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Thirty prophets, maybe more, scattered the bedroom floor in various states of being read or never opened. They took their place around thrice-worn clothes, empty soup cans with the spoon still in them, and dirty socks. In this dubious hoard lay six just delivered letters and some parcels.

Harry was not expecting birthday gifts this year, he was expecting them to break the door down. After the initial celebrations he started to take weekends alone. He spent entire weeks decompressing and revving himself up to go to the Ministry, only to do it all over again. The slow degrade wasn't intentional, but he didn't have a washing machine and never learned a proper spell for it besides a Scouring Charm, and that only did so much. So, he made up his mind last night: if the Weasleys tried to ambush him for his birthday he was going to do a runner.

BOOM. The ceiling shook a little. Even with the anti-reverberation charms and varied muffling spells, he could still hear the Howlers go off upstairs. Every letter, every Howler, every press request, every congratulations, anything that wasn't directly from the Burrow, Hogwarts, or the Minister of Magic himself got automatically sorted into his new mailroom- Mrs. Black's old bedroom. The last time he dared open the door, there were already thousands of letters. He did not like being this famous, and wondered if he was going to receive letters like this for the rest of his life. And that was only in the first month. What would happen if the room could no longer hold them?

But as Harry stared at his ceiling, he decided the Knight Bus was not needed. They would have been here by now, it was already afternoon. Sitting up, he gathered his handful of perfectly acceptable birthday letters: one from Hermione, one from Ron, one from Mrs. Weasley, one from Hagrid… and one from Ginny… and… what's this?

'To Harry Potter / Dumbledore.' It had an actual stamp on it. ...Too weird. He set it aside and opened the safest- Hermione's.

Hermione's letter was upbeat with a thinly veiled attempt at checking in how he was feeling. Ron's was perfectly energetic, stuffing any worry so deep it didn't make it into the letter. Mrs. Weasley sent her love, as well as her husband's. Hagrid sent a letter that smelled strange, not on purpose, but it too was full of greeting. Ginny's was short.

Dear Harry,

I wish you changed your mind about coming over for your birthday. Our summer has been nice under the circumstances. Ron is nervous about his new job. Happy Birthday,

Ginny.

This was about what he expected after he kept avoiding her. But he was avoiding everyone, so hopefully she didn't feel like he didn't care. He stuffed all these feelings into an emotional hole to avoid facing them at the moment.

To Harry's relief Mrs. Weasley sent a generous box of food along with her Birthday cake. Hagrid's cake was left untouched in its box on the floor, icing squishing out of the corners. All of his other presents from the Burrow remained untouched; he didn't feel like he deserved their gifts after he avoided them all.

The last letter he didn't open right away. The To: 'Harry Potter / Dumbledore' was suspicious in itself, let alone the muggle envelope and stamp. It was so out of place he couldn't stop looking at it, turning it over and over again. There was something familiar, yet unfamiliar about it. And yet it was sorted into his personal mail. He opened it and started to read. As he did, a mental door flew open into a world completely forgotten.

Dear Harry,

How's it going? I started my first year at university. Dad is proud. They do not talk about you much, not at all really, but I know they wonder the outcome of things. You left and everything was quiet. Our new home was nice, better even. England seemed to have a nastier year than normal, but all in all it went fine. Mum and Dad are back in Little Whinging now. I wasn't sure how to reach you so I sent this letter addressed to Dumbledore and put it in the post. Mum said it might get to you. I didn't know what to get you for your birthday or what your lot even find useful. I have a girlfriend now. She is really smart and I am nervous for her to meet mum and dad. Sometimes I think they are a bit closed minded. All of my classes seem advanced. I wonder if I should have gone to a different school. Here is a picture of Cassia and me.

PS, how is your owl? I never got to see her up close but she's very pretty. I don't even remember her name. If you want to write, here is my address.

Happy Birthday,

Dudley

It took a long time for Harry's mouth to close. Dudley… Dudley... that name was from… a different life, even though only a year had passed. How much he didn't know and how much Harry never told them, like Dumbledore, the man who took over the Dursley's house for an evening was no longer alive, nor Harry's owl. …So much had changed. Dudley included a picture of him and his girlfriend, both looking smartly dressed, perhaps at a dinner party. He looked strong as ever, gained more muscle and lost some of his belly bulk, but not much. His girlfriend had a round pretty face... and glasses. Harry pictured her trying to help Dudley through his classes like Hermione helped Ron. It didn't surprise him that Dudley was having trouble with his university classes but he seemed like he found his place as an athlete and with a (thank goodness) smarter girlfriend.

He turned the letter over absentmindedly. He froze.

If you are not Harry Potter and you're reading this letter, I do not know if my cousin is alive. If Harry Potter is dead or otherwise, please write back, I would like to know. Address is on the front.

A small gasp escaped his lips. He didn't even think to contact the Dursleys and inform them… that it was over or anything. They sacrificed their life for a year too…. Would he ever see them again? Perhaps not, there was a hope.

So distracted by this new development, he wrote back immediately, summoning the only pen he owned.

Big D!

I was so surprised to get your birthday letter. I am fine. Everything worked out and we're all getting back to normal. I am headed to school next month for my final year. I have a girlfriend too, her name is Ginny. She is smarter than me and she is (just as athletic? Dudley didn't know about wizarding sports) easily one of the most talented girls at our school. There were a lot of close calls last year but… (but what?) everyone is okay (that's a lie) and I look forward to finishing my last year (also a lie.) If you need to reach me, please write at this address as my mail gets forwarded to me. Let Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia know that I am safe (that will just disappoint them.)

PS, tell Aunt Petunia Snape sends his love.

He didn't know what made him write… that. The very idea was too daring and just too tempting not to include, picturing her shocked and appalled reaction if Dudley dared ever say that name in her pristine kitchen. 'Snape sends his love.' He smiled, maybe his first one in weeks. Scrawling the return address, he realized he didn't have stamps to send it. Well, it would have to wait until later anyway.

Well… a letter from Dudley… This was enough to shock him out of bed and downstairs for a bit of toast.

Sirius' old bedroom was far the worst, but downstairs did not look much better. All of the dishes were dirty and there was almost no food left. But that was just a small part of the mess: empty boxes and cans laid on the counters, Prophets in odd places, and clothes lined couches and covered chairs. He sighed at the state of things, praying again no one would ambush him today. He placed the large parcel of food from Mrs. Weasley on the kitchen counter. He was planning on having a proper breakfast: eggs, bacon, and toast, but he rifled through the food greedily, eating straight from the box and sinking his teeth into some ham.

A window opened and shut on its own accord upstairs. Harry froze mid-chew. What would Moody say? But no, the war was over, no need to be that suspicious. He drew his wand anyway and slowly left his kitchen to stalk the sitting room. Peering in the doorway, sun illuminated a letter on a table that just flew in from a closed window. Harry got closer and stared at it, unable to move, wand not put away yet.

It could have been a Howler for the fear this little white envelope provoked. But why?

The small white letter laying innocently on the table gave him a sense of foreboding. Suspiciously thin. Menacingly thin. It must have taken special magic to bypass all his mail spells that he specifically requested from none other than the Minister of Magic himself, who was receiving an equal amount of mail at this time. Harry edged closer to the little dangerous letter seeing the thin cramped handwriting on the front.

Opening it, the letter was short, the small writing taking up barely any space on the parchment.

Potter,

Draco Malfoy is scheduled for a hearing on August 15th at 10:00am in Courtroom twenty-two. The truth will suffice.

Severus Snape

The letter was so short and so disappointing Harry turned the letter over, the thicker part of his brain half expecting to see "Happy Birthday" written there, or anything else at all. The letter was just as short, blunt, practical, and socially worthless as he expected any personal letter from Snape to be.

Harry fumed.

After everything… after everything he saw in the Pensive, not to mention both of them nearly dying, this was the letter he received? Summoning parchment and quill, he thought of a very angry reply to his 'birthday letter' ...but then remembered he didn't have an owl to send it.

Tossing that letter aside too, he looked around his abysmal sitting room and frowned. The used plates, the clothes on the floor and furniture, the smell… this was getting out of control. Harry was so angry he began to gather up his clothes by hand.

Snape alive was just as awkward as him being dead… no, death would have been preferable. Simpler. Out of everyone Harry could have picked to survive, Snape just seemed like bad luck. He would have gladly traded him for Lupin… or Fred. Or any of the students, just on principle alone.

Following the immediate aftershock of the Battle of Hogwarts, sometime that morning, Harry managed to tell McGonagall that Snape was killed in the Shrieking Shack. She went herself to retrieve the body, and Harry did not hear that Snape was alive until an entire month after the fact through some mumblings at a Death Eater's trial.

Apparently, the only reason why they failed to cart Snape off immediately to Azkaban was because he was too ill to leave St. Mungo's. Was he out now? Did he actually just throw a letter right through his window?

And what was he going to say to Snape after everything he'd seen? After everything he knew? Harry couldn't even begin to contemplate existence around him now. If Draco was going to have a trial, Snape would probably get one too.

Harry was sick of going to trials, being dragged as a witness to every Death Eater's prosecution just for show. He was barely needed: all he had to say was 'yes, that one was at the Battle of Hogwarts, I saw him for three seconds while I was running around with my head cut off' and that was worth more to the prosecution than the testimony of the wizard who actually fought the Death Eater. One more trial like that and he would stop going.

If being an Auror meant he had to go to court every week, well, he just had about enough of it. But he already bargained with Kingsley he'd start next year, and Ron was counting on him. It would be cowardice to back out now.

Kingsley kept promising Draco would not get charged, but here the court date was being forced through his window, one week after McGonagall's letter.

"This is not a dictatorship, Potter," Kingsley said to him, "I'm not supposed to have all the power in these decisions. That's what we're fighting for- collective decision making."

What would Harry even say at the trial? 'Draco and his friends tried to stop me from taking a Horcrux, but never mind that, I don't think he'll try anything now.'

Lucius' hearing was not pleasant but it was at least quick. Draco watched in the back looking thin and white while Harry simply confirmed Lucius was in with Lord Voldemort but was a prisoner in his own manor, and did not participate in the Battle of Hogwarts (that he knows about.) At Narcissa's trial Harry vehemently defended her, claiming to the entire Wizengamot with forceful authority that Narcissa was wandless and outnumbered, intercepted his fallen body, lied to Voldemort, saved his life, and turned the tide at the Battle of Hogwarts in its final hour.

She was not charged while Lucius must serve his previous sentence before he was broken out of Azkaban. Harry felt guilty. Yes, he deserved it, but still felt bad for Draco, whose face followed his father being led away in chains. In the next month Kingsley secured a lighter sentence for full cooperation… the Ministry receiving a donation so large it was surely half the Malfoy's vault.

Two weeks. He had two weeks until he had to go to the Ministry again. It may have been just because it was his birthday, but he felt a little lighter today. Yes, today, pick yourself up today. He would have to focus, clean, and maybe send some long overdue owls.