The blurry outline of his bedroom was illuminated by the sun creeping through slits of wooden blinds. Every day this summer he woke up to a large bosomed unfocused red head holding a beach ball. Yes, that had to come down. Although Ginny was not so comically endowed, he was reminded of her every time he woke up. It was an awkward sinking feeling, to wake up to her every day and start his morning thinking about all the ways he was disappointing her. Directly after the war they celebrated together, laughing- a glorious reunion… and then the trials started. And he was sucked back into it, dreading the date, intensely questioned, and then it was over. But there was another one, then the buildup again, needing time to decompress afterwards, just to be summoned to the next one. Forcing himself to re-live his interactions with the Death Eaters in preparation for the trial and then again at the actual trial, zapped him of all his emotional energy. So… he started to avoid everyone, not intentionally, just until he felt better, but then he never felt better.

Reaching for his glasses, he looked down to the floor at the fresh Prophet on top of all the others.

"Hogwarts: Haven or Hellscape? What students should expect September 1st." Groaning, he rolled back over, but he wasn't allowed to sleep. If he didn't get up soon, the five very annoying wakening charms he set would go off, and they were nasty ones. Wanting to avoid a violently shaking bed or a cold douse of water, he reluctantly sat up, still feeling groggy, wanting to escape the traps he set.

Stumbling and sluggish, he patted the end table for his water cup but it wasn't there. Swallowing, he gazed around helplessly at the trash covered room. What would people say if they saw him living in this condition? Well, Sirius wouldn't be too upset about it.

The fact is, the secret was already out. Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Hermione stopped by a week before his birthday. Upon hearing the door slam and their voices, Harry threw on his Invisibility Cloak, tiptoed up the stairs, and hid in the attic. They searched the Black House top to bottom, calling his name, and only left when Hermione tried convincing them he must be out, all well-knowing he was there and obviously hiding from them. A kinder thing to do was to simply leave and spare him the embarrassment of uncovering him huddled in a corner somewhere, disheveled and unshaven.

Mrs. Weasley left some food though, which he ate over the next few days.

Last night Harry went so far as to hand wash his jeans and his wizarding robes in the kitchen basin, leaving them to dry by the fire. He almost called Kreacher back from Hogwarts, but it seemed a lowly act to summon him just to do his laundry. Well, he should eat something, today of all days. He settled for a banana and bread, not exactly filling, but it was quick and thoughtless.

Two hours. Two hours until the hearing. Tapping his fingers on the table, he looked around. Should he go early? Settling on cleaning, he trudged up to his room and opened the door, the stench and hoard politely waiting for him, inviting him in. The light through the window illuminated the Prophets and empty food containers in waves. Harry closed the door. No, he couldn't deal with that just yet.

In the bathroom he resigned to the mirror, dreading what he was going to see. Yes, that's what he thought: he looked homeless. The clothes looked alright, wrinkled, but alright, but his general appearance was that of a recluse. Gently shaving with his wand, he washed his face and severed off a couple inches of hair. Yes. That looked okay…

No. No, it didn't. Not for today. Pointing his wand tip at the locks near his forehead, he severed several strategic chunks to reveal his scar. There. If Draco's trial was on the line, he had to remind them he was Harry Potter. Straightening his glasses, he squared his shoulders and tried to look impressive. Would this fool them? Would his presence add weight?

Back in his bedroom, he used a grouping charm to separate items on the floor in their own pile: Prophets in one, dishes, and then clothes in the other. He used a levitating and straightening charm on his blanket, which failed. Making his bed by hand, Harry's eyes accidentally found the poster again, the fake Ginny and her beach balls looking happy.

Going back downstairs, he found three more letters on the sitting room table, refusing to be sorted and ignored.

All were from Hogwarts, all sent by McGonagall. Why were there three?

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to welcome you back at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We are pleased to announce your appointment as Quidditch Captain… blah blah blah no no no no

No, not this. A horrible rush of adrenaline flooded him. Not this. He threw down the letter without reading it through. This was not what he wanted. But why? Wasn't Quidditch his favorite thing? Flying always took his mind off everything. So… why this feeling? Well, he hadn't been on a broom for over a year… and… responsibilities… Folding the letter hastily, he tossed it down for the next one.

The second letter was expected- his course books and required supplies. …When was he going to buy these? Maybe he could owl- order them… No. No, he couldn't.

The third letter looked even more official than the last two. He sliced it open with his wand and unfurled it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to announce you are one of the 37 students to receive a Hogwarts Award for Special Services to the School for your gallant heroics at the Battle of Hogwarts. Your Trophy will be given at a special Hogwarts Ceremony on August 31st, the day before start of term. If you are unable to attend the ceremony and wish to have it sent to you, we await your return owl.

Harry groaned. No, this wasn't right either. He didn't need more accolades. Surely McGonagall knew he didn't want a trophy. It all felt so… fake. People died, and now there's an award ceremony? Did he have to go? They weren't … expecting him, were they? In order to get away from these three new thoughts, he started to straighten up his kitchen in a frenzy so he wouldn't have to think.

What if his trophy was bigger than everyone else's? That would be awkward, standing up near the staff table, grimacing, while all the students clapped and Hagrid yelling 'Yeh did it Harry!' Hogwarts was sounding just as daunting as working for the Ministry by the minute.

An hour to go. He should leave.

Every time Harry slipped into the Ministry of Magic he wanted to wear his Invisibility Cloak. After learning how special it was, he wasn't sure if he should wear it anymore. What if someone realized how superior it was compared to other cloaks? He even had a lie prepared just in case: 'It was Dumbledore's personal cloak.' No one would question why Dumbledore had a superior Invisibility Cloak. That was just… a given, wasn't it?

"Morning, Potter!" McGonagall barked at him, looking harassed but prepared.

"Morning," he said, not looking her in the eye. She scrutinized his appearance as they waited. This was not the best he looked for a pre-trial, but not the worst either. At least he cut his hair this time.

"Before we go in, I need to… clear… something with you. You and Mr. Malfoy share a complicated history. You were very kind at Mrs. Malfoy's hearing. Is there any reason why you would be less enthusiastic today? I need your support Potter, I need my students back at Hogwarts."

"I know how important this is. I don't feel great about it, but he doesn't deserve Azkaban."

"Glad to hear it."

And they stood outside waiting for the hearing to start.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Potter?" and she could hear something important in his voice.

"I… I don't want to be Quidditch Captain this year."

"I see..." She raised her eyebrows, making eye contact with him but didn't seem surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite sure."

"Alright, no one is going to force you to take it."

"And… uh…" and this was important. He was afraid to ask. "Do you think I'm allowed… back at Gringotts? I don't know if I should stop spending the money I have or…"

"I am sure you are quite allowed back at Gringotts. They have suffered losses too; they did not want a wizard ruler, nor a piece of his soul in their vaults. You did not take any treasure but the cup you meant to destroy. The items were counted and recounted; nothing was taken but the cup. If they have not given you notice, you should go to your vault as normal, and as required."

"Oh…" And one of the thousand weights lifted off him, still leaving hundreds more.

And it was time. As they filed in, Harry was surprised to see the court was not as full: perhaps only two-thirds came. Apparently, a student at Hogwarts was not as important as the original Death Eaters. Following McGonagall down the aisle, he caught Kingsley among many empty seats. Harry's spirits rose. Percy nodded as they passed.

A thin important bean pole of a man stood up and adjusted his glasses, the same prosecutor for the Carrows. "Good Morning witches and wizards, lovely day, lovely day. I am the lead prosecutor, Johnston J Fields… Today: Draco Malfoy…" He practically sang it, like his job was a pleasant stroll in the park. "Bring in the accused…"

Draco walked in looking pale but stoic and just as thin as he did at his father's trial. As he passed, he gave a quick look at McGonagall but refused to look at Harry. Sitting down, he focused on the Wizengamot, not afraid to look at any of them in the eye.

"Witness for the Defense, Minerva McGonagall and Harry James Potter…" Johnston flipped over papers reading. "Draco Malfoy has been accused of joining an illegal Death Eater group and engaging in Death Eater activities under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You were seen the night of the Battle of Hogwarts after you were evacuated with the rest of your house. Hence begins the formal inquiry…"

"Draco Malfoy, you have a scar on your left forearm, is that correct? The Dark Mark?"

"Yes, but-" Draco did not look ready to be questioned as soon as he sat down. Harry knew the feeling of being in that chair.

"It was given to you by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, himself?"

"Yes, but-" and the nervous version of Malfoy washed away into an annoyed one as he kept getting cut off.

"So, you were in THE SERVICE of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for two whole years?"

"NO. I was given a Dark Mark to punish my family."

"So, you are saying you were forced into He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's service?"

Draco opened his mouth but did not lie quickly enough.

"Draco Malfoy, where were you on the night of the Battle of Hogwarts!?" Fields demanded.

"I was in the Room of Requirement, hiding with my friends."

"But you were escorted OUT OF THE CASTLE!" Mr. Fields threw up his hands and broadened them. "Why did you go back, if not to fight?"

"My friends went back, and I followed them. But I convinced them to hide."

"LIES!" Fields erupted, his cheery demeanor extinguishing, an angry stick with pointy fingers, looming over anything shorter than him.

"I'M NOT LYING!" Malfoy bit back, commanding the room in the entitled voice he used so well. "I was at Hogwarts in school all year, not working for the Dark Lord! If I was working for him, I would have been doing so, as he was in power, and not IN SCHOOL!"

"Yet you came back to the Battle of Hogwarts after being evacuated!"

"My friends were there!"

"Fighting?"

"NO. Not fighting," and although it was a lie, he sounded very convincing. "They were in trouble! I had to go back." Real fear entered his eyes. "They… they were in trouble. Everyone was in trouble…"

"And whose side were you fighting for?" Fields narrowed his eyes.

"My friends."

"Your friend's fathers are Death Eaters, aren't they?"

"Allegedly…" Draco gave him a filthy look like he knew better than to answer this question. "My friends are NOT Death Eaters."

"Just you then," Mr. Fields whispered accusatory.

"NO!" Draco said resolutely.

"We have eye witnesses that put you with Death Eaters in your sixth year. With accomplices of Yaxley, the Carrows, Rowle, and Gibbon…as well as… Greyback."

"NO!" Draco yelled, and he meant it. "NOT Greyback, do not…. my friends and family would never associate with such filth."

"Where are your witnesses today then, Fields?" McGonagall interrupted, snapping at him, tapping her wand impatiently. "I can't help but notice the roster is a little light today."

Fields straightened, eyeing her, sizing her up.

"You couldn't even get a Carrow? Seems like even the Death Eaters do not consider him one of their own. Not good enough to testify against, hmmm? This is a waste of the courtroom's time. Mr. Malfoy was at Hogwarts all last year. He has not been participating in Death Eater activities, and did not participate in the war."

"Does he have a Dark Mark or NO?"

"Yes, he was FORCED, underage to receive it as his father's replacement. You will know that it is illegal to brand CHILDREN under the age of 17, let alone a cursed scar. I would recommend prosecuting the perpetrator- BUT! He. Is. Already. Accounted. For."

McGonagall was brilliant. Her haughty demeanor. Her ferocity. Her dripping indignation.

"Who cares if he was branded at 16 or 17? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's reign was unprecedented times!"

"The LAW cares. He was 16! A child! AND he is an exemplary student!"

"Oh, did he get satisfactory grades last year?"

"While his parents were being held hostage? I think NOT." The prosecutor had nothing to say to this so McGonagall got to cut in one more time. "You are going to send my students, each and every one of them, back to school where they belong!" she ordered to Mr. Fields and the room at large.

"You have no power here!"

"Don't I now?" and she raised herself to her full height. "That is MY student you have in that chair, and if ANY of you think he is going to trial, you have ME to deal with. I WILL take time out of my day for an appeal, and you don't want me distracted while I'm repairing the castle, where your children and families go to school."

"That sounds like a threat, McGonagall, and you can't give those in court!"

Her nostrils flared. "It is a FACT I have better things to do with my time than to be teaching a court right from wrong when prosecuting the victims of .MORT!" and her voice reverberated through the entire court, people still wincing at the name.

"Enough. Final Witness. HARRY POTTER."

Harry sighed, standing up slowly, looking at no one, resigning himself to this moment. He did not want to be here.

"Harry Potter, is Draco Malfoy branded with the Dark Mark?"

"Yes. He was sixteen. I overheard him talking about it…" bragging with his friends.

"Did he participate in Death Eater activities?"

Yes. "Are you asking me if he's a Death Eater? No, he's not a Death Eater. The night-"

"WAS HE- OR WAS HE NOT SEEN-"

"NO!" Harry yelled over him. "LET ME FINISH!" and Mr. Fields quieted resentfully, not even he could overpower Harry Potter socially and get away with it, not in this climate. "The night Dumbledore died, he met with Draco Malfoy in secret, and promised to hide his mum and protect him. But he didn't get that chance- Dumbledore was dead before Draco could accept the offer. I am confident he would have accepted if he had the chance. When my friends and I got captured by Greyback, Draco denied that I was Harry Potter to his entire family although he knew it was me, going against his father, knowing his family would be released from their house arrest if he gave me over. I can confirm Draco was hiding in the Room of Requirement during the Battle of Hogwarts. He did not join the fight, and did not fire a single spell at me although I was right in front of him. I am requesting Draco be pardoned and allowed to return to Hogwarts. There is a scar on his arm, not a mark. He is not a Death Eater, and never was." Harry was not kind. He was not mean. But there was a finality in his voice: don't waste Harry Potter's time.

Talking filled the room. The prosecutor looked bothered and done with this entire event. Draco, feeling the room, tried to stay composed but kept darting his eyes to McGonagall and back to the jumbled discussion. Something like hope was there.

Kingsley gave a soft but almost unnoticeable nod to Harry. There was a lot of muttering while Mr. Fields busied himself straightening papers with a frown. The muttering stopped. Harry waited for a vote that did not come.

"We have questioned the accused. It has been decided there is not enough evidence to proceed. Mr. Malfoy, you are free to go."

Draco looked first at McGonagall, then at the prosecutor, stood up, wide eyed and pale, and left the courtroom as quickly as he could while attempting composure.

McGonagall let out a full sigh beside him. Murmurs filled the courtroom and people started to file out. "That went as well as it could have."

"You were brilliant," Harry said, feeling truly alert for the first time in weeks.

She smiled knowingly. "No one is taking my students away from me, Potter. Not before my 'Grand Opening.'"

"You threatened the court? How'd you get away with that?"

"I have big shoes to fill."