Chapter Six: Farewell
The bright summer sun reflected off the dark water, throwing its sparkling reflection onto the gathering of witches and wizards who mingled on the grassy banks of the black lake. It was a somber gathering, for they had come together to recognize and mourn those lost in the war with Voldemort. Some wept, while others were silent, still unable grieve for the devastating loss of a loved one. Some gathered in small groups and quietly remembered friends and family now gone, while others remained apart with their private memories of those lost to the war.
Ron Weasley stood alone under the beech tree where he had sat for many long and happy hours with his friends. He absently tossed small stones into the lake, remembering the lazy days he had spent with Harry doing the same thing. It was yet another sad reminder of all that he had lost, of all that had changed, and finally he stopped, unable to continue. He stared across the water as tears stung his eyes. He wiped them away, angry once more at the heartbreaking outcome of the final battle.
“I can’t believe you’re gone,” he whispered to the water, letting his head fall to his chest and taking deep breaths to stop the sobs threatening to overwhelm him yet again. He felt a small hand take his own, and glanced down into his sister’s pale face. Ginny’s broken arm had been mended, but the emotional toll of the battle was written plainly across her features. Her eyes were red, her cheeks drawn, and her eyes dull. She looked, Ron thought, exactly like he felt: devastated.
“Hi,” she said, leaning on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and held her close. She did not cry. “Harry would have hated that speech,” she said softly, her voice hinting at a gentle laugh.
Ron nodded, a small smile coming to his lips as he considered what Harry would have thought about the funeral. “Absolutely,” he agreed, forcing his own voice to sound light. “It was terrible, he would have been horrified.” Ron knew it was true: Harry would have been embarrassed to hear the grand and heroic things people had said about him, no matter how right they were. Harry would not have wanted such a grand send-off.
“I liked it,” said Ginny as she sighed sadly. “We needed it,” she added. “It’s important for us to remember him, and say good bye.”
“I still can’t believe it,” Ron said quietly. “I just don’t understand what happened.”
“He saved us,” said a quiet voice behind them. Ron turned and saw Hermione walking down the bank toward them. She looked sad and tired, but Ron noticed a strange light in her eyes, the kind she always got when she had discovered something important. “I think I know how,” she added breathlessly.
Ron and Ginny stared at her, mouths open. “What?” asked Ron, disbelieving. “How?”
“I found something in my robes that night, something I think Harry put there.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a long thin chain. Hanging from the end was a tiny silver hourglass, broken and empty of sand.
“It’s a Time-Turner!” exclaimed Ginny, taking it from Hermione’s hands. “How did you get it?”
“I told you, I think Harry put it there, before he. . .” she trailed off, unable to finish. Hermione swallowed hard before continuing. “I think he used it to go back in time. It explains everything! Lupin said when he first saw Harry on the field, he wasn’t hurt that badly; but later in the forest, he was gravely injured. I think Harry went back in time and fought the battle again.”
Ron stared at Hermione as if she were speaking another language; Ginny looked back and forth from Hermione to the Time-Turner, and sighed again.
“It doesn’t matter, he’s still gone,” she said quietly, handing it back to Hermione. “And the Time-Turner is broken, so we can’t go back and save him.” Hermione gave her a look of compassion, and impulsively embraced around the younger girl.
“I’m so sorry, Ginny,” she whispered. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier. But I think that’s what Harry did - he went back in time, to save us. Which means he’s even more of a hero than anyone knows.”
“She’s right,” said a deep voice from beside them. They jumped and turned to see Remus Lupin standing quietly, staring out across the lake. He was as rumpled and graying as ever; his face had more lines, and he looked more tired than any of them.
“I am?” whispered Hermione. “How do you know?”
Lupin sighed, and looked at them sorrowfully. “I just found out, from . . . well, come with me. I was asked to find you.” Lupin turned and led the way back to the castle. Ron took Hermione’s hand and followed, his arm still around Ginny’s shoulders.
They walked through the dark silent halls without a word, each wrapped up in their own bleak thoughts of the funeral. Lupin led them to the seventh floor corridor, to the stone gargoyle that guarded the passage to the Headmistress’s office. “Bollocks,” he said, and the gargoyle moved aside. The four of them stepped onto the moving staircase and made their way to the oak doors that led into the Headmistress’s office. The door was slightly ajar, but Lupin knocked anyway.
“Come in,” said a familiar voice, and they entered.
Professor McGonagall was not seated behind the large wooden desk, but in front of it. She stood and turned toward them as they walked into the circular room, their mouths hanging open. Behind her over the desk hung the portrait of Professor Dumbledore. He was smiling at them, but it was not the late headmaster that they stared at.
It was Harry.
He was examining the sword of Godric Gryffindor on the shelf behind Professor Dumbledore’s desk, his back to them. Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Harry turned around. He gave them a big grin, as Hermione gasped and Ginny’s hands flew to her mouth.
“Hi,” he said, still smiling.
“Harry,” breathed Hermione. “How is this possible? You’re - ”
“Yes, I know,” replied Harry, not finishing her sentence. “And I’m sorry. I know it must be hard.”
Ginny gave a choked sob and Ron just continued gaping at the portrait. “But how did you get into Professor Dumbledore’s portrait?” Hermione asked, obviously grasping at hard facts to ground her.
Harry actually laughed. “Dobby painted my picture during our fifth year. Not an official portrait, but it was good enough.”
Ron couldn’t help but snort as he thought about the red and green blob that Dobby had painted for Harry. He suddenly wanted to find the house elf and thank him with a hundred pairs of socks for this chance to see his best friend one more time. “It’s good to see you, mate,” he said, grinning as well. “Now tell us what happened.”
Harry looked at Professor Dumbledore, who nodded serenely. Harry sighed and came around the portrait desk to face them. “It’s complicated,” he began. He started from the beginning, remembering how he had woken on the battlefield and believed Ron was dead, along with so many others. He told them how he had run into the forest, only to see himself come crashing into the clearing. He related how he had come back to Hogwarts, and gotten the Time-Turner from Professor Dumbledore. Hermione interrupted him.
“You kept it then?” she asked Professor Dumbledore curiously. “After I turned it in at the end of my third year?”
The late headmaster nodded. “I did, as a precaution. Even then I felt relations with the Ministry were not going well, and that it might be best to keep one, just in case. In some ways I am glad I did, in others I am not.”
Harry looked at Professor Dumbledore again and swallowed, then continued. He told them that he had used the Time-Turner to go back to the beginning of the battle, and that he had set himself under a Disillusionment Charm. He recounted the moment he had finally entered the battle, firing at Bellatrix Black after she had hit Hermione. He revealed how he then had stalked the field, taking out Death Eaters from behind, including the woman who had broken Ginny’s arm.
“That was you?” Ginny asked, surprised, and Harry nodded. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I couldn’t,” Harry replied, looking sheepish. “I couldn’t let anyone know there were two of me there that day. I’m sorry, Ginny, I wanted to but I just couldn’t.” Ginny looked away, and Harry continued with another sigh.
He told them how he had stepped in again after Ron had been injured and Voldemort had captured Ron and Hermione. Harry stopped and took a deep breath before going on.
“I stopped Voldemort from torturing my past self, but Voldemort decided to kill you, because I had interfered. He used the Killing Curse. I jinxed you out of the way at the same time my past self jumped in front of you.”
Ron was stunned: he had been unconscious and remembered nothing about the Killing Curse. “Is that how you. . . ” He couldn’t finish the horrible thought.
Harry shook his head. “No, Snape blasted my past self out of the path of the curse as well. Voldemort was furious. He turned on Snape, and he probably would have killed him then if I hadn’t screwed up.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ginny, curious now. “What happened next?”
Harry told them how he had dropped his guard and allowed Bellatrix Black to wound him. “Voldemort turned on me. He used the Cruciatus Curse before I finally got his wand. Then he called in the Dementors. I didn’t think I was going to make it, because I couldn’t do the Patronus Spell.”
Hermione looked horrified. “They didn’t . . . ” Once more the question was left unasked, too horrible to even think about. Again Harry shook his head.
“No, they didn’t perform the Kiss. Snape saved me.” Harry revealed Snape’s Patronus and told them how it had chased the Dementors away. He told them how Voldemort had called for his wand and prepared to fire on Snape. “I threw a curse at Voldemort and he missed. Bellatrix Lestrange fired at me, but Snape killed her first. And then Voldemort killed Snape.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Ron, shocked. He had assumed Snape had been killed fighting as a Death Eater, not fighting for Harry.
“Snape died to save me,” Harry said simply. “He made his choice at the end. He died a hero as much as anyone else did.”
“Severus was always loyal to the Order,” added Dumbledore from behind Harry. “There was never any reason to doubt him.”
“But then why did he - ” began Hermione.
“That is another story,” said Dumbledore firmly. “Please continue, Harry.”
Harry glanced at the former headmaster again before turning back to the others in the office. “Voldemort was really angry then, and called the Dementors back. I thought for sure that would be it, until I heard it.”
“Heard what?” asked Ginny.
“Fawkes,” replied Harry, and Hermione gasped again. “Fawkes appeared next to Snape, singing. Voldemort killed him, but somehow the song was enough. I was finally able to cast a Patronus and drive the Dementors away.”
“Tell them about your Patronus, Harry,” suggested Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.
“It was a phoenix,” said Harry, with a lopsided grin. Dumbledore looked at him proudly, while Ginny simply nodded in amazement and Ron stared, dumbfounded.
“How did you kill Voldemort, then?” asked Hermione, her brows knit together and her voice puzzled. “If you were casting a Patronus, you couldn’t use the spell we found.”
“I didn’t,” replied Harry, frowning. “At least, the one of me casting the Patronus didn’t. It was my past self, the one Snape had knocked out. Snape had dropped my wand next to me “ or him “ and so I “ I mean, he - stood and cast the final spell. It worked: Voldemort was vanquished.”
For a moment everyone was silent, too stunned to speak. Harry had risked everything to go back to the past in order to save them all, and he had accomplished the near impossible in his final duel with Voldemort. It was Lupin who finally broke the silence.
“I found Harry on the field, and he ran into the forest. I followed, and for a moment I thought I saw two of him. That’s when I found his future self in the clearing, mortally injured.” Lupin’s voice sounded rough, and his eyes gazed sadly at the boy in the portrait.
“Yes,” said Harry, nodding to Lupin. “I knew I had to make it back there so I would see myself and know what to do.”
Hermione was shaking her head, her eyes bright. “I can’t believe you did all that, Harry.”
Harry grinned. “Like I said, it was complicated.”
“It was brilliant,” said Ron, grinning back.
“Did you put the Time-Turner in my pocket, then?” asked Hermione, wiping her eyes and taking the shattered hourglass from her robes.
“I hoped you would figure it out,” Harry replied. “I knew things would seem confusing, but if anyone could figure it out, you would.”
“She did,” said Ginny quietly, smiling at Hermione. Hermione returned the smile but did not say anything. Everyone was silent for a long moment until Dumbledore finally stood.
“It is almost time, Harry,” said Dumbledore softly, coming around the desk and placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Ron felt a sudden rush of panic.
“Time for what?” he demanded. “You’re not leaving, are you? We just found you, you can’t go!”
“I’m sorry, Ron,” said Harry, looking down at Ron from the portrait. “Dobby’s magic isn’t strong enough to keep me here. I’m not sure I understand it myself, but I can’t stay.”
“Magic works in mysterious ways,” said Dumbledore, his voice wise with compassion. Harry turned to face him and the late headmaster gazed at him for a very long time. “And yet magic has its reasons, and its rewards.” He clasped Harry close to him in a rare show of emotion. Ron saw the headmaster say something quietly to Harry, his eyes bright behind his spectacles, and Harry nodded in response. Then Harry turned back toward the room, and with one last glance back at Dumbledore, he stepped out of the portrait.
Ginny and Hermione cried out, and even Professor McGonagall gasped. Harry now stood in front of the great wooden desk, a pale, ghostly figure of his former self. He looked down at his shimmering form, at his indistinct hands and feet, then glanced up at Ron and grinned.
“This must be what Professors Binns feels like when he gets up in the morning,” he said with a wink. “It’s very weird.” He took a deep breath, and his expression grew serious as he walked toward Ginny.
Ginny’s face was wet with fresh tears. “What’s happening?” she whispered. She held her hand up to Harry’s face; it passed through his ethereal form, and she dropped her arm with a sob.
“I’m so sorry, Ginny,” said Harry, and his voice sounded rough. “I have to go now.” He took a step closer, reaching toward her face. He ran his ghostly hand across her cheek, and Ginny’s eyes went wide at his otherworldly touch. Harry leaned in to kiss her one last time. She gasped, tears spilling down her face, and touched her lips where Harry had kissed her. Harry whispered something in her ear, then pulled away with a sad smile and turned to Ron and Hermione.
Hermione was clutching Ron’s arm tightly, her shoulders shaking silently. Harry stepped in front of her, and reached down for her hand. She held it up to him, and he grasped it with ashen fingers. He put his other pale hand on her shoulder and brought his head to rest on her forehead. “Hermione,” he said softly as she wept. “I don’t know what I would have done without you all these years. You are the best friend anyone could possibly hope for.” He kissed her on the cheek and backed away, leaving Hermione with her hand to her face, crying quietly.
Ron swallowed hard as Harry finally turned to him. He felt his eyes begin to sting, and saw that Harry’s eyes were bright as well. They both laughed nervously as they blinked away tears. Hermione was now sobbing into Lupin’s robes, while Ginny stood with Professor McGonagall’s arm gently draped around her shoulders.
“I thought you were dead,” began Harry, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t bear it; I had to go back and change what happened. I had to save you.” Ron nodded, his throat too tight to speak. “I’m glad I did, Ron, but I’m so sorry you have to bear this burden now.”
“Harry, I - ” Ron croaked, but Harry held up a hand and smiled.
“It’s okay, I know,” he said simply. He stepped closer and moved to embrace his best friend. Ron felt a ghostly chill surround him, and then to his shock he felt the solid living warmth of Harry’s arms. With a gasp he returned the embrace, openly weeping into Harry’s shoulder; he felt Harry’s back heaving with sobs as well. Ron knew that as hard as it was to watch Harry go, his friend felt exactly the same way about leaving. It was a parting that was devastating in all its finality: Ron did not want to ever release his hold on Harry and lose his best friend again.
Harry finally stepped back, ghostly once more. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and grinned, and Ron couldn’t help but grin back. “Take care of them,” Harry said, inclining his head to both Ginny and Hermione. Ron nodded wordlessly. Hermione appeared by his side once more, her fingers entwined tightly in his, and Ginny stepped to his right, silently taking his other hand.
Harry nodded toward Professor McGonagall and Remus Lupin, who gave him a small bow, then turned back to Professor Dumbledore in the portrait. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice finally breaking.
“Good-bye, Harry,” said Dumbledore softly, and there was a muffled sniff from Professor McGonagall.
Harry blew out a long breath and nodded. He glanced over his shoulder one last time at his friends and smiled, then turned back as if he had heard something. Ron thought there was a ghostly murmur in the air.
“Mum? Dad?” whispered Harry, his eyes suddenly bright with love. A tremendous smile came over his face as he opened his arms wide and slowly disappeared. The sound of joyful laughter filled the office even as those left behind wept with grief.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny enveloped each other in a fierce hug. Harry was truly gone now, but they took comfort from the knowledge that he was finally with his parents. He had fulfilled his destiny, and moved on to a place full of love and happiness. Those left behind would mourn his passing in a peaceful world because of his selfless sacrifice.
With a dull ache in his heart that he knew would always be there, Ron finally pulled back from the embrace. He took a deep breath as he kissed Hermione’s forehead and wrapped his arm around Ginny’s shoulders once more. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s go home.” Quietly he led them from the office, to return to the friends and family waiting for them by the banks of the lake. Professor McGonagall and Remus Lupin followed silently.
As the door closed behind them, Professor Dumbledore returned to his desk in the portrait on the wall. He closed his eyes and a small tear trickled down his face. “Farewell, Harry,” he whispered to the empty room.
The only answer was the ghostly laughter that lingered in the air.
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A/N: I would like to once more thank myownmuggle for her wonderful beta work on this story, as well as J.K. Rowling for the opportunity to reunite Harry with his parents, however sad it has been for those of us left behind. I would also like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed this story: I appreciate your kind words and hope you have enjoyed the tale of Harry’s final journey.