Harry opened his eyes.

He was sitting on an uncomfortable chair in a dimly lit room, his arms tied behind the back of the chair. He wasn't alone.

Before him sat Neville Longbottom, watching him intently. When Harry had last seen him, on that night in Hogwarts, he had been surprised by how battle hardened the once clumsy and unsure boy had become. Now, it came as no surprise, but his transformation hadn't stopped. A jagged scar ran along Neville's cheek, from lip to eye, and he had the beginnings of a surprisingly well maintained beard. His eyes were cold.

"You know," said Neville, "I have talked to a lot of fake Harry Potters over the last few years."

Harry sighed. "I'm real."

"That's what the rest of them said."

"Well, this time it's true."

"You must have convinced Draco Malfoy as much if he led you to me." Neville leaned forward. "Tell me, supposed Harry Potter, what were your last words to me?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "Kill the snake."

Neville said nothing. His expression didn't change.

"Did you do it?" Harry asked.

Neville slowly pointed to the jagged scar on his cheek. "Yes."

"Good."

"What-" said Neville. He cleared his throat. "What did my gran send me in the mail? In our first year, Malfoy stole it and you stole it back. What was it?"

Harry thought for a moment. "A Remembrall, wasn't it?"

Neville took a breath. "It's you," he whispered.

"Yeah, Neville. It's me."

Neville let out a gasp and took half a step back. Warmth flooded his eyes, and Harry saw a flash of the boy he had gone to school with.

"Seamus," called Neville, his voice catching.

A steel door on the other side of the room slid open, and the face of Seamus Finnigan peered through. He, at least, didn't look much different. His face was older, sure, but it was the same old Seamus.

"He's back," whispered Neville.

Seamus entered the room all the way, jaw slackening. "It's really you, Harry?"

"He's back," said Neville again, beaming now.

"Harry," roared Seamus.

The ropes binding Harry to the chair fell to the ground at a flick of Seamus' wrist, and Harry was able to stand up, rubbing his wrists tenderly.

Harry's two old dorm mates simultaneously wrapped him up in hugs on either side. After a moment of patting them both awkwardly, he felt emotion swell within him despite himself, and he returned the embrace just as tightly.

Just for a moment, everything was almost okay.

"There were killings today," said Bellatrix Lestrange, her tone conversational as she stood at Draco Malfoy's doorstep.

"Uh," said Draco, holding the door half ajar, "yes. I heard."

"I understand you were close with them." She tilted her head, showing concern they both knew she wasn't capable of. "May I come in, nephew?"

Draco hesitated. "Now's not really a good-"

"Splendid." She pushed the door open and strode past him. His home was a lavish house in central Diagon Alley. He'd been rewarded richly after the war, regarded as an indispensable war hero.

Bellatrix strode around his living room, plopping herself onto a white armchair and propping her dirty boots up onto the arm. "What were their names? These losses of ours."

"Perkins," said Draco, walking slowly to the chair across from her, "Boyle, Keyes, and Baird." He sat. "Half-Bloods, all of them. A loss to no one."

"And how were they killed?"

"You didn't read the report?" asked Draco.

"Why read the report when I can hear it from the source?" she said sweetly.

"Well…" said Draco, "that's just the thing. I wasn't present when they were killed. As I'm sure you've heard, we were all chasing that Harry Potter impersonator. We split up to search. I guess they found him. I saw flashes of green light in the distance, but that was all. Whoever he was, he was long gone when I arrived."

Bellatrix nodded slowly. "But Harry Potter does not kill."

Draco shrugged. "So this must be a pretty rubbish impersonator."

Bellatrix pursed her lips. After a moment more, she stood up suddenly. "The Dark Lord is perturbed."

"Perturbed?" Draco stood slowly. "Whatever for?"

"I know not." Bellatrix walked to the front door, arms wound behind her back. "But that which perturbs the Dark Lord ought to perturb us all." She looked around his house scrutinizingly, hand on his doorknob. "Draco, it's about time you found yourself a wife, don't you think?"

Draco sighed. "Goodnight, Bella."

"Just an idea," she said with a shrug, opening the front door. "I imagine you will have your pick of all the finest Pureblood witches in the world. You are, after all, the hero of the Weasley Massacre."

Harry stared at Neville and Seamus. "The what?"

Neville and Seamus looked at each other, both wincing.

The three boys sat on wooden chairs in the kitchen of a small hut. Outside it was snowing. The room Harry had been captive in was the only other room in the hut, downstairs and beyond that sliding steel door.

"Have you really missed the entire last five years?" asked Neville.

"Like I said, my last memory before today was in the Forbidden Forest. I've woken up to this… this nightmare."

Seamus nodded. "That was the Battle of Hogwarts."

"But if we thought that was bad, what came after was worse." Neville stared at the ground. "We lost. Badly."

"It wasn't the end, of course," said Seamus. "We still had a good number after the battle."

Neville nodded. "Kingsley called a retreat. We'd lost too much ground, and after seeing your body we- we didn't have much fight left in us that day. Better to live and fight another day."

"We never expected him to take down the Muggle governments." Seamus shook his head. "But they fell overnight. All of them. Whether through Imperius curses or outright murder, overnight they all bent the knee to him."

"Our hand was forced," said Neville. "We had to make a stand. One last time. At Diagon Alley."

"I've seen it," said Harry darkly. "They've put Kingsley's body up on display like some sort of trophy."

Neville nodded. "We lost. Again. This time, we knew it was for good. Those of us left had to simply get on with our lives."

"Or so we thought," said Seamus.

"The massacre," Harry said. Ever since he'd first heard the words, his heart had plummeted to his stomach and stayed there. He couldn't bear to hear the answers to his questions, but he had to know.

"The next night," said Neville, "they came to the Burrow. Some of us were hiding out there. But mostly, it was the Weasleys simply trying to protect what was left of their family."

"And…?" Harry said. He couldn't finish the question.

"Burned to the ground," said Seamus flatly. "The survivors executed."

"All of them?"

Neville and Seamus looked at each other.

"Almost," said Neville after a moment.

"You guys," Harry pleaded. "I need answers."

"Ginny had left already," said Neville with a sigh. "Right after the Battle of Hogwarts. She was certain you couldn't be dead, and she set off on a mission to bring you back. I must say I was expecting her to be the one to succeed, not Dennis bloody Creevey. You're sure she wasn't involved at all?"

Harry nodded. "Dennis didn't mention anyone else before he died."

Neville nodded, looking thoughtful. "Well, in any case, we have no clue where she's been these last five years."

"And Ron?" said Harry urgently. "Hermione?"

Neville wrinkled his nose. "Alive, but…"

"Harry," said Seamus slowly, "their fates aren't a whole lot better than being dead."

"Tell me," Harry demanded.

"Well…" said Seamus, "Ron's in prison."

"Prison?" said Harry, letting out a relieved breath. "Where? Azkaban?"

Seamus nodded. "Harry, it's not just a normal stay he's having at Azkaban. He's… he's the only one being held there. With all those Dementors, these last five years. They said his blood was too precious to spill once they realized that he's… the last Weasley."

Harry nodded slowly. He'd think about the torture Ron must have endured all this time after he broke him out. "And Hermione?"

"Well, somehow…" said Neville, eyes downcast, "she might have it even worse."

The roar of a crowd itching for blood. The backs of seats being thumped against. Feet stomping.

There was a knock on the wooden door. "They're ready for you."

She pulled down the visor of her helmet and knocked back on the door.

It opened, and the noise grew deafening.

She stepped out onto the grounds of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, and the crowd roared even louder.

"Kill her!"

"Let us see that dirty blood!"

She looked up into the stands. They were packed with students and civilians alike. They all loved a spectacle, and came from far and wide every time for a chance to see her die.

"Ladies and gentleman," came a booming voice that echoed all across the grounds, "I present to you our world famous entertainment event!"

Across the pitch, a handful of newly turned seventeen-year-olds waited for her, their wands in hand, eager for a chance to prove themselves.

"Are you ready to join the adult world as Witches and Wizards?" bellowed the voice. "Are you stronger than the very best Mudblood the vermin are able to produce?"

She walked forwards and lifted the training wand they gave her. It was the sort of wand magical toddlers and children would use to develop their skills before they chose their first real wands once they turned eleven. It was extremely limited. Extremely cumbersome. Slow, unwieldy.

It was more than enough.

"Please, go wild," screeched the voice, "for what will hopefully, finally be… the death of the last Mudblood!"

The crowd went ballistic with screams and applause.

She came to a stop and sighed. "Time to earn my life for another day."

Hermione Granger bared her teeth and dug her feet into the ground, watching the teens sprint across the grounds towards her.