Harry opened his eyes groggily. It had felt so good to sleep in a real bed for an entire, uninterrupted, night. He looked around the large room without much interest. He was just starting to sit up when a thin woman walked over. She looked at him severely and Harry fell back into the pillows, not wanting to attract attention. Surely there were rules against sneaking into the hospital wing for a night's rest. Unfortunately, the young woman had seen Harry and started to walk over to him. She glided smoothly over the floor and her young face looked innocent and caring, but her eyes were full of an imperious glare that stripped all pretences of her being easy to get along with. "First of all," she began, wagging her finger in his face. Her voice concluded Harry's thought that she was one to give orders, not take them. She had a no-nonsense tone that would obviously leave no room for argument or negotiating. "These beds are for admitted patients only. You cannot walk in here in the middle of the night and sleep in a bed! That is strictly prohibited! Second of all, you are going nowhere." The last part was said in a tone much more expected from a nurse. The first had sounded more like a teacher chastising an impudent student. Without waiting for a response from him, she picked up Harry's wrist. He limply let her check his pulse. Who was she?

"Who are you?" he asked the nurse as she began pouring potions into several goblets. Harry doubted he would ever understand the purpose of having so many potions. After all, he wasn't dying! He was just dirty and tired.

The door to the hospital wing was thrown open and in walked a woman with black hair and gray eyes. Her gold-rimmed glasses sparkled in the morning sunlight. Harry looked at the woman in confusion. It was like he woke up in a separate world. So far, he had seen two people of obvious importance, and he didn't know either one. The straight-backed woman strode to Harry's bed and looked down at the young man. Harry looked into her eyes and a pang of despair rose in his heart. There was no friendly twinkle in these eyes as there had been in Dumbledore's. He had been hoping that whoever she was would show the same kindness Dumbledore had shown when Harry woke up in the hospital wing. "Who are you?" she demanded sharply.

Harry, not one to readily give his identity away, fired the question right back. "Give me your name, and I might give you mine." The tall woman looked at him in clear vexation. She had other things to attend to.

"I'm Rashida Carpedium, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And you are?"

Harry bit back a cry of alarm as her title sunk in. Apparently, McGonagal hadn't survived The Battle to run the school a second year. Harry's mind turned this piece of information around quickly. Who could say whether or not this woman could be trusted. Maybe that was why Ron and Hermione were here, along with Roger. Maybe they were undercover, attempting to take this woman out. Maybe she was a Death Eater looking for Harry, wanting to take revenge for her dead master. Deciding that he could always tell her his real name later, Harry lied. "Neville Longbottom," he said, still looking her in the eye, searching for a hint of who she really was.

"Impossible," she replied easily. "I personally attended the poor boy's funeral. I was a friend of his parents," she said. Harry couldn't help but open his eyes in shock. Neville dead? "Indeed. I'm sorry if he was a friend of yours. Although, if he were a friend of yours, I doubt you'd try to pass as him," she continued almost to herself.

Harry's mind raced. Should he tell this woman who he was, or should he lie again? Deciding upon the latter, he replied, "Stanley Shunpike." Rashida glared at him, as if hoping she would be able to tell if he were lying or not. Harry stared back defiantly, daring her to call his bluff.

Satisfied, Rashida moved on to her next question. "What are you doing in my school?" She crossed her arms across her chest and looked at him expectantly. Harry noted that she apparently didn't think he was a threat. With her arms crossed like that, it would take her nearly three times as long to get her wand ready.

"Because I wanted to learn," he answered lamely, at a loss for a better excuse.

"Try again, Mr. Shunpike," the professor said, tapping her foot impatiently. This interview was taking much more time than she had. This young intruder refused to give her a good answer first, something that was starting to greatly irk her.

"I needed someplace to go, my family is all dead," Harry said, deciding that a half-truth would be okay this time. Rashida's face instantly softened and she looked at him sorrowfully. Harry was surprised by the sudden transformation.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Stanley. No doubt they were killed by Death Eaters?" she asked sympathetically.

"You could say that," Harry replied vaguely. Voldemort could be considered the head Death Eater, he supposed.

"Do you have any siblings?" Rashida asked.

"No, I'm an only child," Harry said with a small shrug.

"Where do you plan on staying?"

"My godfather left me a house," Harry said truthfully. "I'm eighteen now, I can take care of myself." The last thing he wanted was charity from some stranger.

"So why Hogwarts? Why not your new home?" Rashida asked, her suspicious glare returning abruptly.

Too late, Harry noticed the mistake he had made. "Because I wanted to talk to my friends."

"Stanley, we have rules!" Rashida exclaimed. "You can't just waltz in here! Especially if you want to stay overnight, the hospital beds are for patients only."

"Professor," the nurse broke in. Harry jumped. He had forgotten the woman was still here.

"Yes Nakita?" Rashida asked, sighing. She did not appreciate being interrupted. When the young blonde seemed to hesitate at Rashida's formidable frown, the older woman softened her expression and tried to wait patiently.

"Mr. …Shunpike is now a patient of mine," the young woman said uncertainly. Her healer instincts wouldn't allow her to let this man leave her ward until she was sure of his health, both emotionally and physically.

"Yes, yes…but he still needs to understand the concept of rules," Rashida said. She turned back to Harry, ready to return to interrogating this trespasser.

The door into the ward opened a second time and Rashida rolled her eyes. Clearly, she was getting annoyed at being interrupted. "What do you want?" she asked as she whirled around. "Oh! Minister! Can I do something for you?" Harry looked curiously at the man who had just entered. He didn't recognize the man as Scrimgeour. Harry helplessly thought, perhaps Rufus had been killed as well. Who was left alive these days? Harry wanted to ask.

"Yes, you can. The Wizengamot decided to award Harry Potter the Order of Merlin, First Class. We thought that it would be most appropriate if the ceremony were held at Hogwarts, as he was a recent graduate," the man said. Harry tried not to look surprised at this. He wasn't supposed to be Harry Potter at this moment.

Rashida sighed heavily. "How many extra people will be coming?" she asked, mentally going through the extra security measures.

"The Weaselys, the Wizengamot, and anyone else Mr. Potter was particularly close to," he replied.

"And how do you suppose we go about finding people he was close to?" Rashida proposed. Harry had had no family left after all. His uncle had denounced his relation to the boy after 'Harry's lot' had murdered his wife.

"We'll ask the Weaselys. After all, he was a very good friend of the youngest boy…Robert or something," the minister said as if it were obvious.

"Ronald," Harry automatically corrected. The minister looked at the young man lying before him, his gray eyes taking in the boy's rugged appearance and a look of pity crossed his eyes.

"Yes, that's it. He was a friend of yours I suppose?" the minister asked, looking more closely at Harry's various wounds which the nurse had cleaned while Harry slept. Harry reached up and tried to flatten his hair against his forehead, but quickly stopped. His face was covered with enough scars; no one would notice a small one in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Er, sort of," Harry said, thinking about the way Ron had looked at him the night before. Ron had been noticeably suspicious of Harry's identity, and he hadn't exactly been thrilled at Harry's return.

"Were you friends with Harry Potter as well?" the man prompted.

"You could say that," Harry shrugged.

"Well, you're welcome to attend the festivities. Who do you think Harry would like to accept the award for him?"

"No one," Harry said immediately.

"Someone has to accept the award!" the minister said, appalled by the thought of no one accepting the prestigious award.

"I don't think I-he would like to have the award at all," Harry said, nearly forgetting to talk about himself in the third person. When he had been a student, Harry would have gladly accepted the award, glad that he had finally proved himself worthy of the wizarding world's respect, but now he thought differently. The war had changed him; there was no doubt.

"Mr.-"

"Shunpike," Rashida offered without taking her eyes off of Harry. There was something about the boy, something he wasn't saying, and she was going to figure out what it was.

"Mr. Shunpike, what gives you the preposterous idea that Mr. Potter would not want the Order of Merlin… First Class? After all the bravery he exhibited in ridding our world of he-who-must-not-be-named, he deserves this award above anyone else who has every received the honor!"

"For Merlin's sake, say Voldemort's name!" Harry cried. Why won't people say his name already? The minister twitched violently at the name, causing his hat to fall askew. He reached up to straighten it and Harry rolled his eyes. Apparently old habits die slowly.

"So Mr. Shunpike, what gives you the authority to strip the honor from Harry Potter? He clearly earned it. It is the least the wizarding world can do for him. Perhaps we shall also erect a statue or give him a monetary prize as well…" the minister continued to himself.

"I JUST WANT TO BE A NORMAL MAN!" Harry exploded. The three people clustered around Harry's bed jerked in surprise. Rashida yelped and jumped, the nurse dropped the goblet of potion she had been holding, and the minister's jaw dropped and his hat fell askew once again. The nurse waved her wand and cleaned up the spilt potion.

"Y-Y-You're Harry Potter?" the minister asked, stuttering at his luck. Harry was nauseated by the man's similarity to Fudge.

"You lied to me?" Rashida asked. "At this time when security is of the utmost importance and you lied about who you are…to me?" She stared at the young man in open disbelief.

The nurse shook her head in amazement and handed Harry a fresh goblet of potion. "Drink this Mr. Potter," she said quietly.

Harry rolled his eyes and took the potion from the nurse's hand. "And if I am?" he countered, knowing that he couldn't deny who he was now.

"You can't refuse the Order of Merlin. It simply isn't done!" the minister spluttered. "Rashida, I propose we hold the ceremony as soon as possible. We can use the event to announce our hero's return as well," he said happily, his mind already planning his triumphant speech telling the wizarding world of how he had found the missing hero.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but a yawn came out instead. "Now, I do believe you two can finish your planning in your office, Rashida," the nurse said suggestively. Rashida looked at Harry's drooping eyes and nodded her head curtly. She wanted to talk to this fabled boy more, but now wasn't the time. She turned around abruptly and walked out of the hospital ward with the minister close on her heels.

Harry watched them go drowsily. "I refuse the Order of Merlin," he said sluggishly, the sleeping draught taking effect. He yawned again. When his mouth shut, a slight grimace covered his face. "So much for being normal after fulfilling the proph-" he said sadly. The potion took full effect and Harry fell into a deep sleep before he could finish his sentence.

Author's Note: Hey everybody. Sorry about the wait! So how was the length of the chapter, what did you think? Oh, quick fyi- my writing time is being severly cut down because of circumstances beyond my control, so updates will not be frequent. I will not even pretend to think that I can get them out as often as I used to, sorry.

Response to Reviews: Wow, thirteen seems to be the number. Once again, I got thirteen reviews. And yet, somehow they're different people each time…I think. How strange.

Anonymous Reviews: Two this time.

Kenneth- glad to hear you're still reading! And don't worry, I have a few more surprises up my sleeve cackle haha.

Emily- glad you like my story! I know, not many people like Harry being ugly, I'm sorry…