Harry woke up slowly the following morning. The sunlight streaming through the curtains illuminated subtly the room, but it wasn't enough to disturb the sleep of the other two people beside him. Both Ron and Hermione were sleeping soundly, their hands clasped together. At the sight of that Harry, who in the past might have felt out of place, couldn't help but smile fondly.

The conversation the three of them had had the night before had been hard, there was no doubt about it, but extremely necessary. Harry could still feel the warmth in his chest at the memory of it. If he focused enough, though, he could also feel the deep sadness and anxiety that had been inside him for so long, crouched and waiting for their moment. However, he seemed to have found the formula to keep them at bay, at least for most of the time.

He fumbled under his pillow until he found his wand. Then he grasped it with the fingers of his right hand and waved it, whispering:

"Tempus."

The numbers that appeared suspended in the air read nine o'clock in the morning. The boy wondered if it would be too early to visit Snape. On one hand, he knew that he had to let the professor sleep, but on the other one, he wanted to be able to explain to him what he had discussed with his friends the night before. To show him that he was calmer and in control of his emotions.

He sat up carefully, placing the pillow behind his back, pondering what to do, when a bluish light suddenly flooded the room. Harry immediately recognized Mr. Weasley's weasel Patronus.

"Ron! Hermione! Wake up!"

"W-what?" Hermione opened her eyes, her hair all tangled up and a confused expression on her face.

"Harry?" Ron sat up at the same time as the girl, squinting at the unexpected Patronus light and covering his face with his hand. "What's going on?"

The boy merely tilted his head in the direction of the weasel made of light, floating in the middle of the room.

The Patronus, who had waited patiently until that moment, seemed to decide that Ron and Hermione were now able to hear his message, because he opened his mouth and began to speak in Mr. Weasley's voice:

"Hello, boys, good morning. I'm sorry to inform you on such short notice, but it seems that the last of the remaining Weasleys will be here shortly. This means that we should be able to start the funeral this afternoon. Please come to the Burrow as soon as you can. Love, Arthur."

As soon as he finished speaking, the Patronus vanished, taking the bluish glow with it. The three friends stared at each other for a few moments in silence.

"What a way to wake up." Ron muttered. "Although we were already expecting it..."

Hermione grabbed his hand.

"Ron-"

"I'm fine, really." He was quick to say, though he intertwined his fingers with hers and gave a squeeze. "Really. I mean, it's not like it's going to be the best day of my life, but it has to be done. And I'm ready." Harry met the boy's blue eyes and saw that he was telling the truth. "What about you Harry, are you ready?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Ron. You're his brother. I'm not-"

"Harry," his best friend interrupted him firmly, but affectionately, "really? Come on, answer the question."

The boy closed his mouth, pushing aside his guilt. After yesterday's conversation there was no point. He took a breath and tilted his head to one side, listening to himself. He waited for a few seconds, nervous, thinking his heart would start to race and he would feel out of oxygen once more, but those reactions never came.

"Harry?"

"Yes, I think I am. I think I'm ready." He said, still not fully believing that he could feel that way. But he did. Everything he'd learned over the past few days, plus the conversation they'd had the night before, was helping a lot.

"Good." Ron smiled at him with pride in his features. Harry looked into his eyes and couldn't help but feel his heart sink. Ron's blue eyes used to be full of humor and happiness but as of late, and especially at that moment, they were filled with sadness and pain. He wished with all his might that he could do something about it, that he could comfort the boy who had given him so much, but there was nothing he could do.

"What about you, Hermione?" The question snapped Harry out of his thoughts.

Hermione brought her gaze down to their still intertwined hands and ran her thumb over the boy's knuckles. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Good." Ron nodded, with a sad smile.

Hermione smiled back, staring at him for a few moments. Then, she got out of bed and pulled Ron up using the hand that was holding his.

"Come on, let's go say goodbye to Fred." She said gently.

That sentence sparked an idea in Harry's mind. He could hear Hermione organizing the morning in the background - showering first, then breakfast, then transfiguring some clothing into something black and elegant, and finally, packing and walking to the outside of Hogwarts where they would Apparate to the Burrow - but Harry wasn't really listening to her.

"Hello?"

"Huh?"

"Harry, are you there?"

Hermione looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, yes. I'm here. It's just... I have to do something. I'm really sorry." He added as he stood up and began to grab the first few items of clothing in his trunk. "It's something important and it won't take me long. But I have to do it before we go to the Burrow."

"But, Harry-"

"Harry." Something in Ron's tone of voice made the boy stop searching through his trunk and turn to look at him. "Are you trying to run away from the situation again?"

He didn't say it in an accusatory tone, he simply wanted to know the answer.

"No." Harry replied very seriously, looking him in the eye. "I was telling the truth when I said I'm ready. This is... something I have to do before the funeral. I just can't say what it is right now. Please trust me."

Ron stared at him for a few more seconds, until he finally nodded.

"All right. I do trust you. Just keep us update and let us now when you are ready."

"Thank you, Ron."

"I'll transfigure your clothes for you, okay, Harry?" Hermione offered. "From what you say, we'll finish getting ready before you do."

Harry nodded, gathering the pile of clothes in his hands, and standing up.

"Yes, thank you very much. I'll see you guys in a bit." He said, starting to walk towards the door. "I promise."

Ron and Hermione waved goodbye to him, though a hint of confusion remained on their faces.

"What do you think he has to do?" Hermione asked as Harry disappeared through the gap in the door.

"No idea... But knowing him it must be something important."

---

Harry ran in the direction of the showers of the Gryffindor Common Room, trying to hurry as much as possible. There was no time to waste, and he still had to talk to Snape and then find the exact spot in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.

He mentally reviewed the path he had taken that fateful night during the Battle, when he had gone to meet Voldemort. The hot water ran over his head as the boy searched through his memories. He finished showering and began to dress, still deep into his thoughts. Then, once fully dressed, he left the pajamas on a box that would send them back straight to his room, and he began to stride down the stairs to the infirmary. He wished with all his being that Snape was awake, as he had no desire to provoke the man's bad mood, especially when he needed his advice urgently.

Arriving in front of Snape's room, Harry knocked softly on the door.

"Come in." Sounded the Potions Master's deep voice from inside.

Harry opened the door, somewhat nervously.

"Good morning, Professor."

"Potter?"

It was clear that Snape was expecting Madam Pomfrey and not an already dressed and showered Harry Potter at half past nine in the morning.

"Potter." Snape's gaze hardened. "I don't know who you think you are, but just because there's a certain cordiality between us now doesn't mean that-"

"Professor." Harry interrupted him. In other circumstances he would have thought twice about cutting Snape off like that, but he didn't have time to lose. "I need your advice."

The man fell silent, taken by surprise, and Harry took the opportunity to continue speaking.

"I spoke to Ron and Hermione yesterday and, you were right, it helped me a great deal. Now I know I can count on them, that they understand me and won't judge me. Like you said."

Snape had to summon all his willpower not to roll his eyes.

"That's good, Potter. But couldn't it wait for a more decent hour? Perhaps you think you have the right to be able to disturb people at any time and disregard their privacy and their rest. Being the 'famous' Harry Potter I wouldn't be surprised that you think so, but-"

"Stop that." Harry said very seriously. "Stop doing that. You know it's not true." He had to take a deep breath to keep from throwing away all the progress he and Snape had made together. In that moment of nerves and sadness, a good fight with Snape - a familiar situation, one he was used to and one that reminded him of the old days - would have been comforting. Toxic, yes, but comforting. And it would have served to distract him from the situation at hand.

"Excuse me?" Snape's eyes flashed dangerously.

It would have been so easy: a little disrespect, a rude remark, or a bit of passive aggressiveness... and everything he'd achieved the last few days would have gone down the drain. He could see it in Snape's eyes, he had realized it too. But Harry thought of the man from the days before: the one who had been patient with him, who had listened to him and given him advice, the one who had conjured the Patronus to calm him down... And he didn't want to go back to the old ways.

"I'm here for the funeral, all right? We got a message from Mr. Weasley this morning, otherwise I wouldn't be here so soon." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "It's going to be this afternoon. We'll be leaving for the Burrow in a couple of hours."

Snape frowned, his anger completely forgotten in the face of that new information.

"And what are you doing here, then? Shouldn't you be with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?"

"Yes... I'm going to join them in a bit. But there are a couple of things I have to do first. That's why I'm here. As I said, I need your advice..."

Snape's brow was still furrowed, but the expression on his face had changed. Anger had given way to curiosity.

"Advice on what?"

And here came the tricky part, Harry thought. If he explained his plan to Snape, he would be trusting the man completely. Perhaps too much. And the boy wasn't sure if that was a good idea. He looked into his dark eyes, remembering that this was the kid who had introduced his mother to the magical world, the boy who had loved her, the former Death Eater who had given his whole life to make amends, the teacher who had protected him, even though he hated him, the man who had been willing to sacrifice his life to defeat Voldemort and give him a chance. And then he had no more doubts.

"Er... It's a bit of a long and strange story... But please have patience with me."

Snape bit his tongue to keep from saying what he was thinking. That he had been having infinite patience since the first moment he had woken up in the infirmary.

"Fine." Harry continued, clearing his throat. "Does the name 'Deathly Hallows' ring a bell?"

Snape's eyes narrowed for a moment, but he nodded and said:

"Until recently I had never heard anyone talk about them in any way other than as a myth, a legend, or a children's story...But I do remember seeing books in Albus's office that dealt with the subject. At the time I thought he was just curious. That he wanted to investigate the possible veracity of these artefacts. Although," Snape added, his voice deepening, "after the Dark Lord developed an obsession with the Elder Wand… Let's just say I decided to find out as much about them as possible. The Wand of Death, the most powerful wand in the world seemed the most real Hallow of the three. And also, the one most people had died for..." Snape muttered, unknowingly brushing his neck, where the scars caused by Nagini's fangs glistened in the sunlight.

Memories of that night, of that moment in the Shrieking Shack flooded Harry's mind and, by the look on the Potions Master's face, Snape's as well.

"The... The other two Hallows are real too, sir." Harry said, studying Snape's reaction. The man raised an eyebrow, putting aside thoughts of that night.

"Oh, really? And how exactly are you so sure?"

The boy took a deep breath.

"Because Dumbledore gave them to me. And because I have used them."

Had it not been an important moment, the expression on Snape's face would have caused Harry to burst out laughing.

"You have used the Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak." He said slowly, as if questioning his sanity. "Because Dumbledore gave them to you."

"That's right." Harry replied. "The Invisibility Cloak he gave it back to me during my first Christmas at Hogwarts, it had belonged to my father and his father before him."

Snape's mouth had dropped open in surprise.

"I remember you had an invisibility cloak... I used it during your third year…" He shook his head. "But that doesn't mean that-"

"Cloaks usually lose their power after a short amount time. This one has been in my family for generations, and no one has ever had to renew their magic. Dumbledore asked my father to study it and so he gave it to me when I was old enough. It's the second Hallow. I promise, sir."

Snape looked at him, still with some skepticism on his face, but nodded. Weirdest things had happened, and he knew Potter wouldn't make up a lie like that.

"And the... the Stone?" He said it trying to show impassivity, but there was something else there.

"That's why I need your advice, sir."

"You mean it's real, then? That the Stone exists?" Snape's voice sounded strange, yearning, and desperate.

Harry swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully.

"It exists. And I've used it. I was able to talk to my parents, to Sirius and Remus. They helped me to be strong enough to give myself up to Voldemort, to accept my death. But, sir," he added, trying to wipe away the longing that had settled in Snape's eyes, "they weren't really alive. They were almost like a cross between a Patronus and a ghost. A reflection of the people they were. You could tell they didn't belong to the world of the living. It was comforting to talk to them, to say goodbye. But the Stone can never bring back what has been lost. What we have lost." He added, emphasizing those last words.

Snape's black eyes met Harry's green ones and lingered there for a few seconds. For an instant he had thought... He had thought they could bring everyone back. Make amends for their mistakes. Fix what was broken. But from what Potter was saying that wasn't possible. If someone like the boy, who had lost so many people, was saying that they couldn't bring them back to life, that they were just a pale reflection of their loved ones, then Snape had no choice but to believe him. As much as it hurt.

"Professor?"

"Potter."

"Are you still here?"

"Of course, I'm still here, Potter." Snape seemed to have awoken from that trance. "Where do you want me to have gone?"

"It's just that the existence of the Stone often affects people. Especially those of us who have lost someone. Dumbledore died because of it."

Snape, who had been about to interrupt him, narrowed his eyes at this new information.

"How?"

"The ring that poisoned him. The one that left him with a black hand and only one more year left to live. It was one of the Horcruxes, but it was also the Resurrection Stone. That's why Dumbledore tried to put it on him. He wanted to bring his family back. His sister..."

Snape shook his head, taking in those words. He had read in the Prophet some things about Albus' family, but he had never given it much thought; he had more pressing things to think about. But apparently, he and Dumbledore had more in common than he had thought. They both felt responsible for the death of a loved one and, upon learning of the Stone's existence, they had both been tempted by it.

"Well, Potter... You seem to know more about these Hallows than I. May I ask why you need my advice, then?"

Harry fiddled with his fingers, suddenly nervous.

"I… I want to give the Weasleys a chance to say goodbye." He said, looking up. "Say goodbye to Fred."

Snape pursed his lips, saying nothing for a few seconds.

"I understand."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I... I honestly don't know." Snape sighed, wearily. He was pleased that Potter had wanted to ask him for advice on the subject, but perhaps he wasn't the best person for it. "I think you should do as you see fit. Dumbledore gave you the Stone because he understood that you were ready to use it. And however, many mistakes he made in his life, I think he was right in this case. You have shown great maturity. Trying to control your emotions, dealing with your grief... Anyone else in your position would have used the Stone to bring back everyone they had lost, but you have not. So, whatever you decide... It will be the right decision."

Harry swallowed.

"Thank you, sir."

Despite those words, Snape could see that concern was still present on the boy's features.

"You're not convinced, are you?"

"I... No, I'm not, actually. I'm afraid of losing them. What if after they say goodbye to Fred they don't want to let him go? What if I do more harm than anything else?"

Snape sighed, running a hand over his face. His near-death experience must have affected him more than he realized. Such levels of patience were not normal for him.

"The Weasleys must be having a hard enough time with or without your help, Potter. At least by giving them a chance to say goodbye maybe they'll come to terms with it and move on, if only a little."

"Yes, but-"

"Look, Potter... Get the Stone from wherever you've hidden it. Don't make that face, it's obvious you don't have it in the pocket of your trousers." He added. "Then, once you're at the Burrow, talk to the Weasleys. See how they're doing, figure out whether they'll be able to handle seeing the boy again and then having to say goodbye to him. Think about whether it will do them more good than harm. Or vice versa. And once you know all that, make your decision."

Harry took a deep breath, nodding with every word that came out of Snape's mouth.

"Okay. Yes, it makes sense. I'll take the Stone with me and then I'll figure out what to do. But at least I'll have the chance to use it if I think it's necessary."

"Exactly."

"Alright." Harry said to himself, getting to his feet. "Thank you very much for your help, Professor. It's really helped me clear my head and put in order my thoughts."

Snape waved his hand gently.

"Easy, Potter. It seems these 'interesting' conversations are becoming a tradition." He said it sarcastically, but Harry took no offence. There was not a hint of malice in Snape's tone of voice.

"It would seem so..."

"Lucky me..." There it was again, Snape's usual sarcasm, but without the venom it had carried every time for the last seven years.

Harry smiled at him, and Snape couldn't help but return the gesture.

"But, Potter," he added, trying to show seriousness, "don't show up in my room so early in the morning again, unless it's an emergency. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. And now go, you have things to do."

"Yes, sir." Harry repeated, turning towards the door.

"Oh and, Potter?"

"Yes?"

"I hope the funeral goes as well as possible. I know it won't be easy for you. And give my condolences to the Weasleys, please."

Snape's voice sounded heavy. The teasing tone from before was gone.

"I will, Professor. Thank you. I don't know when we'll be back at Hogwarts, but as soon as I do, I'll come and explain how it went."

Snape nodded but said nothing more and Harry took the opportunity to leave the room, carefully closing the door.

Once he was alone, Snape sighed tiredly. He tried to clear his mind, to push the negative thoughts aside. And, though he almost succeeded, there was still a small part of him worrying about Potter, aware of the situation the boy would have to face in a few hours. He only hoped that the boy had the strength and maturity to make the right decisions and survive the whirlwind of emotions they would unleash.