A week passed. Perhaps the worst week in Harry's life, which was truly saying something. Each morning, he would wake up, expecting to find Matthew in the bunk beside him. And, if that didn't come to fruition, he'd hope to see his friend down in the common room, sitting upon his armchair that had most steadfastly become his over the years. When that invariably didn't happen, he'd envisage Matthew working away in the Tardis, about to appear at any moment to whisk him away on an adventure.

Each morning, he was let down and made to relive the death over again.

The worst part was that life was expected to go on. Classes resumed and homework piled up, with their OWLs right around the corner. For once, the professors were lenient, giving Harry and Hermione the understanding they needed when they were absent from lessons or when their work wasn't up to standard. For Harry, he tried to avoid this outcome as best he could, feeling that the workload would distract him sufficiently from the horrors of reality. He was more concerned about Hermione, in truth, who'd never slacked in her life. Now, she didn't seem to have the heart to put the effort in.

He considered talking to her, of course. He considered having a frank discussion with her about how Matthew wouldn't want her to throw away her chances at the top grades just because of him. Hermione had made it clear over the years that achieving academic perfection was her ultimate goal so to see her wavering was an alarming sight, to put it mildly. But Harry never worked up the nerve to speak to her about anything of substance, knowing that she needed her time to grieve. All he could do was be there for her, and that was what he did, throughout every day that went by.

At times, he would attempt to convince himself that they should have been used to the absence. After all, Matthew hadn't been a constant presence at Hogwarts for a couple of months, as if fate was preparing them for this very situation. And yet it couldn't have felt more different. Back then, there'd always been a chance that the evening would come by and the Tardis would be by the dormitory window, with Matthew planning another vigorous training session. The hope of adventure and the hope of exploring more about the inner workings of themselves had faded away with their friend.

Seeing the body changed things for Harry. Up to that point, he'd been able to hide away from the truth, fully believing that it was all some elaborate ploy by Matthew. Perhaps he'd needed to disappear to catch Voldemort unawares or to successfully steal another horcrux. There had been plenty of other explanations for his 'death' that wrapped around Harry like a warm blanket in the night. Upon seeing his friend lying in front of him, his face pale and unmoving, there was no longer any reasonable way to cling onto a false sense of hope.

The funeral was a small affair, mainly because Matthew had kept his circle of confidants to a minimum. Sirius and Lupin, looking much smarter and refined than usual, had stood behind Harry, a constant source of reassurance. Hermione had been supported by her parents, with Dumbledore leading the muted service. The whole event mirrored the circumstances in which they'd first learnt of Matthew's fate and it left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth. The only difference had been Emilia's presence, who'd chosen to pay her respects for the boy who'd sacrificed himself in her name.

The coverage by the Prophet didn't help matters. With the Ministry looking to preserve its fragile alliance with the school and Dumbledore, it had used the newspaper to glorify Matthew's death. The stories celebrated his sacrifice, branding him as a hero. Harry knew that Matthew would have hated it all, especially when the Prophet had been used as a tool against them in the past. For Harry, it served as a reminder of how two-faced parts of society could be, meaning he'd never know who was on his side. Hadn't the Prophet just been used to speculate about Matthew's true origins following Umbridge's revelation? Now, they couldn't love him more.

Hermione grew more closed off. Katherine and Peter suggested that she return home for a brief period, but she refused. Harry got the sense that she made that decision for his benefit rather than her own, as if she thought he'd need her by his side. It couldn't have been more true. What he would have done if he'd been without both of his friends, he didn't know. He likely would have broken down more completely than he eventually had done. Even when she was mourning, Hermione was worrying about him and Harry didn't know how to properly thank her.

His gratitude was shown in the understanding he gave her whenever she acted out of character. He didn't complain when she disappeared to her room for extended stretches, presumably wanting to keep her tears private. He didn't question her silence when they were with one another, when conversation was hard to come by. She was dealing with the situation in her own way and, if that involved retreating into her shell, he would accept that. But not for long.

So Harry was mightily relieved when she appeared at the end of that first week, landing heavily on the sofa he'd been sitting on. For once, her head was not bowed nor were her eyes refusing to meet his gaze. Instead, she stared at him with a steely determination, which should have warned him about what was to come. He should have realised that the next words out of her mouth would lead to trouble but he'd been so happy to see at least a small spark of the girl he knew returning to him that Harry didn't care.

"I want to see it."

"Absolutely out of the question," Sirius argued once they brought the proposition to those in charge.

Once again, they found themselves in Dumbledore's office, though they were just joined this time by the headmaster and Harry's godfather. The latter man was shaking his head, looking at them with an incredulous expression, as if he couldn't actually believe what they were suggesting. Dumbledore, on the other hand, wore a gaze of soft understanding, like he'd already anticipated this request eventually landing in front of him.

"I have every right to do this," Hermione said, standing firm.

"The right to get yourself killed? Haven't you learnt anything from recent events?"

"Sirius," Harry warned. "That's not fair."

"Nothing is fair! The fact that you're having to stand here, going through what you have, isn't fair. I've failed to keep you away from any more pain, so I'm going to be damn sure that I do the job properly from here on in."

"What happened to Matthew wasn't your fault."

"I know that. But what if something happens to you on this stupid trip you've planned? How would I live with myself, knowing that I allowed you to go back to the scene of the crime?"

"It's not a 'stupid' trip, as you put it," Hermione countered. "It's something that I need to do. And I think it would help Harry too."

"Perhaps it would be prudent to let them do this," Dumbledore suggested. "I'm sure it would be quite a cathartic experience. One that might help in some small or large way in the process of emotional recovery."

"I always knew you were losing your mind, old man," Sirius growled. "But this is taking the biscuit. You can't be serious!"

"Deathly, I'm afraid."

"It makes sense from a tactical standpoint too," Hermione said. "The Tardis has been left in the middle of Diagon Alley. What if more Death Eaters paid another visit to somehow retrieve it? I dread to think what they'd learn if they tore it apart."

"Voldemort was obviously interested and intimidated by Matthew's abilities," Harry added. "It'd stand to reason that he'd want to claim the ship that helped Matthew save us last year."

"The whole point of it still being there could be a lure to bring you out into the open," Sirius pointed out. "What happens if they ambush you?"

"Then I look forward to getting some payback against them for what they did."

"Normally, I'd stand against that sort of mindset," Hermione reasoned. "But I can't stop thinking along the same lines. Let them rear their ugly heads. If they choose to underestimate us, then let that be on their conscience."

Dumbledore held up a hand before they got carried away. "There's no need to plan any schemes for revenge. I'm sure the purpose of visiting the Tardis has more to do with simply saying goodbye to your departed friend, adding a final chapter to this sordid tale."

"You're right. And it doesn't deserve to stand alone forever. The Tardis is too…brilliant to let it just collect dust like it's some long forgotten statue."

"In truth, I visited the ship shortly after the incident, in the hope of removing it from prying eyes. Yet it remained stubbornly closed off from my attempts. My question is…how do you aim to fare any better?"

Hermione deftly moved her hand to the collar of her shirt, pulling out a rough piece of string, with a metallic object dangling on it. "Because he gave me the key."

Harry didn't know how to feel about that as he stared at the unusual necklace. Should he have been jealous that Matthew had chosen her to gift such a valuable item? Should he have been surprised, when he already knew how deep their connection had been? Did it show that their relationship had meant more to Matthew, or was it just defined by different parameters? What stung the most was probably the fact that Hermione had kept it to herself up until now. It was obvious that she'd just been wanting to keep such a tender connection private, but Harry couldn't help but think she'd partly been secretive to prevent him from reacting negatively.

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed. "Excellent! I think that proves that you have every right to do this, if you so wish. After all, you appear to now be the owner of the ship."

"Will you just think rationally?" Sirius persisted.

"I will escort them personally to Diagon Alley, if that eases your concerns. No harm will befall them. I'm sure, if there was an attack, they'd be much more interested in trying to kill me instead."

Which was how they came to be standing in the shopping district when they should have been in the dungeons of the school. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have been glad to have been missing a session of Double Potions with Snape and the Slytherins, but nothing seemed to carry the same level of joy as it once had done. The street was understandably quiet, with the community still reeling from the attack. That was probably a good thing, seeing as it would give them an unexpected level of privacy. The majority of the shops were closed, with blinds drawn across the windows. The air was thick with fear.

"I rather hoped that I would never have to see our world looking like this again," the headmaster remarked as they slowly walked along the cobbles. "But it is just like last time, when we previously fought against Voldemort's forces. People are too frightened to go about their normal lives, instead opting to isolate themselves as a form of protection. Matthew's fate simply accelerated the process, highlighting that anyone could be attacked anywhere and at any moment. When you look at it from that perspective, Voldemort's main power doesn't necessarily stem from his magic, but from his reputation and his ability to make the world increasingly darker without even having to show his face."

Neither Harry or Hermione felt much like talking, and even Dumbledore took the hint that silence was preferable. So the casual stroll was a strange one, with the three of them doing their best to look normal, whilst simultaneously being some of the most well known people in wizarding society. It was weird for Harry to look upon Diagon Alley as it now was. He remembered what it had been like when he'd first stepped foot past the magical brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron. It had sparkled and shone, as any new world would. It was dark now, a shell of its former self, and it seemed to resemble how a lot of the fun had been taken from his magical life.

Seeing the Tardis again was another experience that left his head struggling to make sense of the situation. Any moment, he expected Matthew to barge through those doors but they remained painfully closed. A wooden box shouldn't have been able to convey such strong emotions, yet it permeated an overwhelming wave of sadness, as if the Tardis was grieving just as much as them. It had been raining, leaving the exterior damp, giving the impression that it had almost been crying.

Harry was extremely proud of Hermione as she closed the distance first, walking on surprisingly strong legs. Not that he ever doubted her, but he'd thought she'd be the one to struggle the most. Her hand rested against the door for a few moments, pausing before taking the next step. That strength she'd been conveying wavered somewhat as she grasped the key, her hand visibly shaking during her attempts to find the lock. It took a couple of goes before she was successful, though neither of her companions commented on her difficulties.

"I'll give you two a moment alone," Dumbledore said once the door was open. "I'll be standing guard outside if you need me at any point."

Harry nodded his head gratefully at the headmaster, following his friend into the ship. With the doors promptly closing behind them, they were cut off from the rest of the world, enveloped by the embrace of the Tardis. It felt larger than usual, emptier. Though that was to be expected when such a domineering presence had been removed from it. The lights were dimmed and didn't show any signs of brightening any time soon. Each footstep they took echoed ominously, making them feel as if they were trespassing upon forbidden ground.

Giving Hermione the space she needed as she perused the console room, Harry allowed himself to take in some of the features. He didn't know whether he'd ever be standing there again, depending on what Hermione chose to do with it. Would this be the last time he got to experience its magnificence, even if it was somewhat diluted at the moment? It was yet another element that brought home Matthew's death, stabbing him in the heart and threatening to cripple him. The tears wanted to fall but Hermione needed him to be strong. She came first.

It didn't feel right to be alone in the ship, even if they were only separated by a level. Hermione had wandered up to the raised platform, examining the console. Harry joined her, leaning against the railings and watching her work. She was dragging her hands softly against the instruments, like she was trying to coax some life into the old girl. Whatever she was doing, it wasn't proving to be successful, but that didn't appear to be stopping her.

Her back was to him for a couple of seconds and, by the time she next looked at him, her eyes were alarmingly wet. With the sniffing of her nose becoming the soundtrack to their exploration, Harry quickly made his way over to her, providing the comfort she needed in the form of a hug. Her face went into his chest, with her tears no doubt dampening his shirt. He didn't notice, nor did he care. Witnessing the way her body was wracked with sobs was enough to make any other thoughts leave his mind, putting all of his energy into the embrace.

That lasted a few minutes, one of the few times that Hermione had unabashedly shown her emotions in front of him. If only it hadn't taken something so extreme to make it happen. When the cries subsided, or at least mellowed, she risked showing her face, looking both embarrassed and mortified at what she'd done. Harry's corresponding smile was supportive and understanding, silently telling her that she didn't need to apologise for the cathartic release.

"It's silly," she mumbled, wiping her eyes once they separated. "I just thought that…he might have left something behind. A message, perhaps. Something to properly say goodbye. Or…or instructions to fix everything that has gone wrong."

"It's not silly at all," Harry assured her. "I still keep thinking that he's got one trick left up his sleeve. And it hurts so much when I'm repeatedly let down."

"I feel sorry for the Tardis, really."

"How so?"

"Well, she's always been there with him, hasn't she? When he was all alone…before he knew us…the Tardis was all he had. And the way he spoke about her…it was like they were a duo, not two individuals. I can't imagine what she's feeling, knowing that he's gone."

"Do you think she can? You know…feel?"

"I'm not too sure. I think there are too many wonders in this place to be explained. But Matthew seemed to think so, at least. He certainly talked to her like she was a living consciousness."

"Now I'm remembering all the private conversations he'd have with the console right in front of us," Harry said with a fond smirk on his face.

"Always using her to back him up in arguments." It was the first time he'd seen Hermione smile since the attack. "I never stood a chance whenever that happened."

"It wasn't as bad as when you and Matthew would team up."

She eyed him curiously. "Meaning?"

"Whenever you combined your powers…and I'm not talking about magic here…you were basically unstoppable. And I was usually caught in the middle of it."

Harry plonked himself onto the nearby step, Hermione joining him as they reminisced. "I suppose we were a good match."

"Even before you…you know…got together. In the early days, it was frightening when you put your brains together."

"Only because we were both competing with one another, even if it looked like we were working as one. Neither of us wanted to be shown up by the other. I'd never had an academic rival like that before. It's no wonder then…"

Her eyes glazed over and Harry took pity on her, finishing her sentence. "...that you fell for him?"

"Oh, Harry." She rested her head against his shoulder. "I miss him. I really miss him."

"I know. So do I."

"I keep finding myself with things that I'd usually say to him…but he's never there. Coming back to the Tardis, I thought there might…be some imprint he'd left behind. That's the only reason I wanted to do this. It's not as if I could remotely pilot the ship. I wouldn't even know where to start."

"We could search deeper in the Tardis. You never know with how many rooms there are. There could be something."

"I appreciate you trying to keep my spirits up."

"I'm being sincere! You know what Matthew is like. He'd hide something away, making it really difficult to find…"

"...like some sort of test. He was always testing us."

"We might stumble upon something like a portrait. Matthew once said that they're a great way of keeping a memory alive. Maybe he was laying down the groundwork for us to figure out that he's had one waiting all along, waiting for this moment."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I don't know whether I'd like that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd probably spend all my time with it, talking to it, believing that it was actually him . But it'd be false, just an impression of Matthew. I think I'd rather have nothing than some cheap copy."

"I guess it would be a lot like the Mirror of Erised. You know, showing us something we can never have until we give up with reality."

"Precisely. Though I'm still grateful for you coming up with ideas to distract me."

"We could still explore? We've got time. And, even if we don't discover the secret to bringing him back, we could still learn more about him. I reckon that's the best way of keeping him alive."

"I'm not really in the mood for lessons today either." Her smile was hollow. "Matthew would have loved to hear me saying that."

Harry stood up, offering her a hand. "Come on. I'll just tell Dumbledore that we're going to be longer than expected."

After helping Hermione up, he quickly raced down the final few steps, pushing open the doors…and then immediately keeled over in pain. Before he knew what was happening, he was on the ground, his knees skidding painfully against the rough cobbles. His head was being tortured with a searing pain. If someone was to take a knife to his skull, he reckoned this was probably what that felt like. It was a torment that he was all too familiar with, a presence invading his mind with glee.

He was vaguely aware that the headmaster was hovering over him, looking at him in alarm. Hermione was there too, obviously hearing the commotion and his strained shouts. Again, he was thankful for the fact that the area was quieter than usual, because this would have been front-page news if anyone else had been there to see and capture the moment. He could hear the two of them shouting his name, shouting at him, asking him what was wrong and whether there was anything they could do. But Harry was in too much agony to answer their pleas.

It was over surprisingly shortly after it began, leaving Harry on the floor, panting heavily. His eyesight became more focused, the people around him growing more solid and tactile. Their mutual expressions were ones he'd grown used to. A mixture of concern and pity. He concentrated on breathing, keeping his chest steadily rising and falling, as he recovered from the brief, inexplicable attack.

"Harry!" Dumbledore gasped. "Can you hear us? Can you say anything?"

"Yeah," he croaked.

"It's Voldemort, isn't it?" Hermione asked worriedly, biting on her bottom lip. She got a ragged nod of the head in response. "What did he want?"

"It was like…he was laughing. He was gloating, rubbing it in about Matthew's death. I think this is the first time where I was distracted enough for him to enter my head. It was as soon as I stepped outside the Tardis…why would that be?"

"Well, Matthew was skilled in mental magic. Perhaps the same magic that constructed the Tardis, that is imbued in its very walls, can act as a dampener to attacks."

"So what you're saying is that I should stay inside the ship all the time, just to be safe?"

"No, of course not. I'm saying that you really need to pick up your training in occlumency."

"Miss Granger is right," Dumbledore agreed. "You are more vulnerable than ever, thanks to your current emotional state. Lord Voldemort took advantage of that and could have done a lot worse than what he did. Be grateful that he was just gloating."

"I don't feel especially grateful, funnily enough."

"As long as you're okay, I am," Hermione reasoned.

"How am I going to practise occlumency though? Matthew was the one who was teaching me."

"Professor Dumbledore is famed for his expertise in that particular department."

"And yet, I was thinking along another line," the headmaster said, smiling softly now that the colour was returning to Harry's face. "As you've discovered, the process can be quite a personal and intimate one. And, with the skills she acquired through her own training, I believe Miss Granger will be an excellent teacher."

Her eyes were wide as she looked at him. "What?!"