Chapter 2: Scars

"W-What?" Harry stammered.

"You heard me, Potter. Remus and Dora woke up shortly before I came here. Given the state of things, I came to update Kreacher. You have a very loyal elf, Potter. Kreacher has stood watch over you since the three of you went to bed this morning. I had hoped to arrive before someone came intruding. You three really ought to sleep. But, as you can see, my efforts have been thwarted by Jordan."

McGonagall had regained her composure and her usual crisp tone. Harry stood, stunned, while a thrill of joy shot through him. Yet, there was also a worm of fear.

"Professor," Hermione continued, "What you're saying…it…it can't be. Fred, Remus, and Tonks are all okay? But they were dead!"

McGonagall offered Hermione a sympathetic gaze.

"I know, Ms. Granger. But, somehow, thanks be to Merlin, they're alive. I suppose stranger things have happened before."

McGonagall cast a pointed look in Harry's direction.

"Well, I'm going!" Ron declared, "I have to see my family. Harry, Hermione, are you coming?"

"Y-yes." Hermione hesitated, "Of course."

"Professor," Harry said suddenly, "Riddle. What if he comes back? I-I don't understand. He can't come back! We killed all of his horcruxes!"

McGonagall started at the mention of such an evil object.

"You did what, Potter?"

"Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces," Harry panicked, "and we killed each one

with basilisk venom! Or Fiendfyre! And, well, there was a Killing Curse, too, but that's—"

"Potter!" barked Professor McGonagall, "You're not making sense! Start over."

Harry sighed frustratedly, but he didn't miss the way Ron and Hermione glanced at one another. Like him, they clearly were unsure what to think.

"There's a lot to it, Professor, but the point is that if others are coming back, who's to say Voldemort won't come back, too? Has anything been done?"

McGonagall nodded appraisingly.

"I see…of course. Voldemort's body, along with any Death Eaters who were either captured or killed in battle, has been set aside in the antechamber. They have all been disarmed. I must admit that, in the excitement of recent events, I hadn't thought to double the guard on that room. Bill and Fleur Weasley were on watch. They've set up several wards around the place. Still, I suppose it can't hurt to be careful."

Professor McGonagall drew her wand and cast her silver tabby patronus, before sending it away with a message to bolster the guard.

"Potter, I understand your concern, but I would encourage you to let others do the work. You deserve a break. You are welcome to stay in Gryffindor Tower as long as you'd like, or to come with me to the Great Hall. I daresay Remus and Dora will be delighted to see you."

With that, Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and started downstairs, her tartan robes sweeping behind her. The three friends looked at each other cautiously. Neither Ron nor Hermione had considered the possibility of Voldemort—no, Harry, thought, that's not his real name—Tom Riddle coming back to life.

"Well," Ron said a moment later, "There's only one way to find out."

With a nod to one another, they wordlessly moved forward. All three drew their wands as they hurried through the Gryffindor common room and down the corridors, heading for the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall kept well ahead of them, and they struggled to keep pace. Despite his pure elation at the prospect of seeing Remus and Tonks again, Harry could not help but feel paranoid. Had all those months tracking Riddle been useless? If he hadn't died and chosen to come back in the Forest, Harry may not have believed Professor McGonagall so easily. As it was, McGonagall had a point.

Harry had survived the Killing Curse. Was it so far out of the realm of possibility to imagine that Tonks and Remus had, too? Had someone died for them, like Harry's own mother had for him? Harry had no memory of the night his parents died, and no way of knowing whether he had died for any length of time before Sirius came and found him alive. Sirius told Harry that he'd arrived right after Riddle killed James and Lily, and that he'd handed Harry over to Hagrid before leaving the cottage at Godric's Hollow, but he had no way to prove the accuracy of Sirius' recollection. Somehow, Harry doubted whether Hagrid's memory would prove accurate, too.

As they approached the Great Hall, they heard a babble of excited conversation. An orange sunset streamed through the ornate glass windows behind the High Table, and through the open oak doors. As they stepped into the half-light, the three friends froze. Where earlier that morning, there had been a row of fifty bodies awaiting burial, there now lay a row of hospital beds. Each bed held someone who had either been severely injured or died in the battle. Madam Pomfrey seemed busy, taking notes and monitoring patients closely. As she worked, a small crease appeared on her brow.

From a distance, Harry could make out the cluster of redheaded Weasleys all surrounding one bed. Mrs. Weasley laughed and cried, while Mr. Weasley held her close. Though Bill and Fleur were missing, Harry assumed they were on guard duty. Charlie held Ginny in his arms, and for a moment, Harry felt a pang of jealousy, but then he saw the twins. George stood by the head of Fred's bed, grinning like a fool as tears of relief streamed down his face. Fred, who was propped up against new pillows, was laughing at George.

"George, I'm right here! Honestly, old chap, there's no need to be so dramatic!"

"Oh, Freddie!" sobbed Mrs. Weasley, "I-I can't believe you're h-here. You were g-gone. Oh, I'm so relieved. Merlin knows how or why you came back but thank goodness for it!

"Ah, Mum," Fred chided, "you know me! Always full of surprises! You know I'd never leave you for long!"

Harry smiled as he felt the weight of Fred's death leave him. Ron took Hermione by the hand and strode over to Fred, but Harry had someone else to find. He skimmed the row of beds until he saw them—Remus also sat propped up, while his wife, Tonks, sat next to him in a bed of her own. Her hair was her own mousy brown, but her dark eyes were alight with her own survival. It seemed she could not manage to take her gaze off Remus, whose face looked considerably less lined, despite his graying hair.

"Remus! Tonks!" Harry greeted them, running forward, "I-I don't know what to say! My God, it's good to see you!"

"Harry! Thank God you're alright!" cried Remus, his eyes brightening at the boy he considered his nephew, "We're so proud! I just can't believe it…you killed Voldemort!"

At that, the room went silent. Nobody had noticed Harry enter the Great Hall, and now every eye in the room stared at him. Harry felt the heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks. He barely managed to get out the words, "Um, yeah. I did," before Ginny ran at him, her flaming hair flying out behind her. She landed in his arms, and he held her for a moment, craving her embrace, before realizing that everyone was still watching. Tonks beamed and applauded, while Remus merely raised his eyebrows and gave a knowing look.

"Minerva!" called Madam Pomfrey's voice, sharply, "Minerva, come quick! It's the Creevey boy!"

Professor McGonagall, who had been speaking with an injured Hogsmeade resident, hurried over. Harry glanced over to where Madam Pomfrey stood, next to the trembling figure of Dennis Creevey. Dennis kept pointing to where his brother, Colin, lay and saying, in a voice that cracked with teenage anxiety, "H-He's alive! I can see him breathing! He has to be!"

"There's a pulse, Minerva! And he's warming to the touch!" Madam Pomfrey called; her eyes lit with new purpose.

Professor McGonagall observed the scene with stunned incredulity.

"Forgive me, Poppy. You know I trust your experience and your ministrations have served us well. But Mr. Creevey marks the fourth person to…to come back. We ought to alert Kingsley…and senior staff at St. Mungo's. You care for everyone well enough, but this is a magical event we've not seen the likes of since…well, since Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall finished, casting an apologetic glance at Harry.

"I quite agree, Minerva. I could use an extra hand to help me cope with the injured and those that have…come back."

While overjoyed, Madam Pomfrey looked as though she may faint.

"Has anybody seen Kingsley?" McGonagall asked the room at large.

"He's out on the grounds, speaking with a team of Aurors. He said he would be here only briefly. Now they've made him temporary Minister of Magic, he's very busy," said Charlie Weasley from the back of the room.

"Well, I'll send an update for him," Professor McGonagall said, casting her patronus once more, "He'll need to be informed before he leaves. He won't be able to answer any of the Daily Prophet's questions until we get this sorted out…"

Suddenly, Harry couldn't take it. He thought this had been sorted out! Although relieved to hear that people were alive, he was greatly bothered, too. As the only person to twice survive the Killing Curse, Harry took no issue with whether it was possible. But he had an explanation for how it had happened with him. He knew that his mother's sacrifice had tethered him to life, but what sacrifice had been made for his friends? They had all died before Harry had gone to the Forest. Yet, Harry was hard pressed to think that anyone else had directly interfered with his friends' deaths. Without understanding why this happened, Harry felt he could not guarantee Voldemort's—no, Tom Riddle's—death.

The Riddle from Dumbledore's pensieve argued that seven would be the most magically powerful number, but could Riddle make more than seven horcruxes? Harry didn't see how that was possible. Just before he, Ron, and Hermione had come to Hogwarts, Harry used his connection with Riddle to see every hiding place: the Gaunt house, lake, Gringotts, and later on, even Nagini's protective bubble. If there had been an eighth horcrux, Harry was sure Riddle hadn't known.

Then again, Riddle hadn't known about Harry being a horcrux either. The moment Riddle's Killing Curse hit Harry the first time, his mother's love protected him, and the curse rebounded. Riddle was hit with his own Killing Curse; his soul, already fragile from making six horcruxes, ripped apart once more. The stray piece of Riddle's soul had attached itself to Harry, the only living thing nearby, and left Harry with nothing but a—

"Scar!" Harry shouted, interrupting a further conversation between Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm sorry, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall, looking taken aback.

"Fred, Remus, have you got scars? Anywhere? What about you, Tonks?" Harry blustered, pushing away from Ginny.

"Potter, what–?"

"When I was hit with Voldemort's Killing Curse, as a baby, he left a lightning shaped scar on my forehead. I have to know if you've all got scars! Where were you hit?"

Harry worked his way over to Remus, reaching forward as though to check him over. Remus looked up with a bewildered expression, reflexively pulling away.

"Harry, what—" Remus began, but Hermione caught up to Harry and pulled him back.

"Harry, I know what you're thinking and no. It doesn't make sense! Fred wasn't hit with a Killing Curse. He was hit by that wall. And anyway, nobody sacrificed themselves for him. You told me so, yourself."

Distressed, Harry ran his hands through his hair. Hermione couldn't know what he was thinking. She had no way of understanding the panic that now consumed him, because although she knew about Harry's encounter with Voldemort in the Forest, she'd never been a horcrux. Though as he paced, still running his fingers through his filthy hair, he realized that she had been right about something: Fred had not been hit by a Killing Curse.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

"I know that, Hermione, but I just…have to know! Remus and Tonks…Would you mind telling me whether you have any scars where you were hit by the Killing Curse? Did anyone die trying to protect you?"

The Lupins looked at one another. Tonks' expression grew pained as her eyes welled with tears. Reaching forward, Remus took her hand and squeezed it tightly. In a rare act of public affection, he whispered, "It's alright, love. You did what you could."

Tonks choked at Remus' words before she said, "No. W-When I got there, Remus had already been k-killed. I'd been asking where he'd run off to, and s-someone told me he was d-dueling Dolohov. I…I s-saw…I saw D-Dolohov kill him."

Then Tonks, the battle-hardened protege of Mad Eye Moody himself, could no longer speak. She'd dissolved into quiet tears. Remus leaned over to try and stroke his wife's arm, but their beds were an awkward distance apart.

"Shhh…There, darling, it's alright. I'm right here. We're together here," Remus crooned.

Harry took stock of the situation. He really didn't want to interrupt Tonks and Remus again, but he needed answers. Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Harry…?" She waited for him to continue.

Harry gazed from Hermione to the Lupins with a pleading expression. Hermione caught on and braced herself, as though undertaking an extremely unpleasant task. Gently, she went to comfort Tonks, who she viewed as somewhat of an older sister.

"Tonks," she said quietly, "I am sorry to make you go through this, but we need to know. Do you have a scar where the Killing Curse hit you?"

Tonks shook her head.

"N-No…I don't. There's only a bruise."

Hermione nodded, and Harry saw her shoulders relax.

"And you, Remus? Do you have any scars?"

Remus searched his former student curiously. Unlike his wife, he was alert enough to wonder at an unspoken threat.

"No more than usual," he said, "That is, no more scars than my kind normally have."

Hermione nodded as Dennis Creevey's voice piped up again, "He's awake! He's awake! Colin's awake!"

Looking over, Harry saw Dennis practically jumping with excitement at the prospect of seeing his brother again. Although Harry felt glad for the brothers, he still felt something was wrong and couldn't quite bring himself to join in the festivities. Wiping his mouth with his dirty sleeve, Harry turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" asked three voices at once.

"Antechamber," replied Harry, knowing that Ron, Hermione and Ginny could always find him later. For now, he needed to know that Voldemort—no, Tom Riddle—was dead.