A/N: My god, almost 200 reviews for Chapter 43! Mum and I are completely blown away! You are the best readers in the whole world! Thank you so very very much!

Chapter Forty-Four: Homecomings

SIRIUS BLACK IS INNOCENT! PROSECUTION DROPS CHARGES!
Photographic Evidence Proves Peter Pettigrew Alive, Framed Black for Potters' Murder!

"So are you going to go live with him now?" Neville asked Harry in the Great Hall during lunch the next day.

"That's the plan," said Harry, helping himself to a sandwich. "Pass me the crisps."

"Has Sirius got the paperwork?" Hermione asked, holding the Daily Prophet in one hand and an apple in the other. "Want one of these?"

"Yeah," Harry grabbed an apple out of the bowl and munched on it. "Remus and Mr. Weasley got it from the Ministry for him yesterday. It should be official by next week."

Ginny grinned at him. "That's great. Really great. He'll finally be your legal guardian."

"Been a long time coming," agreed Ron. "Where're you two going to live?"

"Headquarters, of course," Harry said, lowering his voice.

"I meant after that," said Ron.

"After what?"

"After the war!" Ron exclaimed, clouting him.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of food and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. "After the war..."

"It's not going to go on forever," Ginny said. "And you know Sirius hates that place. When the war's over, you don't have to stay there. We'll be going back to the Burrow, after all."

Hermione nodded. "You said something about living in the country once, where you could see the sky."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. We'd both like that. I guess it just seems a long way away."

"Not that long," Ginny told him, patting his arm. "Not that long."

Ron nodded across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table. "Looks like trouble in the snake den."

Harry surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder. There were noticeable gaps in the ranks of the elder Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were gone, as were Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. Draco Malfoy was by himself in his usual spot at the table, but the rest of the Slytherins were alternately ignoring him and staring at him as though trying to see into his head. From the Head Table, Snape was watching them all very closely.

"None of them know what to make of all this," said Hermione. "Malfoy's the last person anybody expected to see leave Voldemort."

"Weird," Ron mused. "I'm not sure I know what to make of it. You sure it was...you know...honest?"

"Seemed pretty honest to me," said Harry. He leaned forward and said more quietly, "Ginny and I saw him come back, the night after the battle at the Fortress. He looked completely wrecked."

Hermione shook her head. "Malfoy always was a bit of a spoiled brat. I'd wager he got in, saw what really goes on with his dad's mates, and..." she pulled a face. "A reality check of sorts."

"Like Sirius's brother," said Ginny. She shrugged and stole a chunk of Cauldron Cake that Harry was eating. "I still don't like Malfoy, but that doesn't mean I want him dead. Hope Snape can keep him safe."

Harry lost interest in his food and sat back on the bench. "He hexed Voldemort, you know. At Frimby Park, after he found out the prophecy. Probably saved my life."

"Blimey," Ron muttered. "The prat's really lucky to be alive."

"Aren't we all," sighed Hermione.

Several days later, Professor Lupin held Harry back after the end of DADA. "I just wanted to share a bit of news with you," he said with a knowing smile.

"Sirius?" Harry asked eagerly.

Remus produced an official-looking scroll and handed it to Harry. "The Ministry has confirmed a Mr. Sirius Orion Black in the guardianship of one Harry James Potter, in accordance with the wills of Lily and James Potter, until young Mr. Potter reaches the age of majority."

With a giddy feeling inside, Harry unrolled the document and stared at the Ministry seal and the elegant, scripted words. He looked up at Remus. "Wow. It's...hard to believe it's all real."

Remus laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders. "It's real, signed, and sealed. No one but the two of you can ever change it."

Carefully rolling it up again, Harry asked, "Remus, what does this mean for...you? You know, during the trial..."

"Sirius made out his own will yesterday as soon as he got his copy of this," Remus said, indicating the document. "If anything should ever happen to him, I would be your guardian." He pulled a face. "Took a bit of legal maneuvering, given my status, but Mr. McGonagall helped us work it out. Have no fear, I'm not going anywhere."

Harry grinned. "Good."

"Oh, and one other bit of news," Remus added. "Headmistress McGonagall and the rest of the teachers discussed the current circumstances, and we decided that at least some of the danger surrounding your potential possession has passed. And thus, there is no reason to bar you from the Quidditch team for the final game of the season."

Harry's mouth fell open. "You...you mean..."

"I suggest you have a word with your team captain," Remus said sagely. "After all, you'd better be in top form when your godfather comes to watch the game!"

The thought had Harry's mind racing with a delirious excitement that felt completely alien after so many months—no, years—of black hopelessness. Was it only a week ago that there had seemed nothing to look forward to in the future at all?

"Thanks, Remus," he said breathlessly.

The werewolf grinned at him. "Be off with you. And kindly remember to study for your exams amid all this merry-making, if you please."

With a burst of helpless, delighted laughter, Harry actually ran out the classroom door, his bag slung over his shoulder.

As predicted, Ron and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team went absolutely mad when they learned Harry had been released from his ban, and joyously reinstated him as Seeker. They dragged him into practice almost every day, over the protests of Hermione, who insisted that Harry had missed so much class from his assorted injuries that he ought to be studying to make up for it.

"We may not have N.E.W.T.s yet, but sixth year exams are important too," she'd insisted.

Harry did study, though, because in a bizarre and not at all unwelcome way, he found a new, unexpected motivation: his new family. In the free, unrestrained, often-long and always-awaited letters that he and Sirius exchanged (sometimes several times a day) it had been made quite clear that Remus was to be just as much a part of Harry's life as Sirius was. His other parent, after a fashion, and this one here at school with him, available to talk to him any time, any time at all.

And Remus wanted Harry to do well in school, and worked with Harry on the school-related responsibilities. Not that Sirius wasn't interested in those things, but there seemed to be an unspoken accord between the two Marauders at last where Harry was concerned, giving Remus the lead in certain matters like school and running the D.A. and dealing with the Order. Sirius had plenty of counsel and support to give as well, and always paid full attention to anything Harry wanted to talk to him about, but Harry found it easiest to talk to him about the more...small-scale things. Things about Harry himself.

It was a weird, unaccustomed, and altogether wonderful experience. One that Harry had never had before, or even really imagined having: working from a desire to make someone proud. Someone like parents.

There were Death Eater attacks and fights at school and all sorts of chaotic uproars at the Ministry, as usual, but it didn't weigh on Harry and his friends as usual. There was even a spontaneous celebration when Cornelius Fudge lost his office in an overwhelming vote of no confidence. Madam Bones was appointed to the position of Minister in his place, and her Hufflepuff niece Susan held her head noticeably higher in the hallways after that. But Harry didn't mind; Susan was a nice girl, a member of the D.A., and if there were any doubts about the club's legitimacy remaining, they were gone now.

On the day of the Quidditch Cup match, (Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, surprisingly enough) the school positively sang with high spirits. This was the first time Hufflepuff had even made it to the final match in years, and although the general consensus was that Gryffindor, with Harry back, would have an easy win, the Hufflepuffs were happy enough to be playing today that their exuberance infected the entire school.

Madam Bones was coming to watch (Susan was a Chaser on the team), as were the Weasleys and Sirius. No one could sit still during breakfast; there was much good-natured yelling and ribbing between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, and Ron insisted that everyone on the team eat something. Hermione was arranging some team pictures courtesy of Colin Creevy, and Neville was trying to persuade some of the Ravenclaws to support the Gryffindors.

Just as breakfast was ending, Professor McGonagall came down to the table and asked Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione to join her in the Headmistress's office. At Ron's panicked expression, she said, "Fear not, Mr. Weasley, you will be at the pitch in plenty of time."

That settled the team, and Ron left Katie Bell in charge as they headed to Professor McGonagall's office.

Nearly-Headless Nick waved cheerfully at them as they passed him in the hall. "Good luck today, my friends! I'm off to rally up a suitable ghost cheering section for you. Oh, and congratulations, my dear Weasleys!"

Ron and Ginny exchanged confused glances and would have asked what Nick meant, but he'd gone. Professor McGonagall shook her head as they came up into the Headmistress's office and said, "I would have questioned the wisdom of the timing of this announcement, but it did not seem right to wait until after the game. So I should warn you that this will be a bit of a shock."

They came into the office to find the rest of the Weasleys already present and in various states of emotion, which alarmed Harry, more so the sight of Remus and Sirius also there. "Sirius! What's going on?"

"Mum," Ginny said anxiously, seeing Mrs. Weasley's tearful face, "what's the matter..."

Mrs. Weasley was sobbing, but she was smiling. "Oh...Ginny, oh..."

The twins looked serious, which was more worrisome to Harry than anything, and they gestured for their siblings and Harry and Hermione to turn around. Harry did so, and...

Ginny let out a squeak of shock, and Ron gasped aloud.

"Percy?"

Standing, or rather hovering a few inches off the floor, was a ghost. His form was translucent white, like all ghosts', but Harry could make out every detail of him, from the plain wizard's robes to the faint freckles on his ghostly skin, and the horned-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose above a nervous smile.

"Hi," Percy's ghost said, watching his brother and sister carefully.

Neither Harry nor Hermione spoke, but Ron and Ginny seemed lost for words. "You...you...you're..." Ron choked.

"You didn't go on," Ginny finally breathed. "You stayed."

Percy shrugged. "As you see."

"But..." Ron began hesitantly. "You should have...you should've gone on, Perce, I mean...to...whatever comes next..."

Mrs. Weasley had stopped crying and was now cringing, but Percy grinned sheepishly, "I know, that's what Mum said. But I'll say it again: it's too late now. And you don't mean it either."

"What?" Ginny looked offended.

"I mean, don't pretend you're not glad to see me here," Percy told her. He half-walked, half-glided closer to his mother. "And don't tell me what I should have done when you know you're glad I didn't." Mrs. Weasley choked back a sob again, and Percy said firmly, "I spent a lot of my time alive being a prat and didn't get nearly enough time to make up for it. So here I am."

"But...but...when we've all gone..." Ginny protested. "What'll you do then?"

Percy shrugged. "Dunno. Teach History of Magic, maybe. But I'll worry about that in a hundred years or so. Right now, we've got lost time to make up for."

George came slowly to his mother's side, regarding his brother's ghost with unnaturally serious eyes. "You still shouldn't've done it, git. However big a prat you were, you didn't deserve to spend eternity like this. Still," he added when Percy started to protest. "Glad you're back."

With that he grinned, Fred as well, and Percy let out a sigh of relief, and Harry felt the room get a little warmer. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears again, but they were happy tears, and the rest of the Weasleys crowded around Percy to welcome him back. "Does this mean you're going to watch the game?" Ron asked eagerly.

"In the ghosts' cheering section, of course!" Percy replied.

Harry edged over to Remus and Sirius then, and murmured, "I asked Nick how you get to be a ghost after the Department of Mysteries."

"That's quite a sacrifice Percy's made," Remus said softly, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Is it that bad?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Like a lot of choices, it depends on what you make of it. Obviously Percy thought it was worth it." He ruffled Harry's hair as the Weasleys' reunion broke up.

"We've got to get ready for the game," Ginny was saying.

"And we need good seats," said Bill. "Come on, Mum."

"Will we see you afterward, Percy?" Mrs. Weasley begged.

"Of course! Go on. I've got to find Nick."

Professor McGonagall escorted the Weasleys out of the office, telling them how she intended to have Percy installed as one of Hogwarts's official ghosts. "We can always use more competent haunts in this castle."

"I think that's our cue to run along as well, Sirius," Remus said. "We'll see you after the game, Harry."

Harry spontaneously threw his arms around Sirius before going, even though it wasn't as if there were many real limits on seeing his godfather now. Sirius seemed to understand, fortunately, and chuckled as he returned the embrace. "I did promise I'd make it to a game one day, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed, pulling back. "I just wasn't sure it would really happen."

"Well, it has," said Ginny, tugging Harry's arm. "Come ON, before Ron starts yelling."

Grinning, Harry ran after her to the staircase, waving over his shoulder at Sirius and Remus as Ron went ahead of them, bellowing demands for ghost support at Percy down the hall.

Gryffindor won, of course. But the Hufflepuffs, by the reckoning of all present, put in an excellent effort, and so there were no hard feelings after the game. Quite the contrary; it was universally agreed that every opportunity for fun should be seized during such times, and the Hufflepuffs were happy enough to put aside any disappointment about their score for the sake of post-game revelry. Hufflepuffs were always generous that way, Harry supposed gratefully.

Harry stole glances at the family spectators' stands whenever he could, to see Sirius sitting with the Weasleys and Remus, all of them cheering wildly throughout the game. Percy hovered in the shaded ghosts' stands with Nearly-Headless Nick and a handful of other ghosts, and all the students seemed to have a marvelous time.

Once the initial shock had worn off, none of the Weasleys could deny how elated they were to have Percy back among them, ghost or not, and there was much gossip amongst the students over what role Hogwarts's newest haunt would take. (There was much hopeful speculation that Percy might indeed take over the job of teaching History of Magic from Professor Binns, which everyone agreed would undoubtedly liven that class up quite a bit.)

But for the moment, Percy was content to be spook-in-training as it were, around Hogwarts, and spent dinner talking with Ron and Ginny once the elder Weasleys and Sirius had left. Harry hadn't seen the two youngest Weasley siblings so happy in a long time. Hermione peppered Percy with questions for advice about sixth-year exams, which he was happy enough to grant.

As end of the year exams drew closer, there was lots of work to do, and tensions from the war did creep back into everyday life, but Harry was not the only one who felt a sense of renewed strength as warm weather took full hold over the grounds again.

Professor Snape and other Order members were beginning to agree on the suspicion that while Harry's skill at Occlumency had improved a great deal this year, the connection to Voldemort by virtue of his scar would never be completely blocked. But Snape still made him practice, which Harry supposed was to be expected.

Final applications for Magical Law Enforcement careers were being prepared. With the help of Remus, Sirius long-distance, and Percy, Harry revised his essays and papers and got ready to turn them in, though it still caused him no small measure of anxiety to wonder what Professor Smythe-Wellington's official recommendation would be.

The night before the final evaluations in Specialized Defense, Harry was in the library with Ron and Hermione, all of them organizing their paperwork. "Do you think there'll be this much filing and organizing in the Auror program?" Ron mused, pulling a face as he sealed up an envelope.

"Probably," Hermione said. "Official jobs like that always have a lot of paperwork. I don't mind it much. I'd be more worried about the fighting."

They were crowded into one of the smaller tables in the library, leaving the larger ones for frantic fifth and seventh-years studying for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Harry sealed up the last of his paperwork and stacked it with a neatness that even Hermione couldn't fault. Then he stared off into space until Ron said, "Harry? What's on your mind, mate?"

"Mm? Nothing, really," Harry said. "I'll just be glad when this year is over. Maybe we'll get a real holiday before the war decides to worm its way in again."

Hermione grimaced. "That would be nice. Lord," she shoved her envelopes away and leaned back in her chair. "I'm starting to..."

"What?" asked Ron.

Closing her eyes, Hermione sighed. "I don't know. I'm just starting to wonder if I'd really like being an Auror." At Harry and Ron's surprised silence, she opened her eyes a crack and explained, "The paperwork and testing doesn't bother me, of course, but...it's the other things. Fighting."

"But that'd be the exciting part," Ron protested, but Hermione shook her head.

"Really, Ronald, maybe to you. I don't know—lots of people can do jobs like that fine, and not to say I won't keep fighting as long as the war goes on, but...after that...when it's over, I..." she suddenly looked very tired, startling both Harry and Ron. "I don't know if I'd want to ever fight anything again. Maybe when the war's over, I could do something else. I hate those battles,"she said, closing her eyes again. "I fight when they happen because I have to—and I'd never leave you two—but I hate them. They're like nightmares. I go to the bathroom when it's all over and get sick. When we heard what had happened at Frimby Park, and saw them carrying those Aurors out, dead and dying, I just...I don't know. I don't know anymore." She smiled at them in a weak attempt to be reassuring. "I guess I ought to ask Professor Smythe-Wellington about that."

"Yeah," Harry finally said. "Maybe that's not a bad idea."

The next morning was Harry's evaluation. He handed in all his application materials, which Smythe-Wellington stacked on her office desk without so much as glancing at them. She motioned for him to sit down opposite her desk and pulled a single piece of parchment from an envelope.

"Here is my evaluation which will be submitted to Magical Law Enforcement regarding your applications, Mr. Potter." Harry took it slowly, and she added, "I would suggest that you read it and take this opportunity to ask any questions that arise."

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked down at the paper.

Evaluation of Student Performance and Potential: Magical Law Enforcement

Harry James Potter

Mr. Potter possesses considerable magical and intellectual ability. He has demonstrated a consistent and exceptional speed at learning and adaptation of knowledge. He has shown an ability to improve performance and adjust to alteration of circumstances.

It is my opinion that Mr. Potter will have little difficulty qualifying for the Auror program in the areas of magical skill and physical ability. He possesses excellent control and use of magical power, strong reflexes, and adaptive ability.

Mr. Potter's work ethic and response to pressure is also exceptional. He has demonstrated strong leader qualities in and out of class, as well as the ability to follow instruction and order. Although he requires considerable training in the latter, I expect him to qualify as an applicant to the Auror program.

In conclusion, I submit this student's name with a high recommendation for admission to the Auror qualification programs. Mr. Potter possesses all the abilities and qualities necessary and desirable in a student at this stage of magical education for a future career in Magical Law Enforcement.

When Harry reached the end of the parchment, all he could do was stare at it. He had to read through it twice before the words fully registered.

High recommendation...

At last, he looked up in astonishment.

"But I thought you hated me!"

Smythe-Wellington's lips twitched. "I have spent this year attempting to force you to grow into your potential, young man. That requires taking on the role that will one day be assumed by your trainers in the Auror Program—and I assure you, they will be no more inclined than I to coddle anyone when criticism is due. And until you are a senior among Aurors—in approximately fifteen years, if not longer—criticism will always be due."

Harry knew his mouth was hanging open stupidly, but he was having a difficult time making his mind come to terms with what she had said and all that had happened this year. "So...this year...you thought I could be an Auror?"

"I daresay the majority of students in that class can be Aurors, Potter. Provided they possess the work ethic and fortitude, not to mention perseverence. I believe Professor McGonagall warned you a year ago that it is a difficult career path. This class was intended to prepare all interested students for it."

"Wow," Harry murmured. "I guess, I..."

She was smirking at him, just the slightest. "Part of the necessary qualities all Aurors-in-training must possess is to recognize their own abilities in spite of criticism. If you quail in the face of sharp words from your allies, how are we to trust you in the face of an opponent?"

Harry let out his breath in a half-laugh. "Don't listen to the naysayers," he murmured.

"Potter?"

He felt himself smiling involuntarily. "Something Professor Snape told me."

She chuckled dryly. "I'm not surprised."

Feeling another knot of anxiety loosen inside him, he asked, "So does this mean I'll get in?"

Her eyebrow went up. "Provided you apply yourself to achieving the necessary N.E.W.T.s, I imagine you will be accepted. Minister Bones is interested in increasing the ranks of the Aurors—although I sincerely doubt she has any intention of lowering the traditional standards for admission."

"Meaning the Auror trainers will be just as tough as you?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself.

This time, she laughed outright, although he detected a knowing slyness to it that was all the warning he needed about what he'd be facing in the Auror training. "They had bloody well better be."

"So, Mr. Potter, I understand Professor Smythe-Wellington gave you full marks and a high recommendation for Magical Law Enforcement," said Professor McGonagall later that day in her office.

Harry nodded, feeling vaguely ashamed of himself. "I guess it never occurred to me that someone would have a reason for being so...so..."

"Difficult?" Professor McGonagall supplied, with a faint smirk. When Harry blushed, she remarked, "You will find, Potter, that half the challenge of getting a thorough education is the necessity of dealing with difficult people. The world is full of them, and we, your teachers, are charged with preparing you for more than intellectual tests."

"You'd think I'd have realized that," Harry said sheepishly, and she chuckled. He noticed it wasn't unlike the way Professor Smythe-Wellington chuckled.

"Few students do realize it right away. I asked her to teach that class in the hope that she would enlighten a few of you."

"YOU asked her to teach here?" Harry exclaimed. He had assumed (as he'd assumed a lot of things) that Smythe-Wellington was another ill-considered hire by Dumbledore. The thought gave him a pang.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I did indeed. I broached the subject to her over a year ago—the very evening after we first discussed your interest in the Auror program, in fact." She watched Harry's face as he put it all together, and gave just the faintest of smiles. A distinctly smug smile. "I did assure you then, did I not, that I would assist you in becoming an Auror if it was the last thing I did?" Harry nodded weakly, and she went on, "I do not make such promises lightly, Mr. Potter. I knew that you would need a competent teacher this year, and immediately set about persuading Priscilla Smythe-Wellington to take up the task. I had no doubt that under her charge, you would learn what was needed to qualify."

Shaking his head, Harry mused, "Everyone's always making plans without telling me about them."

"Such is life, Mr. Potter. I strongly advise you to get used to it." Harry was startled to see that the stern headmistress seemed to be holding back a laugh.

Glancing around the office, he marveled inwardly at how the place felt so much like HER office now, even though it had always seemed like Dumbledore belonged here. But unlike with Umbridge, the office had let Professor McGonagall in. "Professor, I've been wondering…" he said cautiously, gazing at the portraits.

She nodded knowingly, "To make a proper wizarding portrait takes some time. I expect we will see it here amongst the other former Headmasters within the year."

Harry sighed and smiled sheepishly. "I'm…glad."

Professor McGonagall waved dismissively. "It is not a weakness to desire the presence of those who have been lost, Potter. Percy Weasley understood that more than any of us gave him credit for in the hour of his death." She nodded to the wizard photographs adorning her desk, under the watchful eyes of Fawkes.

Harry recognized Murdo McGonagall, but none of the others. Most of them he suspected were Professor McGonagall's family members, but his eyes were drawn to one of a much younger wizard, barely older than Harry's parents had been when they died. He looked a little bit like the McGonagalls, but…

"Duncan."

Embarrassed at having been caught staring, Harry glanced at Professor McGonagall and said, "Sorry?"

She nodded to the photograph. "That was Duncan. My son." At Harry's startled face, she explained, "He was an Auror. He was killed in the first war."

"Oh." Harry looked at the wizard, young and strong with black hair like his mother's and a rather mischievous grin that reminded him of Sirius, and thought of his parents, of Percy, of Mrs. Weasley, and suddenly felt incredibly sad.

"Be grateful for the opportunities you are given in life, Harry. And as both I and the rest of your professors have advised, do not allow others to discourage you from pursuing your desires. Time for such things is always short."

"You decided not to apply?" Ron was stunned, and Harry had to admit he was shocked himself, when Hermione told them she wasn't going to be an Auror.

"I talked it over with Professor Smythe-Wellington for a long time," she said, looking faintly sad, but much less worried and tense than she'd looked the night before. "She said I have a lot of skill, but...I think she knew I wouldn't be a very good Auror. My heart may be on our side, but it's just not in...fighting, the ways yours are."

Harry dished himself another helping of treacle tart and asked, "So what are you going to do?"

"Dunno yet," Hermione said, accepting a bowl of ice cream from Ginny as all their friends listened curiously. "The Magical Law Enforcement applications were the earliest ones that have to go in; I've still got a little time."

"Maybe you could be a Healer," Ginny suggested. "That needs a lot of book smarts, and you'd be, you know, fixing things instead of breaking them—no offense," she added to Harry and Ron.

Ron snorted. "None taken," and Harry echoed it, but Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"I thought about that, but seeing all those wounded wizards would probably still make me miserable." She sighed. "I guess I just don't have as much Gryffindor courage as you lot." She wistfully smiled at Harry and Ron.

"Don't say that!" Neville protested. "You faced down Cornelius Fudge more than once, got Mr. McGonagall to defend Harry and Mr. Black, and told off reporters more times than I can count! You're braver than a lot of us!"

"Good point," Ginny agreed.

"Use what talents you possess," said Luna Lovegood in a singsong voice, sitting down on the side of the bench next to Neville. "The woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those who sang best."

"Maybe you could be a barrister like Mr. McGonagall," suggested Ron.

"Hmm," Hermione mused. "That's a possibility, I suppose."

Ron shook his head. "It's funny; I always thought you would know what you wanted to do before any of us. You always know so much."

Hermione cuffed him. "Just because I come to class PREPARED, Ronald, does not mean I have all the answers in life."

"Then how come you always act like you do," Ron whispered playfully, earning himself another cuff.

"There's lots of possibilities," said Harry. "And like you say, you've got plenty of time."

"But you still applied, right, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. She gave me a better evaluation than I expected," Harry said, grinning to himself.

Ron nodded vigorously. "Right about that one, mate. I thought for sure she'd say I had no chance, but she actually said I was well-qualified. She says I'd have a good chance of getting in if I get decent N.E.W.T.s."

"I decided not to apply either," said Neville. "Nothing in Magical Law Enforcement really catches me the way it does you and Ron, although...I did decide to try to qualify for an independent N.E.W.T. I want to try for Healer training."

"So," Hermione said thoughtfully, counting off on her fingers, "you'd need N.E.W.T.s in Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, and..."

"Potions!" Ginny gasped.

Ron let out a whoop of delight and clapped Neville on the back. "Now THAT is Gryffindor courage for you!"

"I'm going to help him," Luna announced. "He could get an Outstanding if he believes in himself."

Ron looked doubtful, but Hermione nodded firmly. "Right you are, Luna. Right you are."

"How are your O.W.L.s coming?" Harry asked Ginny, who was looking distinctly the worse for wear from all the studying.

"One more tomorrow," she sighed. "Then we're done, thank heavens. I can't wait to go home."

"Me either," Harry said.

"Bet this is the first time you've ever looked forward to the summer, eh, Harry?" Ron laughed.

"Definitely," Harry said. "I never thought I'd look forward to meeting the train home!"

"Sirius'll be waiting," Hermione said happily, giving Harry a one-armed hug. "At King's Cross, just like a normal parent. And Remus will meet us at headquarters the day after."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling a giddy anticipation inside that was downright alien to him. "I never thought I'd...I'd...have something like this." He felt blood rush to his face, but his friends grinned at him.

"You deserve it," Ginny said firmly. "Everyone deserves that. Someone to come home to."

That triggered something in Harry's mind, and his face fell. His friends all dropped their smiles as well. "What's the matter, mate?" Ron asked, alarmed.

"I...just thinking," he murmured. "There's something...something I really ought to do."

So much had happened this year that there were things Harry had forgotten about. Things he couldn't afford to think about if he wanted to stay safe and sane, but he supposed he had to face them down if he wanted to move on with life. And it didn't seem right otherwise.

He went to see Professor McGonagall right after dinner that night, and the next day, she sent him via Portkey with Tonks as an escort to a little house in Derbyshire. It was on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood, perfectly normal and unassuming, with nothing at all about it to suggest anything out of the ordinary.

They arrived in the foyer, and were greeted by Petunia Dursley.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to expect. He hadn't seen her in almost a year, since that horrible night Uncle Vernon had died, and in all honesty he hadn't thought about her and Dudley much as the events of the year unfolded. There was no blood magic remaining to require him to live with her ever again, or even talk to her if he didn't want to, but...it felt wrong not to make certain that she and his cousin were safe.

He doubted he would find them really okay.

"I wondered if you'd ever turn up," she said by way of greeting.

She'd obviously been expecting him. Professor McGonagall had probably sent word. Harry found that she looked mostly the same, although very subdued and even thinner than before. He knew from the Order that this was a safehouse, warded as strongly as possible, to keep his aunt and cousin safe for the remainder of the war.

He knew they'd be safer if he, Harry, never came back again.

"I just wanted to make sure you're all right."

"All right." She laughed without humor. Harry could see Dudley in the kitchen, peering out at them. Dudley was thinner too, and looked like he hadn't been practicing his boxing. He made no move to come any closer to his visiting cousin, and Harry made no attempt to speak to him. Aunt Petunia went on, "We've been hiding out here for ten months, wondering if one of those magical monsters would come hunt us down, and you ask if we're all right. We barely had a chance to lay my husband to rest—oh, push off," she said, waving away Harry's attempt to muster his regrets. "I know, I know, you didn't choose it, it's not your fault. That doesn't mean I want any more of your kind in here than absolutely necessary to keep us alive. Are you necessary to keep us alive?"

Harry couldn't deny that her coldness stung, just a little, but at least it didn't surprise him. It was both more and less than he'd expected, given her past treatment of him. "No, I'm not. I just thought it was right to make sure you were safe."

Aunt Petunia shrugged. "I suppose if your lot says we're safe. Not that people like Dudley and me know what's 'safe' by your standards."

"Well..." Harry swallowed. "I'm glad." It seemed like the right sort of thing to say, even if he couldn't muster much feeling behind it. "And..." this was easier to say sincerely, "I really did try to save Uncle Vernon. I really was sorry."

She waved him off again. "I know. Not as sorry as we were, though."

"Maybe if he'd cared a little more, I would have too."

Bloody hell, he hadn't meant to say that. He'd sworn to himself he wouldn't come here just to yell at her.

But there it was, and to his surprise, Aunt Petunia wasn't the least bit shocked or even angry. "We didn't ask for this either, you know. What did you want us to feel? Glad to have you after the chaos your lot had already brought into my life?"

"No," Harry muttered, wishing he'd never come. "I don't know."

Aunt Petunia stared out the window. "Neither do I. In any case, what's done is done. I know the protections are gone, so there's no reason for you to stay."

"I'm not staying," he told her. "My godfather was found innocent at his trial, and he's my guardian now. I'm going to live with him."

She snorted. "I'm very happy for you."

Harry concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths and not letting the emotions churning inside him take control. "Anyway, you'll be glad to hear I probably won't ever see you again." She didn't deny it. "I just thought I ought to make sure you were okay. Professor McGonagall—my Headmistress—says that when the war's over, you'll be safe to get away from the wizarding world for good."

Aunt Petunia shrugged. "They've respected our wishes for the most part, I suppose. No freakish technology in the house. I still cook like a normal person for my normal son, and the neighbors assume he has a private tutor."

Harry didn't respond to that. "Well. You'll be fine, then. There was...some paperwork one of my professors sent about my guardian..."

"It's signed. If he wants to adopt you, he's free to do it. I made sure of that."

"Thanks," he said wearily. "Well, I'll be going then." I won't thank you for taking care of me for the past fifteen years... "I guess...thanks for keeping me alive. And I'm sorry I couldn't..."

Aunt Petunia turned back toward the sitting room. "I know, I know. Just end this bloody war soon so my son and I can get on with our lives."

"We'll end the war so a lot of people can get on with our lives," Harry told her curtly. "Goodbye, then. And good luck."

Still not looking at him as Tonks silently handed him the portkey, Aunt Petunia said quietly, "I wish they'd never brought you to us."

Harry paused, and waited until she turned around. "Believe me: so do I." Then he tightened his fist around the portkey, and let himself be swept away from Petunia and Dudley Dursley in a whirl of wind and color.

"I forbid you from feeling guilty," Hermione told him sharply that night. "You gave them more than they deserved just by checking up on them. You have a right to be happy, Harry."

"She's right," said Ron. "You're finally done with them, mate. Don't let them hang over your head and ruin going home to a real family for the first time!"

"I know," Harry said, stretching his legs across the common room sofa. He knew he ought to be happy about being finally well shut of the Dursleys, but a strange, dark feeling still hung over him. Vague regrets and hurts that just wouldn't go away and leave him alone.

Ginny came and sat down next to him. "They were horrible to you. None of what happened was your fault. They should've been more understanding. Maybe you wouldn't have joined this world if they'd made you welcome in that one."

Watching the fire crackle thoughtfully, Harry mused, "Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. If they'd loved me...I might not have come to Hogwarts if they'd asked me not to." He thought of his life the summer before he turned eleven, and... "I could've been like Dudley."

And then he started to laugh. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny quickly joined him. "Did you know Malfoy's staying here this summer?" asked Ron.

Harry sat up, startled. "What?"

Ginny nodded. "That's what I heard too. He's got no home to go to, and there's no one who can ward him to keep him safe, so Snape's keeping him here."

No one ever did that for me! Harry was resentful in spite of himself, but Ginny patted his knee. "He's really got nowhere to go. Even less than the Dursleys."

"True," Harry mused.

"Wonder if he's going to stay with Snape," said Neville, who had been playing Exploding Snap with Seamus at one of the tables.

"Ugh! Can you imagine? That'd be a holiday in hell!" said Dean Thomas.

"Who knows, Snape likes Malfoy," said Ron. "It probably won't be that bad. Still, I'll bet it's weird for him watching all of us get on the train tomorrow."

Harry shook his head, watching Bastet and Crookshanks chasing a stray chess piece across the floor. "To think my cousin thinks magic alone is weird. I think weird is the kind of stuff we have to deal with from people, wizard or Muggle."

"Right about that, mate," said Ron.

Harry still had Occlumency lessons with Snape. "You showed yourself capable of at least resisting him; that alone is reason to continue," the Potions Master told him.

"I know," Harry sighed. "It's just frustrating, the thought that I can never completely keep him out."

"Few real victories are complete victories, Potter," Snape told him, attacking his mind and slowly increasing the pressure.

Gritting his teeth, Harry repelled it after a few minutes, then they stopped to catch their breath. "Yeah, I guess not. Still…"

Snape eyed him. "I have refrained until now from asking you what you saw in his mind."

Harry blinked. "In his…oh, the battle." He shook his head. "Sorry, if you'd asked, I wouldn't care—I don't remember much. My head and my mind hurt so bad by then nothing made sense. I just…sort of…grabbed at him and held on. Just trying to make him pay attention to me." It made him shudder, remembering. "It hurt."

With a distracted nod, Snape looked away from him. "I was uncertain. In any case, had you not already been wounded, you might have found yourself more closely matched to him as a Legilimens. I have never attempted to train you strongly in that skill, yet you improvised it under extremely difficult circumstances."

"What does that mean?"

Snape turned to him. "It leads me to believe that your scar, the magic that connects you, will never be completely blocked. This means you cannot completely repel him…but nor can he successfully repel you. It was your own mind that was the cause of your visions, just as much as his."

Slowly, Harry went to one of the chairs facing Snape's desk and sat down. "So…our minds…they're just…stuck this way? Together?"

"You have made considerable progress at shielding yourself, and you have a greater awareness of what thoughts are yours and what are not," Snape told him. "It is hardly a hopeless situation."

Harry leaned sideways in the chair, digesting this. "I don't really remember what I was thinking before, it was just…instinct."

Snape snorted. "I would not go that far. Battle instinct leads many men to take action they normally would consider mad."

"Like Malfoy hexing Voldemort?" Harry asked slyly. Snape glared, but did not deny it. "I guess I ought to thank him for that."

"You subsequently saved his life and mine; it is unnecessary." Snape motioned him to his feet, and they resumed.

Harry grinned. "I guess I had a few back debts where you were concerned, but Malfoy and I are even."

Snape waited until they went through another round of mental attacking and parrying to answer. "Life debts are not Quidditch scores, Potter."

"Then why…" Harry caught himself and blushed, but Snape figured out what he'd been about to say anyway.

"The magic of a wizard's debt comes from honor, not a count of actions and reactions. Had you attempted to save Malfoy in order to settle your debt, rather than simply because taking action was the correct thing to do, you would still find yourself indebted to him. As would be the case vice versa—only a selfless act can trigger or settle a wizard's debt."

Harry stared at him for several minutes as something clicked in his mind. So that was why he saved my life over and over again, and kept looking out for me even though he hated me. The debt to my father never stopped…

"You're transparent as glass, Potter," Snape said scornfully.

"Sorry," Harry said, thinking too hard to care. He sat down again, rubbing his forehead. "Then how could Pettigrew keep attacking me? I saved his life in the Shrieking Shack a long time ago."

"Debt magic is not as powerful as sacrificial or love magic. It cannot prevent anyone from acting. Pettigrew has no doubt been very aware that what he has done to you is contrary to every law of decency. More so now that he's…" Snape broke off, and Harry looked at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Snape began, but Harry stood up, and he scowled.

Obviously I'm not the only transparent one around here. "What else happened to Pettigrew? He disappeared when Voldemort showed up at the battle."

Snape shook his head. "He was there; he merely cowered for the rest of it." He glanced at Harry and sighed. "What happened between you and the Dark Lord disturbed him. I rather doubt you will see much more of him."

"Why, my Legilimency?"

"No. Before that, immediately after the Dark Lord's arrival, Pettigrew attempted to kill you." Harry nodded. His neck had been bruised for days. "He was stopped by the shades of Storgé."

Harry sat back down again. Hard. "That's what you meant when you asked me…"

"What you saw, yes. From where I stood, it was quite a shock to Pettigrew to find himself face to face with his victims. It was the first time I had seen those shades express rage." Snape visibly pulled himself back to the present, and went on, "Pettigrew fled from you then and had several openings afterward, but did not use them."

Harry wasn't really listening. "The spell…the one Voldemort did…something about spirits…"

"A variant of a ghost banishing spell, no doubt adapted to deal with the Pillar of Storgé's imprints. He could not risk attacking you as long as that magic still surrounded you."

"They're gone…" Harry whispered, shaken. "They're gone, aren't they? That's how he hurt me so much."

"It appears so. They vanished after the spell, and I did not see them again," Snape said quietly.

I never saw them. Never. Now I never will. Everyone sees them but me.

"They were shadows, Potter. Not real."

Harry swallowed hard against his churning insides. "I…I know…" he murmured. "I know."

After the lesson, Harry wandered the halls for quite awhile, deep in thought. Going back to see Aunt Petunia had left him with a vague awareness of having been cheated out of something important, and the knowledge of what had happened on the battlefield had only added to it.

I'm going to live with my godfather. I should be happy.

He trudged around for a little longer, then found his way to a bathroom to wash his face, hoping to clear the cobwebs out of his mind.

We got out of the battle alive. Sirius is free.

I made Voldemort bleed.

They weren't real. He didn't kill them. Not this time anyway.

He didn't take anything I hadn't already lost.

But Harry had Legilimized him, long enough to save Snape and Malfoy. Pettigrew was exposed, and Sirius was free.

He had a home again.

Harry stared into the mirror at his scar.

The connection can never be completely blocked.

"You cannot completely repel him…nor can he successfully repel you…"

Voldemort had looked almost surprised. He remembered that. In the split second after shouting his name, Harry had looked straight into those nasty red eyes and pushed…

"Real victories are seldom complete victories."

Harry stared at his scar.

Then, he stared into his scar. Through it.

He reached out, into the reflection of his green eyes and his lightning bolt scar until…

They were two. And he could see surprise reflected in those green eyes that were not entirely his anymore.

Moving took an effort, as if his body weren't entirely his, but he looked into the reflection and whispered,

"You didn't think I could do it, did you? You were as surprised as I was."

Shock gave way to anger…how dare he…

Another deep breath. He stared hard into his own eyes.

"So you learned the prophecy. But it won't be as easy as you think. I've learned a few things too."

Furious denials nearly burst from his lips, thoughts that weren't his…he concentrated. On keeping his mind his own, but holding onto the eyes looking out through his.

And to his mild surprise, they stayed. Possibly curious to know what he wanted to say.

"I just want you to know what I know: I can't keep you out, but you can't keep me out either. I know we're connected now, and one day we're going to fight. And either will die at the hand of the other."

There was an alien look in his eyes, one he'd never seen before, but it wasn't Voldemort. Voldemort wasn't in control here.

It was him. Harry. Himself. This was what he looked like standing face to face with Voldemort.

"I'm ready for you."

That same night, a deeply-disturbed Minerva McGonagall summoned the Order of the Phoenix's elder members to Grimmauld Place. She brought Albus Dumbledore's Pensieve with her.

"What's the emergency, Minerva?" asked Sirius in alarm. "Is it Harry?"

"No, he's fine," she assured him. "I would not call this an emergency, although I thought it wise to acquaint all of you with it as soon as possible. It concerns a prophecy that was given in my presence today."

Several Order members hissed, and Severus Snape muttered, "More bloody prophecies..."

"Sybill again?" asked Remus.

Minerva shook her head. "No. And I must commend you, Severus, that a certain theory of yours from a few months ago has proven extremely correct." At Snape's baffled expression, she placed the Pensieve on the table and tapped it once with her wand.

The figure of Hermione Granger rose to its surface.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed someone, but the others hissed for silence.

The young witch, her face trancelike and unaware, spoke in a low, unnatural voice:

ON THE THIRD NIGHT OF THE THIRD MONTH, THE FALLEN SHALL NUMBER THREE. BLOOD SHALL BE SPILT OF THE INNOCENT AS WELL AS THE GUILTY AND HERALD THE END OF THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE DARK AND THE LIGHT...TWO SHALL DIE DEFIANT...ONE SHALL DIE REPENTANT...TWO SHALL DIE TRAITORS...TWO SHALL DIE FREED...ON THE THIRD NIGHT OF THE THIRD MONTH, THE FALLEN SHALL NUMBER THREE...

The Order of the Phoenix was stunned and silent, there in the basement kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, for a very long time.

There was really nothing to be said. Nothing to be done.

As Albus Dumbledore was always so fond of saying, there is no denying what must be.

Harry was practically skipping as he hauled his trunk along in front of his friends to the Hogwarts Express.

"I'm going hooome, I'm going hooome!"

Ginny and Ron were doubled over with laughter, Hermione and Neville were ribbing him playfully, and Hagrid was grinning at them. "Never mind that lot, Harry! You enjoy this trip! Yeh always look so sad when we're loadin' up the train!"

"Sirius is waiting at King's Cross," Ron told Hagrid. "He can hardly wait to get there."

Hagrid slapped Harry on the back, nearly knocking him over his trunk, but caught him and neatly stowed the heavy thing in the baggage compartment. "You lot have yerselves a fine summer. I'll probably be seein' yeh on and off, with the you-know-what, but I'm glad yeh'll be taken care of this summer, for once."

"We'll take care of him," Ginny promised, giving Harry a rather powerful squeeze from behind, making him grunt in protest.

"Best be loadin' yerselves up. Yer heading off soon," Hagrid advised them, moving to assist some first-years with their luggage.

As they started onto the train, Ron caught Harry's arm. "Psst! Look!"

Draco Malfoy, still in his school robes, was standing a little away from the hustle and bustle of the platform, watching the students getting ready to leave. Harry couldn't read what the Slytherin boy was thinking, but couldn't help wondering what it was like—or rather, if having to stay at Hogwarts to avoid being murdered by your own family was anything like going back to a family that hated magic. It was a rather uncomfortable thought, comparing his feelings to Malfoy's.

Professor Snape was standing behind Draco, keeping a wary eye on the students, although the Aurors watching over the train made everyone feel reasonably secure. Harry noticed Blaise Zabini going cautiously over to Malfoy, both their faces carefully neutral. Harry was close enough to hear what they said.

"So you're staying here, then?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay," said Zabini. "I guess I'll see you next year."

"Yeah."

With a wary eye on Snape, Zabini shrugged. "Bye, then." And he left his Housemate standing on the platform.

Blimey, I'm glad the Sorting Hat didn't put me in Slytherin.

As the last of the students hurried aboard the train, Draco glanced at Professor Snape. "What am I going to do this summer, anyway?"

Snape said calmly, "I'll be putting you to work, of course." Draco looked startled, but at Snape's challenging gaze, quickly schooled his expression into a calm nod. "Come. Let's return to the castle."

As they walked off, Harry let Ron and the others urge him into a compartment, and he opened the window and stuck his head out, eager to enjoy every last second of this departure. Hagrid finished checking to make sure all the doors were closed and waved at him.

"Look after yerself, Harry! Good luck to yeh!"

"Thanks! Bye, Hagrid!"

The train's whistle blew, and Harry remained leaning out of the window as they began moving down the track, waving for all he was worth.

To be continued…

Coming soon: The war rages on into the summer and seventh year as we begin speeding through time toward the endgame! Our young heroes enjoy their summer as a family, but discover that they will have to share their space with some unexpected and less-than-welcome guests in Chapter Forty-Five: Guess Who's Coming To Dinner!

PLEASE don't forget to review!