Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. In fact, I don't own much of anything, so it wouldn't do JKR much good to sue me.

Disclaimer2: This might be considered an AU fic, in the sense that Hogwarts wouldn't have Graduation ceremonies like this. If it did, this is what I would want to see.

You know that they'll expect you to make a speech, mate," Ron said gingerly. "They'll want some words from their hero."

Harry exhaled uneasily. The razor blade hovered in his right hand, mere centimeters from his jawbone, a glob of shaving cream wobbling indelicately on its end. He did not turn to look at his oldest and closest friend, standing a few feet to his left. Instead, he stared at the small circular mirror poised on the wall above the basin. Reflected in it he could see a pair of hard, impassive eyes. The expression on his own face was hard to read. He elected to ignore the words Ron had just spoken. "You know, it's not that he ever talked all that much" he remarked conversationally, as if he were discussing an impending Transfiguration exam. He could tell that Dean and Seamus were listening as well, since they were making little more noise than the stone walls of their bedroom. He slid the razor blade down the rough surface of his face, shearing off a thin stripe of stubble, and went on: "But all the same it's so much quieter in here without him."

If the conversation had been sparse before, that statement killed it off completely. Harry did not mind, though: of late he preferred the deathly still that had settled over the castle. Instead of letting his mind wander, he was free to think about nothing at all. He went on shaving in even, unhurried strokes. He stared mutely at his own reflection, letting his eyes wander to discolored patch of forehead, directly above and between his eyes. Perhaps it was simply his imagination, but it seemed that the scar had begun to fade somewhat in the week since that great, final battle. He would have asked Dumbledore about the significance of this event, if only the possibility were open to him.

Both born as the seventh month dies, to parents that had thrice defied Him. That scar had been a part of him since his birth, and he felt an odd sense of loss at the prospect of it disappearing. He hoped that this meant that his life was finally free of Him, that he could concentrate on just being Harry Potter, instead of being the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Man-Who-Slew-Lord-Voldemort. As it stood, he knew better. There would always be dark wizards, would always be evil, would always be more than he or anyone else could conquer.

The Dark Lord would mark him as his equal. Harry realized that his face was now thoroughly shaved, and his skin was turning progressively pinker under each ensuing stroke of the razor. He dipped it into the murky waters of the basin and maintained his vigil with the mirror. He no longer worried what others might think about him, and so unabashedly parted the untidy hair falling into his face, staring all the more fixedly at the scar. Two boys, two killing curses; one left with a scar, the other –

"I don't know why you still use that thing," Ron said loudly, shattering the silence in the room.

In the periphery of his vision, Harry saw Dean's hand cover his heart in surprise. Seamus, too, seemed a little unnerved at the sudden sound. Harry looked wordlessly at the gaunt redhead beside him.

Ron Weasley was wearing his newest set of dress robes, and was idly brushing his hair in another mirror mounted on the wall. He knew where Ron's previous set of robes had come from, purchased by the twins but financed by himself. The Weasley parents must have bought this new set, all black and dully lustrous, quietly and with little ado. Harry gaped at him for a moment, wondering when Ron had gotten so tall.

"I mean, really, mate," Ron went on in the same resounding voice. "I can't imagine that Grooming Charms are beyond your ability."

Harry nearly smiled at this subtle jab at his reputation, but thought better of it. There was a time when Ron had seemed envious of Harry's fame, but those days were long gone. Ron, of anyone, knew that Harry was no one to be envied. "I learned a thing or two among the muggles that weren't completely useless," he said grimly. Dean gave a nervous snort, but then looked supremely embarrassed by it and went back to his own preening. "In fact, the muggles have a few customs that are quite to my liking."

Ron did not press the issue. He sighed loudly and comically. "I guess you can take the muggle out of the city, but — alas." He stopped playing with his brilliantly red hair and cast his gaze around the room, taking in the other three male graduates of Gryffindor house. "Are you girls done with your hair yet? Or should I ask Hermione to help you with your make-up?"

Nobody laughed, but Harry noticed a pair of shy smiles on the faces of the other two. Dean and Seamus were sitting on the edge of Dean's four-poster bed, looking expectantly at Harry and Ron.

"Whenever you are, Ron," Harry said dryly. The other two nodded their agreement.

"Well, let's go then," Ron thundered, sending the other two scrambling to their feet.

Seamus spoke up at last. "They 'on't wait fer us all day, will they?"

Ron cackled. "I don't imagine they'd start without, um, us," he said, looking at Harry with his usual kidding eyes.

Harry ignored this as well. He grabbed his wand and vanished the basins and mirrors they had conjured for their preparation. He inserted his wand into his robes, where he had rigged an unobtrusive holster above his left hip.

"Think you're going to need that?" Ron asked, his voice suddenly sounding concerned again.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Likely not," he decided. "It's more for show, I think."

Ron shrugged, and headed out of the room. Dean and Seamus followed quickly, leaving Harry alone with the five beds. Casting one last, wistful glance at the neatly made bed in the corner, Harry stepped out and closed the door behind him.

At the bottom of the spiral staircase, Hermione was tidying up the boys, straightening collars, and tucking robes in. "There you are," she said in an officious voice. "I was about to send Nick up there to fetch the lot of you. Oh Ron, I never should have let you dress yourself." She jerked impatiently at his robes for several moments, until his robes were ordered to her liking.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said dully.

She turned to look at him. "Can't we do something about your hair?" she asked softly.

Harry narrowed his eyes seriously. "No."

Hermione accepted this without further comment. "Okay, let's go then. I imagine McGonagall is already livid." She led the boys across the Common room and out of the portrait hole. They made their down from Gryffindor tower in silence. The only sounds in the whole castle were those made by their feet on the stone floor, and the rhythmic swishing of their robes. Harry focused on this noise, keeping his thoughts from straying too far. He must have lost track of time, so rather than savoring his final walk through the halls of Hogwarts, he found suddenly that they were on the ground floor.

It all happened in an instant. An eerie clinking noise from above was their only hint at what was coming. Before Hermione's panicked yelp had risen through her throat, Harry had already thrown open his robes and drawn his wand, aiming it with lethal intensity at the menace above.

Peeves' ghastly eyes went wide in alarm, and he halted his approach in midair, the paint bucket swaying dangerously above them. Keeping his attention on the tip of Harry's wand, the poltergeist drifted slowly backward, to the nearest wall and through it. The paint can, of course, could not make the same trip, and fell to the ground at the edge of the wall. It made a painfully loud racket, and slopped paint all about. Thankfully, none of them were doused.

"Well," Dean breathed in relief. "That was a close call."

"I guess you were right," Ron said bemusedly to Harry. "More for show, huh?" Ron did not have to complete the thought: no one in their right mind would face Harry Potter, angry and armed.

Harry, who had watched Peeves retreat without comment, neatly inserted the wand back into its holster and closed his robes around it. "Shall we?" he said stiffly, looking toward the great front doors of the building.

Hermione looked dubiously at the can on the ground, and the mess of scarlet paint that surrounded it. "Shouldn't we clean that up first?" she asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head. "Leave it for Filch," he growled. There were still a couple of people at Hogwarts for whom he had no love.

The matter settled, the five Gryffindor stepped through the doors of the castle, and out into the summer afternoon outside.

Harry watched Hermione as she strode gracefully across the stage to the podium. She produced a roll of parchment, which she laid out in front of her. She cleared her throat curtly, and then pointed her wand at her throat, clearly pronouncing the word "Sonorous."

Behind her back, the staff of Hogwarts was arrayed in two long rows of comfortable-looking chairs. Mingled into their ranks were various dignitaries and representatives of the Ministry, including Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Harry could see most of the teachers were leaning forward in their seats eagerly, waiting for her speech. With a scowl, Harry noticed Professor Snape in the last seat on the front row, staring into open space with a bored look on his sallow features.

"I don't mind telling you that I stressed considerably in preparing for this speech," she said quietly, but her voice boomed out across the expanse of the Quidditch pitch. There must have been a hundred thousand souls present there, far and away a record for a Hogwarts Commencement. Naturally, most everyone in the Wizarding Community had wanted to see it, whether they personally knew any of the graduates or not. Additionally, this was the first ceremony that Muggles were invited to, and they turned out in surprising strength.

"Anyone who knows me can tell you that stress isn't exactly a foreign concept to me," Hermione went on, laughing furtively. After a moment, she went on in a more solemn voice. "This task is particularly onerous, since this is no ordinary valediction. This day will go down in magical history. Just a week ago, the wizarding community banished even the shadow of evil from our presence. I would call him up here if I thought he wouldn't hate me for it. I would say his name, if I thought there was even one of you who did not know who he was. I shall merely say that my task as a speech writer has been made all the more imposing by the presence of such a distinguished and famous wizard, and I'm thankful that I can call him a friend."

Harry did not look at the stage, but he did not think that Hermione was looking at him as she said this.

"In more general terms, this ceremony is special because of the presence of Non-magical folk – Muggles. For the first time in Magical history, the walls that separated our societies were brought down, as we faced together a menace to all of us. So you can see that perhaps I felt the need to give you a little something more today than the average valediction.

"The trouble was, I had no idea what that might be. My head is crammed full of Protean charms and Defensive Jinxes and Potion Recipes, but I couldn't think of anything that was relevant for all of you to hear. Finally, at the point of despair, I hit upon the solution. You see, the single most amazing aspect of my time here at Hogwarts was not my classes, was not the tests I took, or even the astonishing adventures I had outside of class. The best and most important aspect of my education at Hogwarts was the friends I made here. So, if I wanted to make a speech about my experience at Hogwarts, it is only natural that my friends be the source of it. I present to you the suggestions that I was given by my two closest friends."

Harry leaned up in his seat, looking intently up at the stage now. He remembered clearly the bit of advice that Ron had given Hermione just the night before, and a sense of gleeful exhilaration coursed through his body as Hermione stepped out from behind the podium into full view.

"My boyfriend has always had a great sense of humor, so it is no small wonder that he advised me, albeit jokingly, to skip the speech altogether and well-" In a single, fluid motion, Hermione whirled around on her heel, hiked up her robes, and displayed her bared tail end to the stunned crowd.

There were several moments of astonished silence, until Ron Weasley began hooting in joy: "That's my girl! That's my girl!" After this, the dam waters broke, and the entire audience erupted into gales of laughter and a series of catcalls. Harry did not laugh himself, or even smile, but his eyes widened and he could not seem to get his mind around what he had just seen.

In the meantime, Hermione had restored her robes and retreated behind the podium. A red-faced Professor McGonagall was trying to get Hermione's attention without bringing any on herself, but the Valedictorian was studiously oblivious. After a few minutes, the furor died down, and Hermione went on, her voice husky and her cheeks flushed. "Let it be remembered that my first message was one of joy and frivolity, for these are indeed times of celebration." A ragged cheer went up at this, but Hermione cut them off. "The second message came from a man I admire greatly, a man who has suffered intensely in his lifetime for the greater good. I talked to him, well, to Harry, the day after his now-legendary confrontation with Lord Voldemort." Hermione paused, letting her words soak in.

Harry marveled at the response to these words. In the last week, it seemed, everyone in the magical community had begun using his name without fear. "I asked him how it felt to be done with it at last. I had expected jubilation, or relief at least. He was, however, gravely serious. 'It's not over yet,' he said to me. 'And it never will be'. This, then, is my second message: Even though it seems that we have vanquished evil, it still exists. There will always be new challenges, new dangers."

Harry could not help glancing at the end of the row in front of him, where Draco Malfoy sat, staring angrily at the stage. While his parents had been arrested and locked up for the rest of their natural lives, Draco had emerged from the final battle intact. Plenty of crimes were suspected of him, but nothing had yet been proven.

"We will always need new heroes to face these evils. We will need people like Harry Potter, yes, but we'll need more than that. We will need Neville Longbottoms and Albus Dumbledores, noble souls who gave their lives for this epic struggle; people we should revere above all others. We will all need to keep a watchful eye out, and to make the greater good our own, personal goal."

There was a burst of applause from the captivated audience, but Hermione was not done. "It seems odd to be giving dire warnings on a day like this," she remarked, almost to herself. "On such a beautiful day, when we are gathered in celebration, it is hard to remember that there are dangers out there. Looking up at this noble school," she evinced, gesturing to the castle looming in the distance, "I feel thankful, because I know there is at least one place where children are being taught the right things, and taught the right way. Thank you."

Harry had been tuning out the crowd noise to the best of his ability, but the applause that followed Hermione's speech was so thunderous that his chair hummed in vibration. He was on his feet, cheering, and beating his hands together, along with a hundred thousand others for several minutes. Hermione left the stage and walked hurriedly back to her seat among the students, and Harry could tell even from far away that she was blushing furiously.

Professor McGonagall retook the stage and brought the assembly back to order, but it took her a few minutes to accomplish it. After extensive use of her most intimidating look, she persuaded the audience to retake their seats. "Well, that was… revealing," she declared at last, eliciting a polite burst of laughter. "Now that we have all seen, ahem, a different side of Mz. Granger, let us get on with the program."

Harry found his thoughts drifting again. He scanned the broad, summer sky, as if subconsciously awaiting something. He knew that the pitch had been enchanted, charmed, and protected in every magical way possible to prevent interruption, but somehow things seemed anxiously peaceful to him. He was pulled from these thoughts when he heard Minerva McGonagall's booming voice.

"Hannah Michelle Abbott," she proclaimed, then added Hannah's prospective career: "Ministry of Magic, Department of Muggle Affairs".

Hannah got up from her seat and ascended to the stage from a wide plank at the side. The crowd swelled with polite applause, punctuated by the jubilant exclamations of a small group, likely the graduate's family. Harry applauded along with the other students around him. Hannah crossed the stage with measured, efficient steps. She shook hands heartily with Professor Flitwick and accepted her diploma from Professor McGonagall. At the end of the stage, Professor Vector patted her on the shoulder and directed her to the down ramp.

"Susanna Emily Bones," Professor McGonagall called out, as soon as the first graduate had left the stage. "Gringotts Banks, Code-Breaking Division."

The applause for this graduate was much like the last, and rather similar to "Terrence Alexander Boot, Ministry of Magic, Department of Mysteries." It all seemed rather unusual to Harry, and it was not until "Justinius Theophilus Finch-Fletchley" was announced that Harry figured it out. McGonagall's voice betrayed a sterner tone as she said "Retail Management with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes International." There was a thick chorus of laughter from the magical portions of the crowd, and Harry knew that somewhere in the audience, the entrepreneurial Weasley Twins were beaming. Harry realized that the applause for each graduate was general and unilateral.

In all of his Hogwarts experience, Ravenclaws had cheered for Ravenclaws. Hufflepuff had watched out for Hufflepuffs. Gryffindors and Slytherins cheered their own as loudly as possible to drown out the hissing from the rival house. Now, it seemed, the entire student body was a unity. Seven years before, they had come to Hogwarts in the dark of night, and had been separated into four houses. Now, at their graduation, the four parts had become one whole again.

"Hermione Jane Granger," Professor McGonagall went on, her voice tremulous with indecipherable emotion. "No career plans announced."

The applause from the student body was pronounced, but the rest of the audience really let loose. Maybe it was that Hermione was one of the few names the Muggles recognized, but the volume reached such a level that even McGonagall's amplified voice could not cut through it. She waited for several minutes, tapping her fingertips on the podium patiently, for the crowd to quiet down. After Hermione, still blushing visibly, retook her seat among the students, the applause died out.

Professor McGonagall started again, seeming to have difficulty in speaking. "Neville Franklin Longbottom," she managed, her voice little more than a gasp. "Posthumously. To receive the diploma, Mz. Loretta Angeline Longbottom."

A gaunt, thinning woman emerged from a separate section of seats and made her way up to the stage. Harry craned his neck to watch as Cornelius Fudge appeared at the entry ramp, and offered her his arm, leading her up to the podium. The audience watched in silence for a moment. There were no whoops or exalting cheers, but instead a strong and solemn round of clapping. Harry realized that he was on his feet after the fact, when he and everyone else say down again. Mz. Longbottom returned gracefully to her seat, her shoulders shaking slightly.

After the Patil twins went up to the stage together, McGonagall called forward "Sally-Anne Perks," a prospective Healer at St. Mungo's, and Harry realized suddenly that the seats next to him were empty, and a nervous spasm passed through his bones.

"Harold James Potter," McGonagall said, rather sooner than he had expected. He rose, maintaining eye contact with the Headmistress. "Ministry of Magic, Auror Training." He made his way to the aisle and strode toward the stage.

He had expected applause. In fact, he had expected a lot of it. The silence was oppressively thick, save for the shuffling sounds of the entire audience getting to their feet. As he rounded the corner to the onramp, he saw that a hundred thousand people were standing in front of their seats, holding their hands to their chests, their hats off. He was stunned to realize that they all seemed to be smiling at him.

Slightly unnerved, he ascended the ramp to where Professor Flitwick was holding his diploma. Harry could see that the staff and dignitaries on the stage as well had gotten to their feet, and were watching him attentively. The diminutive wizard handed over the rolled up parchment (which was glowing golden somewhat ominously) without a word. Then, in an equally laconic gesture, Professor Flitwick raised his hand in a solemn salute to Harry. Harry nodded appreciatively, not sure how to respond. After a breathless moment, the little man lowered his hand, and Harry stepped forward to Professor McGonagall.

Minerva McGonagall seemed to be fidgeting slightly. Her right hand came forward hesitantly, but then pulled halfway back as her arms expanded. She wrapped Harry in a maternal embrace, and squeezed him tightly. After a long moment, they pulled apart and Harry looked at her through watery eyes.

"So… that's it, isn't it?" he asked shakily.

"Yes, Harry, it's over," she agreed. At some point she must have ended the Sonorous Charm, but Harry had missed it.

"I'm… done?" he asked quietly, not wanting the rest of the world to hear. "I've graduated? It's official?"

She looked a little puzzled. "Yes, Harry. Congratulations."

"I mean… I'm no longer a student at Hogwarts?" he asked urgently.

"Erm, no…" she answered, a look of concern flashing across her weathered features. She looked as if she were going to ask him what was wrong, so her hurried past her.

The audience must have been waiting for this moment; as Harry walked away from the podium they unleashed a torrent of applause that was almost violently loud. The faculty and visitors were still on their feet respectfully. Next to the end stood Fudge, who took a step forward pompously as Harry approached. It was apparent that the Minister sought some special word or gesture with the young hero, one more political show for the watching thousands.

Future boss or not, I don't want to be apart of that. Harry walked right past Fudge, and then stopped, turned on his heel, and faced Severus Snape, seated at the end of the row.

"Professor," Harry said stiffly.

"Potter, I don't care what you've done," Snape breathed icily. "You don't have the right to hold up the Commencement Ceremony like this."
Harry nodded somberly. "I agree," he said, "But I have a message for you, Professor."

Snape looked flabbergasted. "From who?" he asked incredulously.

"From Neville," Harry breathed.

Snape's face became increasingly confused. Harry gave him no more time to ponder the question, but instead threw all of his weight into his right arm, slamming his fist directly into Snape's hook-shaped nose with blinding quickness. The Potions Master flew backwards under the impact of the blow, toppling over the chair behind him. He landed rather roughly at the feet of a startled Professor Vector.

"Harry!" Minister Fudge exclaimed in disbelief, but Harry ignored him. The applause that had been shaking the stage a moment before ceased as the stadium became deathly silent. Harry scarcely noticed, but kept his attention on Snape, who had quickly produced his wand, the tip glowing brightly with malevolent energy. Harry threw open his robes with a fluid motion, the butt of his wand sticking out of its holster. He cast an appraising look at the Potions Master on the ground.

Snape stared mutely at the wizard in front of him, his eyes lingering on the wand that brought down Lord Voldemort. Snarling furiously, he threw his own wand aside in surrender.

Harry smiled thinly, then stepped forward, and pulled the other man up from the ground. He picked up the chair as well, and set it upright. He nodded once, as if to say "Well, that's it then," and left the stage to a small but spirited burst of applause from the student body. He walked back to his row, soaking in adulation from his classmates.

"Killing Lord Voldemort was neat and all, but that was the coolest thing you've ever done!" Ron exclaimed, almost beside himself.

Harry, Hermione and the Weasley family were congregated underneath the north end goals of the Quidditch Pitch, enjoying a few moments together after the ceremony.

"Well, I suppose that was, well…" Mrs. Weasley began.

"Truly righteous!" Hermione exclaimed, standing beside Ron. She smiled at Harry earnestly.

"Well, now-" Mrs. Weasley tried again.

"I think I might want to marry you again," Ginny exclaimed seriously, almost to herself. Harry looked at her for a moment, bewilderment apparent on his face. Ginny flushed scarlet and turned away.

"This is terrible," Fred remarked dejectedly, surprising them more than Ginny had.

"What?!?" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, unable to believe his ears.

"He's right," George echoed hollowly.

"We had so much planned!" Fred rejoined.

"Fireworks-"

"Exploding Pastries-"

"Goblins in bikinis!"

"It was supposed to be-"

"Our grandest stage!"

"But we've been shown up!"

"That's just too hard of an act to follow!"