For Whom The Bell Tolls

Explosions deafened his ears. The castle crumbled around them. He could see nothing in the darkness but the continuous set of blazing lights throughout the courtyard. The snake launched itself at him from behind the tattered, wooden stairs. There was a scream from upstairs, and a mad cackle he'd heard before. The house began exploding around them. The red spell struck its target, pushing it into the stone arch. Fire roared as it began consuming the entire Room of Requirement. Moans and groans. Cries of pain. A venomous green light lit the dark forest for a moment as a woman screamed.

"Harry!"

A scream from within the room woke him up, launching him upright. Harry began to immediately look around him, his eyes searching frantically for any threat through the blurriness of his vision. But there was no one else with him. He had been the one who screamed. Harry threw himself backwards, his pillow comforting his fall as his heart pushed at his lungs. It bounced all over his insides, nearly shoving them out of place, and Harry had to force himself to take a steadying breath to calm himself down. But he knew it wouldn't be enough.

It had barely been two weeks since what was being called the Battle of Hogwarts, and yet Harry felt as if an entire lifetime had passed. So much had happened over the past fortnight, as people celebrated and mourned after news of Voldemort's death spread across the country. The entire Ministry had been overhauled, with Kingsley being named emergency Minister for Magic until Britain could bring itself to its feet, and McGonagall had wasted no time in beginning the reconstruction of the decimated castle that had hosted the largest wizarding battle on British soil.

The country was moving on… and yet he only felt as if he was regressing.

It had been a couple of years since he'd had constant nightmares. The summer before his fifth year had been especially punishing in that regard. Harry had been sure he'd managed to overcome them. After all, he hadn't had any more after the battle at the Department of Mysteries once Voldemort began to fear entering his mind. He'd assumed Voldemort was the one putting those nightmares in his head just for a laugh. But it had now become clear that wasn't the case. And Harry couldn't understand why now, after all that had happened, after finally being able to grasp the fact that there may just be a light at the end of the tunnel, his mind had started tormenting him again.

It was a closely guarded secret, something he hadn't even told Ron or Hermione because they seemed to be free of his curse. And with Ron's family still grieving for Fred's passing, and Hermione on her final preparations to go down to Australia and search for her parents, they had enough on their plates. This was his cross to bear, he wouldn't hand it over to someone else. Even if it meant restless nights that left him to sleepwalk through his days. But Harry didn't let them get to him. Not today of all days.

A cup of hot tea brought warmth to his chest as the tension in his body slowly ebbed out. And by the time Harry had gotten out of the shower and somewhat dried himself, his long mop of wet hair was still dripping onto the wrinkly white shirt he'd grabbed from the floor and sniffed a couple of times before shrugging and putting it on, the sun had begun to rise and light up the still eerie halls of Grimmauld Place. He went about his morning ablutions, not bothering on doing them quickly, and it was only once he'd finished fixing himself up and even somewhat combing the spiky mess that his hair had become that he finally exited the house.

And as the sun began to fade behind the thick, gray clouds forming above, Harry couldn't help but feel his chest tightening as the warmth from the morning tea had already begun to be stripped away.

With the number of clouds that had begun to gather since early morning, it wasn't a surprise that it would be a rainy day. It wasn't just London, Ottery St Catchpole had proved itself to be just as uninviting. But both seemed almost tame as they faced the deluge assaulting Scotland. The wind pushed at the trees around them, sending leaves flying everywhere as the water crashing on the multitude of umbrellas aided in drowning out McGonagall's drawn-out speech, leaving Harry to wonder if it was meant to commiserate with everyone as they buried the last remains of their innocence or to uplift the crowd and promise that any good would come out of it. Either way, it was pointless in Harry's eyes.

The funeral had been as public as an affair could get. Logically, he could understand why Kingsley had designed it that way. It was a way of putting the war to rest, a resonant scream proclaiming the beginning of a new era to every witch and wizard on the island. But it still gnawed at him. The people they were burying had given their lives for him. For the most remote chance at a new life. Their deaths shouldn't be paraded around, their families shouldn't be forced to feel every flash from the cameras surrounding the scene as they said farewell to the people they loved. Those that were taken away in a madman's shit fit about his own vulnerability.

The funeral shouldn't have been for the people who would glance at the headline for a moment, closing their eyes in the barest attempt at commiseration before using the paper to clean up their dog's latest accidental urine. It shouldn't be for the reporters or politicians or teachers that came in to give a heartfelt speech before washing their hands and moving on to other problems. It shouldn't even be about their families or friends, those who fought with them but by sheer dumb luck managed to survive.

It should be for them. A tribute to their lives, to the sacrifices they made. Something that every new firstie would see as they trekked up to the castle for the first time without it having bombarded through every publication before everyone suddenly forgot about it. These people didn't receive any awards or recognition during their life, nor did most of the surviving fighters of the Battle of Hogwarts. This wasn't honouring, it was exploitation.

Harry struggled to keep his umbrella upright as the wind fought to tear it away from his grip. His hand was aching from how tight he was holding it. But he didn't let go. He felt Ginny's small figure beside him, the heat that emanated from her burning a hole in his black dress robes as she stared straight and did her best not to cry. To his other side were Ron and Hermione, with the latter holding her boyfriend in a side embrace tightly as he mourned his brother's death. All the Weasleys were there, and though he was vaguely aware of their current states as the funeral went on, his world began to gradually close in until he only felt the four of them standing right beside the Black Lake.

For a moment, there was no one around them. No people, no voices, not a single sign of life beyond the four of them. Only the harsh weather assaulted them as they stared at the tall, stone slabs that had etched the name of the Fallen Fifty. The sound began draining from his ears, leaving only a barely noticeable ringing before his whole world suddenly exploded. Their cries. Their pleas. Hogwarts was falling all around them as walls were blasted and curses were flying. And though his eyes deceived him with the empty calm in front of him, he knew he was back in a battle.

"Harry," Ginny's voice urged as she pulled at his shoulder. "Come on."

"What?" He blinked a couple of times, the sound dissipating gradually as it was replaced with the thunderous rage of the storm above them.

"It's over. Let's go."

People began scattering around them, with smaller and smaller groups forming. Harry let Ginny grab his hand and pull him about, relishing every time he heard the crack of apparition that signalled they were closer to being alone. Ginny was a godsend, keeping all the nosy reporters and other invitees away from him. Whenever they wondered if they could approach, or some more foolishly skip that stage and walk over either way, Ginny sent a murderous glare towards them, making them rethink their entire life. He knew the last thing she wanted right now was to be pestered by strangers, her or anyone in her family. Harry was only reaping the rewards of it, and a part of him felt sick for feeling any sort of satisfaction about it.

It was only after nearly all the guests had left, leaving only select members of the Order standing before the memorial, that Mrs Weasley offered to use the Burrow to host a more private wake. And though Harry felt the claustrophobia begin to crawl over his skin the moment he entered the house, it slowly began shoving him to the corner of the room with how crowded it was. But even then, Harry felt more relaxed than he had all week.

Nevertheless, a cloud still hung above the Burrow as everyone had subdued conversations. McGonagall had sat in the kitchen with Aberforth and Kingsley, the three of them discussing the future of Hogwarts and the Ministry with someone or another occasionally sitting down and joining their conversation. Hagrid and Charlie had taken to the corner of the living room, as the former questioned the latter on his experiences at the keep in Romania. Andromeda and Mrs Weasley had disappeared into the house, along with Mr Weasley, leaving only Harry and Hermione with the rest of the Weasleys.

Ginny had stayed at his side, squeezing his hand and resting her head on his shoulder, supporting him without ever saying a word. It was something he couldn't help but love about her, something he noticed even before they started dating. Whenever either Ron or Hermione tried to encourage him, they'd tried to find the right words or just avoid the topic altogether. But Ginny knew him, knew when he needed to hear her voice or when he just needed her presence with him. She never pushed him on something he didn't want, never tried to force her will onto him. And he needed that now more than ever.

Thankfully, he wasn't the centre of attention in this little group. There were no eyes constantly on him or people trying to bring him into the conversation. He could rest and enjoy the quiet even if it was for only a little bit. Besides, George needed the attention more. After what happened to Fred, any remnants of the jolly prankster he was had been stripped away. Harry hadn't seen as much of a smile come from the boy's mouth, not that he could blame him. And his brothers tried to cheer him up, saying or doing anything to get any reaction from George, but it wasn't working. It wouldn't work.

Harry knew it better than most.

"Harry," a voice called out to him from the other side of the room. He looked up, seeing as Mrs Weasley and Andromeda re-entered the house and stood up.

"I'm going back home," Andromeda told him when he reached her. "Are you coming later tonight?"

Shit. It was Saturday. How could he have forgotten it was a Saturday?

"Yeah," he put a small smile on his face. "I'll come by and pick Teddy up in a couple of hours."

"Thank you, Harry," the older witch told him warmly, grabbing his arm. "I know you're eighteen and would probably rather do a hundred other things than care for a newborn-"

"Andromeda," Harry interrupted her with a firm yet soft voice. "I'm his godfather. It's the least I could do."

"Remus and Nymphadora didn't know what it would mean when they made you Teddy's godfather. I don't expect they thought they would both pass away before he was even a month old. Besides, I know a whole load of teens who would have fled at the responsibility."

"I've been hunted by Voldemort ever since my first year at Hogwarts. Taking care of Teddy for a weekend is going to be literal child's play compared to that."

Andromeda laughed. "We'll see what you think on Monday morning."

Harry rolled his eyes but forced a smile nonetheless. Sure, Teddy was still a bit young and there would be little to do with the kid other than making sure he didn't fall out of his crib in the middle of the night. But a sureness dazzled from Andromeda's eyes as if she believed it would bring him back to his days on the hunt where it was just Hermione and him, adrift and barely eating.

"Oh, and Harry," Andromeda said a bit pointedly as she opened the door. "It's Andi."

"Right," he chuckled. "Andi."

With a final, though temporary, goodbye, Andi left, the crack of her apparition signalling her departure only a few seconds after. But as Harry turned to walk back to his seat beside Ginny, Kingsley called him over with a diplomatic smile. So much for peace and quiet. Regardless of his internal grumblings, Harry pulled out a chair and sat beside Aberforth.

"Anything I can help you with, Minister?" Harry asked sardonically, though in as light of a tone as he could muster. "No other Dark Lords you need me to fight, I hope?"

"Potter," McGonagall warned, though there was no heat in her voice.

"There's no harm, Professor McGonagall," Kingsley gave a deep laugh and waved her off. "But it's just Kingsley if you don't mind, Harry. I believe we've known each other long enough to be on a first-name basis."

"We have. But given my experience with the past two Ministers, I rather think my summoning is for more than simply a friendly catch-up thank you," Harry looked up as Mrs Weasley handed him a cup of tea before she carried on and delivered more to the people in the living room.

Kingsley raised his hands, his expression was still jovial. "Guilty as charged."

"Never mind his intentions, Potter," McGonagall said. "I wouldn't have allowed Kingsley to call you over had he not given me his word he has no intentions of propping you up as a dancing monkey for his own benefit."

"It wouldn't be for my benefit, rather the country's-"

"Kingsley."

Kingsley sighed theatrically before nodding. "There will be no indoctrination happening in this conversation."

McGonagall eyed him suspiciously but relented nonetheless.

"Then why am I here?" Harry asked.

"The Professor and the Minister were merely curious as to what you'll be doing now that the war's over," Aberforth said bluntly.

"So this is just the preparation for the indoctrination?"

"Aye."

"No," McGonagall said firmly, casting a look at Aberforth before turning back to Harry. "We're curious, yes, about what it is you'll do next. Whether you like to admit it or not, Potter, your mere name is enough to turn heads. Whatever you do will be watched, and studied, it will speak to the people of Britain and even influence what they do. With Voldemort dead, and most of his followers captured and in the process of being sent to Azkaban for life, you've done your part. You're an adult now and the war has ended… Whatever you do next, that is on you. And even if I would rather you return to complete your final year at Hogwarts in case the castle is finished in time for the next term, or if Kingsley here would like to see you more involved at the Ministry-"

"I haven't even claimed interest," Kingsley attempted to defend himself.

"It's written all over your face," Aberforth said tersely.

"It is your life now…" McGonagall continued, ignoring the two men. "It's up to you to decide what it is you do with it now. None of us will interfere with that."

"And I appreciate it," Harry said sincerely. "But the truth is, with the war having just ended and Teddy and everything that has happened since… Well, I haven't put much thought into my future. But I'll tell you as soon as I know."

Kingsley and McGonagall seemingly accepted that answer and after a bit of mandatory small talk, Harry was finally let go. But instead of returning to the living room, Harry made a turn for the bathroom, and after making sure no one had followed him, he sneaked out the backdoor and into the starry night.

He gave a shaky sigh as he stepped back into the rain, conjuring an umbrella to shield himself, Harry walked a few paces before he stopped. Staring at the grey horizon and free of all the people that had been surrounding him, Harry was left alone with his thoughts once more. And though it wasn't something he had enjoyed recently, Kingsley and McGonagall's interrogation had left him with more than a few quandaries he had to ponder.

Even though he'd been expecting it, Harry had done nothing to prepare for the conversation he just had. It had been easy to avoid thinking about the future. In all the eventualities and pictures of how life would be after the war was done… he wasn't in any of them. It hadn't been his priority, and even before he knew he was a Horcrux, he had always thought that war would end with him dead. But he was still here, alive and breathing, and left to deal with the fallout of it all.

Left to wonder what it was he was going to do with his life after he'd gone and fulfilled the entire purpose for his existence.

A few minutes passed before he heard the door behind him creak. It had taken her longer than he'd thought, but she had come nonetheless. Harry didn't have to turn around for confirmation, and before he knew it he felt two small hands hug his middle before she pressed a kiss to his back.

"There you are."

"I'm sorry I left you like that," Harry said in a low voice, turning around, making sure they were both covered by the umbrella before looking down at the gorgeous sight of his girlfriend's face. "I just needed some air."

"It's alright," Ginny gave him a small smile. "Are you okay?"

"Just the funeral, you know. I didn't think it would hit as hard as it did."

"I know the feeling." Entwining her hands across his neck, Ginny bent him down slightly as she captured his mouth with a kiss. It wasn't soft or impassioned, but there was a very potent need in it that Harry reciprocated. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close, focusing on the feeling of her lips on him as his mind cleared itself of all its troubles.

"You didn't have to do that, you know?" Harry said when they pulled apart, his voice rough and his breathing hard.

"Whatever gave you the impression it was just for you?" Ginny's voice sent his stomach fluttering, and Harry couldn't help himself as he pulled her close once again.

"Oh, shite-" Harry and Ginny turned to find Ron and Hermione had just stepped out of the house.

"Sorry," Hermione squeaked out, her face red as she began to move her hands wildly and babble. "Ron and I, well, we were worried. At first, we thought you had gone to the loo, but when you weren't there. And Ginny wasn't there. We got worried it was something worse, and we came out to look for you and-"

"It's fine, Hermione," Ginny laughed, calling the couple over to them and conjuring them another umbrella.

"So everything is okay?" Hermione asked tentatively once she and Ron were covered under the umbrella.

"They looked more than okay to me, I don't know what you- ow!" Ron rubbed his elbow where Hermione had hit him.

"Yeah, we're both okay," Harry chuckled. "We just wanted some air."

"Is that what you two crazy kids are calling it these da- ow! Bloody hell, Hermione. Can't a bloke make a joke around here?"

Harry and Ginny laughed at Ron's discomfort, as Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Honestly," she muttered to herself.

"What did McGonagall and Kingsley want, mate?" Ron asked Harry, eager to move on to a topic that wouldn't earn him a bruise. "Was it… well… secret Order stuff?"

"You-Know-Who's dead," Ginny said. "What else could they want from Harry?"

"I mean, yeah, but there are still a lot of Death Eaters around. I heard the Aurors are trying to round them up before they find a way to flee from the country, or worse, start the whole war back up again."

"Surely they wouldn't."

"They're mad bastards, Hermione," Ron shrugged. "There's no question their resistance would be stopped by the Ministry, we're past the worst of it. But still, they might just be pissed enough they'd rather do some more damage as a final fuck you for killing their leader."

"It was not about the Death Eaters," Harry spoke up. "Well, not overtly. And I'm pretty sure you're overestimating them, Ron."

"Then what was it about?" Ginny asked.

"Me. Or well, what I would do now that I'm supposed to be a responsible adult and Voldemort's dead? They wanted to know if I'd return to Hogwarts or help out the Ministry or if I'd do something else."

"And what did you tell them?" Ron asked.

"That I don't bloody know," Harry snorted. "I don't even know what I'm having for dinner tonight, much less what I'm going to do for the rest of my life. I just gave them a nice smile and asked them oh so kindly to pester me some other time."

"They tried to talk to me the other day as well," Hermione confessed.

"Kingsley and McGonagall?" Harry asked.

"Yes. It was all pretty much like what happened with you. Asking what were my plans now and everything. I told them I was planning on returning to Hogwarts, but anything beyond that I'd think about it after we came back. With organising everything to go find my parents, I just haven't had the time to think much about the future."

"You guys are going already?" Harry asked.

"Tomorrow," Ron answered. "Bloody early the portkey's gonna go off, I don't think I'll manage to stay awake for even half of the day before my body shuts itself off."

"Which will be perfect given the time differences," Hermione bristled.

"I… I didn't know."

"It's alright, Harry," Hermione waved him off, and even after Harry looked her over for any signs of falsity, he still felt like a shit friend. "I know you want to be there for Teddy, I wasn't about to rip you away from that. We don't even know how long it's going to take me to find my parents, or if bringing their memory back will even be possible. It could be a whole month before we get back."

"And will you too be okay on your own?" Ginny asked from beside him.

"Kingsley has pulled a few favours. Australia's Minister for Magic has agreed to have a couple of Aurors help us get settled and help us in case we need anything."

"We'll be fine," Ron said. "It's not like people will be hunting us down and trying to kill us. Compared to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, this feels more like a holiday trip than anything."

It was true. After spending an entire year being hunted by Snatchers and Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, there didn't seem to be any danger ahead for his friends. Still, the fearful expression on Hermione's face as the topic of her parents dawned on her made Harry wish Ron was right about the whole thing.

Getting killed or tortured wasn't the only way they could get hurt.