Having lived nearly a century before this day, recently instated de-facto headmistress Minerva McGonagall had been through many hard days in her life and had seen a good many sights she wished to forget.

None quite so much as the one in front of her currently, though.

Barely two minutes ago, she'd seen her star student conjure an artifact that would require years of study to fully understand. An object that had not only stood up to the killing curse without causing the magic to become unstable and explode, but also reflected it back in full effect.

Perhaps 90 seconds ago, she'd watched in horror as her friend and colleague of years, Rubeus was murdered by Lord Voldemort right here on the very grounds he kept, for trying to protect Harry.

Mere moments after that, a horrific display of improvised magic had done something to Miss Granger. Whatever it was, it was blatantly malicious and incredibly potent. Miraculously, it did appear that whatever the likely curse had been, it was not fatal. In a sense though, that might have been easier to deal with. Knowing the curse's purpose would make it easier to counteract. However, as it stood, the various possibilities of the horrible things it might be doing to the young lady were innumerable.

And then there was the matter of Mr. Potter, who had found his way over mere seconds ago. At this point it was simply a relief the youngest Weasley boy wasn't involved too, though she wasn't sure where he was at the moment. In one way or another, it was always these three getting into the most terrible of situations. Really though, it was mostly Mr. Potter, the other two simply stood by him at all costs.

Prime examples of their house, the lot of them. Mr Longbottom too, for that matter. It was truly amazing what the last 7 years had done for the boy. His journey from timid and offbeat to bold and brave had been a joy to watch. Truly one of the highlights of her career in education. The "Golden Trio" as some had come to refer to them, had really taken him under their wing, particularly young Mr Potter. He really was James' son.

Rumor had it, that in the small hours of this morning, two of her favorite students had finally admitted to themselves and each other what the rest of the castle, save perhaps for Mr. Weasley, had seen coming for years. The timing was cruel, but if nothing else at least Mr. Potter had somehow come back to life not long ago.

Credible rumors regarding an alleged confession and subsequent shift in their relationship earlier this morning only intensified her heartbreak at the sight before her now. It was terrible but at the same time, touching; like a scene torn from the pages of an epic tragedy. Mr. Potter was grievously injured from the fight where he felled Lord Voldemort, but he'd refused to rest until he'd captured Ms. Granger's hand in his own. A trail of blood, too much blood, led back to where he'd stumbled and apparently crawled from. He couldn't stop until he was near her again.

Merlin only knows the entirety of what he'd been through today, but she knew for certain that it was far too much for any 17-year-old to bear.

Yes. This was a day she might consider asking a trusted friend to gingerly remove from her mind, would that not be a disservice to the memory of what's been lost.

Poppy would need to get here immediately to get Potter ready for transport, and they would need to rush the both of them to St. Mungo's with the utmost haste. Glancing around the yard, Poppy could be seen making her way down the staircase.

The chaos of the courtyard had calmed considerably though it was hardly still. There were people assisting in wrangling captives, while others were working to stabilize the injured. Poppy's progress was too slow…

"Neville!" Minerva exclaimed, throwing her typically formal mannerisms out the window "Poppy is on the stairs. Get her here. Immediately, please." She could count on one hand the number of times she'd called any of her students by their first name, but if the young man noticed the change, he didn't react to it outwardly. In fact, he didn't even bother to reply. He simply stood and ran over, hardly limping though he had been earlier. A painful swell of bittersweet pride rose in her chest as she thought of how well her lions were handling things today. They were all astonishingly well held together, though she wished desperately that they needn't be.

Crawling on hands and knees a few feet from the troublingly unresponsive, though still breathing girl she'd been hunched over previously, she began to assess Mr. Potter.

The transfiguration professor was no healer but knew plenty to understand that this was not good. Not good at all. The cut was massive, angry, and deep. Perhaps "cut" wasn't even the right word… layers of skin weren't so much split apart as they were simply gone. As though that angry magic had eaten a hole into the boy. It was only a few inches deep, but it was wide; you could comfortably fit the end of a beater's bat into it with room to spare. She could see organs. Bowel and perhaps a glimmer of a kidney via the gaping hole in his side, though it was hard to tell, as he was still bleeding quite profusely.

She removed the weathered, pointed hat from her head and waved her wand, transfiguring it expertly into a neat, small stack of pure white towels. The boy didn't react in the least as she pressed one firmly onto what must have been an excruciating wound. He was deathly pale, a fact accentuated by his pitch-black hair, matted with sweat to his forehead. His face was slack and expressionless, as was the rest of his body. Well, most of his body.

He still held a firm grip on the girl's hand.

In moments, Neville returned with Poppy and the look on her face clearly confirmed her fears and suspicions of Harry's condition. She immediately cast three charms that were unrecognizable but had an immediate effect on the boy. He drew in a sharp breath and spasmed slightly as though shivering, then relaxed a bit. A small amount of his color returned but he still looked far from okay. Notably, when the towel was raised, the gaping wound was unchanged.

The healer blinked at that, and her eyes went wide. She dropped to her knees to get closer to him and grabbed a few of the towels that were conjured just before she arrived. She cast something on the towels that made them glow with a soft golden light.

"Minerva, I need you to- hang on, Neville - get down here." The young man did as instructed. With a shake of his head, he stuffed the fear for his friends into the back of his mind and focused on what was going on. "Ok, I need to pack the wound but it's imperative we keep pressure on it. We will need to move quickly. On my mark, Minerva, you'll lift that towel again. Toss it away, we won't be using it again. Then go find Kingsley. I'm going to need to basically stuff these into the wound before we try and move him." She gestured to three of the four small white cloth towels in her hand.

"Neville, this will not be pleasant for him, and he may squirm or otherwise try to move. Do not let him." She said sternly. Neville nodded and remained silent. "Once it's done, one last towel will act as the exterior dressing. Neville, keep pressure on it. No matter what, okay?" He blanched a bit but nodded. "Okay. One… Two… Three!"

McGonagall immediately lifted the towel she'd been using, and the wound gushed more blood. She pried her eyes away from the gruesome sight and made to find Kingsley as instructed. Pomfrey cast one fast charm and vanished a good bit of the blood pooling in the wound, but it quickly began to return. In the meantime, she stuffed one charmed cloth after another into the wound. It shocked Neville to see just how firm and nearly violent she was being about the process.

He noticed with a shudder that Harry didn't react at all to having objects prodded into the fist sized hole in his abdomen.

Once it was done, she took the last cloth and placed it neatly and tautly over the top of the packed wound before casting a sticking charm to keep it in place.

"Okay, Neville, get in here. Press firmly - don't be hesitant about it. You're going to do great. And let me have a look at that leg."

Less than thirty seconds later, he no longer had any pain in his leg, and Minerva was back with Kingsley Shacklebolt at her side.

"Mr. Sha-" she started, before he cut her off.

"Please, call me Shack, it's much faster." He offered in a warm basso.

"Okay Shack, who do we have at Mungo's that we can still trust implicitly, ideally with experience in curses and cursed wounds?" Poppy asked, with a regretful look on her face.

The tall man furrowed his brow and thought on that for a moment.

—X—X—X—

TEN HOURS LATER

Harry awoke in a quiet, comfortable room. His eyelids felt heavy, so he didn't bother opening them. Aside from his eyes not particularly caring to participate, the first thing he noticed was a dull, throbbing pain on the left side of his abdomen. It was quite uncomfortable, but not quite what you'd call painful.

He heard someone breathing near him.

"Hermione?" He whispered weakly.

"Harry? You're awake!" A familiar, tired voice replied.

His hopes fell slightly, and he forced his eyes open.

Neville Longbottom looked like he'd been to hell and back but was sitting in a simple chair next to Harry's bed.

Well, the bed Harry was in. He didn't recognize the room.

"Neville! Where… Where am I? How'd I get here? What happened? Where's Herm-"

"Calm down Harry! You're safe. She's alive. You need to take it easy a bit."

Harry let out a ragged breath. His head felt a little clouded and his heart was starting to pound in his chest.

"Nev, I'm gonna need more than alive, mate. Is she okay?"

"She… I don't really know how to answer that Harry…" Neville said slowly. A little too slowly.

"Merlin's beard, man. I'll go find her myself at this rate." Harry replied, as he moved his chin down, preparing to lift himself up of the bed.

His shoulders made it about 2 inches off the bed before he cried out as a searing, stabbing pain engulfed the left side of his abdomen.

Harry was startled at how abruptly he found his shoulders held in Neville's surprisingly strong grip, as his friend pinned him carefully but firmly to his bed.

"Bloody hell, Harry. When I told you to take it easy, I was not asking." Neville said in a surprisingly harsh tone. "Listen mate, she's in a bad way, but she's not going to die, ok? She's still being tended to. I don't fully know what's going on, but I've been assured it's not life-threatening."

Calming slightly, Neville continued "You might not like it, and I know you will never admit it, but you're in a bad way too, Harry… So, for now you're going to stay right the hell here because I've spent far too much of my day today holding your bloody guts in while we got you set up here."

Harry could clearly hear that the anger in his friend's voice came from a place of care and genuine concern in him. It both calmed and worried him.

"Okay, okay, Nev. I'm laying down and taking it easy." Harry said. "It's uh… I know I'm far from the only one, but I've had one hell of a day mate."

"It has been a long one. I'm just glad you finally woke up."

"Finally? How long have I been sleeping?"

"Well, that depends. They gave you a dreamless sleeping draught about 6 hours ago, but you were simply unconscious for most of the 4 hours before that."

"Okay…" Harry said slowly. "Sure doesn't feel like that long. What… What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Neville asked, still in a concerned tone.

"Well, I remember killing Tom. With the sword. I remember seeing you and McGonagall fussing over Hermione, and that's about it."

"Okay, well you've got most of it then." Neville said, exhaling in a way that sounded like relief. "You apparently took the sword, stood up, collapsed, and crawled the best part of 30 meters across the courtyard to reach us." He paused a moment before continuing "Did… Did something happen with you and Hermione? People had been speculating all morning. I'll admit I'm curious."

Harry smiled weakly "It… I… Well, yes. There's a bit to the story, but it comes down to I knew I was going to die, and I needed to let her know how I felt about her…" He paused at Neville's knowing grin. "What?"

"It's about bloody time, mate." Neville said in a jokingly admonishing tone. "I'm given to understand it was a mutual thing?"

"Go on then, Nev!" Harry said with a small laugh. "Alright, I get it. I was the last one to bloody know."

"You were indeed." Neville said with a smile. "Anyways, you dragged yourself to us and grabbed her hand just before you lost consciousness… I may have accidentally broken one of your fingers trying to pry your hand off hers so we could move you. Sorry about that. Madam Pomfrey got it sorted after only a few seconds though."

"Don't worry about it Nev. It sounds like I've got more than a few things to thank you for today. You needn't apologize for anything." Harry said sincerely, before continuing "You said something a few moments ago about holding in my guts? That doesn't quite sound like Saturday afternoon tea service."

"Understatement of the year, that is." Neville said sadly. "I was so bloody scared for you. Pomfrey tried a spell… Something pretty big seeming, and she looked terrified when it didn't work. She packed the giant hole in your side with some charmed dressings or something then had me hold pressure on things so you didn't bleed out before we could get you to hospital."

Harry blanched a bit at that. "I… I'm sorry you had to do that Neville."

"Hey, sod off with that apologizing bollocks. You're one of my best mates and it helped save your life. You'd do it for me, and I'd do it again in an instant, don't you doubt it."

"Never for a second, Nev. But I do hope you'll never need to again."

Neville nodded seriously at that, and the boys settled into a comfortable silence for a minute or two before Harry let out a contemplative sigh.

"Nev?" Harry asked.

"What is it, mate?" Neville replied.

"If I swear to stay here and lay all flat and relaxed like while you're gone, will you go and find a healer or someone who can tell me about Hermione? And I guess about me too?"

"I… Suppose that would be agreeable." Neville said pensively, a suspicious look on his face as he began getting up out of his chair.

Harry smiled, but it fell as Neville turned back around to him.

"But you didn't swear. That was a hypothetical. I'm going to make you say it." Neville said with a knowing grin.

"Bollocks, you got me." Harry said with a smile. "Fine then. I swear to you and give you my word, Neville. I'll not leave this bed until either you return, or a healer allows it."

"Well alright then, Harry. Take it easy, and I'll be back in a little bit." Neville said with a smile and a wave to his friend.

—X—X—X—

Perhaps twenty minutes later, Neville was back in Harry's room.

Harry had held up his end of their bargain, though he was starting to regret making it. Neville brought back a bit more of an entourage than Harry had been expecting. Most waited in the hall, but Harry could hear the murmuring of what he expected to be a small crowd of perhaps 6 or more people. One woman dressed in apprentice's robes, stood just inside the door and looked cautiously at Harry.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter." A man of medium build and height with short black hair and a small mustache greeted Harry directly "I'm healer Tolliver, though you sir may call me Morris if you like." Harry bristled a bit at the emphasis on 'sir' there. More 'Boy-Who-Lived' nonsense… "Behind me, is one of my apprentices, Denise. Do you mind if she tags along to learn and perhaps help out a bit this evening?"

Harry didn't particularly care for the deference, but that was far down his list of priorities now.

"Er, no Healer Tolliver, Denise can stay." Harry said with a glance and a halfhearted smile toward the young woman. " I'm really hoping to get some answers about a few things."

"I'm sure you are, Mr. Potter. Between myself, and a few of the others waiting outside right now, I'm sure we can get you everything you need to know. I assume you wish to ask after our other patient this evening, but I'm not familiar with her case. You'll need to speak with my colleague about that."

"Right. Of course. Can you get them in here then please?"

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"Mr. Potter, you've had experienced quite a significant injury today, and I'll be needing to run some diagnostic tests now that you've regained consciousness. I really must insist we get that out of the way before you visit with anyone else. Kingsley and Minerva out there have made me well aware of your concern for Miss Granger and I can tell you that she's just down the hall with the best healer in the hospital right now. But I really must insist I get some things going in here before any other topics are addressed."

Hearing that Hermione was on the same floor was a relief. Even more so to hear that she was with the best healer in the building. But that part was also concerning.

Seeing no sense in fighting it considering the amount of pain lifting himself a bit off the bed had caused earlier with Neville, Harry laid there and allowed the healer to go about his business.

The man cast a few diagnostic spells, the first one made him feel warm all over, like he was sitting close to a small fire and basking in the heat of it.

The second one made him shudder and caused goosebumps to appear on his arms and legs, before an uncomfortable ripple like static electricity overtook his entire body. He winced at a bit of pain but mostly in surprise as the energy overtook him. It felt like it was radiating out in pulses from his head, centered just above and between his eyes. The same place his head had hurt as he cast magic fighting the last horcrux. The static and a feeling of pins and needles not unlike the sensation he'd sometimes get if he'd sit too long with his leg curled under himself spread uncomfortably across his whole body, except where he knew his wound was.

The third caused his entire body to glow softly with white light and made him feel rather cold while it was happening. It also created a magical diagnostic bubble that must have functioned like a display of some sort to Healer Tolliver. All Harry could make out were odd runes and squiggly lines, but it seemed meaningful to the healer. The cold set in pretty fast though, and Harry began to shiver.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Potter." Morris apologized "This one can be a bit chilly. I'll have Denise here fetch a nice warm blanket for you." As he finished his statement, Denise waved a wand and conjured a thick blanket not unlike the one Harry was already under.

She walked over to him and placed it gently over him. It felt like a warm hug but the warmth of the blanked sunk into him more quickly and more thoroughly than he'd ever experienced before. His thoughts immediately went back 6 months to cold nights in the tent. The spell would have been quite handy back then.

"Okay Mr. Potter, I'll start with the good news." Healer Tolliver took a deep breath.

That comment made Harry feel just a bit concerned about his own condition for the first time since sunrise.

"First and foremost, you don't have any infections, and by some miracle you're not septic. The curse, which by the way, none of us have seen anything like it before, simply ate away at your body and refused healing. Thank Merlin it didn't hit your chest. Were it less than a foot higher, over your heart, we would not be having this conversation right now."

Harry blinked a few times, stunned. "It was aimed at my chest, I managed to dodge it, barely."

The healer blanched a bit at that. "Well then, sir, I'm glad you were able to avoid the worst of it." He took another slow breath before continuing. "However, the curse isn't just eating away at your body, Mr. Potter. It's somehow eaten a hole in your magical aura in a way I've honestly never seen or heard of before. We've got it slowed significantly, and you'll be alright in the short term, but we do need to get it sorted out and stopped as quickly as we can."

"What does that mean, 'eating a hole in my aura'? I certainly noticed that spell didn't affect the area around the hole in me. Was that second diagnostic for my magic?"

"Yes, it was. And we're working on what it means. We've sent for the best healers from Italy, Spain, France, and the US to consult on your case."

"What was that last one then?"

"That was a general scanning diagnostic with additional readings on your general wellbeing from a magical and mental angle. Mr. Potter, Harry, if I may?" Harry eyed him thoughtfully but nodded his assent. "None of us know or likely can imagine what it is you've been through, in the past 24 hours alone never mind the last ten months or 16 years. It's really important that you talk to someone. I can find some-."

"I have someone that I can talk to, and it would go a long way toward calming me if you'd let your colleague in here and let me find out about her." The healer reacted with surprise as Harry said with more heat in his voice than he'd intended. "Ahh. Sorry, really. You're right. And thank you for everything. But I swear if I don't find out something soon about what's going on with her, I'm going to lose it."

"Right, uh, I'll send them in and be back in later on."

—X—X—X—

Ten minutes later, Harry was becoming increasingly distraught. Hermione's caregiver, Healer Erica Cartwright had yet to tell him anything that made him feel better about her, and the continued refusal to let him near her was becoming an issue.

What she had explained, didn't paint a very good picture of her condition. Riddle's improvised curse had not attacked her body at all. In the muggle world, that would likely have been a good thing, but magically speaking physical injuries were rather trivial. She'd have been better off with broken limbs and cuts than she was in reality.

But her reality was anything but kind. The spell that took her down was pure malice directly applied by an enraged Tom Riddle in the wake of watching Hermione effectively kill Bellatrix. Healer Cartwright said that they couldn't be certain whether Hermione would ever be able to cast even the simplest magic after the assault.

The thought of it nearly broke him.

Harry remembered with a shudder the feeling of that mass of cold, black energy as it sailed past him into Hermione. He remembered the way it seemed to pull at his magic as it passed by.

Hermione was entirely infatuated with magic and the wonder of it all. She had been since the very instant she first learned of it at 11 years old. Losing that ability, being potentially squibbed by Riddle who famously hated the very notion of someone of her birth status being able to use magic, would certainly devastate her to her core.

It was all his fault. Like so many other things. If he'd tried to stop and deflect the spell rather than simply and selfishly protecting only himself, Hermione might be holding his hand from a chair next to his bed right now.

The thought brought a wave of guilt and anguish to him. He felt the sensation, familiar from the morning before he left the castle, of an unspeakable mass of emotion pressing behind his eyes trying to leak out of him.

Healer Cartwright saw his look of distress and asked him what was going through his mind.

For some reason, there was something about her that made him feel comfortable opening up a bit, and he's told her exactly what he'd been thinking.

In reply, she told him not to blame himself. That he couldn't have known, and that in the heat of a fight for his life, extra effort or concentration to do more than a basic if powerful shield may have cost him his life and his victory.

Her comfort wasn't much good to him though. She wasn't there, she didn't know what she was talking about, and even if she did… A victory at the cost of Hermione was no victory at all. He'd already died for her once, and he'd rather do it again and spare her what was happening now than live to see her suffer such a fate.

When she finished talking about the potential loss of Hermione's magic, she paused for a moment and surveyed Harry.

He was wracked with guilt and longing. He wanted nothing more than to go with her and tell her how sorry he was; to tell her he'd go to the ends of the earth to find a way to help her recover.

"Healer Cartwright, can I… Can I see her? I really would feel much better if I could visit with her for a bit. Even after all of this I'm not certain why we're being kept apart…" Harry asked earnestly. He was fraying around the edges. The stresses of the day and this new situation were really getting to him now. The weight of Hermione's injury due to his failure to think of all possibilities weighed on his heart like an anchor.

"Mr. Potter, " the healer started out in a placating tone. Harry suspected where the answer was headed "I simply don't think that's a good idea."

"What could possibly go wrong from me just seeing her, Healer?" Harry asked, in a resigned tone that carried with it more than a hint of exasperation.

"There's more."

"More? What more could there possibly bloody be?" Harry asked, as a new wave of fear and anxiety overtook him.

"She's… not entirely herself since the incident. We've had to rather heavily medicate her." Cartwright replied carefully. She was watching him rather closely.

"I really don't like the sound of that, but I also don't fully understand what you mean. I'm no healer myself. Please speak plainly." Harry was about at his breaking point. 18 hours ago, he'd gone to his death. Now he was fighting off mental images of a potential future with a magicless Hermione. It wouldn't matter to him, the magic bit. He'd love her no matter what, but he also knew that losing her magic would irrevocably change her in more ways than one. She'd be torn apart.

"She, she seems to have experienced some sort of mental attack as well. She's not acting normally, nor was she reacting as expected to questions or information as it's presented to her. We think it's also part of the curse, but we're a bit uncertain how to move forward about solving it." She was sounding regretful now.

"What are you doing to solve it?" Harry said with steel in his voice. It wasn't so much a question as a demand that there had better be an answer for.

"Mr. Potter, I can assure you I'm the most qualified mind Healer in this hospital and likely in the country. I don't say that to boast, but to try and assure you."

"If you want to assure me of anything, don't tell me you don't know what's going on." Harry seethed. He could feel his heart pounding quickly in his chest.

"Mr. Potter, with due respect, I know you've been through an incredible ordeal today. It would be best if you'd try and relax a bit. I can get you more sleeping draught. I am quite frankly the best person on this island to sort this out and would appreciate it if you'd let me-"

"Who… Is. The. Best. Elsewhere?" Harry tasted blood and realized he'd bitten his cheek through the phrase to stop himself yelling at the Healer. He fully believed she was doing her best, but he was at wits end with worry by this point. He was losing his cool. This day was too much, had taken too much, even before this news. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He was not ready to hear any more bad news about Hermione just now.

Harry could feel the last dregs of his decorum leave him.

"Healer Tolliver rattled off four other countries they've already contacted about my curse wound over here. I expect much more for her. Or at the very least the same as I'm getting. I understand your services don't cost money and are provided without charge. I also understand Healing does cost money in some other places. I assure you if that's slowing anything down at all regarding Hermione, the next war will start as soon as I can get out of this bed. If it helps at all, tell whoever is in charge here that I'll take care of any travel fees or whatever else might be needed to bring her the best we can find anywhere."

He took a breath and looked at her. If she was offended by his outburst it didn't show on her face. She looked remarkably calm, though it was possible she was unnaturally good at masking her true feelings after working in her field for years.

Even in his exasperated state, he felt a bit guilty for taking his stress out on her. She was just trying to help after all.

"Look, I'm sorry. I appreciate what you've done, truly. And please believe me when I say I intend no offense, but also do not doubt for even a second that I care far less about your ego than I do about the witch in that other room. I'm certain you're excellent in your field, but there's no shame in calling in a consult. If I've learned anything in the last seven years, it's that nobody can do everything, and that you're strongest when you've got good people supporting you."

"I believe I understand you well Mr. Potter. I certainly understand you've been through a lot today and it seems clear she's quite special to you. No hard feelings at all. I'll admit I've not been given instruction to seek international consults directly, but I will begin that immediately. I know of a witch in Kansas, over in America, who is doing some interesting research and might be able to provide some options and get me more information. I also have a few other contacts throughout Europe I might call on."

She said it all with a sincere smile. Harry, even is his ragged state was impressed by that. He had been a bit of an ass, and she took it in stride. He'd have to be sure to apologize again once he was well.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I believe there are a few more folks outside who wish to speak with you, if you'll have them." Healer Cartwright said cheerfully.

"Thanks, I wouldn't mind that. And please, you can call me Harry." Harry said with a small smile. He was starting to come down from the place of fear and worry he'd been in.

"Well, thank you then Harry. I'll be sure to do that, and again welcome you to just call me Erica."

"Alright Erica. I know you said it might not be good in general, but I really just need to see her for a moment or two if I can. We went through hell together for the last year and, well, I'm the reason she's like that. It would be a great relief for me if I could just see her. Please consider it." Harry shot her a tired, hopeful smile.

"I'll see how she's doing and consider it. I'll talk with Healer Tolliver as well and we'll let you know a little later, ok?"

—X—X—X—

Only a few minutes later, Harry's bed was flanked by two people he knew, though one was far more familiar than the other.

On his right was the matron of house Gryffindor and Headmistress of Hogwarts. More importantly than that though, Headmistress McGonagall was one of precious few motherly influences in his life. Now though, she was worn down and ragged, and had a look about her as though she was simply satisfied to see that he wasn't a figment of her imagination. There was an air of sadness about her in general. Not surprising given where she'd been before the hospital.

On his left, the tall and muscled visage of Kingsley Shacklebolt surveyed him with a small smile. Harry had noticed that most wizards were either of slight build or perhaps a bit soft in stature. Kingsley was one of very few people Harry knew of in the magical world who looked like he'd fit in at a muggle gym. He was a very charismatic fellow, though tonight a look in his eye betrayed an undercurrent of sadness. Harry wouldn't be surprised to hear he'd lost someone close to him in the last day or less.

"Professo- er, I mean Headmistress! I'm glad to see you." Harry said once the three of them were alone in the room.

"Harry, dear. Given the circumstances and what we've all been through today, I think it best we dispose with formalities, do you agree?" Professor McGonagall asked with a warm smile on her face, she looked over at Kingsley too. .

Harry thought for a moment and nodded his head along with the other man.

"Then please Harry, call me Minerva."

"Might take a bit of getting used to ma'am…nerva… Sorry." Harry laid his head back on the pillows behind him. He'd been straining his neck a bit to look toward the foot of his bed and it was getting sore.

"So. To what do I owe the visit? Who's going first?"

Kingsley spoke up first.

"Harry, I wanted you to be in the loop on developments at The Ministry early and often." Kingsley's deep voice resonated through Harry's chest almost as though the man was yelling, though he wasn't.

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn't much care for the ministry's performance in a plethora of areas over the last… Ever.

"I see that look in your eye young man and believe me when I tell you I do not blame you for one single second. As a matter of fact, with an open mind, I suspect and hope you might even get along with the new Minister once you get to know them a bit."

"I sincerely doubt that Kingsley, who do we think it's going to be?" Harry asked with skepticism clear in his tone.

"Me." Kingsley said with a smirk.

"What‽ When‽" Harry asked, startled but optimistic. If this actually came together, it would be a huge change of pace. Kingsley, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was a staunch opponent of the interests of the Death Eaters and the like.

"About six hours ago, Harry. It is done." Kingsley beamed. "You've done us all an amazing service today, and I would like to learn more about your struggles when you're up to sharing them, and also extend my personal thanks and appreciation along with the full support of my new office."

"So you say." Harry offered back, what he hoped came across as polite disbelief in his tone.

"Harry?" Kingsley looked a little surprised and slightly hurt by Harry's lack of trust.

"With respect, Minister I hav-" Harry stopped as Kingsley raised a hand gently.

"Harry, please do me the honor of calling me by my first name, or if you prefer, those I'm close with call me Shack. I do not wish for any of this 'Minister' business between you and me. As we all agreed to earlier." A warm smile appeared on his face again "You'll recall not too terribly long ago, I happily risked my life and wore your skin along with the witch across the hall as we moved you to safety."

Harry felt that perhaps the room was getting a bit warm. He'd worked that night Hedwig and Moody died mostly out of his memory. And he may have never properly considered the implications of Hermione having polyjuiced into his body.

He was about ready to ditch the extra blanket that the apprentice Denise gave him earlier.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry Shack. I, you'll understand I've got a bit of a history with the Ministry. And even today… I've been conscious for barely over an hour and already there's things I don't appreciate going on behind the scenes."

"I certainly do understand the Ministry has done little but fail you in epic fashion for most of your life. Let me show you what it should be. What are you referring to, Harry? Have they done something here at the hospital?"

"It's what they haven't done, Shack."

The kind eyes of the newly minted minister turned to iron in an instant. When he spoke next, the jovial nature of his rich voice was gone entirely and replaced with unyielding authoritative bedrock.

"What is it, Harry? I would very much like both to show you my sincerity and discover any pockets of resistance I may need to be aware of." Shack was bristling, but not at Harry.

It was clear the stakes were high for the man in his new position of power. Harry noticed as Shack packed away the hint of sadness he'd been displaying throughout their entire interaction tonight and readied himself to make things happen. He believed then that Shack was indeed on his side.

"It's Hermione, sir."

Whatever Shack had been expecting to hear, it wasn't that.

"I was talking to my healer earlier. The curse in my side isn't something they're familiar with. They've already contacted four bloody countries looking for help and resources for me." He noticed Minerva react to that news and continued "I'll be fine, eventually Pro- Minerva."

Harry went on "But when I was talking to Hermione's healer before you came in here... She'd not been authorized to seek outside assistance." Tears burned at his eyes now "I can appreciate she's the best healer we have here, but even she's not sure how to proceed. So, I wonder, what about the best anywhere else? I understand I'm the face of this whole thing, and that's just my burden to bear as the bloody "chosen one", but I fully expect she be given the same treatment. Please make that happen Shack. Please believe me when I tell you that without her-"

"Harry, I understand, and it will be done, but I'll need to go in order to make it happen." He looked questioningly at Minerva, who looked increasingly morose, but nodded her agreement.

"Go and see to it, Kingsley, I'll get through the rest of our business in your absence." Minerva replied, a steely, distant look overtaking her face.

"What is it, p- Minerva? Sorry, it's taking me a bit to get used to your first name not being 'Professor'."

"That's alright, Harry. I understand. But I regret to say I have news to share, and none of it is pleasant."

His breath stuttered in his lungs.

She hesitated.

Harry slowly sat up slightly. His side hurt, but now that he knew to move carefully, it wasn't enough to stop him like it had been when Neville was in earlier. He asked in a measured tone, "You're about to tell me which and how many of my friends were hurt or worse back at the castle, aren't you?" In the tenebrous recesses of his mind after what he'd been through, he could imagine horrors he dared not put to words. He hoped his tormented mind was simply far better at creating terrible circumstances than it needed to be.

"Yes, Harry…"

He nodded slowly.

"In total, if you count the reinforcements we'd eventually received from Hogsmeade, the good ones left at the ministry, and the Order, we lost 58 souls last night."

Harry sat back and exhaled slowly. "Other than… Hagrid, who do you know of that I was close to?" His eyes were welling with tears as he asked. He didn't want the answer. He didn't want to know. But he did need to know.

"Other than Hagrid, four. Two dead, and two… significantly harmed. It was nearly three dead, but I'm told Hermione managed to save Fred Weasley's life at some point."

"RON AND GINNY‽ Are they? Are th-" Harry erupted, vaguely remembering seeing them at some point but not being sure they were okay. His heart was simply racing now, and he struggled to breathe. Pain bloomed in his side as he yelled, but he didn't much care.

Minerva called out for a healer to help him, and Healer Tolliver was there immediately with a bottle of some kind of potion.

Harry almost immediately felt a glass bottle on his lips and tasted something floral.

The effect was immediate. His heart stopped drumming against the walls of his chest, he could breathe again. The ringing in his ears got a little quieter.

As Healer Tolliver tended to Harry, Minerva took his hand in hers and continued "Ronald and Ginerva are both just fine, Harry. They're alright. They were both hurt in the battle, but not severely. They're well-tended to and mending well, on their way to a full recovery."

He just nodded.

"Harry, Lavender and Padma were both bitten last night. They're both alive, and will remain so, but it's been confirmed they are indeed infected with Lycanthropy."

Maybe it was the calming draught he had just been administered. Maybe he was simply at the end of his capacity to feel grief. Maybe he was steeling himself for the blow he knew was still coming.

His only reaction to two of his classmates and friends being resigned to facing the rest of their lives as werewolves was a silent stream of tears as he lay there in his bed.

"And" Minerva wiped a tear from her eye "Colin Creevey was killed at the school."

Harry's mind immediately played him a highlight reel of his interactions with the boy. The younger kid had absolutely and completely idolized Harry, who had initially found his attention and lack of tact or temperance to be grating. Eventually though, the boy aged and mellowed out a bit, and Harry had taken a liking to him.

"I… He was only a 6th year. We sent them off, didn't we?" Harry asked tearfully.

"We did indeed Harry. He apparently snuck back onto the grounds to help in the battle. His actions were heroic, and you should be proud of him."

"Proud of him! Proud that he got himself killed? Proud that I'm the one that led him to think he had a chance? Proud that - proud that he made a reckless choice because of what I taught him and now his fourteen-year-old brother has to bring a bloody casket back to London to his muggle father?" Harry couldn't believe there was possibly a way to see anything remotely approaching a silver lining in this news.

"Harry… Be proud that he held his head high. Be proud that he displayed the utmost values of a true Gryffindor. Be proud that saved countless others. Be proud that he gave his life to protect the same people, school, and values you would have." Her face shone with pride as she delivered her retort to Harry's outburst. "And be proud of yourself, as it was because of Hermione, Ron, and your excellent leadership and organization two years ago that he was able to achieve all of those things."

"Professor, I don't believe you've considered my history here. People close to me have a way of dying unnaturally and earlier than they otherwise would. It's been true since I was 15 months old, and the numbers are only getting worse. It's not a coincidence, and I'm the common factor."

"Harry dear, I do not know everything you have been through. I'm sure I can only imagine what you have been through. But I can tell you with certainty right now, even for what you perceive as losses, you have been an immense force for good in this world. You take every loss personally, and that is both the best and the worst thing about you. Not only courage and bravery, but compassion. You care for those who follow you, and that is what makes you such a great leader. But you are not and will never be responsible for the actions of everyone in the world around you."

Harry spoke calmly at first "Professor McGonagall, I appreciate you're trying to help, and I know we've all had a long, terrible, day. I'm going to be honest with you, because I respect you and you're the closest thing to a mother I can remember."

He continued, slowly getting louder. For perhaps the second time, he let his masks fall. "I'm not feeling that calming draught that I was given 5 minutes or less ago anymore, I DIED this morning, I've got a cursed bloody hole in my gut you could damn near fit a bludger in, and I am simply exhausted. Not to mention, the girl I am in love with who I haven't been allowed to see yet, is in another room incomprehensible, cursed, and potentially without her magic for the rest of whatever life she may have left!" Tears lined his face as he finished the sentence nearly yelling.

"I cannot handle any pep talks, or bright sides, or any other coping platitudes. There are none. Please, just give me the last bloody name and let me, just let me be done with this day." A small sob escaped him as he finished his exasperated reply.

Minerva didn't reply to that at all, aside from to stand up, lean forward, and carefully embrace Harry as he lay in bed. After a few moments, he hugged her back.

"I'm truly sorry Harry, for everything." She said softly into his ear.

"We found Nymphadora Tonks on the grounds. She didn't make it."

—X—X—X—

Change comes for you

Even if you're hiding out

So wake to this truth

And maybe you'll believe me now

No safety in illusions

Of a place where you belong

So take hold of me

And hang on until the hurt is gone

The hurt is gone

Yeah, it's gone

Track: The Hurt Is Gone

Album: Yellowcard

Artist: Yellowcard

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