Revelations

When Harry went back to Hogsmeade with Selwyn's body, there was pure chaos waiting for him. The entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement seemed to be in the process of turning over every stone of the village. People in the red robes of the Magic Law Enforcement Patrol questioned the residents, while even more blue-grey-clad aurors made complicated wand movements and muttered incantations. Harry's gaze, however, was attracted by the third color that appeared here: lime green, because that was the color worn by the healers from St. Mungo's, who romped around two carries right next to the destroyed house in Exen Lane. Harry breathed in air sharply and just wanted to go over when- "HARRY!"

Something collided violently with his back and then he heard Hermione sobbing before Neville and Ron also hugged him.

"You're okay," Harry quid with relief.

"Never do that again," Ron cursed, before giving him a hard pat on the back of his head. "What did you think?"

"I'd like to know, too", said a deep voice.

Harry laboriously freed himself from the others and turned around. Kingsley Shacklebolt had a deep cut on his forehead and a plethora of blood on his chest, but it didn't seem to be his own.

"Jameson and Johnson are coming through," the minister assured, when he noticed Harry's horrified look.

"Selwyn won't," Harry said grimly, nodding to the body that was still lying next to him.

"Yes," Kingsley nodded. "Doesn't look like that. Do you need a healer?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine. What about Dawlish and this Appleby?"

"Dawlish was under Selwyn's Imperius curse," Kingsley sighed. "And Appleby was Selwyn's last follower. He's already on the way to Azkaban.'

Proudfoot, Savage and Zeas came running over and stopped when they saw Selwyn's body. Then Proudfoot stretched out his hand which Harry shook a little bewilderedly.

"Very good job, Potter," Proudfoot said in an unusually hoarse voice before addressing the minister. "Kingsley -"

"Go home, Piers," Kingsley said, patting him briefly on the shoulder. "I'll be dealing with this."

- "Thank you," muttered the head of the Auror Office, before apparating.

"What did that mean?", Ron asked quietly.

"It was Selwyn who killed his family," Kingsley said softly.

"And Williamson," Paula Zeas growled, before briefly hugging Harry. "Thank you for finishing it, Potter."

Savage nodded only grimly as he stared down at Selwyn.

"I won't get any trouble?", Harry asked quietly.

"Anger?", Zeas asked disbelievingly. "Another Order of Merlin, you mean!"

"It was self-defense, wasn't it?", Kingsley asked, and Harry nodded vigorously. "Then you don't have to worry. There will be an investigation, but self-defence justifies…that."

- "Will my memories be enough?" Harry asked succinctly, and now it was up to Kingsley to nod. Harry pulled out his wand and put it on his temples, as he had seen with Slughorn. He thought firmly about the fight with Selwyn and then slowly pulled out the copy of his memory as a silver thread, which Kingsley stowed in a vial he summoned.

"Thank you, Harry."

He put his hand on his shoulder. "Now it's really over."

It took until noon when Harry finally woke up in his warm bed in their dorm after a few hours of sleep. It wasn't until he was lying on the side and looking at the sun's rays falling through the open window, and hearing the laughter coming in from outside, that he realized it was really over. That not only Voldemort was history, but also Selwyn, the last Death Eater, the last of these monsters, who had scared them all for so long and overshadowed their lives. It was over, once and for all. No more fights, no more Dark Marks, no more deaths. Harry was breathing out slowly and suddenly found his throat narrowing as he thought of Kingsley's words. All his life he had had to look over his shoulder, and now, finally, after all these years it was over - he was free. Free to do what he wanted, without horcruxes or Death Eaters to hunt, simply and completely free. The relief was so great that he couldn't hold back the tears, he took a deep breath and then laughed softly. Harry started as two slender arms snaked around his chest from behind, a warm, well-known body pressing against him. He absorbed Ginny's scent of flowers and slowly calmed down.

"Ron will freak out when he catches you here," he said in a half-hearted attempt to make a joke.

"It's lunch time right now, so we don't have to worry about my brother," Ginny whispered back. "How are you?"

Harry turned around a bit tediously, smiling and brushing the shiny red hair out of her face. "I've never felt better, I think."

"No misguided accusations?" she quipped. "No inappropriate remorse?"

Harry shook his head. "None," he whispered softly. 'He's got what he deserves, and if I had to face it 10 more times, I'd keep doing it the way I did.'

"Good," Ginny said, gently kissing him. "It was him or you, Harry, and I love you too much for me to just lose you like that, okay?"

"I love you too," he whispered, drawing her closer to himself. "And now it's over, Ginny. No more fights, only us."

She snorted. "I think you should take a closer look at the job description of an Auror. Hermione certainly still has the brochure somewhere in her dormitory."

"It's not the same, and you know that," he said softly, kissing her. "How long do you think the others will be eating?", Harry asked with a grin.

Ginny pulled out the Marauder's Map from under his pillow with one hand, took a quick look at it, and then bent over him seductively smiling. "You'll certainly take your time..."

Harry wasn't too surprised that Professor McGonagall asked him at dinner to come to her office later. As he drove up the spiral behind the gargoyle, he had to involuntarily think that this would be his last visit to this place where he had seen so much: he remembered the conversation with Dumbledore and Sirius after Voldemort's return, the prophecy, all the evenings with Dumbledore, when they had talked about horkruxes and Voldemort's childhood... and Snape's memories and the truth they had revealed here. He knocked briefly and McGonagall's stern voice asked him in.

Everything looked as usual: the portraits of the headmasters on the walls, who looked at him with respect and affection - even Phineas Nigellus nodded to him briefly, the silver instruments and books that Dumbledore had left behind, the Sorting Hat and the Sword of Gryffindor. McGonagall sat behind the pergament-strewn desk, directly under Dumbledore's portrait. Unlike Dumbledore, Professor Snape stared at Harry with as much dislike as he had done in his lifetime. Harry nodded at him briefly. "Sir."

The simple word was enough to cause Snape to nod reluctantly. "Potter."

"Sit down, Potter," said McGonagall, who had watched the exchange with a rare smile.

"Well," she said. "I would like to hear from you personally what happened last night."

Harry sighed and then told as swiftly as possible how he had followed Selwyn and killed him. McGonagall nodded slowly and leaned slightly.

"You did the right thing, Potter," she said. "Apparently you had no choice."

- "Yes, Professor."

He sighed briefly. "What about Dawlish?"

McGonagall stomped her lips. "Professor Dawlish, as it turned out, was under Selwyn's Imperius curse, and has been since after the battle, when he tried to arrest Selwyn. This is how Selwyn has managed to hide all year round. He persuaded Dawlish to let him live in his various apartments and apply for the job here. Once he was here, his mission was to procure the Elder Wand and then kill you."

Harry nodded silently.

"It was not Zabini who searched your dormitory and summoned the Dark Mark, but Dawlish. He took the opportunity when he was alone with Zabini in his office to change his memory, so Zabini believed he had committed these crimes."

Harry sighed. "How could this happen? Dawlish is an Auror, he should be strong enough to shake off an Imperius curse."

McGonagall nodded. 'He used to be, but John Dawlish is no longer the man he was years ago. Dumbledore's confusion curse has plagued him for half a year, and then he was at St Mungo's for several weeks because of Dirk Cresswell and Augusta Longbottom, which didn't do him much good either. That's why Kingsley was willing to let him work at Hogwarts, even though he really needed every experienced Auror."

- "What about this Appleby?"

"Selwyn's last follower," McGonagall sighed. "Apparently it was he who murdered Jugson for Selwyn because he wanted to get out."

"And Williamson?", Harry asked quietly.

"Selwyn killed him," the Headmistress said. "And Nott wounded Zeas."

- "What about Nott's son?", Harry quipped. "Did he have nothing to do with it?"

"No, Potter," McGonagall said succinctly. "Theodore Nott's only contribution to this unfortunate story was to attack you after his father died."

She folded her hands and sharply mustered him. "Professor Dawlish will leave school after the end of term, Potter."

"I'm not surprised," Harry said. "The post is cursed, isn't it?"

"The curse is broken, Potter," McGonagall growled. "Voldemort is dead. Professor Dawlish's failure has nothing to do with it."

"Well, you won't know until the next one starts his second year," Harry said, smiling.

"Yes," McGonagall growled. "That's why it should be someone who can take good care of himself."

- "Do you already have a candidate in mind?", Harry asked curiously.

McGonagall nodded slowly and showed another rare smile. "Indeed, Potter. A very suitable candidate."

Harry shrugged. "Who?"

"A natural in Defence Against the Dark Arts," McGonagall said. "Although he is still quite young, this is unlikely to disturb the board of governors."

Harry frowned. "Do I know him?"

- "Merlin's beard, Potter," McGonagall growled, now her old self again. "Use your common sense! I'm talking about you!"

"Me?", Harry asked, stunned.

"Of course," Professor McGonagall quid. "Who would be better suited than you?"

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"You'd be a great teacher, Harry," McGonagall continued - Harry noticed she had switched to his first name - "just look at what you taught the members of your defense group. Or your NEWT exam."

"What about that?", Harry asked, confused.

"What about it," McGonagall moaned. "Potter, Professor Tofty has never seen anything like it before, and he usually never talks about exams before the marks are out! You are the first choice for the post - take it!"

Harry swallowed, but then he slowly shook his head. "I am honored, Professor, but... I am..."

- "What?" she interrupted him. "Too young? At twelve, you killed the largest basilisk mankind ever heard of. At thirteen, you were able to produce a corporeal Patronus! At fourteen-"

Harry shook his head. "It has nothing to do with me being too young," he said. "Okay, maybe a little bit. But... I want to be auror, Professor. I want to make a difference."

"You can do that as a teacher, too", McGonagall said softly.

"I know that, Professor," Harry said. "And maybe at some point I want to become a teacher, but now I want to help Kingsley turn the ministry around. To turn this society around, because now we have the chance to do so. Who knows if it will be so easy to make a difference ever again."

McGonagall sighed and nodded slowly. "As you wish, Potter."

Harry got up a little embarrassed. "Professor, Hermione will tell you the same thing if you offer her the job."

McGonagall smiled thinly. "Good to see that you're finally starting to use your head, Potter."

Harry grinned. "Good night, Professor."

Harry's final weeks at Hogwarts went by as if in flight, proving to be peaceful and happy. He couldn't remember ever being so carefree and happy in his life while he was at the lake with the others, visiting Hagrid, and attending the final classes where the teachers stopped giving the seventh-years homework - the exams were over. And at the same time, it was time to say goodbye. Goodbye to visits to Hagrid, evenings by the fire in the common room, to all the hours on the Quidditch field. The last game and therefore also training was already behind Harry, and a week after the end of the exams also the last Hogsmeade weekend was coming up.

After a short detour to George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Ginny went over to the Three Broomsticks, where they celebrated the end of Ginny's and Luna's exams. Ginny took a sip of butter beer and then sighed softly. "I can't believe we're here together for the last time," she said.

"We're going to visit you next year," Harry assured her.

"It's not the same thing," she muttered.

"Where's Neville?", Hermione asked, to distract Ginny.

Luna giggled. "He meets with Hannah at Madam Puddifoot's."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look that said clearly "better-him-than-us."

"Don't worry, Ginny," she continued. "We will have a lot of fun without these three."

"Yeah," Ron said with a grin. "Will you try again next year as a Quidditch commentator, Luna? Seamus is leaving, too."

"If he didn't fail everything," Ginny muttered.

"You can't fail everything, Ginny," Ron said. "Even Goyle did two OWLs."

"That doesn't mean he makes the NEWTs," Hermione said, as always nervous when they came to talk about their exams.

"When do you get your results?", Luna asked.

"Before the end of the school year," Hermione said absently, and Harry and Ron swallowed their butter beer vigorously.

"What?", Ron coughed, horrified.

Hermione shook her head in dismay. "Ron, you have five older brothers-"

She broke off when Fred's name was in the room.

"Fred and George dropped out before," Ron said bluntly. "And I wouldn't have dreamed of asking Percy when he got his results."

"So we'll get the results soon?", Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "On the penultimate day of term is our graduation ceremony, and it doesn't make sense without grades, right? In addition, we all have to apply, and that is not possible without results."

- "Fantastic," Ron muttered dryly. "And I thought I wouldn't have to worry until the summer - Professor Lockhart? "

The others looked up bewildered and stared at the blond-haired man, dressed in a peach-blue cape, who had just sat down at the table next to them.

"Hello, hello!" said Gilderoy Lockhart enthusiastically, standing up and dropping on the free chair opposite Luna. 'We know each other, don't we? You've visited me!"

Ron nodded rather dismayed, even though they had run into Lockhart at St. Mungo's rather by chance. "Uh, yes."

- "How are you, Professor?" asked Harry, while Hermione turned bright red.

"Very good, outstanding!" said Lockhart with his manic grin, in which you could see every single, white molar tooth.

"Have you, um, run off?", Ginny asked hesitantly.

"Run off?"

"You know, Professor," Ron said. "From the hospital."

Lockhart laughed happily. "But no, young lady, why do you believe that? No, I was released last week!"

"You're healed?", Harry asked, stunned.

"Uh, no, no," Lockhart said with a chuckle. "My memory will probably never return, but I am again able to, as one says so beautifully - to take care of myself."

Ron scratched his nose a little embarrassed when he heard that Lockhart would never fully recover from the ill-advised memory charm that his broken wand had given him.

"And what are you going to do now, Professor," Harry asked.

Lockhart suddenly jumped up enthusiastically. "Merlin's beard, you're Harry Potter!"

"Of course, Professor," Luna said dreamily. "Who else would he be?"

"An honor to meet you," Lockhart said, shaking Harry's hand enthusiastically. "Such an honor - have dreamed of it since I have heard of you -"

Ginny giggled behind her hands.

"What do you want to do now, Professor?", Harry asked again, as Lockhart calmed down to the point where he could sit down again.

"No idea!", Lockhart said cheerfully. "I'm not really good at anything, you know?"

- "Who would have thought that," muttered Madam Rosmerta, who brought them five new butterbeers.

"Would you bring me a drink like this, my lady?", Lockhart asked, smiling. "It seems to be delicious."

To general astonishment, Madam Rosmerta suddenly turned bright red and nodded nervously before going back to the bar.

"I think she likes me," Lockhart quietly confided to them.

Harry couldn't help but burst into loud laughter, joined by the others. "I think you could be right, Professor."

"But how do you want to make a living, Professor?", Ron asked.

"Well, I obviously made some reserves before my accident," Lockhart said, somewhat modestly. "And I thought about maybe writing a book, I was told that I had already succeeded with that in the past."

"You could write for the Quibbler," Luna said enthusiastically. "Daddy is always looking for reporters!"

Lockhart slightly wrinkled his face. "Unfortunately, you don't get a fee with the Quibbler, Miss - Lovegood, I guess?"

- "Ouch," Harry hissed in amazement as someone kicked his his shin under the table, and looked at Hermione in confusion, who looked at him significantly. "What?"

She twisted her eyes and formed the word 'Rita'. Harry realized what she meant, but he thought about it a short time before turning to Lockhart. Could the former fraud be trusted? A new book from him would undoubtedly attract enough attention to be noticed by the public, and Lockhart seemed to have changed honestly... and although he had stopped the publication of Rita's book for the time being, her lies had nevertheless been widely spread to harm him. It was high time that the truth came to light- well, at least the part of the truth that the public was allowed to know about.

"Professor," Harry said. "I have a better proposal for you. How would you like to write a book about me?"

Lockhart stared at him for a moment as shocked as Ron and Ginny, before nodding enthusiastically. "It would be an honor to me, Mr Potter!"

"Harry," Ginny said sharply. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

He nodded briefly. "It's better if we control what people know."

Two hours later they left the Three Broomsticks after Harry had answered several of Lockhart's questions and arranged a meeting with him after the end term. Luna had already gone back to the castle after apparently discovering a Wrackspurt on the street in the middle of Harry's account of the Philosopher's Stone.

"Have you heard anything from Tudgeberry?", Ginny asked as they walked along the main street.

"Rita has to pay me a hefty compensation for the book," Harry said grimly. "His letter came this morning. She is forbidden to ever write anything about me again."

"Victory it is again, then," Ron grinned.

Harry shrugged. "I would have preferred Tudgeberry to have got her for what she did with Bathilda Bagshot, but that was apparently impossible."

He turned into a side street.

"Where are you going?", Ginny asked, confused.

"I want to show you something," Harry said calmly.

"Harry," Hermione said. "You don't have to, honestly."

"Yes, I do, Hermione," Harry said.

Ron and Ginny exchanged a bewildered look as Harry led them to the deserted cemetery of Hogsmeade, past the graves of long-dead witches and wizards, until he stopped in front of a simple grey stone. The others took a sharp breath when they saw the inscription on it.

Severus Snape

9th January 1960 – 2nd May 1998

Always.

"Always?" Ron asked, bewildered, after a while.

"Not important," Harry said softly.

For a while, they all stared at the grave of the man they had all hated so much during his lifetime without really knowing him, without realizing what sacrifices he had made. Snape had not been an innocent man, Harry knew that. He would never forgive him for telling Voldemort about the prophecy, just as Snape had not been able to forgive himself. And then there were all the little things with which he had made life in Hogwarts more difficult for them: the trickery in the classroom, the incident when Malfoy had Hermione's teeth growing, the attempt to poison Neville's toad - that had been more than performing as a double agent. And yet Harry knew he owed Severus Snape infinitely. From his first Quidditch game, when he had saved him from being thrown off his broom by Quirrell, to the events of the last three years, the man had tried to protect Harry, even though he could never suffer him. Neither would Harry ever like him - but he knew that Severus Snape had been arguably the bravest man he would ever meet.

"Why are we here, Harry?", Ginny asked.

"Snape is not everything that's buried here," Hermione whispered.

Ginny and Ron shrugged slightly as they understood.

Harry nodded gently. "No one will look for it here."

"Yes," Ron said, stunned. "I didn't even know where you buried Snape."

Harry bit his teeth. "Not even Rita mentioned the grave in her book," he said. 'And I'm not going to tell Lockhart either. Let Snape rest in peace, and the Elder Wand with him."