Chapter 72 The Man in the Mirror

After Tonks and Remus left, Harry and Ginny were about to go get a butterbeer when they heard Arthur Weasley's voice. "Aah, you two were able to evade the crowd quicker than I was."

"Hi, Mr. Weasley."

"Hi, Dad," added Ginny, giving him a hug. "Harry and I were about to have a butterbeer. Shall I get you one, too?"

"Yes, dear, that would be very nice. I'm parched. It's been a very long couple of days."

After she left, Arthur continued. "Dumbledore's filled us all in on your escapade this past morning. When we heard that so many of you had gone missing after the battle, Molly and I were worried sick. We're so relieved that everyone came back safely."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I'm thrilled too, perhaps most because it's all over. Although I had really hoped I could heal him."

"I suppose it's proper that you feel that way, but I hope you understand that none of us are too fussed that he's dead. We've most all suffered terrible losses because of him. Erm, he is truly, finally dead, isn't he?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. I'll trust that you're certain about that. After what happened with him returning after the last time his body was destroyed, I'd like to be sure." said Arthur.

"I'm sure the aurors should be searching the Death Eaters' homes for objects like the Riddle diary to be extra sure of no unpleasant accidents. I'll be checking out the Chamber of Secrets for interesting magic and I'll watch for that sort of hazard."

"Hopefully you'll be better prepared for resisting it than you and Ginny were before. By the way, Harry, if there's any way I can help you out, let me know. It wouldn't even be pulling strings to get you a job in the Ministry. Every department wants you."

"Well, maybe in a few years I'll be ready to try for auror. I have a little experience in the field. Or maybe the Department of Mysteries, if I don't feel like fighting. For right now, I'm going to work here and get some additional training. Dumbledore wants to teach me some things. I'd be a fool to turn that down." Then Harry looked at him craftily and said, "By the way, now that you're officially the Minister of Magic, what should I call you – Lord Minister?"

Arthur laughed. "Oh, you know you can call me anything you like, Harry."

"Really?" said Harry, very earnestly, "because for some time now, I've been thinking how much I'd like to call Mrs. Weasley and you Mum and Dad – if you wouldn't mind. I've always wanted to be able to call someone that and, well, that's rather much how I've come to think of you. Ron and Ginny said they thought it was okay."

Arthur pursed his lips. "Harry, being called Dad has always meant far more to me than any other title I could have. To think that such a fine young man as yourself would choose to call me that – well, I'm overwhelmed - but of course, please do. Molly would be tickled by it as well."

"When I met my parents last night, …" Harry began.

Arthur gasped. "Harry, you don't mean to say that you actually met your parents, do you?"

Harry nodded. "It was while I was healing Madame Maxime. There was a lot of injury. I was very near to death myself. I have, erm, reasons to be confident I actually met them. For one thing they gave me advice that helped me figure out how to defeat Voldemort. Anyway, my Mum told me that there are people willing to love me like a son. And I thought of you and Mrs. Weasley. My Dad told me to let the people who love me do so. I haven't been doing that very well. I'd like to set things right."

"There's nothing to fix, Harry. For several years now, you've been like a son to us. You're welcome to call us parents. Come stay with us anytime – it's not a visit, it's coming home," said Arthur, giving Harry a hug.

"I like the sound of that," said Harry, " – 'coming home'."

Suddenly they were interrupted by Molly Weasley."Harry Potter! You've been leading my little lambs into danger again?" She was storming toward them with an expression Harry could not read.

Then she threw her arms around him and hugged with all her strength. "Aah, Harry, I'm so proud of you and all of you who've ended this once and for all. And you've found a power beyond anything any of us ever imagined – healing! Now, that is indeed special. Thank you so much for what you did for Ron I don't know if I could bear to lose him."

"Molly, dear, Harry here was just asking if he could call us Mum and Dad. I said you'd be tickled," said Arthur.

"Oh. Oh, of course!" Molly began to tear up and hugged Harry once again. "I'd been hoping for some time that you would. I knew though that you had a lot on your mind."

"It's more than I could tell you," said Harry. "I really thought that to destroy Voldemort's power, I would have to get myself killed. I was really rather disappointed when Mr. Wea, uh, er, Dad, refused to do it."

"What! Arthur, I didn't hear about this!"

"Oh, well, Molly, we might have discussed that in the Order meeting in August whilst you were making coffee."

"Well, why didn't you let me know? You certainly didn't give the notion any consideration, did you?"

"Erm, well, er, Molly, I had the whole wizarding world to think about, and …"

"Mum," said Harry, gently, "I made a very good case for it. Even Dumbledore was ready to let him do it – at least I think he was. There were a lot of lives at stake. By the way, the offer's off, Dad."

"I already figured that out, Harry," said Arthur with a smile.

Ginny came up handing Harry and her father each one of the butterbeers she was carrying.

Molly took the other one from her, "Thank you, dear." When Ginny started to open her mouth in protest, Molly stopped her and said, "Didn't I already see you with a butterbeer earlier – you're too young to be drinking more."

Harry winked and smiled at her. "I'll share, Ginny." He took a swig and handed the bottle to her. She sneered at her mother and pointedly took a large swallow, but it bubbled up into her nose, making her choke and sneeze. The others covered their mouths as they laughed.

"Mum, Dad," said Harry, "there is something I would like to talk with you about. I'm concerned about the responsibilities of this new power to heal I have."

"What do you mean, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, how much do you know about how the healing works?" responded Harry.

"Well, I saw you in the Hospital Wing last night, but you were so focused, we weren't even sure if you noticed us – oh, we all understood, don't worry. We saw you with Minerva McGonagall, but all we could really tell is that you concentrated very hard, then there was that green glow all over her, and your body got very tense, and after the longest 2 or 3 minutes ever, she was okay. Later last night, Ron said that you have to think very intensely about removing the person's injury to get the green glow in your eyes. Oh, he also said it seems to tire you out while it happens and if you need more strength, you draw it from others nearby," explained Mrs. Weasley.

And Arthur Weasley added, "Dumbledore was just telling me this evening it involves caring very deeply for the person you're healing, and taking the injury away, but then he got choked up and couldn't finish. Very odd that; he's usually so completely self-composed."

"That's mostly it. I have to find it in myself to love that person enough to desire that the injury become mine instead of the other person's, and that's what actually happens. When Tonks' leg and abdomen were being healed, my leg broke and my belly tore open. When I healed Ron, my chest was sliced and my skull split open, and with Professor McGonagall, I felt every stunner that hit her, every bit of the cruciatus curse inflicted. When I was healing Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, the pain was so intense I think I would have killed anyone if I thought it would make the pain stop: the only thing that got me through it without going insane as they did was the knowledge that it would soon end. Well, that and knowing I was bearing it for an excellent reason. I even felt the emotions each felt as they watched the other being tortured alternately." Harry closed his eyes and shuddered at the memory of that.

"If I hadn't been able to draw strength from others, I would have died when I tried to heal Madame Maxime from the killing curse. That ability to draw on others also saved me, of course, when Voldemort tried to kill me this morning. What I'm afraid of now is this: that some day my body will overrule my mind andsay 'no, I know this person is hurting terribly and will die, but I just don't want to hurt like that anymore, even for a little while. Let someone else hurt, not me.' My mind might say one thing, but the body could say the other, and someone could die because of that. I would be very sad and ashamed of myself if that happened."

Arthur shook his head sympathetically. "I hadn't realized what a precious price you were paying for what you did, Harry. You've done an awful lot already. Don't worry about the future. I'm sure that when you see a person in need, you won't have any hesitation. You never have before. Most people have no problem refusing to help. Muggles die every day because too few of them will bear the pain of a pinprick to donate a pint of blood – they don't have blood restorer potion, so they depend on the care of their neighbor to donate needed blood, and too often it's just not available. You already know that you would feel shame over acting like that. You just care too much to do otherwise. You'll find the strength and it'll see you through."

"You know, Harry," added Molly, "in some ways that's not so different from what women go through. Look at me – after every baby, I swore I'd never have another. But then, I'd forget the pain, remember the joy of each new person I had given life to, and, well, I just found it in me to keep going." She grabbed Ginny by the shoulders: "And aren't you glad I persisted! So you give life in your way, I gave life in mine. The pains you've had have been more intense, but trust me - the memory will fade soon enough, and when you're asked to give someone a chance to live, you'll rise to the occasion."

"I guess you're right. The memory of the pain is already getting a little dull. And one of the things I learned last night was the importance of mixing plenty of fun and joy in with the pain. One problem though is that I've spent so long obsessing about fighting, I'm rather rusty at knowing how to have fun - I think I'm going to see about finding someone who can be my happiness coach, someone to teach me to enjoy living."

Ginny responded immediately, squaring toward him, with feet set at shoulder width and fists on her hips. "Well, if you don't have me in mind for that job, Harry Potter, you're going to be reminded what pain is like!"

Harry laughed; he held her head with both hands and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry, you fiery redhead – you're exactly who I had in mind."

"Good choice, Harry," said Arthur, placing an arm around Molly and drawing her close. "She's very much her mother's daughter, and Molly's never failed to bring joy into my life, not once."

Molly giggled and hugged Arthur back.

Harry smiled. "Mmm. I wish we had some music: I'd really like to dance with you, Ginny. It's time to start enjoying."

"Oh, Harry, I'd love that. Dad, can you conjure something?" Ginny asked.

Before Arthur could answer, music filled the entry hall – it was haunting, tender, joyous, calming and invigorating at the same time.

"What is that music?" said Ginny.

"This is phoenixsong," said Harry.

Ginny sighed contentedly. "It makes me feel almost as good as Harry's kisses."

"Almost?" asked Molly. "This is heavenly, and if it's only second-best, then you really are in trouble, sweetheart. But it's wonderful trouble to be in with the right man." Then she added, "I know," and hugged up again to Arthur.

Harry looked around the Hall. "Fawkes must have heard my wish for music. Dumbledore always says that music is one of the most wondrous and powerful forms of magic. I can't tell you how phoenixsong has carried me over the worst of times." He breathed deep, like he was smelling the first warm day of spring. "It's just as magical in happy times. Ginny, let's dance."

"Well, if we don't dance together, I'll be dancing all alone. I wouldn't be able to stop myself."

Harry took her by the hand and they stepped out to an open area. Then they held each other, with Ginny's head against Harry's chest, and his cheek against the top of her head, and they began dancing closely and tenderly. After watching for a minute, Arthur and Molly too began to dance. Other couples soon joined them; then others and still others.

At some point Harry became aware of Professor Dumbledore trying to catch his attention. Harry glanced up and saw that Dumbledore had brought the Mirror of Erised into the Hall and was nodding his head sideways toward it. Harry didn't want to interrupt his dance with Ginny, so he very gradually led that direction. As he looked at first, at an angle, all he could see is the reflection of the others dancing in the Hall. Then as he got closer, he saw his mother and father dancing just as he and Ginny were.

"That's nice," thought Harry, "but was that really that important? The only real surprise there is that I don't feel so fascinated at seeing my parents as I used to."

Then Harry looked in the mirror again, and the light was now right for him to notice that the man in the mirror had green eyes. It wasn't James Potter: it was Harry. And the witch in the mirror had red hair that was too bright for her to be Lily Potter: it was Ginny. He saw nothing that wasn't as it really was in the Hall.

"Harry?" said Ginny. "You seem distracted. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing at all, Ginny. I was just realizing that right now, being in this place, with the war finally over, surrounded by all these good people, and most importantly, holding you close in my arms, there is not a happier man in the entire world."

"Oh! Well, you just keep holding that thought."

"And you?"

"What?"

"I told you how I was feeling. How about you?"

She smiled and nuzzled her face even closer to his chest. "I feel the same, and I'm thinking of ways we can be happier still."

"Right, then. You're the coach."

"And don't you forget it."

Harry then realized that he didn't need to be so intense, the habit of years under attack. Without the war, there really shouldn't be that many times when he would be called on to heal someone injured beyond the healers' abilities. He'd take it as it came. For now, there was no mad sociopath trying to murder him, he had people that loved him and that he loved, he had interesting and fun work to do for several years at least, and right this moment he had in his arms a beautiful and delightful witch, whose hair smelled of - he sniffed, okay, well, battle sweat and lake water - but she was holding him and he was holding her, and they both cared very much for each other. For right now there was nothing to worry about. It was time to really start living.