Harry stared around the dismal pub. The same melted candle stubs were stuck onto the surfaces of the same gritty tables. The same barman wiped what looked like the exact same glass, and looked as sour as ever. There was nothing in this dusty room that gave the slightest hint that the entire world had nearly ended. No newspapers declaring in 72 pt type that the Dark Lord was no more lay upon the tables, no exited whispers permeated the silence. The Hog's Head hadn't changed one bit, and he found it strangely comforting. Almost unconsciously, Harry brought a hand to tough his smooth, unmarked forehead. It had been a month. A month since he had died. A month since he had come back. A month since the boy who feared everything had stood in front of the most dangerous dark wizard that had ever lived, thrown back his head and laughed. A month since that same dark wizard had pointed a thirteen-and-a-half inch, Yew wand at him and opened his mouth. A month since the green fire from his spell had burned its path behind Harry's eyes. A month since those clouded red eyes had shut for the last time, blocking out Harry's scream. A month since the world had survived.




A shiver passed through Harry's body as he gazed unseeingly down at the graffitied tabletop. His conscious mind was struggling to flee from those images. The golden light, Voldemort's scream, a ghostlike serpent rising from the bloodied ground. He shook his head slightly, trying desperately to stop the film playing out behind his eyes. The link was supposed to be fading; the memories were supposed to be thinning... the Healers had speculated they would. Of course, they had never seen a case like his before. No one had, and he sincerely hoped that they never would again. He knew without question that he would not wish his fate upon anyone. Another tremor wracked him. He felt his head droop...




Suddenly, a small, warm hand slid into his. He smiled slightly and looked to his left, where Ginny looked at him out of haunted eyes. They all looked like that. They had seen far too much, and known far too little. She smiled and a spark of the old fire flickered in her eyes.




"It's over." She whispered, squeezing his hand. "He's gone."




Harry looked away.




"They both are."




And then Ginny did something very unexpected. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him.




"I'm still here! Ron and Hermione are still here! We were lucky."




Despite her determined tone, Harry heard an undercurrent of doubt. He shrugged her hands off his shoulders.




"So many died... " He couldn't bear to look at her or look away.




"It will fade with time. The images. His memories. His pain. You have to believe that, Harry."




He opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it as a bell rang out through the room. The door to the pub had opened. His first true smile since the Battle broke over Harry's face, as he gazed over Ginny's head.




Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Parvati Patil, Lavender Finnigan, Katie Bell, Alicia Wood, Hannah Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Lee Jordan, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Justin Finch-Fletchy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Weasley and Luna Lovegood filed through the door. They were a very subdued group. Dean had his arm around his hiccuping fiancée, Parvati, and they were walking together behind Lavender and Seamus. Katie was talking quietly to a completely blank looking Alicia. Anthony and Terry had their heads together and were talking in low, troubled voices, while, behind them, Hannah cried silently onto Justin's shoulder. Lee, Fred and George were walking sneakily behind Ron, who had his arm around his wife, and were reaching inside a suspicious-looking box. Last of all came Luna, who was wearing a black velvet dress and hat, complete with a black veil that swept the floor at her feet.




All conversation stopped the moment that this crowd caught sight of Harry and Ginny, sitting quietly at their table. Then, suddenly, Alicia broke out of the crowd, ran up to Harry and Ginny and threw her arms around them both, sobbing hysterically. As if this was a signal, the entire group rushed forward, whooping and cheering and engulfed Harry and Ginny in a throng of black robes and waving arms. The barman glared at them and pointedly walked away into the kitchen. Ron and Hermione stood at the side, smiling, perhaps remembering their own reactions when Harry had stumbled out of those woods, hurt but alive.




After five minutes of cheering, laughing and sobbing, the crowd withdrew. They milled about for a minute, before sitting down around the table that Harry and Ginny had occupied. When all were seated, Harry stood up. Silence fell instantly. As he looked around at all those eyes, some happy, some tourtured, he felt simultaneously happy and sad. They knew. They knew that, though the Ministry had called the Battle a victory and most were celebrating, they had paid a heavy price. Three years ago, there had been 28 completely different people, seated around this same table. They had looked at him with questioning, distrustful eyes as Hermione spoke of forming a secret defense group, one that would educate them for the coming war. As he opened his mouth to speak now, Harry almost hoped to see Smith's scornful gaze, challenging him, almost wished that Ernie's pompous tone would annoy him again, almost expected to hear Angelina, Alicia and Katie giggling in a corner.




"Here we are."




They looked at him. Alicia was still sniffing, Dean's arm was still encircling a tearstained Parvati... but they were calmer. They listened as Harry drew in a breath.




"Exactly three years later. Three years since Hermione first stood at this table and spoke to you. A thousand things have happened since then, some wonderful, some horrible. A Dark Lord has been thwarted. A planet has been saved. A million lives have been shattered... and a hundred times as many have been saved, thanks to one man."




Luna raised her head, her overbright eyes just visible through the veil.




"This man was an amazing person. He faced his fears, and many other people's too, and conquered them all. He is the reason Voldemort died. He is the reason we lived. He removed the darkness, and let in the light. He is also dead."




Harry almost smiled at the fact that not one person had flinched at Voldemort's name.




"He was my friend. He was your friend. He was a boy, who thought he was hopeless, who turned into a man who the only person who could give us hope. He was a person who failed all his life... and rose up to fight the only time it really mattered. He sacrificed his life for ours. He defeated the man who killed my parents, the man who tore all your families apart. He is a true hero. I cannot think of any words that deserve him better than the ones spoken by another great man: Albus Dumbledore."




Those few people who had been listening with bent heads, raised them to look at Harry's face. He was now smiling, if slightly wryly.




"I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."