AN- Welcome to my new story. This one is a little darker than the others; Trigger warning- depression, suicidal thoughts. Some of this first chapter is taken straight from The Goblet of Fire. Disclosure- we all bow down to JK Rowling and the brilliant story and vivid characters she gave us to play with.

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Chapter 1

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Harry looked from Cedric to the Cup. For one shining moment, he saw himself emerging from the maze, holding it. He saw himself holding the Triwizard Cup aloft, heard the roar of the crowd, saw Cho's face shining with admiration more clearly than he had ever seen it before… and then the picture faded, and he found himself staring at Cedric's shadowy, stubborn face.

He wasn't supposed to have been entered into this competition, someone else had entered him. Cedric was supposed to win this on his own. It would be letting whoever entered him win if he was the one to take the cup.

Though, he was the first one there.

"Both of us," Harry said

"What?" Cedric asked.

"We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it." He had been through all the same trials as Cedric after all, and come out on top in the end.

Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms. "You- you sure?"

"Yeah," said Harry, taking one more look at the shining cup before looking back at Cedric and feeling even more resolved in this decision. "Yeah… we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take it together."

For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn't believe his ears, then his face split in a grin. "You're on," he said. "Come here."

He grabbed Harry's arm below the shoulder and helped him limp towards the plinth where the Cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held out a hand over one of the Cup's gleaming handles.

"On three, right?" said Harry. "One- two- three-"

He and Cedric both grasped a handle.

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onwards in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side.

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way and he fell forwards; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last and he managed to raise his head.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Cedric shook his head. He got up, assisting Harry to his feet as well, and they looked around.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously travelled miles- perhaps hundreds of miles- for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them, to their left Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside. The sight of it there seemed familiar somehow.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry.

"Did anyone tell you the Cup was a Portkey?" he asked.

"Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent, and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. He did another turn on his spot to take in the terrain of the graveyard, or what they could see of that was illuminated only by the stars, then gave an exasperated sigh. "But I'm not staying to find out."

"What?" Harry asked. He was sure he had misheard that.

"Yeah," Cedric was shaking his head. "I'm done." He waved his hands once in exasperation. "I only entered this bloody tournament because of the pressure from my dad and my friends." He turned to Harry then, a slightly mad look on his face. "I'm Apparating back to Hogsmeade, are you with me?" He held out his hand.

Harry didn't have to think about it this time. He too was done with this madness; dragons, mermaids, a bloody Sphinx! He hadn't even entered this Tournament, he had been forced into it; and they'd won. He and Cedric were supposed to be done with it now. All this craziness was supposed to be over.

"I'm with you," he took Cedric's hand.

Harry knew what Apparating was, but he had never experienced it before. As he held tight to Cedric's hand and an expression of determination came over Cedric's face, which Harry supposed was so he could focus on the magic needed to Apparate, they saw someone approaching from the church, someone Harry recognized, someone who was holding something that looked suspiciously like a baby the way it was being cradled. Like the same deformed baby that he remembered from his dream months ago, the dream that involved the slightly familiar house on the currently nearby hillside. Cedric and he exchanged a look before Cedric gripped him a bit tighter and Harry felt a suctioning sensation pulling him away again.

The uncomfortable twisting sensation caused by the Side-Along Apparation was sweet bliss in comparison to the pain that had shot through Harry's head the moment before Cedric had pulled him away.

Harry landed poorly on his bad leg again once the world stopped spinning and he fell to the ground in a gasp of pain.

"Sorry," Cedric cringed as he assisted him back to his feet. "I'm still a bit new to it." He helped him up once more. "But it doesn't look like I made any of your injuries any worse," he said as he looked him over.

Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or worried about how proud Cedric sounded about that little accomplishment. It wasn't the most pleasant experience, however considering the circumstances, there hadn't been much of an option. He was very glad that Cedric hadn't decided they should stick around the graveyard any longer to see who it was that had been walking towards them.

Cedric pulled Harry's arm around his neck and essentially forced him to lean on him as they walked back up to the castle.

"What are the odds that that had been part of the task?" Cedric wondered aloud.

"I'm finding it difficult to care really," Harry told him honestly. His scar was still twinging and his leg was killing him, it wasn't the worst pain he had experienced before, but those injuries were then and this was now. He didn't want to sound like a wimp and ask that Cedric levitate him, though he was nearing that level.

Cedric let out a small snort. "I know what you mean. We got to the Cup, it was a Hogwarts victory. Now I just want to get back to my normal life. I, er, I know some of my mates weren't too pleased with you being a surprise contender, and I know I already apologized for them, but I still didn't quite believe you hadn't put your name in until the end there."

Harry didn't know whether to give a laugh or a scoff at that. He'd been telling everyone until he was blue in the face that he hadn't put his name in that bloody Goblet of Fire, of course all it took to finally convince people was for him to get to the end of the final task first and say 'no thanks'.

"I honestly have no idea how my name came out," Harry repeated to him.

"Think it might have something to do with this?" Cedric asked, referring to their situation.

Harry gave a hard swallow but he didn't know exactly what to say. Simply put, the truth was 'yes'. Yes, it did very much have something to do with their being transported by portkey to a creepy, semi-abandoned graveyard.

That person he had recognized in the graveyard was unmistakably Peter Pettigrew, a.k.a Wormtail. And that baby looking thing he had been holding, Harry knew what that was also. That searing pain he'd felt in his head before Cedric got him out of there was singularly localized to his scar.

Now Harry knew for sure, those dreams that he had been having weren't simply nightmares or an overactive imagination. Wormtail had gone and sought out his master. For whatever reason, it seemed that Voldemort's proximity, or the new form that he took, was affecting Harry and allowing him to see some of what had been going on in his sadistic life.

Why they wanted Harry at that gravesite though, that he didn't know. Likely so Voldemort could try to kill him again.

"Probably," was the best answer Harry was willing to give Cedric.

"You generally do end every year with something big, don't you?" Cedric said with a forced joviality.

"Oh yeah," Harry said spitefully through gritted teeth as the pain continued to eat away at him. "That's me, always looking for trouble and trying to leave an impression."

Cedric gave him a single derisive laugh then there wasn't anything more they said to each other on the way back to the school. It was a good mile or so that they had to travel with Harry hobbling along and trying not to slow them down too much.

Finally, they made it into view of the pitch. There was a lot of noise coming from the stands, it was clear that everyone was still there.

The two of them paused outside the entrance, each turning to the other to see how they wanted to play this. Were they supposed to just burst in there looking victorious? Harry knew he needed to talk directly to Dumbledore and Sirius and let them know what had just happened.

Luckily, he didn't have to seek him out, as Dumbledore himself came out the doors from the stadium at a quick pace with Professor Flitwick trying his best to keep up. "A locator spell on the Cup to tell us at least where it has gone. Filius, this was not supposed to have happened. Please, work your- Harry! Mr. Diggory!" He caught sight of them and rushed over at a pace Harry didn't think the man was capable of. He was also sounding in a panic. And, while Harry was relieved to hear the panic in his tone because it meant he recognized the seriousness of what might have happened to them, he was also worried because Dumbledore was supposed to be the man with the answers, and he seemed to have none thus far.

"Where have you been? Where did the cup take you?" Dumbledore asked, his tone was just as panicked and demanding as it had been just after Harry's name had flown out of the Goblet.

"A graveyard somewhere," Cedric answered, saving Harry having to do it.

Harry locked eyes with Dumbledore and watched as he worked to school his reaction. This was easily the most shaken Harry had ever seen him. The way his eyes widened and his shoulders squared back, it was like he had seen exactly what Harry had been picturing in his head; Wormtail walking towards them from the little building in the darkness.

"The Cup had been turned into a portkey then?" he asked seriously.

"Yes," Cedric nodded. "It wasn't a part of the last task, was it?" Now he sounded concerned that he might have messed up his chances of winning it.

"It was not," Dumbledore told them.

"All seems well though," squeaked Professor Flitwick. "I suppose we don't need to track the Cup after all."

"On the contrary," Dumbledore shook his head, turning to the tiny professor. "Boys, would you please head back into the school with Professor Flitwick while I get a few things taken care of here. Stay in his office with him until I come to collect you. And please, it must be I that comes to collect you." He told this more to Harry than to Professor Flitwick or Cedric.

Harry nodded. His mind was reeling now. Obviously, someone involved in the tournament had been the one to turn the Cup into a portkey, someone who knew that Wormtail and Voldemort would be there in that gravesite. Someone who had been trying to get him there and would have been who entered him into the tournament in the first place.

As he followed behind Professor Flitwick, still leaning on Cedric, he thought over who it might have been.

He had seen the memory of Ludo Bagman and his trial about the Death Eaters. The man had also been offering to help him with tips and such to get through each of the tasks. But somehow he seemed too simple a person to be capable of the powerful magic it would have taken to hijinks the Goblet of Fire like that.

Snape had been who he had originally thought was responsible for it, looking to get Harry killed in the tasks, but wouldn't he have been trying to help him through them instead of simply belittling him and trying to bring him down?

Professor Moody had been trying to help him. He had given him a few nudges in the right direction. But he was a trusted friend of Professor Dumbledore's. The man was slightly off his rocker but he had been an excellent teacher and had flat out told Harry that the thing he hated above all else was a Death Eater that walked free. So, he wouldn't have been the one to try and offer Harry up on a silver platter to what was left of Lord Voldemort.

On and on Harry's thoughts spiraled around trying to figure out who it could have possibly been as Cedric helped him up the stairs to the Charms professors office. Luckily it was only on the second floor and they didn't have too far to go.

There had been plenty of odd occurrences that happened throughout the tournament.

Barty Crouch was heavily involved in the planning and implementation of the tournament. He had been slightly twitchy when the tournament started, but then he had completely vanished and when he did turn up it was in the middle of the night in the Potions Masters storage room or acting like a raving lunatic at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Although this might have been why he wanted so desperately for Harry go get Dumbledore before he went missing again. Maybe he knew who it was that was still working for Voldemort.

Finally, they made it to the office and Cedric helped him sit down in a chair. Professor Flitwick wasted no more time before casting a cutting spell on Harry's pant leg and taking a look at the damage there. Harry sucked in a breath as there was a cooling sensation that went over his entire lower leg, but then he was able to relax back in the chair as the cooling sensation caused him to stop feeling the pain and looked to be healing some of the damage.

"Thank you," he sighed gratefully.

"Of course," the professor said, conjuring up glasses of water for the two of them before going over to a slanted desk in the corner of the room and rifling through a few rolled-up pieces of parchment that looked like maps.

Harry exchanged a look with Cedric, asking with his expression if he knew what Flitwick was doing. Cedric gave him a small shrug in response and drank his water down.

The pair of them were exhausted and now that Harry was in a semi comfortable chair, hydrated and the pain in his leg had been muted to almost the point of non-existence, he felt sleepy.

None of them were talking and it seemed he would have nothing requested of him for a few minutes so his eyes drifted shut. He could only hear the sounds of the others breathing and a shuffle of paper from Filtwick riffling through his rolls of parchment. Therefore, he wasn't sure how much later it was before the sound of a door opening jolted him into the present. Cedric looked just as disoriented as Harry felt.

"Mr. Diggory," Dumbledore spoke quietly, clearly realizing that both of his students had fallen asleep while they had been waiting. "Your parents are downstairs in the Entrance Hall right now, waiting to congratulate you on your win. In light of these unforeseen circumstances we will be having the proper presentation tomorrow."

"Oh," Cedric looked a little flustered. "Alright Professor." He got to his feet, clearly understanding that he was being dismissed.

"Filius, have you had any luck?" Dumbledore asked once Cedric had left the room.

"It is a quite large area that I am working with," Professor Flitwick shook his head contemptuously at what appeared to be a map of the whole of the United Kingdom.

"If I may," Dumbledore stepped forward, rifled through the rolls of parchment and selected one. "I have a theory," he told him in answer to an unasked question. He turned back to Harry, but still spoke to his colleague, "I have a few more items to take care of but will be back later."

"Come, Harry," Dumbledore said to him directly. "We are heading to my office. There is someone that is quite desperate to speak with you."

Harry stood abruptly and immediately regretted it as he sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. He had forgotten his injury. It took a moment for the wave of nausea to roll over him and settle down. It appeared that his Charms professor had simply numbed his leg, not fixed it.

Dumbledore offered his shoulder for leverage and the two of them hobbled their way to the Headmasters office.

"Shouldn't I go and see Madame Pomphrey?" Harry asked.

"We will get you healed up, but, I am sorry to say, your injuries will have to wait. We have something that must be discussed right now."

Harry could only swallow down his pain and carry on. He knew who it would be that was waiting in the Headmasters office and he was very keen to see Sirius as well. No doubt Ron and Hermione would be waiting for him in the Hospital Wing, ready to bombard him with questions that he was quickly losing the energy to answer.

Getting up the stairs in the corridors had been a struggle, the windy staircase to Dumbledore's office was even harder with the uneven distribution of spacing on the stairs.

Finally, they got into the room and he dumped himself down in the closest chair.

Sirius was there, in his dog form when they entered, as soon as Dumbledore closed the door he turned back into his human self. He didn't look much better than he had when Harry had last seen him in the cave, but he was there, and that was all that mattered to Harry just then.

Sirius bent down and gave him a quick hug, looking him over for injuries. "Just the leg then?" he asked.

Harry nodded, "just the leg." He turned to his Headmaster then who was looking like he was bracing himself to give some terrible news.

"Tell me what happened, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"The cup was a portkey," Harry said plainly, though he had already told Dumbledore that. "It took us to a graveyard. Initially Cedric and I wondered if it had been part of the third task. But then, well, then Cedric sort of just admitted defeat. He said he was done with the tournament and offered to Apparate us both out of there."

"Cedric Diggory didn't want to compete anymore?" Sirius asked skeptically. It was a world-renowned tournament after all, the winner was supposed to be honored and proud of their accomplishment, names jotted down in the history books, all of that.

Harry shook his head at his Godfather to convey how done with the tournament the both of them were at that point in the task. "He said it was only because of pressure from his friends and parents that he even entered his name. He said he finally believed I hadn't wanted to be in the tournament in the first place when I told him to take the Cup in the maze. We both essentially got there at the same time, so I told him to take it. He said we should do it at the same time, so we did." Harry explained. "But then,"

"Yes?" Dumbledore pressed.

"It took us to a graveyard, like we said. What I didn't say in front of him was that I saw Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, right before we Apparated away. He was coming towards us and he was carrying something in his arms. Something that made my scar hurt," he said importantly to Dumbledore.

This too Dumbledore nodded once to, as though it also wasn't news to him.

"Harry," Dumbledore started importantly. "Harry, I found out who it was that put your name in the Goblet of Fire. It was a most unpleasant discovery, but due to the intricacies and the lengths that I have come to learn Voldemort is taking, I believe we have to make a serious decision about your future right here and now. And it will involve Sirius."

"Who was it?" Sirius asked, unconcerned about the plans Dumbledore had in mind right then.

Dumbledore looked upset with himself over this. "First I will tell you that the situation has been handled. But it was the person we believed to be Alastor Moody has been working alongside Pettigrew to restore Lord Voldemort to his body."

"The person you believed-" Sirius started off incredulously.

Harry wasn't quite sure what that meant yet though. Did that mean that Moody wasn't actually Moody? Or he was a double agent?

"The real Alastor Moody has been trapped in his trunk for the duration of the school year. It was a Death Eater under Polyjuice Potion that had taken his place and been working to get Harry to the graveyard for a ritual," Dumbledore told them.

"That wasn't actually Mad-Eye Moody?" Harry asked, his mouth hanging open. "All year?!"

That had been one of his theories, that Moody was the one paving his way to the cup, but he'd disregarded it straight away given Moody's relationship with Dumbledore. He'd been a bloody good Defense teacher as well.

For the real Moody to have been trapped in a trunk all year too, that must have been terrible.

"Then who was he?" Harry asked.

"Barty Crouch," Dumbledore told them.

"What?" Harry asked loudly. That didn't make any sense. Barty Crouch and Moody had both been present at the same time on multiple occasions. Was Pettigrew Polyjuiced as Crouch and Crouch as Moody? That seemed unnecessary and excessive.

"Barty Crouch?" Sirius repeated the name, completely flummoxed.

"Barty Crouch, Junior," Dumbledore explained. "He did not die in Azkaban, instead his mother switched places with him and he had been hiding in his fathers home under the Imperius Curse until August last year. He was spotted trying to leave the tournament grounds and had run out of his Polyjuice Potion. Severus, Minerva and I managed to capture him and give him Veritaserum to tell us the story."

"So, all the help he's been giving me, he was really just… just… fattening me up for slaughter?" Harry asked, unable to think of another analogy.

Fawkes drifted down from his perch then, peering at Harry's leg wound curiously while Dumbledore took his time responding to that.

"Harry," Dumbledore started. "There was a ritual that they were about to do that would bring Voldemort back into his body. It would have made him stronger, and it would have made him able to lay his hands on you without any harm coming to him. You remember what happened when you touched Professor Quirrell?"

Harry nodded dumbly, he wasn't ever likely to forget what happened to Professor Quirrell, and then felt a drop of wet on his leg. He looked down and saw that Fawkes had given him a tear. His wound looked like it was simply washing away, just as it had last time Fawkes had honored him with a tear. The blood remained but his injury sealed itself shut.

The relief he felt was allowing his thoughts to become less muddled.

"Right now then, he can't touch Harry without hurting himself?" Sirius asked.

"It would cause excruciating pain. Worse than what Harry experiences in his scar when he is in the presence of Lord Voldemort. It is a weakness of his, and he would be devoted to ridding himself of any weaknesses," Dumbledore told them both.

"He's going to try again, isn't he?" Harry sank back in his chair. Every year something like this happened. He couldn't wait to see what would be in store for him this time next year, he thought sardonically.

"That is something we need to discuss," Dumbledore said importantly. "Harry, you understand just how dangerous Lord Voldemort is, not just to you, but to the Wizarding world as a whole, yes?"

Harry wasn't sure why his Headmaster would feel the need to ask. He'd heard plenty of horror stories about lives that were lost due to Voldemort personally and some things about what his Death Eaters had done to their victims.

He nodded in response.

"Sirius," Dumbledore turned to him. "Am I to understand that you would do anything for Harry, and assist him in this war that is inevitably coming?"

"Of course," Sirius said, equally confused about where this might be going.

"Then I am about to propose something drastic to you both; And that is to make everyone forget who you are, Harry."

Harry stared at his Headmaster for a moment before turning to his Godfather to see if there was any understanding on his face about what that was supposed to mean. From his expression, Sirius didn't appear to know what that meant any more than Harry though.

"Have you heard of the Fidelus Charm?" Dumbledore asked Harry.

"What?!" Sirius exclaimed. "How is that supposed to make people forget a person?"

"What is it?" Harry asked, looking back and forth between the two of them at a complete loss.

"It makes locations unplottable," Sirius explained. "I have that charm on my family home in London so no one can find it unless they know exactly where it is and are given a 'key'."

"So, you want me to stay somewhere with the Fidelus on it?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"Not quite," Dumbledore said slowly.

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2 years and 9 months later

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Harry found his way into the empty closet, gasping for air. He had run out of that Great Hall and entryway as fast as his feet could carry him.

There had been too many people, too many dead bodies and destruction.

The dead bodies he had grown accustomed too, but not on this scale.

And the people.

They were all staring at him, like how they used to stare at him before everyone forgot who he was, and he just needed to get away from them all.

It was over now and he just needed an escape. They would all forget they'd seen him the moment he was out of the room anyhow. They would only know that Voldemort was dead and celebrate that fact.

The first thought he'd had when he got into the closet was of Sirius.

He didn't know where Sirius had got to in the mess, but they would be meeting back up at home and they could discuss their next move then.

Harry really hoped that Sirius was alright. Everyone in the Order knew that Sirius was on their side but not everyone fighting against the Death Eaters in this last battle had been in the Order.

Harry had seen his old friends in that mess as well.

Ron and Hermione had been in the battle. He knew they had missed their last year of school to join the resistance. Hermione wouldn't have been safe at Hogwarts regardless, she was a Muggleborn. So far as Harry knew there weren't many over the age of seventeen that had remained at Hogwarts, Muggleborn or not.

Likely just the Slytherin's.

Now he had killed Voldemort for good. Every last Horcrux was destroyed, including the one that had resided inside Harry himself, the only thing left to do was round up the remaining Death Eaters.

For years now it had been his only mission.

Since he was almost fifteen he had been in hiding with Sirius, hunting down one Horcrux after another and taking out one or two Death Eaters at a time.

Voldemort hadn't needed Harry's blood to return to power he just wanted it to remove one of his obstacles, but shortly after his first attempt to regain his body he no longer knew who Harry was. He made do with the blood of an old Auror that had been victorious through the first war with him; Samwell Rockport. They had left his mangled body on the Hogwarts Gate as a message for Dumbledore.

Harry had felt bad that someone else had sacrificed their life in his place, but after everything he had been through now he knew that more lives had been saved than lost with the way it had all played out.

Now it was over.

Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket and threw it over his head once he was tucked away out of sight. No one would have been able to remember him after he passed their eyeline in the corridor but he would still have to see them looking at him when he went back out of this broom cupboard and he didn't like seeing that expression people got when they saw him for the 'first time'. He had grown too familiar with that expression.

He allowed himself a few more deep and steadying breaths as he gathered up his resolve and made for the door again to leave, before he reached it though the knob turned. Quickly and delicately he moved back into the corner and he saw a girl around his age come in, she shut the door carefully and then simply stood there, staring down at her hands.

Harry managed to slide as far back as he could go without making a noise, only hearing her breathing heavily.

There hadn't been many students left at the school for this Easter Week, that was why he and Sirius had put off killing the snake until now, they'd had the vicious beast for a week before and Harry had been trying to get information out of it, but it wouldn't give anything away. They knew that Voldemort wanted to take over the school as his first act; take the school then take the Ministry. They just hadn't counted on the train being targeted before the break and most of the parents deciding that the children staying at school was the safer choice. Today was supposed to be the day all the students left the school, instead they'd needed to get evacuated.

He had owled Nagini's decapitated head to Voldemort and addressed it to Tom Riddle Jr., just to taunt him. And it was after the owl had left that the Daily Prophet had arrived with the news of the Hogwarts Express.

Still, he had thought all the students might have Flooed home.

They hadn't.

"Muffliato" the girl cast at the door and then backed away from it slightly, turning to face the side wall.

He caught the color of her hair illuminated by the light shining in under the door.

It was Weasley red.

He hadn't noticed her in the battle but judging from the state of her clothes, she had been there. There was a rip on her sleeve and blood that had dripped down the length of it to her wrist.

Ginny Weasley wouldn't have been of age though and should have been evacuated with the other students. She would have had to attend Hogwarts according to the Ministry ruling and would have been the last of her family to attend, but Hogwarts would have been relatively free from the war, would it not? McGonagall and Flitwick were still professors here, and they wouldn't have let anything happen to their students, no matter that there were a few Death Eaters on staff.

He didn't have time to cover his ears before she let out a loud, frustrated scream and started banging her fists on the stone wall, then kicking it when her arms hurt too much.

Harry didn't know what to think.

He didn't know if she'd gone mad, or this was how she was letting off steam. He knew that her family had been mostly gathered in the Great Hall, all still breathing so far as he could tell, so why on earth had she opted to come into his closet to rail at the wall?

When she finally seemed to have exhausted her energy she let out a final sob and rested her back against the wall, letting herself fall down to the floor, her knees tucked up and her arms crossed on top of them.

Her breathing was starting to come out steadier as she calmed down, but she continued to sit there and Harry didn't dare move.

Three years since he'd seen her, and he couldn't even remember when it was exactly that he would have last talked to her. She'd just sort of been in the background during his school years.

She'd certainly grown up, and from the expression on her face it had been a rough go of it as well.

A shadow passed along under the door and he could make out that there was someone standing on the other side of it. A small scratching sound came against the wood. Ginny's spine straightened and she squared her shoulders and sucked in another calming breath before reaching up and turning the handle.

Harry's eyebrows went up as he saw Neville Longbottom was the person on the other side of the door. He still had the same sandy blonde hair with a bit less weight on him, he looked sturdier now and a heck of a lot more sure of himself.

Neville slipped into the room and closed the door, crouching down to get level with Ginny, leaning against the opposite wall.

"They're going to start worrying in a moment," he told her. His tone was one of both concern and understanding. Had they fought beside each other?

"I just needed a minute," she told him straight, her eyes locking onto his with a forced look of calm.

"I know," he said softly and reached out slowly to check her injury. "I'll clean you up as best I can before you go back down."

"What's the story?" she asked him morosely as Neville pulled out his wand.

"Gryffindor Tower, guarding the younger years that didn't make it out in time," he said as he traced his wand down her upper arm, her cut healing as he did so.

Ginny nodded. "It was Finnegan, Daniels and Morgan that were actually there. Are they alive?" she whispered.

Neville nodded. "They are. We lost a few that waged into the thick of it."

"Who?" she asked so softly it was little more than a breath.

Neville shook his head. "Marley and Fred were your closest," he told her as he cast a cleaning charm on her shirt. "Lavender got a nasty cut on her, but she'll live-"

"Just the losses," Ginny cut him off.

His lips pursed. "Mostly Order members," Neville told her, not sounding bothered by her tone. "I don't know on the whole. It is something that we'll have to find out together."

They were silent as Neville kept cleaning her up. Harry had the impression that this wasn't the first time he had done this for her. It was like they were comrades in arms and he was also the medic.

"What about you?" Ginny asked when Neville was done.

"Luna already fixed me up," he waved off her concern. "I don't know how she found out and got here so quickly, but she did."

They helped each other to their feet, Neville seemed to be allowing Ginny to gather herself together again.

"Ginny," he started.

"No."

"Ginny," he said more firmly.

"No," she said equally firmly.

"But-"

"No, Neville," she turned to him with a glare. "They can't know. They've lost enough with this war, knowing exactly what it was we went through would just make it worse for them. Let them all think that the only thing that went on here was studying and everyone finding snogging partners." She gestured to the door, "there are bodies all over this place that need to be cleaned up and mourned over. Then it is time to celebrate the fact that the war is over. No one that left us here has the capacity right now to deal with it."

Neville's solid stance slackened and he gave a nod. "You're right."

"I'm always right," she replied with a bit of a smile working its way onto her face.

Neville gave a single chuckle. "Yeah, I suppose."

Again, the two of them stared at the door, just standing there.

"Luna kissed me," Neville blurted out.

Ginny turned her head towards him with a startled expression that rested into a smirk.

"You don't have to say it, I can hear your voice clearly enough in my brain, just echoing over and over again 'I told you so'," Neville told her wryly.

After a moment both of their shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

"Alright," Ginny finally sighed. "Time to face my family."

"We're all right behind you, my Queen," Neville teased with a mocking bow.

Ginny scoffed, "I don't want to be Queen. I'll be King. I never was one to behave like a little princess."

She opened the door then and the light fell across her face and Harry was struck by the power that her stance and expression gave her. She did look like she could easily be the leader of whatever the students of Hogwarts had banded together as.

He could only guess at what exactly had gone on that she was determined they be so tight lipped about, and it couldn't be good.

Nothing in this war had been good.

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