One of Harry's eyelids painfully cracked open a touch as he felt himself wake. There was a sharp stab of light, and Harry was forced to close it. As the drowsiness of sleep slowly began to wear off, Harry's eyelid opened up a smidge. Above him, through the sleep and moisture in his eye, he could just make out a glint of golden light, glimmering above him.

How odd.

His eyes closed, he listened closely for any hint of where he was. He certainly couldn't hear any indications of being kidnapped and trapped in some horrible dungeon by a dark wizard. Of course, he had no idea what precisely that would sound like, but he decided to give wherever he was now the benefit of the doubt.

Groaning at the sudden intake of light into his sensitive eyes, Harry forced his eyelids open. Above him, he could just make out a…a pair of glasses?

He blinked several more times to get the detritus out of his eyes. Slowly, the benevolently smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view.

"Good morning Harry." He said affably as he stared down at Harry.

"Professor." Harry acknowledged, still trying to get his bearings. From his hospital bed, he looked around what he could see of the room, trying to gauge his whereabouts.

"You're in the Hospital Ward, Harry." Dumbledore supplied, his face still locked in that loathsomely friendly smile of his.

Harry absorbed that bit of information for a moment, the gears in his mind slowly beginning to turn.

"My friends." His heart lurched, remembering the sickening crack of Hermione's head hitting the stone.

"Are fine, dear boy. Mr Weasley, however, may not remain that way if he keeps trying to break in here without Madame Pomfrey's permission."

There was a noise of agreement from somewhere behind the curtains.

"They have both been very worried about you." Dumbledore then gestured to the bedside table. "Tokens from your friends and admirers." He explained as Harry blinked stupidly at the large pile of flowers, confectionaries, and other miscellaneous items.

"Oh…I didn't realise I had that many." Harry said faintly, still trying to recover from the unprecedented show of support from the student body.

"Oh yes. They are, it seems, rather fond of you."

"Well that's..good." Harry said lamely, still unsure how to respond.

Dumbledore just smiled and nodded, waiting patiently for Harry to gather his thoughts.

Harry took a moment to collect himself. "Professor..what happens now? What happened to the Stone? And Quirrell? And-"

Dumbledore put up a hand to stem the flow of questions threatening to bubble up out of Harry.

"Your late Professor did not have the Stone long enough to use it, thanks to your efforts. But nevertheless, it has been decided the Stone must be destroyed. Such a risk cannot be allowed to survive."

"And Nicholas Flamel?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up, and his face veritably glowed with pride. "You know about Nicholas?" He asked with delight. "My, Harry, you do work quickly. Nicholas is of a mind with myself on this. He has enough elixir stored up that he and Perenelle can get their affairs in order, before moving on to the next great adventure."

Harry nodded, eager to move on. "What happened after I.." He blushed in embarrassment. "You know."

"Well, when I arrived, you had very nearly defeated Quirrell on your own." His face again flushed with pride. "Nevertheless, I feared I was too late. The magic that protected you…it is a blessing, but it can also be a curse. I was afraid we'd lost you. Your friend Mr. Weasley was good enough to pull you off of him before it was too late."

"I suppose it's too much to ask that we managed to destroy You-Know-Who as well?"

Dumbledore smiled, this time sadly. "I'm afraid so. He abandoned his follower as soon as I arrived. Dark Wizards are not known for their loyalty."

Harry rested his head back on the pillow he'd propped himself up on. It was too much to hope for, to have this whole affair tied up neatly in a bow before he'd finished his first year.

"And Harry, do call him Voldemort. Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself."

Harry stopped himself from rolling his eyes. It was not the first time he'd heard that little pearl of wisdom. Although, he supposed if one was as powerful as Dumbledore, they had a free pass to say whatever they liked, regardless of what other people wanted.

Suddenly, a thought struck Harry. "How long have I been in here?" He asked, mildly worried to hear the answer.

Dumbledore did not answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at a clock on the wall behind Harry.
"Four and a half days." He answered after a moment. "The castle will be excited to hear you're awake. Everybody has been very worried about you. You were brought in with an acute case of magical exhaustion, along with your rather unique medical condition. It is to be expected. You pushed yourself to the limit." He finished reprovingly, looking down severely at Harry.

Harry, at least, had the good grace to blush. "Sorry." He mumbled shamefacedly. "What happened to Neville? Did he find you?" He asked, eager to get off this topic.

Harry missed the flicker of guilt on Dumbledore's face. "Yes, Mr. Longbottom found me, although it took him longer than one would have expected. It appears he has a knack for finding misfortune in the dungeons. Nevertheless, he found me in the end, and I came as quickly as I could."

Harry nodded. He had wondered why it had taken so very long for anybody to come to his aid. Of course Neville was to blame for it.

"There's just one more thing, Professor."

"Fire away."

Harry was momentarily thrown off by this turn of phrase. It was strange to hear such a muggle phrase coming out of the great wizard's lips, like a frog speaking Spanish. "There was a mirror, sir. It showed me…something."

Dumbledore's face drooped a little. "Ahh, yes. That was the Mirror of Erised. It is both a great blessing, and a great curse. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts."

Harry lurched a little at that. That had been his greatest desire? Not Minister for Magic, not a Quidditch legend, hell, defeating the Dark Lord had barely been a sidenote to the whole thing! Did he really want nothing more than to be free at Hogwarts and be friends with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and- oh. His parents were there. Draco had been there. Riight.

Dumbledore misinterpreted the reason behind his student's face of disappointment. "I'm afraid it is not a vision of the future, nor is it a portal to another world. But it still has value, Harry. You would do well to consider what it showed you."

"It's just that it…it showed me my parents, and..yeah."

Pain showed on Dumbledore's face for a moment, before being replaced by a façade of geniality. "I see. I am sorry. I understand it would be hard for you to see such a thing. Take comfort in knowing that they loved you very dearly. For that is why you have this power, you see. It is love, Harry, the most powerful of all magics. Your mother protected you then, and she protects you still. Your father too. They would be proud of the person you are becoming."

Despite himself, Harry could not prevent the small glow of warmth at the Headmaster's words. "I..see. Thanks, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled, and stood for a moment, readying to leave. "Do you have any other questions, Harry?"

Harry cocked his head for a moment, before shaking it. He knew everything he needed. Dumbledore gave him one last smile, before flicking the curtain back, and leaving.

Harry, now left alone in the small, curtained off suite, turned to look at the massive pile of gifts he'd been presented with. A box caught his eye, and he smiled as he reached for a box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured beans. He tore off the packaging and opened the cardboard top. Slowly, he reached down, his fingers wrapping around a promising-looking bean. He pulled it out of the box, inspecting it with a critical eye. It was yellow, with flecks of grey dotted around it. Banana? Or perhaps honey? He sniffed it, but it had no distinct scent. Shrugging, he popped it in his mouth. Then, almost immediately, he spat it out onto the floor. He glared at it, a grimace on his face. Earwax.

Harry was quite sure Madame Pomfrey was a nice woman. She had a motherly air to her, and she clearly cared very much for the students. Unfortunately, she ruled over the Medical Ward with an iron fist that even the Dark Lord would struggle to match. It was the morning after the day he'd woken up, and he'd spent the intermittent period lying in his hospital bed, bored and restless. His only source of entertainment had been the array of sweets and cards he'd received from a multitude of sources. There had been some cards from Ron and the Weasleys, including a card from Percy explaining his disappointment at Harry's breaking of school rules. There had also been an avalanche of sweets, which he had happily gorged himself on until Pomfrey had confiscated them, leaving him even more bored than he had been before. Sleep hadn't come easily. Somehow the bed had been more and more uncomfortable the longer he had been in it, but eventually his exhaustion had overtaken him. Now, however, he was hungry, unhappy, and absolutely prepared to begin a prison break if he didn't get out soon.

"Please, Madame Pomfrey? I'm bored out of my mind, here!" He complained, endeavouring to look as innocent and adorable as possible.

Pomfrey searched his scrunched-up face for a moment, presumably looking for indications he was planning on fighting a dragon as soon as he walked out the door. After a moment of silence, she relented. "Very well, Mr Potter, you may go. But if I see you even begin waving your wand it'll be rright back in here with you, understand?"

Harry nodded meekly, not willing to risk saying something that would keep him held back. Reluctantly, Pomfrey crossed over to the door, and opened it to the corridor. Harry ripped the covers off his body and clambered out of the hospital bed, almost throwing himself onto his feet in his haste. He nearly sprinted across the floor, ignoring the light-headedness he was feeling from the onrush of blood to his head. As he passed beneath the frame of the door, Pomfrey just looked at him in consternation. "Not a wave of your wand, Mr. Potter." She reminded him as he rushed past.

Harry ignored her. He knew his limits. Ignoring the overwhelming amount of evidence against that statement, he stalked down the halls of the castle. He had spent all of yesterday cramped up in the medical ward, and he was sick and tired of just lying around. He took a deep breath of the castle air, enjoying the distinct lack of potion smells that had been a constant companion for the last day.

The joys of freedom, however, were quickly replaced by a gnawing sense of anxiety in his belly. When he had defeated Quirrell as a first year, the young Harry Potter had woken up to find his already poor reputation had taken a nosedive amongst three of the four houses. In the absence of any official explanation for the events on that fateful day after exams, the school had concocted rumours to explain his mysterious injuries, and the strange events that had unfolded behind the door on the third floor. Some claimed that Harry had been kidnapped, while others claimed he had gone mad and murdered p-p-poor Professor Quirrell. One particularly far-fetched theory claimed that he had gone back in time and been responsible for the murder of Nobby Leach. None, of course, had been close to the truth, but even segments of his own house had turned against him. Not in public, of course. In public, Slytherins always stuck together. But in private, they had ignored him, and anybody who associated themselves with him.

"Potter."

Harry was rudely jarred from his thoughts as two tall, gangly redheads walked out in from him, cutting him off from his path.

"We've been mean to ask you something."

"We're very curious, me and George."

"We were hoping you would enlighten us."

Harry held up a hand to stem the flow of the Twin's little act. "I know what this is about."

"As you should! You hurt our feelings, you know."

"It was painful."

"Traumatising, I doubt we'll ever be quite the same again."

"I haven't slept in days."

"Weeks, even."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, I know I overreacted, but there was something happening in the castle and I had to get to the bottom of it so-

"-so you decided to punch my brother on the nose?" George (?) asked, the smile on his face dying for a moment.

"I thought he punched you on the nose."

"Well, whoever you punched on the nose, it hurt."

"It hurt that ickle Harrykins would even think about something so violent."

"So depraved."

"Psychotic, really."

Harry rolled his eyes at their little game. He had to admit though…they had a point. Being sleep-deprived and on edge was no excuse for punching somebody over a frankly minor prank. He frowned a little. Being a Gryffindor really was starting to rub off on him. And he wasn't sure he entirely liked it.

Swallowing his pride, he sighed heavily. "Look, I really am sorry. I overreacted, because I was anxious and angry about what I thought was happening in the castle. I took it out on one of you, and it was stupid of me. Am I forgiven?"

The twins looked at each other for a moment, exchanging whole sentences with their eyes in that creepy way they did sometimes.

"Well, Fred? Do you think we can grant ickle Harry some leeway in light of recent events?"

"He'll have to make it up to us."

"He did steal away our precious professor, after all."

"Tragic. Never again shall Hogwarts see the like."

"Heartrending."

"Just awful."

"What would you say would be a sufficient trade for our forgiveness?"

"It'd have to be good."

"Brilliant, really."

"Just absolutely smashing."

Simultaneously, they clicked their fingers in faux realisation.

"The Quidditch Cup!"

"First game's against Slytherin."

"And we can't lose to them again."

"Winning would just about make up for all this."

Harry held up his hand again in the universal motion for 'stop'. "Don't worry about the Cup. I can promise you this. I'm going to be the best damn seeker you have ever seen."

Fred and George grinned.

Walking into the Common Room after his encounter with the Weasley twins was, frankly, entirely underwhelming. He was half-expecting the entire house to be there, to either congratulate him or hurl insults at him, depending on what the rumour mill had churned up in his absence. However, as he walked through the portrait, braced for a storm of questions and demands, he was surprised by how coolly he was greeted. Apparently, the majority of the House was in class. A few older students, sat by the study tables, nodded at him amiably. One flashed a grin and a thumbs up at him as he walked by, but on the most part the whole affair was dreadfully subdued.

If he was being entirely honest with himself, he had been half-hoping for a massive celebration of his triumph upon his heroic return. The entire house would turn out, cheering for him. McGonagall would crack a smile. Drinks all around, coins being thrown over him. Perhaps a few pretty girls chanting "we love Potter.", the humble masses yearning for the slightest bit of attention from him. He shook his head, clearing the images from his mind. Ridiculous. He didn't do this for attention or plaudits.

Mostly.

He began walking up the common room stairs, trudging up to his room where Hedwig and his things would be. Staying in the same pair of robes for a day, possibly more, had left him itching for his dressing gown. Coming to the door to the first year's dormitory, he pulled on the handle. The door didn't move. Harry frowned. He didn't realise there were locks on these doors. As far as he knew, the doors were magically enchanted to prevent anybody not authorised from coming in. He pulled again. The door moved, but it was as if there was something barring it on the other side. Harry pulled out his wand. Sometimes enchantments were a bit odd. The magic might be confused, since he had been asleep for days and had been in contact with strange magical artifacts, like the stone and the mirror. He prodded the door a little, hoping that a little spark of magic unmistakably his would jog its memory. Ignoring the reproving voice of Madame Pomfrey in the back of his head, he channelled a smidge of magic through his wand, which let off a few red sparks. The sparks hit the brown wood of the door, rolling down it like raindrops on a window. When they reached the floor, they each faded away into the aether.

Harry once again reached for the door handle. As he reached for it, however, it pulled back from his hand. In fact, the entire door pulled away from him, revealing the room beyond.

"CONGRATULATIONS!" A mighty host yelled from within, as little streamers and sparks were shot from wands. Above the door, a banner suddenly came into existence, sporting the slogan "Welcome Back Harry!"

From behind him, Harry could hear the heavy footfalls of a large group of people (or an elephant) running up the steps behind him. Consequently, he was quickly flooded by Gryffindors both ahead of and behind him. A far cry from the silent atmosphere pervading the area just moments before, there was now a general hubbub of cheers, shouting, and general hooliganery. Even Percy Weasley, distinguishable by his height and red hair, was in the crowd, a smile on his face. "To the Common Room, everybody, go on, all of you!" He shouted, a cry quickly taken up by the other Prefects as they chivvied the crowd down, to where space was not at a premium.

Despite the din, Harry managed to talk to several people over the next few minutes.

Parvati and Lavender had both given him a massive hug, and several variations of "we were so worried about you!" Seamus and Dean Thomas had settled for giving him grins and a thumbs up. The Quidditch Team had also offered congratulations for "Whatever happened down there.", although Wood had warned him not to do it ever again; especially if there was a game afterwards. The team had then taken up roles as impromptu bodyguards, protecting the short, skinny Seeker from the jostling and mayhem of the room.

Ron had, of course, been allowed through the cordon. He'd given Harry a massive grin.

"Harry! You're alive! Blimey, you had us worried there for a bit, mate."

Harry had been just about to reply when he had noticed that the whole room had gone silent. Looking around, he had stood on his tippy-toes and craned his neck to see what had killed the vibe of the room. Whilst he couldn't see over the freakish tallness of Gryffindor House, he did not have to wait long for his question to be answered.

"As excited as we all are about Mr. Potter's return, the celebrations must wait. It is near enough to ten o'clock, and I expect you all have classes to go to, or homework to do." An old, slightly accented woman's voice echoed about the silent room. Nobody moved. "Well, go on, off with you." Reluctantly, the assembled throng began to dissipate, heading to dormitories or out the portal to classes.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter?" McGonagall spoke again. "It is good to have you back with us. You gave us all quite a fright."

"Thanks, Professor." Harry smiled. "It's nice to be back home."