As the sharply crescent moon rose into the dark blue sky on the evening of 3rd May 1998, bathing the injured castle walls in its soothing light, those who had remained within made their way to their beds and, despite aching hearts, heads and eyes, one by one fell under the spell of sleep.

 

The gift of Morpheus, however, was not granted to everyone. 

 

On the night after the battle of Hogwarts, the boy who lived again found that- perhaps because of his earlier brush with death but more likely due to months of little food, less sleep and gigantic worries, his brain could not settle into sleep. Nor could Harry find comfort in the soft, warm feather bed which he had longed for whilst lying on the hard, cold ground of the various forest floors that they had camped upon, nor did he manage to scrape any interest in any of the wonderful books that Hermione had- with her usual foresight- gathered together in case of a sleepless night.

 

No, Harry could not settle- his eyes felt hot and dry, his limbs ached and his brain lurched in his skull, seeking distraction from its own emptiness. Ron- of course- was asleep and Harry didn’t fancy venturing into the girl’s dorms to seek out Hermione (who, if she were sleepless, would have gone down into the common room in any case). 

 

Not wishing to wake the others by pacing around, Harry had finally, settled in a stone framed window, his back against the comfortingly cold glass and knobbly leading, and unravelled the Marauder’s map.

 

Voldemort’s body drew his eye first- it was still lying where they had left it, thankfully not moving as the frightened rabbit bit of his brain half-expected. 

 

Scanning the map, Harry could see that most of the living residents were in dorms or various guestrooms, some as still as Voldemort (obviously in bed, asleep), one or two pacing or in various corners- probably where chairs or desks were located. Mrs Weasley’s banner was sitting in the corner of her room; Harry wondered if she was knitting or weeping.

 

Harry’s eyes skirted over the great Hall- too awful, even though most of the dots had disappeared over the last few hours of the afternoon. 

 

Minerva McGonagall, Harry noticed, was in Dumbledore’s office. She was in the far right corner and her dot was shaking violently.

 

Jumping up, Harry raced out of the dorm, down the stairs and through the portrait hole. The only thing that could make someone’s body shake that hard would be the cruciatus curse!

 

His footsteps rang first on the floorboards, then more sharply on the hard stone of the castle’s lower floors as Harry sped with all his light-footed speed towards the headmaster’s office. “Sherbet Lemon” he whispered- the new password chosen late last night.

 

Once, Harry would have burst in noisily but, after several months of hard lessons, he slid open the door and crept over the threshold of the beautiful tower office.

 

Minerva McGonagall, however, wasn’t being so quiet.

 

“You can’t bloody forgive me, you lousy scrap of godforsaken paper! You are not him! You’re just a .. a thing. You are not him!”

 

“The portrait of Severus Snake looked down upon the sobbing woman with an expression of pitying exasperation. “I was a spy, Minerva. I had to deceive the Dark Lord- one of the most intelligent men who ever lived and also, let us not forget for a moment, probably the most paranoid. I had to deceive him, his allies and his enemies! He was a legilimens for Christ sake! I could not afford anyone- anyone at all- to guess!”

 

“I should have had faith, I knew you from a bairn…”

 

“For heavens sake, Minnie, I actively tried to deceive you. You are not to blame!”

 

“Shut up, you… you… scribble of a drawing. You are not him!”

 

Closing the office door, Harry walked away, his head buzzing. Of all the people who he thought would suffer, he hadn’t considered his old House-Mistress would be amongst the deepest affected. Molly Weasley and Andromeda Tonks, yes, they had lost kids and, in Andromeda’s case a husband (and sister, though Harry had no idea how the poor woman would have felt towards her sibling, who had murdered her daughter and son in law- possibly, though Remus might have been Dolohov- but Andromeda must once have loved Bellatrix, even if she’d always been rather screwy…) 

 

But, then, Minerva’s children had really been her students and a lot of them had perished, including one who she had distrusted and injured, despite him actually being loyal to their cause right until the very end…

 

Why had McGonagall gone to talk to Snape’s portrait? Was it for forgiveness, even though she threw it back in the painting’s face? Or perhaps it was to be punished, to hear words of contempt and hatred and scorn, echoing the guilt and self-loathing ringing in her own brain. 

 

If only she could speak to Snape...

 

It was not a thought, it was a pre-thought- like when you smell heat before realising that it is smoke and something is burning. 

 

The thought that clung onto the heels of the first thought was “I have the resurrection stone.”

 

Well, not exactly have but Harry new whereabouts he had dropped it. It wouldn’t be too difficult to find and might even respond to an ‘accio’.

 

A couple of years before, Harry would have hared off to find said stone. Now, however, he decided to consider the matter more carefully.

 

First of all, whatever professor McGonagall said, Harry knew that the headmasters portraits kept a good deal of their personalities and all of their memories up to the point of death- Phinaeus Nigellus being a case in point, as he was just as nasty and snide as he was in life- so Snape would almost certainly try to comfort McGonagall, just as his portrait had. Snape might have been a right nasty bugger at times- though how much of that was actually acting Harry was not absolutely sure- but he had a heart and, after all, whatever he’d said of James Potter was at least 90% deserved and, really, Harry had been a bit of a brat in hindsight, but Snape had always looked after him and even advised him from time to time- in that double-meaning, sneery way of his- and he’d never said a word against Lily or Harry’s muggle grandparents, come to think of it. And even that last time, when he’d asked Harry to look into his eyes, there hadn’t been any real hatred there. It had been more like pity and even apology- though whether that was for being a git for the last seven years or the fact that he was sending Harry to his death was debatable. But he’d comfort McGonagall and forgive her, that was clear enough in Harry’s mind.    

 

Then, of course, Harry had to consider whether or not it would actually help McGonagall to see the real Snape- would she accept his forgiveness? 

 

Probably not but, then, she’s at least have to accept that he did forgive her, even if she could not forgive herself. 

 

Then, of course, there was the question of what to do with the resurrection stone after he had used it to help Minerva McGonagall.

 

It had been an easy choice to just leave the stone where it lay- it had fallen without Harry even fully realising it had gone and, once left, it had been out of sight and- almost- out of mind. 

 

However, once Harry held the stone actually in his had again, he was not only holding a bit of rock, he was holding the chance for practically every single person in the wizarding world to say goodbye to a relative, a friend, a teacher or a colleague. Everyone knew someone who had been killed and Harry also knew that not everyone would just be suffering grief; Minerva McGonagall wasn’t the only one who parted on bad terms with someone who had perished- Draco Malfoy, as much of a shit as he was, was probably suffering over Crabbe’s death and what of his Mum? Narcissa looked like a cold sort of person but she definitely loved Draco and perhaps, even now, she was feeling a bit of an ache over the loss of the niece who she’d never bothered to get to know. Death was like that- even if you didn’t like someone, even if they were not ‘your sort of people’ in life, the finality of death, the fact you could never decide to make things better, often came as a horrible shock.

 

So, all in all there were some pretty compelling reasons to let everyone who wanted to use the stone to say goodbye and, if they needed to, ask for forgiveness. Harry, himself, felt the need to say sorry to quite a few people- if he hadn’t brought the fight to Hogwarts... 

 

But, then again, there were some pretty compelling reasons not to use the stone.

 

What some people recalled spirits which were not friendly? Okay, Voldemort was unlikely- no one who was not in Ministry custody had any affection for him (and, Harry thought, half the monster’s inner circle would have avada kedavra’d him for a knut towards the end) but what of the other death eaters? Narcissa Malfoy’s sister was Bellatrix!

 

And, even if that didn’t happen, would it be fair to bring people into contact with something just as dangerous- if not more so- than the mirror of Erised? Even in the Tale of the Tree Brothers, the Resurrection Stone was portrayed as one of Death’s tricks, flaming the second brother’s longing and need to the point that he decided to join his beloved in death. How many people would not be able to say goodbye, would want to see their loved one time and time again? It would be so awful to say no and, what if they didn’t take no for an answer?

 

Which, of course, led on to the third problem; the Resurrection Stone was, in its way, just as deadly to its owner as the Elder wand; power is a powerful motivator but love can make people do dreadful things too- look at poor old Mr Lovegood; when it came to himself, he was as brave as a lion but, when the Death-eaters threatened his daughter, all principles went out of the window. A person who would walk past the Elder Wand if they saw it lying in the road might well kill for the Resurrection Stone, if it meant the chance of being with their kid for always. 

 

Even Molly Weasley, even the woman Harry loved like a Mum, might go to almost any lengths- not killing him but stealing it- to be with her son again.

 

So, what should he do? Leave the Stone where it lay, hopefully to be lost forever, or to take it into his keeping- either to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands or to use?

The worst of it was that Harry couldn’t think of who to go to for advice. As everyone Harry knew had lost someone, who could be disinterested, impartial and objective? It would be unfair to ask Hermione and Ron, same with Molly and Arthur Weasley. None of the teachers would be able to give him an answer without considerable pain and anguish and Kingsley Shacklebot has more than enough on his plate. 

 

Dumbledore could have been a consideration but his advice couldn’t be trusted- he’s be set against using the stone because, like Harry, he’d felt the pull of the Mirror of Erised enough to fear Harry being entrapped by it and the Stone- which actually bought spirits back- was a hundred times more alluring and, therefore, dangerous- as Dumbledore had discovered to his peril.

 

Harry shook his head. It had come to a pretty pass when you realised that the wise old man who’d been the fount of all advice was just a screwed up, lovelorn and conflicted mess, his objectivity actually learned indifference, his decisions as much based on guilt, fear and self-loathing as the facts...

 

Harry shook his head. If only he had someone who was fearless enough to be impartial, someone who would tell him what he needed to hear, not what he wanted to hear. The stream of consciousness suddenly came full circle- Snape!

 

If anyone would give him a brutally honest, logically sound answer, it was Snape himself!

 

The castle grounds were as strangely empty as the castle itself, Harry thought, as he walked under the stars. Of course, it was not as if Hogwarts had ever exactly been bustling at night but there was always someone knocking around- teachers on patrol, Filch, fellow students out on whatever nefarious business was best conducted by moonlight- be it romantic assignations or something more sinister- and, of course, there were always the castle animals; spiders scuttling, the occasional pet- be it toad, cat or dog- minding their own business and, outside, the odd threstral, hippogriff or owl, and the rustle and cheeping of birds nesting for the night. 

 

Now, however, it was as if Harry was the only living being in the world.

 

Creeping past Hagrid’s empty hut- the half-giant was sleeping in the castle for the foreseeable future- Harry stepped past the tree-line and into the forest.

 

“Harry Potter”

 

Harry spun around and, in the corner of his eye, he saw a glimmer of pale blond which, when his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the forest, became Firenez.

 

“Oh, hi…” Harry breathed. For some reason, he didn’t feel like talking too loudly

 

“You should feel honoured, Harry Potter, you have been given freedom of the forest. Even Bane agreed.” The centaur said, irony lacing his words like sugar caramelising on a candied apple.

 

“Err great, thanks” Harry said, feeling, as usual, rather nonplussed in Firenez’s airy presence “Um, I’ve got to go, there’s something I lost, you see…” Harry stopped, aware that he was beginning to babble under the centaur’s cool, calm blue gaze.

 

“The spirit stone? Yes, we thought that you would come back for it. It is not… entirely welcome here. The spiders, it is true, have become rather less worrisome after their lambasting by Aragog- he was so very, very angry.”

 

Blinking at this some that surprising non-sequitur, Harry tried to compose his thoughts “You mean, you’ve found it?”

 

“Yes, indeed. Do not fear, however, it is quite safe. The centaur look to the future, not the past.’

 

“Centaurs sound very sensible’ Harry muttered, following Firenez into the trees.

 

“Perhaps, but every species has their own frailties.” Firenez said gently 

 

“Humans spend so much time in the past, Centaur spend so much time peering into the future, that we are both unable to enjoy being alive now. It is a pity our species cannot meld, perhaps then we’d be able to enjoy the gift which is the present.”

 

“You should write greetings cards” Harry said, feeling himself smile. “You’d earn thousands”

 

“What sort of cards are those’

 

“Oh!” Harry realised suddenly that the centaur was thinking of fortune telling cards “Um, they’re like letters you send to people but on the outside is a picture or a motto or something and you open it up and the letter is inside.’

 

“How interesting” Firenez looked pleased “”of course, we centaurs rarely write but it would be pleasing to send such letters in an attractive fashion. So, the picture is outside, is it on a separate parchment?”

 

“Err, no, you get like a rectangular bit of card- that’s thick paper, and fold it in half, so you can open it like a book. You write inside the card and, on the outside bit- the bit which would be the front cover of the book, that’s where you put the picture.”

 

“I see, and do people draw these pictures themselves”

 

“Err, if they’re young or really talented but mostly you buy them ready made. They can be pretty expensive, especially the nice ones.”

 

Firenez looked thoughtful “I do enjoy drawing”

 

Harry shook his head- you couldn’t make this up; going into an enchanted wood to get a magical necromancer stone and talking a centaur into a career making greetings cards? Life was weird- you couldn’t make it up!

 

The clearing was, on the whole, one of the nicer clearings in the forbidden forest; daisy’s speckled the green, springy grass and, around the boarders, were blossoming trees- apple or cherry or something, Harry did not know- and around their roots, tall, delicate bluebells had sprung. In the centre were three large, pale rectangular stones, with two upright and one balanced lengthways, on top of the two upright stones, sort of like a small version of the stone structures in Stonehenge. The upright stones were covered in carvings- an intricate pattern of cave-painting type animals, whirls and five pointed stars, whereas the horizontal stone was carved with astrological signs. And, on top of the alter was the Resurrection Stone.

 

“We use this area for our bonding ceremonies” Firenez said quietly “We felt it was… appropriate.”

 

“Appropriate for what?” Harry asked

 

“Dear boy” Firenez said softly “Do you imagine that there are not many, many people on the other side of the veil, longing to see you, to thank you?”

 

Harry’s green eyes opened wide “But… I don’t need… I mean, they don’t need to thank me, quite the opposite in fact…”

 

Firenez shook his head “They do not see it like that, child. No, they wish to say farewell and thank you. It would be unkind to deny them.”

 

Harry swallowed, nodded. Closing his eyes, he reached for the Resurrection Stone.

 

When he opened his eyes again, the clearing was no longer empty.

 

Fang’s pale form leapt into his arms and Harry embraced the large, enthusiastic dog, his heart heavy as lead. No one had told him that the dog had died but… well it was obvious. How could Voldemort have captured Hagrid whilst the brave, loyal creature breathed? It was heart-breaking.

 

A flurry of white wings and Hedwig landed on his shoulder, pressing her soft head against his cheek, nibbling at the tears which had suddenly leaked past Harry’s glasses.

 

Swallowing Harry reached up and petted his owl’s head as he looked around the more restrained, human spirits gathered in the clearing. 

 

His Mum and Dad, smiling, their eyes shining with pride and love. Sirius, Remus and Tonks, loving and warm, with the same pride and sadness. Then Fred Weasley, grinning at him, hands in his pockets, Cedric Diggory, his gaze warm, Lavender Brown smiling shyly, Colin Creevey, practically bouncing up and down. In the background, Harry made out Scrimgeour’s leonine face, identified Ted Tonks and one of the female professors- a tall, angular but pretty woman who he thought might be Professor Vector- and a kid in Hogwarts robes… Nigel? Was his name Nigel W… something? But there were more figures, half distinct, as if they were waiting behind a glass screen- Harry recognised Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Dorcas Meadowes, Charity Burbage, Amelia Bones, Emmaline Vance, Bathilda Bagshot and was that the man in his dream, Frank Bryce? And so many other people Harry did not recognise.

 

“Harry” Lily approached, her arms open, eyes shining. “We are so, so proud of you, my love, and so, so sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry too, Mum.” Harry said, his voice cracking “Sorry I got you and dad killed”

 

“Don’t be stupid, son” James said, putting his arms around his wife and son “It was Voldemort- had nothing to do with you. You didn’t ask to be born at the end of July, did you? Besides, if I hadn’t had been so stupid as to trust Wormy… If I’d been quicker that evening- I’m your father, that bastard shouldn’t have even made it up the stairs, let alone into your room!”

 

“It doesn’t matter” Lily said into Harry’s hair “You’re safe, you’re all safe and that’s all that matters now.”

 

Lily released Harry and she and James stood back “We’ll always be looking out for you, Harry, always but try to not use the stone, except on special occasions, okay?”

 

 

“Yes Mum” Harry said grinning through his tears. Special occasions? That was way better than ‘only this once’- which was all he was going to allow himself!

 

 

As Lily and James faded, Sirius stepped up.

 

 

“Way to go, Harry! I knew you’d do it!” he said, ruffling Harry’s hair into further disorder “You did me proud, kid. You did us all proud.”

Swallowing, Harry said “Thanks Sirius. And, you know, I’m sorry…”

 

 

“No” Sirius interrupted him “I’m sorry. I was reckless as usual and I shouldn’t have been on that bloody podium- looked dodgy as hell. It was my choice to be there, my fault. Not yours. Got it!”

 

 

“Okay…” Harry replied, hesitantly

 

 

“No ‘okay but’- Voldemort was a messed up piece of shit pulling that on you. Besides, you should have been warned that’s the sort of thing he’d pull and I should have been more careful about Kreature, warned you that he was a liar. No, your conscience is clear, kid. You did great and we’re all really proud of you. You did great, do you hear me?”

 

 

“Yeah” Harry replied, falling into Sirius’ arms. “Yeah, and thanks for everything, Sirius. I wish we could have lived together and everything.”

 

 

“Me too, kiddo. Love you”

 

 

 Sirius faded, his cheeks flushed at his confession.

 

 

“Come here, you!” Tonk’s spirit enveloped Harry in her arms, her thicket of raspberry pink hair blazing like a fire. “Like Sirius said, you did great, Harry. I’m just sorry we weren’t there for you- should have gone in with our minds cool but emotions took over and I was never the least clumsy of people. Thank Molly for me, by the way. Glad she wiped out the bitch.”

 

 

“I second that” Ted Tonks said warmly, reaching over his daughter to pump Harry’s hand. “Look after Andy for me, kid, and poor little Teddy.”

 

 

“I will” Harry said “I’m so…”

 

 

“No more sorrys, Harry!” Tonks said firmly.

 

 

“We all did what we had to do” Remus’ voice firmly asserted “We were adults, all of us powerful and talented and capable. We should have destroyed Voldemort, not left it to a young man hardly out of childhood, but we died doing what we had to do because of Voldemort’s choices, not yours.”

 

 

Tonks released Harry with a final squeeze and Remus walked up and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder “Well done, Harry and thank you for making the world a safe place for my son. When he is old enough, when he is ready, we’ll both come to see you again. Until then, I hope life gives you every happiness. You deserve it.”

 

 

“Thanks Remus” Harry said jerkily.

 

 

“Dobby is very proud of Harry Potter.” 

 

 

Harry looked down and beside him, his huge, gooseberry eyes shining with happy tears, was Dobby.

 

Harry bent down and took the house-elf’s knobbly little form in his arms.

“Oh Dobby, I’m so sorry”

 

 

“No, Harry Potter must not be sorry! Harry Potter is good and brave and kind!” Dobby said fiercely “Harry Potter made a funeral for Dobby, just as if Dobby was a real wizard. Never before has a house-elf had a wizard give him a funeral!” Dobby cried proudly “You even said ‘A free elf on Dobby’s stone!”

 

 

“Yeah” Harry replied, tears in his eyes “I thought that’s what you would have wanted.”

 

 

“Dobby did want it and now Dobby is free.” 

 

 

As Dobby’s spirit faded, Harry felt a warm, freckled hand on his shoulder.

 

 

“Hi Harry, sorry I didn’t make it to the after-party.”

Harry straightened up to look into Fred Weasley’s amused, slightly wistful eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

 

 

“We did it, though. Wish I’d been there to see you take him out.”

 

 

“Me too.” Harry agreed, swallowing. 

 

 

“How’s Mum?”

 

 

“Devastated.”

 

 

“George?”

 

 

“Pretty… pretty shocked.”

 

 

“Damn. And the others aren’t much better, I guess?”

 

 

“No. It’s hit them all pretty hard.”

 

 

Fred shrugged “Well, the numbers were against us and I always knew it would probably be one of us- or Bill, he’s pretty brave too.” The spirit sighed “Look, I’ll say goodbye to them all- that’s what they need, I think. But you’ll need to help them, George especially. He’ll pretend he’s okay but tell Ron to get his arse into gear and help out at the shop- he always wanted to, I’ll give it my blessing- but George needs people around, understand.”

 

 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure of it.”

 

 

“Thanks mate. Be seeing you!”

 

 

Lavender Brown’s shade smiled at Harry, her face as pretty as it had been before Greyback’s attack “Thanks, Harry. I’m sorry we didn’t get to know each other better- I guess there always seemed like there’d be more time and, well, we had different sets of friends mostly. Remember me to Ron, won’t you?”

 

 

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry about what happened.”

 

 

“You couldn’t be everywhere at once” Lavender said, fading. 

 

 

Colin Creevy bounced up “You did it, Harry! You did it! Wish I had my camera, it sounds so cooooool! Neville chopping the head off the snake and you blasting V… him!”

 

 

“Thanks, Colin”

 

 

“It’s alright. I did my best with the death-eaters. I think I got one! That helped, didn’t it?”

 

 

“I expect he was the one who would have killed me” Harry said in a choked voice.

 

 

“Wow! I saved Harry Potter! Wait till I tell Mum and Dad and Dennis!”

 

 

“Might be best if we kept that as a secret” Cedric said, putting a hand on Colin’s shoulder “Thanks Harry, and sorry about the grief Dad gave you. He was upset, you know. But it wasn’t fair on you”

 

 

Harry shrugged “You were his son and, besides, I came back alive, didn’t I”

 

 

“Yeah, by the skin of your teeth” Cedric said firmly “I was murdered by a fully grown wizard whilst we were both knocked half-insensible. What could you have done, Harry? You did all you could getting my body back to my parents and I’m really grateful for that, so thanks.”

 

Harry ran his hand through his hair, his mind reeling. Before 

 

 

 “I am sorry I could not protect you, my boy.”

 

 

Harry looked into Rufus Scrimgeor’s steady golden eyes. “You did your best” Harry replied “I know that you… I mean, I know what they… I know you didn’t tell them where I was, I mean. Even after everything.”

 

 

“I accepted that possibility when I took on the job, would have been a fool not to. Hid the wife and kids where they couldn’t be got at, of course. Not that my wife isn’t a formidable witch” he smiled, fondly “However, do not think I did not know the likely consequences- even had a vial of poison on me- but when it came down to it, I had a few trainees in with me, so I had to choose between downing the poison or shielding them so they could apparrate. I don’t regret the decision, any more than I regret shielding you. I was the adult, Harry, and adults are supposed to protect children- not the other way around. I know we crossed wands a few times- mainly because you were not used to being looked after, mind you- but I did care for you, my boy, and I died satisfied in the knowledge that you were as safe as I could make you.”

 

 

Harry swallowed and shook Scrimgeor’s proffered hand “Thank you, Sir.”

 

 

“Thank you, Harry Potter.”

 

 

After Scrimgeour, there was a line of other people, some of whom Harry recognised vaguely, others who were strangers; each shook his hand, thanked him and moved on.

 

 

Towards the end of the line, Harry recognised a witch he had only seen in other people’s memories.

 

 

“Harry, I wanted to see you, just for a minute” Merope Gaunt whispered, her voice surprisingly beautiful, “I wanted to say how sorry I am.”

 

 

“It wasn’t your fault”

 

 

“It was, I… I gave up, you see, didn’t care for myself. I thought my son would be better off without me but I was wrong.”

 

 

“It wasn’t” Harry said, gripping the ghost’s twisting fingers “You had a crap hand in life- I know what you had to deal with, I saw it. You just chose the wrong guy- it was his fault if anyone’s, abandoning you like that. I hope… I hope you’ve gone to somewhere better.” 

 

 

Merope smiled, a sad, broken smile “Thank you, Harry Potter.”

 

Harry thought, for half a second, the whole strange experience was over. However, two more spirits materialised. One was Dumbledore, young as

Harry had seen him when he visited Tom Riddle in the Orphanage. The other was unmistakably Gellert Grindelwald, as he had been when he stole the Elder Wand.

 

 

“This old booby said he should not see you, that you would not want to see him” Grindelwald said, by way of introduction “I tell him, he was stupid, yes, but mistakes happen and he always try his best to do the right thing, so you would understand and miss him if he not come, yes?”

 

 

Dumbledore’s spirit actually blushed “I made a good too many mistakes, my dear boy. Too many, for selfish, self-indulgent reasons.”

 

 

“You were a booby. Now hug and forgive and move on”

 

 

Despite himself, Harry laughed. He opened his arms and Dumbledore enveloped him in a hug.

 

 

“I always loved you, Sir.” Harry heard himself saying. 

 

 

“And I you, dear boy.”

 

 

 “Good.” Grindelwald said firmly “Now, we go.”

 

 

“Before that, the Resurrection Stone, my boy...”

 

 

“No more interfering and meddling, it is a good stone, capable of much benefit if used wisely.”

 

 

“It is dangerous!”

 

 

“So is love, so is ambition, so is power- if you lose temper or do not think before doing or is not listening to others and to history and to your own heart. But fear and guilt and sadness and self-denial are also dangerous. They make us do things which are not good, not good at all. You know of this.”

 

 

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes misting. “The root of many of my later mistakes, yes, I am aware. I will not ‘meddle’ as you put it.”

 

 

The two figures had started to fade “Goodbye Sir” Harry said quickly “And thanks for everything”

 

 

Dumbledore smiled “And thank you, Harry.”

 

 

“For the second chance at not being a booby!” Grindelwald replied, putting an arm around Dumbledore’s waist.

 

 

“You can see why he was quite the force to be reckoned with” a deep, drawling voice said, from just behind Harry’s left ear.

 

 

Harry span around. Behind him was none other than Severus Snape. 

 

 

“I thought I’d wait until after the fan club dispersed” Snape drawled, but there was a humour in his eyes which belied his sneering tone. “Still, quite some fan club, Potter. Including two of the most powerful wizards who have walked this earth since the time of Merlin.”

 

 

“I didn’t think Grindelwald would be like that” Harry admitted, feeling the need to keep talking in case the new-found camaraderie slipped though the gap in conversation.

 

 

“The thing no one ever realises about Dark Lords is that they are invariably charming, intelligent and easy on the eyes.” Snape said in a darkly amused tone “If they were raving, baby-eating monsters they would not get very many followers. Even Voldemort was pleasant company, once. Before his first death, he maintained a handsome glamour at all times, rarely killed or tortured- and even then only in the company of individuals with similar… predilections- and justified every racist policy with the most persuasive and logical, even apparently benevolent, reasoning. Had we known his true personality, he would have been brought down by the Ministry before he even began- in pureblood circles, cruelty is forgivable but not mental instability.”

 

 

“Because of the Statute of Secrecy”

 

 

“No, because it is an imperfection. They’re as bad as breeders of fancy kneezles, purebloods; beauty and charm are just as important- if not more so- than power and intelligence. The Mayfoys aren’t the richest family or even the oldest and Lucius was not exactly top of his year but they are the most glamourous.” Snape said, with a funny twisted smile “Or were. And it was glamour, combined with his boyish charm, which elevated Grindelwald; ‘the Golden Boy’, that’s what they called him- even when he was in his fifties. The irreverent, boyish charm, the humour, the self-deprecation- it was very hard to see him as evil, even when his policies would have subjugated the muggles of Europe to little more than pets or working animals. And even after the end of his reign of terror, many of his followers remained loyal, citing that he was doing it all ‘for the greater good, that he never tortured, never murdered- always an offer of allegiance and, if refused, a good clean duel- with a bag of gold to any widows or orphans.”

Harry shook his head “You almost sound as if you admire him?”

 

 

“Only a fool paints all monsters as ugly, Potter. Some of the most dangerous, deadly creatures in this world are the most beautiful- Veela, for example. Do you know how many families have died of starvation or in the gutter because the provider was spied by a Veela on his travels and chosen for her mate? Is that not evil, though her intentions were friendly. Much of the suffering in the world is caused through good intentions and bad intelligence-gathering. On that subject…”

 

 

Harry winced- here it comes…

 

 

“To set the record straight, I did not hate you, Potter. Or, at least, very rarely.”

 

 

“Oh… okay…”

 

 

“As you are aware, Dumbledore underestimated his longevity- he could have been here for another fifty or so years if he hadn’t mucked around with this” Snape said, pointing to the Resurrection Stone “However, at nineteen I was, if you can believe it, very much in awe of the Headmaster and believed him to be the fount of all knowledge, so when he told me that I would, one day, need to step into his shoes, under the Dark Lord, I took it as read. I may have a temper, I may have a sharp tongue and I accept that I am not the most tolerant or forgiving of people but I am not, by nature, a bully. I do not take pleasure in making little children cry. However, in order to be considered a suitable candidate for Headmaster, I had to be highly partisan to my own house and treat muggleborns, ‘blood traitors’ and Gryffindors with as much scorn as I could get away with. In your unfortunate case, I had to appear to despise you; anything less than outright antipathy would have been considered high treason by the Dark Lord."

 

 

Harry swallowed, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say.

 

 

“In short, I was playing a part. Of course, that was not to say that you did not ignite my temper and there were times when I allowed you to merge in my mind with your father, making my anger and frustration more than a mere pretence. However, with Petunia as your guardian, I understood, mostly- sometimes after a strong drink and half an hour bashing my head against the shower wall- you were a terrible task for any guardian and as subtle as a bludger- that you were not your father but very much your mother’s son. However, pretence or otherwise, I was often more cruel than may have been strictly necessary and you were- and still are- just a child, at least by muggle reckoning. For that I apologise.”  

 

 

“Err… thanks. I’m sorry too, I guess. I mean, I was probably ruder than I should have been, even though… and I never really said thanks for all the times you tried to save me.”

 

 

“It was my intention that you should hate me, Potter, it was safest for everyone concerned, yourself included. However, despite its necessity it was not something which gives me any degree of pride and I perhaps took it too far. I shall also have to apologise to Ms Grainger and Longbottom and, I suppose, Weasley.”

 

 

Harry chuckled, imagining Ron’s horror struck face. Then he realised something.

 

“You think… do you think that we… I… that the Stone should be used, then? 

 

 

Snape looked at Harry, thoughtfully “It is not without risk, quite considerable risk. The Elder Wand is desirable, yes, but its pull is nothing, nothing compared to the Resurrection stone. You would be able to trust no one and, as such, you would be best advised, if you did decide to use it, to do so anonymously.”

 

 

“Anonymously?”

 

 

“You have the invisibility cloak- wear another cloak on top of that, one with a cowl- and change your voice. Polyjuice would be advisable. And you will need guards…”

 

 

“I could ask Kingsley”

 

 

“Foolish boy. Aurors are humans too, perhaps more susceptible than most- it’s usually tragedy of some sort that encourages them to join and those who join for glory, foolhardy heroes… they are visited by death early in their careers.” 

 

 

“So what do you suggest?”

 

 

“Me.”

 

 

Harry scraped his jaw off the floor “You… but, I mean, I heard that people who have, you know, died… they’re meant to move on, they aren’t happy here.”

 

 

“Do I look like someone who seeks his own happiness at the expense of others?”

 

 

“No! No, Sir, it’s just… why? I get you gave up a… a lot for me, well, for my Mum, to keep me safe but this isn’t… it’s different, that’s all.”

 

 

“Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night. I can’t imagine the afterlife is going to hold much interest for me, Potter. I prefer to spend my endless night doing something useful. However, there are conditions”

 

 

“Okay,” Harry said exasperated “Hit me with it… them…”

 

Snape smiled grimly; Potter, in his way, was a lot of fun.

“So, conditions…” Harry said, after the pause in conversation had become uncomfortably long.

Snape smiled thinly “Firstly, where it concerns the Resurrection Stone You. Will. Do. Exactly. As. I. Say.

"I appreciate that you have learned to rely upon yourself and your own judgement, you were raised to do so during your formative years and trained to do so at Hogwarts- despite my reservations- and, for the last year or so, I do not doubt you have only had Ms Grainger to rely upon, although I suspect that you did not listen to her as well as you should.”

Harry nodded. Yup, couldn’t disagree there, he thought.

“However, Necromancy is technically illegal. I do not doubt that, if you remain on your best behaviour and do not cause any trouble, the Ministry will turn a blind eye- as it does with illegal brewing.”

Harry returned Snape’s rather darkly mischievous smile. Illegal brewing? Resolving to ask about it if the opportunity ever arose, Harry decided to stick to the subject at hand; dead Snape seemed a lot more chilled out and, well, human than living Snape had been (though, with Voldemort out of the picture, the Death Eaters either dead or locked up and Snape, himself, being beyond harm, it wasn’t that surprising) but Harry wasn’t going to presume too much- that would be stupid!

“So, how illegal is necromancy?”

Snape smirked “Technically, Potter. It is not something which a ‘good’ wizard spends too much time dabbling in and, indeed, specialising in necromancy is seen as a sure sign of a very bad wizard indeed. However, just as it is accepted that we all, for example, enchant muggle objects from time to time, necromancy is very much a part of life- especially if a family has a resident ghost. And, to a very limited extent, we teach it here; the Divination NEWT has an optional module for students who have mediumship abilities, NEWT Potions touches on two potions, at least, which are designed to heighten mental abilities and can be tweaked to allow people to see through the veil and Arithmancy has applications as well that are very nearly necromantic. Of course, Necromancy is studied openly in the Ministry and at several European universities, particularly at Loch Lomond”

“Loch Lomond?” The name was not quite familiar.

“A post-graduate school for Druids or ‘Adders’ as they like to be called- the most skilled have the ability to pass between worlds, or so I hear.”

Harry felt fate rest its heavy hands upon his shoulders.

“So, if everyone is doing it..?”

“As a surgeon, you are allowed to take a knife and cut someone open and pull out their entrails.” Snape said dryly “Try doing that outside St Mungos and see how long it takes for the Aurors to descend upon you.”

“Oh, Ok.”

“Now, the type of technically illegal Necromancy which is ignored is either carried out by the Adders as part of their parochial duties or by mediums, provided they do not charge people overmuch. You, however, are not merely able to speak to the dead and relay their messages, Potter.”

“No”

“So I think the most prudent course of action is for you to complete your studies and apply to Loch Lomond.”

“But, Sir” Harry said, his voice small “I wanted to be an Auror” (‘damn, I sound like a little kid!’)

“Do you, Potter?” Snape asked in a hard voice “Do you really wish to deal with violence, on a daily basis, do you really want to devote your life to fighting and killing and see others killed? To dealing with the aftermath of brawls, murder, torture, offences against children? The Dark Lord was a disgusting individual but there are wizards who do worse than kill or torture.”

Harry’s mouth worked “But I’d be protecting people.”

“There is more than one way to save people, boy. You have the skills to become an Auror, it is true; you are fast, agile, a reasonable dueller and you have the talent for making friends. However, you are as subtle as a brick and you are not ruthless, your instincts are to disarm, not destroy. Your father, Potter, survived as an Auror because he was subtle, he was ruthless and he was merciless. Do not throw away your mother’s sacrifice, Potter.”

Harry blanched and Snape’s voice softened “You are more than your father ever was. Become an Adder, Potter; you want to heal people, not kill them. If you did not, you would not be here, now, asking a man whom you have every reason to hate to help you.”

Harry bit his lip. “So, I’ve gotta do what you say with regards to the Stone and become an Adder…”

Snape’s eyebrows bunched “My condition is that you finish your education- if you wish to become an Adder or an Auror afterwards, the decision is up to you.”

“Okay, but what about now. People can’t wait for years, I’ve got to…”

“You do not have to do anything, Potter. You are not a saviour, you are just a boy who has had too much thrust upon you at much too young an age. However, I agree that using the Stone will, indeed, benefit most of the survivors and that, for many of them, time is of the essence. We will speak to McGonagall.”

“I thought you said it had to be done anonymously?”

 

Snape’s shade gave Harry a very old fashioned look “Potter, if you can think of a way that we will be able to use the Chapel- the most heavily warded area in Hogwarts, which was actually designed by a necromancer- without the Headmistress’ permission, I would like to hear it. I can guarantee you that she will not grant such a request by a hooded and polyjuiced figure. In fact, she will probably…”

“Curse me on sight?” Harry finished “Yeah, okay. But, Sir, Hermione and Ron, they know about the Stone… the Tales of Beedle the Bard, we found out about the Hallows, that they really exist and I have the Elder Wand and the Cloak…”

“But not the Stone. They have not actually seen it and you have not told them that you used it?”

 

“Well, no” Harry admitted. Sure, he’d told them about meeting Voldemort but his instincts had silenced him as to the bit before, when he had seen his parents, Remus and Sirius. It was too raw, too fresh and, now Harry came to think of it, too dangerous. How could he have told Ron, of all people, that he’d had in his hands an object that would allow him to see his brother again? They’d have been out searching for it before the words had fully left his lips.

 

“They may suspect but they will not know.”

 

“They’ll ask, though. Hermione is sure to figure it out!”

 

“Yes, and though she may be the brightest student to grace Hogwarts since your mother, Potter, it does not take Ms Grainger’s intellect to work out that the most likely candidate for the Necromancer is you. I do not expect it will take half an hour for the news that the Stone has been found to circle the world and, once it is, private collectors and charlatans, the bereaved and, indeed, anti-Necromantics alike will seek the Stone and its owner. Some will offer riches, others threats and some will send out thieves. .  Legilimancy is a rare skill, it is true, but then, there are a large number of very talented legilimens in the world and they are not all in honest employment. Your friends will be targeted, perhaps even tortured.”

 

 “But, that’d happen to McGonagall too!”

 

“Professor McGonagall is not only a talented occlumens but very capable of withstanding torture, if she were to be captured, which would take substantial skill, Potter.”

 

“You mean…”

 

“Don’t be a child, Potter. Of course. We all were. It is in the past. Now, are you prepared to lie to your friends?”

 

“I don’t know, I’ve always told them everything, really, it’s, well, honesty is important”

 

“Not as important as preserving lives, Potter. People say that it takes bravery to tell the truth, perhaps this is correct. But the courage of walking a difficult path alone should not be discounted or underestimated. To lie, even to your friends, even to your family, to protect them is not easy, especially when you are in pain, afraid or uncertain. But if you tell anyone, you will be exposing them not only to the agony of longing, but to those who will wish to take the Stone from you. This is my final condition, Potter. If you want to use the Stone, if you want to sacrifice your life in this way, I will help you but the burden is yours and yours alone.”

 

 Swallowing, Harry nodded.

 

“Do you give me your word?”

 

“Yes Sir.”

 

Snape smiled grimly. “It was perhaps fitting that the Stone was set in a ring, ever read ‘Lord of the Rings’, Potter.”

 

Harry looked up “No, Professor.”

 

“I have a copy in my library, which you may have. It is signed. Now, shall we find Professor McGonagall. I warn you, Potter, this will be a long night.”

 

“I wasn’t feeling much like sleeping, Sir”

 

“Nor was I, Potter.”

 

0o0o0

 

“So, how should we do this” Harry asked, as they made their way across the silent, empty grounds, where not even the brightening tendrils of sunlight encouraged the songbirds into their normal dawn chorus.

 

“It may be preferable for you to speak with Professor McGonagall first.” Snape said, with a wry smile “The ground may need to be prepared somewhat. Minerva was always quite adamant that, whereas an everlasting invisibility cloak and an exceptionally powerful wand were both potentially achievable based on our current abilities, the Resurrection Stone was a magical impossibility.”

 

“You disagreed?”

 

“I was not entirely… certain but I thought it possible for a Resurrection Stone to be created. It is true, of course, that the Elder Wand of legend could merely have been wielded by a particularly powerful wizard; a wand with a strong core and wood from a particularly powerful tree would, usually, be attracted to someone who could use it to its full potential and, if that wizard were to boast about his fighting prowess and attribute it to his wand, it is entirely possible that the wand’s next owner would assume that his spells would be more powerful due to the wand and, thereby, cast more powerful spells. The placebo effect.”

 

“Yeah, I guess” Harry replied, resolving to ask Herminie about this placebo effect as soon as possible.

 

“And the cloak, well, I always did wonder about your cloak, Potter. Your father had inherited it from his father, who, I do not doubt, had also inherited it, yet you were walking around, perfectly invisible, despite even the most expensive of commercially available cloaks wearing out within five years. You do not have the talent to refresh such sophisticated charms nor, I suspect, does Ms Grainger, although I expect that she would be able to master them within a few years of intensive training if she were so lucky as to be accepted as an apprentice to one of the handful or so of artisans who make them. Of course, Dumbledore may have refreshed the spells but, whilst he is, or was, an exceptional wizard, he has never shown any tailoring skills beyond the odd ‘repairo’ and I do not doubt even his charms would be wearing thin after a couple of years. So, yes, I did wonder. It is the invisibility cloak, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, Sir” Harry replied “Through the Peveralls”.

 

Snape looked smug “I am so glad I will be able to see Minerva.” Seeing Harry’s expression Snape added “Sheer pettiness, Potter. To merely know I was right would not have given me one tenth of the satisfaction to know that she knows that I know that she knows I was right. I will not mention it, of course, I will just know and so will she and that will be more than enough.”

 

Deciding that the inner workings of his former professors’ minds were, really, none of his business, Harry changed the subject. “Didn’t you know that Dumbledore had the Elder Wand, then?”

 

“No, I knew he had two wands, of course, a mahogany one- very old and quite dark, which he used for everyday magic and another one which he kept on his person, usually secured inside his breast pocket. Although it might have been a memento from one of his parents, I rather imagined it was the one he had taken from Gellert Grindlewald; new Dark Lords simply love getting their grubby hands on the wands of old Dark Lords and Gellert’s wand would have been an object of desire for any new blood supremacist. However, I never suspected that it was the Elder Wand.”

 

“I wonder why he didn’t mention it”

 

“I suspect that Dumbledore wished to prevent temptation; if no one knew, no one would try to steal it- or betray, innocently or otherwise, the information to his enemies. Even the newspapers would have tried to wring something damaging out of it; ‘wand of elder, never prosper’ would have been spun out into a prediction of doom!”

 

“Grindlewald did have it.” Harry confirmed. “He stunned Gregorovich and stole it…. Oh…”

 

“Why so tragic, Potter?”

 

“Um, well, Voldemort… er… killed you for it and…”

 

“Potter, you may have fluff between your ears but I was more than capable of deducing that one doies not need to kill to obtain the allegiance of the elder wand. Of course I knew that Gregorovich had it- everyone knew, he boasted loudly enough to win the custom of practically every Hallows Hound in Europe.” Snape said with a smirk “The fact that Gregorovich had lived after its’ theft was evidence enough that the Elder Wand did not require blood but, as the Dark Lord did not know who the thief was, he showed us all the memory. It was quite clear from that alone- and that was without the fact that Dumbledore also managed to win the wand without having to kill… in truth, I may have sealed my own fate” Snape said dryly “I could have told the Dark Lord the truth about Albus’ ‘fight’ against Grindelwald. It wasn’t even a battle- they shammed one, just to cover their relationship, but the actual defeat was more… metaphysical. As soon as Grinfdelwald knew that Albus was not there to join him, as soon as he realised that the person who he most loved in the world thought he was a monster, he ceased his fearless roar and slipped into his cave, so to speak.”

 

“I… Dumbledore made it sound…”

 

“Dumbledore said that, when he arrived, Gellert dismissed his followers and asked him to join them. When he refused, Grindelwald looked away, looked back at him sadly and said ‘There is no point to anything then’. They then staged a light show, blasting off harmless hexes and illusions and Grindelwald took a dive and handed over his wand. It was utterly unbelievable but it was a useful lie that the Ministry of Magic could peddle- people needed good news and witness evidence is notoriously unreliable, people remember what they thought they saw, not what they actually saw.”

 

“And what they thought they saw was a spectacular battle?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“Did you know then, that they… well… that they were in love?”

 

“Is this 100 questions, Potter? In the wizarding community, we do not blush and titter about homosexual relationships, they are considered as being, well, no more worthy of note than heterosexual relationships. If a pureblood prefers their own gender, they will simply come to an arrangement with another pureblood of a similar disposition so that they can continue their line.”

 

Wisely choosing to bite his tongue and not mention Snape’s slight embarrassment (He was still Snape, despite the uncharacteristic chattiness) Harry decided to change tack. “What do you think will happen next year. I mean, no one will have learnt much I imagine, I mean with Voldemort mucking with Hogwarts and telling the Carrows to teach curses and students going into hiding and everything.”

“I shall advise that everyone repeats a year, it will mean an especially large first year and, I suspect, the term will need to begin in the middle of August, to allow for two weeks of remedial work, however, the alternative is to allow an entire generation of children to fail to meet their potential.”

 

“Yeah…” Harry said thoughtfully

 

“You will be returning to Hogwarts next year, Potter?”

 

“I suppose. Though Ron will probably be disappointed. I expect he’ll want to go straight into auror training.”

 

Snape smirked “Oh, auror training. I do not know whether Mr Weasley is aware of this, Potter, but the first year includes several months of sleeping in hard beds, up at five for fifty laps around the field, several hours of studies, another bout of physical training and bed before seven. And that is the easy part; the training excursions, where recruits have to pretend to be tracking a guerrilla cell of Dark wizard, are well known for the lack of food, lack of sleep and general exposure to the elements. 3 out of 5 recruits drop out in the first two weeks.”

 

“No… nobody told me that?”

 

“I also expect that, given the situation on the ground, recruits will be pushed through said training at breakneck speed, meaning 100% exercises and no cold hard beds and lumpy porridge- which will look like the lap of luxury from a damp tent.”

 

“Because there are so many death eaters still out there?”

 

“No, Potter, because there are about five aurors alive who did not switch their loyalty to the Dark Lord and thereby commit war crimes for which they are now awaiting trial. The Ministry is going to be running on a skeleton staff for years to come- the Dark Lord killed the quarter who were loyal to Scrimgeour, another quarter fled during Voldemort’s Ministry and the remaining half will be lucky to find themselves outside Azkaban. We are looking at a rather dire situation for the next Minister and a splendid opportunity for any student who graduates with a full set of NEWTS and political aspirations.”

 

Harry has a horrible thought “Hermione…”

 

“Will be able to take her pick after she has finished her final year. Her reputation precedes her.”

 

Silence fell between them, a companionable s silence but silence nonetheless. To stop his brain from detouring down less pleasant paths, Harry allowed himself to wonder at the change in Snape’s personality- Ok, it’d be a bit of a stretch to call it a 180 degree change- he hadn’t turned into Lockheart, thank God! But he was, well, decent company- a slightly snarky but basically good natured human being. But then, Harry thought, perhaps it wasn’t completely surprising; the other teachers had gotten along fine with Snape- even Hagrid liked him and Dumbledore had pretty much trusted him above all others. Before the… before Dumbledore’s death, he and Professor McGonagall had even had a sort of ‘best enemies ’ type of friendship, from what Hermione said and then there had been the friendship between Snape and his mother. Perhaps this was sort of what he’d been like with her?

 

“I really did waste all those hours when I was teaching you occulmancy, didn’t I Potter’ Snape said wryly “Even someone who was not a legilimens would be able to see what you are thinking”

 

“Sorry sir” Harry said automatically feeling foolish. Snape was sort of smiling, however, so perhaps he hadn’t taken too much offense.

 

“Open as the day” Snape added “You are what you are, Potter. There’s no shame in it.”

 

“Yeah, guess so.” Harry replied “It’s just, you’re not what I was expecting you to be like, I mean, I get that you were a spy and you had to appear to be a g… not very nice but…”

 

“I would not have lasted long as a teacher if I had been complete and utter bastard to everyone, Potter. Common Room politics are almost as tense as Death Eater meetings. I also was, shall we say, rather less fierce in my lessons with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.”

 

“Because the hufflepuffs would… I mean because they’re more sensitive.”

 

Snape rolled his eyes “Compared to Griffindors and Slytherins, diamond is more sensitive. No, dolt, because they generally work harder, take less risks and listen more attentively. I am afraid that, just as Slytherin and Griffindor were two lovely berries molded onto one stem, their houses are inevitably filled with over-confident, too-clever –by-half-but-too-stupid-by-three-quarters little gamblers. Slytherins are merely more discrete.”

 

“Oh come on!” Harry started.

 

“No, Pottrer, you and Malfoy have a lot more I common than you would wish to believe; you are both brave, you are both loyal and you both have terrible tempers. You are also both dishonest, sneaky little rule-breakers. You just had the good fortune not to be a Death Eater’s son, although I will grant that you are a trifle more open minded and a good deal more compassionate, which being raised by Petunia is no small feat.”

 

“Oh”

 

“Yes, ‘oh’ and Slytherin and Gryffindor were much the same; both basically decent, kindly and generous men whose similarities drew them together before their differences pulled them apart. Gryffindor was raised in the bosom of a loving half-blood family, Slytherin was an orphan who was abused by his muggle relatives who actually attempted to drown him- luckily, his ability to speak to snakes and the presence of a water-wyrm saved him.”

 

“Is that why Slytherin hatted muggles?”

 

“No, that is why Slytherin knew that not everyone was basically good at heart and that children were at risk of abuse in muggle households. It is also why he did his damnedest to protect the school. The argument which broke their friendship was about a muggle child, you know; Gryffindor insisted on sending the child back home for the holidays, Slytherin resisted it and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sided with Gryffindor. The child was subsequently murdered by their parents, aided and abetted by a priest. Drowned during a ducking.”

 

“Shit!”

 

“Slytherin was not particularly forgiving, nor was he a man to mince words. He told Gryffindor that he was a fool and that his foolishness had caused the death of a child, a legendarily violent row erupted and Slytherin left before he lost his temper.”

 

“It sounds as if…”

 

“Let off a killing curse, Potter. That was Slytherin losing his temper. He was a man of great poise and discipline- possibly due to his abusive upbringing- and did not even raise his voice according to the legend”

 

“Wow… so why, if he cared about muggles, did he leave the basilisk there to get rid of them?”

 

Snape stopped walking and looked to the heavens “Potter, I am aware that Binns is the worst Professor, with the exception perhaps of Lockheart, who has ever taught at this school as far as sheer inability to impart knowledge is concerned, however, for the sake of my sanity, I would appreciate it if you do not continue to rely on  blood supremacists for your historical information.

 

 Sighing, Snape continued “Just as every medieval muggle town or city had cannons, walls and a militia, every magical settlement of any size owned a Basilisk and employed a parseltongue or two. Muggles have always outnumbered and, when they have attacked, it has often been a bloodbath; children, squibs, the very elderly and the less powerful amongst us have historically not been able to defend themselves and twenty duellers, firing off one spell at a time, cannot hope to defeat 500 muggle soldiers. A basilisk, on the other hand, can kill an army of 20,000 with a single glance, which is why, for around 800 years, London, Paris, Edinburgh, all kept basilisks- well trained basilisks, with their parseltongue trainers- to protect the citizens from attack.”

 

“What happened to them?” Harry asked, enthralled

 

“Some cities still have theirs, though the creatures are retired, so to speak. However, most places lost their basilisk at one point or other during the centuries due to a particularly terrible siege, an accident or illness or even an encounter with a crowing cockerel. Being rare even in antiquity, basilisks were exceptionally difficult to replace and, as they years went by, there were less and less attacks by muggle armies and then, of course, we had the Statute of Secrecy.”

 

“So the basilisk was there to protect Hogwarts?”

 

“Yes, I expect Slytherin would have turned in his grave to know the purpose to which the Dark Lord put his pet- I expect he used the imperius; many basilisks are very good natured and I expect Slytherin’s was particularly tame- he was a very careful man.”

 

“Perhaps I should get around to reading a bit more magical history.” Harry said, a shade embarrassed “Why didn’t Binns teach us any of this? It’s about Hogwarts!”

 

“As I said, he was never the most inspiring of teachers, even when alive. Too stuck on his beloved Goblin Rebellions and, even then, he was rather too apt to see it from the Wizard perspective.”

 

They should definitely have a word with him.”

“I expect Binns will be put into retirement; Magical History is one of the areas in need of a complete overhaul. Unless children know the truth, they are merely going to repeat the mistakes of their grandfathers.”

 

“Perhaps you should teach it Sir, after all, we’ve already had one ghost!”

 

“Don’t be cheeky, Potter. No, I think that teaching is best left to the living.”

 

Harry smiled sadly, thinking of all the teachers they’d lost; Dumbledore, Remus, Vector, Snape, even Quirrell, who wasn’t always evil, “Yeah, and I suppose.”

 

“Every age has its war and every war takes its victims, Potter. It is about saving what you can, not rescuing everyone.”

 

“It’s still awful, though” Harry said, stepping onto the spiral staircase leading up to the Headmaster’s office.

 

“Yes, it is. And the fact that you appreciate that is why I am willing to help you.”

 

 

Falling silent as they ascended the final steps, Harry could hear Professor McGonagall’s dulcet tones still railing at Snape’s unfortunate painting.

 

“Here I go” Harry mouthed. Taking a big breath, he knocked hard on the door.

 

The sound of Minerva McGonagall’s voice on the other side stilled. Harry knocked again- trying to convey, as much as a knock can- that he knew she was there and would keep knocking but in a respectful way.

 

After a couple of busy seconds, the door opened.

 

McGonagall was standing beside the Headmaster’s desk, her perfect composure belied only by a slight pinkness around her eyes and the paleness of her skin- otherwise not a hair out of place.

 

“How may I help you, Mr Potter” she said, her voice slightly husky from the shouting, “It is, of course, after curfew but I suppose that is neither here nor there, in the circumstances.’

 

Behind the door, Harry heard a slight snort. No one could put you in your place quite like Professor McGonagall.

 

Deciding not to mince words too much, Harry nevertheless tried to soften his revelation with a bit of background “Professor, I need to talk with you about something very important. In his will, Dumbledore left me… well, something that he thought would help me defeat Voldemort. I didn’t get it until right before I left to… well, face Voldemort, so Ron and Hermione do not know about it; it was hidden in a snitch, you see, and the snitch only opened when I realised that I was the final horcrux and that I… I had to let him kill me.”

 

“Dear boy!” McGonagall’s face creased in distress.

 

“It’s the Resurrection Stone.” Harry blurted “Dumbledore gave it to me so that I wouldn’t have to go to Voldemort alone, I saw my parents and Sirius and Remus. I… I have it with me now. I want to use it to help the others, they can say goodbye.”

 

Minerva looked at him blankly, “You have the Stone? The actual Resurrection Stone? Harry, it’s not a toy, to be played with, if it really does bring back the dead.”

 

“I know, I know it’s dangerous and that people will want to steal it. That’s why I need your help.”

“But” McGonagall shook her head, some of the blankness leaving her eyes “But, Harry, are you sure? It was such a lot, such a terrible burden, to face Voldemort, to fight him. You would not be the first to, well, not imagine but to feel the presence of loved ones near you. I know you have had some experiences before- the Priori Incantatum- but the Stone is a magical impossibility. Nothing can bring back the truly dead- even ghosts fade eventually, when their magical residue runs out. The truly dead have passed on, their magic returned to… wherever it goes when we die.”

Harry’s mouth worked as he tried to think of an answer which would not completely spill the beans. However, Snape decided that the time was ripe for an intervention.

 

“Minerva” he said, coming around the door “We really need to have a talk about this whole ‘impossible’ concept that you have!”

 

“Severus!”

 

“Yes, tis I” Snape said dryly “Potter has, yet again, got his grubby little paws upon a legendary stone. The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, The Master of Death- quite the little attention whore, aren’t you Potter?”

 

“How dare you!” Minerva snapped, her tears disappearing.

 

“Er, It’s okay” Harry said quickly “I mean, he’s just being, well, he’s not really being nasty, he’s just being himself.”

 

“I do not need defending, Potter.”

Minerva swallowed, two dots of pink burning over her raw cheekbones “I want to know exactly what is going on, from the beginning, mind.”

Snape smirked “Well, once upon a time, three brothers were travelling…”

 

“That’s enough of your smart mouth, Severus!”

‘He’s making her angry on purpose’ Harry thought ‘Winding her up to keep her focus away from his death. Was it so obvious when he did it to me, for all those years? No wonder Dumbledore found it funny!’

Deciding that he should step in before it turned into an argument, Harry said “Dumbledore left me a snitch in his will, enchanted to only open when I held it to my lips and said the correct words ‘I am going to die’; inside was the Resurrection stone. It had belonged to Voldemort’s mother’s family and he’d made it into a Horcrux, not realising what it actually was. Dumbledore got rid of the horcrux but he knew that… well… he knew I was also a Horcrux. When Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, he was going to make a horcrux but, when the spell backfired, a bit of his soul went into my scar. That’s why it never healed. And why I could speak to snakes and see into his mind and everything.”

 

McGonagall’s eyebrows had melded with her hairline.

 

“I think we need to instil a policy of full disclosure between the Headmaster or Headmistress and Heads of House” Snape said wryly.

 

“Dumbledore told me some of this but… a horcrux, Harry?”

 

“Yeah, so I had to die, you see, and Dumbledore thought, if my parents were there, it’d be… easier, I suppose. That I wouldn’t be dying alone.”

“I had words with him, Minerva” Snape said darkly.

 

“I’d have had a few words of my own” McGonagall swallowed “I may still have” she said, looking at Dumbledore’s (conveniently empty) portrait frame.

“However, Potter survived and now has the Resurrection Stone. He came to me for advice”

 

Minerva blinked “But, why you, Severus?”

 

“Because I was the only teacher who treated him like a child, not some nascent hero.”

 

“Aye” Minerva said, her eyes flashing “if that’s what you call being nastier than you needed to be, spy or no!”

 

“Potter did not wish to burden anyone else with his questions, fearing to hurt their feelings” Snape said in a steely voice “As I have none, I suspect he thought I was the obvious choice for impartial advice.”

 

Minerva swallowed “I never said that!”

 

“Forget it, Minnie. All that matters is that Potter- who, you are right I have always treated appallingly- came to me for impartial advice and I have told him that, provided that he followed certain rules, his use of the stone to allow people to say goodbye to those who they lost in the war would be beneficial.”

 

“Severus, I am sorry…”

 

“I said forget it!”

 

“No, I want to talk about it! I should never have believed…”

 

“Close the door on your way out, would you, Potter?” Snape said, shooting a covertly apologetic look Harry’s way.

 

“Right!” Harry replied, hurrying towards the exit; a numb bottom and a cold stone step was waaaaaay more comfortable than standing listening to this conversation was going to be.”