He was dancing under the stars, spinning around on the dancefloor, and laughing all the while without a care in the world.
The instruments strummed a merry tune, and all around him were faces he knew – there was Arcturus and Melania, Andromeda and Ted, Sirius and Amelia, Daphne and Neville, Hermione and Tracey – he was surrounded by those he loved most of all, and he couldn't be happier for it.
Just beneath the highest point of the large, canvas tent, Clara glided around in lazy loops, her long, flaming tailfeathers leaving the most beautiful pattern behind her in the cool air, while the sconces of Magefyre flickered merrily to the tune of the music.
He looked back to his dancing partner and grinned up at his mother. She had the light dusting of freckles over her nose that he had memorised, and her emerald eyes danced in the low light. She held his left hand gently, and her right was perched carefully on his shoulder as she laughed.
It was a rich sound, something that set him immediately at ease and washed away his fears and anxiety as they spun to the music. Her dress, a rich crimson dress that matched the colour of her hair flowed this way and that with each turn.
A sense of peace, of true belonging, drifted over him, almost like a thick blanket. It was everything he could have wished for – here, in his mother's arms, there were no dark wizards, no Basilisk, no Mountain Trolls, and no harsh whispers and angry stares. He was where he belonged.
The music came to a stop, and the two of them wandered from the dancefloor with their arms entwined – they didn't meander over to his father, who, when he glanced in his direction, was having the time of his life with Remus, the two men laughing and joking about something or another.
"Let's take a walk." Lily suggested, gently pulling him in the direction of Blackwall's large flower garden. "I want you to tell me all about school."
"But I've already told you everything." Harry replied, frowning. The gravel crunched beneath his boots, and his hair danced about his face as he turned to look at the woman that had given birth to him. "I don't know what else to tell you."
Lily hummed as her lips twisted into a playful smirk as she peered down at him. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that. I'm sure there's all sorts you haven't told me yet."
"There isn't much." He shrugged as they began walking the path between the rose bushes. Even in the moonlight, he could clearly see the beautiful petals in all their resplendent colour, almost glowing in their own way. There were the reds of all shades, and the pinks, which he knew were Lipsy's favourite, but there were also the white ones – the ones he had always thought were the prettiest of the lot.
He stopped by a bush, gently retracting his arm from his mother as he knelt and picked two stems from the bush, cutting the stalks with his wand just how Neville had shown him. The first he handed to Lily, who grinned down at him with that smile of hers that always made her nose crinkle just the tiniest bit, and the second he kept in his hand, pinching it delicately between his fingers so as to avoid the thorns.
"Which of the House Elves is it that I'll have to thank for such a beautiful gift from my son?" Lily asked, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they resumed their walk.
"Goldy." Harry snorted, thinking of the kindly Elf. "The Elfroot is his pride and joy – I think he might even start letting Neville help him out when he visits."
"He's getting to be quite the little gardener, isn't he?"
"Who, Neville?"
Lily nodded, and Harry couldn't help but snicker. Harry loved Neville – dearly – but if there was one word he wouldn't use to describe the Longbottom heir, it was little. "It's so nice to hear he's doing something he loves." Lily smiled, squeezing him into her side for a moment.
"Pretty sure he's Professor Sprout's favourite student – I couldn't re-pot anything to save my life."
"Oh, I'm sure you're doing just fine." Lily chuckled. She leaned down and added, "I was never much good at Herbology either." She whispered, and the two of them grinned at one another.
"I've missed you, Mum." He sighed eventually, leaning into her. The two of them came to a stop and sat on a nearby stone bench – one of many that dotted the gardens.
"I've missed you too, love." She smiled sadly, threading her fingers through his hair as she pushed it back from his face. He glanced up at her and watched her studying his face – her eyes darted from his jaw, to his lips, to his nose, and up to the faint scar that marked his forehead. "You look just like he did, at your age."
"Dad?"
She nodded as her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers. "I'm so, so very proud of you, Harry." She murmured, quickly pulling him into a powerful embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and returned the squeeze for all he was worth. "So very proud." She whispered into his hair, pressing a kiss to it a moment later. He felt her breathe in deeply as her fingers threaded the hair on the back of his head.
Her nails scratched pleasantly along his scalp, and he found the tension leaving his muscles as he sagged against her. He wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point he'd began sobbing against her shoulder – she made soft noises into his hair as she rocked the two of them back and forth on the bench.
Eventually, he sniffed and pulled away, wiping away his tears with the heels of his hands as he cleared his throat. He toed the gravel as he stared at it quietly. Above them, there were the gentle flaps of wings in the air as bats and other nocturnal animals fluttered about their lives. Lily idly wrapped locks of his hair around her fingers at the nape of his neck – she didn't pressure him to say anything, instead, simply content to let him take his time.
He cleared his throat and leaned into his mother, her arm squeezing his shoulder. "It's been hard." He admitted after a moment of silence. His breath left him shakily, and for a moment, he thought he was going to be reduced to tears once again. "Ever since the end of last year, I've just been so tired."
"You've gone through more than anyone could have expected of you, Harry." She whispered to him softly. He breathed deeply, and for the briefest of moments, all he could smell was his mother's sweet shampoo and floral perfume as she placed her chin atop his head. "I'm so sorry."
"Why are you apologising? You've not done anything wrong." He murmured quietly between sniffs.
"I haven't been there, though, have I?" She sighed, leaning back to look at him. He glanced at her through his eyelashes, and his heart lurched painfully at the tear tracks on her cheeks. "Oh, my sweet, sweet boy." She whispered, her bottom lip trembling violently. "Look at you – you're all grown up."
"Not quite." Harry shrugged. "I'm only twelve – nearly thirteen."
"You're far more mature and responsible than either of your parents at your age. The things you've suffered – no child should go through that."
Harry shrugged and looked back at the ground. "It's fine." He muttered quietly. Behind him, within the thorned, tangled masses of the rose bushes, crickets chirped softly into the night – little glow bugs danced in the air above him.
"It's not fine, Harry." Lily sighed, smiling softly when he turned to look at her. "If you only had your father and I; if only we hadn't-"
"Died?" He asked quietly, pressing his lips tightly together. "You gave your lives for me."
His mother sat there, her eyes sparkling in the low light of the night, and her free hand dabbed at her wet cheeks as she laughed humourlessly. "You are the most important thing to your father and I, Harry." She said, cupping his face with her hands. He nodded mutely, his throat tightening uncomfortably. "We gave our lives for you, so that you could have a happy and free life – do you understand me?"
"I-"
"You were raised in the best way possible by Sirius, Remus, and Arcturus, and they all love you dearly, but you aren't free." Lily said sadly, tracing the pads of her thumbs over his cheekbones softly. "You have more on your shoulders than you even know – let go, Harry. Be a child."
"But the family-" He began, looking back towards the faint glow of the tent in the distance.
"It'll still be there when you come of age. If I could, I'd scoop you up and run away with you – just you, me, and your father."
"That sounds nice." Harry smiled sadly, sniffing as his feet swung back and forth idly. "I think I'd like that."
"So would we." Lily smiled, taking his hands in her own. He watched as her thumbs tracked back and forth along his wrist. "Where would you like to go?" She whispered, nudging his shoulder with her own.
He pursed his lips as he smiled. "I've always wanted to visit America – see the famous cities there, visit Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, you know." He shrugged. "What about you?"
"Rome." His mother smiled, staring off into the distance. "Your father and I went there for our honeymoon."
"Then we'll go there." Harry nodded firmly, squeezing her hands. "How long will we be staying?"
"Oh, I'm not sure – how about for as long as we like, hm?" She asked, scrunching her nose at him as she pulled him close to her. "During the day, we'll wander around. Take in the sights, visit the magical districts; in the evenings, we'll spend time together wherever we stay and eat pizza."
"Pizza?" He asked, frowning. "What's that?"
"What's pizza?" Lily gasped, holding her hand to her chest before gently tugging on one of the strands of hair that framed his face. "Only the greatest thing to come out of Italy – it's a special, thin dough base, with tomato and cheese on top, and you can put whatever you'd like on top of it. Your Dad always liked pepperoni best."
"It sounds nice." He hummed, trying to picture it in his head. "Where's your favourite place?"
"The Colosseum." She answered him. "So much history – we've lost more than we've ever learned, I think. So much to learn about where we came from and the people who came before us."
"I've been reading about all the Potters that came before me." He said slowly, looking up at her. "There's a lot."
"I imagine there is." His mother chuckled, the corners of her eyes crinkling and her eyes dancing in the moonlight. He wanted to memorise the sound, and every last little detail he could see – it was everything he could have wanted, sitting there, listening to her laugh. "Don't forget to decide who you want to be, Harry."
"I'm me." He frowned, confused. She smiled softly at him and patted his knee.
"You most certainly are and let nobody tell you otherwise." She said. "All I ask, is that you pull your nose out of a book about long-dead men and women every now and then and look at the world around you."
"I do look at the world around me." He answered, slowly. "I'm confused."
"You'll understand, in time." Lily chuckled, slowly getting to her feet, and holding her hand out to him. He took it without hesitating, and quickly fell into step alongside her. "Now," She began, arching an eyebrow at him and levelling him with a look. "Why don't you tell me about all of this business with a Basilisk."
He winced and found his shoulders creeping up involuntarily. "Who told you about that?" He asked sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"I have my ways, young man." She answered him with a huff. "Why did you run off into that chamber?"
"Someone was in trouble, and I needed to do something." He muttered, kicking a small stone with the toe of his boot. "I couldn't just let someone stay down there – not to mention Hermione-"
"Ah yes, that delightful young girl." Lily grinned down at him. "I think I've grown quite fond of her."
"I think you'd like her." He shrugged. "Muggle-born, like you. Smartest person I know." He added with a smile.
"And sensible – something you need to try to emulate, I think." Lily sniffed, looking back along the path, her rose held daintily in her hand as she breathed it in. "Honestly, fighting a Basilisk, of all things." She muttered, rolling her eyes.
"I didn't mean to fight her." He winced. "I know what I said, after Hermione got, well, you know."
Lily nodded slowly.
"I wanted to – to start with, but really… it wasn't her fault. Besides, I'm only, well, me." He shrugged his shoulders as their joined hands swung back and forth slowly between them. "I'd have been dead if not for Clara – and Tom's ego."
"Let that be a lesson to you then, Harry." His mother said gently, squeezing his hand for a moment. "Even if you think you can help – sometimes it's best to let the adults handle it."
"But Ginny would-"
"Possibly. But, to me, and to your father, you are far more important." Lily said, and the declaration made his stomach lurch uncomfortably. "That isn't to say we wouldn't care if something happened to someone else, but as your parents, we care about your well-being far more – do you understand me?"
He nodded and swallowed thickly. "I think so."
"Good – ah, it seems we're right where we need to be." She sighed sadly, and Harry frowned as he looked at her. He saw nothing – only the long path they were still walking from the house; he recognised it, even. They were only a two-minute walk from the Whomping Willow that Goldy had planted for Arcturus's father, and that wasn't at all far from where they had first played with Daphne.
"What do you mean?"
His mother said nothing, choosing instead to turn to face him slowly – her eyes were leaking tears again, and she was furiously chewing on the inside of her cheek. She pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around his shoulders fiercely as she sobbed into his hair, peppering his head with kisses.
He was confused but held on for dear life. Her dress balled in his fists on her back, and her long hair tickled at his nose. She leaned back, and Harry blinked up at her, their green eyes locking in the darkness of the night as she smiled sadly at him. She cupped his face again, her thumbs tracing over his cheekbones, and raked her eyes over it – Harry watched as her brow furrowed and her lips moved silently, as if she were committing something to memory. She looked a little how he imagined he did when he was studying for his exams or writing an essay.
"Mum?" He asked at last, his voice not at all as steady as he'd have liked. She pulled him sharply forward and pressed a long kiss to his forehead, right where he knew his scar lay.
"You be brave, and you be fierce, Harry – do you understand me?" She said looking at him with a fierceness he had never seen before. He nodded mutely, his hair bouncing around his face. "You are my little boy, and you are so loved." She sniffed; her voice muffled by his hair. Her voice became more and more of a whisper, carried away on the wind no matter how desperately he tried to hold onto it. "Momma loves you – Dada loves you. Harry, be safe, be strong."
"No," He muttered, feeling the world disappear around him. "No, don't go." He croaked. "Stay with me, please!" He shouted, pleading, begging. "Mum!"
"Mum!" He yelled again as his eyes snapped open and he darted up from the bed, his chest heaving as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. His eyes darted this way and that, taking in his surroundings – he was in the Hospital at Hogwarts, still dressed in his armour, covered in grime, blood, and all sorts of disgusting things.
He rolled out of the bed and crashed to the floor with a grunt and clang of his armour. He groaned, staring up at the ceiling as he writhed and twitched on the floor; his feet and hands scrambled for something to hold on to, anything to help pull himself up.
Moments later, a pair of large, hazel eyes and a familiar face rushed into his vision; her eyes were bloodshot and lined with dark circles. Her lips were tightly pressed together though her bottom lip trembled something fierce. Her hands were cool as they pressed against his face, and moments later, he was back on the bed, the familiar dark curls of Andromeda dancing about at his side as the woman fussed over him.
"Oh, Harry." She sniffed, dabbing at his brow with a damp cloth, sweeping away what strands of hair had gotten loose and plastered themselves there in grime, sweat, and blood. "Whatever are we going to do with you?" She asked, a pair of wet tracks running down her cheeks.
"Mum." He moaned as his body continued to tremble. "Saw, mum."
"Shh," Andromeda whispered, chewing on her lip as more tears tracked down her face. "It's alright, Harry. You're safe now."
When he next awoke, his limbs had stopped their trembling and he didn't feel the same wild panic he had felt the last time he had awoken. In the back of his mind, his mother's words echoed around his skull – her voice was strong, determined, but whispered just on the edge of hearing. He thought he could hear other sounds – like laughter, cold and malicious, but it could have just as easily been his imagination.
He blinked up at the high vaulted ceiling and lifted his head slowly. There, with his head on the bed next to his thighs, was Sirius, quietly dozing as the early morning light filtered through the large windows of the hospital. He grimaced, shifting in the bed slightly – he was still dressed in his armour, though the gorget had thankfully been removed.
It lay in two pieces on a chair to his right, blackened and charred with a large crack running down the front half. It was ruined.
Sirius stirred as he shifted, and his eyes blinked at him tiredly before snapping into focus. The man didn't waste a second before launching himself at him, peppering his hairline with kisses as tears streamed down his cheeks as his calloused hands tracked the contours of his face.
"Hey, Padfoot." Harry groaned, sinking into the pillows with a sigh.
"Don't you ever, ever scare me like that again, Harry – do you understand me?" Sirius whispered into his hair, pulling away to stare down at him, his mouth twitching in the corners. Tears leaked down his cheeks in steady streams and he sniffed wetly.
"I won't." He winced, moving a shoulder tenderly. "I learned my lesson." He muttered. "I'm sorry I worried you and broke my promise."
"You did it for a good reason, I suppose – but don't mistake me, Harry; I'm furious. I'm just happy to see you're alright."
"What happened? Where's Clara? Is Ginny alright?" He asked, sitting up in the bed with a grimace – the leather of his armour creaked and crunched with the dried on remains of whatever it was he was covered in, and he gagged as the smell finally assaulted his nose.
"They're both fine – Ginny was a little shaken, but her parents were called and she's with them right now. Clara is being looked after by Dumbledore – he returned to the castle shortly after you came in here." Sirius smiled at him, sinking into his chair, and grasping his hand tightly.
He leaned his head back with a relieved sigh – the last thing he could remember was just how exhausted Clara had been. There were vague images in his mind of the Great Hall, and his friends, but that was all it was – images. "She's dead, you know."
"Who is? The Basilisk? You said as much to the Great Hall last night."
"She didn't want to fight me – I didn't want to fight her when I was down there. Sirius, she was huge, if it wasn't for Clara…"
"Shh, all that matters now is that you're safe – do you understand me?" Sirius whispered, edging his chair closer. "That's all that matters."
"Will Hogwarts still close?"
Sirius shrugged. "It's hard to say – if the Basilisk is, in fact, dead, I see no reason for it to close. What about who was controlling her? The only two students unaccounted for last night were you and Ginny."
Harry grimaced and shifted in the bed uncomfortably as he felt the blood leave his face and his heart pump a little quicker. "It was a boy, Tom Riddle – he was a Slytherin Prefect. He's the one that had Hagrid expelled."
"That can't be right…" Sirius frowned. "There's no way he'd still be a boy."
"He wasn't really – he was kind of there and, well, not there. There was a diary, and it had part of him in it, I think. When I stabbed the diary with the fang, he was destroyed."
"That sounds like dark magic to me." Sirius muttered, tracing a thumb back and forth over Harry's wrist.
"That's not the worst part, Sirius." He said slowly, his eyes staring at the far wall where the partition for Hermione's bed was. He felt his jaw twitch uncomfortably as his fist opened and closed. "The boy – Tom Riddle – he was Voldemort."
Sirius said nothing for a moment and simply stared at him open-mouthed as he blinked dumbly. Harry shifted under his intense gaze as his eyes flickered to meet his godfather's. The colour had left Sirius's face, and his magic felt wild and on-edge as it brushed against Harry's own. With a visible shudder, he watched as Sirius snapped back to himself and placed his forehead against Harry's hand.
"Oh, Harry." He sighed; his voice muffled by the bedsheets. "I'm so sorry you had to face him again."
Harry shrugged. Shockingly, he felt little at having done it a second time – perhaps it hadn't truly registered with him yet, and it would finally sink in later on, but now? Now he only felt anger against the man that had tormented him for a year, who had caused him to be ostracised by his peers and haunted his dreams in his weakest moments.
"I'm not." He said after a moment, his voice cracking. Sirius looked at him, confused. "That I faced him again, I mean."
"What-" Sirius began, but Harry cut him off, pushing himself up in the bed as he did so.
"Dumbledore said last year that he was going to keep coming for me – well, he wasn't wrong. Whatever it was about him that I faced down there, all it wanted to do was meet me, to kill me – everything that happened this year was some twisted plan to get me face to face with him."
"Then we'll leave, we'll go where he can't come after you – you can grow up in Arpton, and-"
"No." Harry said, sounding far surer of himself than he felt. "I will not run away from him. I'm done letting him scare me, and I'm done letting him affect me." He took a slow, shaky breath as he looked at Sirius. His magic trickled along his arms and legs as his muscles clenched and unclenched. "I won't go looking for him, because I'm not an idiot, but if he comes after me again, I want to be ready – or, as ready as I can be."
"Harry, you're twelve." Sirius sighed, running a hand down his face, eyeing the trembling vials on his bedside wearily. "He knows magic that you have no place exploring."
Harry sniffed as the objects around him stilled. "I have no intention of learning the same things as him, but I…"
Harry paused and pursed his lips, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "I saw my mother, when I was asleep – as real to me as you are now."
"Harry…" Sirius sighed, pressing his lips tightly together as he inched closer. "Harry, you saw what you wanted to see – there's no power on this earth that lets us commune with the dead. Great men and women have gone mad trying to do so."
"She was so real, Sirius – she told me to be brave, and to be fierce, and-" Harry's chest lurched painfully as he took a shuddering gasp. "She told me she loves me."
"Oh, pup." Sirius whispered, standing, and wrapping him in a tight embrace. Harry closed his eyes as he burrowed into Sirius's shoulder, the older man's beard tickling his cheek as he whispered in his ear. "Of course she loves you – you are so loved, Harry. Me, Remus, Amelia, your friends, Ar-" Sirius leaned back and cupped both of his cheeks in a manner so similar yet so different than his mother had and he cleared his throat. "Arcturus."
"He'd be pretty mad right now, wouldn't he?" Harry murmured, his eyes darting to just over Sirius's shoulder. In his mind's eye, Arcturus was standing there. He was dressed in his armour, similar in almost every way to his own; his beard short, and his dark eyes dancing with pride as he smiled down at him. As quickly as it appeared, it faded away into nothingness as he blinked.
"Apocalyptic." Sirius snorted, just as the doors opened behind him. Both turned to look, and Harry couldn't help but grin at the sight of Remus and Andromeda walking into the room, both talking quietly between themselves until they spotted him awake in the bed.
Without a second's hesitation, the two hurried over to him – Andromeda was clad in her Healer's robes, and was casting spells on him within a heartbeat, while Remus placed a kiss into his hair, his eyes shining and his grin wide as he took him in.
"It's good to see you awake." Remus said softly, eying Andromeda's many spells out of the corner of his eye as he did so. "How're you feeling?"
"I'm fine." Harry shrugged, wincing under the slowly raised eyebrow that Andromeda threw his way. He cleared his throat and shimmied into the bed a little more. "I mean, I ache, but that's honestly about it."
"I think the treatment Poppy and I gave him when he was resting helped – it seems Clara's tears did wonders for his body." Andromeda huffed, swiping her wand through the floating representation of his body. His own magic tingled as it ghosted over him. "You, young man, are going to put years on me – it's good to see you doing better than last night."
Harry smiled tightly – he appreciated the sentiment, but he couldn't help but think that he'd have preferred to stay with his mother for a bit longer, true or not. "Thanks." He sighed, glancing down at himself. "Is there anywhere I can get out of this? It's not comfortable and frankly, I feel disgusting."
Remus and Sirius chuckled, while Andromeda pursed her lips as she smirked lopsidedly, clasping her hands before her. "There's a clean change of clothes waiting for you in the bathroom over there – make sure you wash behind your ears."
He rolled his eyes as he stumbled from the bed onto unsure feet. He wobbled precariously for a second – Andromeda was there in a heartbeat, her hands outstretched, ready to catch him if he fell, but far enough away that he was free to move on his own, in his own time. He held up a hand to stave off Sirius and Remus and sighed as he shook his arms, feeling the taught muscles loosen and relax.
He took one careful step from the bed, and then another, his balance and centre of gravity returning with each step toward the single wooden door three beds down. Andromeda hovered behind him, her quiet, gentle steps mirroring his own – she was in full Healer mode, he knew, and he appreciated the fact it was her and not Sirius or Remus hovering over him. He loved them both, but they tended to coddle him, as well intentioned as it was.
Arcturus had taught him to be as self-sufficient and self-reliant as he could be, while Sirius and Remus, in his mind, often treated him as something that could break at the slightest touch. It was their way of showing they cared, he knew, but there were some things that he had to do himself – even something as mundane as walking to the bathroom. Maybe it wasn't mundane today, the day after fighting and killing a Basilisk, but the principle remained.
His fingers wrapped around the door handle, and he felt his strength return. He pushed it open and slipped inside, Andromeda quietly letting him know she would remain by the door as he nodded and closed it with a click. He let out a sigh as he looked around, taking in the sterile, white tiles of the room.
There was a toilet, a wash basin, a mirror, and a shower, all sparkling white and with a rounded, smooth cord of metal along every edge – no doubt intended to avoid any sharp edges in the event of a fall. On a stool in the corner, lay a fresh change of clothes and new boots, all taken from his room.
He peeled the gambeson off of his body, grimacing at the sickening sounds it made as he shimmied it over his head. He gagged at the sight of it as it made a wet slapping sound against the tiles, little bits of dried blood and who knew what else flaking off onto the tiles.
Next came the chainmail. Even from a cursory glance down at his body, it looked wrecked – the metal was corroded, and there were a number of tears throughout it. He tried to think back to the fight with Ruhxu, but couldn't recall any specific times he took an injury that could have torn through his mail – though there was no denying the damage. The ties came undone quickly, and that was next to be removed, leaving it a small heap of charred and glinting rings atop his gambeson.
His doublet and tunic felt as if they were being separated from his very body. So slicked in sweat, blood and other matter were they, that he had to pause twice when they needed a forceful tug to separate them from his skin. The doublet was easier to remove, of course, sitting atop the tunic, but it was so encrusted with filth that he could barely pull it over his head.
With his upper body bare, he could see the bruises that not even Clara's healing had been able to remove, though no doubt she had been far more concerned about the venom coursing through his veins than minor welts and scrapes. He touched a particularly dark one, just below his navel and hissed as his finger ghosted the skin. In his mind, the memory of Ruhxu's tail striking him flashed before his eyes.
He breathed deeply as he bent to remove his boots, quickly tugging them loose as he tossed them unceremoniously to the side with the rest of his clothes. His trousers were last, and he shivered for a moment in the coldness of the room. He stepped around the mound of wrecked clothing, for even if it was possible to repair or clean any of it, he wanted to do nothing more than burn it, and stepped into the shower basin, flicking the rune for the warm, soapy water as he did so.
How long he remained under the water, he didn't know – only that all the scrubbing in the world couldn't remove the thick layers of sweat, grime and blood away. He was thankful, at least, that the only blood that was on him – mostly his face, neck, shoulder, and forearm – was his own. He'd seen what blinding Ruhxu had done to his sword and had no desire to experience it first-hand with his own body.
He would require a new one, of that he was certain; something to ponder for the summer. Whatever it would be, it would be made at Arpton, of that, there was no doubt.
The grime soon gave way to pale flesh, which was promptly scrubbed until it was pink. Of all the aching parts of his body, it was his right, inner forearm, just beneath the elbow that he was the most hesitant to touch. Each time, his body flinched – he could see, clear as day, where the fang had pierced him, but to anyone else, there was naught but perfect skin.
The ghost of his injury hovered before his eyes, and his stomach rolled uncomfortably as he imagined being able to see through his arm. The blood pumped from it steadily and the white of his wrecked bone glinted in the flickering flames of the Magefyre all around him.
He shook himself violently and brought himself back to the present, scrubbing at his thick hair with renewed vigour, scrubbing at his scalp with his fingertips. He sighed as he watched the last of the suds disappear around his feet and he switched the water off with a quick pulse of his magic.
The water dripped from his body as he stepped onto the white tiles – his useless clothes were gone, no doubt taken by the House Elves, or Andromeda had nipped in at the sound of the running water. He glanced at the shower curtain behind him, thankful he'd at least had the presence of mind to pull it to as he washed.
The tiles were also clean again, gone were the flakes of questionable fluids. He summoned a towel to his hand and rubbed himself dry before scrubbing his hair. He shrugged the clean clothes on silently, tugging underwear and trousers on first before tossing the loose, baggy tunic, whose sleeves he rolled to just beneath his elbows. The boots were last – simple dragonhide and fine quality with a firm sole and heel.
He drew himself to his full height and wiped the mist from the mirror with the towel, gazing at himself in the mirror. He had a cut on his cheek, thin and long that trailed his cheekbone, and another on his chin. They were little things that would heal in time, but outside of those two things, he looked to be fine. A little tired, perhaps, but overall fine.
He nodded to himself and stepped from the room – his wand holster and wand hadn't been on him when he had removed his clothing, and already, he itched uncomfortably with their absence. He could only hope they were on his bedside table.
To see Amelia having joined the others at his bedside, with a pair of Aurors standing guard by the large doors gave him pause. They turned to look at him as the door clicked shut behind him.
"Harry." Amelia smiled. "It's good to see you up and about – and clean." She grinned at him, her eyes travelling the length of his body with a raised eyebrow.
"It feels better too." He replied with a small smile, rolling his right shoulder absently; it felt a little stiff, but otherwise it was fine – something he'd only noticed once he'd started towelling off his body. He glanced at the bed warily. "Have the sheets been changed? Andromeda can threaten me all she likes, but if those are the same sheets…" He winced, remembering some of the larger patches of grime that had covered his armour.
Remus chuckled, while Andromeda simply narrowed her eyes playfully at him and crossed her arms across her chest. "I'll have you know that I would never force you into filthy sheets." She sniffed.
"The House Elves came by and changed them while you were in the shower." Sirius chuckled rocking back and forth on his heels. "I think they were a little eager."
"That's putting it mildly." Remus muttered, just loud enough for Harry to hear.
"I want to see Clara." Harry said, clearing his throat as he glanced at the adults. "I need to know she's okay."
"She's fine, Harry – but we need to have a little chat first, if you're feeling up to it." Amelia said gently, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly as she sat in a chair and crossed her legs. Her hair was loose for a change, something he assumed had been left forgotten in her mad scramble out of bed when he'd called Sirius before venturing into the Chamber.
"I guess." He shrugged, eyeing those around him warily. "Do you at least know where my wand is first?"
"Oh, I have that here." Andromeda said, quickly pulling it from her robes. "It was a filthy, so I gave it a quick clean while you were in the shower." She smiled, handing it to him.
Harry smiled down at the eleven-inch Blackthorn wand in his hands, the wood so dark it appeared completely black, and the pale Vinewood handle with little carvings of vines spiralling around it. With it in his hands again, he felt some of the mounting anxiety leave his body with a rush, and his shoulders sag in relief. He wasn't sure what he would have done if he'd lost it or it had been damaged somehow.
"I'm sure you understand how serious the accusation of there being a Basilisk in the school is, Harry." Amelia sighed, folding her hands in her lap carefully as she looked at him.
Harry nodded as he continued to roll the wand between his fingertips absently. He knew all too well just what could have happened to the school if Minister Fudge hadn't been in denial over any more attacks – it was bad enough Hagrid had taken the blame for it the first time all those years ago.
"You'd have torn the school down, brick by brick looking for it."
"Possibly, if it was elusive to find." Amelia hummed, her eyes darting to the Aurors at the door. Harry turned to look at them; one was a large, dark-skinned man with a bald head and broad shoulders, while another was a woman – her hair was dark and braided over her left shoulder. "Though I believe Aurors Shacklebolt and Roberts would have found it without it having to come to that."
"Are either of them Parselmouths?" He asked, looking at Amelia. She shook her head. "Then they wouldn't have been able to."
"Why don't you walk me through what happened down there?" Amelia asked, her head tilting to the left as she shifted in her seat.
Harry breathed deeply and closed his eyes and felt Sirius squeeze his wrist comfortingly. "It all started around Christmas – we worked out it was a Basilisk, because Hermione realised I was hearing it talk. After that, it was just working out what snakes have the ability to petrify – it wasn't hard." He shrugged, opening his eyes. "We wanted to bring as much evidence to you as we could – where the Chamber was, for example, because we didn't want to have to leave the school."
He sighed as he glanced at Sirius sheepishly. "I, uh, I mean, we, didn't really think too much about it after that. I mentioned it to Sirius and Remus, who passed it on to you." Amelia nodded at that. "It was only about two weeks ago we thought we found the entrance – none of us could be sure, but it was the best bet."
"And where was the entrance?"
"Didn't Neville show you?" He asked, blinking at her confused.
"He did, but I'd just like to confirm and hear it from you as well."
"Oh." Harry murmured before clearing his throat. "Well, there's a locket on the statue of Salazar Slytherin in the Trophy Room on the second floor – the statue is the entrance. There's a spiral staircase that leads down below the castle, and you come to this big cavern – it's, uh, quite disgusting in there, actually." He grimaced, feeling his nose crinkle at the memory.
"After that, there's a big metal door with a Mithril snake on it with ruby eyes. After that, you're in the Chamber itself – that's where I fought Ruhxu."
"And to confirm, Ruhxu was the name of this Basilisk?"
"Aye – she was huge. I'm pretty sure Newt Scamander said the largest ever recorded was forty feet, right?"
"Something like that, give or take." Amelia huffed, pressing her lips tightly together. "Why?"
"Because Ruhxu was probably at least twice that." Harry muttered, glancing at the floor as he heard Sirius suck in a breath at his side. "She was Salazar's Familiar, I think."
One of the Aurors, the woman, scoffed from the door, and Harry found his eyes darting to her, as all the heads in the room turned. "Something to say, Auror Roberts?"
"Sorry, Director – I just find it hard to believe a kid took on a Basilisk." She replied, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly.
"As do I, but we confirmed the fang was indeed from a Basilisk last night." Amelia sighed, looking back at Harry. "Speaking of – how did you come to get that fang? I doubt this Ruhxu gave it willingly?"
Harry winced. "I, uh – pulled it out of my arm. Just here." He said, pointing to his forearm, lifting up his tunic sleeve as he did.
"There's nothing there." Sirius frowned, his fingers trailing over the smooth skin carefully.
"That's because of Clara. Clara blinded Ruhxu's eye after I took her first one – that's why my sword was wrecked – and after a bit, she lifted her nose enough for me to stab the roof of her mouth with the Sword of Gryffindor. The fang went through my arm when I shoved the sword into her. Clara saved my life."
"We'll come to the sword in a minute." Amelia sighed, rubbing at her temples. "So, your Phoenix healed you – I assume that's why she's so exhausted?"
Harry nodded and pressed his lips together.
"Okay – can you tell me anything about whoever was controlling the snake? Who released it?"
Harry was silent for a moment as the questions bounced around his mind. He was reminded, quite suddenly, of a conversation he'd had with Headmaster Dumbledore in the very same room only a year before, following his confrontation with Quirrell. It felt like so long ago, and despite only being a year ago, he felt so much older than he had then.
At the time, he'd been sure that the more people that knew of Voldemort's survival, the better – but now…
He'd seen what the Ministry was willing to do to placate the Wizengamot and the many citizens of their world with the attacks at Hogwarts. He knew of Minister Fudge's attempts to stonewall Amelia's further investigations after Hagrid's sudden arrest. What would happen if he announced the return of the most feared Dark Lord in recent memory?
He sighed and glanced at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. "It was a memory of a student, contained in a diary. I destroyed the diary with the fang – it was a boy called Tom Riddle. The same student that was given an award for turning in Hagrid and getting him expelled the last time it was opened."
"Shall I assume it's the same diary you threw to the ground with the fang?"
"Probably – everything after the fight is pretty fuzzy."
"Is there anything else I should know?" Amelia asked, pursing her lips as she looked at him. "Anything you might have forgotten?"
"Nothing I can think of." He said slowly, looking around at those in the room. He chewed his lip for a quiet moment before blurting, "I can show you the Chamber of Secrets, if that'll help?"
"Harry-" Sirius began, frowning.
"You can't possibly think we'd let you go back in there." Remus scoffed, leaning forward in his chair.
"You need proof it's dead, right? Other than what I've said and a single fang?" Harry asked, looking directly at Amelia.
She looked pained as her eyes darted between her husband and the Steward of House Black, but, eventually, she nodded. "I do. Without a confirmed kill, I would still need to close the school."
"Then I'll take you down there then. There's nothing else dangerous in there – a few bones and remains before the Chamber itself, but nothing dangerous."
"They can get another Parselmouth and you can tell them how to open it – you're not going back in there." Sirius said, his voice hard as Mithril.
"I, uh – I don't think that would work." He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm pretty sure the Chamber will only open for me now."
"What?"
"The Mithril snake on the door – after I left with Ginny, I'm pretty sure it said the Chamber was mine now."
"Gods." Sirius muttered, stumbling to his feet as he swept his hands down his face tiredly. Harry watched him walk to one of the large windows and lean against the large stone bricks. The sky was blue through the window, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. "Isn't there anything we can do? Bring the Dwarves in? Something?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder at Amelia.
"Possibly, but Fudge would never sign off on it – he's been passing these last two incidents off as rumour as it is. He's convinced Hagrid is the one responsible."
"It seems we're left with little choice in the matter if we're to keep this school open." Remus sighed, getting to his feet. "If Harry is to go down there again, he'll not go with just a handful of Aurors – no offence, Amelia."
"None taken." She smirked, her eyes sparkling, while the Aurors at the door huffed their displeasure in the background.
"We'll all go." Andromeda nodded, getting to her own feet, patting her robes down.
"On one condition." Harry said, looking at the adults arrayed around him. "My friends get to come too – do you have any idea what Daphne would do to me if I went back in there and she didn't know about it?" He shivered a little at the thought.
Amelia looked torn. He knew, on the one hand, she needed a confirmed kill on the creature – even the slightest possibility that the Basilisk could have survived would mean having to tear the school apart looking for it. On the other hand, she couldn't enter the Chamber without him.
"Absolutely not." Sirius said, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly. "It's bad enough you're entering it again – I'll not put Castor's daughter in harm's way, nor Augusta's boy."
"So, Tracey can come?" Harry asked, cocking a brow at him.
"Now you listen-" Sirius began.
Amelia, however, cut him off. "Very well."
"I – wait, what?" Sirius thundered, spinning to look at his wife. "You-"
"Sirius, I need a body. If he's telling the truth, I'll not be able to enter any time soon. Besides, he has the entire summer with the two of us – if he thinks for a second that he's getting away with this…" Amelia said, levelling a look at Harry; he swallowed nervously.
"Fine!" Sirius snapped with a huff, storming to the door. "I'll get the bloody children, so we can all enter a Basilisk's lair together!"
Harry winced as the two Aurors scrambled to open the door for Sirius, their complexions pale as he thundered past them, his magic thrumming around his body and dancing along his fingertips.
"He'll come around." Amelia sighed, clasping her hands before her as she turned to look at him. "You, young man, are in for a summer to remember after this."
"I know." He muttered, staring at the floor between his feet. "I guess you want to know about the Sword, now?"
"It would be a start." Amelia answered, her eyes darting to Andromeda and Remus when he looked up. Both adults, he noticed, as he glanced at them, were watching him with differing expressions. Remus looked torn between amused and wanting to scold him, while Andromeda regarded him with an unreadable expression.
"Ser Cadogan told me where to find it, after I, uh, knocked out Filch by accident – is he okay, by the way?"
"He's fine." Andromeda huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "None too happy with you."
"Wonderful." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "It was in a room on the fifth floor, in a portrait. I pulled it out of the painting." He shrugged.
"It was here the entire time?"
"I guess." Harry shrugged. "Where is it?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore has it in his office for now – there was some talk of taking it back to the Ministry, but it's been deemed best to have it remain here." Remus said, answering before Amelia could.
Before Harry could respond, Sirius strode into the room, sending the doors crashing into the stone walls on their hinges, the two Aurors barely scrambling out the way in time. On his heels were his friends, all anxiously trying to keep up. Harry grinned as he saw them, and within moments, the three of them were sprinting the remaining distance.
They swallowed him in a tight hug, with Neville getting to him first – even Daphne took part in the hug, which was shocking in its own right. He chuckled as his ribs groaned under the pressure – it was a shame there was one missing. He glanced over at the partition and let out a heavy sigh; she'd be back with them soon.
"Harry, if you could lead the way?" Amelia said, clearing her throat as they all broke apart. Harry nodded as his friends looked at him, confused.
"Where are we going?" Tracey asked, frowning. "We just got here."
"I, uh, have to do one last thing, and thought you might want to come with me." He said slowly, glancing over his shoulder as he led the way out of the Hospital. Sirius grumbled quietly to Amelia and Remus, while Andromeda took up the rear with the two Aurors.
"To where?" Daphne asked, slowly.
"The Chamber of Secrets." He answered, chuckling at the way their eyes widened excitedly. Despite the events of the last night and the year as a whole, the Chamber was very much a mysterious place, shrouded in myth and legend – it hadn't even been a confirmed reality until fifty years ago.
Salazar was such a private, mysterious man, that all sorts of theories and ideas had sprung up over the years, each one as ridiculous as the last. As much as he wanted to avoid Daphne gutting him for entering the damned place without her, he couldn't have wasted the opportunity to share the discovery with them. After all, Daphne and Tracey had done most of the work.
When she woke up, he'd definitely be taking Hermione down there – he wouldn't have her being the only one not to look upon it. Besides, she deserved it, having been attacked by the Basilisk and all.
"You're joking." Neville blinked, stumbling slightly.
"Not at all – Amelia needs a confirmed kill." Harry shrugged as they passed the Great Hall – it was mostly empty, but for a small handful of students that didn't notice their passing. Moments later, they were climbing the first staircase.
Everyone was silent as they climbed up and up, the stairs thankfully remaining in place as they travelled from landing to landing. By the time they made it to the Trophy Room itself, Harry's legs had a pleasant ache running up and down them.
They passed the statues, until they stood in front of Salazar himself; his stone eyes staring at Rowena. Harry's eyes were fixated on the locket and the stone serpent. "Haju." He said, watching as its little eyelids blinked open slowly.
"Master." It hissed demurely. "The Heir of Slytherin commands, and I obey."
Harry grimaced, and Amelia was immediately at his side, glancing between himself and the statue. "What did it say?"
"It called me the Heir of Slytherin." He sighed. "Well, I guess everyone was eventually right."
"Everyone in the castle has blamed Harry for the attacks all year – they all thought he was the Heir." Neville said, looking up at Amelia.
"I know, Neville." She answered him with a sigh before pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alright, Harry – let's get this over with."
"Open the Chamber." Harry said, turning back to look at the statue. Within seconds, the statue was sinking into the stone floor, the grinding noise bouncing along the corridor-like room loudly. With a dull thud, the statue halted, and the dank staircase awaited them.
Harry went first, his eyes quickly adjusting to the low-light cast by the lichen and the moss on the wall. "Watch your step." He muttered, lighting the tip of his wand with a murmured Lumos, pointing it down the stairs. "It's a bit slippery."
Sirius followed him immediately, his own wand flicking into his hand as the tip came alive with a white light. He led the way down slowly, taking care where to place his feet.
"What happened to Lockhart?" Tracey asked from above, her voice loud in the small, silent space.
It was the Auror, Shacklebolt, that answered her with a snort. "We took him into custody as he tried to bolt from the castle."
"Good riddance." Daphne muttered.
"Coward." Neville grunted, echoing Harry's own private thoughts.
Lockhart had been hired to teach the students and to protect them from danger, after all, the staff were responsible for those they taught – he couldn't imagine abandoning children to save himself, no matter the circumstances.
"He'll get his for abandoning the school, don't you worry." Roberts said, just as Harry stepped from the spiral staircase.
The cavern looked much the same as it had the previous night, only less foreboding with the sunlight filtering through the large cracks, rather than pale moonlight. The stench was just as rank, however, and he covered his nose on reflex with the crook of his elbow.
"It's foul down here." Tracey muttered, joining his side a moment later as she glanced down at the layer of detritus that blanketed the floor. "Really vile."
"I'm not sure what's more disgusting – this or Devil's Snare." Daphne muttered, quickly followed by an insulted huff from Neville.
"Come on, the Chamber is on the far side." He said, quickly making his way into the cavern, making a point of not looking around in the extra light that he hadn't had the night before. He passed the remains of the Centaur and ignored the horrified gasp of Tracey until they came upon the abandoned snakeskin just before the stairs.
"Damn, he really wasn't exaggerating." Roberts muttered, casting her wand over it slowly, the scales shimmering in the pale light. "You've got balls to come down here on your own, kid." She said, looking at him.
He shrugged and began to make his way down the uneven steps. With more light, it was easier to see where he was putting his feet this time, and at the bottom, the milky-white metal of the Mithril serpent caught the light every few seconds. Even from the top of the stairs, he could clearly see the pair of unnatural, crimson eyes that tracked his every movement.
This time, the snake said nothing to him, its hood barely even twitching behind its head as the door swung open and the Chamber lit with Magefyre torches along what pillars remained intact.
In the flickering blue light of the Chamber of Secrets, Ruhxu's corpse lay for everyone in the group to see. There were the startled gasps, and behind him, Andromeda gripped his shoulder painfully with her free hand. Daphne gripped his wrist, while Sirius and Remus cursed under their breath.
"Holy shit." Shacklebolt swore, stumbling down the steps beside him slowly. "You really did kill it – how?"
"I told you." Harry shrugged. "It was Clara, mostly. Ginny lay at the foot of the statue at the far end, just by the edge of the water." He said, pointing a little way past the corpse, where the flickering light of the columns of Magefyre by Salazar's head cast dancing shadows over the stone tiles.
Amelia and Roberts hurried to the corpse and began casting their wands over the creature, bold, orange trails flowing behind the tips of their wands as they murmured under their breath. Shacklebolt remained at Harry's side, as did the other adults as they stepped around the fallen Basilisk warily, half expecting it to jump up at any moment; Harry knew better though – he knew the snake was dead, her huge body would no doubt be harvested for materials and sold to the highest bidder – something he would have to oversee personally as the one who dealt the fatal blow.
It would be prestige for House Potter, something that would make both allies and enemies hesitate for the rest of his life, but now, as he looked at her ruined face, and the deep cuts the Sword of Gryffindor had left all over her body, he couldn't help but feel remorse.
He had declared his intention to kill her to his friends – she had attacked Hermione, after all – but now, looking at her, he couldn't help but feel the sharp, stabbing lance of regret in his chest. After all was said and done, no matter how dangerous he knew she was, Ruhxu was a magnificent creature.
There was no way she could have survived in their world – Basilisks were illegal for a reason; hunted down when one was discovered, for a reason. It just seemed like such a waste. He could remember the painful, wailing screeches that he hadn't paid any heed during their fight. Whatever Tom had done, it had finally broken her mind, and she had become nothing more than a slave to Riddle.
"There's blood here." Daphne muttered, drawing his eyes away from the snake, whose ruined eyes stared at him dully, the only thing that vaguely indicated they had, in fact, been eyes at all was the very visible eye sockets and the ridge above them.
"Aye, it's mine." Harry muttered, looking down at the stone tile. "There was the wound in my arm, and I coughed up a fair bit from the venom, I think."
"The venom?" Tracey cried, whirling on him with furious eyes. "You let her bite you?"
"Not on purpose." Harry answered with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the way she pursed her lips and cocked her hip at him. "One of her fangs went through my arm when I killed her – Clara healed me."
"I told you coming down here was stupid." Daphne sniffed, purposely not looking at him.
"Where do the passages lead?" Neville asked, changing the subject as he pointed to the large archways that branched off from the large room.
"No clue – Ruhxu came from the mouth of the statue, and I never went down any of them. They look large enough for her to use, though."
"We'll map it all out." Amelia said, striding up to them from behind. "I suspect we'll be down here fairly often, Harry, but, with your help, we could have this whole thing sorted by the time we pick you up from London."
"Really?" He asked, fighting the urge to grin. "You mean the school won't close?"
"No, I see no reason to close the school now – not even the Ministry can shrug this off." She sighed, glancing over her shoulder to look at the still form of Ruhxu. In the dancing light of the Chamber, shadows flittered across Amelia's face. "I'm looking at it and I'm struggling to believe it." She muttered, before glancing down at him, a soft smile tugging on the corners of her lips. "You continue to surprise me, Harry."
It was the middle of the afternoon when Harry was finally escorted to the Headmaster's office on the seventh floor – from everything he had seen from the windows of the school along his journey, it had continued to be a pleasant day.
The sun shone brightly, casting its warm hues over the expansive grounds of the school, and the sky was a rich blue, clear of any clouds and only marred by the occasional Familiar soaring along the gentle breeze that caused the flags to flap, and the tops of the large pine trees to sway gently.
It had felt liberating, to leave the Chamber after spending much of the day wandering about the eerie tunnels. They had, in truth, only wandered along a single one, and it had stretched on almost forever. The brick and stone had been slick and covered in all sorts of unmentionable fluids, and they had come across three more skins – none quite so large as the one outside the Chamber itself, but still equally as impressive.
His friends had been in awe the entire time, each of them looking at him a little differently in their own way after seeing what remained of Ruhxu. Tracey had a slight glint of something in her hazel eyes when she looked at him, and in truth, the colour hadn't quite returned to her cheeks in the time since they had retreated back to the school. Daphne had been quiet; they had talked a little as they wandered the tunnel along with the Aurors, Sirius, Remus, and Andromeda, but of the three, she had been the most subdued.
Neville had been, well, Neville. He had been excited from almost the first moment he had set foot in the large, cavernous room, and more than once Sirius had to grip the back of his coat before he rushed off to look at some lichen along the walls. His exuberance was matched only by his quiet murmurings that he wished he'd been there to help him – truly, he could have no better companion.
The adults had been split – Sirius had stewed quietly in his anger, unaccepting that it was he who needed to access the Chamber, that it was only him that Haju would answer to; something that sat uncomfortably with Harry himself. Remus, while reluctant to let Harry out of his sight for even a heartbeat, was almost as enthralled with the hidden sanctuary of Slytherin as Neville, while Andromeda had been reserved, her face guarded; the only crack in the mask she wore being the quiet, shaky breathes whenever she glanced upon the remains.
Amelia and the Aurors had left the castle – he'd watched them walk from the main doors toward the path to the winged boar gates to the north of the school. They were to return with a larger group and plenty of equipment to begin the mapping of the tunnels and to catalogue the corpse for the Ministry's records.
It had been most startling to be told, in no uncertain terms, that Ruhxu's remains belonged to him. It was an old law, from a time shortly before the breeding of such creatures was outlawed – whomsoever defeated the beast, would be given its remains; a way of encouraging witches and wizards, who were sufficiently trained, to hunt them down, wherever they were found.
He'd looked to Sirius, who had nodded silently at the news. Amelia had been the one to break the news to him, her lips had been pressed tightly together as her eyes had darted between himself and the remains. So, in the darkness of the Chamber of Secrets, with only the dancing Magefyre to illuminate the world around him, Harry had found himself the owner of Ruhxu's remains – the largest Basilisk on record, and a specimen of over a thousand years, brought low by a child of twelve and a sword straight out of history.
It would have made a good story, if it hadn't been him that had almost died, choking on his own blood, a gaping hole in his arm, and the corrosive agony of Basilisk Venom coursing through his body. Even as he glanced around the corridor leading the Headmaster's office, he could still feel the lingering ache in his arm just beneath his elbow, and the tightness in his chest as he remembered the laboured gasps of breath he'd fought for with his head propped up against Ginny's thigh. The cold, mocking laughter of Tom Riddle – Voldemort – as he stood over him, his sickening, crimson eyes glowing in the darkness of the Chamber.
He shivered to himself as the sound whispered in his mind. He breathed deeply through his nose and breathed out through his mouth – a simple exercise from the Mind Healer he had seen briefly after the incident on the road to Arpton all those years ago, and something he had come to use once more after the events of this terrible, terrible year.
Professor McGonagall peered down at him from where she walked at his side, her dark robes flowed about her feet as her heeled boots clicked against the flagstone. Her hair, as always, was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head; her face was stony, expressionless, but for her eyes – her brown eyes danced over him, and he smiled as she brushed her magic against his own; it was warm and soothing, and the brief glimpse of her exasperation at his antic almost made him snort.
The two of them arrived at the large gargoyle guardian, and its stone eyes blinked at the two of them slowly, only stepping aside when McGonagall announced the password – Kitkat, of all strange things. The two of them stepped onto the large, spiral staircase as it rose into the air, the grinding of the stone almost deafening, until the heavy, dull boom announced their arrival.
As Professor McGonagall led the way, Harry was content to follow in her wake. He followed her through the heavy oak door, and through a small chamber, before entering the office of Albus Dumbledore without so much as a knock.
His eyes swept the room, taking in the gadgets, and knickknacks in the glass cabinets, all buzzing and whirring away quietly behind, what he assumed, were powerful silencing spells – especially as one in particular, a metal goblet that was hissing steam, kept slamming itself against the glass.
There were the usual shelves of hundreds of books, all reaching high up toward the vaulted ceiling, and his fingers itched to trace themselves over their leather spines, to open them up and see what secrets they held.
The soft caw of Fawkes pulled his attention to Dumbledore's desk, and his lips pressed tightly together at seeing his Familiar tucked into herself, her feathers dull compared to their usual vibrancy. Her eyes were closed, and the only thing that calmed him was seeing how Fawkes fussed over her as she slept.
"Ah, Harry." Dumbledore smiled, peering over his spectacles. Harry looked at him for the first time, and bowed his head, though his eyes continued to dart between the elderly wizard and the Phoenix that had saved his life – twice, now; no doubt she would be counting.
"Headmaster." He answered quietly. "Is she-"
"Clara is a remarkable Phoenix, I do well believe that curing someone of Basilisk Venom would be a task that would have forced a Burning Day on Fawkes – that Clara shows no sign of a burning is something quite remarkable." Dumbledore said, standing to run his fingers down the neck of Fawkes. "She is simply resting, though I understand your anxiety. She ate shortly before you arrived – a juicy pair of steaks, I believe it was."
"She'll have all the steak she could ask for this summer." Harry said, clasping his arms at the small of his back.
"Do you still need me, Albus?" McGonagall asked from where she had come to a stop by Dumbledore's desk. "I barely trust Sirius to behave himself without someone there to mind him."
Harry smiled privately to himself as Dumbledore chuckled to himself as he lowered his aging body into the large, throne-like chair behind his desk. "No, Minerva, you may leave – that is, if Harry here doesn't object?"
He shrugged as the two adults looked at him – McGonagall with the faintest hint of a smile, and Dumbledore with his gentle smile as his fingers steepled themselves in front of his face. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall has more important things to do than watch over me."
"It would seem I might have to do just that after last night's escapades, Mister Potter." She said, patting him on the shoulder as she strode past him. "I'm glad you're safe." She added quietly, before moving past him and out the door.
The room was silent for a moment as the quiet click of the latch echoed throughout the room. Harry glanced up at the many portraits peering down at him, all with mixed expressions on their faces – some were curious, leaning forward in their painted chairs, while others seemed disinterested, content to busy themselves with whatever it was that magical portraits did.
"Now, I'm sure you must realise just how many school rules you broke in the last twenty-four hours?" Dumbledore said, drawing Harry's eyes once more. Harry inclined his head slowly and licked his lips. "Therefore, I think it only fitting that you, and your friends, including Miss Granger, receive Special Awards, for services to this school."
Harry blinked as his mouth opened and closed. He'd thought for sure that he was to be punished for venturing into the Chamber – it made sense, after all. He had rendered a member of staff unconscious, accidentally, of course, and ventured into the Chamber when he should have left it to the Aurors and joined his fellow students in the Great Hall. That the Aurors wouldn't have been able to enter the hidden sanctum was a moot point – they were the adults, and it was up to them to handle the dangerous situations.
Sirius had been quite clear on that.
Not only was he not being punished or reprimanded, but he was to be given a Special Award – that meant his name would forever remain in the Trophy Room; his name would be going in Hogwarts: A History! Merlin, Hermione would be in her favourite book!
"I don't know what to say…"
Dumbledore smiled through his thick, white beard and leaned forward in his chair. "I want to thank you, Harry. You showed real courage and bravery down in the Chamber – to put yourself in harm's way to protect those in the school after everything you've suffered this year… I can't be sure if I'd have done the same in your shoes."
He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he fidgeted on the spot. He ducked his head for a moment, staring at a spot between his boots, before looking back up at the Headmaster of the school. "It was the right thing to do – I'm sure anyone else would have done the same."
Dumbledore chuckled and sat back in his chair, his hands resting comfortably on the arms as he shook his head sadly. "I fear you overestimate the selflessness of people, Harry – though I admire your faith. I have seen much in my time; I have seen the best, and I have witnessed the worst. Through it all, I have held fast to my hope, and I hope it's something that remains with you for the rest of your life."
"I know how fickle people can be." Harry shrugged. "They love and fear me in the same breath – I'm used to it."
"Ah yes," Dumbledore nodded, a hand rising, only to slowly run down his beard. "The price that comes with such renown – something, I believe, you to be handling remarkably well. You keep your friends close, and your loved ones closer; there is a strength to that, a magic, if you will."
Harry tilted his head his head slightly as his brow furrowed. "A magic?"
"Indeed – it is a subtle one, but one I believe there, nonetheless. Take your search for the Chamber of Secrets, Harry. Your drive, and those of your friends, to protect the young Miss Granger, led you, inevitably, to discover the location of a secret that this castle has kept hidden for over a thousand years."
"That was all Daphne, I just spoke Parseltongue." Harry muttered, shifting awkwardly.
"Perhaps, but circumstances conspired to place you exactly where you needed to be, when you needed to be there. If that isn't magic, what is, hm?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow as he peered over his glasses.
"Bad luck?"
Dumbledore chuckled as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the large desk that sat between the two of them. Slowly, his amusement faded, and his eyes became serious, and Harry caught a glimpse of the powerful wizard behind the lilac robes and the strange pieces of wisdom. "I sense that something is troubling you – am I right, Harry?"
He breathed deeply and winced. "I uh, I couldn't help but notice certain similarities between Tom Riddle and myself."
"I see – and have you mentioned any of these to anyone?"
"No, sir. I only noticed them when we were leaving the Chamber just before Professor McGonagall brought me here."
Dumbledore nodded slowly and pursed his lips. "You can speak Parseltongue, possibly, because Lord Voldemort can speak Parseltongue." Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. "Magic seeks balance, Harry – in all things. Tom Riddle was an exceptionally brilliant young man, with a number of gifts that set him apart from his peers. You, are an exceptionally brilliant young man, who also has a number of gifts that set you apart from the rest of the students within these halls."
"I'd rather not be set apart." Harry muttered with a sigh.
"Indeed, and I wouldn't blame you in the slightest, Harry. Tell me, what do you know about the balance of magic in the world? Of Wild Magic?"
He shrugged. "Only what I've read, and what you've told me. Wild Magic is in everything, even Muggles – the more you have, the higher chances you can cast magic."
Dumbledore nodded before standing and walking around his desk slowly, leaning against the edge as he clasped his hands before him. "There is truth to that, though none of us really know much of anything about Wild Magic – that is, because of that very reason, why we refer to it as wild, you see." Dumbledore paused and pursed his lips as his eyes grew distant for a moment. "You understand the categorisation of wizards and witches, correct?"
"Aye." Harry nodded slowly, his hands fidgeting at the small of his back.
"Here, why don't we get more comfortable, Harry." Dumbledore smiled, gesturing to a pair of chairs by the fireplace. Harry followed, and sank into the plush armchair across from Dumbledore, who sat on the edge of his own, leaning on the arm. "There are those we consider Mages – men and women with such incredible power that many end up being taught in the very textbooks you study today."
"You're one – so was Grindelwald."
"Correct. Sometimes, many are born close together, or even in the same generation during times of strife and chance. Other times, they are born decades, even centuries apart, but there will always be one to balance out the other in the event of conflict. I have always believed it to be nature's way of making sure the balance of magic is maintained."
"You're saying I'm Voldemort's balance, aren't you? His equal?" Harry sighed, feeling the air rush from his lungs as he slumped back in the chair. "That's why I'm the first Potter to speak Parseltongue."
"Possibly – it is nothing more than a theory." Dumbledore shrugged. "None can say why people are born with the gifts they have, nor truly, what drives men and women to make the choices they do. Voldemort, at the height of his power, in the middle of a war he was winning, chose to target you – a child of not even two years, and by so doing, he was laid so low that he was robbed of his physical body."
"I don't want to be his equal. I just want to come to school and be with my friends."
"You may not be, Harry – after all, this is simply the theory of an old man. I have no proof either way; only my own thoughts." Dumbledore smiled. "My advice, if I may be so bold as to offer it," Harry nodded. "enjoy your time in school. Laugh, play, love, and learn. Become the best possible version of yourself that you can be. If, in the future, it does come down to a battle between the two of you, make sure you enter it with no regrets."
"Did you have regrets when you faced Grindelwald?" Harry asked, taking a shaky breath as he looked at the wizard across from him. "You were his equal, right? His balance."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth behind the beard. "I had many regrets when I faced Gellert, but I think that a topic for another day when you're a little older, hm? I do believe we're about to have a visitor."
No sooner than the words left his mouth, the door to the office was thrown open, banging violently against the stone wall. In the entrance was Lucius Malfoy, his pale face and platinum hair a harsh contrast to the dark robes he wore. He held his cane in his hand as he peered around the space with contempt.
A pair of large, emerald eyes peered out from behind his cloak, and Harry couldn't suppress his gasp of surprise. "Dobby!" He said, looking back at the wizard in the doorway as he got to his feet. "So this is your master – you serve House Malfoy."
Dobby cringed as he glanced up at the Lord of House Malfoy. "I'll deal with you later." Lucius growled dangerously, glaring at the House Elf. Harry's jaw clenched.
Lucius immediately strode over to the pair of them, and Dumbledore manoeuvred around him toward his desk. Just as Lucius made to shove him out of the way with his cane, Harry's hand darted out and gripped it tightly, his magic thrumming.
"Try and touch me with that stick again, and I'll make good on Sirius's warning in Diagon Alley." He said, releasing the dark wood as Lucius yanked it free with a scoff.
The Lord of House Malfoy turned to regard the Headmaster in his chair as he passed Harry, paying him no further mind. A snub, to be sure, but one that suited Harry just fine. "So, it's true then. You have returned."
"When the Board of Governors learned that Arthur Weasley's daughter was taken into the Chamber, they saw fit to summon me back." Dumbledore replied easily with a small smile.
Lucius made a face as he turned from the desk. "Ridiculous." He spat, and Harry found his eyes rolling.
"Curiously, Lucius, several were under the impression that you would curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."
"How dare you." Lucius hissed, striding toward the desk, and placing his hands on the varnished wood. Harry pulled his wand from where he'd stashed it in his waistband after leaving the Chamber.
"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore murmured, raising his eyebrows, and shifting forward ever so slightly.
"My sole concern has always been and will always be the welfare of this school, and of course its students." Lucius said, glancing over his shoulder at him. Harry narrowed his eyes and felt his muscles tense. "The culprit has been identified; I presume?"
"Oh yes." Dumbledore nodded slowly.
"And? Who was it?"
Harry glanced at Dumbledore and found the Headmaster's eyes meeting his own for a moment. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair as he returned his focus to the man before him. "Voldemort."
Lucius stumbled away from the desk as if he'd been struck, his already pale complexion paling further as his lips trembled. The fear radiated from him, his magic so thick with it, that for a moment, Harry had to fight the urge to physically react.
"Only, this time, he chose to act through somebody else. By means, of this." Dumbledore continued, holding up the ruined diary from his desk. Harry shifted uncomfortably at the sight of it, remembering the moment he'd pierced it with the Basilisk fang far too vividly.
"Ah, I see."
Harry's hand clenched around the handle of his wand as the quiet padding of Dobby's feet reached his yes. He glanced down at the small Elf, who inclined his head between the diary and Lucius.
"Our young Mister Potter destroyed it. One would hope that no more of Voldemort's old school things should find their way into innocent hands." Dumbledore continued, and Harry's eyes darted between the diary and Lucius. "The consequences for the one responsible would be severe."
"Well," Lucius murmured, turning to look at him. Harry returned his gaze and lifted his chin. "Let us hope that Mister Potter will always be around to save the day."
"Oh, don't you worry." Harry answered, raising a brow at the older man. "I'll always be where I need to be."
"Indeed." Lucius sniffed, regarding the Headmaster one last time. "Dumbledore. Come, Dobby – we're leaving." He said, coldly. Harry watched as Dobby shuffled forward, only to cry out as Lucius kicked him down the steps that led to the outer chamber of Dumbledore's office.
Harry breathed deeply and clenched his fist around his wand as he watched the small creature, one that had risked so much to help him, stumble to his feet, moaning pitifully. How could anyone treat a House Elf so cruelly?
He watched the two of them leave before turning to Dumbledore's desk, something of a prank that Sirius would be proud of forming in the recesses of his mind. "Can I borrow the diary for a moment?" He asked, pointing to the ruined black book. Dumbledore inclined his head, his eyes twinkling over his glasses mischievously.
Harry grinned as he picked the book up, and quickly knelt down and tugged his boot free before ripping the sock from his foot. The air of the room was cold on his bare foot, and he winced as he placed it against the cold, wooden floor beneath him.
He folded the sock carefully between the pages before slapping the book closed and tugging his boot on and rushing from the room, the diary firmly held in his hand. He took the stairs two at a time and rushed down the corridor. He sprinted past a pair of suits of armour, and a portrait of Magnus the Magnificent before he finally caught a glimpse of the pair.
"Lord Malfoy!" He called, coming to a stop just before them. The blonde man turned and looked at him, his lips pursed impatiently, and an eyebrow raised. "I have something of yours." He said, shoving the diary into his hands.
"Mine?" Lucius chuckled humourlessly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do." He answered, the corner of his lip twitching as Lucius threw the diary into Dobby's hands and stepped closer, towering over him.
"Why don't you prove it?" Lucius hissed, his upper lip twitching as his cold, grey eyes bore down on him.
"You already did." Harry whispered, leaning a little closer with a smirk.
Lucius scoffed and stepped back, peering down at the House Elf. "Come, Dobby." He commanded, turning to continue down the corridor.
Harry looked at the Elf in the filthy pillowcase and whispered, "Open it." Dobby looked up at him, his head tilted to the side, confused, as his large green eyes darted between himself and the book in his hands. Harry watched as Dobby's long fingers slowly opened the pages, the book opening on the page where Harry had hidden the sock.
He smirked as Dobby's eyes grew shiny, and his fingers trembled as he picked up the piece of clothing.
"Dobby!" Lucius called once more.
"Master has given Dobby a sock!"
"What? I didn't gi-"
Harry smirked at the long haired, pale Lord at the end of the corridor, and did his best attempt at Sirius's trademark wink.
"Master has presented Dobby with clothes – Dobby is free!" Dobby cried, hugging the sock to his chest.
"You!" Lucius hissed, and Harry fought the urge to grin. "You lost me my servant!" He snapped, pulling his wand from his cane. Immediately, Harry's own wand was pointed at the older wizard, and his magic thrummed around him.
"You shall not harm Harry Potter!" Dobby cried, leaping between the two of them. With barely a flick of his tiny wrist, Lucius was thrown down the corridor, bouncing off of the far wall, the clattering of his cane and wand on the stone shortly following.
Lucius scrambled to his feet and glared at him from down the corridor. "Your parents were meddlesome fools – mark my words Potter, you'll meet the same fate." He hissed, before marching off down the corridor. Harry scoffed before looking down at the Elf before him.
Dobby was looking up at him, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. "Harry Potter freed Dobby – how can Dobby ever repay him?"
"Just keep being you, Dobby." He grinned in return, kneeling before the Elf. "Just… stop trying to save my life."
Dobby laughed as he dove at Harry, wrapping his tiny arms around his neck – the tears of joy from the creature were reward enough.
The Great Hall was alive with the sounds of laughter, good conversation, and the usual sounds that came with eating. Forks clattered on plates, and dishes clinked together as students all around him scrambled for food.
Harry sat quietly, content to flick through the page of his copy of Tales Through The Mages with his left hand while he nibbled his food. To his left, Neville shovelled food into his mouth, barely taking the time to swallow between mouthfuls.
In the last two days, Neville's appetite had grown to unprecedented proportions – the boy was always hungry, nibbling on something or another in between meals, and when they found themselves in the Great Hall, he made sure to eat his fill.
However, he was no Ron Weasley in his ravenous hunger. While Ron's concept of table manners were theoretical at best, Neville remained the consummate future Lord of House Longbottom – it was only through knowing him as well as Harry did, that he was able to tell the difference in how he ate.
Across the way, over the edge of his book of moving and still photographs, he eyed Daphne and Tracey, talking quietly among themselves as they helped themselves to their food. Unlike him, the two of them looked to be eating a pasta dish, while he himself was picking at a spicy stir-fry with chunks of chicken, peppers, and noodles, all of which were covered in a peppery sauce.
Like the students of Hogwarts, up at the High Table, the professors were equally occupied by the plethora of food available before them. Dumbledore sat in his usual golden throne in the centre of the table, while the staff took up the rest of the table – Hagrid was only conspicuous by his absence.
Amelia had released him immediately after leaving the Chamber of Secrets weeks ago, countermanding the direct order of Cornelius Fudge himself, if Sirius was to be believed; he'd been ecstatic at the thought of his wife going toe-to-toe with the Minister. Unfortunately, the experience of having only stayed a short period of time in the infamous stronghold of Azkaban, meant that the gentle giant needed a lengthy recovery from all of the Dementor exposure.
Just the very thought of the vile things were enough to send a cold shiver down his spine – he'd had nightmares about them for a month after first learning about them from a book in the Black Library when he was seven. Foul things, the lot of them; why the Ministry kept them around was anyone's guess.
The last weeks since he had freed Dobby had seen the castle return to a sense of normalcy. Gone was the fear that had been draped over the school like a heavy blanket, and the brightening days of the beginning of summer seemed to reflect the cheery mood of the halls of Hogwarts.
It was common now, to see students flying around the grounds on their brooms in the evenings, or on the weekends, weaving around the towers alongside their winged Familiars; Harry had spent much of his free time – when he wasn't revising for the upcoming exams at Hermione's bedside with his friends – flying through the air with Hedwig, and a fully recovered Clara.
It had taken longer than he would have liked, but his fiery feathered friend had returned to him after a week, looking as strong as she ever did, and with a grown attachment to him. She had followed him into his classes on more than one occasion, much to the exasperation, or joy, depending on the professor.
He'd found himself closer than ever to his two Familiars. Hedwig would alternate between her perch by the window and his shoulder when he was in his room, and Clara would sit on the foot of his bed, her sharp talons delicately gripping the wood beneath her as her black eyes tracked his every movement.
The bond in his mind between his Familiars had deepened as well, though more-so with Clara than Hedwig. He had always considered himself close to Clara in a way that he could never quite put into words; only now, it seemed she was always there, in the back of his mind. Twice, she had appeared without any verbal calling, and twice he had nearly shit himself at the sudden, booming flames appearing above him as he walked down the stairs, or through a quiet corridor.
His eyes tracked the air above him for a moment, half expecting the creature to appear above him. When she didn't, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and speared a chunk of chicken with his fork.
A bark of laughter from the Slytherin table cause his eyes to glance over to the two gorillas, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle laughing loudly at something another in their little huddle had said; their beady eyes darted in his direction, and their laughter soon died when they caught his stare. There was something to be said about the whole school knowing you'd defeated a Basilisk.
It was when one of the group, a girl with flame-red hair, shifted in her seat on the bench, when he eyed the familiar mop of platinum blonde hair. Draco had been insufferable all year, though he'd not been so brazen since the scuffle in the Transfiguration Courtyard. It had been the mocking, and the arrogant strutting around that had constantly set Harry's teeth on edge.
The year had also seen the arrival of Draco's latest phrase, something the Weasley Twins loved to impersonate at any given opportunity. "Just wait until my father hears about this!" He would snap, at any small slight, or perceived insult, though he dared not mutter it around the professors.
Merlin, the summer couldn't arrive quickly enough.
He had no plans this summer – besides attending the Wizengamot on the second of each month. Perhaps he could spend some time at Arpton. It would be good to see Felix, and Brandon again. He could take Arlan riding along the edge of Potter's Wood; he could even visit Cochenwaith. Or, he could even venture out further than ever before and visit the likes of Potterton, or Croftswood to the north.
He'd missed Arpton, more than he ever had before. He'd chalked it up to having stayed there longer than he ever had before during the previous summer. Waking up in his large bed in the Lord's Chamber and eating with everyone in the Hall had filled him with such a profound sense of belonging. It had felt like home.
That wasn't to say that Blackwall wasn't also his home, but he was Potter, not a Black – no matter what Sirius, Remus, and Amelia did to make him feel welcome, it would never be quite the same.
He flipped the page with a flick of his finger and smiled to himself as he chewed on a mouthful of chicken, red pepper, and red onion. Perhaps, if he asked nicely, Neville and Daphne could join him this year – he'd meant to invite them last summer, but, as he was becoming all too aware, plans often had to be changed.
Pursed his lips, his eyes scanned the lines of text while his mind drifted to his friends. Daphne and Neville would no doubt be attending the same sessions of the Wizengamot as himself, and Neville had begun to learn some of the businesses of the Longbottom family last year – what would Daphne be up to? Suffering through grand courting gestures, no doubt, and holding onto what little patience remained with Astoria.
He snickered quietly to himself at the thought of the youngest Greengrass – she was due to start Hogwarts in September, and unlike her sister, he couldn't wait. Would Hogwarts be able to handle the rambunctious, energetic Astoria?
If there was one thing he was most looking forward to next year, it was that. That and Hogsmeade trips.
He'd only visited Hogsmeade once, two months before his first trip to Arpton – it had been so big, and the hundreds and hundreds of people going about their lives. Even now, it was difficult to decide which was busier; Hogsmeade, or Diagon Alley.
The trips into the town were set to be great – he'd have his friends with him, and he could finally visit some of the stores that he always heard the older students gushing about. Places like The Three Broomsticks, and Honeydukes, and-
The clearing of Dumbledore's throat halted his errant train of thought as he turned to look up at the Headmaster as he stood behind his large, gilded podium, peering down at all of them along the benches of the hall.
"I do apologise for interrupting what appear to be some delicious meals, but I would like to make this quick announcement." He said, and Harry noticed the retreating form of Madame Pomfrey through a side door – he hadn't realised she had been missing from the Head Table.
"What do you think this is about?" Neville whispered in his ear. Harry shrugged – he hadn't a clue.
"I would like you all to join me for a moment, in congratulating Professor Sprout and Madame Pomfrey, who couldn't join us tonight, for successfully harvesting the Mandrakes required for reviving those poor souls, student, and staff alike, who fell afoul of the Basilisk."
The whole hall erupted in cheers and enthusiastic clapping, while Harry blinked dumbly. He glanced back at Neville who just shrugged as he continued to clap, though a wide, excited grin split his face. "If she's harvested them, that means Hermione will be back to normal any day!" Neville cried, nudging his shoulder.
His stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot – things rarely went this well without there being some sort of catch. At the Head Table, Professor Sprout blushed heavily under the applause.
Dumbledore held up his hands slowly and the room fell silent. "Now, I have just been made aware that we have some additional mouths to feed – please, give a warm welcome back, to your friends and peers!"
Harry spun in his seat, his eyes wide as the large double doors swung open, and Hope walked in, her head held high and a grin on her face. The other students followed in her wake – he recognised Penelope Clearwater, Colin Creevey, Dickon Rivers, Ned Ibex, and finally, his bushy haired friend, Hermione.
He leapt out of his seat, scrambling around Neville as he too hurried to get to his feet, and sprinted down the row of benches. All around him were the scrapes and hurried footsteps as friends rushed to greet friends.
Hermione beamed at him, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she rushed toward him. They met somewhere in the middle, and she threw her arms around his shoulders, while he lifted her from the floor, spinning her around once as she laughed in his ear. Merlin, he'd missed that sound.
"You did it, Harry! You really did it!" She laughed as he settled her back on her feet, just as Neville appeared at his shoulder, Daphne and Tracey arriving shortly after. His eyes scanned her face as he leaned back, and her eyes danced in the flickering candlelight – around them, the excited conversations, and joyous laughter filled the air as everyone converged on the freshly revived students.
"Thank you, Harry." She beamed at him, before she stood on her toes suddenly and kissed him on the cheek shyly, her eyes fluttering.
And with that one simple action, Harry's mind began to move a mile a minute. It was as if he'd gone his entire life without magic, only to discover it in that moment. The lights of the Great Hall were brighter, the air sweeter, and the weight on his shoulders a little less. In the back of his mind, his magic sang. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before.
He blinked and grinned down at her – had her eyes always sparkled so much? Had her smile always been so lopsided?
"Thank you so much." She whispered – it was just the two of them in that moment, the rest of the Hall, and everyone else around them fading away.
"I couldn't just let Ruhxu take you away now, could I?" He asked, smiling.
"Ah yes, my gallant hero, who goes around fighting Trolls, Dark Wizards, and Basilisks! Whatever will I do with you, hm?" She asked as she wrapped her arms around him once again, burrowing her head into his chest.
He blinked as he looked down at her – had he grown in the last few months? "Whenever you need me, I'll always be there." He whispered into her hair; their arms holding the other fiercely. "No matter what."
