor, Master, I beg you – "
"No." Voldemort's ghostly smile made his hideous snake-like features all the more terrifying. "I have studied the old magic Dumbledore used to protect the boy. He returned to his mother's kin this summer. That means until his next birthday, the charm is sealed. But then," Voldemort raised his wand ever so slightly, and Harry fought the urge to flinch away, "then there will be no charm to protect you, boy. And we will see who wins the day."
A flood of relief washed over Harry as Voldemort turned away. So this was it? They weren't going to kill him tonight?
I shouldn't feel so happy, not when the Dursleys are dead…
But I want to live, dammit, I'm only sixteen and I want a chance to live!
Bellatrix was scurrying after Voldemort as he crossed the attic. "And what of him now, Master? Do you just want him returned to Dumbledore unharmed?"
"Returned, yes. Unharmed…I leave that up to you, Bellatrix." Voldemort paused at the attic door. Harry felt the familiar fear surging up from his toes again, paralyzing him. "But remember, for now he remains under the protection of a very old, very powerful magic. Be careful how far you try to go."
With that, Voldemort was gone.
Harry stood against the window, feeling a tingle of rage replace the worst of the fear. His eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness and he watched, his muscles wound tight like a cat about to spring, as Bellatrix sauntered toward him, wand raised.
"You'd like to kill me, wouldn't you, Harry?"
His hands clenched into fists at his sides. If I only had my wand…
No use worrying about the "if onlys", his inner voice piped up. Concentrate on the "what is." You can still hurt her – you can still fight.
He moved along the wall and then out into the center of the room. They circled one another like tigers. "You're no match for me, boy," Bellatrix sneered. "I would have killed you at the Ministry of Magic if your godfather hadn't shown up. I could have had you in my bed this summer. And without your wand, love, I'm afraid you're helpless."
Harry stopped circling and faced her calmly. "Try me," he offered coldly.
The fear dropped from him entirely when she cried, "Crucio!" He leapt to the side; a bolt of blue light shot past him, blasting a hole in the wall behind him. He was scrambling forward on his hands and knees before Bellatrix could even turn.
"Crucio!" she cried again, but once more, Harry was too quick. He rolled on his side to evade the curse. In one fluid motion, he pulled himself into a crouch and sprang at her knees.
That's right, Harry! Fight, fight with everything you have, fight this bitch who killed Sirius and left Neville with parents who don't even recognize him –
Bellatrix fought more fiercely than he would have expected as he wrestled her to the floor. His fist connected solidly with her jaw, and she gasped. Harry crawled on top of her and pinned her to the ground with his knees. One hand closed around her throat – he squeezed, she squealed, and the fingers holding her wand went limp.
He seized it and stood up, aiming the slender wooden reed down where Bellatrix lay on the floor. She propped herself up on her elbows and faced him haughtily, refusing to show the fear he knew she must be feeling.
"You've tried this before, don't you remember, Harry? That night your godfather died?" She stood up, brushing dust off her clothes. "You don't have it in you to work one of the Forbidden Curses, love. You have to really mean it."
White-hot rage flashed through Harry, but it was a controlled fury now, an anger he could focus and draw strength from. "I mean it," he answered firmly, and raised his wand.
"Ah, you mean it for Bellatrix Lestrange. But…What about for Quinn?"
Harry gasped as Bellatrix transformed into Quinn before his very eyes.
"No!" The wand trembled in his hand. "You can't – Voldemort worked the spell – "
"Hmm. But I've been practicing, Harry."
The voice that spoke to him was not Bellatrix's hateful, chiding lilt; it was Quinn's sweet, melodious voice. She looked so pretty and so terribly vulnerable as she looked from his face to the hand clutching Bellatrix's wand.
"You cared about me, Harry. And I cared about you, I know you felt that. You shared Sirius with me. I shared all the pain of losing my father. We could have been happy, Harry, that was what I wanted…"
It's not real. It's a spell. That's not Quinn, it's not some innocent Muggle girl you had a crush on, it's Bellatrix Lestrange, the murdering bitch who took Sirius from you. Do it, Harry, stop her, kill her, do it!
But he couldn't. Bellatrix he could hate; Quinn he couldn't. Right or wrong, the distinction existed for him.
"I knew it." Quinn smiled at him, her emerald eyes sparkling. For the first time, Harry realized how much she really did look like his mother. She took a tiny step toward him. "I knew you couldn't curse me, Harry, I knew you couldn't look at me and curse me and mean it enough to hurt me – "
"Crucio!"
Blue light exploded behind Quinn. Harry shouted with her as her small form crumpled; the power of the curse knocked her to the floor, and only then did he see the moonlight glint on the metal shard clasped in her hand.
She writhed for a few moments more before his rescuer lifted her wand. Harry gaped in disbelief as Hermione stepped into a pool of moonlight, wand still pointed at the panting girl on the floor.
Stepping over Quinn, she muttered, "Think I meant it enough, bitch?"
"Hermione?" Harry rubbed at his eyes to be sure he wasn't dreaming. On the floor, Quinn had turned back into Bellatrix, who cowered from the menace in Hermione's eyes. "But how – "
"Dumbledore," she answered simply.
As if on cue, Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody burst into the attic. "Hermione," Lupin cried, "are you both all right? Harry?"
"He's fine," Hermione answered for them both. She lowered her wand now that Tonks and Mad-Eye towered over the grimacing Bellatrix. She slipped her fingers through Harry's; he hadn't realized until he felt the warmth of her hand just how cold he was. He started to shiver. "Let's get him out of here, okay?"
Harry clutched her hand, feeling suddenly faint. His headache had returned with a vengeance. "Voldemort," he warned them. "Voldemort was here, just a few minutes ago."
"He must have sensed us coming and gone. He's in no hurry to face Dumbledore again, especially without his precious Death Eaters around," Lupin said. Harry couldn't tell whether Lupin was disappointed or relieved that Voldemort had fled. "Hermione's right, Harry, we need to get you out of here. Dumbledore is downstairs, he'll want to see you, and Hagrid and the Weasleys, of course – "
Harry nodded, although he felt slightly woozy at the idea of facing all of those concerned people right now. "I'm so tired," he confessed, leaning heavily against Hermione.
She slipped her arms around him and he suddenly realized she was crying silently. "Don't cry," Harry murmured against her hair. Without thinking, he kissed the tears off her cheeks. Lupin started and Hermione laughed at the dumbfounded expression on his face. Despite the horror of the evening and the long, painful explanations he knew were to come, Harry sensed warmth returning to his body at the sound of her laughter.
I'm with Hermione again. We can face this, we can face anything…I don't care if it's maudlin, I love her so much…
That love flooded him like one of Madam Pomfrey's healing potions. He stood up a little straighter and took a few wobbly steps forward, ignoring Bellatrix, who was being ushered out ahead of them by none-too-gentle hands. The Order would deal with her however they saw fit. Harry only hoped he never had to see her again.
Lupin shook his head. Taking hold of Harry under one arm to support him on his abruptly unsteady feet, he muttered too low for the others to hear, "Looks like you've had a busy summer, Harry."
"You have no idea," Harry replied wearily, and allowed them to help him down to where the others waited.
Author's Note: I have one (possibly two, but probably one) more chapter coming to wrap all this up! I hope you've liked it. I hope it made sense. I hope, most of all, I've been true to the characters! Please review and let me know what you think.