Harry’s nose itched still when he came too, but alongside that annoying detail, he could smell the overwhelming stench of sterility and herbs and knew where he was. Inwardly he sighed. One day he just really wished he could walk into the Hospital Wing with the injury, really.

Blurrily he cracked open his eyes, squinting about the busy Infirmary that was festered with men and women alike, Aurors by the looks of it, breathless Ministry officials, and what appeared to be lots of Healers transferred from St. Mungos at the moment.

Yet, there had only been six of them—seven if you counted Snape, which one really did have too—and there was hardly a need for more Healers unless…

Harry’s heart suddenly jolted and he would’ve set straight up had a hand not had the fortune to befall his forehead at that very moment. Dazed, slightly surprised, he tilted his head, glad for the contact, to see Remus Lupin sitting beside him, worn but smiling nonetheless.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly, his frayed, thinning hair wafting briefly before his face. Twisting up his own face, attempting to assess his condition, he shrugged.

“Just stiff, that’s about all,” he murmured—Madame Pomfrey really was killer at her job. “But…what’s going on? What happened?”

“Do you not remember…”

“Voldemort I remember,” Harry informed hurriedly, not caring about the man’s flinch. “Yet there are so many people here.”

Remus made a silent ‘oh’, before settling more on the bed. “And how are the others,” Harry suddenly started, wanting to sit up but finding it near impossible with Remus’s restraining hand on his chest.

“You can’t move too much just yet, you’re still recovering Harry,” the man chided. “And everyone else in fine—they’re all currently asleep, grateful to miss of this commotion, I’m sure, and—”

“What of Snape?” Harry pressed. “Voldemort stabbed ‘m—is ‘e alright?”

“Professor Snape is just fine, thanks to yours and Ginny’s quick action,” he frowned though, not liking what the ‘quick action’ had entailed. “As for the rest of the stuff,” he gestured around. “While You-Know-Who had you, thoroughly distracting Dumbledore, luring him and the Order from Hogwarts, he had a group of strong Death Eaters attack the school.”

Harry’s eyes went wide in daunting horror and he looked around, almost shakily, at all beds of the Hospital Wing, most of which were actually empty. “Not to worry,” the werewolf pressed on quickly. “Thanks to the quick attention of Dumbledore’s Army,” he smiled wistfully. “The students were safe, hardly anyone was seriously injured. They had very good leadership.”

“Didn’t teach ‘em leadership,” Harry said awkwardly. “Just spells.”

“Ah, well, Ravenclaws do tend to combine well with leadership, especially alongside Gryffindors.” Remus nodded offhandedly to himself. “So not to worry about that anymore—how…”

“Why is my right hand so…” he frowned to himself, staring at his hand without really understanding. It was wrapped up tight, but not tight enough that he shouldn’t be able to move it.

“Unresponsive?” Remus supplied and Harry nodded weakly. “It was, um,” he took a breath. “Impaled straight through—Poppy says you didn’t feel it though, because your body had basically shut down at the time, yet…” he trailed off sadly.

“Yet what?” Harry demanded, needing to know.

“She did all that she can, Harry, but it’s not very likely your hand will be of any great use anymore beyond that of gripping a wand, possibly.” Harry’s stomach felt cold and if there was any color to his face, it drained out immediately.

“Does…does that mean…” he choked on his words.

“It’ll just take some practice Harry,” Remus consoled. “But you can adapt to it, many have. Though Poppy believes it best if you learn to write left-handed.” He winced. “However, if I’m inclined to believe that your handwriting hasn’t changed since third year,” Harry flushed. “That might be a bad idea—seeing how illegible it already was.”

“But I can still do magic with it right?” the boy demanded, fearing one of the worst things in his life. Being unable to work his magic.

“Of course,” Remus hurriedly reassured. “It’ll just be weaker for now until you can train your hand back up into the practice of it.” Harry sighed deeply, settling farther back into the white sheets of the bed.

All this time he had been awake, hardly a rushing soul spared him a glance, and he was glad for it.

“So everyone’s all right?” he questioned again, for good measure.

Smiling softly, Remus nodded his head. “And Voldemort?” Harry’s voice cracked. “He’s really…”

“He’s really gone this time,” the man inclined his head causing Harry to smile largely. He would’ve started whooping and dancing at that very moment in time if he wasn’t bedridden and if he wasn’t dying to avoid the attention of the Hospital Wing’s occupants.

“What else, eh?” Harry asked, lounging. “What of the Death Eaters? Of Dumbledore? Of the Ministry?”

Remus laughed out loud at this. “My, my Harry, you can’t just give up can you? Have to know it all?”

“That way I don’t have to worry about it later,” he responded smartly, a cheeky smile breaking his lips.

Shaking his head in amusement, the werewolf settled down some more. As his body shifted, Harry caught a glimpse of Ginny laid out in the bed across from him, sleeping soundly, her mother sleeping in the chair next to her. He figured Ron was on the other bed, opposite Mrs. Weasley’s side—that way she could sit in-between her children.

“Well,” Remus breath, bringing him back to attention. “The majority of the Death Eaters were caught—here and at Riddle Manor. Some still got away, and we’ve yet to know if they pose any threat.” He rubbed his jaw line. “Dumbledore’s as strange as ever,” Harry snorted. “He assured that You-Know-Who is dead this time, so it’s official.”

He reclined back farther and Harry saw that it was right about Ron’s bed. “The Ministry doesn’t know what to with itself. Seeing ‘ow it just acknowledge he was alive and then…well he’s dead now, so things are a bit chaotic at the moment.” He paused, considering his words. “You don’t have to worry about giving the telling of what happened—the others had the misfortune to be awake when Mr. Fudge came by.”

Harry grimaced. “Professor Snape covered your side of the tale of the strangling,” he peered closely at the boy, his eyes somewhat glistened with the obvious knowledge that he had almost lost Harry—twice actually, yet the choking was a bit different then the house collapsing. “The only thing you’ll have to tell is You-Know-Who’s death.”

Harry paled slightly, staring at his hands with a sort of awed fascination. “Other then that, everything is known. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were reward Order of Merlin Second Class for their fighting, honor, and courage. Ginny, Severus, and you were rewarded Order of Merlin First Class for your direct battle with You-Know-Who.”

“The others should’ve gotten First Class too,” Harry growled darkly.

“Second Class, Harry, is a big honor, and they didn’t deal directly wit You-Know-Who like you, Ginny, and Severus did.” He gave the boy a pointed look that clearly said there was a difference and he needed to know it. Harry wasn’t so sure, but he made no comment.

“What of the DA in Hogwarts?”

“Given Special Awards for their outstanding courage and leadership in protecting the school.” Remus nodded and Harry smiled slightly. At least everyone was getting acknowledged for their triumphs.

Sighing, he succumbed even farther into his pillows, staring dreamily up ahead of him. Everything was over…he couldn’t believe it.

“You happy Harry?” Remus asked quietly and the boy glanced over.

“It’ll take a while to truly get use to it,” he informed tiredly. “But I will be.”

888

“Bloody hell ‘Arry, you write terribly with your left hand,” Ron breathed, staring at the parchment that Harry had just scribbled on. It was two days after he had awoken to the chaotic Hospital Wing, and since then everything had calmed down.

The Wing had actually been closed off the day after Harry awoke and all the students of Hogwarts had been sent home to their families. Dumbledore felt they needed to be with their families at such a time in History—that and they needed to repair Hogwarts in several places.

The Weasleys hadn’t even asked to take Ginny and Ron home, seeing how their injuries would keep them bedridden the whole impromptu break that Hogwarts was having. They had been pumping off so much adrenaline that it hadn’t been until they rested their bodies that their injuries had been really shown.

Luna shouldn’t have even been walking with the state her legs were in, same thing with Ron and his chest, while Hermione and Ginny were lucky to see be moving after some of the blows to their ribcages they took.

“Thanks,” Harry grumbled sarcastically as he shoved the parchment away. Madame Pomfrey had set him to learning to write with his left hand, telling him it would take a very long time to master it, and seeing how they had spare time he might as well start.

Ron had gotten a new bed, after much pleading and grumbling, and it was right next to Harry’s. Harry was rather annoyed with the change now.

“You should keep practicing Harry,” Hermione declared purposely from her bed, laid out with a cast wrapped about her knee, keeping it straight.

“Later,” Harry said sourly, shifting restlessly on his bed. His back had taken most of the damage during the fight, and now, along with his salved over neck, he couldn’t move much to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure what his back looked like, but he had a suspicion that Madame Pomfrey had just tapped the bandages in lumps to his back they way they felt.

“Oy, Ginny,” Ron smiled longingly. “Can I ‘ave one of those Chocolate Frogs?”

“Nope,” the girl said without a glance up from her book.

“What?” Ron openly gaped at her. “But you’re not even eating yours!”

“Eat one of your own,” she snapped.

“Don’t ‘ave anymore.”

“Then whose fault is that?” Ginny peered over the rim of her book, smirking. Ron huffed out, gaping momentarily like a fish, before settling on glaring darkly at his younger sister.

Finally, before anything else could be said, the doors opened and the usual swarm of families collided in. The Grangers had been called the very night of Halloween, while Luna’s Dad, somewhat in his own daze of life—Harry no longer wondered where she got it—had seemingly rushed in without any having sent him word of what had happened.

He had just known. Something or another about an informant of an animal or another that Hermione didn’t believe existed. All and all, it worked out. Neville’s Gran even came, along with a brief visit from his Uncle—you know? The crazy one that held him out of a window by the ankles in hopes of him showing magic. Yeah that’s right.

Harry had Remus, which was good enough for him. He might’ve died in shock had the Dursleys came—though he was informed quietly by Professor McGonagall that they had been sent a letter.

Remus smiled a crooked smile at Harry as he limped by, but he didn’t stop, making a straight line for the very sullen, irritated Severus Snape, who wasn’t allowed out of the Hospital Wing, due to his injuries either.

Clearly he was pissed at having to spend time in the same room with no escape with a group of irritating students that he rather not look at, let alone inhabit a room with. All and all, it was very sweet.

Mrs. Weasley bustled over to Ron, tutting over his disinclination to the medicine he was supposed to drink and scolding him for his whines over it tasting bad, before rounding onto Harry. The boy inwardly cringed.

The night he had awoken to Remus, Mrs. Weasley had woken an hour later. Then, after asking if he was all right, proceeded to lay into him about what he did with You-Know-Who, and how foolish it had been, tackling and fighting him so barbarically.

Yes, barbarically—she said that. Then said she was going to figure out who had control of his punishment and was going to request a sever grounding on his part. Remus had conspicuously snuck away.

When Ron had found about this, he had just snorted over a chocolate frog, and said: “Only Mum can chew someone out for getting rid of the Darkest Lord of the Century, honestly.”

Rubbing his nose tiredly, Harry propped himself up better when he suddenly felt the timing air of a very annoyed mother standing beside him. Glancing sheepishly to his side, he found Mrs. Weasley towering over him in all her plump glory.

“Why aren’t you working on your writing?” she demanded, her voice carrying a very sharp edge, causing almost everyone to fall silent.

“Heh,” Harry flushed red in awkwardness. “Just, erm, you know, taking a momentary break,” he looked at his clock-less wrist. “Oh and look at the time, it’s over.” Instantly he reached forward, with his bandages right hand that was still weak to respond, and pulled the parchment forward.

“You need to work on that—how else do you expect to do you school work, hmmm?” but she didn’t wait for an answer, making it clear that it was a rhetorical question and that he should think it over, before bustling off to fret over Ginny.

Cutting a sideways glance at Ron, who was looking at him sympathetically. “I’d just prefer not to do it really.”

Ron snorted and nodded in agreement. They could almost hear Hermione’s scoffing from where she lay, talking with her father. Luna and Mr. Lovegood were just sort of staring at each other, obviously having a silent conversation.

Finally, Dumbledore arrived, easing Harry’s hand down greatly—then again he’d only written one line, but to anyone watching carelessly it would’ve looked like more—and everyone fell silent to watch the aged wizard.

“It is now official,” he declared, lifting up a document that was printed with ivory lining and so official looking Harry half expected it to be laminated. In the other, he held up a Daily Prophet. “Tom has been declared dead to the world.”

Instantly everyone let out whoops of cheering—or rather the children did, while the parents did so in a more dignified way, smiling largely—and Harry and Ron swung out of bed, smacking each other’s hands.

Silent from his corner of the Hospital Wing, relieved but not wanting to show it, Severus Snape watched it all, Remus Lupin sitting beside him, discussing some infernal topic that he could’ve cared less about. Moving his onyx eyes about the Wing, he settled on Harry and Ron, who were slapping hands laughingly.

Just a boy.

That’s all Harry Potter had been. Just a boy.

Killing would take some of that away. But still, he was just a boy.

Dumbledore gilded all the way forward, passing off the document and Prophet, consulting some of the parents or students, but it was written in his eyes.

Snape sighed slightly in relief and Remus looked at him. The werewolf merely raised an eyebrow in questioning.

“So it ends,” Snape breathed and Remus inclined his head, roaming his eyes back to Harry.

Thankfully.