Going... home

Still Harry's P.O.V.

Something gold was glinting just above me. The Snitch! I tried to catch it, but my arms were too heavy. I blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange. I blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above me.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore. I stared at him.

Then I remembered. "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick—"

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I—"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

I swallowed and looked around me. I realized I must be in the hospital wing. I was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and to my right 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, Delilah 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. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

Suddenly, I heard a beeping noise beside me, as I turned my head and saw lying on the bed next to me. Delilah.

"Sir, is she… she saved my life… and I... I never go to say thank you... and... will she—" I managed as I glanced at Dumbledore who was looking at Delilah as if he was ready to cry. I had never seen him look so lost or broken, but a small smile escaped on his lips as it made me slightly frown. Why is he smiling?

"Hopefully one day you can say it in person Harry." He smiled weakly as my frown deepened.

"Only two people have ever survived the killing curse once, and that's the both of you, Harry. Now is appears one can survive it twice. Delilah did die, but somehow when I came to find both of you, her heart was still beating. She is currently in a coma… one which even I don't know if she will come out of," Dumbledore explained as I gulped, looking over at the most beautiful girl in the world, who saved my life. Why couldn't I save her life for once?

She could forever sleep and not know how thankful I would be toward her. A small whimper broke me from my thoughts as I saw Atlas, her phoenix, fly to the bed, with a letter in his beak. He nestled himself protectively beside the right side of her body, digging his way under the palm of her hand. I could have sworn I saw her hand move slightly, but thought I only imagined it.

"What happened to her scar? Did she get another one?" I asked him. He nodded. I tried to understand everything that happened but it made my head pound, so I stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

"How did Deli and 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! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them— but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!" before leaving the hospital wing.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came in to check up on me. She was a nice woman, but very strict.

"Just five minutes," I pleaded.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in..."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey..."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let Ron and Hermione in.

"Harry!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around me again, but I was glad she held herself in as my head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to— Dumbledore was so worried—"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?" he asked, sadly eyeing Delilah.

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. I told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Even how Delilah stayed behind and saved my life. It made the entire school respect her even more than they already did.

Before I made my way down to the end-of-year feast I visited the Hospital Wing where Delilah still slept. Atlas by her side not moving, I went and petted his head as he whimpered. I didn't know if she could hear me when I said 'thank you' or 'I love you', but I felt like I might never get another chance.

Back to Delilah's P.O.V.

It was so dark here.

I didn't even know where here was, but it was dark— so dark, that I couldn't see. Nothing seemed real. That made it hard not to give up. I kept pushing against the black, though, almost a reflex. I wasn't trying to lift it. I was just resisting. Not allowing it to crush me completely.

I wasn't Atlas— the actual Greek God, not my phoenix— and the black felt as heavy as a planet; I couldn't shoulder it. All I could do was not be entirely obliterated. It was sort of the pattern to my life—I'd never been strong enough to deal with the things outside my control, to attack the enemies or outrun them. To avoid the pain. Always like a human and weak, the only thing I'd ever been able to do was keep going.

Endure. Survive.

It had been enough up to this point. It would have to be enough today. I would endure this until help came. I knew my mom and dad would be wanting me to do everything I can. They would not want me to give up. Neither would I. I held the blackness of nonexistence at bay by inches.

It wasn't enough, though— that determination. As the time ground on and on and the darkness gained by tiny eighths and sixteenths of my inches, I needed something more to draw strength from.

Nothing.

It terrified me, and I wondered if it was too late. I felt myself slipping—there was nothing to hold on to.

No! I had to survive this. Harry was depending on me. Ron, Hermione, grandpa D., Miss Kathie...

That spot of heat in my phantom hands felt so real. I clutched it closer. It was exactly where my heart should be. Holding tight the warm memory of every embrace I've shared with my friends, I knew that I would be able to fight the darkness as long as I needed to.

The warmth beside my heart got more and more real, warmer and warmer. Hotter. The heat was so real it was hard to believe that I was imagining it.

Hotter.

Uncomfortable now. Too hot. Much, much too hot.

Like grabbing the wrong end of a curling iron—my automatic response was to drop the scorching thing in my arms. But there was nothing in my arms. My arms were not curled to my chest. My arms were dead things lying somewhere at my side. The heat was inside me.

The burning grew—rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything I'd ever felt.

I felt the pulse behind the fire raging now in my chest and realized that I'd found my heart again, just in time to wish I never had. To wish that I'd embraced the blackness while I'd still had the chance. I wanted to raise my arms and claw my chest open and rip the heart from it— anything to get rid of this torture. But I couldn't feel my arms, couldn't move one vanished finger. I knew what was happening.

I was phasing into my new true animal. It was now going to be three out of seven. Why seven? I never knew... but just a little more of the pain... and I would be, again.

The endless burn raged on.

It could have been seconds or days, weeks or years, but, eventually, time came to mean something again.

Two things happened together, grew from each other so that I didn't know which came first: time restarted, and I got stronger.

I could feel the control of my body come back to me in increments, and those increments were my first markers of the time passing. I knew it when I was able to twitch my toes and twist my fingers into fists. I knew it, but I did not act on it.

Though the fire did not decrease one tiny degree— in fact, I began to develop a new capacity for experiencing it, a new sensitivity to appreciate, separately, each blistering tongue of flame that licked through my veins— I discovered that I could think around it.

I could remember why I shouldn't scream. It was that bad habit of being silent.

Mute by choice.

This happened just in time for me to hold on when the weights left my body. To anyone watching me, there would be no change. But for me, as I struggled to keep the screams and thrashing locked up inside my body, where they couldn't hurt anyone else, it felt like I'd gone from being tied to the stake as I burned, to gripping that stake to hold myself in the fire.

I had just enough strength to lie there unmoving while I was charred alive.

My hearing got clearer and clearer, and I could count the frantic, pounding beats of my heart to mark the time.

I could count the shallow breaths that gasped through my teeth.

I could count the low, even breaths that came from somewhere close beside me. These moved slowest, so I concentrated on them. They meant the most time passing. More even than a clock's pendulum, those breaths pulled me through the burning seconds toward the end. I continued to get stronger, my thoughts clearer. When new noises came, I could listen.

There were light footsteps, the whisper of air stirred by an opening door. The footsteps got closer, and I felt pressure against the inside of my wrist. I couldn't feel the coolness of the fingers. The fire blistered away every memory of cool.

I considered talking for a moment, and then the fire ripped hotter still through my chest, draining in from my elbows and knees. Better not to chance it.

And then—oh!

My heart took off, beating like helicopter blades, the sound almost a single sustained note; it felt like it would grind through my ribs. The fire flared up in the center of my chest, sucking the last remnants of the flames from the rest of my body to fuel the most scorching blaze yet. The pain was enough to stun me, to break through my iron grip on the stake. My back arched, bowed as if the fire was dragging me upward by my heart.

I allowed no other piece of my body to break rank as my torso slumped back to the bed.

It became a battle inside me— my sprinting heart racing against the attacking fire. Both were losing. The fire was doomed, having consumed everything that was combustible; my heart galloped toward its last beat.

The fire constricted, concentrating inside that one remaining human organ with a final, unbearable surge. The surge was answered by a deep, hollow-sounding thud. My heart stuttered twice, and then thudded quietly again just once more...

I heard squawking. It was a happy squawk.

"What is it, Atlas?" I heard a distant voice say before it was followed by a gasp.

Crack.

My eyes snapped open only to stare back at more blackness as the burning heat warmed up soothingly. I felt myself being surrounded by a golden aura. I blinked and I found my eyes. I could see the light, now. Not what I was looking for, but better than nothing.

But then— oh!

CRACK!

I arched my back and let out a... roar... not a scream, but a roar of a lion. Like a ray of sun, a golden glow left my body floating upwards creating a roaring lion image, before it seemed to soak into my mouth.

I was constantly panting as I looked over at Madam Pomfrey who had tears brimming in her eyes. She let out a cry of happiness before engulfing me in a warm hug, as I chuckled slightly, but it came out like some sort of chocking growl. Frowning, I looked down at myself and felt my eyes widen in shock as I stared back at huge golden paws.

My third soul animal was a lion.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, imagining myself back into my human self. I felt myself shrink until I was back at my rightful size. Madam Pomfrey helped me off the bed, as I was surprised by my remarkable strength, I knew something felt wrong.

I waited till Madame Pomfrey was gone before I started inspecting myself. I had a new scar— much like the one on my neck, except this one is on my right shoulder. I slowly took off the hospital gown and slipped on my Gryffindor robes before making my way towards the Great Hall. Everyone was looking up the front that no one noticed me standing against the door. I glanced around at the room slightly disappointed.

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.

"Ahem," grandpa D. said. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes... First— to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

I smiled slightly, happily standing where I was as Snape, McGonagall and Hagrid glanced in my direction, their eyes gleaming as I tried hard not to smirk.

"... 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. At last there was silence again.

"Second— to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points. Third— to Mr. Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points— exactly the same as Slytherin. Grandpa D. raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," he said, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom. Finally, I would like to award Miss Delilah Hawkins, for exceptional bravery and saving others before herself seventy points."

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 Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him. I couldn't help but chuckle, smiling a small smile and clapping softly from where I stood against the door.

"Which means" grandpa D. called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile.

It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

"Gryffindor wins the House Cup" I smiled, chuckling; the energy was contagious. I caught eyes with grandpa D.; he straightened giving me a warm, congratulating smile. I smiled back as I pushed myself backwards against the wood and started walking my way towards the common room. I stopped myself short and thought it would be better to wait for my... friends.

It feels good to say that.

Friends.

I nearly gave up the waiting out of impatience, when I heard voices up ahead.

"I wish we could find her!" Harry sighed.

"She can't have gone far! Madame Pomfrey was fuming at her leave from the Hospital, but she is smart... and very silent, she is probably around and we simply can't find her because she is being her quiet self," Hermione insisted.

"Looking for someone!" I asked out loud. I had sneakily made my way back around the corner so they couldn't see me and I was just a mystery voice in the shadows. I leaned against the brick wall and folded my arms over my chest, waiting patiently.

"Deli?" they asked nervously. Harry came to investigate. He rounded the corner that I was in and stopped dead on his tracks the moment he saw me casually leaning against the wall with my arms still folded over my chest.

"You're alive!" he cried out as he ran over and hugged me making me take step back surprised. I still wasn't used to this kind of interaction with people. My eyes had widened even more as soon I was engulfed in a major group hug.

"Please, get off me!" I pleaded in a small voice, slightly panicking, but then sighed as soon everyone let go, chuckling.

"Still the same old Lee-lee," Fred teased kissing my cheek as George kiss the other, making me blush and look down.

"Lilly?" Harry asked as I was about to make a run for it. I stopped glancing back at him. He surprised again by giving me another big hug.

"Thank you for saving my life," he whispered before pressing his soft warm lips to mine. It was brief, but very sweet and it somehow made my insides jump uncontrollably. He pulled away and smiled as I gave a small nod and smile before we both went to join the others in the great hall. As soon as we entered the big doors, everyone gathered around us to congratulate us. It was funny the way I shocked people by smiling a bit instead of just nodding as usual. I was still my mute self again, but my mute self with a smile. Only Harry, Hermione, Ron and the Weasleys twins knew I spoke... and Malfoy, though I have no intention in speaking to him again. Neville forgot he ever heard me speak.

It was the best evening of my life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls... I would never, ever forget tonight.

I had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. I wasn't surprised to see I had passed all o my classes with the best marks. Unlike Harry and Ron who were completely shocked, both of them passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, also had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. We had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, our 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 use magic over the holidays

"I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly; Hagrid was there to take us down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; we were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing— me, sitting quietly— as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans— me, only eating one licorice wand like the first day— as we sped past Muggle towns; pulling off our 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 us all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting us go through the gate in twos and threes so we didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

Thinking about how eventful the year had been, I sighed as a feeling I never thought I would ever feel again, engulfed me. Happiness.

I was happy.

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

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to." People jostled us as we moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called: "Bye, Harry!" or "Bye, Delilah!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Hope to see you around, Hawkins."

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

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry as I nodded in agreement. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I passed through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mom, there he is, look!" I head someone call. I looked up and saw a little redheaded girl who looked a lot like a Weasley, jumping up in down in excitement. I'm guessing she is Ron's little sister nice she looks a bit like him— they have the same hair and freckles.

She wasn't pointing at Ron. "Harry Potter!" she squealed before frowning. "Where is Delilah Hawkins? Mom! I want to see—"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point." Mrs. Weasley smiled down at us. "Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley." I nodded in agreement.

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?" A purple-faced, mustached, furious looking man asked Harry. I'm upswing it's his uncle. Behind him stood Harry's Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley. I smiled at them then grimaced when Harry's cousin winked at me. I looked at Harry with a 'is he serious?' look.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon.

"Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away. Harry hung back for a last word with Ron, Hermione and I.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have— er— a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, I will," said Harry, and we were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."

I chuckled, smiling and shook my head. I shocked the lives out them as I pulled all three of them into a group hug and thought to them, "See you next fall."