Harry started feeling consciousness return. Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.
He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange. He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.
"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You gave us quite the scare."
"Sir, it was Quirrell! He has the Stone!" Harry exclaimed, remembering everything that had happened, and getting straight to the point.
"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."
"Then who does? Sir, I—"
"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."
Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.
"Tokens from your friends and admirers," Dumbledore said, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."
"How long have I been here?"
"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried. Nymphadora will be glad you're awake but quite sad she missed it. She hasn't gotten off work yet and she wanted to be here when you woke up."
"Dora was here?" Harry asked.
"Oh yes, she has rarely left your bedside over the past weekend. She was quite distressed with your last letter, and has already been working through your marvelous stack of candy from all your friends and admirers."
"What happened with Quirrell and the Stone?" Harry asked, wanting to know.
"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."
"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"
"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you."
"It was you."
"I feared I might be too late."
"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer—"
"Not the Stone, boy, you—the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."
"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend—Nicolas Flamel—"
"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."
"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"
"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."
Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.
"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all—the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."
Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.
"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking . . . sir—even if the Stone's gone, Vol—, I mean, You-Know-Who—"
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"
"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share . . . not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time—and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."
Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me . . . things I want to know the truth about. . . ."
"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."
"Well . . . Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"
Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.
"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day . . . put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older . . . I know you hate to hear this . . . when you are ready, you will know."
He suspected it would be no good to argue, so he let it lie.
"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"
"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign . . . to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."
Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the Invisibility Cloak—do you know who sent it to me?"
"Ah—your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things . . . your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here. I'm sure he would have thought it interesting that you used it to start learning elemental magic."
Harry gaped in surprise, and Dumbledore chuckled.
"You know, that's how magic used to be taught in ancient times."
"Sir?"
"Back before the wand was created, most magic was done wandlessly," Dumbledore said. "Wandless magic takes a bit more power and it's difficult, so elemental magic was generally how people started to learn magic."
"Because they could use the natural presence of an element to fuel their spells," Harry said, understanding.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said proudly. "Though, I will tell you, that even back then, Shadow was not the most popular of elemental magics. Most people have an inherent proclivity for one or two of the elements, though that doesn't stop them from using nearly all of them. Though, as powerful as elemental magic is, it isn't necessarily the best for everyday use, which is why it fell out of favor when the wand was created and more modern spells were created fuzing elemental magics."
"So, you're not mad?" Harry asked.
"Knowledge and curiosity are not a crime," Dumbledore said. "As long as you don't abuse that power, I see no reason to scold you for feeding your curiosity and interest in the magical arts."
Harry nodded, smiling before going back to questions he had.
"And there's something else . . ."
"Fire away."
"Quirrell said Snape—"
"Professor Snape, Harry."
"Yes, him—Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"
"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."
"What?"
"He saved his life."
"What?"
"Yes . . ." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt. . . . I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace. . . ."
Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.
"And sir, there's one more thing . . ."
"Just the one?"
"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"
"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone—find it, but not use it—would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes. . . . Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets -"
"Harry!" a voice exclaimed, cutting off Dumbledore, and he turned and saw Dora rushing at him. He braced himself as she mobbed him, hugging him fiercely, and he returned the hug, feeling comfort at her presence. Looking over Dora's shoulder, he saw Dumbledore smiling widely.
"I see you're in good hands, so for now, I will bid you adieu," Dumbledore said, and then smiling, he got up and left the hospital room, leaving Harry with Dora.
Dora pulled back reluctantly and ruffled his hair, causing him to bat at her hands and she smiled.
"I really want to yell at you for worrying me, but you did good," Dora praised, causing Harry to blush. "Just do me a favor and try and not get yourself killed. I enjoy having you around, even if so far you're not at all good for my health."
She morphed into looking like an old crone.
"This is how I actually look now!" she said. "I'm growing old from your exploits."
Harry laughed, and the old woman grinned.
"I always knew you were a crazy old bat. Now the looks match," Harry said, and the old crone morphed back into Dora's normal looks, though with the mousy brown hair that must be her true looks.
Harry jumped as a stinging hex impacted his leg and he let out an exclamation of slight pain as Dora grinned triumphantly.
"What is going on here?!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, scowling at both Dora and Harry. "This is a hospital, and you, Mr. Potter, are supposed to be resting. Tonks, I had hoped you'd behave, but Merlin knows why, so if you can't behave, I'm going to have to ask you to leave"
Dora looked sheepish, her face falling slightly. Harry put on his best pleading face.
"Please, Madam Pomfrey, we'll behave," Harry pleaded. "Don't send my sister away."
Harry heard Dora gasp and she looked at him, her eyes looking a little wet, her face showing shock.
Madam Pomfrey scowled and scoffed. "Your father used that exact look to try and get his way. I suspect you'll be even more trouble than he was if this year was any inclination. If you can behave, she can stay for five more minutes, but no more!"
Harry grinned appreciatively and the matron walked back towards her office.
"Well aren't you a little smooth talker," Dora said with a grin, though he noticed her eyes still looked a little wet. "Did you mean what you said?"
Harry thought about teasing her, but decided he'd put her through the ringer already.
"Definitely."
Dora moved forward and pulled him into another hug.
"You little twerp, making me a freaking hosepipe," Dora said with a sniff, and Harry chuckled, really glad she'd come into his life.
"It's not my fault you're mental," Harry said. "I thought Aurors were supposed to be tough."
"You just wait till you're all better," Dora warned. "I'll show you which of us is tough."
"Hey, of the two of us, which one of us has fought a dark wizard?" Harry teased. "I'm more experienced than the Auror."
"That's not a good thing," Dora complained. "If you keep this up, I'm going to actually force you to study Defense Against the Dark Arts religiously. I will be testing!"
"Oh, are you going to visit and quiz me, Professor Tonks?" Harry teased.
"You bet your arse I will," Dora responded, and Harry gave her a slightly surprised look. "You may not have told me a lot about your family, but I've heard enough to know I'll visit and check up on you. Besides, we can go out and have some fun, and maybe you can even stay over at my place for a weekend here or there."
Harry grinned, thinking that sounded brilliant, though he was a bit worried to have her meet the Dursleys. He also didn't really want her seeing how he lived or possibly realizing how he used to live. The times as a "freak" were in the past, and he wanted to leave them there.
"It will be really cool to introduce my badass Auror pseudo-sister, Nymphadora Tonks," Harry said casually.
That little comment got him another stinging hex and got Dora removed from the hospital wing, though both of them were laughing while it happened as she yelled back at him that flattery did not give him the excuse to use her first name.
**HP**
Harry made his way down to the end of year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.
Over the last few days, he'd finally seen Ron and Hermione and explained everything that had happened. He'd talked to Hagrid, and helped the man not feel guilty, and had been given a wonderful present in the form of a leather book that had tons of photos of Harry's parents. Actually, he'd had a fair few number of visitors, but other than Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid, the only others who actually stayed and checked on him, chatted with him, and offered him any aid was Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, which made him feel bad since him being unconscious cost them the Quidditch Cup. Wood's absence spoke volumes, in Harry's opinion, but his five teammates also asked for the truth, and like once before, excluding the twins, told him that his actions were more important than Quidditch, which helped with the guilt a bit.
Now though, he'd just finally been able to get discharged for the end of year feast.
When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him, though he smiled a bit when out of the corner of his eye he saw Angelina literally elbow two boys to stop them from gawking at him, while Alicia and Katie scowled and hissed something at a few others around them producing a similar result.
Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . .
"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."
The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.
"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes . . ."
"First—to Mr. Ronald Weasley . . ."
Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.
". . . for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"
At last there was silence again.
"Second—to Miss Hermione Granger . . . for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves—they were a hundred points up.
"Third—to Mr. Harry Potter . . ." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet ". . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy two points—exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup—if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.
Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.
"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body Bind Curse put on him.
"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."
He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.
**HP**
Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years, but Harry had been pleased to see that he was the best in DADA for their year and had given Hermione a run for her money in Transfiguration. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.
And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.
It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.
"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "both of you—I'll send you an owl."
"Thanks," said Harry, "That'll be another thing to look forward to. Dora wants me to stay a few weekends here and there as well." People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:
"Bye, Harry!"
"See you, Potter!"
"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.
"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.
He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together, and were quickly greeted by the rest of Ron's family. While exchanging pleasantries, Harry's relatives came up.
"Ready, are you?"
It was Uncle Vernon, still purple faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.
"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.
"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.
Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.
"See you over the summer, then."
"Hope you have—er—a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.
"Oh, I will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home, and Dora's going to visit. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer, and Dora showing up with any unnatural hair color might give my relatives a heart attack."
Harry grinned, thinking it might be the best summer with the Dursley's he ever had.