A/N: This is it, the last full-length chapter! After this shall come an Interlude, then an Epilogue, and then Harry Potter and The Battle of Wills shall be complete. Mum and I have been working hard, and we expect to be finished in time for everyone to turn their attention to the long-awaited Real Thing (namely The Half-Blood Prince). Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and comments.

Special Note: To my readers in the U.K., especially London, please know that our thoughts and hearts are with you. The month I spent in England last summer was one of the best experiences of my life, and our hearts are breaking at the atrocity that was committed against you and your beautiful city.

WARNING: There is some intense violence in this chapter, and one rather creepy scene. Please proceed with caution.

Chapter Forty-Nine: The Wicked Die Alone

Harry leaned back into the pillows of his infirmary bed and sighed. Every muscle in his body was aching, but for the first time in a long time, he felt good. His mind kept playing over his meeting with his parents and the way it felt to be held by them. Voldemort was dead; no one at the moment was actively trying to kill him. It just felt…good.

Several of the D.A. members had gathered around his bed: in chairs, leaning against the wall, and

in the case of Ron, Hermione, Fred, and Ginny, squeezed onto the foot of the bed. In another bed nearby, Sirius Black was having his leg tended to. Harry found himself glancing that way often, just to reassure himself that Sirius had come through all right. Other Order members were coming in and out to confer with him. Around Harry's bed, all conversation would stop while they endeavored to overhear what was being reported. A couple of times, Sirius caught them at it, but he merely gave an amused lift of his eyebrows and made no attempt to prevent them from hearing.

He'd spent a few days doing nothing but sleeping, and then drifted in and out of consciousness for a few days after that. On the occasions he had been awake, he'd always been aware of people around him, some sitting or reclining on the edge of his bed, talking in hushed voices. Often he was dimly aware of someone stroking his hair, or gently holding his bandaged hands. It should have annoyed him, being fussed over and petted while he was asleep, but…it didn't really. Especially not when he woke up and found Ron and Hermione on either side of him, wedged onto the edges of the bed and snoozing with him in the middle. Sometimes, he woke up and found a big dog curled up by his feet. That was nice.

Ron had had to spend a few days in the hospital wing for his own recuperation; Voldemort's curse had come close to killing him. "Just a stubborn little git, this one," Bill Weasley had informed Harry, ruffling Ron's hair. Once Ron was released, he spent much of his time either on Harry's bed or next to it, playing chess or Exploding Snap with his convalescent friend.

Mr. Ollivander had paid Harry a special visit in the hospital wing, and brought with him a new wand, since Harry's previous one had been destroyed along with its brother wand in the battle. "I am confident that this one will be a good fit for you, Mr. Potter," the old wizard said, presenting Harry with the narrow box. "Twelve inches. Golden beech and phoenix feather."

"Phoenix feather again?" Ron asked in surprise.

"Oh, I am quite certain that phoenix feather is the only wand core suited to Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said firmly. "It was merely a question of determining the wand's other features. Try it out, my boy."

Harry took the wand hesitantly, and gave it a wave. Red and gold sparks shot out of the tip, and he felt a sense of familiarity that reminded him of his old wand. "Think you're right," he murmured.

Other people in the hospital wing were crowding around to take a look, and Mr. Ollivander nodded proudly. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter, but the wizard is still the one who wields the wand. This combination may not be so dramatic as the last, but…" he smiled knowingly. "I suspect we may still expect great things from you."

Running his fingertips over the wood, Harry murmured, "Thank you."

The old wizard bowed. "My pleasure."

A few days after he'd finally recovered enough to move around a bit, Tonks came in; she was acting as a liaison between the forces remaining at Godric's Hollow and the command center at the school. Passing Harry's bed, she gave him a wink and held out a rolled up paper. "The Special from the Daily Prophet, after Godric's Hollow. Interested?"

Ginny reached for it eagerly. "Definitely. Let's see." Tonks handed it over and went on to speak with Sirius.

Hermione joined Ginny in folding out the front page. "Look at the size of that headline: Dark Lord Slain By Boy-Who-Lived!"

Harry groaned.

Ginny scanned the accompanying article. "Pretty general. They didn't have much in the way of details yet."

"Maybe there's more inside," Ron suggested.

Ginny turned the page. She said nothing.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Obituaries for the people killed in the Hogsmeade attack, and…the week before. Mr. Harris from the Quidditch shop," she paused, "Mr. Zonko…his family owned that business for a hundred years…no relatives listed…" Her voice trailed off.

Harry shifted uneasily. He didn't want to think about Mr. Zonko and his partnership with Fred and George.

Hermione took the paper from Ginny and continued. "The rest are Hogsmeade residents, and an Auror – John Bayley." She turned the page and a soft "Oh" came from her lips. She looked at Harry. "Remus…and Draco. Do you want me to read these?"

Watching Harry's face, Ron said quickly, "Read Draco's."

Hermione took a breath and began. "Draco Malfoy, age 17. Scion of the prestigious Malfoy family. Seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mr. Malfoy is survived by his mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy, and by his…" Hermione paused, "his godfather, Severus Snape."

There had been widespread panic among the Death Eaters when Voldemort fell. While some kept on fighting, many had pulled off their masks and stood resignedly waiting for their surrender to be acknowledged. But the majority had fled the field, in numbers large enough to constitute a continued threat to the wizarding world.

Already prepared for the possibility, teams of Aurors, led by Mad-Eye Moody, set off in pursuit. As the days following the fall of Voldemort wore on, messages came in reporting the rounding up of small groups of Death Eaters, but the main stronghold had not been located.

Reading the latest report at Sirius's bedside, Snape frowned at Harry leaning against the pillows, "Pity that you can't use that scar of yours to tell us where Voldemort was before the battle, Potter."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that would simplify things."

Ron laughed. "Why should things start getting easy now?"

A commotion erupted at the door as Professor Smythe-Wellington entered, almost running. "Sirius! Snape! We've got a fix on their headquarters."

Sirius pulled himself up with a grimace. "Where?"

"It's located in the south of Scotland, hilly area. The stronghold is a large stone building in the center of a dense woodland. The majority of the Death Eaters are concentrated there, and it's believed that Lucius Malfoy is running the show." She continued. "We've secured the perimeter with anti-apparition wards. Anyone in there will have to fight their way out."

Sirius was already signaling to nearby Auror officers. "How large a force is needed to take it?"

She smiled wearily. "Everyone we can get."

Snape had started towards the door, but stopped with a startled oath as Harry came out of the bed. "What do you think you're doing, Potter?" he snapped.

"I'm going with you." At his statement, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the other D.A. members in the room scrambled to fall in behind him.

Snape waved them back. "There is no need. Your battle is over."

Harry shook his head. "Not yet, it isn't."

Sirius pulled himself upright and walked over. "This is going to be a smaller battle. We won't need the D.A."

Harry refused to back down. "Then we'll stay on the perimeter, pass messages, do first aid, whatever's needed, but we're coming." A strong murmur of agreement rose from the others around him.

Snape looked at Sirius and Sirius shrugged. "Very well, Potter," Snape snarled. "But you will stay back and do exactly as instructed."

Sirius spoke quietly. "He's already proved himself capable of following orders."

Professor Smythe-Wellington nodded. "I agree. And having them on the perimeter will free up more of us to get inside."

Snape scowled but made no further argument.

"That's settled then." Her eyes took in the group. "You're with me." She turned and followed Sirius and Snape from the infirmary, Harry and the others close behind her.

Once again, the castle became a hive of activity as groups gathered, received their orders, and left to apparate to the stronghold location. The small group of D.A. members with Harry were assigned a location, and under Professor Smythe-Wellington's directions, they followed Sirius to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds and apparated out.

Harry found himself at the edge of a thick wood, eerily reminiscent of the Forest of Shadows. The same sense of maleveolence seemed to permeate the ground, the trees, the very air around them.

"Bloody hell," he heard Ron whisper behind him.

Hell indeed. For a moment, Harry felt frozen as memories washed over him of the Fortress, the Mountain…Remus, Sirius…and Snape.

"Harry?" Sirius touched his arm, rousing him. "We want the group of you back there, behind that ridge." He gave his godson a look of understanding. "Unpleasant place. Just stay well back."

Startled out of his reverie, Harry grabbed Sirius's arm. "Where will you be?"

"I'm going in with the others. Professor Smythe-Wellington is directing things out here."

"Be careful…I mean, I know you will, just don't take chances now that…" Harry suddenly felt as if he were babbling, but he couldn't help himself. Sirius…going in harm's way again…

"I will, Harry." Sirius pulled him into a quick hug. Aurors and Order members around them were starting their advance into the trees, wands drawn. Sirius released Harry, pulled out his own wand, and without another word, joined the others.

At Professor Smythe-Wellington's command, Harry and the others took their positions on the ridge. It gave them the advantage of being able to look over the area. Within moments of the advance into the woods, flashes of curse light could be seen. Next to him, Harry saw Hermione shudder. Remembering what she'd said about hating battles, Harry nudged Ron, who reached over and pulled her to him. She took a couple of deep breaths and smiled. "Thanks. I'll be all right."

A sudden commotion and an increase in the flashes of curse light indicated that the closest troops had reached the stronghold. Harry, along with some of the others, climbed a little higher on the ridge to get a better view. A shouted command from below as Professor Smythe-Wellington realized their intent, sent them scrambling back down and taking shelter behind boulders and outcroppings.

Harry crouched behind a rocky ledge that ran along above the north edge of the woods. Keeping low, he moved along it until he came to a small opening. Looking down through it, he could see figures, both red and black, fighting in the thinner areas of the woods. Curse light flashed so furiously as to be almost blinding.

Fred slid over to look along with him. "Smythe-Wellington says a lot of Death Eaters reported down on the south side of the stronghold. A lot of them are surrendering too."

"Good," Harry replied. He spotted a small group of black robes moving furtively toward the edge of the woods, obviously aiming to slip beyond the anti-apparation wards and escape, so he and the others took aim with their wands, and cast a spectacular ring of sparks around the fugitives. In less than a minute, nearly a dozen Aurors were honing in on them.

Someone signaled to them for a messenger, so Fred and Lee Jordan slipped away and headed down the hillside to join the Auror crews. A few minutes later, a glowing silver bird flew up into Hermione's hands, then transformed into a paper note. She opened it and read, "They've entered the stronghold and started a systematic search. We're to keep a look out for any areas in the hills where there might be secret exits."

"Probably got an escape tunnel," Ron mused, peering into the rocks around them.

"Or more than one," Harry agreed.

"Is that a cave or a tunnel up above us?" Ginny asked, pointing at a small, dark opening nearly invisible in the rocky terrain.

"Hmm…" Hermione regarded it, then shined a light from her wand into it. "Not sure." She conjured another silver bird and sent a message down to Fred and Lee. "They'll send someone to check it out." Below them, they spotted Fred and Lee receiving the message and talking to Snape, who had returned to report to one of the Aurors. He waved an acknowledgement and started up the hillside.

Just then, there was a rattle of rocks and dirt being knocked down the slope, and Harry and his friends spun around in time to hear agitated voices from the mouth of the opening. "Tunnel," Ginny hissed unnecessarily, and Hermione aimed some sparks down the hillside, to warn Snape what was happening. "Stay down!"

"We can't let them get away!" Ron protested.

"We won't," Harry agreed. "But if they think someone's here, they may try for another exit, and we'll lose them."

Above them, they could hear the Death Eaters hissing to each other in frantic voices, the sounds echoing out of the tunnel, and then a familiar, cultured, and cruel voice snapping, "Keep up, dammit!"

Harry's blood ran cold. It was Lucius Malfoy. A few moments later, a very nervous Crabbe, Sr. emerged from the tunnel, peering around before signaling to the others that the coast was clear. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny crouched as low as they could, listening to the Death Eaters slipping out into the open.

"We're still inside the wards. It's another two hundred yards before we can apparate," said Dolohov.

"We will rendevous in Paris," Malfoy told the others. "At the safe house, then make our way to a more secured location to regroup and…determine our options."

Ginny tugged at Harry's arm, giving him an urgent look, and he nodded; if the Death Eaters got away today, they might be able to escape the authorities long enough to reform and keep doing real damage. Especially with Lucius Malfoy in the lead. Cautiously, Ginny began slipping down the hillside, keeping herself out of sight, to go and meet Snape. Harry alternated between watching her and watching the Death Eaters, until she managed to intercept the Potions Master, pulling him down to keep their cover from being blown.

The Death Eaters were starting to move away from them, intending to climb over the ridge and keep the hill between themselves and the fighting until they reached the edge of the anti-apparation wards. Hermione motioned to Harry and Ron that she would stay to direct Snape, and so the two of them cautiously followed the dark wizards. It didn't take Snape long to catch up with them. "Reinforcements are on the way," he muttered to Harry. His eyes were dark and hooded, but Harry could tell what the Potions Master was thinking: he had a score to settle with Lucius Malfoy.

But Snape had restrained himself from acting too quickly, and they might have managed to do nothing more than follow the Death Eaters if Dolohov hadn't looked over his shoulder at precisely the wrong moment. "OY!"

Snape was up like a shot, taking dead aim with his wand. "Ictus!"

Three of the Death Eaters in Malfoy's group went flying, Crabbe took off in one direction, Lucius in the other as Dolohov returned fire. Harry ducked between Snape and Ron for a clear shot at the tunnel entrance. "REDUCTO!"

The dirt and rocks above the opening crashed down into it, and another blast from the still-hidden Hermione effectively cut off that escape route. Ron took off after them, and Crabbe and Dolohov soon found themselves pinned between two very effective D.A. members, neither of whom revealed their position from the rocks.

Snape was in pursuit of Lucius Malfoy, and Harry scrambled over the ridge to cut the former Dark Lord's lieutenant off. He nearly didn't make it over the rough terrain, but settled for throwing a volley of curses in front of Malfoy, which had the effect of making the man think there were more enemies in front of him. He reared back and dodged for cover back in the direction where Harry was hiding, giving Snape time to get behind him

Snape was moving upward, towards Lucius's position when the rocks he was climbing over shifted, momentarily throwing him off balance as debris slid away from beneath his feet. Lucius took advantage of his foe's temporary helplessness and came out of cover to throw a curse. Snape dove for cover, but Harry heard him yell in pain. Swearing, he scrambled out from behind his shielding boulder and fired off a curse that hit Lucius in the shoulder and nearly sent him off the ridge. The man disappeared in a pile of rubble with a cry of pain.

Cautiously, Harry made his way down the hill, scuttling sideways like a crab towards the fallen Death Eater, and heard Snape coming toward him as well. He paused, leaning on an outcropping to try and see what condition the Potions Master was in, but then…

"Quassio!"

Harry lurched back as a curse was thrown at him from where Malfoy had been hiding. It missed, but struck the ground near enough to throw Harry off his feet and send him tumbling head over heels over the rough ground. He yelled, trying to curl up as rocks and tree roots jabbed into him, but then the back of his head slammed into something incredibly hard, and his vision erupted with light. When his senses returned, he was lying sprawled against the rocks, his head pounding.

"Harry? Harry!" A frightened voice called to him, but Harry was afraid he'd pass out or throw up if he tried to answer, so he just lay where he was until Snape reached him. "Damn it," the Potions Master muttered as he began incanting spells. "Can you answer me?"

"Yeah," Harry grunted, feeling the magic repairing the bones he'd broken. "I think…I'm okay." He let Snape help him into a sitting position, though his head protested mightily.

Snape examined the back of his head. "Concussion. Hold still…" he whispered a few more spells that made Harry's head swim badly for a few moments, but when the sensation left, he felt more alert. "Better?"

"Yeah," he took a shaky breath. "Did we lose him?"

"Probably," Snape growled. "Come. Let's get back to the others—" The sound of debris shifting above them made them both freeze where they were, then a rush of bitterly cold air, dry and dead, swept over them. "What the…"

At the top of the ridge, they could hear Lucius Malfoy laughing at them. "Good-bye, Severus! I suggest you and Potter say your farewells!"

"Dementors!" Harry hissed, and the two of them began scrambling over the rocks, trying to scale the ridge and warn the Order forces before the Dementors reached them.

Snape pulled him along when he tried to cast a Patronus. "You've had a head injury; you'll kill yourself!"

Neither of them dared a glance at the creatures they could feel approaching, but just as they scaled the top of the ridge and started back down, the world around them seemed to darken, and the black-cloaked beings appeared on the hillside, certain to cut them off. Harry heard Snape breathing fast beside him, and felt his own heart starting to pound as horror rose in his chest. People were shouting somewhere below them, but the Order forces were too far away.

"I have to try," he gasped, taking aim. Snape held him up, and he thought fiercely of the best thing he could think of: Voldemort was gone. The war was over. "EXPECTO PATRO—ah!"

Pain shot through his head, and his legs buckled, his weight pulling both him and Snape to the ground. Snape swore furiously and pulled Harry into his arms. "We're done for."

"Can't you…" Harry choked out, trying to keep his mind off the memories of his mother's screams and the light of the moon in Remus's eyes.

Obviously feeling the effects of the dementors as well, Snape shrank back with Harry against the rocks and said, "I have never been able to cast a Patronus."

"What? Oh…" Harry sighed and shivered, resting his head on Snape's shoulder like he sometimes did with Sirius. "Sorry…"

The dementors were close, Lucius Malfoy was laughing, and nightmarish memories were getting very loud in Harry's ears. He could hear Snape groaning as he tried to fight off whatever horrors the dementors were making him relive as well. Snape's hand suddenly brushed against something hard against Harry's chest. "What's…"

"Amulet," Harry mumbled, pulling it out. "Will it…work?"

"No," Snape replied, but kept his hand around it, as though it was a comfort to him.

That reminded Harry of something. "Saw Draco…after the fight…"

"What?" Snape sounded so surprised that Harry looked up at him; it was as if the effects of the advancing dementors had been pushed back from them a little.

"I saw him…he said…wanted me to tell you…you know…" Harry shuddered, trying to think of his parents and not the blood on the battlefield.

Snape was silent for several moments, but then, he pushed Harry to the ground, leaving the startled boy looking up at him as he aimed his wand at the dementors and roared, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Silver-white light erupted from the end of the Potions Master's wand, making Harry blink and clumsily try to shield his eyes. Snape stumbled back, as surprised as Harry was, and a dazzling figure formed from the light, coalescing above the ground to soar toward the dementors. A dragon.

The dementors reared back and fled as the enormous Patronus drove them back up the hill. Snape dropped to his knees next to Harry, who sat up and put a hand on his shoulder. When he looked at Harry, he was trembling, as both of them understood what they had seen. "You know my dad's Animagus form?" Harry asked. Snape didn't answer, but he said, "A stag. That's my Patronus." The Potions Master turned away.

Then above them, near the tunnel entrance where the dementors had gone, they heard screaming. "No! Begone! Expecto—no! You serve ME! You served the Dark Lord and obey his followers—get away—no!"

Harry stiffened, and Snape grabbed him. The screams of panic turned soon to torment, and Harry could see the dementors moving along the ridge after the desperately-fleeing figure of Lucius Malfoy. Snape reached out and gently-but-firmly turned Harry's face away, keeping an arm around his shoulders, but he couldn't have blocked out the screams even if he'd tried.

"NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO YOUR MASTER'S—GET AWAY FROM ME—NO, HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE—DOLOHOV! CRABBE, ANYONE! HELP ME! No! Oh no—" The cries became less coherent, and Snape's grip tightened on Harry, letting him know the dementors had caught their prey.

"NO! NO! DO NOT—HELP, STOP! STOP IT! DRACO! I—DIDN'T—NO—DRACO, NO—DRACO! DRACOOO!"

And then there was silence. The air gradually grew warmer, the sun came back out, and Harry knew they were gone.

With Snape's help, he got to his feet again, and they began moving back down the hill together. But then they heard a noise from above them, and whirled around. Snape threw Harry to the ground, drawing his wand, but a hex impacted near their feet, knocking the Potions Master dangerously off-balance. "Snape! Geddown!" Harry yelled, drawing his own wand again and trying to scramble up, but their assailant was too quick.

Another curse quickly followed the first, and Harry lurched back in horror as Snape took the full impact of the hex directly in the chest. The force threw him off the face of the ridge, sending him crashing down over the rocks and hard roots to disappear from Harry's view.

Another curse, this one sent in Harry's direction, had him scrambling back behind an outcropping. Hexes struck the rock around him, sending splinters flying in every direction. Disoriented, Harry still managed to raise a Shield, since it was less difficult than a Patronus, but more curses soon split the air from below him. Looking back, he saw Sirius tearing up the hill, throwing hexes one after the other at whoever had attacked his godson, and only a moment later, there was a shriek of surprise, and the curses stopped.

Harry scrambled from behind his shelter, unable to see who Sirius had taken out, but his concern now was to find Snape. Keeping behind whatever cover was available, Harry climbed, and sometimes slid, down the side of the ridge. At the base of the slide, a black figure lay prone among the rocks.

As Harry reached him, Sirius came slipping and sliding down after them. "Harry! What the hell – oh god, Snape!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Did you get them?" Harry asked urgently as he checked over the desperately hurt man on the ground in front of him.

Sirius nodded, but his face was grim. "We need a Healer here – now. Stay with him, and stay down. That tunnel's not secure yet; the Order's on its way up. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Harry nodded, and half-listened to the sound of Sirius moving away, his attention focused on Snape. He lifted the man's head gently, transfiguring one of the rocks into a rolled-up blanket which he placed beneath Snape's head. At the movement, Snape gave a deep groan and opened his eyes.

"Professor?" Harry said. "Can you hear me?"

The man's lips moved, edged with blood. Harry hissed in dismay and wiped at it with the sleeve of his robe. Snape wrenched his face away. "Gedoff."

"Let me help," Harry said urgently, examining his wounded teacher and running his mind through all the first aid spells that he knew. He started to incant one to stop internal bleeding, but Snape smacked his wand away. "What're you doing? Cut that out!"

"Just go," Snape groaned. At Harry's astonished expression, he repeated, "Leave me."

"Of course I'm not leaving you!" Harry exclaimed, appalled. "Now hold still!" He tried again to start with healing spells, but Snape shoved him away.

"I need no Gryffindor spawn to tend me!" Snape hissed at him. Harry hesitated, startled, and the Potions Master sneered. "Are you enjoying yourself, Potter? Forcing me to owe you another debt?"

"I already owe you too many to count," Harry mumbled, trying to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing, but this familiar and highly-unwelcome attitude was disturbing him. It was as if the dementors had come back. "I'm just trying to help."

"Bah!" Snape said derisively, trying to wriggle away from Harry. "You and your mongrel godfather would love nothing more than to save every life in the wizarding world between you! Arrogant, like your father. And pathetic, like your werewolf."

"STOP IT!" Harry yelled, grabbing his shoulders. The man winced, and he pulled back, shaken. "I'm sorry."

Snape spat at him. "You have no more use for me, Potter, and I no more for you. Have the decency to leave your Gryffindor bravado alone for once and give me peace. Let…me…die!"

"No!" Harry cried. It made him sick to think of it. Why was he doing this? Why did he want to die here, now, alone on a hillside? He'd finally conjured a Patronus; he must have had a good thought, a very good memory. Of Draco, no doubt. "I don't want you to die," he said quietly.

Snape snorted, then coughed. "What you want is unimportant. Besides, what use has the wizarding world for a Death Eater spy, now that they are vanquished?"

"You're on our side," Harry said.

"Nonsense, you stupid brat. I did what I had to for survival. Nothing more. Spare your pity and condescension for someone who deserves it. Leave me to my fate as Lucius met his."

"No!" Harry grabbed his shoulders and shook him. The man hissed in pain, but at least it stopped him talking. "You DON'T deserve to die like this! I get it now; I see what you're doing, and I'm not going to let you! You're NOT going to die alone!"

Then he let go and started incanting First Aid Spells as fast as he could, buying them enough time for Sirius to return with the Healers. Snape glared bitterly at him. "Bloody Gryffindor nobility. You never allow anyone any peace."

"Shut up," Harry snapped.

After the Healers arrived and Portkeyed the wounded-but-stabilized Potions Master to St. Mungo's—amid much abuse from said Potions Master—Sirius and Harry returned to the valley where the Order was gathered. "It's more or less secure," Sirius told him. "The dementors appear to have turned on their handlers; quite a few of the poor bastards got themselves kissed, including Lucius Malfoy, incidentally."

"Do they think anyone got away?" Hermione asked, sitting down on a rock next to Harry to examine the back of his head.

"A few, maybe," said Lee Jordan, coming out of the woods with Fred and Penelope Clearwater. "Not enough to cause any serious trouble; all the top blokes are accounted for."

"In Azkaban or the morgue; good riddance either way," said Ginny, pulling Fred down to sit next to her so she could look him over. Pausing with her arms draped around her brother's neck, she peered past him at Harry and said, "What was eating Snape back there? We heard him ranting and raving all the way down the creek!"

Ron saw the expression on Harry's face and said quickly, "Who knows. People get cross when they're hurt. Harry, did you see the McGonagalls down here earlier when that band of Death Eaters tried to put up a fight? Fantastic! I knew she was no slouch, and figured he wasn't, but bloody hell, they were spectacular! Just going round and round each other; the two of them and a couple Aurors against almost a dozen Death Eaters—they were all down in about three minutes!"

"Wow," said Harry, trying to muster enthusiasm. "What's going on in there now?"

"More searches, by the look of it," said Sirius, sitting down next to him. "They'll be going over the place with a fine-toothed comb for days."

"Are we finished here then?" Lee asked.

Sirius nodded. "They'll be running us off any minute, I'm sure—"

A commotion in the woods brought them all to their feet. "Now what?" exclaimed Ginny, as Fred stepped in front of her, and Sirius did likewise with Harry.

"Probably just some stragglers," said Ron.

A red-robed figure came scrambling and stumbling out of the trees. Hermione exclaimed in alarm, but the Auror wasn't wounded…just clumsy. Tonks, her eyes wild, so excited she couldn't even seem to place her feet, rushed toward them across the creek bed and slipped on a wet rock, winding up sprawled full-length in the water. "Bloody hell, woman!" Sirius exclaimed, storming toward her to help her right herself. "Some Auror you are!"

She shoved him away and scrambled upright, pointing wildly at Fred and Ginny, who stared back at her in confusion. "You—go—they—he—here! No, wait! OY! Here! Come on—out here!"

Before any of them could process the completely incoherent attempt at communication, more Aurors could be seen coming out of the trees, leading people who weren't in Order robes. "What's all this?" muttered Lee.

"I dunno, I…" Ginny trailed off as the figures came into view. Not Death Eaters, but in torn and dirty day robes, some moving slowly with the aid of Aurors, one disheveled figure staggering along with a heavy burden in his arms…

Harry's chest tightened, his mind trying to process what he was seeing, and then Fred let out a plaintive, inarticulate cry like a frightened animal and started forward, only to wind up falling to his knees after only a few steps.

Then Ginny screamed, Ron started to cry, and the two of them rushed forward behind Sirius, toward the decidedly-worse-for-wear Mundungus Fletcher, who was carrying the wounded but definitely-alive George Weasley in his arms.

"DUNG!" Sirius yelled, sounding as if he was crying too. "You wonderful ass! Here, let me," he reached the other wizard and held out his arms for George, but Dung pulled away.

"Uh-uh, I got him…where's…" his weary eyes fell on Fred, who was still sitting, shivering, on the ground, with Tonks and Hermione apparently holding him upright, and he made his way toward him.

"George, George," Ginny sobbed, reaching for her brother's face, but Mundungus kept going until he sank to his knees in front of Fred.

"Here you go, boy," he said, and shifted the semiconscious George into the arms of his twin.

George mumbled something none of them could make out and simply buried his face in Fred's arms, and Fred simply held onto his twin and shook. Ginny sat on one side of them, Ron on the other, each wrapping their arms around the twins and hugging them, weeping and laughing.

"Are you okay?" Ron demanded, wiping at his face. "What happened?"

George was propped up in Fred's arms with his siblings' assistance, but all he did was embrace Ginny, then Ron, and curl up in his twin's grasp again. The Healers soon arrived, shooing the hysterical Ron and Ginny aside so they could look George over.

"Nothing serious. Needs a good rest, food and water, but all things considered, he's a lucky lad. All of you!" exclaimed the Healer. "How on earth did you survive in that hellhole?"

Mundungus leaned heavily on a tree stump, brushing off Hermione's attempts to transfigure him a cushion. "Thought we were done for, I can tell you," he sighed, closing his eyes. "We mighta been too, if it weren't for this lot's ghostly brother."

Ron turned and stared at him, and even Fred looked away from George's face for a moment. "Percy?"

Mundungus nodded. "So that's where he got to," Ginny breathed.

"Thought the Order'd sent him," said Dung in surprise.

Ron shook his head. "He just took off. We figured he was just upset."

"Oh, he was upset all right," Mundungus snorted. "Didn't know that lad was such a good haunt; scared the wits out of the gits when he showed up. Took George awhile to realize who he was. Wouldn't let the nasty buggers near us once he got here."

"So where is he?" Ginny demanded, standing and looking around, her hands on her hips as if she expected Percy to come floating through the trees.

"Think they may have bound him," said one of the other former prisoners, an Auror. "We heard them doing the spell, and he didn't come back, but by then they were off to fight."

Ron grimaced. "Well, I haven't seen him at Hogwarts, so they must've bound him here. Can you tell the Order to look for him?" he asked Tonks.

"Don't fret, we'll find him." She jogged off, able to keep her feet under her now that the initial hysteria had passed.

The Healers soon took Fred and George back to Hogwarts, along with Dung and the other former prisoners. "I guess we ought to be heading back too," said Sirius.

"What about Percy?" asked Ron.

"They'll find him," said Hermione. "Don't worry. A bonding spell is pretty easy to release; he'll be back soon. They probably just shut him in a closet."

He and Hermione had already gone, but Harry and Ginny were hanging back to talk with Sirius when Tonks came out of the woods again. Her face was solemn. Moody and Smythe-Wellington, sitting on a fallen log together and apparently enjoying themselves far too much, noticed her. "Tonks?" Moody called to her.

With an awkward glance at them, she went to the old Auror and conferred quietly with him for a few moments. Moody's face too turned sober, and he looked past her at Harry and Ginny. "Something's up," Harry murmured. He took Ginny's hand.

Tonks came back over to them. "Why don't you two come back with me? The place's secure." They nodded and mutely followed her, with Sirius at their heels.

Tonks led them down into the gray building that had housed the Death Eaters' headquarters, with an array of tunnels below it not unlike the place Harry had been held prisoner in after his fifth year. Several Aurors paused from their work to look at Harry and Ginny as they passed, but apparently, their presence wasn't cause for concern. They followed Tonks down to a deep tunnel that contained several small, stuffy, enclosed rooms.

"This was where the prisoners were," Ginny observed, shivering.

Tonks nodded. "Yeah. And when we were looking for Percy," she brought them to a patch of tunnel near the larger branch, "we found this."

On the ground were several candles, melted where they'd been arranged in a circle, and the odor of burnt herbs and Potions hung in the air. Harry's heart began to sink as he recognized the remnants, and figured out what ritual they had been used for.

Ginny gave a soft moan, and Sirius put his arms around her. "Oh no."

"I'm sorry," Tonks whispered, tears in her eyes.

Ginny sank to her knees next to the candles and fingered the herbs, letting them crumble. "Banished," she whispered, examining one candle after another as if looking for a clue to where Percy had been sent.

Harry turned to Tonks and Sirius. "He's gone?" They nodded. "Completely gone? What happens when a ghost is…"

Sirius shook his head, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders as Tonks went to pull Ginny to her feet. "Nobody really knows. The prevailing opinion is that a Banishing Spell forces the ghost to go on, beyond…wherever he should have gone to begin with."

Ginny was standing again, leaning against Tonks, and she took several deep breaths with her eyes closed. "Then…he wasn't really…hurt or anything. And he's…where he belongs. Safe."

Tonks forced a smile and squeezed her hand. "It's a safe bet. And the spell wouldn't have hurt him."

Ginny opened her eyes and smiled back, wiping her face. "And he saved George. Again." Harry went to hug her, and she gratefully rested her head on his shoulder. "He did what he wanted, then. And if he's gone on…then he's okay. He's…free."

Snape survived, but many people said that the Potions Master was never the same after the end of the war. He was as caustic as ever in class—maybe more so—but it seemed as if the venom had gone out of the man, along with much of his energy.

The end of Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts was a bit different from most students' final years at the school, but everyone agreed, he and his classmates deserved it. Instead of taking N.E.W.T.s in all their excruciating and miserable glory, the seventh-years, with the blessing of Madam Bones and Headmistress McGonagall , sat special sessions with the regular testers, where they received "assessments" of their skill levels.

"We all got automatic 'O's' in Defense," Ron laughed one day when they were having tea with Hagrid. "I guess they figured fighting a battle against Voldemort was more than test enough!"

"They shoulda just given yeh 'O's' for everything," Hagrid said. "Yeh deserve it!"

"Well, that'd be a bit much, Hagrid," Hermione replied. "After all, they have to see if we're really capable in some of the less-defensive things, like Potions and Herbology."

"Yeh had Potions today, didn't yeh?"

Hermione nodded. "Honestly, Snape groused as if we were all getting automatic passes!"

"He's just sore because Neville passed," said Ron. It was true: under Hermione's tutelage, Neville had attempted to sit the N.E.W.T. session independently, although Snape had been quite determined in the end to scare him out of it. But Neville Longbottom had been quite a force to be reckoned with on the Godric's Hollow battlefield, and since then, Professor Snape had found his favorite prey was all but immune to intimidation.

And so, it hadn't been with flying colors, but Neville Longbottom had received a passing mark in Potions, sufficient for him to continue his Healer studies.

There was to be a special Quidditch tournament for anyone in the Houses who wanted to play a few days before the end of term. Ron was playing on the combined Gryffindor-Hufflepuff team. Harry was not.

"Are you sure, mate?" Ron asked him as they headed for the pitch.

"Pomfrey says I'm grounded because of the concussion," Harry said. "And even if I weren't…" he shrugged. "I guess I've just gone off it a bit."

Ginny, also playing, looked at him sympathetically. "I don't blame you for not wanting any more excitement. Look at it this way, Ron, all the talent scouts will be watching you instead of him."

Harry grinned. "And you get to ride my Firebolt," he added, passing the broomstick to his friend.

Ron took it reverently. "I'll take care of it. And what do you mean 'excitement?' You still signed up for the Auror Program!"

"By the time a few months have gone by, he'll be bored," Hermione said, running to join them. "We better hurry if we want good seats. Ron, I just saw Oliver Wood! He's here with a couple of Puddlemere's players!"

"Really? Great! Don't let him get away after the game before I have a chance to say hello," Ron insisted, and they promised.

"Good luck!" Harry and Hermione waved vigorously from the entrance to the pitch as Ron and Ginny took off with the rest of their team.

Hermione grinned at him. "Ever think that it suddenly feels like we're starting over?"

Laughing, Harry shook his head. "Yeah. I thought it was just me."

There was much excitement on the day the Hogwarts Express arrived, as students rushed around, embracing each other, saying their farewells, and reminiscing on what an incredible year it had been (in both the good ways and the bad ways.) In particular, the entire first-through-sixth-year population of Hogwarts seemed to want to say goodbye to Harry.

He finally got himself away from his classmates' attentions and slipped down to the dungeons. Blaise had told him that Snape wasn't planning to come to the platform with the teachers to say goodbyes, so Harry nervously went to find him.

The dungeons were full of boxes, and the house elves were hard at work. Harry was a little shaken when he found Snape's office half-empty, with the Potions Master apparently packing up all his belongings. "Sir?"

Snape glanced over his shoulder with a handful of jars, saw Harry, and turned around again, depositing them in another crate. "Have you forgotten how to knock, Potter?"

"Your door was open."

Snape ignored that. "What do you want?"

"I was wondering…" For heaven's sake, he had killed Voldemort; why was talking to Snape making him nervous after all this time? "I was wondering why you're…packing."

Still not looking at him, Snape replied, "I don't believe that's any of your business."

"I just wanted to know," Harry said, frustration burning inside him. Why was Snape still being this way?

After a few moments of Harry still standing in his doorway, Snape finally said, "I will not be the Potions instructor for Hogwarts next year. I have—at last—been granted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor over the protests of the Board of Governors, not to mention numerous parents."

Harry frowned, looking at the half-empty shelves on the walls. "Why would they protest?"

Snape finally looked at him, with a definite sneer on his face. "Surely your Gryffindor self-righteousness can figure that one out, Potter. I am a Death Eater, a former servant of evil, an irredeemable plague upon the world of decent men. I should by all rights be in Azkaban."

"But you came back to our side," Harry said, tired of Snape's games.

"That counts for little in the eyes of the general public," Snape replied, and turned away again.

"Oh." Harry fought the urge to sigh. It was clear that now that the war was over, Snape no longer saw any need for them to continue their alliance of the past two years, and was as harsh toward him as he had been in Harry's fifth year. "Well. I'm leaving on the Hogwarts Express soon, and…"

Snape snorted. "Returning with your godfather to that mansion of his, I suppose."

"Actually, he's getting rid of it now that the war's over. We've taken a cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole, near the Burrow. We wanted to be out in the country."

"Good for you. It sounds perfectly insipid."

This time, he did sigh. "Look…I just didn't want you to die. Not like that. Not alone."

"And what, pray tell, gave you the right to decide how I deserved to die?" Snape asked curtly.

"Never said I had the right," Harry replied. "But with all due respect, you were never the best judge of people either, sir. Least of all yourself." At Snape's startled reaction, he said, "You didn't deserve what you thought." Snape stared at him for a moment, his face expressionless, then turned back to his packing crates without a word. Frustrated, Harry finally blurted out, "Did any of us ever really matter to you, or was it just because you wanted to survive the war?"

Snape dropped a jar to shatter on the ground and turned to look at him, with the most awful smile Harry had ever seen. "Potter, I believe I can safely say that in all the years I have taught you, that must rank as the single most asinine question I have ever heard you utter."

Harry swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said tightly. "I guess it was. Well. In that case, thank you for saving my life, even though I know it wasn't my life that mattered to you." Snape didn't deny it. "And I'll say goodbye now."

"Thank god," Snape muttered, but swept out his arm and gave Harry a mocking bow. "Goodbye, Mr. Potter."

Fearing his emotions would get the better of him, Harry spun around and tore out of the office, down the hall to the stairs. However, he only made it up about three of them before he stopped, bent over with his arms wrapped around his stomach in sheer frustration. He stood like that for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath, and finally stared back over his shoulder at Snape's office door, his insides burning with hurt. He couldn't figure out why Snape could still manage to make him feel so miserable after all this time, after everything that had happened.

He stared at the door for a few moments longer until he realized, with a surge of disgust at himself, that he was hoping the Potions Master would come out after him. He sighed heavily, turned around—and found himself face-to-face with Snape.

Severus had a talent for stealth that all students were aware of but usually failed to take into account—as did Potter, which made it easy for the Potions Master to slip ahead of the boy on the stairs. On the other hand, it forced him to grab Potter, when the silly child leapt backward and shouted, to keep him from flying right off the stairs.

"What are you trying to do, give me another concussion?" the boy shrieked once he recovered his balance (and his wits.)

Snape opened his mouth, intending to make a snide remark on Harry Potter's awareness of his surroundings, but to his intense discomfiture, nothing came out. And it left them both with far too much time and silence to stare at each other. Severus had no idea how or why he had wound up going after Harry, but here they were, and for the life of him, he could not seem to come up with a plausible explanation.

Worse yet, Potter did. With a pinched, tense expression that Severus had seen him wearing quite often of late, the boy asked quietly, "If you didn't give a damn about me, why didn't you run from the Dementors? You'd have got away easily if you hadn't been dragging me along. The war was over; you didn't need me anymore." Drawing a shaky breath, regarding Severus with an unguarded gaze that affected the Potions Master far more than he would have imagined possible, he whispered, "Until you realized you could conjure a Patronus, there was nothing you could do to stop them. They'd have just killed you. Why didn't you let me die?"

In lieu of answering, Severus put a silent hand on the increasingly-distraught teenager's shoulder and guided him back into the office, closing the door behind them. Harry dropped onto a closed wooden crate and pressed his head into his knees. Severus, cursing himself for his own weakness even as the boy struggled against a complete loss of control, found a bottle of Calming Draught and handed it to him. "You know the reason."

"Then why are you…now, why are you…" Harry stared at him with confused, wounded green eyes, and forced Severus to turn away.

"Because I don't want to be hailed as a bloody hero by the great Harry Potter!" Severus snapped. The boy winced. More quietly, he went on, "My company will only cause you difficulty in the aftermath of the war, Potter. I did not exaggerate the public's…misgivings about me. Nor would I be so conceited as to claim they are wrong."

Harry stood up. "What happened to Draco wasn't your fault."

It was as if something exploded inside his chest; Severus found himself across the office in a flash, grabbing the boy by the arms and nearly knocking him backward over the crate. "Do NOT speak of him again, do you understand me?"

However fragile his emotions in other respects, Harry Potter had gained one strength after the defeat of the Dark Lord: physical intimidation no longer worked on him…to Snape's irritation. The boy stiffened only slightly in Snape's tight grip and remarked, "I always wondered if you'd wind up hitting me some day."

"I struck you in your sixth year, if you will recall," Severus replied curtly, releasing him and turning away to resume packing. He wanted Potter to leave again. He should never have gone after the stupid child. He still didn't know why he'd done it.

"That doesn't count," Harry said behind him. "You wouldn't have slapped me if I hadn't fainted. Oh, I know you enjoyed it," he added, as Severus turned back to argue the point. "But you wouldn't have done it if I hadn't given you the opportunity. At least not then." He folded his arms stubbornly and fixed Severus with a hard gaze that startled the Potions Master. The reticent boy who had been quietly wandering the halls of Hogwarts and sitting out Quidditch games and avoiding crowds at all costs had suddenly disappeared, replaced by a very determined young man. "And maybe you've forgotten, but I promised Draco I'd give you a message from him. I nearly died to give you that message, so I'll talk about him to you if I bloody well want to!" He didn't shout, but there was enough force behind his words that he didn't have to. Then he suddenly sighed, almost wilting, and the boy was back, quiet and sad. "I know what it's like, to…blame yourself."

Severus stood there, among his packing crates and ledgers, on a move to a position that would have given him nothing but elation a year ago, but now mattered next to nothing. The worst thing was that he could not contradict the upstart standing in front of him, even at Potter's most vulnerable. There was too much truth in the boy's words. Severus had seen it in his mind often enough.

"My decisions with regard to…my situation now…are not only due to Draco," he heard himself say. "My life has revolved around nothing but the war against Voldemort, Potter—far longer than you have been alive. Now that my duties in that respect are over, if I am entitled to anything, then I want peace. To be left alone. Entirely alone."

Harry actually shivered. "Why?" he whispered.

"Not everyone shares your desire for…companionship," Snape told him. That was, he supposed, the fundamental difference between them. For all that he and Potter had wound up with in common over the course of the war, there were some aspects of Severus Snape's life that a lonely, haunted, and still-innocent teenager could not begin to comprehend. Nor would it be any use to try and explain. To explain would open him to the child's understanding, and that was the last thing Severus wanted to happen.

Looking awkwardly away from him, Harry said, "Look…if that's really what you…want…" His face twisted as if the thought physically pained him. "Then I…I won't…bother you again." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Severus gritted his teeth and willed himself to stand still. "I just…after the fight with Malfoy, I didn't want you to…to die alone," he fixed an anxious gaze on Severus that reminded the older man far too much of Draco. "I could tell, you just…thought you deserved it, and you don't and…" he hastily looked away again.

"Harry." The boy looked at him and blinked, startled by the address. "I spent nearly five years in the Dark Lord's service before returning to Dumbledore. If you knew what I did during that time, you would not be so swift to excuse it, or to tell me that I deserve a kind fate."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe not. But the point is, I…I know what you did for a lot longer for our side. And I know what you did for me, for…all of us. You're not like him," he said softly. "You're not like Malfoy or Voldemort. And you'll never deserve to die like they did." At Snape's stunned expression, he said, "That was why you wanted me to leave, right? Voldemort died on the battlefield; the Death Eaters ran away. No one called him back. And Malfoy…" he swallowed, and went on, "You're not a monster. You didn't deserve what they got."

"Thank you for the assessment, Potter."

He meant it to be sarcastic. But somehow, it didn't come out that way.

"D'you still want me to go? I mean, and not come back?" Damn. He had that Draco look again. Harry Potter was Sirius Black's godson; Severus Snape had no right to claim a place in this boy's life. Virtual patron saint of the wizarding world, a former Death Eater wouldn't be thought fit to clean the boy's shoes.

Gathering his wits, Severus told Harry, "Our acquaintance has been unpleasant even in its best moments, Potter, and there were few of those. You no longer have need of a teacher in Potions or Occlumency at Hogwarts. Any continued…contact between us will expose us both to considerable difficulty." He steeled himself as the boy lowered his eyes. "Harry. You and your godfather are going to live next-door to your friends. You will soon be training as an Auror. The sooner you leave things associated with the war behind, the sooner you will recover." Harry cringed, and Severus drove the point home. "The staff here is well aware of the difficulties you have had since it ended. That is why you left the Quidditch game early and avoid public attention even more than you used to."

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I just don't like noise. It bothers me. Maybe it's my head," he said in a challenging tone.

"In a manner of speaking," Severus replied, and Harry glared at him.

"You've talked about nothing but me. I think I ought to decide what's best for me. I said I'd stay away if you wanted me to." He lifted his chin. "If you do."

Severus took a deep breath. "I would prefer it if you did." Harry made a valiant effort to hide his distress. "I will not continue to insult you by claiming no…concern for you. But I was being truthful: I am most content when left alone. And where Harry Potter goes, notoriety follows."

Harry choked out a laugh and looked away. "Well, I've got to put up with it."

"The public is more sympathetic to you than to me. They will abide by your wishes."

"Since when?" the boy demanded.

"You might try asking," Severus suggested. "I thank you for your concerns. But I would prefer the peace of an anonymous life."

The office was quiet but for the sounds of the boy's breathing, slow and deep as he struggled with his volatile emotions. Severus knew Minerva, Black, and the Weasleys were paying more than enough attention to Harry's mental well-being in the war's wake. They would see to the boy's needs. After a minute, Harry murmured, "Okay. If that's what you really want."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter."

But Harry finally fixed him with that determined, adult look again, and added, "But I owe you a lot, sir. And whether you want to be forgotten by everyone or not, I won't. I promise you that, whether you like it or not. You won't die like one of them."

Severus fought the urge to sigh. With luck, the demands of adult life and family would push the silly, almost Hufflepuff-ish loyalty out of the boy's mind in a few years. "As you will." He watched Harry go to the door, and forced himself to remain, standing stiffly, where he was.

"Goodbye, Mr. Potter."

"Goodbye, sir."

To be continued…

Coming soon: We fast-forward through time again, this time through years, as our heroes experience life after Hogwarts in the Interlude: The Everlasting Present!

Two chapters to go! DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!