X

XIX

XIXIX "A Necessary Step to Moving On" XIXIX

Harry opened his tired eyes, wincing as the blinding white light of the infirmary pierced them through. The only color he was immediately aware of was a fiery red at the base of his field of vision. It was Ginny, her head tucked beneath his chin, holding him tightly in a protective embrace. Even in sleep she guarded over him as he did for her. But Harry knew she was awake now. He squeezed her tight, wondering what day it was, why they were in the infirmary, why they were in the same bed…

And then it all came back to him.

In a flood, the memories of the battle washed over him. Percy and the Death Eaters attacking Ginny, Ron, and Hermione… Ginny being tortured… The rescue mission… The Dark creatures… The spiders… The Death Eaters… Neville killing Bellatrix LeStrange… Wormtail committing suicide… Harry possessing a Dementor… Sucking out Voldemort's soul… Casting Avada Kedavra… Crawling back to Ginny… Trying to contact Severus…

"Oh Merlin, no!" sobbed Harry, shaking as he remembered his loss. Ginny clutched him closer, but he was struggling, flailing against the memories. There was a stirring nearby, and Harry was aware of light blond hair leaning over him.

"Potter?"

Malfoy was grabbing at him, trying to calm his thrashing, but Harry was wild. He was fighting against the memories, fighting against the loss of his bondmate, fighting against grief. But his hands swished through these things like air, leaving them firmly intact. All he could really fight against were Malfoy and Ginny.

He pushed at them, trying to get a hold of reality so he could tear it apart.

Ginny was trying to soothe him through their bond, but she was half-wild herself, partially from Harry's grief at the memories, partially from her own. Her brother had nearly killed her, and although she didn't know how it happened, she was pretty sure that he was dead.

Malfoy grabbed Harry's arms, and pleaded anxiously, "Harry, stop! Calm down. It's over. It's over."

Harry reached out and caught Malfoy's shoulders in a death grip. His eyes were huge, aimed at Malfoy's eyes, but barely seeing him.

"Severus!" he shouted. "Where is he? Is he d—?" and Harry couldn't bring himself to finish the question. Ginny was holding him tightly, tears streaming out of her closed eyes. It was too much, too soon after waking. The emotions they felt were overwhelming.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and said, "He's in class!" Irritation was evident in his voice. "He's fine. He's teaching right now."

And Harry finally stopped struggling. Malfoy's words stopped the flood altogether. Even Ginny's emotions paused in their torrential downpour, and she looked up, blinking her eyes free of tears. Harry eyed Malfoy as though seeing him for the first time. His hair was all messed up and his eyes were heavy-lidded. He looked like he had just woken up himself.

"Malfoy?" he whimpered, distrusting his recognition.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Malfoy. The annoyance in his voice softened as he looked down into Harry's unsteady gaze.

"He's okay?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," he whispered. "He's fine."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to open his link to Severus. It opened back to him immediately and Harry felt a huge rush of relief from both ends of their bond.

'You're alive,' thought Harry.

'You're awake,' thought Severus at the same time. 'I'll be there as soon as class is over.'

And Harry laughed out loud. He opened his eyes and Malfoy was right in front of him and he was alive and he was there, and Harry felt like his heart might explode. He turned to Ginny and she was well—her body was recovered. She was no longer that unrecognizable mess of blood and pain that she had been on the battlefield. They were together and their bond was open. And Ginny grinned her huge Weasley grin, because her twin had saved her against all impossibilities, and now it was over.

A surge of hysterical joy to match their previously overwhelming grief tore through them both. Ginny bounced up onto her knees, looking like she was about to break out into song.

"Harry!" she shouted. "You did it! We made it!"

Harry let go of Malfoy's shoulders and grabbed his head instead, running his fingers through his messy blonde hair, touching his face, letting the reality of it soak into him. He kissed him hard, smashing their noses together and ignoring the pain that that caused.

"We're all alive," he laughed, and Ginny was laughing too. Harry was bouncing, clutching at Malfoy's shoulders and hands and face, absolutely ecstatic. Malfoy smiled. How could he not?

"We're alive," repeated Harry, "And Voldemort is really dead, isn't he?"

"You did it, Potter," said Malfoy quietly, nodding.

But Harry kept laughing. Ginny shrieked from the happiness surging through them, and Harry screamed, "WE'RE ALIVE!"

He seized Malfoy's robes and pulled him into the bed with him and Ginny and they laughed and wrestled and celebrated the joy of having made it through. They were alive and there was no better feeling on Earth than that.

Caught up in the tangled mess of Harry and Ginny, Malfoy laughed as well, but much less so than the twins. He had been awake for the previous four and a half weeks. He knew everything that had happened.

Madam Pomfrey rushed in and yelled at them to stop, but it was some time before Harry and Ginny could calm their joviality enough for her to examine them and force them to eat. They kicked their legs over the side of the bed and Harry and Ginny enjoyed the best tasting meal of their entire lives. Malfoy sat next to Harry with his head on his shoulder and his arm around his waist, and Harry kissed his hair in between bites, and looked over fondly at the next bed, which was well slept-in. Malfoy had apparently spent a lot of time in the infirmary waiting for Harry to wake up.

Dumbledore came in after they had finished eating, and conjured a huge, squashy chair to sit in. Harry tangled himself back together with Ginny, and Malfoy sat calmly beside him on the edge of the bed. The twins were mostly healed, but they still had time left before their energy would be fully restored. The contact between them seemed to help, which was why Madam Pomfrey had placed them in the same bed to begin with.

"How are you feeling?" asked Dumbledore.

"Tired," said Harry honestly.

"But good," said Ginny.

"I'm glad for that," said Dumbledore. "We were very worried about the two of you. Nobody knew if you were going to wake up."

"How long has it been?" asked Ginny, and she and Harry settled into a more serious mood, realizing there were certain truths they were going to learn that were not going to be easy.

"Thirty-two days," said Dumbledore.

Harry nodded. "That's a long time," he said.

Dumbledore agreed. "You gave us quite a scare. Between the damage you sustained," he said to Ginny, "And the magic you expended," he nodded to Harry, "We were afraid for some time that we had lost you both."

"Professor," began Harry, remembering back to his experience of magical shock, "Am I… I mean, do I—?"

"Madam Pomfrey assures me now that the both of you will recovery fully, powers and all." And Harry felt a bit of relief, but only enough to realize that the loss of his power was not what he was actually worried about after all. Other losses would be much worse.

"Sir," said Ginny, shifting her position, "My family…?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I'm afraid Percy is dead," he said.

"Good," said Ginny immediately, and Harry's cold eyes were daring Dumbledore to say anything against his twin.

"The rest of your family is alive," said the headmaster instead. "I expect you will be seeing them shortly."

Ginny sighed in relief, and Harry said, "What about Hermione and Neville?"

"Alive as well. Harry…"

"Nicolas and Perenelle. And Remus?"

Dumbledore nodded again. "Harry, Ginny. Now may not be the best time to go through the list of casualties. There will be plenty of time…"

"Were there a lot?" asked Ginny.

Dumbledore was quiet for several moments. "Yes," he said, "There were. The wizarding world has a tough road of recovery ahead." He glanced to Malfoy, who looked away. "But the important thing now is that you regain your strength."

Harry felt his heart lift slightly and he looked to the door. A moment later, in walked Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. They rushed forward to Harry and Ginny's bed. Malfoy slipped off the edge and stood nearby, like and outsider looking in. The Flamels lavished Harry and Ginny with hugs and kisses. Perenelle sat on the side of the bed, leaning over with her arm around Harry, holding him close.

Harry, though glad to see them, was concerned by their appearances. They looked much older—elderly ever. They seemed to have aged several decades since he last saw them. Their faces were wrinkled and their hair was graying. They had lost the youthful appearance they had gained from using the Sorcerer's Stone.

"Perenelle," said Harry softly, touching her hair with a small frown.

"It's okay, Harry," she smiled quietly. "We used a lot of our life-magic to heal people on the battlefield. It's one of the gifts we have, thanks to drinking the Elixir of Life for so long."

Harry felt tears welling up in him, thinking of their unending generosity. "You gave some of your life…" he began.

Nicolas nodded, but waved him off. "We've had plenty," he said with a friendly smile. "Others needed it more."

Harry reached up to his chest and realized he was still wearing the locket they gave him. He rubbed it between his fingers and looked between them before opening his mouth to speak, "It saved my life, you know."

"Good," said Perenelle, planting a kiss firmly on his forehead. "We hoped it would come in handy."

Harry opened his mouth, but the door opened again, and in strode Severus Snape, tall and strong and… very nearly smiling. When he saw Nicolas and Perenelle, he paused his step and bowed to them very deeply.

"Oh, do get up, Severus!" snapped Nicolas with a blush rising to his cheeks.

Perenelle hopped off the bed and bounced over to give Severus a strong hug. "Good to see you, Sev," she murmured.

"I hadn't heard you had returned," he replied.

"We had a feeling Harry might wake up today," said Perenelle with a wink. Then she gasped and reached up to touch Severus' hair. "Oh! You used the tonic!" she squealed.

Severus bowed his head, "Only for you, my Lady Perenelle." He looked up to Harry and the two wizards held eye contact for a moment. Then Severus walked over and clamped his hand firmly on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're awake, Harry," he said intensely.

"I'm glad you're alive," replied Harry with just as much emotion before he pulled Severus toward him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," he whispered.

XIXIX

Eventually Madam Pomfrey rushed the visitors out—everyone except Malfoy. She made no move to even attempt to get him to leave. Malfoy didn't speak much, but he stayed by Harry's side as the twins drifted in and out of sleep. At dinnertime, Ron and Hermione came in to see them, and Malfoy slipped out without a word. Dobby came in with dinner trays, and the four talked while they ate.

"You were right, Hermione," said Harry, "About the prophecies. Your visions were real. It was how I figured out what to do in the end."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm just glad you're alive," she said. She didn't ask what exactly Harry had figured out. She didn't ask what exactly Harry had done in the end in order to vanquish Voldemort. Nobody did, but that was just fine with Harry. It was hard to think about, and he certainly wasn't ready to speak about it.

They were silent for a few moments. Then, Ginny asked, "How is the rest of the school?"

Ron looked up from his plate. "Smaller," he said. His eyes were dark. They didn't look like his eyes anymore. A thick sadness seemed to hang over him. "Classes started up again about a week after the attack," he said. "But nobody really takes them seriously."

Hermione looked like she was going to protest, but then she gave up since Ron was only speaking the truth.

"The teachers are really taking it easy," Ron continued. "Even Snape, if you can imagine it. It's like school is just this way to pick up and keep going. But really, everything is far too messed up right now for anything much to get back to normal."

"Everything seems muted," agreed Hermione solemnly. "People are trying to hard to put the pieces back together, but nobody is ready to push anything."

"What about outside the school?" asked Harry.

Hermione shook her head. "It's kind of bad. They're trying to round up the last of the Death Eaters. They're having trials with veritaserum for just about everyone. Dumbledore was able to put Snape's trial off until summer. He wanted things to die down a bit first. I think he was afraid they'd make Snape a sacrificial lamb."

"Which is total bullshit," said Ron darkly, and Harry was surprised at the feeling behind the sentiment.

"Harry," began Hermione gently, "You should know about Malfoy. He's not really talking much to anybody, but um…"

She dropped her voice, looking down, and Harry saw she was fidgeting with her fingers. "What is it, 'Mione?" he asked worriedly.

"Well, his mother has been given a life sentence in Azkaban. And his father…" She looked over to Ron, who did not meet her eye. She dropped her voice further, until it was barely a whisper. "Harry, he killed his father on the battlefield in order to save Snape."

Harry breathed deeply. Poor Draco. No wonder he had seemed so 'off' all day.

"But it almost didn't matter," said Ron. "Snape nearly died anyway. The Flamels brought him back. Gave him some of their life, apparently." Harry nodded.

"There's more," said Hermione. "Malfoy's been acting kind of crazy since the battle. He'll skip classes to spend long hours in the infirmary, watching over you like he's guarding you, but then he'll go off…" she looked away. "Harry, he's slept with at least a dozen people—"

"I don't care," he said quickly, and he didn't. He knew that whatever Malfoy was doing, he was just trying to cope. It's not like Harry had exactly been there for him for the past month.

Hermione nodded. "I just thought you should know."

"Thanks," said Harry quietly, and he meant it.

XIXIX

Over the next few days, Harry and Ginny had a lot of guests in the infirmary. The Weasleys all came in. Molly and Arthur were caught somewhere between yelling at Harry and Ginny for undergoing such a dangerous bond at such a dangerous time, and welcoming Harry to the family and insisting that he stay the summer with them at the Burrow. Molly brought in mounds of food—home cooking guaranteed to build up their strength. Bill and Charlie came in together, and Harry could see the grief that Charlie was supporting Bill through. Fred and George were only slightly less boisterous than usual, but did manage to keep Harry and Ginny laughing through most of their visit. They thought it was simply brilliant that there was a new set of twins in the family.

Lupin came in looking tired and worn, but so incredibly relieved that Harry and Ginny had woken up and were okay. He told Harry repeatedly how proud his parents would have been, how proud he was, and insisted that Harry stay at Grimmauld Place with him over the summer. It was technically Harry's house, inherited from Sirius, but Harry wasn't sure he wanted it. Lupin had been living there for most of the last two years, and they had an agreement that he would continue to take care of the place at least until Harry graduated. They would work out the rest later… there was plenty of time.

Malfoy was in the infirmary with them too, almost the entire time. He'd slip in and out while Harry was sleeping, so that Harry never saw him either come or go except for the first time Ron and Hermione came by. Every other time they visited, he stayed on, but he didn't say much of anything, not that he was saying much of anything anyway. Harry decided that during their first visit, Malfoy had wanted to give Harry's best friends a chance to tell him what Malfoy had been doing. Or maybe he had just wanted to give them a chance to visit alone. Whatever the reason, he didn't shy away again. And for that, Harry was quietly pleased.

It seemed as though more than half the school came in to visit, coming in twos and threes, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying, but always saying they were glad that Harry and Ginny had recovered. Everyone seemed to have been greatly affected by the battle. Harry could see it in their eyes—a sort of wisdom, or maturity, or understanding of pain, that had previously been lacking. The carefree innocence of youth was gone.

But if Harry was overwhelmed by that, it was nothing to the shock of returning to school one week later.

Walking the halls, going to classes, and eating in the Great Hall, Harry and Ginny quickly realized that nearly the entire school had visited them in the infirmary—or, what was left of the school. The death toll had been immense. There were only twelve seventh years left to graduate this year. Cho was not one of them, Harry noticed, surprised to discover he was truly sad about it despite the fact that he hadn't even spoken to her at all through the year.

Grief hung heavy in the halls, but with it, the students latched on determinedly to a feeling of accomplished victory. They had held the school safe until reinforcements arrived. The final battle in the war against You-Know-Who had happened at Hogwarts, and Hogwarts had won.

But Ron and Hermione had been right. School was mainly a formality for the rest of the year. It was a necessary step to moving on. The coursework was light, but persistent. And so life continued, in imitation of itself.

His dorm room seemed a lot quieter, despite Neville's continued snoring. Dean and Seamus' parents had both come to retrieve their things while Harry had been unconscious. Harry had missed all of the funeral services. Gryffindor had lost a lot of students. Its population was down by half. There had even been a number of first and second year casualties, since a bunch of them had joined the DA. And they had bravely entered the battlefield just like they had practiced in order to help wounded students into the infirmary.

Harry thought back often to those few moments in the infirmary when he had felt true joy just at the thought of being alive. The sadness that permeated the school was so complete that it gave life a sort of hollow quality that reminded Harry of possessing the Dementor. He needed that memory of the joy sometimes just to make it through the day.

It seemed sometimes that everyone was withdrawing into themselves, but there wasn't much else to be expected. A war like that was bound to change people. Life was just going to be hard for a while.

Psycho-magicians came in regularly to talk to the students, to help them work through their feelings of loss, but Harry never went to speak to them. He didn't think there were too many people out there who could understand what he had gone through. Whenever they came, he would instead go down to the dungeons to spend time with Severus. They didn't really speak, or do anything in particular. Harry just liked being near someone who knew how he felt.

Severus never asked anything of him, never offered advice or a shoulder to cry on. He was just there for Harry, working in silence when Harry simply didn't want to be alone, and talking about potions and other neutral topics when the silence became oppressive and Harry needed to hear the sound of someone's voice to pull him out of the dreadful sludge of his memory of being a Dementor.

Severus never pressed him to sieve out the memories. Harry didn't think he would be able to leave any of it behind. He seemed to need it—every bit of it. He needed to be able to hold onto every day of Severus' life, even the incongruous love for his parents and hatred of the Marauders. He needed to keep the pieces of Voldemort he had retained during the time when Legilimency turned into possession. He even needed the horror of being the Dementor, just to remember what he had done.

The memories hurt him terribly sometimes, but Harry couldn't justify being without them. He couldn't bring himself to let any of them go. They were so much a part of his experiences now that removing even a single one would be a betrayal of sorts; he would be lying to himself about who he had become. They were shaping him, had shaped him, and would continue to shape him into a man with an uncertain and difficult past, but a wide-open future.

Harry spent a lot of time with Malfoy, walking around in silence, making love often. They never spoke about anything of consequence. They just weren't ready for that. Malfoy never spoke about the battle, his parents, his past, or his future. When he talked it was about the present day—things that had happened a few minutes ago, what he was planning to do in a few minutes' time, and how the lake or the clouds or a random stone in the wall looked to him right now. He noticed insignificant things, but spoke of them as though they were of great consequence. Harry lay underneath the beech tree with him one afternoon with his eyes closed, listening to Malfoy speak for fifteen minutes about a single blade of grass. It was the only thing Malfoy said out loud that entire day.

Ron was having a hard time too. He would disappear for long periods of time and nobody would know where he had gone or when he would be back. He seemed to distance himself from everybody, Hermione too. Harry had asked Hagrid once if Ron was going to his cabin during the times he disappeared, but Hagrid said it was only sometimes, and only when Hagrid didn't try to speak to him.

Hermione passed her time outside of class in the library, or in Trelawney's tower. She spent a lot of time with Luna since Crabbe was in Azkaban. He was serving a short sentence, thanks to Luna's testimony and Crabbe's, both under veritaserum. He would be out at the end of the summer, in time to come back to Hogwarts and re-sit his sixth year. Hermione and Luna shared their love of books with each other. They retreated into their world of the written word.

The only one Harry really spoke to, was Ginny. They shared all of their thoughts anyway. Ginny could help Harry feel real again, feel normal. They'd go flying sometimes, or swimming, and sometimes Harry would laugh. And they'd share thoughts sometimes, communicating silently, and sometimes Harry would cry.

Ginny's persistent strength really showed through during this time. She pulled herself together in a way that no one else seemed willing, or able to do. The remaining members of the DA clung to her—coming to her for therapy almost as much as they went to the psycho-magicians. She made people believe that life could go on, even after everything. And slowly, life did. Harry was really impressed with his twin, doing what she did for everybody. Because he sure as hell couldn't.

Exam time came and Hermione tried to rally up an enthusiasm to study amongst her friends, even though the exams would doubtfully be that difficult. Harry humored her, diving into his books even though he didn't need to study at all. He had Severus' memories, and all of the knowledge that came with them. Ginny tackled her books as well, but Ron couldn't be bothered to even pretend to study. Hermione would always look at him with large worried eyes, but that only seemed to drive him farther away. Harry wanted to tell her that he would come around, but he wasn't sure he believed it himself so he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.

XIXIX

After exams ended, Harry dressed Malfoy in some of his nicer muggle clothes. Malfoy let him, even though the clothes weren't really up to Malfoy standard. But Harry had a feeling that no muggle clothing would be, so he decided not to worry about it. At least they weren't as shabby as the old hand-me-downs that he used to wear.

The two wizards walked hand in hand to the edge of Hogwarts grounds, and Harry held out his wand. With a loud pop! the Knight Bus appeared. Malfoy looked at Harry uncertainly, but Harry urged him on. They boarded and the bus disappeared. Hand in hand still, they sat in huge comfy chairs that slid back and forth in a jarring manner. The bus was nearly empty, so it didn't take too long for them to arrive in Little Whinging.

Harry felt strange being back in the area, but he needed to do this. They walked the streets, avoiding Privet Dr., which Harry never wanted to see again. Instead, they walked to a nearby cemetery and strolled up and down the rows of headstones until they found the Dursleys'.

Their graves were covered, absolutely covered, with every type of flower imaginable. Harry realized that the flowers were all charmed with magic to make them last indefinitely. No doubt, some of his fans had taken it upon themselves to pay their respects to the family of You-Know-Who's defeater. He let out a dark laugh.

Malfoy looked at him, startled.

Harry motioned to the flowers in explanation. "They hated magic," he said. "They hated the wizarding world, and they hated me. And now the Golden Boy's fans will forever visit their graves and leave them magical flowers." He laughed again, shaking his head, but it didn't sound like much of a laugh at all.

Malfoy put his arm around Harry's waist. "Do you miss them?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "There's a lot I haven't told you," he said. "I mean, I know I told you some of it that day in detention with the veritaserum, but…"

"Wait, I thought you said you lied that day," cut in Malfoy.

"I just lied about not caring about you."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes slightly. "You mean—they really did lock you in a cupboard?"

Harry nodded.

"Like, a cupboard cupboard—not like you're exaggerating and you just had a small bedroom?"

"The cupboard under the stairs was my bedroom," said Harry, wanting to match Malfoy's outrage at the idea, but finding himself unable. It just felt like another part of him, a small piece of the jigsaw puzzle that was Harry Potter. The cupboard had been his, his sanctuary, his refuge from life, from the Dursleys, and when the need arose, from himself as well. There was nothing to feel about it, really.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in disbelief and then gave the graves an extremely unimpressed look.

"I want to tell you now," said Harry suddenly, as if finally having come to a decision that he had previously been unable to make. "I want to tell you everything."

Malfoy nodded, and Harry began to speak. He told him all about his life with the Dursleys. He told him about what it was like to find out he was a wizard, and then what it was like to find out he was the Boy-Who-Lived. He told him about the night that he lost his godfather, and he told him about the night he first contacted Sirius, and how he had had the vision and then saved Severus' life. He told him about the potion to help his bond with Voldemort, and about the Legilimency lessons, and how he had accidentally bonded with Severus. He told him about the possession, and how he had been unconscious during those two weeks when everyone thought he was in hiding, and how he and Ginny completed their twin bond when Ginny brought him back from the dead.

He told Malfoy—speaking it aloud for the first time since it happened—about the final battle against Voldemort, and what exactly happened.

"You possessed a Dementor!" shot Malfoy, his voice unnaturally high, his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. It was the most emotion than he had shown since before the battle.

"Yeah," said Harry, trying not to remember it.

"Merlin's fucking beard, Harry! That's impossible!" When Harry shrugged, Malfoy continued, "No, I don't mean that it's just never been documented before. I mean that there was an entire field of study at one time about how and why humans could not do mental magic on magical creatures!"

"But I did Legilemency on Firenze in class one day," argued Harry without concern. "He didn't seem too surprised about it."

"You did Leg…" Malfoy trailed off, gaping at him. He shook his head, sighing, "un-fucking-believable."

"Anyway," Harry quickly waved the issue aside, not willing to linger on that topic longer than was necessary. "After that I didn't have very much strength left. I'm surprised I was able to cast the Killing Curse on him."

Malfoy nodded soberly. "So you did use an Unforgivable."

"Yeah."

"Did it hurt?"

"No."

Malfoy was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "It hurt me."

Harry looked at him for a few seconds before he realized Malfoy was talking about when he killed his father. It was the first he had spoken of any topic even distantly related to that event.

They didn't speak again for a long time. Eventually, Malfoy began to shudder and Harry held him close. Malfoy buried his face in Harry's neck so that Harry couldn't see him cry, but Harry felt his shirt growing damp, and then he was crying too. Holding on tight, they finally began to let go.

After awhile, Harry found himself whispering, "It's okay."

Malfoy shook his head, not looking up. "No it's not," he said. "It's just over."

XIXIX

After they returned from the cemetery, Harry went to Dumbledore to ask him about his ability to do mental magic on magical creatures. He told him about doing Legilimency on Firenze in class while he was still training, and he told him about possessing the Dementor in order to give Voldemort the Dementor's kiss.

Dumbledore did not seem to be surprised when Harry revealed the details of how he destroyed Lord Voldemort. Instead, he began talking about Harry's fifth year, when Harry had the vision inside the snake that attacked Mr. Weasley.

"It is well documented that wizards cannot do mental magic on magical creatures," said Dumbledore, "But Voldemort had very clearly been able to possess this snake, and then you had a vision not only through Voldemort, but through the snake as well."

Harry shook his head. "But right before I…" Harry paused, needing to distance himself from the memory. "Right before the Dementor's Kiss, he said it wasn't possible to possess magical creatures. If he could do it, why would he be surprised that I could?"

"Harry," said Dumbledore slowly, "Voldemort had been experimenting on himself for decades before he first attacked you, before he transferred some of his power to you. We were able to surmise after Arthur Weasley's attack that one of his experiments had been to join with one of the magical snake species."

"When you say 'join'," began Harry tentatively, wondering briefly if Dumbledore was alluding to some strange sexual ritual.

"I mean he spliced himself with a snake so that he, himself, became part snake."

Harry took a moment to let this sink in. First his mind swirled with uncertainties about the impossibility of such bizarre magic, but then a thought came to Harry's mind that he found to be morbidly humorous. "You mean to tell me," he said, "That not only was Voldemort not a pure-blooded wizard, but he wasn't even a pure-blooded human!"

Dumbledore furrowed his brow. "I hadn't thought of it along those lines," he mused.

"Why would he even do something like that?" asked Harry.

"Snakes are cold-blooded," reasoned Dumbledore, "So having the two opposing natures would strengthen him with complexity, making him harder to kill. Several of the magical species of snake can live for many hundreds, or even thousands, of years—basilisks, for instance. Plus, the spirit essences of magical creatures are interwoven with the spirit essence of the world, which means that when they die, their souls do not leave the Earth to move on to the afterlife."

Harry was rubbing his fingers through his hair, staring off into space. "So… Voldemort was part snake then, which meant that he could possess snakes. What does that have to do with me being able to do… whatever it is I can do?"

"Voldemort transferred some of his power to you when he attacked you as a baby," Dumbledore replied by way of a simple answer.

"So I'm part snake?" asked Harry sarcastically.

"Only magically speaking."

Harry stared at Dumbledore through half-lidded eyes. "And that's why I can do mental magic on non-human creatures."

"We believe so, yes."

Harry shook his head. "But that means that Voldemort could too," he said, still unable to make sense out of this new information. "But he couldn't—he could only possess snakes."

"No," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort couldn't possess other creatures because he knew that it was impossible, so he never tried. But nobody ever bothered to tell you that it was impossible. You decided to figure it out on your own. So you experimented on Firenze and didn't think to question your findings."

Harry scoffed. "So you're telling me that if Severus had told me one day during lessons that it was impossible to do Legilimency on magical creatures so don't bother trying, that we might not be here right now because Voldemort might have won the war?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and smiled pleasantly. "I'm telling you that sometimes experience is a greater teacher than knowledge alone."

Harry put his head in his hands, annoyed suddenly that Dumbledore was getting all sage-like when Harry was trying to deal with this one extra link he had to Voldemort, further separating himself from the rest of the wizarding community. The implications were dizzying. If Voldemort had known he could do that magic, or if Harry had 'known' that he couldn't…

"Wait a minute," said Harry slowly.

He was thinking back to questions he had asked Dumbledore about the Department of Mysteries. He had asked if they might know a way to destroy Voldemort, but had not gotten any answers. At first Dumbledore had told him that they were 'looking into it', and Harry remembered that he had later gotten the distinct feeling that the Headmaster was not telling him everything.

He looked up with narrowed, almost accusing eyes. "How long have you known this about me?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "We didn't know. We have suspected it of you since Arthur's attack."

"We? Who we?" Harry was feeling his anger rise. "The Department of Mysteries?"

Dumbledore nodded once, and the pieces fell together in Harry's brain, and Harry felt his fury well up within him.

"They had found a way to kill Voldemort, body and soul! You knew! You knew what I was going to have to do!" Harry's voice was rising and he was sitting forward in his seat, feeling ready to jump up and destroy the office once again.

"Harry," said Dumbledore softly, "Could you have done it if you had known beforehand?"

And Harry's anger froze. He thought about the Dementor, his biggest fear. He thought about his third year when he had almost lost his soul to the Kiss. He thought about all the near misses he had had this year, the times he had almost lost himself because of the mental magic he was doing. And he thought about having plenty of time to consider all of these things carefully, having plenty of time to wallow in doubt and dread. He sat back in his chair.

"No," he said, his voice suddenly as soft as Dumbledore's. "I couldn't have."

XIXIX

The Leaving Feast was starting, and Harry was walking down to the dungeons to pick up Malfoy. The thought of leaving Hogwarts made Harry nervous because he knew what the summer would bring.

Dumbledore had protected Harry from the 'Ministerial Inquisition', as Harry thought of it, so long as he was at the school. Somehow, Dumbledore had managed to buy Harry time before he would have to deal with telling the rest of the world how he had killed Voldemort. Harry imagined that the relief felt by the Ministry, as well as the rest of the world, had helped them to grant Harry this leniency, but they weren't going to wait forever for the story to be published in the papers, recounted in books, and told over and over again with whispered awe and reverence.

The time at school had given Harry a chance to pull himself together, but his grace period was nearly over. He would have to testify, probably under veritaserum, about what had happened during the final battle, and that was neither going to be easy nor simple. He hadn't wanted to talk about it before. But now, with all this new information about how and why things had happened the way they did, the story had grown amazingly in complexity.

Harry was also planning on testifying at Severus' trial, just in case the Ministry was planning on making an example out of him to all the Death Eaters still out there. He didn't know how much he would be expected to tell about his work with Severus, if their bond would come up in the questioning, or if it would just be enough that Harry Potter said that Severus Snape was okay.

Harry was not looking forward to it at all.

Malfoy emerged from the Slytherin common room and smiled when Harry gave him a rose. It was charmed so that its petals were silver and its stem was Slytherin green. He kissed Harry lightly on the mouth and they began a slow walk to the Leaving Feast.

"You never told me what you were doing this summer," said Harry as they strolled down the halls. "Where are you going to stay?"

"Oh, um…" Malfoy looked down and Harry wondered momentarily if he was embarrassed about something. "I'm staying at Snape Manor, actually. Severus gained custody of me just this week. He's trying to get my inheritance back, but my parents locked it from me pretty securely. The Ministry will probably seize the entire estate anyway, with my mother in jail."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, squeezing his hand.

Malfoy shrugged. "Whatever," he said flippantly, "You know, my choice and all."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to be going between Grimmauld Place and the Burrow, and if you want to come and visit…" Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

Malfoy smirked. "Visit with Weasleys? Are you kidding me?"

"No," said Harry simply.

Malfoy let out a long, over-exaggerated sigh. "If I must…"

Harry knocked him with his shoulder and smiled. There was something to look forward to.

They walked into the Great Hall, but it was filled this time with family members of students—both living and deceased. It was decorated in somber tones. The House colors and typical festivities that adorned the room during the Leaving Feasts from years past were entirely absent.

The Leaving Feast this year was a tribute, was a memorial, was a goodbye.

The teachers weren't sitting at their usual places at the head table. Instead, they were scattered throughout the Great Hall, sitting with their Houses or with families they were close to. The faculty table in the front of the Hall had been removed, and instead there was an enormous memorial display of all of those that were lost from the Hogwarts family. There were photographs, paintings, and items of remembrance. It was covered by flowers and formal-looking bows. Students and family members continued to add letters and poems, things that had been cherished by their loved ones, things that reminded them of those they had lost.

Harry looked around the room, searching out the faces of everyone he still had in his life. He looked to Severus, to Remus, to the Weasleys and the Flamels. He looked to Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna. He looked to Dumbledore and McGonagall.

He looked to Malfoy, and they walked forward together. At the memorial display, Harry took out a picture he had selected from the photo album Hagrid had given him all those years past. It was a picture of his mum and dad on their wedding day, laughing as Sirius dove into the picture just in time and slung his arm around his best friend's shoulder, winking at Lily. Harry placed the picture lovingly amidst the black cloth and flowers.

He took out some pictures he had torn out of an old yearbook of Cedric, Cho, Dean, Seamus and Christopher. He also added yearbook pictures of other students he had known, perhaps not as well, but he felt their loss regardless. He had had classes with them for years, had seen their faces in the halls, had trained them in the DA. He pulled out an old newspaper clipping about the Triwizard Tournament. Fleur smiled brilliantly up at him, and seemed slightly offended when Harry looked away and put the picture down on the table with the others.

He glanced up at Malfoy, who was adding pictures of his Housemates and a photo of his parents. Harry looked around quickly, and then very surreptitiously took out one more photo and slipped it onto the table beside the other pictures he had laid out.

An eleven-year-old boy with dreadfully unkempt hair, huge round glasses, and a lightening bolt scar smiled shyly up at him. In his eyes, Harry could see the wonder he felt at the world around him. He could see hope for what his future held. He could see a shining belief that life was good now that he had finally found a place where he belonged, a place in the wizarding world.

And in the context of the memorial of so many hundreds dead, in a room where so many tears were being shed, and through the eyes of one who had seen the worst of what life had to offer, Harry looked at the photo of this innocent child, and knew he had lost him forever.

Fin.

XIXIX

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