The Eighth Horcrux

The mood in the castle was sombre, still the Great Hall lay covered in a mixture of mourners and their dead, the hospital wing was still going full swing, dealing with all of the injured. It was much quieter in the upper floors where Harry, Ron and Hermione were making their way up the staircase to the Gryffindor tower. They had just come back from the marble tomb where the Elder wand had been returned to its rightful place. The common room was totally empty, it was so much more peaceful than the rest of the building. Unlike most of the castle, it was left untouched by the battle. They each took a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace out of habit, as they had a thousand times before, though it felt so different now. For once they were not going to discuss the latest mystery that was just waiting for them to solve it. For once they could just be. 'I've missed this place,' said Ron, being the first one to speak since they had left Dumbledore's office. 'It certainly beats the tent,' Harry remarked, getting a small smile from both Ron and Hermione.

'It's really over isn't it? I just can't get my head around it,' said Hermione.

'Yeah, no more adventures, not that I'm complaining. It'll be nice to just have the quiet life for once, won't it Harry?'

He nodded. 'Definitely.' He absentmindedly touched his scar as he spoke.

'Is it alright? Can you feel anything?' asked Hermione, looking the slightest bit wary.

'No, it's fine. It's just a scar now isn't it? It probably won't ever bother me again.' His friends looked at him, not another word was said. Silence sufficed as the enormity of their situation sunk in. It really was finished forever. Ron took Hermione's hand in his, and she looked surprised and pleased. Harry smiled, thinking that this was now what his worries would consist of, whether or not he would feel like a third wheel around his two best friends, whether or not Ginny would still want him…Oh how simple life was going to be, how delightfully simple.

Throughout the magical world people rejoiced, it was reminiscent of the day he had first fallen, when the Boy Who Lived had been marked, but this was better, so much better, for he was properly gone this time, never to terrorise the world again. Even the muggles seemed to notice the difference. The mist that had been lurking around towns and cities for the past year or so had finally cleared, it looked like it was going to be a good summer. Already the Ministry of Magic was beginning to repair itself, Kingsley Shacklebot was the new temporary Minister of Magic and many Auror's were rounding up Death Eaters and putting them on trial. There would be a large ceremony for those who had given their lives for the war as soon as things got up and running again. Everything would be back in order in no time, or so everybody thought.

In a quiet, draughty old house, quite far away from Hogwarts, somebody was stirring. The rats that ran across the wooden floorboards suddenly stopped, almost able to sense something new in the air. The large lump in the bed that had been there for years was beginning to move, the blankets were rising and falling in a soft rhythm, whatever occupied the bed was breathing, it was alive. Awareness began to enter the living thing's head, it was more than just a mechanical being, it had a purpose in this world beyond just inhaling and exhaling air. It was more that just an it, it was a he, and he was a human, and not just an ordinary one either. He was a human capable of magic, capable of great things. Now his memory began to return to him, he suddenly knew what he had to do. Two large brown eyes opened, the ceiling came into view. The body of Barty Crouch Junior contained an active soul once again.