Skull recovered remarkably quickly, tossing the half empty cup of coffee at Reborn's face before shooting to his feet and whirling around sprint to the door. The brush of fingers against his arm triggered an automatic response, one he had not used in many years. It was in this instant, Skull forgot himself, the mask he spent years perfecting, the mask he spent decades being. There was dread and fear, a mix of horror and desperate pleading, emotions that had been so familiar for so long, years ago. He forgot where he was, those beside him and fell so easily into his instincts from the War.

Harry bled into Skull and the Cloud vanished and in his place stood Harry Potter, the Man-Who-Conquered. His magical aura skyrocketed, followed quickly by his killing intent. Now, Harry had been totally unaware of Flames until the first mission the Arcobaleno had taken together. Nonetheless, he quickly learned. Just like he learned how to destroy a person with solely his magical aura from Voldemort, while ironically, his killing intent was learned from Reborn. Two monsters in their strength, both men he had learned most from in his life.

He had refined and practiced it on his own, away from the others. When he got to the point where it came as easily as breathing with a twist of will, he was fascinated. All the times he had hatred and anger overflowing and this had never happened. It was by chance when he realized that one needed to let the air around you become infused with your Flames and layer certain thoughts and emotions into your Flame. Whatever you were thinking of, layering your thoughts into that power from your soul, it could change the feel from cold and chilling, as if you were staring Death in the face, to burning and suffocating, as if you had traveled to the bowels of Hell. There were so many ways you could use intent in your Flames.

Once, he sent Teddy to sleep, projecting his love and warmth to the child.

Magical auras were different, yet had the same principle. Layering emotions into your magic, only to let it expand and fill you up until you were almost overflowing. It was easily felt, even by non-magicals and by far the easiest thing Harry had ever learned. The Dark Lord had made it into a challenge, a challenge and sheer terror overpowering your senses, like a cold hand on your throat and blood on your lips. Harry did it just a little bit differently.

So when he felt that touch, as he was trying to escape, he let go (he would never be caged again). The emotions spent so long repressing came easily and his fragile peace was gone.

Hatred and vengeance.

Memories flashed unbidden of the piles of bodies they had gathered to be burned, least Voldemort return them as Inferi. He remembered the torture he had faced, the fear he had overcome, his search for the Horcruxes, only to find in the end he was one. And Dumbledore (the mentor he had trusted, only to find out the truth) had raised a martyr with a savior-complex.

Betrayal, agony.

Harry remembered Bellatrix and her insanity, Voldemort and the way he laughed in delight at the dead. The children Harry himself had trained, his friends and Teddy's parents.

Burning, so cold. Ice and fire burning in the midst of them.

It was so easy for Harry to remember the old days as he took a hold of that arm, twisted so easily, Flames and magic strengthening him as he pulled and pushed them harshly to the ground. He couldn't feel the comforting warmth of holly and phoenix feather in his hand, but he could use a couple curses wandlessly and he had his Flames so he wasn't that concerned. He hesitated for an instant, a denial screaming in the back of his head. Something that warned of mistakes and danger. He wanted to see the man underneath him.

Time slowed as he took in wide (familiar) blue eyes, tinged with something like guilt and fear, (annoying) blonde hair ruffling in the wind his power was creating. He knew what he looked like. One eye glowing purple with the deep purity of his Flames, the other, shining Avada Kedavra green from his magic. It made for an awesome death-glare when he was especially angry or determined and it had scared the crap out of the newbie Death Munchers.

Harry paused though, half-way between determination and confusion because he couldn't bring himself to speak the word. He had been able to pull off a wandless Diffindo a week after Malfoy Manor. Strong enough to cut through even iron and stone, without a doubt, the whisper of the word could tear through blue eye's throat. His hand at the man's heart would send either Flames or magic deep into his tissue to stop it just as easily. He was prepared to do it. He shouldn't hesitate, no matter how much he wanted to. Hermione was probably fighting Death Eaters of her own but Ron, where was Ron? He shifted ever so slightly to see off to the side and he didn't see anyone he immediately recognized.

(RebornLalMirchVerdeViperYuni, comrades, a part of him whispers insistently. Don't you recognize Colonello?)

He paused. And awareness slowly came that there was something off with him. Something was wrong and his hands began to tremble faintly.

Breath. In. Out.

"Skull- Harry. Calm down."

Smooth, cultured, and aristocratic (Reborn, you know Reborn. You call him senpai, not that he deserves it, bastard.) broke through the confusion and Harry lifted his head to stare blankly into dark, dark eyes (not red). Like a bolt of lightning realization came back to him.

He was Skull...

Not Harry…?

There was no war (it ended, you ended it).

Hermione had married Viktor, they had two kids (Not fighting anymore, they had both survived).

Ron who loved Lavender when she hated her scars, her lycanthrope and struggled with accepting herself. Lavender who settled into her skin and designed fashion the prominently displayed her scars with pride. The two of them who grew up and matured and found happiness in themselves. They had two children.

Neville was alive. He married Hannah. They were happy (Neville the hero, strong and brave. Hannah, bright and kind, always with a gentle smile and hope) with three children who grew up with their parents.

Luna was fine. She was married and she had twins and she was fine. (Luna, with her Nargles and Heliopaths and so very clever, Roff who clearly adored her)

His thoughts began to clear. He was not in Britain. He was not fighting a war. He wasn't the general, wasn't the only hope (not a martyr).

He was Skull, one of the Arcobaleno. The Cloud, under the Sky Yuni, born from a necessity from the Dursleys' and the Hunt. Perhaps he had once been a Sky. Before Voldemort had taken everyone he held dear. Well…almost everyone.

His magic flared again, this time in order to regain control, not to push his enemies into submission. His heart was racing and his lunges ached but the panic was fading and the shakes in his hands were dying. He took a breath. And another and slowly eased off of Colonello, that idiot Rain, scooting back onto the floor. He placed his palms firmly on the wood and just breathed.

The wind and the fire and the ice, vengeance and hatred, betrayal and agony, the weight lifted from where Yuni was crumpled on the ground, tears staining her cheeks. Viper wasn't much better, even for the lack of tears on their face. Fon had paled and moved quickly to a spot where he could move to stop any sudden movements that the Cloud might have made towards the rest of them. Verde had his hands curled around a small, flickering green flame as he watched intently, ever the scientist, his brain working furiously with the new information he was taking in.

"You know that feeling," he whispered slowly, ignoring the flinch from the sudden change to his voice, into smooth, lilting tones instead of the usual high-pitched and grating, "when a light flashes so brightly and so loudly in front of you and everything shuts down? You can't really think clearly, but you remember when you were at your worst so you know that even if you're in a bad place you'll walk out? Because nothing was worse than that."

It was half a rhetorical question, half just because he wanted to break the silence, so he continued without an answer.

"Or even when you discover what you thought was normal for your entire life, only to find out it was completely wrong so you have to pretend to be someone you were never allowed to be?"

He laughed shakily, bitterness and something else the others couldn't identify in the sound. There was an accusation in his gaze, leveled at the former Arcobaleno.

"It was so easy the first time, you know? The second time? To pretend to be that person? That person who is the most annoying, undoubtedly the weakest? The one you don't even think of if you're in trouble and need help. That person that no one counts on to fight battles or protect those you love. I was Skull before I was Harry. I realized it then, it was so easy after I went five years without ever hearing from a single one of you."

Sk- Harry lifted his head and smirked, something like triumph and sorrow glittering madly in his eyes.

"I was expected to save everyone. I made those around me a target, just by existing. I was responsible for the living, so I trained them. I was responsible for the dead and I mourned all of them. It was my fight, my army, my enemies. I was their general, their leader, their weapon. One moment the world loved me and the next, they cursed my name."

A tear slid down his face and Yuni flinched at the sight of it, having picked herself up from the floor, but Harry continued, ignoring the guilt and heartbreak on her face. He knew her type, her kind all too well.

"I was so happy that all of you were so blind to what I am, that you treated me like a weakling and a coward. That you looked at me and saw nothing. You didn't see the aftermaths of my nightmares, you didn't see the way I moved, breathed nor did you even suspect."

Skull smiled. Wide and arrogantly, twisting in his face into something that was so Skull everyone blinked at him, but then he shifted and it was Harry again.

"Then again, I'm used to remaining hidden. You saw exactly what I needed you to see. First impression are important, after all. Although now you know enough to start looking and start guessing, right? Regardless, I can't stay with you any longer."

With another sharply glittering smile, Harry took a deep breath, ignoring how Reborn's eyes narrowed, Viper raising their hands, and Colonello's reflexive grab as he Apparated with a silent displacement of air.

He didn't have his wand. Haven't had the need for the last fifteen years. The curse was broken, there were people he needed to see.

Reborn bit off a vicious curse, his hand reaching up to tug sharply at a fedora that was not there. He snarled and spat several other equally vicious curses in several different languages, spinning on his heel to take in the looks of the rest of the Arcobaleno. From the thin, pressed lips and cold expression on Fon's face, to Viper's visible swirling Flames, down to Colonello and Lal Mirch's troubled countenance, to rest briefly on Verde's somber expression. However, it was Yuni's face, her expression that gave him pause. Guilt and hesitation, painted so clearly, paired with a reluctance to meet the gaze of those nearest to her.

Anger sparked high and burned bright in him as he glared at his Sky.

"What did you do?"

The girl looked a bit startled at the accusation and harsh tone that man she had always called 'Uncle Reborn' took with her, but she answered anyway.

"I," she began tentatively, "I slipped a truth serum into Skull's drink."

Reborn took a menacing step forward.

"Why?"

She gave a sad, knowing smile, so like the ones in the future she had worn when she knew something, so much like Aria and so very much like Luce.

"He was going to leave," she whispered, her voice resigned and matter-of-factly, "He was going to disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. He would have gone to see his friends, his family, those that had survived, but he wouldn't have stayed for long. He would have left within a year."

She finally lifted her gaze, heavy with sorrow and certainty.

"He would have then spend the rest of his life trying to end it. Going from dangerous stunts, to downright suicide attempts. And finally in the end, in utter desperation and a half-hearted hope, he would throw himself into the veil of death that once claimed his godfather. Unfortunately, he would only be condemned to spend eternity in cold slumber. Immortals can only die when certain requirements are met. Skull has met none of his," she finished in a trembling voice.

Reborn took a deeply controlled breath and shot a look a Verde, who simply looked back with the expression of incomprehension and what looked like guilt. Yuni quickly shook her head.

"No, Skull's requirements come straight from Death, his servant."

A stilted silence weighed heavily on the Arcobaleno and the small movement Fon made as his visibly tensed caught the attention of the others. He took several calming breaths, his hands clenching against his forearms as he closely closed his eyes before opening them to stare at Yuni before he spoke quietly.

"A story passed down through the generations of my family spoke of a story of three gifts to three brothers from Death. It was said that whoever gathers the power to change, to resurrect and to hide from Death, they would become the Master of Death. The only line from these three that survived to pass on their gift to the next generation was the youngest brother who requested the ability to hide from Death. The other two, were lost. Scattered across the Earth and passed from hand to hand."

Yuni nodded solemnly, her eyes glittering orange and brimming with tears.

"Skull is descended from the youngest brother, the one who was gifted with an invisibility cloak to hide from Death. Voldemort stole the wand away from a man who had defeated its former master in combat, but before his death, the one before Voldemort manipulated Skull into taking the last, the Stone that would resurrect the dead. Since the day he walked willingly to his death to spare the lives of others, with no regard for his own, all three of the Deathly Hallows accepted him as their master and were thus bound to him for eternity."

Yuni's voice was steady, if not quieter then intended, but she took a deep breath and continued on, raising her eyes to meet the gazes of her Elements.

"If you wish to know, I will tell you. But you must be sure. You must be absolutely sure you want to know this. Because once I speak of Death and blood, of the horrors, you will never forget them."

Harry didn't know where he was.

Okay, that wasn't exactly true, he Apparated here so he must have known where he was going as he didn't splinch himself. He knew he was in the Forbidden Forest. He knew he had bolted from wherever he had landed, giving in to his desperate need to just run away, but as he stumbled into a clearing that was all too familiar, he wished he had gone anywhere else. He righted himself, gaining his balance and forced himself to soldier on. Just one step at a time.

Until his hands started shaking. And his breath quickened and he could feel the whispers of the death and of the darkness just at the edge of his senses. It was cold. And his body was trembling. He had just barely reached that same place where he had fallen so many years ago when his knees gave out and he tripped and collapsed against the dirt.

He took choked breaths, great heaving gasps, wishing and praying for something to stop the pain and his hands fisted over the place his heart still continued to beat. His nightmares were mostly of the dead, of blood and the war, but he always woke up with the sensation of his heart stopping. Of his breathing suddenly halting. Death was neither a mercy nor a relief.

Tears began to trickle down Harry's face as he screamed into the soft dirt and sobbed and wished and prayed he could go back to being Skull again. He could forget if they nightmares could not find him. He could forget so long as he looked into the mirror and saw himself dyed in purple. He could forget the hell if he wore tight leather and a helmet where it wasn't necessary to make faces to go with his act, simply the voice.

It had been over thirty years.

In the aftermath of the Final Battle at Hogwarts, it wasn't the adults that took charge. It wasn't the Aurors, the Ministry Officials, it wasn't the teachers, the professors, it was Harry Potter. It was Harry Potter who marched into the Ministry of Magic and sat one Hermione Granger in the seat for Minister and proclaimed to the living that he was Harry-fucking-Potter and this is what was going to happen.

He renamed it. The Minister for Magic, the very first one was a first generation witch, Hermione Granger. And then he walked out, still wearing his blood covered clothes, still bandaged and bleeding and Hermione Granger stood up and began shouting orders. The survivors that day were in shock so they did as she asked without questions or opposition. It took almost a week before there was a protest. They were too late, however.

For all that everyone underestimated her, put her down either because of her blood or her gender, Hermione Granger had been and was ready to bring change to Wizarding World. She had started with Hogwarts. When fifth year came about, she moved to the Ministry. So naturally, when Harry asked her for her material on Hogwarts, she gave it gladly. In the week that the escapees, the cowards, the weak and those that didn't fight took to regain their ground, Harry Potter had torn down the traditions of Hogwarts with the help of his friends and those he trained to survive and remade it in the image of Hermione Granger.

Money was short, teachers were scarce, but when the new term would start up, the word, 'muggle' would be erased from any and all material in the school. It was replaced with, 'mundane' just as 'muggleborn' was exchanged for 'first generation'. The newly named Mundane Studies was updated and actually included science, English literature, world history, math and even several books on chemistry. Wizarding Studies was expanded to include wizarding history, foreign magicks and countries, the celebrations of old and the evolution of how magic was performed throughout the centuries. Classes were added such as Music, Dancing and Languages and clubs were established. Dueling, Healing and the Defense Association was now considered mandatory for every single student third year and up.

It was Harry, during those short seven days, that pulled together the survivors and offered them jobs to teach next year's classes. It was Harry that said things were going to be okay now, that everyone was going to help make sure something like this could never happen again.

Several Hufflepuffs stepped forward and stated their intentions for a magical orphanage. Ravenclaws spoke of informing first generation magicals as soon as they would appear on the Hogwarts Register and to go and make sure the child would not alone nor confused. They would make sure the child would be safe. The Slytherins, the ones whose loyalty belonged to Harry Potter, they elected Daphne Greengrass to work alongside the new Minister for Magic to aide her and guide her through everything the Minister would wish to accomplish.

The Gryffindors managed to design their own uniforms and proclaim themselves the new Magical Law Enforcement Agency, led by Susan Bones who had her late aunt's files and stories to rely on, along with Harry's training. They were children themselves, but they were more than that. They were soldiers and survivors and they were the ones that had fought and bled and sacrificed for what they had believed in. They were ashamed of their parents who had either joined the Death Eaters or had fled the country. They were determined for anything like this would ever happen

Those that had lost friends and family threw themselves into rebuilding. Either their homes, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, St. Mungo's, or the Ministry. The school was still a rally point with Madame Pomfrey and her infirmary, the libraries and the dormitories. The House Elves had opened long unused wings and set up beds for those whose homes had been destroyed.

It was this, that Harry Potter did in the aftermath.

It took only five years for the changes to be accepted by the general public. It took another five years for the changes begin to make a difference with a brand new generation stepped through the door of Hogwarts, those who had no part in the Wizarding War. Needless it say, it was a vastly different society under the rule of Harry Potter's Defense Association. Now, it didn't matter where you came from. Now, first generations had years to understand and control their magic, to read and learn about Wizarding culture. Orphans were adopted, either by blood or by law, and now no magical had to endure abuse at the hands of the ignorant and the fearful.

But Harry Potter was not there.

Those close to him, those who had fought by and on his side and with him against the world, they understood. Which is why they let the Daily Prophet publish their lies about the Man-Who-Conquered before Luna Lovegood exposed the truth for everyone to see how much everyone else had failed. They trusted Harry. So, they understood and they accepted it even when Harry turned strange about seeing them, even though the letters and the presents didn't stop. They understood when they were in danger they couldn't handle or out of their depths, a strange person would show up to help. A flicker at the corner of your eye. They all knew it was him. The Potter Luck was a very real thing and they were who they were, alive and well, thanks to Harry.

This was unchanged throughout the years so, over three decades later when a very familiar magical signature popped up in the Forbidden Forest, there were only two people that were sent out to greet him.

Yuni took a deep, fortifying breath and gently blew it out before she continued with her Elements staring at her expectantly.

"In the last days of the war, Skull lost a lot of people. His godfather, his honorary uncle and his wife, a loyal friend, his friend's twin and several children he had taught and trained in hopes that they survived. He spent a year on the run where there was a cycle they repeated, just him and his best friends, a cycle of running, getting caught, getting tortured, escaping, breaking into places and repeating. Over and over again for a year. They broke into a bank guarded by a warrior race, magical enchantments, dragons and they remain the only people in the history of its existence that succeeded in breaking in, taking something out and then getting away scot-free. On the back of one of their prized dragons no less."

Yuni paused, some part of her half expecting Reborn to scoff and deny someone like Skull could pull off something like that. The faces and expressions that greeted her were the exact same as when she began. Hard and stone-cold. Obviously they had prepared themselves to hear the worst. She closed her eyes briefly and sighed.

"In the Final Battle, Voldemort attacked the school holding what was left of the resistance besides Skull, his friends and several adults. On that day, nearing the end of the battle, Voldemort called for a cease-fire since some Death Eaters were reluctant to kill their children or the children of other Death Eaters. He called for Skull to walk into the Forbidden Forest and to die and he would stop. Voldemort promised to spare the lives of his friends. Those left, anyway. And he did.

"Without hesitation, or regret, Skull walked into that forest…and died. Some have said he spoke with the souls of his parents, of his godfather and his godson's father. Some said Dumbledore himself came and eased his way back into the world of the living. Skull never spoke of it outside a certain group of people. The man who Dumbledore sent to rescue him from his abusiv-"

Yuni attempted to control her breathing at the sound of wood imploding, the muffled curses and the distinct noise of teeth grinding . She carefully avoided looking in the direction of whoever was the cause of that and kept her eyes firmly away from the Arcobaleno. She continued after a moment, urging her voice to remain steady.

"Abusive," she repeated, making sure they now understood what the hell they had been doing to Skull all these years, "relatives. Hagrid was Skull's first friend and he loved him for taking him away from his relatives. Hagrid was always trying to get him to eat more as he was concerned with the state of his appearance as a short, thin child as he had know both Skull's parents when they were his age. Hagrid was the one that ended up carrying his body into what remained of the entrance of Hogwarts.

"When Skull woke up, he quickly went back to work and waited for his friends to finish with the last Horcrux before he used the nastiest, borderline dark spell on Voldemort, seconds after he offered him a chance to regret. It was Neville Longbottom who killed the snake that was the second living soul holder for Voldemort, allowed Skull to finish him off. It was during the weeks and months after Skull basically took over the magical government, drastically changing everything he could get either his or his friend's hands on. Hermione Granger is a brilliant first generation witch that he was friends with since he first saved her life from his first year. She had great plans that he used in his total take-over of the British Magical Government. Everyone who he had trained and fought with jumped on the bandwagon and basically staged a coup."

Here, Yuni paused again and dropped her gaze to her hands.

"It was barely six months after when Skull left the Wizarding World and continued to lend his services to his friends when they needed. This continued for several months before he got into stunt-driving. He chose the motorcycle and it was only a week later he had his first fatal accident. He immediately understood that whatever had happened, it had to do with the Deathly Hallows which, incidentally, he had possession and ownership of all before he was killed with the wand."

Seeing the faint twitch in Verde's expression as Yuni peeked through her lashes, she gave a hurried explanation.

"The Wand that holds great power, forged by Death itself. The Ring that calls forth the shades of the dead and the invisibility cloak which hides you from everyone, even Death. These make up the Deathly Hallows."

She cleared her throat and hesitated before she moved on.

"Skull attempted to…he needed proof of his…of what he thought was happening to him. There were several…attempts… and stunts he used to…verify…his beliefs before he realized that no matter how badly damaged he was, he would continue to walk away. The level of insane and impossible stunts increased to the point where he earned the name, 'Skull the Great, He Who Death Hates!'. That was a very dark time for him, before Checkerface came."

The tension in the room was practically suffocating as each of the Elements realized that Skull had basically tried to kill himself via direct and indirect ways. Yuni did not want to go, did not want to speak of his reasons, either Skull's nor Checkerface's. She did not want to do this, because she knew where this would force her to go.

"Checkerface saw instantly and decided he would take no other Cloud for the Arcobaleno. Because," Yuni bit her lip and try as she might, she could not force her voice higher than a whisper, "because a Sky who was born powerful enough to rival Luce, that through abuse, captivity, war and a deluded old man's manipulations became an even more powerful Cloud, was a thing he had never expected to find in all his millennia of existence."

There was a beat of stunned silence before Reborn stood up. He took one very controlled step forward before whirling around and making for the door. Every move he made, it was clear, he was using an extraordinary amount of control to keep himself from slaughtering someone. Yuni simply sat still as the remaining Arcobaleno stood and followed him. Once they had left the room, only then did the Sky stand and make her own way outside to stand on the porch, overlooking as they tried to keep control of their rage, guilt and shame. Still, Yuni couldn't keep some words to herself, for the way they had made Skull suffer and made him watch as they laughed at him and hurt him, over and over again.

"You cannot begin to understand what it would take for a Sky, a damned Sky, to convert and suppress his Flames so thoroughly that there wasn't even a hint of orange in his brilliant purple Flames," she spoke neutrally, in only a shade of mocking sincerity, "Congratulations, over the last thirty years, you looked at Harry Potter, immortal hero, the savior of Wizarding Britain, who ended two wars and re-built the entire magical government of Britain to his satisfaction, who endured torture that left scars even when treated by Flames, potions and magic, you looked at him and saw a weak coward."

They didn't move under the weight of her accusations, facts as they were, even as her voice never rose and never shifted from the conversational tone she was using.

"So congratulations, as if the abuse that he grew up with wasn't enough. As if the threat of death and torture he faced since he was eleven years old, both mentally, emotionally and physically wasn't enough, oh no, everything you said to him, of his weakness, of his cowardice, of how he couldn't even protect himself, much less anyone else. You must be so proud of yourself for reminding a war hero of all those he failed to save, of all those he watched die in front of his eyes. Skull, who on the very first mission he took as an Arcobaleno didn't have a clue what Flames were, but he was faced with someone getting injured so he learned to protect you."

"Enough."

It was a whisper on the wind, so quiet Yuni couldn't tell who had spoken, but she continued, the image of Skull, beaten and broken and alone still firmly in her mind and what she had done to him only last night.

"Skull, born a Sky and forced into a Cloud's mentality. Skull whose instincts warred with one another, one of a traumatized war veteran, an abused child, a Sky, a Cloud, and trying so desperately to either keep what was left of his sanity or just damn well die alre-"

"Enough."

It was Reborn who spoke. In a voice of grief, pleading, an edge of anger and silken steel. He choked on a breath, half snarl and half sob, reaching up to hide his face with his fedora.

And Yuni bowed her head, a tear running down her cheek.

"I had to watch," she whispered, her voice rough and heavy and just barely touching accusing, "I had to watch every night. I had to dream and see it all. And every single one of you were all so blind."

She reached up a trembling hand to wipe away her tears and asked in a heartbroken voice, barely audible, although everyone heard it.

"Why couldn't you have just seen it? Why couldn't you have heard his screams at night? Caught a flash of shadows in his eyes? Anything? Something?"

Yuni closed her eyes and huddled down to hug her knees and cried silently. She only looked up when a warm jacket, smelling of espresso and gunpowder was draped over her small shoulders. She lifted her gaze to the dark, mournful eyes of Reborn.

"We'll find him," he said to her, his tone weighted with meaning, guilty and apologetic all wrapped in a solemn promise, "We'll find him."

But Yuni only shook her head and asked a single question.

"What makes you think he wants anyone of you to find him?"

Harry stiffened the moment he felt a wave of magic softly caress over his skin, followed almost hesitant on its heel by another. He drew in a swift breath of shock as he recognized that power, that magic as it brought up memories of old books, the sweet smoothness of chocolate, the warmth and light of a fire with the hum of loved one's voices in his ears. He stood up so quickly he almost lost his balance as he spun around.

Ron.

Hermione.

They stood almost hesitantly at the edge of the clearing, looking almost the same as they had all those years ago. Only there was a weight only experiences and long years could bring to one. Their bodies had filled out and their faces were sharper and so much more adult then Harry had let himself see in the past decade. He swallow the tears running down his face, wiping them of and reached out-

They were here, they were real.

Ron was solid and taller then him as always, smelling of sunshine and grass, freshly turned dirt with the lingering scent of parchment and books…although that might have been because Hermione was tucked under his arms as they wrapped around them both. They didn't say anything, just held each other in the silence and natural darkness of the Forest. Harry was only half expecting them to demand where had he been, for his best friends to ask why he hadn't come back sooner, to ask anything really. But they just held him and there were tears rolling down their cheeks too.

Oh.

He had almost forgotten. Being Harry-Ron-and-Hermione. Being one of the Golden Trio. The two people in the world who say all that he was, all that he had been and where he went from there. It had been so long. He tightened his arms, took a breath that was more choked and hitched as he tried to get his words out, but he spoke anyway, even though his voice was hoarse and cracked in the middle.

"'Mione, Ron, I am so sorry."

"Shut up, you bloody idiot."

"What do you have to apologize for?"

The words overlapped, but Harry heard them clearly. He couldn't control the sob that burst from his chest as his knees gave out, because they were there, Hermione, Ron.

He clutched at his first friends, his first family, the people who accepted him unconditionally, who stuck by him, protected him, fought for him and wept.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione, tightened her grip, babbling about how good it was to see him, and oh, she knew there was something going on with him and yes, of course she forgave him for keeping away for over twenty years and she had already figured out that Deathly Hallows did something, why didn't you just come home?

Ron huffed a laugh, slapping Harry a few times on the back.

"C'mon, you bloody idiot, do you know how many grey hairs I have because of you? The least you can offer is to pay for a round of drinks with your old war buddies!"

Harry laughed through the tears, leaning back to look up at Ron's visible older features. There wasn't a hint of grey and he didn't hesitate to tell him so.

Ron laugh boisterously as Hermione tsk disapprovingly at both of them.

"Harry," she said, reaching out to brush the side of his still youthful features, her eyes soft with sorrow. "I'm sorry I got angry at you and sent you howlers, but you are still such an idiot if you think we would have treated you any different about this."

"It wasn't-" Harry began to protest before he cut himself off.

"Just shut up, mate," Ron said softly, blinking back tears. "Shut up, we're going home and we'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Yeah," Harry rasped. "Yeah okay."

MERRY FRIGGING CHRISTMAS Y'ALL