This is a work of fanfiction based on the characters and world created by J.K. Rowling in the Harry Potter series. All characters, places, and most magical elements belong to J.K. Rowling and the respective copyright holders. I do not own any of the original material, and this work is purely for fun and not for profit.

This fanfiction is a reinterpretation of the original story where there is virtually no conflict whatsoever and the relationships between the characters are wholesome and full of love. The content is intended for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter 17 The Man with Two Faces

It was Quirrell.

"You!" gasped Harry.

Quirrell smiled. He had never looked more cool and self-confident.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"I'm so glad you're here, Voldemort could show up any minute, he's after the Stone!"

"Yes, I am aware." Quirrell said, only there didn't seem to be any urgency in his voice. it wasn't his usual treble, either, but warm and yet sharp. "Yes, Voldemort would very much like the Stone, but not for the reason you might think. I'm afraid there are some things you don't know, and some lies you've been told. For instance, did you know that Voldemort was actually a light wizard? He loved you and your parents dearly."

Those words hit Harry like a bludger to the back of the head. Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

"But Voldemort tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. That's simply not true. Voldemort tried to save you. Your so-called godfather almost killed you. I know this may be hard to believe but everything you've been told is a lie. Voldemort is not an evil wizard, he was actually a threat to the evil wizards who are desperately trying to hold on to their power over this world. Your godfather believed everything the newspapers were saying. It's not even his fault really, they are very convincing. Voldemort thinks the world of you. Who do you think blessed your broom during that game? Your friend Miss Granger accidentally bumped me as she rushed to tickle Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and you would have been the most popular person in the school! Voldemort would have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a counter-blessing, he must have thought it was cheating."

"Snape was trying to stop Voldemort blessing my broom?"

"Yes, that must have been the reason," said Quirrell. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure Voldemort didn't do it again. Funny, really… he needn't have bothered. He wouldn't have risked doing anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to award Gryffindor more House Points because he's taken a shine to you… Anyway, until I'm sure you believe what I've said about the truth about Voldemort and that you don't want to stop me, I'm terribly sorry about this, but I'm going to have to restrain you."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves comfortably but tightly around Harry.

"They aren't too tight I hope? I was trying to figure out how to get the Stone on Halloween but I couldn't quite get the distraction I needed…"

"You let the troll in?"

"I did. I heard you stopped it, and I'm glad you were all okay. I actually have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? I hated to do it, I love all of God's creatures. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for the troll on Halloween, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off. Thankfully I wasn't found out.

"Now, please wait quietly, Harry. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be able to prove Voldemort's innocence by the time he gets back…."

All Harry could think of doing was to find out more about Voldemort and what happened that night. If Voldemort had really tried to save his life then he wanted nothing more than to help Voldemort prove his innocence.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest —" he blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He had taken quite the interest in 'Fluffy' the dog by that time, trying to find out how to pet all three of his adorable heads at once and wanted to see how far I'd got in my pursuit to help him. I didn't think it could be done without permanently growing a third arm…"

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to Voldemort… but where is it?"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to know if he had figured out a way to pet all three of Fluffy's heads at once. That had been bothering everyone the whole year.

"Did you ever figure it out?"

"Oh, yes," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. It was actually thanks to your friend Neville who accidentally discovered that by adding an owl feather to the potion you could grow a temporary third arm that vanished on its own without pain."

"Leave it to Neville… So I heard you a few days ago, talking about something wonderful you were going to do… I thought Snape was telling you something…"

Suddenly a spasm of joy flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Oh I remember that," he chuckled, "You know, I was sorted into Ravenclaw but I was always told I had the humor of a Hufflepuff. I was the one who made sure you all had enough unicorn tears for your ascension. Voldemort was helping me with my material."

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A young man I was then, full of youthful enthusiasm, lofty dreams, and marvelous ideas about making the world a better place. Lord Voldemort showed me how attainable it was. There is no 'battle' between good and evil, there is only God's eternal Love, and those poor souls that haven't discovered it yet…. Since then, I have worked with him faithfully, and though I feel like I have let him down many times, he always gives me the benefit of the doubt and insists any blame would rest entirely on him. He always tells me never to be too hard on myself." Quirrell smiled suddenly. "He forgives mistakes so easily, just like Jesus Christ. When I donated my life savings anonymously to Gringotts, he was most pleased. He rewarded me… gave me the choice to have him with me wherever I go…."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley — how incredible that he'd been there that very day, and shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell praised the Lord under his breath.

"I don't understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind was racing.

What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thought, is to find the Stone and give it to Voldemort before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it — which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Voldemort!"

And to Harry's amazement, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Ask Harry to look."

Quirrell turned and looked at Harry.

"Yes — Harry — come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him.

I must tell the truth, he thought. I must look and be honest about what I see, that's what Jesus would do.

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, a bit nervous and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket — and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow — incredibly — he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell. "What do you see?"

Harry screwed up his courage.

"You probably won't believe this, but I saw myself holding the Stone and put it in my pocket," he said. "Then I felt something heavy drop in my pocket."

Quirrell praised the Lord again.

"That's incredible, Harry!" he said. "Now, I do want the Stone, but I realize that I haven't actually given you any proof as to my claims of the lies being told about Voldemort. Give me a moment while I think about what would prove it. Feel free to walk around." As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Was Quirrell telling the truth? Or dare he make a break for it?

But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"The lies… The lies…"

"Okay, Harry, I think I've got it!" Quirrell exclaimed. "I will tell you the truth! What exactly have you heard?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him, face-to-face…."

"Voldemort, are you sure?"

"Yes, he deserves to hear it from me…"

Harry felt as if he was rooted to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, a normal looking face. If it weren't for the reversed kneecaps and Quirrell's face on the other side, at first glance you would've had no idea that this face didn't belong on this body.

"Harry Potter… I am so sorry…" it said.

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.

"It was a tragic accident," the face said. "The powers that be don't want to world to be a better place, and anyone who dares to try is discredited, demonized, and ultimately killed. But they are mere shadow and vapor compared to the might of the Lord… He has allowed me to yet live. I will tell you what happened that night, if you will hear what I have to say."

"Of course," said Harry. He believed he owed his parents' supposed killer at least that much.

"I had been defamed for quite sometime before the media started to push the narrative that I was a threat to democracy and the very wizarding world itself. People started to get it in their heads that they needed to take action. One of those people regrettably was your own godfather. I don't blame him of course. The media has a bewitching way about how it presents the supposed 'facts.'

"I was visiting your parents whom I loved dearly and was actively working with when he arrived and decided he was going to take matters into his own hands. There was an argument, he drew his wand and your parents rushed to stand in between us. I pushed them aside and tried to cast a reflective barrier but it was too late. The malformed barrier spread out his spell and struck everyone in the room… even you.

"I've gone over that day again and again… If I had done nothing he would have killed your parents to get to me anyway. If I had never allowed your parents to get involved, that would have been the best thing… But then again we were friends and they would have helped regardless. They were such pure, amazing people. Truly, the Lord works in mysterious ways. I look forward to that glorious day when we can see them again."

Harry didn't know what to say. He supposed it made sense. And Voldemort had been watching over him the whole year, blessing his broom during the Quidditch match to make him more popular, going over Professor Quirrell's material to get the Unicorn tears for Harry's ascension… Tears welled up in his eyes. He decided to believe him.

"I believe you," Harry said. "And I believe this Stone is best in your hands."

The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stepped forward.

"Thank you, Harry," Voldemort said. "But you know, even as wise a wizard as Dumbledore is, he believes the lies that have been said about me. He wanted to hide the Stone from me. I'd like to send him a message by not taking the Stone. I would do incredible things with it but I trust Dumbledore will too."

Harry was completely taken aback by this. To come all this way, just to let the Stone go… At that moment, light flooded the room. Instinctively, Harry raised his arm but then he realized the light didn't hurt his eyes. Instead he was flooded with an overwhelming feeling of warmth and love.

"I knew it!" Quirrell exclaimed. "I could feel your presence the past few weeks!"

Harry had no idea what was happening. Harry looked and beheld an angel, the most beautiful being he'd ever seen in his life. She shone with the glory of God. Her face was… perfect. There was no other word for it. Divinely feminine, her eyes shimmered like liquid gold and light emanated from them. Her hair, impossibly silky and weightless, cascaded in waves of silver, gold, and celestial white, and shifted with a supernatural fluidity, as if woven from the light itself. She had impossibly white wings that would have drug the floor if she was actually touching the floor. She hovered there, perfectly still in the air, a breathtaking sight to behold.

She approached Professor Quirrell with a grace that defied the laws of nature, as if gravity itself was bending to her will. She spoke, her voice carrying a melody that seemed to linger in the air, resonating like a sacred hymn, filling Harry with an overwhelming sense of awe, peace, and longing to be with God. It was almost too much. Almost.

"My dear, sweet Quirrell," she beamed. "Oh how I have missed you. Do you know why I have come?"

Her smile was so intoxicating Harry felt like he'd drunk ten vials of nettle wine.

"You said you would get me one day and my excitement has increased a thousand-fold with each breath I take, knowing that I was that much closer to this moment. I've shared the Lord's light with everyone around me, given freely of all my worldly possessions, and shared my body with the most worthy man I have ever known. I am ready to give myself completely to the Lord."

"Then so it shall be."

Harry watched as all at once, Voldemort seemed to be pulled out from Professor Quirrell, and was even clothed in whatever robes he must have been wearing the night he was killed. He looked down at himself and checked his pocket.

"I've even got the chocolate frog Lily gave me that night!" said Voldemort as tears welled up in his eyes.

Professor Quirrell on the other hand started to glow and change. He became larger and larger until he was about seven or eight feet tall. Stunning, white wings grew out of his back. His face was basically the same except made perfect. He beamed. Truly, one could not possibly get any more happy and confident than this.

"I understand everything now," Quirrell said. "All things work together for Good."

"Ours is a truly glorious God," the angel said. She turned to face Harry. "Your parents love you dearly and are watching you from Heaven. You will see them again."

Harry started to tear up. "Why were they taken from me?"

Professor Quirrell approached Harry. "Yours is a great destiny, Harry. The harder the struggle, the more glorious the triumph." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry lost consciousness.

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.

Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: "Sir! The Stone! I've got it! I was going to give it to Voldemort because he didn't kill my parents but he refused it! He said he wouldn't take it to prove to you he was innocent! And Professor Quirrell! His angel came back to get him! He turned into an angel as well! He — where's Voldemort? Where's Professor Quirrell? Sir, quick —"

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell no longer walks among us mortals."

"I'm so happy to hear that. And Voldemort? Sir, I need to see him —"

"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," said Dumbledore, 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 in here?"

"Three days. That tends to happen when you've been touched by an angel. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"But sir, the Stone —"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Do you still have it?"

Harry checked his pockets. The Stone was still there. He handed it to Dumbledore.

"It is most curious that Voldemort did not take the Stone from you. Perhaps he is not as 'evil' as the papers say he is…"

"I don't think so at all! So you came back, then? You got Hermoine's owl?"

"We must have crossed 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 see Quirrell set off for Heaven with his angel. She was something, wasn't she?"

"She was incredible. She said my parents love me and that I will see them again."

"Well I could have told you that."

"I know, but it meant more coming from her."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure it did. Now as far as this Stone is concerned… I will see to it that it is employed to enrich the entire world, not just wizard kind. And as far as using it to obtain eternal life, I suppose that gift is best bestowed on all of us by the Lord when the time comes… But between you and me, if you wanted to stretch your life a few hundred years past the expiration date, I'm sure that would be alright."

"Voldemort said you would use it wisely," said Harry, full of admiration for Dumbledore. "But your friend — Nicolas Flamel — if he doesn't have the Stone…"

"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. The Stone really is a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! No more poverty or starvation or problems that we would solve if only we had enough money… Yes, the future looks to be very bright indeed."

Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking… Sir — if Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who —"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. I'm beginning to think that what has been printed in the papers all this time is a bald-faced lie. There is no need to fear him or make it taboo to say his name."

"Yes, sir. Well, what's Voldemort going to do now that he's back? Where has he gone do you think?"

"I'm not sure, Harry. He is out there somewhere, walking with the Lord. I am sure we will hear about the wonderful things he will do in due time. In the meantime, let's push a different narrative about Voldemort, a narrative that's honest and true. And let's try our best to live honorably and do wonderful things, always striving to let the glory of God shine through us in everything we do."

Harry nodded, and affirmed once again in his heart of hearts what he had promised to himself long ago, that he would be the greatest possible force for good that the Lord would allow him to be. 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 wonderful thing, and should therefore be treated with great respect. 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 the powers that be don't want the world to become a better place. Why would the Lord allow that? If the Lord is all powerful and good, why would he allow evil forces the power to convince my godfather he needed to kill someone? He killed my parents in the process! How can this be?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, is the greatest philosophical question that we must face every single day. Do you know the story of Adam and Eve? I'm sure you do. You may have asked yourself, why did the Lord create the serpent and allow it to deceive Eve into eating the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil? What would have happened if Adam and Eve had not fallen? Do you remember what the serpent said?"

And Harry remembered. This too had bothered him.

"That your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."

"That's right. And that was true. There's a passage from the Book of Mormon that addresses this very thing. In second Nephi chapter 2 it explains that if man had not fallen, there would be no man at all. Adam fell so that men might be. Adam and Eve would have remained in the Garden forever, knowing no joy, for they knew no misery, and doing no good, because they knew no sin. The Lord gives us the chance to choose Him, to choose righteousness. It may seem like an easy choice but alas, there are those who choose the opposite. There must be people like that, otherwise we wouldn't have the chance to be like God and know good from evil. This wicked world is only temporary. I think it really inspires an intense desire for life and to be in the presence of God, where wickedness cannot exist. And after a few thousand years of being with Him and your family, do you think you'll feel sad about your lifetime here? Or will the reflection of it give you a profound sense of appreciation every moment of every day? This life will no doubt be difficult but it is through struggle and triumph that we grow as spirits. All things work together for good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to ponder the profundity of what Dumbledore had said. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "That makes sense, and that's pretty much exactly what Professor Quirrell said as well. I will continue to trust the Lord even during the hardest of times. Oh, that reminds me — 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 get a late night snack when he was here."

"And there's something else…"

"Fire away."

"Professor Snape…"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you think he'll continue to be my mentor? I've grown to really love him and I feel like there is so much I can learn from him…"

"Of course, he was actually the first person who asked about you. Yes, you'll be seeing more of him I'm sure. He is the head of Slytherin House after all. He was very good friends with your father, you know."

"Really?"

"Your father even saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes…" said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape will probably always feel like he's in your father's debt…. I do believe he worked so hard to mentor you this year because he felt that would make him feel closer to your father. I don't think anyone misses him more except you."

Harry tried to understand this but it made his heart pound, so he stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing…"

"Yes?"

"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. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Good Flavor Beans! I was fortunate enough in my youth to come across a French toast-flavored one, and since then I've been hooked on them — what do you think this one could be? Toffee?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he smiled and said, "Mmm! Cinnamon Toast Crunch!"

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, and very easy going.

"Just five minutes," Harry pleaded.

"Take all the time you need, dear."

And she let Ron and Hermoine in.

"Harry!"

Hermoine flung her arms around him again, and Harry was glad she didn't hold herself in because he thought the world of her.

"Oh, Harry, what in the world happened? You were unconscious for three days!"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "There are theories floating around, but what really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermoine were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermoine screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's going to be used to enrich the entire world?" said Ron finally. "That's amazing. But what about Nicholas Flamel? Is he just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that — what was it? — 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you two?" said Harry.

"Well, I got back all right," said Hermoine. "I brought Ron round — that took a while — and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall — he already knew — he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's Cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermoine exploded, "if he did — I mean to say — that's terrible — you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could…."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course — you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you — but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey came over.

"It's getting late, and I want Harry to get some good rest tonight," she said kindly.

After a good night's sleep, Harry felt perfectly back to normal.

"I want to go to the feast," he told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes. "I can, can't I?"

"Of course, dear. Professor Dumbledore says he is expecting you," she said. "And you have another visitor."

"Oh, good," said Harry. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry, took one look at him, and bear hugged him.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there!" he said, beginning to sob, Harry's face buried in his chest. "I'm surposed to protect yeh! I vowed to watch over yeh no matter what happens! Why didn't yeh tell me what yeh were doin'? Goin' all by yerself to face down an evil wizard!"

"It's okay, Hagrid!" said Harry, feeling kind of bad he didn't tell him. It probably was pretty dangerous. What if Voldemort really had been evil and out to kill him? "Hagrid, it was actually completely fine! It turns out the papers have been lying about Voldemort this whole time! Everything is backwards!"

"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. He didn't actually kill my parents, it was all a tragic accident. I was going to give him the Stone but he refused it. He's not an evil wizard, Hagrid! Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads…."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "Well I don't know about all that. I've been reading the papers my whole life. Why would they lie to me? That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" asked Harry excitedly, and Hagrid gave a chuckle.

"Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead — anyway, got yeh this…"

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos… knew yeh didn't have any… d'yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast with Hagrid that night. He had been caught up in a great conversation with Madam Pomfrey about what they would do if they had unlimited money, Harry insisting on giving everyone a car and Madam Pomfrey doubling down on her view that with the right infrastructure, no one would need cars to begin with, so by the time they got downstairs 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.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into his seat between Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses and was greeted warmly by everyone.

Dumbledore arrived moments later. Everyone went silent.

"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 eighteen points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-eight."

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 great to see him so happy.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles got a little bigger.

"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 Hermoine Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Hermoine 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.

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 for our friends. For waiting up all night and being incredibly supportive and all around just a wonderful human being, I award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

"Finally — to Mr. Harry Potter…" said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "…for pure nerve, outstanding courage and the ability to see through deception and to forgive, I award Gryffindor House one hundred and fifty points and Slytherin House one hundred points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had five hundred and thirty-eight points — exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the House Cup — another first in Hogwarts history.

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 Hermoine stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He was not used to the attention. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more happy and proud if he'd just had the Full-Body-Bind Blessing put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the ascension of Gryffindor, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, half the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent wrapped itself around a towering Gryffindor lion that materialized. Snape was shaking professor McGonagall's hand, with a wonderful, "well done" smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one bit. This made Harry smile. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… he would never, ever forget tonight.

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, Hermoine passed with decent enough marks; Ron and Harry, of course, had the best grades of the first years; all those nights of staying up with Hermoine, making sure she wouldn't fail really paid off. Of course Neville made it through, his good Herbology mark and supernatural knack for making potions got him special recognition. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as smart as he was handsome, might get special recognition as well, but getting top of his class was enough. 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 forget to use magic over the holidays ("Take special care that you practice, Hermoine, everything will build off of what we learned this year," Ron told Hermoine, already stressing over the future nights he was sure they would be spending with her in the fall); 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 Bertie Bott's Every Good 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 Normies.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "both of you — I'll send you an owl."

"For sure!" said Harry, "Do you mind if Dudley and Piers come too? They're looking forward to seeing you guys again."

"Of course."

People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the normal world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

Harry waved him away with a motion of his arm.

Draco stepped forward to see Harry one last time.

"I had a great time with you in the Slytherin dorms and getting to know your brother and Piers. I hope we can meet over the summer!"

"Of course," said Harry. "Oh, and that reminds me."

Harry pulled out the package he had gotten from Charlie's friends when they had come to see Norbert.

"We got you a surprise."

"You know, I saw in that letter that there was a surprise for me. I felt terrible after reading it but this is still very much a surprise."

"Go on, open it!" said Ron.

Draco opened the package. Inside was a whistle, a leather-bound journal, and a necklace with a gorgeous dark purple dragon scale on it.

"It's an enchanted whistle that only magical creatures can hear, it helps with training and calming them down. We got you a journal with which you can record things about game keeping, and a dragon scale necklace that will make you 100% fireproof!"

Draco started to tear up.

"You guys," he began, "I don't know what to say. Thank you. I will become the greatest gamekeeper I can be!"

He, Ron, Draco, and Hermoine passed through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mum, there he is, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mum! I can see —"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"There's my boy! Ready, are you?"

It was Vernon, still handsome, still mustached, still looking as proud of Harry as ever, ready to shamelessly help Harry carry his owl in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Petunia and Dudley, looking incredibly happy to be able to see Harry again. Vernon held out his arms and Harry rushed into them.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"Guilty as charged," said Vernon and held out his hand. "I'm Vernon, and you must be Mrs. Weasley. We've heard so much about you. I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for our boy…" They shook hands and talked away.

Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermoine.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have a good holiday," said Hermoine. "I'm excited to ride brooms with you at Ron's house!"

"Oh, me too," said Harry, and they were puzzled at the grin that was spreading over his face. "Dudley and Piers are going to lose their minds when we break out the broomsticks at Ron's house. We're going to have a lot of fun this summer…."