1. Prologue by James And Lily 4eva
2. Je Suis En Vie by James And Lily 4eva
3. Douleur by James And Lily 4eva
4. Funérailles by James And Lily 4eva
5. Pensées by James And Lily 4eva
Je Suis En Vie
By Harry and Ginny 4eva
“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”
Marcus Aurelius
Chapter I “ Je Suis En Vie
It’s funny how sometimes, in the darkest moments, one can draw strength from despair, love from hate and lucidity from pain. It’s not simple, of course; it takes years of practice, months of pain, days of anger, minutes of insanity, and one single second where it all begins.
Harry Potter had had all of it. The practice, the pain, the anger, even the insanity, all coming down to one single second, one single green flash. One single life taken.
It wasn’t easy, dealing with it all, but Harry Potter was no longer a child. He didn’t refuse his food, didn’t lock himself up in his room, and didn’t cry himself to sleep. Harry Potter did what many believed he would never do. Or at least die trying to.
As he rolled on his stomach, breathing deeply and cracking his eyes only the slightest, Harry Potter forgot, for just a few seconds, about it all.
There he was again, at Hogwarts, in his four-poster bed with the red and gold curtains, with Ron snoring right beside him. Everything was normal.
After these few seconds of complete and utter sense of normalcy, Harry shut his eyes again and allowed a tiny, barely noticeable smile crack his lips. He had done it. Voldemort is dead.
He sighed deeply and listened to Ron’s snores. It was a brand new day in a brand new world.
Carefully taking his time, he swung the blankets off himself and slowly got up. He stretched, hearing small pops in his arms and back and took his glasses from the nightstand.
He dressed unhurriedly, making as little noise as possible, and then went down the stairs to the common room. It was blissfully empty. A small, yet noticeable pounding in his head told him people were the last thing he needed right now.
He sat in front of the fire and allowed that tiny smile to appear again. I am alive. Voldemort is dead.
Almost immediately, his stomach growled and he realized he was hungry... very hungry. He had not eaten once since before the battle and hunger was hitting him in full force now.
Harry swung the Fat Lady’s portrait open. Thankfully, she was still asleep, and did not notice him leaving. The last thing he wanted right now was to start a conversation with the portly portrait.
As he strolled down the corridors he had walked in for the last six years, he saw nothing but destruction and dust. The crooked portraits and black burn marks on the walls were a testimony to the battle that transpired here. All of this would have to be reconstructed, along with Ministry, the faith between people, and his life. But for now, all he really wanted to do was eat.
He reached the corridor leading to the kitchens and tickled the pear in the still life that guarded the door. He stepped inside and stared; at least sixty house-elves were snoozing - on chairs, near the stoves, on the tables and even lying on the floor. The few house-elves that were awake noticed him immediately.
“Harry Potter!” “Such an honor!” “Saved the world!” squeaked and shrilled at least half a dozen excited house-elves, waking up the rest of the house-elves.
Embarrassedly, Harry smiled. Not knowing what to say, he mumbled awkwardly “Err…can I have some sandwiches?”
The elves bowed and made room for him at one of the tables. He had just sat down when four elves delivered an enormous tray loaded with sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice to him. He thanked the elves and began to eat. His hunger was considerable and he didn’t stop eating until he had consumed eight sandwiches. The house-elves just stared at him when he finally reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice, then urged him to continue eating.
After six more sandwiches and a huge slice of treacle tart, Harry discovered he was finally full. He smiled in satisfaction and thanked the elves for a wonderful meal, then left the kitchens.
As he walked the halls, he felt much better. Maybe it was the food, maybe it was the realization that hit him earlier, but Harry could now tell, that for the first time in his life, he felt total and utter relief.
He knew that there was a lot to fix, a lot to repair, but he felt like the weight of the world was just lifted off his shoulders.
As he pondered over his relief and freedom, he did not notice where he was going, and as he lifted his head, he found himself in front of the Headmaster’s office once again.
The gargoyle that had been knocked aside the previous evening, was standing on its feet once again and looked very much asleep.
Harry cleared his throat, making the gargoyle grunt and open one eye. “Yeah, yeah, come in,” he said as soon as he saw Harry.
Harry rode up the spiral stairs to the Headmaster’s office. He did not know why he was there. After all, no one was awake right now to open the door, and he didn’t particularly want to discuss the battle with the headmasters.
Nevertheless, he knocked on the door and was surprised to hear the moving of a chair from inside the room, followed by the clicking of heels and the opening of the door by Professor McGonagall.
She looked tired. Dark circles encircled her eyes and her robes were torn and dirty. She obviously had not rested or changed her clothes since the previous day. She looked older than Harry could ever remember seeing her.
“Come in, Harry,” she said in a tired voice.
“How are you, Professor?” Harry asked concernedly.
A thin smile appeared on her lips. “I’m good, actually, just had a lot of things to organize in here. How did you sleep?”
“Fine,” said Harry.
An awkward silence followed, as neither of them quite knew what to say to the other. Harry turned to look at the snoozing portraits.
“Albus is quite proud of you,” said McGonagall quietly.
Harry turned to look at her and smiled.
“I don’t know what you two worked on before, what was so important that you couldn’t tell me, but obviously it worked,” she said.
“Now that he’s gone, I promise I’ll get around to telling you soon,” said Harry. He really didn’t see the point in not telling her. She had a right to know; after all, she had consented to helping him look for the Ravenclaw Horcrux.
McGonagall nodded and inclined her head towards the door. “I look forward to it, Harry. Now, I’m sure you’re tired, so please go back to Gryffindor Tower and get some more sleep.”
“I think I will,” said Harry. “Thanks professor.”
“Anytime, Harry.”
As Harry walked leisurely back to his dormitory, he pondered on Hogwarts’ future. What will become of the houses now? Would the animosity between the houses remain, or fade?
Still thinking about Hogwarts, he climbed into his bed, breathing deeply. Like Hagrid had once said, ”What's coming will come, and we'll just have to meet it when it does.”
A/N: Let the story begin! A million thanks to my new beta - Arnel, I couldn't (and wouldn't) do it without you! Thanks!
Also a big thank you to my one and only reviewer! Loys1989, good to see reviews still exist here :)
Je Suis En Vie
By Harry and Ginny 4eva
“No greater grief than to remember days of gladness when sorrow is at hand”
Friedrich von Schiller
Chapter II “ Douleur
Harry found it incredibly hard to wake up. Not only was he supremely comfortable, but his body felt heavy and his eyelids refused to open.
It’s not like it never happened before, but today, unlike any other day, he was allowed to sleep in. He believed he deserved it. So did everyone else.
Everyone, that is, except his best friend.
So, just like any other day in which Harry refused to wake up, he threw a pillow at him. Hard.
“OUCH!” yelped Harry groggily.
“Wake up already! It’s almost noon and I want to go home!” said Ron. “Mum’s been waiting for you for hours.”
“Really?” said Harry sleepily “She shouldn’t have waited, why didn’t she just go?”
Ron rolled his eyes, “Why do you think?” he asked sarcastically.
Harry groaned and got out of bed with extreme difficulty. “I feel like I’m going to keel over and die any minute,” he said.
“Yeah, well, let’s just hope it doesn’t happen,” said Ron with a weird tone.
Harry looked at him and suddenly remembered.
“I’m sorry mate,” he said sadly, bowing his head.
Ron turned his head. “It’s ok,” he said croakily. “It’s war, right? There has to be casualties…”
“Still,” said Harry, not quite knowing how to console his friend. He got up and squeezed Ron’s shoulder.
Ron took a deep breath and smiled a little “Let’s just…not think about it for a while, ok?”
Even though Harry agreed, once they reached the Great Hall--which was set up for lunch--it was impossible not to think about it.
The Hall was filled with hundreds of wizards and witches, all wearing black robes, most of them looking grim. Harry guessed they were parents, taking their kids back home until everything was sorted out.
Many of them looked like they have been crying. Some of the people were huddled in groups, some talked in twosomes or threesomes, comforting each other.
Above the teachers’ table, where normally the banners of the four houses were hung, hung a big banner with the Hogwarts coat of arms. However, instead of the usually white background, the background was black. Probably to set tribute to the fallen, thought Harry.
Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, and Ginny were sitting in the far corner of the tables, very close to the exit, looking anxious and jumpy, as if something could suddenly happen that will make them bolt out of their chairs and run for their lives.
As soon as Ginny saw Harry enter the hall, she jumped out of her chair and closed the distance between them, engulfing him with a bone-crushing hug.
Harry held her until she loosened her grip and heard her sniff. She didn’t let him go, though, so Harry couldn’t look at her face. He rubbed her back slowly and soothingly. Ron, who looked tad uncomfortable, moved to sit next to his mother.
“Ginny,” said Harry quietly. “Let’s go sit down.”
Ginny mumbled something that sounded like a ‘no’. Yet Harry ignored it and moved slowly towards the table, practically dragging Ginny over there. He sat down and lifted her legs up so she was sitting on his lap, hanging on him with her head in the crook of his neck.
Molly smiled a teary smile at him. “How did you sleep?” she whispered, not trusting her voice to hold on to a bigger volume.
“Good, thank you Mrs. Weasley. How are you?” asked Harry worriedly, knowing she was grieving.
Molly smiled again and only patted his hand with tears in her eyes.
“Where is he?” asked Ron hoarsely.
“Outside,” said Charlie quietly. “They set up a large marquees on the grounds and put all the coffins in there,” he said, his voice breaking as he muttered the word ‘coffins’.
These words elicited another set of heavy sobs from Ginny, who tightened her grip on Harry. He rubbed her back in return.
“When are we going home Mum?” asked Ron as soon as Ginny’s sobs subsided.
“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Weasley, “I’m waiting for your father to finish all his arrangements here.”
Ron nodded and Ginny released Harry in order to look at her mother. She sniffed and wiped the tears from her face. “Where is George?” she asked roughly.
“I don’t know,” said Molly sadly. “I think he’s in the marquees, too.”
“He was there an hour ago, but he left when I got there,” said Charlie. “If I would have to guess, I’d say he’s home.”
Ginny nodded and moved from Harry’s lap to the bench. Harry rubbed her thigh and they all sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I’m starving,” said Ron, earning a snort from Charlie and Ginny. “What? I’m really hungry!”
“You ate two hours ago, Ron,” said Mrs. Weasley “Aren’t you ever full?”
Ron made a face and reached for the loaf of country bread. Harry, who was quite hungry himself, ate two full plates of bangers and mash, with a thick onion gravy, and for desert he consumed four large pieces of treacle tart and gulped down three glasses of pumpkin juice before declaring himself full.
“About time, too,” grumbled Ginny. “Where are you putting all this?” she asked.
“In my earlobes?” said Harry jokingly, and immediately felt awful “ here he was, making jokes while they were grieving Fred. To his surprise, all four Weasleys laughed, making him smile too.
“No wonder they’re so fat and dangly,” said Ginny laughingly.
Harry huffed. “My earlobes are not fat or dangly!” he said indignantly, clutching his ears, making Ron laugh harder.
“Do you mind keeping it down a little?” asked a plump old witch from the Ravenclaw table, who turned to reprimand them, only to find out she was looking straight at Harry Potter. She gasped and clutched her chest. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she took his hand in hers.
“Thank you,” she said chokingly. “Thank you for putting an end to all of this. I’m Donna MacDougle, my…daughter…Morag…she was in your year,” and here Mrs. MacDougle burst into tears, and as her husband patted her on the back, she turned back to the table.
Harry looked dumbstruck, and the Mrs. Weasley took the opportunity to rush them all out of the Great Hall and into the grounds.
It didn’t take long for Harry to spot the marquees. The large tent stood about sixty feet from the entrance doors and looked distantly like a very clean greenhouse. Above the white fabric, which was the entrance to the tent, a large, bronze symbol of Hogwarts gleamed in the sun.
The four flags on corner of the entrance also bore a symbol “ this one had a sword, eerily similar to Gryffindor’s, in the middle, a lightning bolt behind it, and surrounding it all “ a big red and gold phoenix.
“It’s the symbol of the war,” said a voice behind Harry. “Do you like it?”
Harry turned and saw Kingsley Shacklebolt with his hands tucked inside his robes, looking up to the flag.
“It’s brilliant,” said Ron, gazing up to it. “Who came up with it in such a short time?”
Kingsley looked at Ron. “Actually, it was your brother, Percy. He reckoned we’d need a symbol of this, something we can draw strength from. The sword is the Sword of Gryffindor, the one that Neville used to kill Voldemort’s snake, the lightning bolt…well…” trailed Kinsley.
“Me,” said Harry simply.
“Yes,” continued Kinsley. “And the phoenix is a symbol of ““
“Dumbledore?” guessed Ginny.
“No actually,” said Kinsley and wrinkled his brow. “It’s a symbol of rebirth. Starting over.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Mrs. Weasley. “I’m so proud of Percy!”
Suddenly, Mr. Weasley’s head peeked behind the white fabric. “Molly, here you are…I knew I heard Ron. We’re ready to move him.”
Mr. Weasley did not look so good. He looked tired and old; there were grey streaks on his hair that Harry was sure had not been there last year, but now stood out and made it painfully obvious what a stressful year it had been.
“Hello, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley with a small smile. “Come on in.”
Harry entered the marquees, and was amazed by the sheer size of it. If the tent Mr. Weasley brought to the World Cup was big, this one was enormous. However, this tent was nothing like the other one. It had a high, white ceiling and majestic bronze posts.
The room was relatively empty so Harry could see the two very straight lines of caskets on both sides of the tent. The caskets weren’t big, but they were made of the finest wood and shone in the white light inside the tent. On the end of each casket, lay a plaque also made of bronze with golden text.
Mr. Weasley led them to the far corner of the tent, where Harry spotted the familiar redhead group.
“Is this how they’re going to bury him?” mumbled Harry as he was walking, so only Ron could hear.
Ron shook his head. “It’s only for the families to know which casket belongs to whom; afterwards we take it home and…bury…him wherever we want.”
Harry looked at Ron and squeezed his shoulder again in support. “I’m here for you, mate,” he said. Ron nodded curtly, not knowing what to say. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, a thought occurred to Harry, and he wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Hey, where’s Hermione? I haven’t seen her all day.”
Ron grimaced. “That’s because she wasn’t here all day.”
“Where is she?” said Harry, the wrinkle in his brow growing deeper.
“She’s in room eleven,” said Ron.
Harry became slightly agitated at the slow pace of the conversation. “Room eleven? Isn’t that the Room where Firenze taught us in fifth year? What is she doing there?” asked Harry, deeply confused.
“She’s…talking to reporters,” said Ron.
Harry’s brows rose above his hairline in surprise. “Talking to- what- why is she talking to reporters? Now?!”
Harry saw that his inquiry was starting to annoy Ron. “She did it for you, she knows how much you hate the press-“
“I don’t hate the press-“ interrupted Harry
“-and decided she’s just going to answer some questions for you.” Ron narrowed his eyes. “You really should be nothing but grateful to her, you know.”
Harry grimaced but kept his mouth shut. They had just reached Fred’s coffin and he did not want to begin an argument when they were still in the tent with fifty coffins and a very fragile looking Weasley family.
Mrs. Weasley rushed over to the side of what seemed to be Fred’s casket; George was already there, staring at the casket, looking pale and miserable. Bill was clutching George’s shoulder yet Harry wasn’t exactly sure if he was supporting George or if George supported him.
Fred Weasley
April 1st, 1978 - May 2nd, 1998
Mrs. Weasley looked up, her face blotched with tears, and searched the crowed in front of her. “Wh-Wh-Where is Percy?” she said, pleadingly searching their faces for answers.
“He’ll be here in a minute,” said Mr. Weasley heavily He stood behind his wife, rubbing her shoulders.
Harry lowered his head. He felt as if he was intruding something deeply personal for the family. He turned to go, as if to give the family some time alone, when he felt Ginny’s hand slip into him. He looked at her uneasily, but she returned him a steady, yet teary stare, as if she knew he was just about to turn on his heels and leave. Don’t go, she silently communed with him. Stay.
So Harry stayed. It seemed like they been waiting for Percy a million years, yet it was only a few minutes until Percy entered the tent and rushed to the side of his family, Hermione in tow.
Percy looked horrible. Having being the last person to see Fred alive, to talk to him, seemed almost ironic after his reconciliation with his family. Cruel irony.
Hermione looked harassed and worried as she took Ron’s hand and gave it a slight squeeze.
“Everyone here?” asked Mr. Weasley. “Ok then,” he said after a few seconds of absolute silence. “Kingsley arranged us a Portkey to the Burrow, but I need everyone to hold on to the casket, ok?”
The slight hum of agreement seemed to satisfy Mr. Weasley, as he pulled a large cane from beneath the coffin. “Hold on,” he said.
Harry grasped the cane on one hand and the coffin on the other and closed his eyes. He was finding it hard to ignore the thought that this is the last he was going to see of Hogwarts in a very long time, possibly forever, and suddenly wished he was outside, gazing at the colossal castle.
He felt a pull behind his navel and a second after he was struggling to hold up the weight of the casket as well as himself. Luckily for him, eight other people held the casket, so both he and the coffin remained standing.
Harry looked up and expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
He was finally home.
Je Suis En Vie
By Harry and Ginny 4eva
“Always remember that the future comes one day at a time.”
Dean Acheson
Chapter III “ Funérailles
Soft wind blew through Harry’s hair as he looked at his surroundings. The green, fresh meadow was almost shining with the warm May sun. The wind shifted it ever so gently and Harry could see tiny purple flowers peeking out of the grass.
He was standing right beneath a large oak tree, occasionally glancing at the big hole in the ground next to him. It seemed so out of place in such a beautiful environment that Harry grimaced at the irony.
Fred’s funeral was held in the open grounds of Ottery St. Catchpole, a twenty minutes’ walk from the Burrow. Not too close, but never too far from home. Charlie remembered the place from times he used to run away from home when he was younger and wanted some peace and quiet.
So there they stood around the big grave, watching Fred’s casket slowly being levitated down by George. He had tears steadily streaming down his face, a sob escaping every now and then, looking empty and shocked, as if he could not understand the full meaning of what he was doing.
Mrs. Weasley was trying to break away from her husband’s strong embrace, attempting to touch the coffin one last time before she never saw it again. She was weeping, groaning against Mr. Weasley, who was crying himself, trying to hold his wife upright.
“Fred!” bawled Mrs. Weasley. “Let me go! Let me get my baby!” she struggled against Mr. Weasley. “FRED!”
Bill and Charlie both sat on their knees on the edge of the grave, looking down at the gleaming wooden casket. They, too, cried and looked as if their mother’s yelling was making it all too hard on them to bear. Fleur stood right behind her husband, silent tears streaming down her face.
Percy was standing next to the grave, with his arms around himself, trying to stop the tears from flooding his cheeks. He looked over at Ron, who had his arm around Hermione, his face touching her temple, silently crying.
Harry looked down at the redhead who was clutching his abdomen as if holding to her lifeline. He felt hollow, finding it incredibly hard to look at any of the Weasleys and even more difficult to hear Mrs. Weasley crying out for Fred to come back. He struggled to breathe in. Maybe because of Ginny, maybe because of the situation, but he felt as if he could not escape the gaping, black hole in his heart.
It was too overwhelming. Too harsh. He couldn’t say anything that would make them feel better. A wave of his wand would not cheer them up. Harry remembered that feeling, that giant hole in his heart that tore open the minute Sirius fell through the veil.
He felt that hole open up again as he looked down at the grave that was now slowly filling up with the soil levitated by George, Bill and Charlie. In a second, they wouldn’t be able to see the casket ever again. Fred would really be gone, and nothing could bring him back.
Mrs. Weasley and Ginny cried harder. Even Hermione no longer seemed stable under Ron’s weight and her sobs.
The casket disappeared. Harry heard some heavy sniffs from behind him and turned to look at the people who came to give the family their condolences. Aunt Muriel was there, blowing into her handkerchief and patting Bill’s back with her chubby hand. Luna, Neville, Seamus and Dean were all there too, looking gravely at the slowly growing mound of soil.
Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and at least twenty other students from Hogwarts were there, all bowing their heads in respect of the notorious prankster. Angelina Johnson, who had been dating Fred up until his death, looked like she hadn’t slept in a while “ her eyes were red and puffy and she had dark circles around them.
But Harry’s eyes drew to someone else. As he stared at the figure, his mind reeled with sadness and sympathy. Andromeda Tonks stood a little distanced from the crowd. She held a bundle of clothing on her arms, which Harry presumed held baby Teddy, sleeping soundly, unaware that his parents were dead.
Harry turned to the girl in his arms. Her hair glowed in the slowly setting sun as people shook her hand, now offering their condolences.
And then, it was over.
The walk back to the Burrow was poignant. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were leading the group, holding each other in silence. George walked behind them with his hands shoved deep inside his robes. Percy, Bill, Fleur, and Charlie marched after him, whispering to each other silently, yet vigorously. And at the end of the group, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione supported each other quietly.
Harry and Hermione occasionally looked at each other, not knowing what to do or what to say to their grieving friends. Harry stroked Ginny’s back so often he started feeling a slight tingling in the tip of his fingers. He never stopped, though.
They arrived at the Burrow, still engulfed in a shocked sort of silence, as if they don’t really know what just happened.
George, Ron and Ginny immediately went up to their rooms. Harry felt it was time to let them have some time on their own to grieve. He remembered after Sirius's death, all he really wanted to do is be alone with his thoughts and numbness.
Mr. Weasley, Bill, Percy, and Charlie all sat down heavily at the dining room table, looking grave and tired.
“I’ll make some tea,” croaked Mrs. Weasley.
“No!” cried Harry, Hermione and Fleur in unison, making Mr. Weasley jump a little.
“Non!” repeated Fleur. “You will do no zuch zing! Zeet down and relax, I’ll make ze tea.”
Molly smiled weakly and sat on a chair, not bothering to argue with her. “Thanks, dear,” She said gratefully.
“Zat eez no problem at all,” smiled Fleur.
Harry and Hermione followed Fleur to the kitchen, desperate for the opportunity to talk and leave the family alone for a little while. As soon as they closed the kitchen’s door behind them, Hermione burst into tears.
“Oh Harry! It’s so awful to watch them hurt so much!” she whispered painfully. “What are we supposed to do? How do we act?” she panicked.
Harry frowned. He did not know himself how to react. Should he tell them it‘d never go away? That the pain would always be there? Or should he reassure them that it would be alright someday, that even he forgot Sirius every now and then…
Harry opened his mouth to answer her, but Fleur beat him. “Give zem support, let zem get zeir tearz out,” she said. “And don’t pressure zem.”
Hermione turned to look at her tearfully. “But…What do I say? How can I help him?”
“Don’t say anything,” said Harry, not exactly aware of the words coming out of his mouth. “Just be there, and let him do the talking.”
Indeed, in the next couple of hours Harry found it was better to let the others do the talking and reminisce; it felt like the air was getting lighter with every memory of Fred. Maybe it was because Fred did so many humorous things, or maybe because they just let it out of their chests, but Harry sensed that the Weasleys were feeling a little better.
Fred wouldn’t have wanted them to be sad, he thought.
Before any of them noticed, it was already very late into the night, and the Weasleys slowly scattered to their respective bedrooms, leaving Harry and Hermione staring tiredly at the kitchen table.
“Hermione,” started Harry.
“Don’t,” retorted Hermione before Harry could utter another word. “I know what you’re going to say…that it’ll be alright, that everything will work out at the end…but you know what? It’s not. Fred’s dead and-“
“Hermione,” cut in Harry. “That’s not what I meant to say at all,” he scowled.
“Oh,” said Hermione, her face relaxing. “Oh.”
“I meant to say thank you for handling the press the other day…I don’t know if I want to talk to any of them right now.”
“Oh,” repeated Hermione, her face turning slightly pink. “I-Well, that’s fine. I wouldn’t let you deal with them even if you asked for it, not yet anyway.”
Harry smiled a little. “Thanks, I guess,” he said.
“Sleep?” she asked, noticing him stifling a yawn.
“Yes please,” muttered Harry.
The day after the funeral was gloomy and cloudy even though it was the middle of May and seemed to reflect the mood inside the Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked drawn and tired, and the rest of the Weasley children stayed in their rooms for most of the day, coming out only for bathroom breaks and meals.
Fleur, Harry, and Hermione did everything they could to help Mrs. Weasley keep the household running, all the while letting her rest and catch some sleep. Hermione was concerned about George, who had hardly spoken and barely eaten since the funeral, but Fleur silently reassured her that he‘d come around soon.
Harry was sitting quite alone in the kitchen, three days after the funeral, chewing on a piece of toast he made himself. The past two days had been filled with funerals and sadness within the Weasley household. Tonks and Remus were buried next to each other in the Hogwarts grounds, just behind the Whomping Willow. Harry thought it was only fitting for Remus to be buried where he had the most wonderful and painful experiences of his life, and for Tonks to be buried next to the forest, a tribute to her wild and unexpected nature.
“Morning,” came a voice behind him. Harry turned, choking on a bit of toast, immediately recognizing Ginny’s voice.
“Morning,” he mumbled, returning to his toast. “How did you sleep?”
“I’ve slept better,” she said tiredly, sitting heavily on one of the chairs and rubbing her eyes. “Did you get any sleep at all?” she asked, noting the bags under his eyes and the robes from yesterday.
“Only a little, I had a lot to think about,” he said, thinking about his night of tossing and turning endlessly in his bed. Ginny poured herself a cup of coffee and sipped.
“Wanna share?” she said, blowing on the steamy cup.
Harry looked at her, measuring her, taking in her dishevelled look and her slightly red eyes, probably from all the crying. Returning his gaze to the toast in his hands, he frowned.
“I can’t believe it’s really over,” he said, still frowning. “It doesn’t feel like it…it feels like the situation just got worse.”
“He’s really gone, Harry,” said Ginny.
“I know he is,” he mumbled. “But no one is feeling happy, I’m not feeling happy, I feel lousy…I never meant for Neville to call you all, if he hadn’t called you ““
“Bellatrix would still be alive, so would a dozen other Death Eaters! The students and teachers of Hogwarts alone weren’t capable of winning that battle, Harry! There were just too many of them, and too few of us.”
Harry looked at Ginny with a new appreciation. It was not as if he hadn’t known all that already, but still he felt partially guilty for Fred’s death.
As if reading his mind, she put her hand on his. “It’s not your fault he died, Harry,” Ginny said, tears in her eyes. “You didn’t kill him, Rookwood fired that spell,” her voice broke and Harry found himself turning his hand so her hand was now resting in hers. “Rookwood did it,” she repeated. “And he’ll pay, even if it’ll costs me my life, he’ll pay for it.”
Harry sat in silence, letting her calm down, rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand while she took several calming breaths and continued drinking her coffee.
“We’ll be alright,” he said, not aware of the actual words coming out of his mouth. “We’ll be alright…”
“Hermione’s going after her parents today,” said Ginny after a few seconds of silence.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, slightly shocked that nobody had told him about it. “She never mentioned it.”
“She didn’t tell anyone but me and Ron…she never meant to tell me, either, except I accidentally heard them talking about it yesterday.”
“Accidentally, huh?” asked Harry with a slightly amused tone, knowing his girlfriend rarely stumbled upon something accidentally.
“Are you questioning my integrity, Mr. Potter?” she asked quirked eyebrow, a ghost of a smile hovering on the edges of her lips.
“Not at all, Miss Weasley,” he said vaguely, waving his hand absentmindedly. “Not at all.”
The banter seemed to last for only a few seconds until they returned to silence, this time less heavy and a bit happier.
“So…when is she going?” asked Harry in a desperate attempt to perk the conversation up again. “Aren’t her parents in Australia?”
“They are, as far as I know,” said Ginny, wrinkling her brow and taking another sip from her coffee. “She planned to leave right after breakfast with Ron, I think.”
As Harry pondered about this new information, Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs, sighing. She looked up at Harry and Ginny and smiled weakly.
“Morning dears, why are you awake so early?” asked Mrs. Weasley.
“Couldn’t sleep,” said Ginny, shrugging. Harry nodded in agreement.
“Well, you must be hungry, let me ma-“
“No!” cut Harry. “I’ll make breakfast; just sit down, Mrs. Weasley.”
Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes. “Harry Potter, I am not a cripple, I am perfectly capable of making breakfast, so you sit down and gulp down your coffee.”
“But ““
“No buts, Harry, and that’s final,” said Mrs. Weasley with an air of self-defiance.
Harry, feeling much like a boy being told off by his mother, sat down in semi-shock, much to Ginny’s amusement and raised eyebrow.
“Merlin knows I need to do something with myself,” she muttered so quietly Harry had to lean in to hear her. Wisely, he chose not to comment, fearing for his eardrums and some other body parts he cherished.
“Do I smell bacon?”
Ron trudged down the stairs and entered the kitchen with the gracefulness of a Hippogriff. He gave Harry and Ginny a shrug of hello and wolfed down the plate of bacon and eggs served by his mother.
“Got anything planned for today?” asked Harry innocently, trying to conceal his disappointment while Ginny gave him a disapproving glance.
Ron turned a little pink. “Yeah, I’m going out with Hermione.”
“On a date?” pressed Harry, determined not to let him get away without telling him.
“No,” blushed Ron. “Hermione just wanted…she thought it’s time to…”
“I reckoned it was time to bring my parents back from Australia.”
Hermione, who obviously had been listening at the door, spoke up. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Harry, but I thought you could use the rest.”
“That’s fine…” said Harry, a bit reluctantly, not sure whether he was angry or not. “When are you leaving?”
“I thought we should go in an hour or so, but I’m starting to feel like it’s a little too soon, I mean, there are still Death Eaters out there, aren’t there? And what about my parents? I put then in a hotel, but what if they moved out? I don’t know how to trace them or…”
“Hermione, relax,” said Ginny, her eyebrow raised. “You’ll be fine, just think about it for a day and you’ll be able to do it in no time,” she said.
Hermione sighed and put her head in her hands. “You’re right,” she said, her voice muffled by her hands.
“Of course I’m right,” said Ginny with a slight smirk. Ron snorted and took another egg, swallowing it in a second.
“And besides “ I think we should go to Diagon Alley, I’ve been meaning to go to George and Fr- George’s shop for ages,” said Ginny, swallowing a little as she remembered it was only George’s shop now.
“That’s great,” said Ron, chewing an egg. “Can we eat first?”
“You’re already eating Ron,” said Hermione and rolled her eyes.
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but at this exact moment, four large owls flew through the window and landed heavily on the table, knocking the plates upside-down.
“What the-?” gasped Ginny, gazing wide-eyed at the owls.
Two owls stood in front of Harry, offering him their legs, each attached to a letter. Harry glanced at the others and noticed that Ron and Hermione each got a letter.
“Who are they from?” said Mrs. Weasley, glancing over Ron’s shoulder to look at the letter. “What do they say?”
“It looks like letters from Hogwarts...” said Ron worriedly.
“It’s way too early to send out letters!” exclaimed Harry. “It’s three months away!”
“It’s from Professor McGonagall,” breathed Hermione excitedly, obviously not listening to the conversation. “She’s offering all of last year seventh-years to finish our education! She said they’re expecting a reply by July 30th.”
Ron groaned. “No way, I’m not coming back there again; I’ve had enough education for a lifetime! I want to be completely free this year!”
“But what about your education?!” asked Mrs. Weasley sharply. “You won’t be able to get a job if you won’t have your NEWTs, Ron! I hope you know that!”
Ron, who hadn’t expected this kind of attack, blushed furiously. “I’m of age, Mum, you can’t tell me what to do anymore!”
“I know that, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about some of your decisions! Like you going out on that dangerous quest last year! Do you have any idea how worried we were?! No letters, no information about you!” Mrs. Weasley was yelling now. “And then you coming back with bruises and scars all over you a few days ago! Don’t tell me you’re of age Ronald Weasley, because some of your decisions were completely and utterly irresponsible!”
There was silence for a few seconds while everyone looked at Molly and Ron silently, shocked at her outburst. Molly panted silently, glaring daggers at Ron, who had reached a new, shiny shade of red, and was still chewing furiously, determined not to respond to his mother.
“Harry,” said Ginny, turning to Harry in attempt to break the tension. “What’s in the other letter?”
Harry, quite mortified that the limelight was on him, opened the letter quickly. “It’s from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” he announced, making the rest of the kitchen residents turn their gaze to him. “They’re summoning me for an investigation in two hours.”
“What for?” spluttered Ginny. “It’s not like you did anything wrong! Or would they have preferred Voldemort on the loose?” she said sarcastically, frowning at the letter.
“Of course they don’t,” said Hermione levelly. “They want to hear about what happened in Hogwarts.”
“There were at least two hundred people there! Why Harry?” yelped Ron. “Why not me, or you, or even Ginny?”
“Even Ginny? What was I? A fly on the wall that observed the whole fight?” asked Ginny angrily.
“Because Harry was the one who killed him,” said Hermione impatiently, trying to save Ron from another redhead tempered speech. “The best information is first-hand isn’t it? So they want Harry to tell them how he killed him when he fired only a Disarming Charm.”
Harry, not at all happy about this whole investigation, scowled and stood up. He’d better get ready if he wanted to be there on time.
“May I come with you?” blurted Ginny.
Harry contemplated Ginny. “Sure,” he said, thinking he’d need someone there with him.
After all, no one deserved to know what really happened like Ginny.
Je Suis En Vie
By Harry and Ginny 4eva
“Both expectations and memories are more than mere images founded on previous experience.”
Samuel Alexander
Chapter IV - Pensées
When Harry was younger, he imagined himself working as an Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic, fighting dark wizards while travelling the world, and coming back to a neat, secluded office where he could enjoy a nice glass of Firewhiskey before returning home.
All these dreams came to an abrupt and rather nasty halt as soon as Harry entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. To say that it didn’t meet his expectations was like saying that saying Professor Binns was slightly boring.
Harry remembered the Department from the summer before his fifth year, when he and Mr. Weasley visited before his disciplinary hearing. The speedy walk-through in the Auror Office left him deeply impressed of the colourful and joyful environment. The laughter and the clutter all around were distantly connected to the feel he got when he visited The Burrow.
That’s why when he entered the Auror Office his eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
The most noticeable change was where Kingsley used to sit. What used to be a cubical like all the other cubicles in the room, now became a secluded office with pitch black walls that stood in contrast to the huge white posters of Undesirables Number One, Number Two and Number Three that graced the walls. Right above the entrance door to the Head's office, hung a huge silver banner with curly, green writing on: "Their Weakness Is Our Power."
Ginny took Harry's hand, staring at his face from across the room. "Why is it still up? It's been four days since the battle!" she asked angrily.
"We hardly have any Aurors left, to be honest," started Kingsley. "But all in all, it's more important to actually catch Death Eaters right now," he said.
"Still, it would only take a second...,” said Ginny under her breath.
Harry, who listened to the argument only half-heartedly, continued to absorb his surroundings. The mess and clutter that he remembered were now replaced by eerie quiet and organized cubicles. Smiling faces didn't peek at him from photos on desks and the few Aurors Harry did see, were frowning over stacks of papers and maps, several memos hovering above each of the office’s occupants.
"Over here," said Kingsley and led them inside the Head's office. The office looked deserted, as if someone packed their things in a hurry and ran away. A huge map of Britain hung on the wall, and the little red pins that previously marked were Sirius was spotted, now marked, as Harry assumed, where he, Hermione and Ron might have been sighted.
The walls were coloured in dark green and, again, Harry stared at his poster with a look of dismay. Kingsley, noticing Harry's look, vanished the posters with a wave of his wand. A big roll of parchment lay ready on the desk, with a red quill hovering above it, ready to start recording the investigation.
Two Aurors stood in front of him, each frowning and had their hands crossed, wearing the signature scarlet robes. The first was tall and lanky; he had long black hair and looked worn and tired. The second was shorter than Kingsley was, and had grey hair and menacing eyes, although Harry could not understand why.
“Harry,” opened Kingsley. “These are Aurors Williamson and Greengrass and they will be the ones holding your investigation,” he said, pointing at the Aurors. "I'll be sitting over there," he said and pointed to a chair behind Harry. "So everything will run smoothly. I'll ask questions occasionally and stop the investigation when I see fit," he said formally. "And please, Mr. Potter," he turned to Harry. "Tell us what we need to know."
Harry, who never intended to lay in more information than absolutely necessary, nodded curtly. Kingsley nodded to one of the Aurors and took the back seat.
"Why is she here?" asked the grey-haired Auror and nodded towards Ginny. "It's a private investigation."
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Kingsley beat him to it. "I have authorised Ms. Weasley’s presence in this investigation, Williamson."
Williamson tapped the quill with his wand and cleared his throat. "Investigation number 4682 of the sixth of August,” said Williamson. "Into the events of The Battle of Hogwarts by Harry James Potter, resident at number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."
"I don't live there anymore," said Harry, frowning at Williamson.
"You are registered as a resident there until you register differently as an adult," answered the longhaired Auror on Williamson's right.
"Investigators: Kingsley Shacklebolt; Minister for Magic; David Aaron Williamson, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Alfred Madden Warner, Senior Auror; Jordan Aidan Greengrass, Practicing Auror."
"You are Harry James Potter of Number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" asked Williamson.
"Yes," Harry said, feeling a strong sense of déjà-vu from his trial four years ago.
"Were you present at The Battle of Hogwarts, of May second?"
"Yes," said Harry, rolling his eyes.
"Tell us what happened," said Williamson, rolling a quill between his fingers.
"Well, I killed Voldemort,” said Harry sarcastically, earning a barely noticeable choke of laughter from Ginny.
“Don’t get smart, Mr. Potter, we are on your side. Do tell us what happened please,” said the Auror on Williamson’s left.
“Thank you, Greengrass,” said Williamson. “Now, Potter, tell us where have you been in the last year. We have been looking for you all over and ““
“I don’t think this is relevant,” said Harry curtly. “You wanted to ask me about Voldemort’s downfall, not about what I did, right?”
“Yes, but your whereabouts were the Ministry’s conc-“
“Williamson, just get on with this,” growled Kingsley.
Williamson sighed. “Fine, Potter, let’s start with how you got into Hogwarts.”
The investigation took close to two hours of gruelling questions with Harry refusing to answer a large portion of them. Even though it was only two hours, Harry felt as if he was sitting there for ages. The heat and the need to cover up so many of the stories, so many parts of it, was taking its toll and Harry was getting tired.
When it was finally declared over by Williamson, Harry jumped to his feet and almost ran to the door. Kingsley and Williamson escorted them through the floor and to the lifts.
Just before they entered the lift, Williamson turned to Harry and shook his hand. “Thank you,” he said, looking sincere and weary.
Harry nodded just as the lift arrived and entered it, feeling Ginny’s hand slipping into his once again. Kingsley, much to Harry’s bewilderment, entered the surprisingly empty lift with them.
“Would you mind take a little detour to my office, Harry?” asked Kingsley as soon as the door closed. “There are some things I’d like to discuss with you… some things I would like to know… not as the Minister, but as a member of the Order and a friend.”
Harry, feeling he owed Kingsley at least some answers, nodded. A slightly tense silence descended upon the little group as the lift moved upwards.
“Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff,” said the witch’s voice. Kingsley, Harry, and Ginny stepped out and saw two witches running towards them, glancing at each other hastily while they ran. Harry took a step back, but Kingsley chuckled.
The witches arrived, panting, and almost immediately started talking together.
“Sir “ I just got a notice ““
“The administrator of Nurmengard just confirmed-“
“They are willing to host the prisoners-“
“Abbey! Myra!” the women immediately stopped talking and looked at Kingsley, still panting. “What happened?”
The witches started talking again, and Kingsley shushed them. “Myra “ please tell me everything,” he said and led the way towards what Harry assumed was his office. Harry and Ginny followed close behind. Much to Harry’s surprise and relief, Kingsley’s assistants stood very close to Kingsley, and apparently didn’t take notice of them at all.
“The administrator of Nurmengard Prison just sent in a note telling that he is willing to host prisoners for a while and that he will reinforce the prison with more guards for it,” said Myra in one breath.
“If Abbey wasn’t so eager to tell you this, she might have noticed that he added a P.S,” she said victoriously, pointing her gaze at the seemingly disappointed Abbey. “He said that there will be a possibility that he will need reinforcement for the guards if the prison will be full.”
Kingsley smiled and thanked them as he, Harry and Ginny entered the office. Abbey and Myra hurried out of the room, bickering, still not noticing Harry and Ginny.
“They are very competitive,” said Kingsley with a chuckle. “They know one of them will be promoted to Senior Undersecretary and the other will remain Junior or move to another department, that’s why they’re so eager to please me,” he said, sighing amusedly.
He sighed again and sat on his large cushioned chair while motioning Harry and Ginny to do the same. Harry looked around the office and noticed some things that were probably left the way they were when Scrimgeour and Thicknesse were Ministers.
Small burn marks were scattered randomly on the floor, marking where, Harry assumed, people were tortured, the wooden shelves looked worn and several nasty looking jars graced them, unrecognizable jelly-like materials floating inside.
He felt Ginny shudder a little as she noticed the odd-looking jars and Kingsley observing them silently.
“I’m keeping it there so we could investigate what it is when we have time,” he said, looking just as disgusted. “The Department of Potions and Plant Poisoning at St. Mungo's is swamped with an amazing number of questionable potions and mutated plants the Death Eaters invented,” he said, a crease between his eyebrows.
Looking at Harry, he continued. “We suspect Snape helped them there, he really was brilliant at Potions.”
“Snape was on our side,” said Harry, surprising both Ginny and Kingsley.
Surprised, Ginny looked at him, having not been told of Harry’s new allegiance. Kingsley looked at him in complete surprise and opened his mouth to reply, but Harry beat him to it.
“Just before he died he gave me some of his memories; he was on our side, although he had to give some information to Voldemort so it won’t look suspicious,” he said, staring quite defiantly at Kingsley.
“He was a master at Legilimency, Harry, he could have given you false memories,” said Ginny, frowning at him.
“He was dying…he was barely capable of holding my hand, let alone create false memories,” Harry said, certain he was right. Snape could not have created them on the verge of death…it was impossible…Snape’s last request of Harry to look into his green eyes seemed to confirm his story.
“Why would he do that?” said Harry in an afterthought. “He knew he was seconds from dying, why would he want to give me those memories that would assure me, of all people, that he’s innocent?” he said. “He wasn’t one to care what others thought of him.”
Kingsley seemed to contemplate Harry’s words. “What did he show you that made you so certain?” he asked, staring interestedly at Harry. “I don’t recall you being so fond of him…nor the other way around.”
“He…” started Harry, not at all finding it fair to expose Snape like that, even if he was a greasy, selfish git. After all, he spent all his life trying to hide that secret.
“It won’t leave this room,” said Kingsley reassuringly, as if reading Harry’s mind. “I just want to know what makes you say that so confidently.”
Harry looked at Kingsley, trying to assure himself he was not doing the wrong thing.
“He was in love with my mum,” said Harry, feeling somewhat uncomfortable and embarrassed all of a sudden. “They were friends from the time they were kids.”
“And he fell in love with her?” asked Ginny doubtfully, looking slightly pityingly at Harry. “I can’t imagine Snape ever being kind to someone, let alone love!”
Harry made an odd jerk like a nod and a shrug and felt his cheeks heat up. “Let’s… let’s not talk about it right now,” he said, hoping to explain this later, when he would get a little more comfortable around the issue.
“All right,” said Kingsley and straightened up in his chair. “You’re probably wondering why I brought you here,” he said, looking at Harry.
“I have a faint idea,” muttered Harry.
Kingsley ignored him. “I know that what you told us in the investigation wasn’t the complete story, but since I was at the battle, I could see what really happened in the Pensieve afterwards, and I have some questions regarding to things you told Voldemort.”
Harry groaned, it was not as if he didn’t know it was coming - he had expected it -but the concept of relaying all this information to Kingsley seemed highly irresponsible.
“Would you mind joining me at the Pensieve?” asked Kingsley and took a very large Pensieve off one of the shelves, putting it on the table. Harry was a little taken aback. It was one thing to answer questions, but to re-live it all again was something else entirely.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” said Ginny, looking at Harry and then at Pensieve. “It’s only been a week; can’t you just hold it off?”
“I’m afraid not, Ginny,” said Kingsley, making a point of calling her by her first name. “We need to move on from the battle and start rebuilding. I don’t want to focus on what happened, but on what will happen,” he said in a very dignified, Minister-like way.
“Then why do you need Harry to tell you all this?” asked Ginny, her face reddening. “He already attended the investigation, this is-“
“I won’t do it,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It’s just too much right now. Can’t you just ask me some questions?”
Kingsley sighed and put his hands on the Pensieve, looking inside the silvery content sadly. “If that’s what you want, I won’t force you to do it, Harry. I just want some questions answered.”
Harry closed his eyes for a second. “Then ask me questions, I don’t want to see it again…I want to move on,” he said painfully, gripping the chair.
There was silence for a few seconds as Kingsley continued to watch the Pensieve and Harry looking at his knees.
“During the battle you said some things that made me wonder,” Kingsley started. “I’ve heard of Horcruxes before, of course, but it was so brief, I had to look it up again.”
Harry sighed inwardly as Kingsley kept talking. “Did Voldemort make one? Is that what you searched for the last year?”
“He didn’t make one,” said Harry, making Kingsley lift an eyebrow in question. “He made seven.”
Kingsley’s gasp of surprise was almost comical. “S-SEVEN?!” he stuttered. “Seven?! But that’s impossible! One is unimaginable!”
Harry kept silent as Kingsley spluttered silently. It was better to let him do the thinking than let him answer questions.
Kingsley seemed to collect his thoughts, still looking baffled. “I-I… are you sure? SEVEN?”
“Yes… Ron, Hermione, and I destroyed four, Dumbledore one and Neville one.”
Kingsley looked faint. “Neville? Longbottom?”
“Yes, he killed Nagini, Voldemort’s snake.”
“It was a Horcrux?” he asked weakly.
“A bit slow today, huh?” said Ginny cheekily.
“It’s not funny, Ms. Weasley! One Horcrux is unbelievable, seven is…”
A lengthy silence followed as Kingsley gathered his thoughts. Harry and Ginny glanced at each other every few minutes.
“Is that all?” asked Harry rather rudely. But for his defense, he thought, he really was desperate to go.
Kingsley seemed to step out of his stupor as he nodded. “What was that thing about the Elder Wand? Isn’t that something from the Tale of the Three Brothers?” said Kingsley, looking puzzled.
“It is, but I’m afraid that that’s one thing best kept in silence and not be told,” said Harry, fearing the chase after the wand will start again.
“Harry-“
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you anymore,” said Harry and stood up, followed by Ginny. Kingsley stood up and exhaled.
“Thank you again,” he said. “I wished you could’ve said more.”
“So do I, Kingsley. So do I.”
As Harry and Ginny passed through the halls of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry took time to relax after a day of grueling and quite annoying questions. He did not think Kingsley was fair by calling and questioning him like that.
“You know,” said Ginny, momentarily distracting Harry. “That Pensieve is a really good idea.”
“What do you mean?” asked Harry, amused.
“A few decades from now you wouldn’t be able to remember all that, it’d be a good idea to store it somewhere other than your thick head,” she smirked.
Harry made a face at her. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t have a Pensieve, though.”
“You don’t need a Pensieve to store your memories,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes.
“Where shall we go now?” asked Harry, deliberately changing the subject.
“I was thinking maybe we should go to see Teddy,” she said a little sadly. “Poor thing just lost his parents.”
Harry was silent. The irony was making him itch. An orphaned baby who was left at his aunt’s door and was treated as nothing more than a washrag and an orphaned baby who was left at his grandmother’s house, who was going to grow up with as much love and care as possible.
And at that moment, Harry decided that Teddy would not be like him. He would see to that. He was his godfather after all. He would get a place to live and Teddy would come see him and Ginny…
“Well?” asked Ginny, looking questioningly at Harry’s continuous silence. “What do you say?”
“Yes, let’s go,” he said, noticing they arrived at the entrance and he didn’t even notice.
Teddy would be different.
A/N: Finally, the chapter is done! I’m sorry it took so long, I had two versions of this chapter, one with Harry going into the Pensieve and this one, and I had to choose and change some things so it took time. It’s getting a bit harder to write even though some days it just flows out of my fingers. Hope you enjoyed it and sorry about last chapter, I know it was supremely depressing…