When Harry next woke up - he didn't know how much time had passed - he was met with such a bright light that he was sure that he had somehow ended up in Heaven. The fluorescent and harsh lighting in the hospital wing was enough to give him a headache, though he already had one thanks to the pounding in his brain. It felt as if he'd been shaken about, thrown from side to side, and beaten up by at least six people. He was definitely sure that that hadn't happened but maybe he'd lost some memories after this apparent altercation. Had he said the wrong thing to Malfoy and finally been made to pay? Perhaps his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, had done the dirty work and put him in this bed. He had the strange feeling that he was going to have to get used to the feel of these sterile sheets during his time at Hogwarts. It was just a hunch but, if his first year was to be the blueprint of the rest of his academic life, then he was going to be personally keeping Madam Pomfrey in a job.

It took a great deal of effort to sit up in the bed and he fumbled around for his glasses, hoping to get a clearer look at the state he was in. He was surprised when his spectacles were handed to him, even further taken aback by the presence of the headmaster, who had claimed a chair by the foot of the bed. He chuckled quietly at the student's apparent bewilderment but didn't say anything just yet. Dumbledore seemed to be letting him take it all in. The old man was surrounded by heaps of chocolates and sweets. He caught sight of multiple boxes of Every Flavour Beans and too many chocolate frogs to properly count, especially with the way his mind was still basically a puddle. How long had he been asleep? Was it Christmas again already? Had he time travelled? That sounded completely ridiculous but anything was plausible at this madcap school of his. It was much likelier that he was simply dreaming, though why Dumbledore was in his visions, he had no idea. That would be a psychiatrist's field day.

"Gifts," Dumbledore explained as if it was a completely normal situation. "From your many admirers."

Harry was sure he'd never had any of them before. Unless you counted the students who stared at him all the time, which was far too high a proportion of the student body than he would have liked. He tended to class them more in the stalker category more than anything. "Admirers?" His brain was only able to echo what had already been said. It was much easier to repeat something rather than thinking for yourself. Thinking currently hurt too much.

"Your exploits with the Philosopher's Stone and Professor Quirrell are top secret. Which invariably means that the whole of Hogwarts knows by now. I suppose that they wanted to show their gratitude through slowly rotting your teeth with all of this confectionery."

"Do they understand why the stone was so important?"

"You'll find, Harry...may I call you Harry for the ease of this conversation?" He waited until the boy numbly nodded his head. "You'll find that the majority of rumours and gossip do not require a great deal of detail to gain traction. They know that you helped the school out when it was in grave danger. Beyond that, it's safer if they concentrate on other things."

"What...actually happened?" Harry rubbed at his head. "I'm finding it hard to remember much of what happened after we made it into the last chamber. Are you going to tell me or is it safer if I forget?" He didn't want to lose any of his memories. He expected it would be quite a strange, possibly traumatic, experience. As far as he was concerned, his memories were his own personal property that only he could access.

"I'm sure that the fog will clear eventually so there really is no need to hide anything from you. If I wanted to erase some of your thoughts, I would have done so already."

"You...can do that?" Why was he so surprised? He suspected that Dumbledore could do anything he wanted.

"It's a fairly simple spell but one that can be corrupted by those with ill intentions. I've realised over my many years that memories are too valuable a resource to be tampered with willy nilly."

"So...you haven't wiped my mind?"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with humour. "No, I haven't. There's no need to be concerned." He stroked his impossibly long beard. "I'm sure you want to be enlightened so I shall retell the story after the point I believe you were lost to us." The headmaster moved in his chair slightly (Harry was only just noticing that it was a plintz armchair that had no right to be in the medical wing) and made himself comfortable. "Professor Quirrell thought he could use you to protect himself from me. As you could probably tell, he was not anticipating my early return. I must commend you on alerting Professor McGonagall so promptly." He looked over his half moon spectacles with what Harry thought must have been pride. His chest swelled at the recognition. "What Quirrell was unable to predict was that he could not touch you. The sensation was enough to burn him and, by the time he realised what was happening, it was too late for him."

"I...killed him," Harry said with a sudden, heavy realisation. He looked at his hands, picturing blood all over them.

"No." Dumbledore's response was short and firm. "You had no active role to play in this."

"Then why did it happen?" He was faintly aware of his voice being raised and he felt himself growing increasingly hysterical.

The renowned wizard paused for a few moments, trying to think of what was best to say. "Do you remember seeing a face on the back of Quirrell's head?"

Harry nodded. "I don't know how I knew but...as soon as I saw it...I knew it was…" He couldn't find the strength to finish the sentence.

"What remained of Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore finished for him. "And I must tell you to not fear saying his name. To be afraid of something just gives it more power than it actually has. It seems that, whatever happened on that fateful Halloween night, Voldemort was not completely removed from this realm. And I am sure that it will not be the last time we have to face him."

"He's still alive?" Harry gasped. "I thought that...if Quirrell...died...then that would mean…"

"Unfortunately, that is not the case. Voldemort left Quirrell once he realised that he was no longer a viable host, exemplifying how merciless he is. Even to his followers."

"None of this explains why Quirrell couldn't touch me."

"Ah, an interesting conundrum. I have a theory, one I truly believe in, but a theory nonetheless. You are protected by something that Voldemort could never understand, nor Quirrell. The night your parents died...such a tragic, terrible night...your mother sacrificed herself to save your life. Such an act can only be born out of the purest devotion, an unbreakable bond of love. The bond between a mother and her child. And that love is still there, guarding you. Quirrell could not touch you because he had become, thanks in part to his master and partly because of the man he was, the embodiment of everything that is opposite to that love. He was ruled by power, greed, and a dark evil. To be in contact with the very thing he had lost on his dark path...it was too much for his weakened body to survive."

"So...a part of my mum is still with me?" Harry wondered in a small voice. He could feel his eyes beginning to well with tears. It was one thing to see her face in a mirror, but to know that she was still looking after him, despite the years that had passed and her rueful fate, was something else.

"Yes. And you must never forget that. People don't leave us when they die, not truly. They leave their marks...not physical ones like your scar...but an impression on our hearts that will never fade. It's good to remember that, when the days grow dark."

Harry sat up a little straighter, buoyed by that faith. "Vol-Voldemort...he seemed pleased that I was there, as if he were almost expecting it. Why is he so obsessed with me? Why did he want to kill me all those years ago? Did I do something wrong? Did my parents?"

Dumbledore let out a long and tired sigh. "Alas, that is not a question that you should know the answer to."

"But...it concerns me! Isn't it my right to know?"

His visitor held up a hand to stop him from continuing this argument before Madam Pomfrey heard and kicked him out. "You will find out one day. But only when you are ready to learn the truth. But know this, Harry - neither you or your parents have ever done anything wrong. Your parents were some of the best people that I had the pleasure of knowing. None of you deserved what happened and you must keep telling yourself that. It is easy to drown in one's self guilt if they don't keep people around to ensure they still float."

Harry nodded his head, albeit a bit sulkily. He guessed that a man as old and wise as Dumbledore was would know what he was doing. And the promise that it would all be revealed eventually was enough to keep him placated. For the time being. But things still weren't completely making sense to him, though that could have been down to the tiredness and the effects of his escapades more than it actually being complicated.

"I'm guessing that Voldemort thought he could use the stone to bring himself back to life. Back to normal. He's still alive, somewhat."

"It was one avenue he was pursuing, I'm sure. But a man as intelligent and brilliant as he is will have concocted more ways to bring about his return. But we will continue to stand in his way until there is nothing left of him to resurrect."

"But how come he couldn't get the stone? I saw it. I...felt it." His eyes widened and he reached down to his pant pockets, only to find that they were empty. "It's gone."

Dumbledore chuckled. "One of my more ingenious plans, I must say. The stone was hidden within the mirror but only someone who wanted it without intending to use it would be able to claim it. Voldemort would never abandon such selfish goals to fall into that category so the stone was always safe. The other defences were...deterrents, in a sense. But I guess they were not good enough to hold any of you back." He glanced over his glasses once more but his look wasn't disapproving, more...impressed. "When you saw the stone, without ever thinking to own it yourself, it was given to you. In the end, it was right under Voldemort's nose as soon as Quirrell grabbed you and he didn't realise. I'm sure that there is some irony in that."

"Where is it now then? Did you put it back?"

"It has been destroyed."

"What?" Harry shouted. The shadow of the matron shifted in her office at the sudden outburst but she didn't come storming in. "But Flamel…"

"You know about Nicolas? My, you did this properly didn't you. Such investigative skills will no doubt come in handy across the years. But, as for Nicolas, me and him had a discussion and agreed it was for the best that that temptation was removed from the world once and for all."

"But...won't he and his wife...die without it?"

"Yes. They have enough elixir to put their affairs in order and then they will depart this realm. To someone as young as you, I'm sure it seems quite strange to think about. But death is just the next great adventure, one he and his wife can now go on together. You should not pity them after they have had such a long life."

"It's just a shame. I bet Hermione would have liked to have met him and picked his brain. She was fascinated by it. Well, she's interested in everything really. And Matthew seemed to know a lot about it too." Harry's eyes went wide. How could he have forgotten? It definitely had to do with how groggy he was feeling. "Matthew and Hermione! Are they okay? Where are they?"

Not for the first time, Dumbledore laughed lightly. "They are perfectly fine. They had a few minor rope burns but nothing that Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix with a flick of her wand. In fact, they have been visiting every day to see if your condition has improved, or so I'm told. Mister Mormont, in particular, has been rather insistent upon seeing you, claiming that he would be able to heal you a lot faster if he was given the chance. I am certain that, if he put his mind to it, that would be entirely possible with his capabilities."

Harry was intrigued. "Do you know something about him that I don't?"

Dumbledore looked particularly uncomfortable. "Once more, I must disappoint you. If there are any truths to reveal, that is entirely down to him. But what is most important is that you have two loyal friends who are willing to stick by. That is a valuable resource even more powerful than the Philosopher's Stone." He looked over at the pile of presents that had been left, picking up a box of Every Flavour Beans. "Would you mind if I indulge myself? I don't think I've had one since I was unfortunate enough to get a vomit flavoured one. But it won't hurt to test my luck again." He popped a single bean into his mouth before choking in distaste. "Earwax! I guess some things never change."

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry was left alone for a short while in the medical wing after his eye opening discussion with the headmaster. It seemed that no other students had been foolish enough to get themselves injured with the school year so close to ending. Madam Pomfrey had checked him over as soon as Dumbledore had left and had remarked that there was nothing else to do now apart from letting him rest. He'd hoped that there would have been a chance of letting him leave to enjoy their last few days at the school, but the matron was having none of it. He was confined to bed rest, much to his annoyance. But at least it allowed him an opportunity to think over the chaotic events of the last week.

He had survived, which had to be seen as a major bonus. Not many people could say that after facing off against Voldemort, even when he was in a weakened state. But he wasn't in the position to go around celebrating. It was highly unlikely that anyone would believe him if he said that the Dark Lord had returned. The wizarding world had recovered and moved on from that traumatic time and would be highly resistant to ever thinking that it could happen again. Thankfully, the rumours that had spread around the school seemed to have glossed over what the threat had been, which he was happy about. He had Dumbledore on his side, who didn't seem remotely surprised about Voldemort's reincarnation. That point troubled Harry as he wondered what else the older man was hiding, the things he knew that he thought no one needed to worry about. But who was he to question the wisest and most respected wizard in the country, possibly the world?

He also had two wonderful friends who would believe him, since they'd seen the whole thing happen. The issue there was whether they would still want to be associated with him. He knew it was silly but Harry couldn't stop fearing that, after seeing the danger that came with being him, they wouldn't want to risk being friends with him anymore. Voldemort had wanted to kill him, for some unknown reason, and he would continue to try to make that a reality. If they stayed by his side, it was possible that they would get caught in the firing line. What would he have done, if he were in their position? The rational move would be to protect themselves. Quirrell could have easily killed them instead of tying them up. Would he blame them if they made the decision to keep their distance? Possibly, though he would have understood their reasoning. This wasn't taking into account what Dumbledore had said, where the two of them had been visiting him constantly, which surely meant that they still cared about him. But he wasn't thinking rationally at the moment.

The doors to the medical wing burst open and the two people Harry most desperately wanted to see came barging in, not caring about the loud complaints from Pomfrey. She simply huffed and tutted but didn't kick them out, giving them some leeway after what they had been through. Matthew and Hermione both wore the same relieved looks when they saw that he was up and awake, a vast improvement from what they'd been forced to see on their previous visits. Hermione took the seat by the side of his bed whilst Matthew paced by the foot of it.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione wailed. "It's so good to see you're okay. We raced here as fast as we could once Professor Dumbledore told us the news. We were worried that you were going to...oh, it doesn't need saying! You're perfectly safe now and that's all that matters."

"Dumbledore gave us a rundown of what happened," Matthew said. "I don't think he wanted to but we were there to see everything. He couldn't avoid it." He pulled a piece of fabric from behind him and placed it on the bed. "He also wanted you to have this back. He said that he found it with the flying keys. You must have dropped it when we crashed into each other."

"How...how did he know it was mine?" Harry asked in confusion. "You don't think that...he's the one who gave it to me?"

"He knew your parents. I wouldn't put it out of the realms of possibility."

"I think he's sending the wrong message to the pupils if that's true," Hermione chimed in. "He's actively encouraging you to go and sneak around the school, breaking all sorts of rules. And if he knew that you were going to do this...you could have been killed, for goodness sake!"

Harry laughed, despite how correct she was. He never wanted her to change. "It's good to have you back, Hermione. As for Dumbledore...well, he's a funny one. I've had the chance to think since he spoke to me and I'm sure that he knows about everything that goes on in Hogwarts. Giving me the invisibility cloak was his way of telling me that he knew that we wouldn't be stopped in doing this. He wanted to give me the chance and did just enough to help us not die. Just think about the mirror - maybe it wasn't an accident that I stumbled across it. Perhaps he wanted me to face Voldemort."

"Which is a troubling thought all in itself," Matthew said. "If he's messing with your life, then he's way out of line. But...having a man like Dumbledore take an active interest in your safety...that's always a good thing. So I'm conflicted." He'd slowly stopped pacing by this point, now looking directly at Harry. "I wanted to say sorry, by the way. I shouldn't have let Quirrell get the better of me that easily. And then, when he did, I should have found a way to warn you. You were both put in danger because of my carelessness."

"He's been beating himself up about this since we got out of there," Hermione told Harry. "Just count yourself lucky that this is the first time you're having to hear it."

"There's no reason to apologise," Harry assured him. "Quirrell was a fully grown wizard, you're just a child. It would have been more concerning if you could have defeated him." Harry paused, thinking that the other boy was going to say something but he evidently chose not to. "Though I still want to know how you blew up that chess piece. Or how you duplicated those potion bottles. You keep showing off magic that should be way beyond us."

"Well, I'm just that good." There was no cockiness to his answer. Instead, he seemed rather evasive, as if he wanted to talk about anything other than that. He'd never shown himself to be shy about his achievements before so his behaviour looked incredibly peculiar. "But we're not here to talk about me, are we? We wanted to make sure that there were no lasting effects of your...I can't really call it a battle because all you did was stand there." He grinned when Hermione reached over to hit him on the arm.

"I'm hoping that you'll be alright to go to the end-of-year feast tomorrow," she informed him. "You look fine to me but I'm obviously not as good a healer as Madam Pomfrey. It should be a spectacular celebration. I overheard the Weasley twins talking about how the food is somehow even more impressive for the final meal."

"And we'll get to gloat in the faces of those Slytherins," Matthew added. "It was a close run thing in the end, between us and them. The quidditch team have been shocking by all accounts, which really dented our total, but we scraped through. Dumbledore gave us ten points each for speedy communication, or some rubbish like that. I think that tipped it in our favour, not that I'm complaining."

"At least you want me to be there," Harry mumbled without really thinking.

Hermione scrunched up her brow. "What do you mean by that?"

Harry was nervous now. He didn't want to voice his fear, just in case it actually gave them the idea to leave him. But he wouldn't be able to sleep properly until he knew for sure. "It's just...you could have been more seriously hurt because of being friends with me. I was worried that...you'd want to…"

"There's no point even finishing that sentence," Matthew butted in firmly. "Because it's stupid and nonsensical. We're not about to abandon you. Especially when things are getting interesting."

"What Matthew should be saying in a more delicate way," Hermione said, glaring at the aforementioned boy. "...is that we're your friends. Nothing is going to change that. And, if you are going to be put in more dangerous situations, then you're going to need us more than ever."

"She's the brains, you're the brawn, and I'm the eye candy." He quickly looked over at Hermione, who couldn't help but smile at his behaviour. "It's the perfect combination. We're practically unstoppable."

And, at that moment, Harry was fully prepared to believe him.

xxxxxxxxxx

They were right about the final feast of the year. It was over the top, to say the least. The banners were all crimson, images of lions roaring emblazoned onto them. Some Slytherins didn't even bother turning up, they were that disgusted at losing out to their arch rivals. Snape looked more sullen than ever as he sat at the head table but something in the way he looked at Harry was different to the usual disdain he saved for him. Harry had been surprised to see that Draco Malfoy was amongst the students that reluctantly bothered to show their faces in defeat, though that was probably so he could send one more glare towards him before the year was out. He didn't care in the slightest. Madam Pomfrey had allowed him to leave in time for the meal, mainly because of Dumbledore's insistence overruling her medical advice. He was surrounded by his friends, which he was even more grateful for than usual. Matthew and Hermione were forced to act as his bodyguards, shielding him from the many people that wanted to get up close and personal with him, questions about what had happened deep under Hogwarts constantly escaping their lips. Ron Weasley had pressed them insistently about the supposed chess game they had been involved in, wondering whether they had benefited from his one-time tuition. His remarks afterwards centred around the possibility of getting a piece of any reward they earned, since he'd obviously helped out.

The only person they allowed to pass their defences was Hagrid, who had cried and blubbered uncontrollably as he asked for forgiveness for being at fault for exposing the stone. It had taken a few attempts to get him to listen to their pleas, telling him that it wasn't his fault for being taken advantage of. The conversation had served another purpose, as well as the half-giant making quite a scene in the Great Hall. Hagrid had given him an unexpected present, a leather-bound photo album with pictures of his parents and extended family, including ones of him growing up (at least for one year of his life). He had turned the pages almost reverently, as if a part of him he hadn't even known existed was being restored. His friends had been curious about the contents but had allowed him to look privately, not wanting to invade this special moment. If a small part of Harry had wanted to blame Hagrid for what had happened, for nearly allowing Voldemort to return, then it disappeared as he took in this most precious of gifts.

Time seemed to fizz by after the meal was finished and Gryffindor celebrations were allowed to begin. Before long, Harry was packing his trunk and, with every item that was placed inside, he wanted to take longer, not wishing to leave his home. The thought of returning to the Dursleys was one that wiped the smile from his face but he tried to put it to the back of his mind for the time being - he wouldn't allow them to ruin the last moments of his first year. So he made the most of the time he had, spending time with Hermione and Matthew, the three of them taking it in turns to choose something to do. Harry would pick gobstones or other wizarding games that wouldn't be allowed in the Dursley household. Hermione would opt for reading outside in the sun, knowing that she would likely spend the majority of her Summer stuck in her room. And Matthew would regale them with far fetched stories, with the threat of not having anyone to talk to over the next few months hanging over his head. Of course, none of them voiced these concerns. They didn't want to potentially ruin it for the others.

Turning his back on Hogwarts, even if it was only for six torturous weeks, was difficult to do. Surprisingly, something that was even more difficult was finding something to talk about during the train journey back to London. None of them knew what to say with the thought of losing one another looming over them. They discussed trivial things but their hearts weren't really in it. On occasion, someone else would poke their head into the carriage, wanting to say their goodbyes, and that would provide some conversation for a few minutes...but that was as good as it got. Leaving Hogwarts was, in effect, leaving something of themselves behind. Their lives had brought them to this point, where they'd been able to be true to who they really were, and now that was being taken from them. It seemed silly but, to a kid, six weeks was an eternity. A lot could change in that time. A person could change. And what if those changes separated them, made them no longer compatible? There was something in their hearts telling them that that wouldn't happen but still the fears ate away at them.

They were forced to be a lot braver when they made it to King's Cross. It felt like a lifetime since they'd been here. Since Harry had been panicking, lost and alone, clueless as to what he had to do. Since Matthew had appeared like magic (rather aptly, now Harry thought about it) to guide him along those first few steps. Since Hermione had been stunned that someone had wanted to help her, that someone was being nice to her. They hadn't looked back since. And, now they were being made to reminisce, they didn't want to lose that. Stepping through the barrier and making their way back into the Muggle world, that was the moment they knew that they were hiding, unable to share the entirety of their personalities because the general public would never understand. Being in this world was a lie but a lie they would have to live.

A smile did light up Hermione's face when she spotted two figures waiting in the near distance. She waved over to her parents and the boys got their first look at the people who made the wonderful girl by their side. Her dad was wearing a nice green sweater and blue jeans, her mum dressed in a smart pantsuit. Both had rich brown hair, accounting for where Hermione's had come from.

The smile that she wore as she looked at Harry and Matthew was a little less truthful, dimmed by the reality they were facing. "I should go. They'll want to make the most of every minute they get with me, which I shouldn't really complain about." She was just realising who she was speaking to, both boys no longer having parents to wait for them.

"Go to them," Matthew said enthusiastically. "Go and enjoy your Summer! You don't need to worry about us two."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You will write, won't you? At least once every week, hopefully more. Even if it's mundane, I want to hear about it." Her eyes lit up with a thought. "Perhaps we could even meet up a few times! There's no reason for us not to, apart from the heavy workload we have."

Harry rolled his eyes and grumbled, rummaging in his pocket and producing a gold coin. He handed it over to Matthew, who already had his hand out waiting expectantly. "Thank you, very much," he said triumphantly.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked.

"We had a bet going to see how long it would take you to mention homework," Harry explained. "I had faith that you'd make it past the train station but I was obviously wrong."

Hermione let out a huff before she descended into giggles. "Oh, you two. I'm going to miss this."

"There's not a lot to miss," Matthew reminded her. "Since we're going to see each other."

"You really want to?"

"I'd see you everyday if I could," Harry added.

"Well, we'll have to organise something. I don't even know where you live, Matthew!"

"Oh, here, there, and everywhere," he answered evasively, as was the norm when it came to anything personal about him. "That's not an issue. I'll find you."

"Boy!" a grumpy voice shouted across the platform. Uncle Vernon was waiting impatiently, a scowl on his face as he tapped his foot. "I don't have all day! Hurry up!"

"Is that him? Your uncle?" Matthew wore a frown to match the one on Vernon's face, his hand gripping his walking stick more tightly than usual. "Do you want me to have a word with him? I could make your life a lot easier."

Harry was sure that the other boy would be capable of that but he found that he wasn't as intimidated by his oversized relative as he'd once been. "There's no need. The thing is, I don't think his words are going to have the same effect on me anymore, when I know that I have you two waiting for me."