Harry tugged at the neck of his dress robes, uncomfortably aware of the hundreds of eyes boring into the back of his head as the witches and wizards who had been invited to attend the awards ceremony filled the Great Hall.
“Harry, stop fidgeting!” Hermione hissed. “And Ron, for heaven’s sake, put your wand away, you’ve just turned that table-leg blue!”
“Oh, right, sorry,” Ron muttered, stuffing his wand back in his pocket. He had been twirling it absent-mindedly, looking just as uncomfortable as Harry felt.
Hermione, sitting between them, rolled her eyes, pulled out her own wand, quickly fixed the table-leg, and put it away again. She didn’t really look any happier than the two boys to be there. Though the three of them had agreed that Kingsley’s idea of giving out awards to those who had died so that their families would be able to echo the recognition at their funerals was a good one, they were not looking forward to the part where they would be accepting their own awards.
“Harry and I already have ‘Special Awards for Services to the School’,” Ron had said grumpily earlier in the week, when Kingsley had informed them that they would be sitting in specially reserved seats in the front row. “They ought to just give Hermione one, too, and call it even.”
Harry was surprised to discover that Hermione and even Ron were as reluctant to accept an award for what they had done as he himself. But Hermione had pointed out, “It’s like you said fifth year: It all sounds much cooler than it actually was. I expect they’ll be leaving out the parts where all we did was sit in a tent and bicker for months on end.”
Ginny had quickly become annoyed with all of them. “People just want to say thank you,” she had finally burst out last night. “They’re glad that you did it so they didn’t have to! And I think you three should just be grateful that you’ll actually be able to walk up and accept whatever award they want to give you. Not everyone will be able to do that.” She had glared at them all before furiously wiping the tears away with her sleeve. Properly shamed into silence by the thought of Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Colin, and the others who would be receiving posthumous awards the next day, none of them had complained again.
But though he had seen the truth of her words, Harry was still uncomfortable sitting there, waiting to hear whatever speech Kingsley was going to give. Harry had met with the Minister several more times over the past week, to give more details of exactly what he, Ron, and Hermione had done. He had done it mostly to ensure that the proper people got credit, good or bad, for what they had done, including Dobby, Snape, Umbridge, and Fenrir Greyback. Neville had joined them once to give Kingsley a full account of what had been happening at Hogwarts; this had the double benefit of giving the Minister a list of people to keep tabs on and another list of people to reward for their courage under the Carrows' regime. Harry had to admit that if everyone who deserved it got one, the Order of Merlin would be a temporarily cheap commodity.
He was distracted from his thoughts by a soft hand on his arm. He caught a whiff of flowery scent as Ginny leaned forward and quickly kissed his cheek. “Just let them thank you and then you can move on with your life,” she whispered, giving his arm a squeeze. Harry reached over to grasp her hand, grateful again that she was there, that she still wanted to be with him, that she didn’t blame him for her brother’s death.
Ginny squeezed his arm again, then sat back up. She was sitting between her mother and George in the row behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were alone in the front row, a set-up that Harry was not thrilled about. Glancing back, Harry saw Ginny reach for George’s hand, where it was hanging limply at his side. He seemed surprised when she took it, but then gave her a small, tight smile. He saw Harry watching and almost managed a wink. Harry gave a tiny smile back.
Looking away from George, Harry examined the repaired Great Hall. He had to admit that it didn’t look as if there had ever been a battle fought in the place. It looked as it always had, the only strange thing today being the hundreds of golden chairs taking the place of the four long house tables and the golden stage in the place of the teacher’s table. Harry was reminded of the stage on which Gilderoy Lockhart had once stood at the first and last disastrous meeting of the Dueling Club. The walls of the Hall were hung with the banners displaying the symbols of the four houses, with the great banner of the Hogwarts crest hanging behind the stage, and black drapes interspersed throughout, in honor of the fallen. Harry had to admit that although he was loathing the event, it had been tastefully done.
The general noise of the crowd died suddenly as Kingsley walked onto the stage wearing sweeping purple robes, accompanied by McGonagall in emerald green. Half a dozen other witches and wizards followed them onto the stage; among them Harry recognized Griselda Marchbanks, the O.W.L examiner and member of the Wizengamot. He assumed that they must all be upper Ministry officials, probably the ones who had decided on the awards.
Kingsley stepped to the magnificent golden podium that had been erected in the middle of the stage.
“Welcome,” he said, his deep voice magically magnified so that it could be heard clearly even by those seated in the last row of golden chairs against the back wall. “A week ago today, a battle was fought at Hogwarts. It ended within this very room as Harry Potter defeated the self-styled Lord Voldemort.” Harry tried to ignore the rustling as hundreds of heads turned in his direction again. Hermione squeezed his hand and Harry returned the pressure, looking determinedly at Kingsley. The Minister continued, “Mr. Potter showed incredible bravery that day, but he was not the only one. We are here tonight to honor those who fought against Voldemort, both at the Battle of Hogwarts and before. Many of those we will be recognizing tonight gave their lives to end the reign of terror and prejudice under which we were all living.” Kingsley paused to look around at the crowd, many of whom seemed to be hanging on his every word. Though the Daily Prophet had been running stories almost exclusively dealing with the battle over the past week, many of the details remained unknown outside the castle. Harry wondered if many of those who had shown up today had done so, not to honor the fighters of Hogwarts, but in the hope of hearing firsthand what had happened. The thought disgusted him.
Kingsley was speaking again, and Harry forced himself to listen. “The courage that has been shown by the witches and wizards who will be crossing this stage is a true testament to everything good that the Order of Merlin was meant to represent. We will begin with the awards of the Order of Merlin, Third Class. I would ask those whose names are called to come forward onto the stage for the presentation.”
Among the recipients of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, were Charlie Weasley, Horace Slughorn, and the other reinforcements who had come shortly before the end of the battle. Other recipients were witches and wizards who had helped Muggle-born friends and family members avoid the Muggle-born Registration Commission, as well as those who had done their best to shield Muggle friends and neighbors from Death Eater attacks. Harry realized again how much else had been going on while they had been hunting Horcruxes, how many other people had been resisting Voldemort’s regime.
Kingsley reached the end of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, awards and moved immediately into the Order of Merlin, Second Class. These awards seemed to be going to all those who had actually been at the Battle of Hogwarts and he watched as one by one Luna, Hagrid, all of the Weasley’s besides Charlie and Ron (and Fred), Flitwick, Sprout, Firenze, Trelawney and many of the other teachers, Oliver Wood, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Cho, Lee, Dennis, Angelina, Alicia, Katie and the rest of Dumbledore’s Army (besides Zacharias Smith and Marietta Edgecombe), Madam Pomfrey, Madam Pince, Filch, and various other students and staff, crossed the stage to receive their medals. Professor McGonagall stood to receive hers from Kingsley and he received his from Griselda Marchbanks. Augusta Longbottom was the last to receive the Order of Merlin, Second Class, and she walked imperiously across the stage to take her medal from the Minister.
Many of those receiving the Second Class medal smiled or nodded at Harry as they crossed the stage, and he smiled back. This was the part of the ceremony he was happy to see, because he knew all of these awards were well-deserved. Augusta Longbottom actually stopped to shake his hand as she returned to her seat, saying, “Quite nicely done, Mr. Potter, I must say.”
Harry realized, as Mrs. Longbottom continued to her seat beside her grandson in the third row, that Neville had not been called up with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, or with his grandmother. He didn’t have time to dwell on this, though, as Kingsley was speaking again.
“We will now move on to the Order of Merlin, First Class. This is a high honor and reflects a level of bravery not often seen. We have chosen tonight to award it almost exclusively to those who sacrificed their lives in the pursuit of a better world. When a recipient’s name is called, I would like one member of each family to come up to receive the award for those who cannot come up here to receive it themselves.” Kingsley looked around, taking in the whole hall. “I would also like to request a moment of silence for each of the departed as their name is called.”
As family members approached the stage while Kingsley read off the names of the over fifty people who had died at the battle of Hogwarts, Harry realized that most of those packing the hall were not merely gawkers wishing to learn details of last week’s battle but the families and friends of those who were receiving awards. The place was full, not of those looking for macabre entertainment, but of those seeking comfort for the horrible losses they had sustained. He suddenly felt much better about the whole thing.
There weren’t many smiles from the family members receiving the posthumous First Class Order of Merlin medals. Some were in tears, particularly parents who received the award for their son or daughter, but others looked grimly proud as they accepted the medal and shook the Minister’s hand. Dennis Creevey, who accepted Colin’s award, seemed somewhere in-between. His small face was tear-streaked, but he held his head high as he shook Kingsley’s hand. He walked off the stage clutching the red velvet box so hard his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking.
Andromeda Tonks walked onto the stage with her grandson in her arms to receive Tonks’ and Lupin’s medals. Harry had gotten to meet his godson for the first time in the entrance hall shortly before the ceremony started. He was a happy, chubby baby who had changed his hair color to emerald green as he looked at Harry when Andromeda had handed him the baby to hold. It changed to the same purple as Kingsley’s robes when Andromeda approached the Minister. Kingsley tried to hand Andromeda the boxes containing the medals, but she shook her head.
“Their son will be accepting their awards,” she said quietly, holding up Teddy.
Kingsley didn’t protest, but instead opened each box and pinned the medals to the front of Teddy’s romper. He laughed and grabbed for the shiny things and there were smiles in the audience through tears. Andromeda nodded to Harry as she returned to her seat and Teddy, catching sight of him again, turned his hair green. Stifling a laugh, Harry turned back to the stage, wiping his sleeve quickly across his eyes.
Hagrid stepped up to accept a medal for Mad-Eye Moody. Harry was surprised but pleased. He and Kingsley hadn’t discussed Mad-Eye but Kingsley had been there that night when the old ex-Auror had died and he clearly hadn’t forgotten. Hagrid blew his nose loudly as he returned to his seat at the end of the row of Hogwarts teachers.
When Kingsley called Snape’s name, Harry was unsure whether he should go up. He doubted anyone else would, but his dilemma was solved by McGonagall, who stood up from her seat behind Kingsley and stepped forward to take the medal.
“We will be placing this in the head’s office,” she announced, “beneath his portrait.” She looked at Harry as she said it. They had had a rather lengthy discussion about this a few days ago. In the end, she had agreed with Harry that Snape’s portrait should hang beside the other headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts.
George crossed the stage when Kingsley said, “Fred Weasley.” George was stark white, but his hands were steady as he took the box containing the Order of Merlin, First Class, and shook Kingsley’s hand. There had been no debate among the Weasleys as to who would accept the award.
When George returned to his seat, Harry saw him open the box and read the medal, inscribed with Fred’s name. A tear splashed down onto the gold and Harry looked away quickly as George leaned into Ginny’s shoulder, silently sobbing.
Kingsley reached the end of the list of those who had died defending Hogwarts and fighting Voldemort. He paused before reading the next name. “I would like to give a brief introduction for the next person receiving the Order of Merlin, First Class. Two years ago, I was called to accompany then-Minister Fudge to Hogwarts to assist in dealing with some truants who were causing a great deal of trouble for the then-High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge. Apparently, these students had started a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts society due to the fact that they were learning no actual defense from Madam Umbridge. They called themselves ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ and were led, at the time, by Harry Potter.” Kingsley paused again. “This group was reinstated at the beginning of this school year, in order to undermine the Carrows, the Death Eaters who were managing discipline here at Hogwarts. However, due to the fact that the former leader, Mr. Potter, was then known as Undesirable Number One and unable to return to Hogwarts, a new leader stepped forward for the group. I have spoken to quite a few members of Dumbledore’s Army, including Miss Ginny Weasley and Miss Luna Lovegood, and all have agreed that though many were involved in making their plans and carrying them out, there was one true leader: Mr. Neville Longbottom. Neville, if you could please come up to the stage.”
Neville was bright red as he hurried up to the stage and up the steps. Kingsley gestured for him to stand beside the podium as he continued to speak. “Not only has Neville been the leader of Dumbledore’s Army for the past year, he was also instrumental in the final downfall of Voldemort. Many who were here will remember Neville stepping forward to confront the Dark Lord and then using the sword of Godric Gryffindor to kill Voldemort’s snake, striking a fatal blow to the Dark Lord. Neville will today be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, because of his courage and his leadership. Thank you, Neville Longbottom,” Kingsley said, formally presenting Neville with his medal.
Harry could almost feel the heat coming off of Neville as he shook Kingsley’s hand, but there was a set to his shoulders that indicated the kind of confidence Harry had only rarely seen in him.
Neville went to leave the stage, but Kingsley stopped him. “Just a moment, please, Neville. Professor McGonagall, I believe you had something to add?”
“Thank you, Minister,” Professor McGonagall said crisply, stepping up to the podium. “Congratulations, Longbottom, that is most well-deserved.” Neville looked stunned, but pleased; praise from Professor McGonagall was rare, especially towards himself. “As the Minister has said, a group known as Dumbledore’s Army was established in this school several years ago. Mr. Potter, then Mr. Longbottom here were the leaders, but they were not the only members. There were twenty-eight original members of the group, but, for one reason or another, the final tally, according to Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood, was twenty-six true soldiers of Dumbledore.” Professor McGonagall smiled wryly. “As the Minister has said, the Order of Merlin is the highest honor that a witch or wizard can receive. Here at Hogwarts, the equivalent is the Award for Special Services to the school. Each of the students of Dumbledore’s Army, it is felt, deserves one. However, as that would rather overcrowd the trophy room, it has been decided that one larger than normal shield, containing all twenty-six names, will be awarded. So, if each member of Dumbledore’s Army would stand as I read your name.” Professor McGonagall unfurled a roll of parchment. “Those who will be receiving Special Awards for Services to Hogwarts are as follows: Hannah Abbott, Katie Bell, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Lavender Brown, Cho Chang, Michael Corner, Colin Creevey, Dennis Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, Hermione Granger, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Ernie MacMillan, Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, Harry Potter, Alicia Spinnet, Dean Thomas, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginevra Weasley, Ronald Weasley.” As Professor McGonagall finished reading the list, Professors Flitwick and Sprout walked onto the stage holding between them a massive golden shield. Harry, still standing in the front row, could see the words “Special Award for Services to Hogwarts” outlined around the top, then beneath it in equally large letters “Dumbledore’s Army.” Below that were two columns of names.
“Longbottom, if you wouldn’t mind accepting this award on behalf of everyone?” McGonagall said. Neville, still red but now beaming, took the massive shield from Sprout and Flitwick and lifted it as best he could.
“Dumbledore’s Army!” he said loudly.
There were resounding cheers from the others. Looking around, Harry saw them all, standing scattered around the hall. He couldn’t help it, he grinned too.
“Thank you, Professor McGonagall, Mr. Longbottom, and all of Dumbledore’s Army,” Kingsley said, stepping back up to the podium as Neville, still beaming, hefted the great shield down the steps and back towards his seat, his Order of Merlin clutched in his left hand. Everyone else took their seats again as Neville reached his.
Kingsley cleared his throat. “We have one final Order of Merlin, First Class to award tonight.”
There was a sudden, alert silence throughout the hall. All over, heads were flicking towards the front row where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. Harry was confused. One more Order of Merlin? Was Kingsley going to give one for all three of them to share, like had been done with Dumbledore’s Army?
Kingsley continued. “If Mr. Harry Potter could join me on the stage, please.”
Harry’s stomach dropped. He just sat there staring stupidly at Kingsley for a moment, until Hermione gave him a small push and whispered, “Go.” He stumbled as he got up from his chair, a whine of panic running through his mind. He thought that he had impressed upon Kingsley how essential Ron and Hermione had been to the Horcrux hunt, how he would have died, several times over, without them, how it had been Ron who had destroyed the locket, Hermione who stabbed the cup. No way was Kingsley going to award him the Order of Merlin and ignore them.
And all those other awards? Even if Kingsley had completely misunderstood everything that Harry had told him, surely just the fact that they were at the Battle of Hogwarts should have earned them Second Class. Or did Kingsley think that the Special Award for Services to the School as part of Dumbledore’s Army was enough?
The walk to the stage and up the steps toward the Minister felt every bit as long as the walk between the tables when his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. There was a low murmur going around the hall similar to that occasion as well.
“Kingsley,” Harry muttered as he approached the Minister, who did not look as though anything was amiss, “is there some mistake”?”
Kingsley cut across Harry, still addressing the audience. “I have called Mr. Potter up here so that he may accept the last Order of Merlin, First Class, being given this evening on behalf of someone who cannot be here to collect it for himself.”
Relief washed over Harry, followed instantly by even greater confusion. Kingsley had specifically said that he would be receiving an award, it was why Harry had been dreading the event so much, but if this was the last Order of Merlin, then it didn’t sound like he would be getting anything else. What was going on? And besides that, who was he accepting an award on behalf of? Harry ran through a list in his mind, but couldn’t think of anyone who hadn’t already received something. But Kingsley was speaking again and Harry directed his attention back to the man, hoping for answers.
Kingsley looked out at the crowd. “The recipient of the final Order of Merlin, First Class, for this evening is Dobby, the free house-elf.”
Harry could only stand there, stunned, as shock and joy rushed over him in equal portions. In a daze, he took the small box holding the medal that he knew would be inscribed with Dobby’s name. As he shook Kingsley’s hand, he almost thought he could hear a small voice squeak, “Harry Potter, sir!” and he smiled.
Dobby’s medal in hand, Harry made to leave the stage, but Kingsley stopped him, as he had stopped Neville. “Not quite yet, Harry,” he said. “We are nearly finished with our ceremonies for this evening. There are only three people left to recognize. If Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger would please join Mr. Potter and myself by the podium?”
They both stood up and moved towards the stage. Ron’s freckles were standing out starkly against his white face. Hermione was quickly wiping her eyes with her sleeve; tears had been streaming down her face as Dobby was given his award.
Harry felt a rush of affection for his two best friends as they walked across the stage towards him, looking incredibly nervous. As Hermione moved to stand beside him, he impulsively grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. She seemed surprised, but gave him a small, tight smile. Her fingers were shaking and Harry saw her grasp Ron’s hand on her other side. Ron gripped her hand so tightly his knuckles were white. Harry shot him a small smile and received a half-grimace in return.
“As I said when Dobby’s award was presented, we will not be giving out any further Orders of Merlin tonight,” Kingsley was saying. Harry didn’t feel concerned about this, but judging by the noises of the crowd in the hall, others did. There was a commotion of boos and hisses and yells that surprised him. He believed Kingsley had something up his sleeve, that he would not have called them up here for nothing, but apparently many of the people sitting in the hall did not have the same amount of trust in the new Minister.
BANG!
There was a sudden loud blast from behind Harry and he jumped, dropping Hermione’s hand as he reached automatically for his wand, drawing it as he turned. Several people had screamed but silence fell as they all saw what Harry saw: Professor McGonagall on her feet, her wand pointing straight up in the air. It was she who had made the blast with her wand, which had effectively silenced the hall.
“Perhaps you could all listen to what the Minister has to say before starting a riot,” she said coldly, her voice echoing around the now-silent room. “You three can put your wands away,” she added as an aside and Harry realized that, like him, Ron and Hermione had their wands out and pointing at McGonagall. Stifling a laugh, though his heart was still pounding furiously from his momentary fear, Harry pocketed his wand and turned back around to face the hall; Ron and Hermione did the same.
Kingsley seemed to be fighting a smile as he continued. “Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” he said as she returned to her seat, her mouth a thin line. “As I was saying,” he said to the room at large, “we will not be giving out any further Orders of Merlin tonight. That does not, however,” his voice grew louder to drown out the few angry mutters that people had dared to utter, “mean that we are going to neglect to acknowledge Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger and their astounding contributions which directly led to the end of this war.” The mutters subsided and silence fell once more; everyone was now hanging on Kingsley’s words.
“There was quite a lengthy debate on this subject among the awards committee. The Order of Merlin remains a highly prestigious award that is not meant to be given out lightly. However, many of us felt, upon discussing the events, not only of the past week, but of the past year, that certain deeds deserved an even greater recognition than the Order of Merlin, First Class. Was that enough, we wondered, for someone who willingly, in cold blood, faced death? Was it enough for those who faced the Darkest substances that magic could muster? Who not only faced them, but defeated them, and lived to tell about it? Was it enough for three people who, even as young as eleven and twelve, proved themselves willing to give their lives to stop a war? Was it enough for someone who faced the Killing Curse twice and survived?”
The silence in the Great Hall was complete. No one spoke, no one moved. There wasn’t even a cough or a sniffle to break the utter stillness.
As Kingsley was speaking, images had been flashing across Harry’s mind: his walk into the forest; Ron bringing the sword down on the Horcrux; Nagini emerging from Bathilda’s throat; Hermione throwing a curse at the snake; Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement; Ron being struck across the head by a towering white chess piece; a piece of paper clutched in Hermione’s Petrified hand; Ron, swaying on a broken leg, telling Sirius he would have to kill all three of them; Hermione swearing she would do whatever it took to save Sirius, then crumpling to the ground hours later as purple fire streaked across her chest; Ron pounding on a cellar wall while Hermione screamed above them; Voldemort’s face lit from below by a fire in the middle of the forest as he raised the Elder Wand; and his earliest memory of all, a bright flash of green light, accompanied by a high, cold, cruel laugh. Harry swallowed hard.
“After many hours of discussion,” Kingsley’s voice boomed out, shattering the stillness, “we decided that it was not enough. Though some of the committee were reluctant to disrupt that which has been established for centuries, they finally admitted that the world has changed. And these three,” he gestured towards Harry, Hermione, and Ron, “were instrumental in bringing about that change. And so we felt that the best way to acknowledge their deeds and to showcase our gratitude for what they have done was to create an entirely new award.”
The silence was now stunned, rather than expectant. Harry, too, was shocked. An entirely new award? Specifically because of them?
“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered and Harry gave a small nod of his agreement.
“Professor McGonagall, if you would present the medallions?” Kingsley said.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding three royal blue ribbons with some sort of pendant hanging from each one.
“Well done, Potter, Miss Granger, Weasley,” she said, smiling as, one by one, she hung the medals around their necks.
Harry looked down at his to see that the pendant was actually shaped like a phoenix, its wings spread as if it were flying upward. His heart leapt into his throat as he read the words engraved around the edges of the wings: “The Phoenix Award”In Memoriam of Albus Dumbledore and In Recognition of Outstanding Courage.” In the middle, right across the phoenix’s chest, in large letters, it read, “HARRY POTTER.”
“It gives me great pleasure to present to you tonight, in remembrance of Albus Dumbledore and in recognition of pure nerve and outstanding courage, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger, the first ever recipients of the Phoenix Award.” Kingsley beamed as he looked at them and he and Professor McGonagall began to clap.
The committee members on the stage took up the applause, rising to their feet behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione. It was swiftly picked up in the audience as Hagrid, Neville, Luna, the Weasleys, Flitwick, Sprout, the other teachers, the members of Dumbledore’s army, Mrs. Longbottom, the Creeveys, and hundreds of other people he didn’t even know all rose to their feet, applauding, not just clapping, but cheering and crying and calling out. The words Harry heard most often, repeated constantly above the din, were “Thank you!”
The applause went on for ages; no one seemed to want to stop. By the time it finally began to die down, Harry’s face was burning, Ron’s was nearly purple and his ears were flaming, and Hermione was bright red, with tears in her eyes.
When it was nearly quiet, Harry reluctantly caught Kingsley’s eye and the Minister gestured towards the podium. Harry winced. He had been afraid of that. He was going to be expected to make some sort of speech. He glanced at Ron and Hermione. Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile as Ron grimaced. With a sigh, Harry stepped up to the golden podium, gripping its sides hard to stop his hands from shaking.
Looking out at the audience, he caught sight of Ginny’s face. She looked radiant, her features lit with a fierce pride as she gazed up at him. Gathering courage from her eyes, Harry took a deep breath.
“I’m rubbish at speeches, so this should be short.” There was a murmur of laughter. “On behalf of Ron, Hermione, and myself, I just want to say thank you all, very much. As you can tell from everyone who has received an award tonight, we couldn’t have defeated Voldemort alone, I couldn’t have done it alone. It’s all down to everyone in this room tonight, everyone who resisted him, who refused to join him or just let him take over everywhere, even if it meant risking being tortured or imprisoned or worse.” There was a renewed bout of cheering and applause at these words and as he waited for it to die down, Harry turned quickly to the other two. “Either of you want to add anything here?”
They both shook their heads and Harry turned back to the quieting crowd. “Well, er, that was really all I had. I said it would be a short speech.” There was a ripple of laughter again. “Just, er, thank you, again, everyone, for these awards and for everything. Minister, is there anything else?” Harry asked, turning to look at Kingsley, nearly pleading for him to take over again.
“That’s all, Harry, if you’d just thank everyone for coming and wish them a good night,” Kingsley said, making no move to approach the podium.
His hands still shaking, Harry said, “According to Minister Shacklebolt, that’s it for this evening. From the Minister and myself and everyone up here tonight, we want to thank you for coming and being a part of this awards ceremony.” Harry had no idea where those words had just come from, but he thought it sounded rather good. “I hope you all have safe journeys home and a good night.”
Glancing at Kingsley to make sure he was finished and receiving a nod, Harry stepped quickly back away from the podium. The sounds of people getting to their feet and chatting and moving toward the doors into the entrance hall began to fill the room.
“Nicely handled, Harry,” Kingsley said quietly. “After you spoke, I doubted that they wanted to hear any more from me tonight.”
Harry laughed as Ron, Hermione, and McGonagall joined them.
“Kingsley, Professor, thank you,” Hermione said, wiping her eyes as she looked at her medal.
“Yeah, thanks, this is brilliant,” Ron said, examining his own engraved phoenix.
“You are quite welcome Miss Granger, Weasley, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, still smiling; Harry had never seen her with a smile on her face for this long before. “They are very well-earned. I daresay Professor Dumbledore would be thrilled.”
Harry grinned. “He’d probably think it was almost as good as being on a Chocolate Frog card.”
They all laughed. As he looked up, Harry suddenly realized that they were surrounded by the half dozen committee members, all of whom were looking eagerly from Harry to Kingsley and back again. The Minister recovered himself at once.
“Harry, Ron, Hermione, I would like you to meet the Awards Committee, a subset of members of the Wizengamot who oversee the presentation of Orders of Merlin and, now, the Phoenix Award.” He rattled off their names as each approached first Harry, then Ron and Hermione with their hand out, eager for a few moments conversation with the young heroes.
Harry tried to be polite and interested, but in the end, the only name he managed to remember was that of Griselda Marchbanks, who gripped his hand with surprising strength. “Yes, Mr. Potter, that award is quite well-deserved,” she said, looking up at him, her wrinkly face crinkled in a smile. “But I’m not surprised, of course, I seem to remember that you did quite well in your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., yes, Professor Tofty made a particular point of mentioning it.”
By the time the committee members had made their rounds and Harry, Ron, and Hermione finished saying their good-byes to Kingsley and Professor McGonagall, the hall was nearly empty. Clustered at the foot of the stage stairs, however, were the Weasleys and Hagrid.
Mrs. Weasley looked very ready to throw her arms around them, but Hagrid got there first. As they reached the ground, he swept all three of them into a bone-breaking hug.
“All down ter you three,” he said, beaming down at them as he finally let go. They staggered slightly, all three of them gingerly rubbing their ribs. “Knew yeh’d be the one ter beat ‘im, Harry, with Ron and Hermione helpin’ yeh, o’ course. And the Phoenix Award, in honor o’ Dumbledore. Tha’s just”tha’s just great.” Hagrid didn’t seem able to continue. Tears were leaking out of his beetle black eyes and he blew his nose with a great honking noise into a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth. Hermione patted him gingerly on the arm and Mrs. Weasley took the opportunity to pull both Harry and Ron into a tight hug, nearly knocking their heads together.
“We are so proud of you,” she whispered, and there were tears on her cheeks. “Your father and I couldn’t be happier, Ronald,” she kissed him on the cheek, then turned her head to kiss Harry’s cheek, too, “and Harry, dear, it’s really just wonderful, such an honor for all of you.” She released them to hug and kiss Hermione as well and Ginny promptly flung herself into Harry’s arms.
Harry hugged her tightly, not daring to do more in front of her entire family, especially because he could see over her shoulder that Charlie, Percy, and Ron were all glaring at him. Ron he could deal with, and possibly Percy too, but Charlie was rather intimidating. Ginny, who seemed oblivious to her brothers’ expressions, kissed him on the cheek before releasing him. Harry felt himself blushing again, but chose to stare defiantly back at Ron, who snorted and turned away, only to be grabbed by Fleur, who kissed him on both cheeks before congratulating him.
Harry caught Ginny’s eye and grinned while Hermione glared over Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder. He looked quickly away from Ginny’s expression, though, as Fleur caught and kissed him, too, saying, “Eet ees a very great honor, ‘arry.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Harry muttered, turning redder. He spotted George’s expression as Fleur released him to hug and congratulate Hermione. George looked almost gleeful for a moment at Harry and Ron’s embarrasment. Then, it was as if he turned to say something to someone, but saw only empty air beside him. The glee slid off his face to be quickly replaced by another emotion so raw that Harry couldn’t look at him anymore.
He was grateful when Hagrid provided a distraction by saying, “Well, it’s been good ter see yeh all, but I’d best be gettin’ home, Beaky’ll be gettin’ worried and it’s time fer Fang’s dinner. Sure I’ll be seein’ yeh soon!” And waving a massive hand, Hagrid strode off towards the entrance hall.
There was now no one left in the hall besides themselves; even McGonagall and Kingsley had disappeared.
“Well, Arthur, I think it’s high time we were getting home, don’t you think?” Mrs. Weasley said.
“Absolutely, dear,” Mr. Weasley replied.
Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry and Hermione. “You’re coming home with us, of course?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was nearly a command, but Harry appreciated the certainty that was in her voice that they regarded the Burrow as “home.”
“Sounds good to me,” Harry said. Looking sideways at Hermione with a grin, he added, “Unless, Hermione, you were wanting to sleep in the tent again?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’m never going camping again. Going to the Burrow is the best idea I’ve heard since last August.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled happily. “It’s settled, then,” she said briskly, “everyone’s staying at home tonight. Everyone,” she added dangerously as Percy and George both opened their mouths to argue. Wisely, they closed them again.
Bill glanced at Fleur, who shrugged. “We can sleep in my room, if Charlie doesn’t mind sharing with Perce.”
Charlie didn’t seem to mind, but Percy looked a bit uncertain; Harry, remembering Charlie’s snores in the tent after the Quidditch World Cup, thought he knew why.
Harry felt the loss of Fred sharply as they all left the Great Hall, chatting comfortably, broken up mostly into pairs. Bill and Fleur were holding hands, their heads close together, while Charlie and Percy seemed to be having some sort of argument about the sleeping arrangements. George was walking beside his father, who was talking to him in a low voice so no one else could hear. Hermione was describing to Mrs. Weasley some of the disastrous meals she had prepared in the tent, and Harry was between Ron and Ginny, the former of whom was chuckling as he listened to Hermione and his mother’s conversation, while the latter had entwined her fingers with Harry’s. He smiled down at her as they approached the gates, guarded by the winged boars, and she beamed back.
“I think this is far enough,” Mr. Weasley said when they were a few yards beyond the school grounds. “Everyone set to Apparate back to the Burrow? Ginny, it’ll have to be Side-Along for you, you’re not of age yet, so find a partner.”
“I think I’ve got one,” Ginny said, gripping Harry’s hand more tightly. His stomach fluttered as she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as, one by one, they all turned on the spot and vanished.
Harry and Ginny were the last left standing in the now empty road.
“Finally,” Ginny said, and before Harry realized what was happening, she was kissing him, harder and fiercer than she’d ever kissed him before. Harry kissed her back enthusiastically, losing track of time, not paying attention to anything besides Ginny and the feel of her lips on his, and the strands of her hair in his hand, and how gentle her hands were as they wrapped around his back.
“OI!”
The sound startled Harry, but he recognized the voice well enough to risk finishing the kiss before backing away. Slightly breathless, he grinned at Ginny, who grinned back.
“Had to congratulate you, you know,” she said.
“Thanks,” Harry replied, before finally turning to Ron, who was glaring at them both with his wand out.
“Finished?” he asked nastily. “Dad sent me back when you two didn’t appear right away with the rest of the family, wanted to make sure you were planning on coming straight home,” he emphasized the last two words.
“Oh get over yourself, we’re coming,” Ginny said. Ron opened his mouth to reply angrily, but before he could, Ginny threw her arms around his neck.
“For the record, I’m proud of you, too,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.
Ron looked slightly mollified as she released him, but was still suspicious enough to say, “You two first, then.”
Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry before reaching for his hand.
“Do you trust me?” he asked her, eyebrows raised.
She smiled. “Always.”
Ron groaned but Harry’s heart leapt and he had to remember to focus on the familiar building as he turned on the spot, pulling Ginny with him into the compressing darkness.
As the bands released around his lungs, Harry took in a deep breath of evening air, lightly scented by the buds of the apple trees in the orchard. Rising in front of him, lights already blazing, was the Burrow.
A “pop” beside him announced Ron’s arrival. Still holding Ginny’s hand tightly, Harry pointed his wand at his friend and asked, “What happened in the Room of Requirement, right before we left so it could become the Room of Hidden Things?”
Ron looked confused for a moment, then a smug expression stole across his face. “Hermione kissed me,” he said. He kept his own wand pointing at Harry as he asked, “And what did you say then?”
“I believe it was something along the lines of ‘Oi, there’s a war going on,” Harry said, grinning as he pocketed his wand.
Ron laughed as they started to walk towards the house. “I stand by what I said before. It was now or never, mate.”
Laughing, Harry and Ginny still holding hands, the three of them walked up the garden path to the kitchen door. Looking around at the overgrown garden, the Wellington boots and rusty cauldron beside the door, and hearing the chatter coming from within the house, Harry felt a great sense of peace and contentment steal through him.
He was home at last.
Over the Next Year by Arial Felchem
Chapter Notes: *******This chapter is dedicated to my brother's friend Brett, a soldier who lost both his legs in an explosion in Afghanistan a week ago. Several other soldiers were injured as well. Here's to real-life heroes, in our thoughts and in our prayers.*******************