Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they wanted to leave and be alone together. When Ron met his eyes, Harry nodded; rolling his eyes good-naturedly and Ron ran from the room holding a grinning Hermione by the hand.

Harry turned to his deceased Headmaster's portrait.

"Harry, is there something else?" Dumbledore asked, his electric blue eyes twinkling with pride at Harry.

Harry got the familiar sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore already knew what he was about to ask about but he said, "Yes sir. Professor, what was that creature in... Where ever we were and why were it beyond our help?"

"Ah, Harry. Once again I do not know. However, I do have an idea if you are so interested." said Dumbledore peering at Harry over his half moon spectacles. Harry nodded fervently and Dumbledore continued. "Well it is my belief that it was the piece of soul that had latched itself to you the night your parents died. It was beyond our help because it was Voldemort's, just as Voldemort is. Or was, I shall say" he concluded with a grin.

Harry James Potter sat up with a start, glancing around his darkened bedroom. His gaze landed on the still form of his five-month pregnant, hot-tempered wife, Ginny. Her even breathing reassured him that Ginny was deep in sleep, and if moved would not awaken. He reached around her to pick up his glasses, and his blurry room and wife came into sharper focus. Her flaming hair contrasted beautifully with her fair skin, and in the moonlight streaming in from the exposed window, he could count every freckle that dusted her pale face, giving her an ethereal look. She lay on her side, her arm slung protectively over her slowly bulging belly. Harry laid his hand gently on her stomach and brushed her bangs back from her face, letting his lips linger for a moment on her forehead.

"Harry…" he heard Ginny mumble fuzzily in her sleep. Harry's heart picked up in double time, and he smiled tenderly at his wife. He loved her so much.

Ginny, the only one who really and truly understood him.

Ginny, the love of his life.

Ginny, his equal and rival at Quidditch.

Ginny… the only girl he knew with such wicked mood swings.

Oh, she has horrible mood swings, the dry voice in Harry's mind told him, I assume you remember what happened after Voldemort died?

Oh, Harry definitely remembered. In fact, Harry remembered it very well…

Harry eased open the door leading from the passage to Dumbledore's office and peered out. Seeing no one, he scurried into the corridor, Ron and Hermione hot on his heels, holding hands.

Harry was glad they had gotten their happy ending, especially with all the years they were too dense to notice everything they had been looking for was right beside them. But at the moment, Harry was a bit more concerned with his own ending. Now that he was free of the prophecy, would his ending really be blissful? He knew Ginny would be saddened and most likely depressed by Fred's sudden and heartbreaking death, but he felt he should be there for his love.

But what if she doesn't want to talk to anyone, a small part of his mind nagged. (Come to think of it, that's the same dry voice who reminded him of this escapade!) What if you just make it worse, and then she ends up hating you? What if she doesn't want anything to do with you anymore, because if she didn't know you none of this would've happened?

No, Harry told himself. She never cared about that stuff before!

But grief can make me people change, his mind reasoned.

"I don't care." Harry stated, realizing too late he had spoken aloud.

"That's the spirit, mate." Ron said, gazing into Hermione's eyes. Hermione stared back, unabashed, till Ron become conscious of the fact that he, too, had said his sentence for all to hear.

Harry and Hermione burst into laughter, and together, hand in hand, the trio stumbled into the Great Hall.

Harry quickly scanned the room, searching for his Ginny. Her scarlet hair stood out from the crowd, along with her brothers and parents. She wasn't crying, but instead staring off into space, as if in shock.

He walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and laid his head atop hers.

Ginny swiftly turned in position and placed a well aimed punch in his gut.

"Ow!" He exclaimed.

"That was for getting yourself killed!" She said severely. She then leaned over and kissed him passionately. "And that was for coming back."

She buried her head in his chest and began to cry, the sobs racking her shoulders, and her breath coming out ragged. Harry wrapped his arms about her, and held her close.

No, Harry thought desperately, I don't want to think about that right now. I don't want to think about anything depressing.

After all, life wasn't always depressing, but it sometimes had hardships, sent to this earth with the purpose of making the world stronger. The whole point of living was to make others happy, to make the world laugh, right? Right. George's voice ran through his head, half-choked with tears and laughter, at Fred's FUNeral (as was posted on the formal invitations).

"Fred has just gone on to a better place. A place full of opportunities, full of new people, and the new people... wait a sec! The new people don't know of his mischievous ways! So many people, so many pranks..." George trailed off with a smile, his eyes wide at whatever Heaven he saw, until Mrs. Weasley coughed from the front row and George hastened to finish his speech.

"So, anyway. Fred will be very happy up there, and I'm sure he's watching us right now... wishing we'd stop crying and stop being so weepy! He'd want us to laugh. Fred devoted his whole life to making the world laugh, that and teaching Ginny our evil ways. So that what's I'm going to do."

Mrs. Weasley made an indignant noise from the pew, and George hurried to placate her. "Er, no, not corrupt Ginny anymore, don't worry Mum. But to make people laugh, because that's what Fred would've wanted. We should be celebrating his life, not mourning his death. May God rest your soul, Gred!"