Harry felt himself being lifted into strong arms. He knew he was only barely conscious; images of the battle played in his mind. He was carried down to the Hospital wing, and placed gently on a bed. He felt his glasses being removed (how in the world had they survived intact?) and a blanket laid over him. A warm, soothing potion was put to his lips; he drank. He heard a beloved voice. “You’re safe now, Harry. Rest. Rest. . . .” His thoughts slipped peacefully away.
When Harry awoke, the sun was fading; a brilliant pink and gold light was filling the room. Harry opened his eyes and found his glasses on the bedside table. There, dozing in the chair by his bed, sat Ginny. Her red hair was bathed in the sunset light. She looked like an angel. Harry didn’t want to wake her. He could hardly believe this sweetly sleeping creature was the same witch who had so recently vanquished several Death Eaters down in the caverns, fighting as fiercely as any warrior.
While Ginny slept on, Harry glanced around the room. Every bed was filled, and those who were not as badly injured were helping Madame Pomfrey attend to the wounded. Harry felt well enough to get up. He quietly slipped out of bed, gave his slumbering princess a kiss on the forehead, and went to see if he could help.
He found Hermione sponging down a feverish Professor Lupin. “Harry!” she squealed when she saw him, and put her arms around him. They held each other a long time. Hermione stepped back to appraise her friend. “Harry, should you be up?” She spoke in a whisper so as not to disturb the professor.
“I’m fine, Hermione. Really,” he added at her skeptical look. "How’s Remus?”
Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Madame Pomfrey’s given him several different potions. She says one of them is causing this fever, but I don’t know, Harry. He doesn’t look good, does he?”
She was right. Professor Lupin still had the gray look he had worn in the underground chamber. He was very still. Harry sat down next to him on the bed. He took Hermione’s cloth and began cooling Lupin’s face. “Remus,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t die, Remus. I need you.” His tears fell on the professor’s face. Harry wiped them away with the cool cloth. He felt Hermione’s reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sure he’ll be okay, Harry,” she said. He nodded.
“Have you heard anything about Snape, Hermione?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Professor Snape, Harry.” Dumbledore had joined them at Lupin’s bedside. “How are you feeling, my boy?” The headmaster looked tired, but Harry remembered how the older man had effortlessly carried him down to the Hospital wing earlier, and knew that Dumbledore had reserves of strength the rest of them could only wish for.
Harry looked into the eyes of the greatest wizard in the world, and saw love, understanding, and a great deal of compassion. “I’m fine, Professor. Better than ever.” Harry knew his heart had been changed by his experience at the underground lake. He found that, although he could never forgive Bellatrix Lestrange, his heart had not been poisoned with hatred of her. All he felt now was love for his friends, these people who had become his family.
Dumbledore nodded. “Well, as for Professor Snape “ I’m afraid it’s too soon to tell, but I choose to remain optimistic. Severus has a strong mind, and if he saw the spell coming, he may have been able to protect himself before it hit.
“Has he been sent to St. Mungo’s?” Harry remembered his old professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, behind the locked doors of the closed ward.
“No, Harry; we don’t feel St. Mungo’s is a safe place anymore. They’ve had too many dealings with Lucius Malfoy to be trusted.”
The name Dumbledore spoke brought a memory back to Harry. “Professor “ I had a dream about him when I was sleeping earlier!”
The headmaster gave Harry an odd look. “Lad, I gave you a potion for dreamless sleep. You couldn’t have had a dream.”
Harry lowered his voice. “I don’t think it was a real dream “ I think it came from Voldemort.”
“But Harry, didn’t your scar hurt?” asked Hermione.
“No, that’s what’s weird. But I saw Lucius Malfoy lying on the ground in front of Voldemort. He was bleeding pretty badly, and Voldemort was punishing him, making him an example. Professor,” Harry spoke even more quietly, “I think Malfoy is dead.”
Dumbledore cast his eyes to the floor. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with sorrow. “What about Draco, Harry? Could you tell what happened to him?”
Harry searched his memory for a glimpse of his long-time rival. “No, Sir, Draco wasn’t there. I’m sorry.”
“That’s alright, Harry. It is curious that you felt nothing in your scar. Were you aware of any emotion from the Dark Lord?”
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, the effort creasing his brow. He shook his head. “Nothing. What do you think it means, Professor?”
“I don’t know, Harry. Perhaps the potion I gave you clouded your encounter with Voldemort, or perhaps the link between you is weakening. But let us not worry over this now. There are other’s here who wish to visit with you.” Dumbledore inclined his head, and Harry turned to find Ron at his elbow, sporting a most magnificent black eye.
“Ron!” Harry grabbed his friend, both of them grinning like fools. Then Harry held Ron at arm’s length for a better look. “How’d you get that, Mate? It’s brilliant!”
“You were bloody brilliant,” returned Ron. “What made you dive in front of that killing curse? I thought you’d gone mad!”
Harry shrugged. “Dunno “ just seemed the right thing to do, I guess. Besides, according to the prophecy I’m bloody well invincible, aren’t I? Just as long as it’s not Voldemort throwing the curse.”
Hermione gasped. “Oh Harry, don’t even joke about that!”
“Lighten up, Hermione,” said Ron. “I think if anyone’s earned the right to joke about Voldemort, Harry has.”
“Hey, you said his name! And you didn’t even faint,” said Harry.
They all laughed.
Harry and the others helped in the Hospital wing until long after dark. Ginny had awakened and found Harry. She pulled him behind a screen and gave him a long, lingering kiss. Harry’s heart soared. He knew, whatever lay ahead, that he had Ginny’s love, and the love and care of all his loyal friends.
Harry and Ginny stayed with Professor Lupin, sitting together on the edge of his bed. His fever had broken, and Harry thought his color was a little better. But he still had not stirred, nor opened his eyes.
Many of the injured students and teachers were starting to come around. Neville was begging Madame Pomfrey to get out of bed “ he still had to finish his potions essay for classes the next day. She informed him that Professor Dumbledore had postponed classes for one more day, in light of all that had happened. This news was greeted with cheers all around the room “ except from Hermione, who looked extremely disappointed.
Harry jumped when Professor Lupin spoke. “Can’t a man get any sleep around here?” he muttered.
“Remus!” Harry leapt up from the bed. “Ginny, get Madame Pomfrey “ hurry!” Ginny went to find the nurse, while Harry knelt down next to Professor Lupin. He reached up and brushed the graying hair out of the pale man’s eyes.
“How’re you feeling, Remus?” Harry asked, when Lupin was able to focus blearily on him.
“Like I’ve been run over by a hippogriff,” he answered. His eyes perused Harry, and for a moment he focused more clearly. “You took a killing curse, Harry. How did . . . ?”
Harry replied to his unfinished question. “Dumbledore reckons it’s because of the prophecy,” he said simply.
“Ah, of course.” The professor settled back onto his pillow.
Harry cleared his throat. “Remus, I was so worried about you. I was afraid . . .”
“...that I’d gone to join Sirius? Not yet, Son. But “ I saw him, Harry. For just a moment, I saw him. He told me ... that it wasn’t my time.”
Harry could only nod.
It was getting late, and none of them had eaten in several hours. Dumbledore invited those who were able to come down to the Great Hall for a makeshift feast, promising to send food up to those still kept prisoner by Madame Pomfrey.
Harry found it difficult to leave the valiant friends who had fought so willingly beside him. Everyone in the Hospital wing, it seemed, wanted to talk to Harry, to touch him, to wish him well. How things have changed from only a year ago, Harry thought. But then, he had changed, too.
“Harry,” Ginny said from beside him, as she piled creamed turnips onto her plate, “have you noticed anything unusual about this feast?”
He looked around. “You mean besides that it’s under-populated?”
She laughed. “No, silly. Look again.”
Harry scrutinized the Great Hall. Then he realized.
Students from all different houses were sitting together. Ravenclaws at the Hufflepuff table, Gryffindors sitting next to Ravenclaws “ even a few Slytherins had joined the other tables. Harry gave a low whistle.
“You’ve done it, Harry,” said Hermione, with tear-bright eyes. “Remember what Professor Dumbledore said about how we need to stand together? How we all need to accept each other’s differences to fight the war against Voldemort? Just look!”
Ginny laid her head on Harry’s shoulder. “We’re going to do it, you know, Harry. We’re going to win.”
He smiled down at her. “I know. C’mon,” he said, grabbing his plate. “Let’s go sit with the others.”
“Wha’?” said Ron, his mouth full to six times its normal capacity.
Harry had just finished his treacle tart while listening to Justin Finch-Fletchly explain how he happened to be growing roses from his ears (“Madame Pomfrey says they should be gone by morning”), when Professor Dumbledore approached him.
“Harry,” he said, “you have a visitor waiting in my office. As soon as you’re done with your meal, could you join us there, please?”
“Sure, Professor.” Harry looked at the others. “I wonder who could be visiting me? Everybody I know is already here.”
“Maybe it’s the new Minister of Magic, come to give you the Order of Merlin,” joked Ron. Harry punched him in the arm.
“Must be Rita Skeeter for the Daily Prophet. Red-Haired Prefect Defeats 1000 Death Eaters Single-Handedly.”
Ginny nudged him. “Well, you’ll never know if don’t get up there, Harry!”
He pushed aside his plate. “Guess I’ll see you up in the common room, then.” Harry headed up to the headmaster’s office for the third time that day. Had it only been just this morning that they had found it in such disarray? It felt like a week had gone by.
Harry arrived at the great oak door and knocked. The door swung open and he stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was that Dumbledore’s office was back to normal; the former headmasters and mistresses were all sleeping peacefully in their frames on the wall, and Fawkes was roosting quietly on his perch. The second thing he noticed was....
“Aunt Petunia?” Harry stood, rooted to the floor. Aunt Petunia, here? Harry felt sure that the sky outside must have turned green, and the lake had dried up. His aunt, here at Hogwarts, was just as unlikely.
Aunt Petunia's voice sounded odd, strained. “H“hello, Harry. I expect you’re surprised to see me.” She fiddled with the gloves in her hand, and seemed to have a hard time looking Harry in the eye.
Professor Dumbledore spoke. “Harry, I notified your aunt that you had been injured, and she asked to come and see you.”
“Oh.” Harry was still confused. Why would Aunt Petunia care if Harry had gotten hurt? “Well, I’m . . .I’m fine.”
“Oh, well . . .good. That’s good.” She looked as awkward as Harry felt. To his relief, Dumbledore stepped in.
“Why don’t you both sit down? Petunia, may I offer you some tea? Or perhaps brandy?”
Petunia sat stiffly in the chair the headmaster offered. “Yes, please “ brandy, thank you.”
Harry could still not figure out why she was here. Then all at once he remembered the photographs she had sent him, and the note. He wondered whether Dumbledore had sent her any more letters after last year, and what they might have said.
Petunia sipped her brandy nervously. Professor Dumbledore produced a plate of biscuits, and left them on the table between Harry and his aunt. Then he excused himself to go “check on the students in the Hospital wing.” The closing of the door sounded like the echo of a tomb.
Harry spoke first. “So . . .how’re Uncle Vernon and Dudley?” he asked her.
“Fine . . . they’re fine. They don’t know I’m here,” she added.
“Umm . . . Aunt Petunia, why are you here?” Harry asked gingerly. He felt as if he were treading on eggs.
She set her glass on the table and looked directly at Harry for the first time. “As your headmaster told you, I wanted to see that you were all right.” Her eyes lingered on his face.
“But . . .why?”
Petunia rose from her chair and paced nervously. “Harry, I know I’ve not treated you well in the past. Things have been . . difficult . . .for me. I’m not the monster you think me. Or . . .maybe I am.” She returned to her chair and sat down heavily, her hand over her eyes. Harry had to ask her.
“Then . . . why did you? Not treat me well, I mean.” He wasn’t sure she would answer, but she did, her head down, her eyes hidden.
“When you appeared on our doorstep that night, Harry, everything I had worked so hard to achieve just disappeared. I had spent years pretending that the magical world didn’t exist, or that even if it did, it had nothing to do with me. I could never compete with Lily. She was beautiful, smart, compassionate. And our parents’ favorite. Look at me. I was always just ‘plain Petunia.’”
“The photographs you sent “ you and my mother were smiling, happy. You didn’t always hate her, did you?”
Petunia’s eyes met Harry’s once more. “No. No, Harry, I didn’t always hate her. In fact, when we were girls together, we were great friends. We did everything together. Then she got that. . .that letter, and off she went to Hogwarts. We stayed close, even so. She wrote to me often. She told me about James, how she was falling in love with him. And she told me about the Dark Wizard who was starting to cause trouble. She wrote that she and James were joining a special group to fight against him. And she never came home after that. Even when my parents died in a car crash, she never came home.”
Harry could hear the bitterness in his aunt’s voice. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more, and yet was riveted by her words.
“I knew about the war. I knew about You-Know-Who. I knew your mother and father were fighting against him. Our parents had been so proud of her, bravely going off to battle. My father “ your grandfather “ had come from a Wizarding family. His father had been a squib, and married a Muggle. His brother “ I never learned his name “ had done some terrible thing that landed him in Azkaban.” Petunia looked up to face Harry. “That’s how I knew about the wizard prison. My great-uncle was never spoken of in our family, except in whispers."
Now that Harry's aunt had begun telling him of her connection to his world, she seemed unable to stop. She's kept it all a secret for so long, Harry thought. It must be a relief for her to finally tell someone.
“I knew that I didn’t want anything to do with magic or the Wizarding world. Lily never knew how much my parent’s missed her, how badly they wanted her to come home. She never knew how much they worried about her. It aged them. I was the only one there to take care of them when their health started to fail. Then . . .the crash.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “He was looking for her that night. Voldemort. He tried to get to Lily through our parents. He did some kind of magic, and the car they were in just . . .blew up. There was nothing left.”
Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Voldemort murdered your parents?”
Petunia’s whole body sagged with the weight of grief. “Yes,” she choked.
She was like him. She was just like him. Harry never knew. “Aunt Petunia “ I’m sorry.”
“Harry.” She reached out a hand to him, and he took it hesitantly. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I was so angry with my sister for getting herself killed. I missed her so much. I was afraid if I let myself care about you, that I would only get hurt again. Especially since I knew you were The Boy Who Lived. I was angry that you survived and my sister didn’t. Can you ever, ever forgive me?” She was crying now. Harry had never seen his aunt cry.
Harry swallowed. Forgive her? Forgive her for fifteen years of brutality? For fifteen years of neglect, of poverty, of starvation? Of loneliness? He didn’t know if he could.
He heard a rustle of soft wings, and Fawkes settled himself on Harry’s shoulder. Harry saw tears in the eyes of the Phoenix. He reached for the bird, and transferred him to his aunt’s lap, much to her surprise. Fawkes put his face up to the crying woman, and let his tears fall on her heart. She looked up at Harry, startled.
“I do forgive you, Aunt Petunia.”
Harry had not heard Dumbledore re-enter the room. He crossed silently to his desk and sat, beaming at both of them. Petunia smiled tentatively back.
“I see you two were able to have a good talk,” the headmaster said.
Harry looked at his aunt. “Yes, Sir,” he said with a smile. “A good talk.”
“Excellent. I trust it will not be the last. Harry, I’m sure you will be pleased to hear that Severus is awake, and seems to have his memories intact. He asked me to thank you for him.”
Harry's eyes closed with relief, and fatigue. He was glad of this news, but didn’t know how much more he could take in one day.
“And now, Petunia, I have something I have wanted to tell you for many, many years. Your sister asked me not to give you this news until the proper time, because she was afraid it might put you in danger. It seems to me that the proper time has now come.” Dumbledore leaned over his desk and looked intently into the eyes of Petunia Dursley.
“You, dear woman, are a witch.”
Harry returned to the common room that night with glazed eyes. He could only stare at Ron, Hermione and Ginny when they asked him about his visitor.
Ginny took his hand. "Harry? Are you okay? What is it?"
Harry looked into her brown eyes, so full of concern. He brushed her flaming hair back and answered, "nothing, Ginny. I'll tell you in the morning, okay?"
"Looks like Christmas break is finally over," said Ron, as he struggled with the last few lines of his essay.
"Yeah," Harry said, flopping into an armchair by the fire. "And I hope we never have another one like it."