When the Knight Bus finally stopped at Hogsmeade, Harry bolstered himself and shook his head. "Hogwarts," he insisted.
"We can't go on the grounds, mate," the conductor explained.
"Get as close as possible," he said. The driver shrugged and maneuvered until the Bus was about two feet away from the front gates.
"That's as good as it gets," the conductor said. Harry reached into his pocket with the bleeding arm and fumbled for his money bag. He gave the whole thing to the conductor, then stumbled off the bus and through the gates as though the grass outside Hogwarts was on fire.
It struck him as extraordinary that everyone was still at the Quidditch pitch, watching the final Task. Harry had no idea how long he'd been gone, but it had to have been a few hours at least.
While he was on the bus everything had been dim, but now that he was back at Hogwarts, his senses were almost painfully alert. He needed to find someone that would be able to help him. Someone who would make everything that had just happened go away. He neared the stands and swayed, trying to remember where his friends had been sitting, where Snape or Dumbledore might be, if his snake had found anyone or managed to raise the alarm. He felt something wet running down his cheek and touched it. His fingers came back red, and he stared at them. He had honestly thought that would be salt water.
"Harry? Oh fuck- Harry!"
Harry recognised the voice and looked up as the person grabbed his arm to steady him. It was Draco, eyes wide with alarm and concern.
Harry staggered back, wrenching his arm away in his haste to escape. He landed in the grass, jostling his various wounds, his heart pounding almost as hard as it had in the graveyard. Draco reached for him, but something about the expression on Harry's face must have made him think better of it. He backed off a few feet and hovered, looking between Harry and the stands and practically wringing his hands.
Fortunately, Draco hadn't been the only person to spot Harry's arrival.
"Draco, what - Oh fuck." Blaise dropped to his knees in front of Harry, eyes darting over his bleeding arm and shoulder and back up to his face. "Pansy, go get Snape."
"Blaise," Harry said in a small voice. "He's back, Blaise."
Blaise reached out and touched Harry's undamaged shoulder carefully. "Who's back, Harry?"
"Voldemort."
Blaise snatched his hand back and stared at Harry, horrified. Behind him, Draco made a wordless sound and sat abruptly in the grass.
"Harry, what?"
"He's back," Harry repeated. Blaise needed to understand. "Voldemort's back, he's back, he's alive, I saw him, he killed Karkaroff-"
Someone made an inarticulate sound of horror. Pansy had returned with Snape and Dumbledore. Snape knelt next to Harry and peered into his eyes.
"Harry," he said calmly. "Where are you hurt?"
"My head hurts... it hurts a lot," Harry explained in a tiny voice. "It was Voldemort, he did it."
"Yes, Harry," Snape said. "But where else are you hurt?"
Harry blinked at him. "I hurt everywhere," he said, slipping unconsciously into Parseltongue. "And my shoulder and my arm and my chest and my... my head. It hurts everywhere."
Snape nodded and stood, lifting Harry carefully and setting him on his feet. A small crowd of curious onlookers had formed by now, and news was starting to spread about what Harry was saying. People were muttering to each other, staring at him.
"Severus, take him to the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore ordered. "I will be there shortly. Do not let Pomfrey feed him any sleeping potions."
Dumbledore arrived in Harry's private room about an hour later with Sirius and Remus at his heels, their faces pale and strained.
Snape sneered at them from the corner he was leaning in, but stayed silent as they swooped down on Harry.
Harry had been cleaned up and healed as best as Pomfrey could manage. His shoulder and chest were still in bandages and there would be a deep scar on his arm, but all of his other physical wounds had been easily fixed.
Sirius took one look at Harry and pulled him into a tight hug, though mindful of his injuries. Harry pressed against Sirius' shoulder and let his face collapse into the misery he'd been suppressing. Just for a moment, but Sirius held onto him long enough for Harry to regain his composure before pulling away.
"What happened?" he asked, subsiding into one of the chairs by Harry's bedside. Remus took the other, looking equally concerned.
"Voldemort's back," Harry said, feeling almost blank. Dumbledore stepped forward.
"I am sorry, Harry," he said. "But I need to know everything, from the beginning."
Harry looked down at his lap, then back up at Sirius who was watching him with sympathy.
"Maybe we should wait until morning, Dumbledore," he said uncertainly. He reached out and gripped Harry's hand, and Harry gripped back, grateful.
"We must act quickly," Dumbledore disagreed. "We need to know the details of what we are facing." He turned to Harry and spoke gently. "Numbing the pain will only make it worse when you have to feel it, Harry. Tonight, you have managed to survive a situation that has defeated fully trained wizards. I must ask that you struggle through one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."
Harry took a deep breath, shaking a bit. Even the calming potions Pomfrey had already forced on him weren't helping right now. Snape took a step forward and spoke.
"Your Occlumency walls are still intact, Mr. Potter," he said. "You have done admirably under the greatest duress imaginable."
Harry smiled a bit at that. With Sirius' hand still in his grip, he took a deep breath and began to explain. "Poliakoff was polyjuiced," he began. "All year, he's been Professor Quirrell in disguise."
Snape made an aborted motion with one hand. Dumbledore leaned forward. "You are positive?" he asked, his blue eyes intense.
Harry nodded. "And Professor Moody isn't himself, either. He's been someone named 'Crouch', polyjuiced as Moody all year. They've been gathering information." Sirius' grip on his hand tightened. "I had a headache so I left the stands, and Quirrell Imperiused me and dragged me off campus and apparated us to this graveyard..."
He told the story through, though he faltered several times, in particular at the conversation about Draco and when describing the way Karkaroff had been murdered. His voice shook as he described his 'duel' with Voldemort and the strange way their wands had connected, which caused Dumbledore to explain the Reverse Spell effect.
After that, it was a matter of Harry explaining briefly about the Knight Bus and his walk up to the pitch, and then Dumbledore spoke some warm words about Harry's resilience and abilities, and recommended a Sleeping Draught. Snape swept out during Dumbledore's reassurances without a word to anyone.
Pomfrey bustled in and fed him a few more potions, and Sirius and Remus stepped out into the main hospital wing to have a word with Dumbledore. A crowd of Harry's friends replaced Pomfrey when she left.
"Madam Pomfrey said only a few of us could come in right now," Hermione explained as she and Dudley and Blaise and Pansy crowded around his bed. "Or else everyone else would be here too."
"You were right about Poliakoff, Pansy," Harry said. "He was a Death Eater."
Pansy put a hand to her mouth, alarmed. "What?"
"Yeah," Harry said. One of the potions Pomfrey had fed him was making him feel spacey and sleepy. "He was Professor Quirrell. And Professor Moody was Crouch. And there was a house elf and a baby but the baby was Voldemort. And then they put him in a potion and all the Death Eaters came and one of them was Draco's dad and he laughed at me when Voldemort crucioed me and he helped kill the Headmaster of Durmstrang and then our wands reversed and I got away on the Knight Bus."
His friends fell silent, all of them staring at Harry with varying levels of horror and confusion.
"I didn't follow any of that," Dudley said eventually. "But it sounded awful."
"Draco's father was there?" Blaise looked faintly sick.
"He and Quirrell said Draco only wanted to be friends with me so I would join the Dark Lord," Harry said dreamily. The idea didn't hurt right now; it was too distant.
"Oh, Harry, that's not true," Pansy said, taking his hand, but Harry barely heard her. He was floating away into sleep.
Harry left the hospital wing the evening after next, slowing down as he walked through the main wing to examine the sleeping figures of the real Poliakoff and Mad-Eye Moody. They both looked weak and exhausted, their hair cut in strange patches.
Sirius was waiting for him just outside the doors, and slung an arm around his shoulder as they walked together.
"Remus had to go already; job for Dumbledore," Sirius said. "We're getting the old crowd back together. I wanted to say goodbye before I left though."
Harry nodded and leaned into Sirius' side as they walked.
"Dumbledore left those wards up," he continued as they descended a set of stairs toward Slytherin. "Otherwise Snuffles'd come visit you at Hogwarts all the time next term."
"Snuffles?"
Sirius grinned. "My animagus form. Can't pass through the gates without Dumbledore's permission because of it."
They had reached the Entrance Hall, and Sirius stopped, turning to face Harry.
"I also wanted to get this back to you," he said, producing a well-battered piece of parchment. Harry, who had been walking on autopilot until Sirius stopped, blinked at it for a second before recognition dawned.
"The Map!" he said. "Where did you find it?"
"It was in the fake-Moody's things," Sirius said. "I recognised it and thought you might want it back sooner rather than later."
Harry smiled at Sirius gratefully and tucked the Map into one of his inner pockets. He'd have to be much more careful with it from now on.
Apparently Draco had tried to visit Harry while he was still in the hospital wing. According to Pomfrey, Harry had refused. Harry honestly didn't remember, but then most of his stay was a blur.
Draco was not to be deterred, it seemed. He caught Harry alone in their dormitory the next morning and hovered as Harry got dressed for breakfast.
"Harry, I'm sorry," Draco said, standing next to his own bed and staring at him. "For everything. Are you okay?"
Harry pulled his shoes on and tied them.
"Harry-"
"Your father was there, Draco," Harry said as he straightened up. "He laughed at me when Voldemort cast the Cruciatius curse on me. He helped kill the headmaster of Durmstrang for being a traitor."
Draco's face went ashen. "I'm not my father," he started, but Harry interrupted him.
"Yes, but you forget that I'vebeen at Hogwarts all year, too." He picked up his bag. "At this point, you're close enough. Too close."
Dumbledore had made an announcement at breakfast the morning after the Task, and the looks Harry was getting were conflicted. It seemed like no one really wanted to believe him. A meeting with Dumbledore the next day confirmed it.
"Minster Fudge is refusing to cooperate," Dumbledore said. "He doesn't think that the disappearance of the Headmaster of Durmstrang and your word are enough."
Harry opened his mouth, but Dumbledore raised a hand. "I do," he said. "And I already have plans in motion. Which is what this meeting is about, Harry. It is vital that you go back to Privet Drive this summer."
"No, but..." Harry said, feeling something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. "Sirius and Remus said I could stay at their house."
"I have had to call on them along with many others," Dumbledore said. "Neither of them will spend much time in Devon this summer. More to the point, you will be better protected at your uncle's house, especially after we update the wards. We will be doing so within the next week."
Dumbledore explained in detail about the blood protection from his mother, and how Dudley was a conduit for that.
"The wards were originally set to your aunt," Dumbledore explained. "But we will transfer them to Dudley instead. Your uncle and cousin have already agreed. You will need to spend at least a few weeks there every summer to keep the wards strong."
Harry nodded in resignation. If he definitely wasn't able to spend the summer with Sirius and Remus, it wouldn't be too awful being back at Privet Drive, especially if he was still free to visit his friends for most of the summer.
Harry and Blaise were leaving lunch later that day when Anthony found them. His face was solemn, and Harry frowned at him. Anthony had already come to visit Harry in the hospital wing to make sure he was okay. He wasn't sure what that dismal expression meant.
"Harry," he began tentatively, "Douglas and I have been searching for the past couple days, since you mentioned she went missing..." Harry's eyes darted down to the box Anthony was holding, and he paled.
"We found her near the stands," Anthony explained, holding the box out. "She was... I'm sorry."
When Harry just stared, Blaise reached out and took the box, sliding the lid open a fraction to look inside.
"Oh shit," he muttered, closing it again. "Harry-"
"I'm going back to the dorm," Harry said in a choked voice. "Thanks for... for finding her, Anthony. I'll see you tomorrow."
The blankness of the last couple days cracked, but Harry kept himself in check until he was able to close the hangings around his bed and huddle under his blankets in quiet misery.
"Hello, Harry."
Harry blinked through tired eyes at the familiar female voice, trying to place it. Pansy had already tried to get Harry to respond several times over the past couple days, but Harry's spells were strong enough that he wouldn't be moved without his consent. It wasn't her. It wasn't Hermione, either. They wouldn't let a Gryffindor in, anyway.
"Hi, Luna," he said eventually.
"Are you hungry, Harry?"
"Not really." He poked his head out from his blanket cucoon and stared at the bedcurtains, wondering what her strategy was. If he had his way, he wouldn't leave until it was time to get on the train. She was silent for a bit, then:
"After my mum died, I wasn't hungry either," she said. "We were working on a potions experiment and it exploded. She saved my life."
"It - exploded?" Harry asked, startled. Luna made a small noise of agreement.
"Yes. I was nine."
"Luna," Harry said, pulling his blankets more firmly around himself. "That's awful."
"It was," she said. They fell into silence for several minutes.
"Can I come in?" she asked after a while.
"Wh-what?"
"I was going to give you a hug," she explained. "I thought it would make me feel better about what happened to you."
Harry swallowed and stared at the bedcurtains. Luna waited.
"Yeah, okay," he said, and rubbed halfheartedly at the tearstains on his cheeks. He pulled his wand out from under the pillow and lifted the spells for long enough for her to climb inside.
Luna sat on her knees next to him and pulled him into a long hug, blankets and all. After she pulled away, Harry realized he actually felt somewhat better. She smiled a little bit and settled down next to him, leaning against his headboard.
"I brought you something to read," she said, pulling a copy of the Quibbler out of her bag. "And some food, if you do feel hungry later."
It turned out that she had brought nearly an entire year's worth of Quibbler back issues and a stack of sandwiches. Harry took a magazine and they read quietly together. Eventually, he even took a sandwich.
After a few hours, Blaise came into the room.
"Harry? Did Luna come talk to you?"
"I promised I would," Luna said absently, turning a page.
There was silence from the other side of the bed curtain.
"Luna." Blaise's voice was absolutely exasperated. "You were supposed to get him to come out."
"He didn't want to," she said. Harry grinned a little bit and flipped to the rebuses at the back of his most recent Quibbler. He was getting better at them.
Harry ended up leaving his dormitory late the next day, though he kept to himself and his friends as strictly as he could manage. Everyone else was happy to avoid him, anyway.
Dumbledore made a speech at the end of year feast, about how dark times were ahead and how they all had to stand together. Most of the students and even some of the staff stared at Harry for nearly the entire thing. He didn't feel like any of them particularly wanted to stand with him. Harry didn't even want to stand with himself.
He let his eyes fall on the empty seat at the head table where Snape usually sat. He hadn't seen the professor since the night of the third Task.
Dumbledore caught Harry's eye as he finished his speech. His expression was grave, but calculating. Ever since the night of the third Task, Harry's chest and shoulder had felt constricted and heavy, though they were healing nicely and his ribs were essentially good as new. Now with Dumbledore's gaze boring into him, Harry felt almost like he couldn't breathe, the pressure was so great. His Slytherin tie felt like a noose.
He had never thought of Privet Drive as a reprieve before, but he almost couldn't wait to get back.