"Oh shit!" Bill shouted, Neville's head now engulfed in flames.

People everywhere around him were screaming out and trying to move forward to help, but the entire group of Death Eaters had pushed their group immediately back with their wands directed at them. The message was clear: "You act, you die."

"Someone has to help him!" screamed Ginny.

Someone did have to help him, though as luck would have it, it wasn't so much as someone, rather some things chose that moment—and all rather madly—to start occurring all at once. It had created a massive distraction that left Bill unsure where to look or what to do.

First, the sounds of battle cries and hundreds of footsteps suddenly appeared and were drawing closer by the second. Reinforcements? Had they come? Bill couldn't see them straight away, because at the same time, a gaggle of giants had also reappeared, looking as if they were ready to go to blows with each other once again. Also, as if this wasn't enough, a herd of centaurs—an actual herd—suddenly charged onto the scene, shooting arrows in every which way, at giants and Death Eaters alike.

"What iz 'appening?" Fleur shouted, echoing the sentiments that many—including Voldemort himself—seemed to be having. All Bill knew was that they needed to have their wands at the ready because things were quickly blowing up again. Everywhere he looked, something was erupting.

"Look! Neville's got free!" someone shouted, and when Bill did look, he witnessed a—somehow—fire-free Neville, but also that he was now yielding a long, silver sword. He'd got free and found a sword somewhere, and he was now swinging it furiously at Voldemort's snake.

When he struck it, with one fell swoop, it was beheaded rather gruesomely; the head had gone straight into the air, blood spraying from its detached body. The head landed several yards away from the now severed bottom half.

Voldemort could be seen screaming, not that Bill could hear it over the chaos, but he could sure as hell see the silent horror on his face.

When Voldemort turned his gaze onto Neville, tens of wands suddenly pointed themselves at them, knowing the latter was about to reciprocate in the worst possible way—maybe he'd even try to behead Neville in retribution. Bill joined in with the others, ready to strike and cast any spell necessary to help, when the sounds of Hagrid bellowing, "HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?" carried over the chaos.

Harry's body was gone. Someone had taken it.

But there wasn't time to search because giants were now dangerously close to stomping on them; centaurs' arrows were scattering Death Eaters into their mixes, causing duels to break out once more; and the massive crowd of reinforcements were now upon them—Bill could see the hundreds of people now running up the grounds toward them, their wands out and spells already flying as they met Death Eaters along the way.

All of this was pushing people back into the castle to avoid this crushing surge, Fleur was among them, and Bill struggled to keep up with her, but refused to be separated once more. The fresh faces of reinforcements were starting to become clearer as they too darted up the steps, following the action into the castle. Aberforth, other Hogsmeade shopkeepers, a man Bill recognized from Diagon Alley, Clea from Gringotts, people he'd seen around the Leaky Cauldron—it was everyone else. Slughorn had got the message to everyone else!

Bill managed to grab a hold on Fleur once they were back in the Great Hall, darting out of the way of a slew of house elves who had since abandoned the ointments and tea, and were now defensively waving carving knives and cleavers—hacking at the ankles and legs of masked Death Eaters. Centaurs were now galloping past through the Great Hall's doors, barreling enemy fighters down; spells from duels were flying in every possible direction and knocking people sideways, left and right.

And at the center of the room, Voldemort stood, striking down anyone who came near him, though they were only blasted away and not killed on the spot for some reason. Bellatrix Lestrange was near her master, cackling loudly and currently dueling…

Holy shit. Was that Ginny? And Hermione? And Luna?

It was three on one. Bill felt an intense panic wash over him. He needed to help his little sister and her friends, but he could barely move because of all the chaos. Fleur was beside him, shooting off spells rapidly, stunning any Death Eater who came near them. He cast spells toward anyone nearby that he saw that were in trouble. For a brief second, he could have sworn he saw Charlie in the throng, but he was clearly imagining things.

What he did see, however, was Greyback being knocked to the ground by Ron and Nevile both. He was down, but not out and already attempting to pull himself back up off the ground to rejoin the fight.

Not again. He could not be allowed to get back up again. Bill wasn't going to let that happen anymore, so he charged at the monster, shooting a spell at him that would have forced him to remain on the ground—likely even trampled by the ongoing fights.

But it missed him and instead bounced off the floor right beside Greyback's head.

What it had done was alert Greyback to Bill's presence. He now knew exactly who had cast that failed spell.

Greyback reared around on him, bared his teeth, his eyes full of recognition and hunger. He seemed excited by the prospect of round two and, like a rabid wolf, he bounded toward Bill.

Bill sent spell after spell at him, though the werewolf was quick and seemed to anticipate the direction of each spell in order to dodge it. It was clear that he'd needed to avoid many fights in his day and was used to this.

Greyback leapt into the air, looking to come straight down on top of him, much like he had a year ago. For a brief second, Bill found himself revisiting that moment—the fear, the pain—and his body was anticipating the horror again. It was freezing up to anticipate the shock.

But instead of landing on top of Bill, Greyback suddenly yelped and dropped, mid-pounce, like a stone. He'd gone straight to the ground, looking as if he'd belly-flopped hard onto the hard floor.

Bill turned to see Fleur behind him, her wand arm still out. She was glaring at Greyback on the floor until she looked up to meet Bill's eyes.

"Not zis time."

He threw her a weak smile, the blood now rushing back through his extremities as he aimed a Stunning Spell over her shoulder at a Death Eater who was approaching from behind.

This all was much easier when he had someone actively watching his back.

He glanced back down at Greyback, stiff as a board. Unlike earlier in the evening, he knew he wasn't dead. Fleur had just used a powerful spell to petrify him; one he'd eventually rouse from and continue on his streak of murder and terror. Even worse, if he somehow got out of this, Bill would always be looking over his shoulder, wondering if he was lurking and seeking further revenge.

He could remember what Healer Pye had told him when he'd been at St. Mungo's after his own attack; how Greyback was a huge source of the werewolf injuries and bites they incurred. Remus had once told him that he'd been bitten by Greyback because his father had slighted werewolves; Greyback had taken it out on his son.

Who was to say if Bill ever had children, Greyback wouldn't do the same to them? To Fleur? To any of his family?

He was an unforgiving, unstoppable terror. How many lives had this monster ruined? How many would he continue to ruin if he were to awake and escape?

People had died because of him. Bill had his face nearly ripped off. Remus and others had been forced to live a life of rejection and ostracization because of him. The same Remus who was now dead because of sadistic bastards like him…

Rage started to bubble its way up through Bill to the point where he found himself gritting his teeth and clenching his wand hard enough that his knuckles were turning white. This bastard's bullshit needed to end.

He picked up his wand and aimed it directly at Greyback's neck, deciding to pull out that foul little curse he'd picked up in Egypt that—when cast with enough power—could break every bone in someone's body. Not that he needed every bone—one vital one would do.

When he saw Greyback's neck snap at a heinous, awkward angle, he didn't even feel bad about it. The cracking sound had been unpleasant and would likely stick with him forever, though not in a haunting way.

If nothing else ends tonight, at least this did.

"Bill!" Fleur suddenly shouted, pointing across the room. When he followed her finger, he saw that Bellatrix Lestrange was no longer fighting his sister, but rather now dueling… his mother?

Time seemed to slow. His mother was dueling one of the worst and most psychotic Death Eaters to ever live, and what was more insane, his mother was waving off anyone trying to help her. She was insisting she do it on her own; screaming at Lestrange, who laughed in response.

Bill started urgently pushing his way through the crowd, Fleur right behind him. He needed to get over there and help her. He could not stand back and watch this mad woman murder his mother.

"What will happen to you children when I've killed you?" taunted Lestrange. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

"Oh, fuck no…" Bill said, desperately trying to get past people, having to blast a Death Eater out of his way as he went. People weren't moving; they were all busy fighting their own battles, but he needed to get through. He needed to get to his mother.

"You will never touch our children again!" his mother shouted, adopting a textbook duel stance and sending a curse straight back at Lestrange that hit her square in the chest. It was a hard hit, one that caused her to…

Bill stopped in his tracks, watching as Bellatrix Lestrange collapsed to the ground as if she was…was she dead? Had his mother just…? His mother? His mother ?

"Did mum just…?" he said turning blankly to Fleur, who seemed as shocked as he did, but that was roughly as much as he managed to gather, because in the next moment, Voldemort—seemingly out of rage at the sight of his fallen lieutenant—cast a curse so powerful that Bill, Fleur, and presumably everyone in his direct line of fire were blasted off of their feet.

Bill could remember flying wildly, slamming into the wall of the Great Hall and then dropping to the ground. He'd hit his head and was barely holding onto consciousness…

He dazedly tried to pick his head up and look around, knowing it was futile—his vision was blacking in and out and he'd been hit so hard he clearly was now hallucinating.

Because the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the image of Harry appearing out of thin air, as if he'd just come back from the dead ready to fight.


For the second time that night, Fleur had been knocked unconscious, which she knew was not a good thing. She would need someone to take a look at her.

But what was a good thing, she realized, once she'd come to, was that she was alive. She wasn't immediately sure where she was or how she'd got here, but none of that mattered when she registered just how charged the atmosphere now was around her. Something was happening.

She glanced over and saw Bill lying nearby, unconscious as well, but a quick check of his chest moving up and down indicated he was breathing; he had a pulse and was alive. Thank goodness.

However, what wasn't alive any longer was the battle that had been raging prior to her blacking out. In fact, the entire Great Hall was currently quiet and hyper fixated on the scene in the middle of the room. Everyone had formed a massive circle around…

She wasn't entirely sure.

She gingerly pulled herself to her feet, grabbing the wall for support and not wanting to leave Bill, but desperate to get a glimpse of what everyone was looking at.

"We duel on skill alone!" she heard the unmistakable voice of Voldemort say. "And after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy."

"But you're too late," said…

Harry? Wait, was that Harry? But it couldn't be. Harry was dead. What was happening…?

Fleur immediately drew herself up onto her tiptoes, craning her next to see what she had to be imagining. Because there was no way Harry was—

Her jaw dropped.

"You've missed your chance," said Harry, his wand pointing at Voldemort and vice versa. They were standing at the center of the ring of people, all of whom watching as if they'd never seen something more significant in their lives.

"I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him."

Fleur looked at the wand in Harry's hand, not entirely sure what this Draco had to do with anything, but hypnotized by the realization of what was occurring. Harry was alive! And he was confronting You-Know-Who! He was confidently confronting him, not a trace of fear or hesitation in his hard expression.

"So it all comes down to this," Harry said in a low voice, and Fleur—as she sure everyone else in the room was doing—watched Harry's every move. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

Both wands then flinched; both men then shouted at the same time.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

It sounded like a cannon had gone off when the spells struck each other. It was enough to rouse Bill who, when Fleur saw him stirring beside her, she reached down to help him to his feet, all while he muttered, "What…?"

Though he instantly stopped talking once his gaze met the sight in front of them.

The green jet from Voldemort's spell had met the red jet of Harry', and it had caused Voldemort's wand to shoot from his hand, spinning over and over again in the air until it reached Harry's outstretched hand. It felt like it had happened in slow motion, though when Harry caught it, he didn't seem the least bit surprised.

On the contrary, it was Voldemort who was very surprised—and that would likely be the last thing he'd ever be since in that moment, his own Killing Curse had somehow, someway, rebounded to strike him down on the spot.

He seized up and fell rather unceremoniously backwards, like a sack of potatoes. A completely ordinary death.

But he was dead…

Right?

No one immediately reacted. If anyone else was thinking what Fleur was, she half expected Voldemort to spring back up and keep this never ending nightmare going. Many seemed to be waiting with baited breath for it to happen. One brave man dared to timidly approach his corpse and look down at him, almost as if to check.

"He's dead," she heard Bill mumble in an awestruck whisper, as many others around the room whispered to themselves as well. "Harry actually…"

There was no chance of hearing the next words out of his mouth; not once the mass realization that Voldemort was dead began to register with everyone, The sudden shouting and roars of celebration that followed were deafening. The circle of people around Harry was collapsing in on him, many rushing forward to grab and personally get to him—the victor. The true Chosen One.

It was…over. And of all the reactions Fleur could have had then, she had to laugh. Laughter was what forced its way out of her as she turned to see Bill with the same, almost unbelievable, smile on his face. Harry had done it. He'd actually done it.

She'd never doubted him. Well, alright, that wasn't entirely true. When they'd first met, she'd had many doubts about this random boy who had somehow weaseled his way into the Triwizard Tournament. She'd quickly heard the stories about him—how he was a celebrity—and she'd suspected he was just some spoiled brat who got whatever he wanted thanks to his famous name. Entry into a tournament for people over seventeen, even though he was fourteen? Two Hogwarts Champions? Sure. Of course. Anything for our Chosen One.

But she'd been mistaken. She's been so very mistaken. It hadn't taken Harry's torture and Cedric's death for her to realize he was a victim and a hero—she'd seen his true character the moment he'd sacrificed his chance at winning the second task to help Gabrielle out of the Black Lake. If he was only invested in the prize and glory, why had he done that? Why had he sacrificed his own prestige?

But that was Harry. All he did was sacrifice. He sacrificed his life, his normalcy, his happiness, his time—all for other people. He'd done everything necessary to protect everyone else, help everyone else, and Fleur couldn't put into words how much of an impact he'd had on her life. She would be forever grateful for him, for he was truly a hero.

Around the Great Hall, light streamed through broken and intact windows alike; the sun had finally risen on this new day. It felt as if the entire room was trying to get a piece of Harry—just to shake his hand or hug him, but Fleur and Bill stood back and let everyone else go first. They would get their moment to thank him soon enough. She wasn't sure a hug right now would even scratch the surface of the thanks she wanted to give him.

Bill turned to grab her then, quite literally sweeping her off her feet, which made her laugh as she wrapped her arms and legs around him; them face to face with their foreheads pushed together.

"It's over," he said.

"It's over," she repeated back to him, shouting, "Victoire!" for victory before kissing him hard and knowing that they had so many more of these kisses to look forward to in the future. There were no more impending threats of a last hug, a last word, a last kiss. She now had every intention of them growing very old together. She was never going to stop kissing him.

"You two about to kick off the post-war baby boom?" came a voice that immediately made the two of them pull apart. Fleur felt a friendly hand on her back, as if she was being hugged. When she looked, she saw Charlie with his arms around her and Bill, a smile on his face and blood splattered on the front of his robes.

"Charlie…?" Bill said, sounding shocked as he set her down and turned to bring his brother in for a desperate looking hug. "When did you get here?!"

"Came in with the big group at the end," he said, giving Fleur a proper hug as well. "After we talked, I had a mate of mine help me set up an illegal Portkey." He shrugged. "Took us a bit to figure it out, but once I got it, me, him, and about five people I know out in Romania all tagged along. We got to Hogsmeade, where Aberforth and Sluggy were gathering numbers. Said our lot needed help. As soon as we heard You-Know-Who babbling on—"

"Voldemort," Bill said. "Let's call him Voldemort from here on out because….fuck him."

Charlie laughed. "Fuck him is right! But yeah, Voldemort—" He made a face as if that would take some getting used to, "was shouting about Harry being dead and all that. We could hear him in the village, so that's why we decided to storm the castle. Harry might have been dead, but we weren't letting him just have his way."

"But Harry was not dead," Fleur interjected, "which I am still very confused about…"

"I think we all are," Bill muttered, letting himself smile, "but here's hoping we can get some answers now that things are over. No more secrets."

"Things are over!" Charlie shouted loudly as he threw his arm in the air in celebration, causing Bill and Fleur to laugh before Charlie pulled them in again for yet another hug.

As they pulled apart, Charlie said, "You look like hell. What you've both likely been through." He frowned. "I only wish I could have been here sooner."

"No, you don't," Bill said heavily, sounding as if he meant that with every fiber of his being. "But hey, did you see mum taking down Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Wait, what?!"

"She's dead because of mum! I swear!"

"No, fucking way," Charlie said with laugh, listening a Bill recapped what they'd witnessed. It was lovely to see the pair of them happy and celebratory, the horrors of the last few hours pushed from their minds, even if only briefly. Because if Fleur knew anything, it was that the horrors would be back. They would be back, and with a vengeance.

Still for a few minutes, it was nice to just celebrate that things were over. It was nice to appreciate that the sun was shining; that families and friends were being reunited; that people could come together and realize the darkness was gone for now—hopefully forever. It was just nice to not be afraid anymore; it was nice to feel hope again.

Even if all the gleeful excitement was short-lived.

"Where's the rest of them?" Charlie said, looking around. "I saw Ron and dad. And clearly I need to find mum and have her teach me how to duel." He laughed and looked back at Bill. "But what about the twins? Gin? Where are they hiding?"

All of her and Bill's excitement deflated instantly with that question; she turned to Bill to gauge what he would do. He cast her an uneasy look, as if he'd instantly been reminded that there was still one last person among them who didn't realize that one of them hadn't made it.

She reached over and began rubbing Bill's back, knowing what he was about to have to do.

"What?" Charlie asked, frowning and clearly detecting something had changed in the moment. "What is it?"

Bill took a huge breath. Fleur was certain she'd never seen him not want to say something more in his life than what he was about to say.

"Fred didn't…He didn't make it."

"Didn't make it…where?" Charlie asked, sounding genuine in his question, as if he wouldn't accept an answer being anything short of innocuous.

Bill just stared at him, the pair having a silent exchange that eventually led to Charlie muttering, "No. No, that's…no. Come on. He's fucking with us. It's Fred, that's what he—"

"Not this time."

Charlie hadn't believed him, though it was clearly less that he felt like he was being lied to and more that he didn't want to believe it. She and Bill walked him to the room just off the side of the Great Hall, where someone had moved the bodies before the battle had commenced, to find where Fred lay among the numbers. The remaining dead from the second half of the battle were already being placed delicately with the other fallen.

In Voldemort and his supporters' case, they were being placed off in the corner and entirely away on their own; not to be mixed with the true victims. It seemed in death, Voldemort got exactly what he wanted. To be segregated and set apart from everyone else. Certainly not for the reasons he'd hoped.

Charlie stared for a long moment at his younger brother, but said nothing for ages. Neither she nor Bill said anything either, letting Charlie take it all in.

He finally asked, "What happened to him?"

"We don't know. No one has been able to—"

"I know."

They all turned to see Percy standing there. He'd silently approached at some point, evidently for the same reasons they all had—to come and see Fred.

"I was with him," he continued, coming closer. "We were up in the seventh-floor corridor, dueling. Thicknesse was there. Rookwood too. Those are the ones I remember. It happened so fast, but someone had blasted a wall out—I think it was Rookwood—and Fred got caught up in the blast." He frowned. "That's what got him. The explosion."

Bill turned to Percy. "Rookwood?"

Percy nodded solemnly.

"He almost got me tonight too," Bill said. "I broke his leg, but I should have fucking killed him."

"What about George?" Charlie said, blinking something off as he turned away from Fred. "Is he…?" He looked from Percy to Bill. "He's got to be—"

"He's not talking much," Percy said. "Understandably. I'm surprised he's not here already. He didn't leave Fred's side when he found out. Until You-Know-Who came and—"

"Voldemort," Bill and Charlie said together in an almost identical, sad sort of unison. Bill added, "No more You-Know-Who."

Percy nodded. "Right."

They all fell into a silence then, everyone of them with their eyes on Fred until Charlie suddenly loudly shouted, "Fuck!" before walking several steps away down the corridor, his fists clenched. To no one in particular, almost as if he was talking to the universe, he exclaimed, "Why?!"

"Should have been me," Percy said quietly, his eyes never leaving Fred's body. "I know that's what you're all thinking."

Fleur turned to look at Percy, as did Bill. She barely knew him, but she felt the need to say, "No…" while Bill said, "No one thinks that, Perce."

"You don't know that," Percy said, looking over to where Charlie had wandered back over. "I bet Charlie's thinking it."

Charlie, who seemed startled by the accusation, suddenly pulled a face. "The fuck? Percy, don't tell me what I think."

"You hate me," Percy said, staring at him. "You always have. All of you always have." He looked at Bill. "Maybe not you. You tolerated me, but—" He looked at Charlie. "Don't pretend like you'd rather have me here than Fred. Because you wouldn't and I know it. You'd all trade me if you could."

"No, we wouldn't," Bill said. "No one thinks that—"

"Percy, no one hates you," Charlie said, looking him in the eyes. "At least, I don't. We don't always get on and we are very different people, sure, but I don't hate you. It's more complicated than hate and love. It's…" He looked at Bill. "It's family."

Bill smirked a little, nodding as if to say he could agree.

Charlie sighed. "Look, Perce, you're my brother. Something, as of today, I now have fewer of because the world is shit. And believe it or not, I'm not looking to lose anymore of those. One is enough. One is—" Charlie stopped to swallow, looking emotional. "One is too fucking many."

He then looked over at Fred, sniffling loudly. "I don't wish it was you instead of Fred, I just wish I didn't have to wish anything at all."

Percy didn't respond, though Bill had walked over to put a reassuring hand on Charlie's shoulder, squeezing it as Charlie looked again to be blinking something off. After a moment, he turned to Percy and said, "I don't hate you."

He then walked over and hugged him.

Percy seemed surprised by the gesture, but didn't hesitate to hug him back. Fleur caught Bill smiling a little at the pair before they broke apart and Charlie, who had tears in his eyes now, walked over to hug Bill.

One of them, Fleur couldn't tell if it was Bill or Charlie given the muffled tone, said, "What the fuck are we going to do?"

"Stick together," said the other one. "Like we always do."

It was hard to stand in the room with the dead for long, and the group eventually meandered rather aimlessly back into the Great Hall to rejoin where nearly everyone else was still recovering and, depending on the person, rejoicing. The mood was a mixture of both somber and solemn, but also brighter and still celebratory. The house elves had ditched their cleavers from battle and instead had returned with tea, coffee, and food; people were sitting around hugging and greeting old and new friends alike. The tables had returned, allowing people to sit and gather themselves; Fleur saw Dean and Luna, looking exhausted, but chatting with friends of theirs.

She smiled, happy they made it. They were both such lovely people.

She glanced around the Great Hall as the Weasley boys looked around for their family. She couldn't help taking in the damage that she could see, realizing just how much of a violent beating Hogwarts had taken. It was nothing a large team of dedicated witches and wizards wouldn't be able to fix with time and effort, but at the moment, it was hard to believe this was a school for children; that those same children would likely come back here to learn their lessons on the site of so much death and destruction. She didn't know if she could.

"Fleur," came the voice of Angelina, and when she turned, she saw her and Katie approaching with hot drinks in their hands. Bill, who'd been beside her and walking with his brothers, stopped as well. Fleur told him he didn't need to; she'd catch up in a moment.

"I—we," Angelina began, gesturing between her and Katie, "wanted to thank you for help. Who knows if we'd be dead or…what have you, if we hadn't run into you."

Fleur smiled. "Do not thank me. You helped me just as much. We helped each other."

They smiled and Fleur then noticed that Katie's coffee-free hand was now bandaged heavily, as if she'd incurred a severe injury since they'd last seen each other. When asked what happened, apparently she'd had a terrible fall and felt she'd broken much of the bones. It only needed a spell to fix, but Madame Pomfrey was very busy with far more pressing issues at the moment and she didn't want to bother her.

At that, they all turned to see Madame Pomfrey doting over an unconscious man. It seemed she had some help, and if Fleur had to guess, some people in the crowd of reinforcements likely were Healers.

"How are your friends?" Fleur asked, turning back to the girls and not wanting to full on ask if they'd lost anyone. Still, it was implied.

Angelina and Katie exchanged glum looks, with Angelina saying, "Two people we were close with didn't make it, including Fred. The other was a girl—a friend. A few more injured, but alive." She took a deep breath. "I can't stop thinking about George, but I haven't seen him since earlier. Have you seen him?"

Fleur shook her head, giving the room a quick scan. She'd seen him just before the second half of the battle and she knew he'd joined the fight, but she had not seen him since Voldemort was vanquished. He hadn't been with Fred in the side room, so it was hard to say where he would have gone. She did not blame him if he wanted time to himself. Wherever he was currently, she hoped he was alright.

"What about you?" Katie asked. "Are you alright? I just saw Bill, so—

Fleur nodded. "Bill is safe. All of the other Weasleys are accounted for." She then thought of Tonks and Remus. "But I lost some very good friends as well."

They both nodded as if they understood. Angelina offered, "I envy the person who can say they didn't."

Fleur did too, though she wasn't sure that person existed. Not with the sheer amount of victims and with just how small the wizarding community was.

Bill and his brothers had found their parents and Ginny, all of whom looked to be filled with loads of conflicting emotions and struggling to articulate any of them. They did seem happy to see Charlie, who Molly and Ginny buried in a hug. From Charlie, Molly proceeded to hug Percy and then Bill; telling them how proud she was with each of them.

She'd even turned to Fleur and said the very same thing, hugging her as tightly as she could.

"I am so happy you made it," Molly said, her voice full of emotion.

She hugged her back, though found herself truly at a loss for words. For so many reasons, the obvious and the buried, nothing felt right to say in this moment. She only hoped this hug and her silence conveyed her message well enough.

Fleur would go and fix herself a cup of tea to sit with the Weasleys, eventually noticing that Harry was not far away from them then. He was still doing a bit of a tour around the room, looking exhausted but shaking every hand offered to him; taking every hug extended.

He'd seemed so grown and hard these last few months, a far cry from your typical seventeen year-old. And while he clearly looked like a man who'd seen things now, the hardness looked to have vanished from his eyes. There was a spark there again, a brightness that reminded her of the boy she'd first met years ago. He looked as if he could finally breathe after…who knew? Perhaps the first time in his life?

She hoped it wasn't temporary. That he could still find that part of him once the shine of his victory wore off. After what he'd been through, what they'd all been through, there were still many tough roads to recovery ahead. She'd learned that once already—more like several times—but the damage never quite ended with the battle. Your mind would always be fighting in a new kind of war.

At one point, Harry glanced in her direction and they made quick eye contact. She smiled and he smiled too. She knew the last thing he wanted was to continue this tour or well-wishes any more than he had too, so she was happy to leave their interaction at that. They could talk in the future.

Because thanks to him, she now had a future that didn't seem so bleak and uncertain.